Chasing Ghosts – Collecting Crownlands In Austria-Hungary (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #75c)

The Austro-Hungarian Empire’s most defining trait was complexity. Ethnicity, language, religion, and social class were all extremely diverse. As was the empire’s geography. Trying to make sense of an empire that stretched from the alpine areas of the Tyrol (present-day northern Italy) to its agrarian frontier in Eastern Galicia (present-day eastern Ukraine) is difficult. I can say from personal experience that trying to understand the empire over a century after its collapse takes a lot of work. Add in distance, not only in time, but also space since I live an ocean apart from the region. This all adds up to a myopic view of the empire. One that I am still struggling to overcome.

I will never have any lived experience with Austria-Hungary. The empire disintegrated fifty-one years before I was born. I did not even become aware of its existence until I was sixteen years old. Over time, my affinity for the empire has grown to obsessive proportions. Books and documentaries have expanded my knowledge, but they can only take me so far. There really is no substitute for experience. That is why I have taken so many trips to visit those places which inherited the empire’s political, economic, military, and cultural legacy. 

Imperial Portal – Catherine’s Gate in Brasov, Romania

Glittering Residue – All The High Points
Visiting the old empire did not solve the problem of coming to terms with it. Instead, it presented me with what at first seemed to be an intractable problem. Understanding Austria-Hungary and its legacy meant I would have to go well beyond the beaten paths. I had no idea this would be the case during my initial visits. The first place I went chasing ghosts was Sarajevo. This was the beginning of the empire’s end when Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated. I visited Budapest, Krakow, Lviv, Vienna, and Prague on my first three trips to places that had been part of Austria-Hungary. Only later did I discover that these were also the empire’s five largest cities. I was hitting all the high points. Though I had been late to the party, the glittering residue of the empire seduced me in each of those cities. They say do not judge a book by its cover, but with Austria-Hungary all I had to judge it by was the cover and a handful of chapters. These were charming and lacking. As an obsessive, I wanted more.

How to feed my addiction was problematical. I could keep going back to the Budapests and Viennas, visiting every museum, studying the architecture, and pondering hundreds of monuments related to someone or something that was affiliated with the empire. This would inevitably lead to the law of diminishing returns and a been there, done that mentality. The only way to gain greater travel experience with the empire was to retrofit some sort of plan onto my travels. I did not set out with the idea that I wanted or needed to see more than the empire’s most famous cities might offer. I arrived in those cities interested in Austria-Hungary and left them with an addiction that left me wanting more.

The only way to really deal with an addiction is in a rational manner. Addiction by its very nature is irrational, thus it follows that rationality is an effective antidote. My addiction to travel in the old empire had taken me into the realm of chaos. I needed to bring order to the chaos of trying to cover a sprawling entity that was the biggest empire entirely inside Europe during its existence. There was so much to see and there would never be enough time. A potential solution to this problem presented itself in the form of a map showing each of the empire’s eighteen provinces. Officially, they went by the much more evocative name of crownlands. These were the various kingdoms and duchy’s that the Habsburgs had acquired during centuries of domination in large swaths of Central and Eastern Europe. Visiting all eighteen crownlands was conceivable. Unlike another goal of mine, to visit the 73 counties in the Kingdom of Hungary. That goal has been put on hold due to the number and time involved traveling to every one of them.

Crownlands of Austria-Hungary – Cisleithania (Empire of Austria): 1. Bohemia, 2. Bukovina, 3. Carinthia, 4. Carniola, 5. Dalmatia, 6. Galicia, 7. Austrian Littoral, 8. Lower Austria, 9. Moravia, 10. Salzburg, 11. Silesia, 12. Styria, 13. Tyrol, 14. Upper Austria, 15. Vorarlberg; Transleithania (Kingdom of Hungary): 16. Hungary proper 17. Croatia-Slavonia; Austrian-Hungarian Condominium: 18. Bosnia and Herzegovina

Missing Links – A Long, Strange Trip
The only thing I love more than making lists is checking them off. After thirteen years traveling around what was once Austria-Hungary, I have managed to visit thirteen of the eighteen crownlands. These include the Austrian Littoral, Bohemia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Carinthia, Carniola, Croatia-Slavonia, Dalmatia, Galicia, Hungary proper, Lower Austria, Moravia, Salzburg, and Upper Austria. I still lack Bukovina, Salzburg, Silesia, Tyrol, Vorarlberg; To those who are not obsessive crownland collectors this might seem a fool’s game. What exactly is the point of visiting every crownland? After all, I have seen enough of Austria-Hungary to have a decent understanding of its complexity and diversity. The truth about my passion is simple, I cannot get enough of a good thing. There is a hint of megalomania in the pursuit. If I can never have the empire, at least I can experience it in every way geographically possible.

Apart from Bukovina, three of the five crownlands I lack are in Austria. Getting to the Austrian ones should be relatively easy because they border one another. The problem is that I have less interest in those than the other two I have yet to visit. Bukovina and Silesia are outliers and will require dedicated trips. That makes them even more appealing to me. A fine example of Austria-Hungary’s diversity can be discerned by the counties I lack. There is virtually no link between the Bukovina and the crownlands in Austria, other than they all have mountains. The same can be said for Silesia. Looking at the map, it is hard to believe Bukovina was part of Cisleithania and administered by the same Austrian officials that oversaw Salzburg, Tyrol, and Voralberg. They might as well have been in another country, as they are now.

New discoveries – Gura Humorului in Bukovina (Credit: Mihai Burlacu)

Complexities & Contradictions – The Outer Fringes
Collecting crownlands has become an obsession that is helping me see the old empire from one end to the other. This pursuit is about both the journey and the destination. You cannot have one without the other. Just as you cannot have Austria-Hungary without all its complexities and contradictions. I can think of nothing better than following my curiosity to the outer fringes of a vanished empire. Whether I make it or not to all eighteen crownlands does not matter as much as trying. Along the way I have learned a few things, not only about Austria-Hungary, but also myself.

Click here for: Riding The Iron Horse – Railroaded In Austria-Hungary (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #76)

A Long-Lasting Affair – Passionate Excesses In Austria-Hungary (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #75b)

The plan was that there was no plan. All I had to do was put my best foot backward. Only in retrospect can I see the road I took to Austria-Hungary clearly. My mind was made up to visit it so long ago that those first feelings now seem more like a dream than reality. All it took was one article and a few photos in the Marshall Cavendish Encyclopedia of World War I when I was sixteen. From that moment forward, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was the one for me. Assassinations are supposed to be deadly, but the one I came across would turn out to be life affirming. That is quite the statement considering the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo led to the destruction of Austria-Hungary. I was young and impressionable back then. The Archduke’s assassination made me want to visit those lands that had once been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I loved the exotic names, colorful uniforms, and eccentric mustaches. In black and white photos, I could see the splendor and smell the cigarette smoke. I was starting at the end with Austria-Hungary and that was the beginning of a love affair that continues to this day.

Window into another world – In Sopron Hungary

Drawing Distinctions – Brno & Bratislava
I have been running out of time since the day I was born. Now that I have arrived at middle-age, the clock ticks faster than ever before. This has added a sense of urgency to my travels in what was once the Austro-Hungarian Empire. No one can say for sure how many trips they have left in them, but as the years have passed, I find myself grateful for each opportunity to explore some of the same places again and discover new parts of the empire for the first time. I have dedicated a portion of my adult life to pursuing this passion at all costs. The time I have spent on these travels has always been worth it. Traveling in the pursuit of Austria-Hungary is a fascinating paradox. I am pursuing the past, but the first time I visit a place, it is completely new to me. I am looking at the lasting remains of a vanished empire with virgin eyes. Everything old is new. This paradox explains how I can travel around the former empire so many times without losing interest.

Do I ever get tired of going back to the same kind of places again and again? Not when each place has a distinct identity. For example, there are more differences than similarities in Brno and Bratislava. These two cities are now in separate countries, but they used to be part of the same empire. They were separated by only 130 kilometers. I can drive between the two in less time than it takes to watch the average movie. And yet there is a world of difference in their Austro-Hungarian past. Brno was then, as it still is today, Moravia’s largest city. It was part of the Margraviate of Moravia in Austrian administered Cisleithania. Brno was inhabited by Czechs and Germans.

Bratislava, then known by its Hungarian name Pozsony, was in the Kingdom of Hungary. The city was part of Transleithania, that half of the empire administered by Hungarians. The population was mixed with Hungarians, Germans, and a smattering of Slovaks. Both Brno and Bratislava have exquisite Old Towns, but Brno’s feels much bigger. Bratislava’s is spectacularly quaint. Despite their differences, both cities used the Austro-Hungarian past as a draw for tourists. Visiting each of these cities on separate trips, I never connected the two in my mind with anything other than that they were once part of Austria-Hungary. Brno and Bratislava were then, as they are today, distinct in their own ways.

Rooftops and spires – Old Town in Brno

Speech Therapy – The Ties That Bind
Diversity of peoples, languages, and landscapes are a hallmark of Austria-Hungary. One of the thrills of traveling around the old imperial lands is that there is still an incredible amount of diversity despite the violent excesses of the World Wars. It is hard to imagine how a single political entity could bind such a complex area together, especially amid unprecedented technological change caused by an industrial revolution. This would have major consequences for the life and death of the empire. The complexity of peoples and places is the preeminent focal point for a traveler to the old empire. Trying to visit every province in the empire is not an easy undertaking.

The alpine landscapes of Austria have nothing in common with the Great Hungarian Plain’s vast emptiness. Slovenia and Slovakia may have mountains, but little else in common. The former was under the thumb of the Austrians, the latter under that of the Hungarians. Galicia and Dalmatia could not be any more different even though both were considered part of the Austrian administered half of the empire.  I never could see what these places had in common other than lots of unhappy history in Austria-Hungary.

The diversity of landscapes is matched by the languages. From a traveler’s perspective, the sheer number spoken by the natives as their preferred language is difficult to fathom. This is still noticeable. German was the empire’s lingua franca, but that should not be overstated. Every ethnic group preferred to speak in their own tongue. To be fluent in the languages of Austria-Hungary, someone would have to learn Czech, German, Hungarian, Italian, Romani, Romanian, Rusyn, Serbo-Croat, Slovak, Ukrainian, and Yiddish. That does not include all the dialects still spoken a century ago. Fortunately, money does more talking for a traveler than stumbling through a phrase book. Written numbers are mutually intelligible. 

Figures of Speech – Languages spoken in Austria-Hungary

Hearing Voices – Figures of Speech
For a native English speaker, the current situation is made easier because English is widely taught in Central and Eastern European countries today. Nevertheless, there are rural areas where English is hardly spoken. This presents a barrier for the traveler that is hard to overcome.  After all, learning one language is difficult, ten all but impossible. Linguistic and ethnic divisions make travel challenging. They also make it fascinating. The old cliché, “you are what you eat” should be changed to “you are what you speak.” Languages have never gotten me that far in the lands that were part of Austria-Hungary, but the greatest innovation of that era, railroads, has.

Click here for: Chasing Ghosts – Collecting Crownlands In Austria-Hungary (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #75c)

Improbable Itinerary – A Provincial Past (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #75a)

The moment arrived thirteen years ago when it was time for a visit to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. This fabulously absurd idea obsessed me for years. By the standards of 21^st century Europe, the idea was improbable and not impossible. Austria-Hungary is a thing of the past, but so is almost everything else people travel to see in Europe. Austria-Hungary disintegrated in the autumn of 1918. That makes it no different from the Venetian Republic, Belle Epoque France, and the Dutch Golden Age, just to name a few of Europe’s finest that did a disappearing act. Each one of these has also performed a magic act. Continuing to exert a powerful effect on authors and tourists. Travelers see Europe from a rearview mirror, looking back at a past that is sold as glorious.

Austria-Hungary had its fair share of glory. It also had decadence and decline, insane pockets of wealth and large swaths of abject poverty, More so than other parts of Europe, much of what was once the Austro-Hungarian Empire still mirrors the way it was from 1867 – 1914. Ethnic strife still seethes in some areas, nationalism did not make a comeback in the area because it never went away, disparities in economic development are vast. Vienna glitters, Sarajevo slumbers. Budapest and Prague are as delightful as Bosnia and the Bukovina are hard scrabble. This makes traveling through the successor states which replaced the empire fascinating. Seeing as much of Austria-Hungary a century after it vanished has become a life goal. 

Pursuit of the past – Baedeker guidebook for Austria-Hungary

Intuition & Instinct – Sources of Enchantment
History is a remote place. Pursuing the past can mean going it alone on forgotten frontiers. I gained firsthand experience in such an endeavor starting twenty years ago. Back then, my goal was to visit every county in at least one American state. I did just that not once, but thrice. Spending an inordinate amount of time and energy driving around some of the most obscure places in America. The process was exhausting and ultimately satisfying as I visited every county in Montana, North Dakota, and Wyoming. Why did I decide to visit such obscure places? The only answer I can come up with is twofold, intuition and instinct. I never asked why, I just followed a feeling. This satisfied my appetite for remote regions in America. Over time, I developed a new goal, much more distant. This one had been lurking within me for several decades. I wanted to visit Austria-Hungary. I did vicariously through history books and documentaries. This was not enough. I needed to set foot on the soil. Once I did, this started an addiction that needed to be constantly fed.

As my visits became more frequent, I looked at a map and realized that I had a unique opportunity. There was a possibility that I might be able to visit every province in the old Austro-Hungarian Empire. After over a decade of trips to regions of the former empire stretching across larger parts of East-Central and Eastern Europe, I should have been able to attain my goal. That has not been the case, for a multitude of reasons. The main one is because curiosity has gotten the better of me. I have distracted myself by wanting more in-depth experiences by visiting certain regions multiple times. This took me to every county in Hungary and most of the counties in Croatia and Slovakia. These willful distractions have delayed my potential visits to all the provinces. I do not know if I will get to each one, but I intend to try. And that is the point. To travel as far and wide in those lands whose history has been a source of eternal enchantment for me.

The way forward – Andrassy Avenue in Budapest during Austro-Hungarian era
(Credit: Derzsi Elekes Andor)

Reassembling The Remnants – East & West of The Leitha
I have now lived longer than the Austro-Hungarian Empire lasted. In 1867 the empire formed as an evolution of the Habsburg Empire, which had ruled large parts of Central and Eastern Europe since the Middle Ages. The Austrian Habsburgs came to a compromise out of necessity with the Hungarians whose independence movement they had defeated less than two decades earlier. The Habsburg Empire was threatened with absorption by Prussia which was only a few years away from unifying Germany into an empire. The 1867 Compromise created Austrian and Hungarian administered halves of the empire divided by the Leitha, which runs close to the current Austria-Hungary border. West of the Leitha, Austrians administered Cisleithania. East of the Leitha, Hungarians administered Transleithania.

The empire was a sprawling geographical entity known for its ethnic and linguistic diversity. The only dual functions of the empire were defense and foreign affairs. The empire was unwieldy, barely keeping a lid on ethnic tensions until defeat in the First World War led to its implosion. Then, the former crown lands were absorbed into existing or newly created nations. The empire’s old borders ceased to exist. Some of the provincial borders loosely followed national ones. These would be altered by revolutions, treaties, and wars. Anyone who cares to revisit the disparate parts of Austria-Hungary will find themselves crossing multiple national borders, navigating an array of languages, and visiting places of great splendor and squalor. This largely mirrors the socio-economic conditions of the empire. Reconnecting the remnants of Austria-Hungary on multiple journeys appealed to me.

Mix and match – Ethno-linguistic map of Austria-Hungary in 1910 (Credit: ArdadN)

Going Off – Passionate Excess
Most Americans who travel to places that were part of Austria-Hungary visit Budapest, Prague, and Vienna, not exactly in that order. Rural areas, other than those that can be seen on Danube River cruises, are almost always an afterthought. Many of the American tourists are pensioners who prefer visiting Paris, Tuscany, Amsterdam and taking a cruise along the Rhine River. They only head east when they have exhausted other options or Rick Steves, the American media establishment’s anointed travel guru, tells them to partake of Sachertorte in Vienna, the Szechenyi Baths in Budapest, and stroll across the Charles Bridge in Prague. That comes at a cost, both in terms of experience and monetary cost. Sometimes it pays not to have a large amount of money to travel throughout Europe. Austria-Hungary offers the less is more option. The further out one travels from the most popular places, the more affordable and unique the adventure. That is what I set out to do in 2011. Thirteen years later, my obsession with Austria-Hungary shows no signs of abating.

Click here for: A Long-Lasting Affair – Passionate Excesses In Austria-Hungary (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #75b)

My Secret Life – An Austro-Hungarian Absurdist Fantasy (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #57)

Have you ever heard someone say, “I wish I could have lived back then.” I have heard it on countless occasions. I have heard it from people who had little to no interest in history. They are referring to a time and place in history other than the current one into which they were born. This romantic naivete causes those infatuated with a specific historical period to gloss over its deficiencies. People tend to be more critical of the period in which they live compared to a historical one they have only experienced through books, films, museums, and historic sites.

The past was just as messy as the present and daily life was much more difficult. No one would know it by sitting in the comfort of their own home watching a historical documentary or television show based upon a certain part of the past that has been idealized. Life is not an ideal, it is a reality. Much of what makes the past so seductive is that it seems to be the opposite of reality. History is an escapist fantasy with a twist. It concerns people, places, and processes that were once real. They are now history, that is all they will ever be. And with each day that passes, we join them.

Imperfect image – Train station in Temesvar (Timisoara) Austria-Hungary in 1901
(Credit: fortepan.hu)

Collective Guilt – An Idealized Past
Consider me guilty as charged. I am one of those who suffer delusions of an idealized past. In my more imaginative moments, I dream of living in the Austro-Hungarian Empire from 1867 until 1914. It would have been especially fascinating to live in Budapest during a time when the city experienced explosive growth. There was a dynamism and optimism in the Hungarian capital unlike anything that had ever happened there before. Nothing since then has come close to surpassing it. Dreaming about what my life might have been like in Budapest fills me with wonder, but the reality of that life would have been different than how I imagine it. My mind glosses over the inequalities of the era and rampant social problems that would later manifest themselves in extremist ideologies. My self-fulfilling fantasy conveniently ignores these.

I always see myself as part of the intellectual class with enough time and money to spend half a century chattering away in coffee houses, reading an entire library filled with intellectually sumptuous books, and pontificating on the state of the Dual Monarchy. The only work for me involves personal literary pursuits. It is a life without worry. Forget factories and crime, they only exist in the newspapers that I spend endless hours reading. The onerous secret service of the empire that spies on its subjects does not exist for me. In my mind, I am sitting all day in a café giving my opinions and only high-minded people like me are listening. If all this sounds utterly ridiculous, well it is. I will not apologize for the who, what and where I want to be in history, even if it borders at times on lunacy. Come to think of it, wanting to live in a specific era of an idealized past is lunacy. The authorities have not yet declared it against the law, that is probably because if they did, everyone would be found guilty.

Intellectual pursuits – At a school in early 20th century Budapest (Credit: fortepan.hu)

Impossible Pasts – No Going Back
The closest I will ever get to my personal fantasy world is a very rough approximation of the past found in books, films, climate-controlled museums, and historic sites that are all failed attempts to turn back time. My shelves are lined with books that have informed my view of Austria-Hungary. And after reading thousands of pages, I still really do not know what it was like. At best, I know a bare minimum. Enough to give shape, form, and color to my fevered imaginings. My secret life succumbs to the ironclad law that the past can never be recaptured. Time does not stop, let alone yield, for anything or anyone. The past can be reenacted, but it can never be restored. I have reached the limit and realize there is no going back. No means never. Not an hour ago, not a week ago, not a century ago. The past that I dream of and that I want to be a part of, happened only once and never will again.

I ask the reader to indulge themselves in their own similar fantasy and see whether it makes any sense. Of course, it does not. That is part of the allure. My secret life as a citizen of Austria-Hungary is so absurd that I am the only one who could ever take it seriously. Every person should suffer such delusions. The biggest problem with this type of historical fantasizing is a rather simple one. It always was and always will be impossible. That is not cynicism, that is not negativity, that is a fact. The past is elusive. No scientific invention or psychological impulse can recreate history. At least not in the way we imagine it. The chief irony is that even though we cannot go back in time and relive history, we are surrounded by it. Look around you. Everything, and I do mean everything, is a product of the past. The clothes we wear, the books we read, the technology we use, the food we eat, are all part of the past. There is no way of escaping it. You may not be interested in history, but history is interested in you.

On the outside – Austro-Hungarian era house in Krakow

Nothing Doing – On The Outside
No wonder we want to live in an idealized past. History seduces us, stalks us, taunts us. It jumps off the shelf and leaps from the screen. Austria-Hungary has been doing this to me for decades. And yet no matter how hard I try; I will never get there. If Austria-Hungary is a house, I am locked outside of it. I can see in the windows as tantalizing scenes unfold before my eyes. There is Crown Prince Rudolf committing suicide. There is Emperor Franz Josef working himself to death. There is Archduke Franz Ferdinand raging against his own insecurities. I can hear their voices, feel their footsteps, and sense their degeneracy. I keep knocking on the door, banging on the windows and they cannot hear me. I wave my arms and they cannot see me. I reach out to touch them and they cannot feel me. I try to talk with them, and they cannot understand me. I want to be with them, and they will have nothing to do with me.

Click here for: Border Patrol – Opening the Hungary-Slovakia Border (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #58a)

An Empty Room – Armistice of Villa Giusti: The End of Austria-Hungary

It is hard to say exactly where the Austro-Hungarian Empire began. Some would say when the Turks surged through the Balkans and arrived in Eastern Europe, so weakening the Kingdom of Hungary that it would undergo a slow, but steady assimilation under the Habsburgs. Others would say after the defeat of Rakoczi’s War of Independence in 1711. Hungary then had no other choice, but submission to Habsburg rule. These two examples are lacking in one regard. Though these historical events may have pushed Hungary ever closer to the Austrians, neither speaks to the equality between the two that was a hallmark of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Because the Dual Monarchy was officially formed in 1867, we might need to search for an event closer to that date.

An Empty Room – Site where the Armistice of Villa Giusti was signed (Credit: Armistizo)

Starting Points – The End of A Beginning
To my mind, it is the Austro-Hungarian defeat at the Battle of Koniggratz (Hradec Kralove in the Czech Republic) in 1866 by the Prussian Army that signals the unofficial beginning of the Dual Monarchy. Fear is a great motivator, and it was fear that of absorption in a new German Empire that motivated the Austrians to look for an internal partner to help save the Monarchy. Despite, or perhaps because the Hungarians had rebelled against Austrian rule in 1848-49, Franz Josef and the Austrian leadership decided that union with Hungary made the most sense. The Hungarians had other advantages as well. They were the second largest ethnic group in the Habsburg Empire.

Hungarians were an unruly bunch that were as difficult to control as they were to please. There was also the personal chemistry and connection between Queen Elisabeth (otherwise known as Sisi) and Count Gyula Andrassy that led Elisabeth to lean on her husband, Franz Josef to consider the creation of a Dual Monarchy. Like most empires, there is not a single point that acts as a definitive starting point for the beginning of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. On the other hand, there was a defining event that solidified the Monarchy’s creation. The crowning of Franz Josef and Elisabeth as King of Hungary and Queen of Hungary at the Matthias Church atop Castle Hill in Buda on June 8, 1867. This symbolically united Austria and Hungary under the person of Franz Josef. It would stay that way until his death over a half century later.

Where History Was Made – Villa Giusti as it looks today (Credit: Red Foxes)

An Empire’s Demise – Nails In The Coffin
If finding a starting point for Austria-Hungary is difficult, finding an end point is just as troublesome. Revolutions sprouted up like mushrooms across imperial lands from Transylvania to the Tyrol in the autumn of 1918. The revolutions were followed by splintering states as a plethora of obscure pseudo-political entities – such as the Republic of Prekmurje and Republic of Banat to name but two – arose and fell with hardly anyone taking notice. There were other events great and small which portended total collapse. King Karl relinquishing his throne, mutinies on the Eastern Front, the once glittering imperial capital of Vienna swelling with starving citizens. Many of the places and all the people involved in the Empire’s dissolution have long since vanished. Finding a tangible site associated with the empire’s demise is not easy.

One of the more interesting sites associated with the dissolution of Austria-Hungary can be found in a place where you might least expect to find it. In the Veneto Region of northeastern Italy, outside the city of Padua, stands the Villa Giusti, home to an empty room where the empire crumbled. For an empire that is usually associated in the popular imagination with aristocracy, grand palaces, glittering balls and gilded romances, the Villa Giusti is a fitting place to contemplate Austria-Hungary. One might be forgiven, to think the Villa Giusti would be more representative of the empire at its apogee rather than its conclusion. In those strange and historic days that made up the final phase of World War I, the Villa Giusti was one of the final acts in the imperial endgame.

The Dual Monarchy Disintegrates – End of War, End of Empire
Long before the First World War brought the Villa Giusti fame and notoriety, its history began not as a noble manor, but the result of martial efforts in the region. Historians believe the Villa first took shape as a medieval fortification before it was eventually converted to a residence. In the latter part of the 19^th century the villa underwent a restoration that made it a bit more appealing, but it was never an aesthetic delight. The villa was owned by Count Vettor Giusti del Giardino, one of those European aristocrats who seems just as antiquated as the empire which crumbled to bits beneath the roof of his villa. Giardino was mayor of nearby Padua and appointed a senator in Italy during the war. His villa was used as a temporary residence for three months during the war by Italian King Victor Emmanuel who sought to avoid the aerial bombardment being inflicted upon Padua.

The Villa was selected for armistice negotiations at the beginning of November 1918 due to its proximity near the front and the fact that Austria-Hungary’s intelligence services knew little about it. The negotiations took three days and were contentious at times, causing the Italian commander Badoglio to threaten to break off talks on the final day. This broke the impasse and resulted in what became known to history as the Armistice of Villa Giusti. Effective within 24 hours, Austro-Hungarian forces were to cease all hostilities. They were also to withdraw from Italian territory and any territory that was disputed with Italy. And this was just the start. Triple Entente forces (France, Great Britain and Italy) would be allowed rights of transit through Austro-Hungarian territory which meant Germany would be facing a new front.

An Unexpected Setting – The Villa Giusti as it looked in 1967 (Credit: Paolo Monti)

The Breaking Point – A Singular Event
Speaking of Germany, their forces were to be expelled from Austria-Hungary within 15 days. The Germans had propped the empire up throughout the war out of self-interest. The idea was for Austria-Hungary to fight on to keep Germany’s soft southern underbelly was safe from enemy incursions. Now Germany could face war on multiple fronts, while its forces in France were stretched to the breaking point. The armistice’s effect was devastating to both the empire and its allies. Austria-Hungary was left with virtually no means of defending itself against its enemies, internal or external. This meant that the Entente Forces had a free hand in the old imperial lands and revolutionaries could run amuck. Either could impose their will and implement whatever policies they felt were necessary. The war was over for Austria-Hungary, the empire was not far behind.

As for the Villa Giusti, it outlived the historic events that occurred within its walls. Today the room where the armistice was negotiated has been left in the same condition as it was at the time. Anyone can visit and contemplate a singular event that helped topple the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It is both strange and humbling to see where an empire that once encompassed the shores of the Adriatic Sea, massive mountains ranges such as the Carpathians and Tatras and across the rich agricultural lands of Hungary and western Ukraine, collapsed in an old, forgotten and decrepit villa. Those words, “old” “forgotten” and “decrepit” also describe Austria-Hungary at its end. At the Villa Giusti, the empire was finally put out of its misery.

An Austro-Hungarian State Of Mind – Bridge on the Leitha: Together One Last Time

Austria-Hungary or the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I never thought much about the way in which that name was ordered. It always seemed quite natural that Austria would be in front of Hungary. Austria is wealthy and more well known, Hungary still shadowed, if no longer shrouded in my mind, by its decades hidden away behind an Iron Curtain. Their capital cities belie these differences, Vienna is much larger and its sparkle much greater than that of Budapest. The two cities’ relationship is the same today as it was back in the days of empire. The way it was happens to be the way it is today. Then there is the not insignificant matter of semantics. To say Hungary-Austria just does not sound right.

There is also the matter of chronology.  Austria allowed Hungary into the empire, not the other way around. Austria came first and Hungary followed. Even the Hungarians recognized this as such. In a language that runs counter to every other European one, the Hungarians still managed to call the empire Osztrak-Magyar Monarchia. That needs little translation because it is the same thing being said in the same way. They who controlled the empire, controlled the way it was expressed and internally divided. This was a literal and spoken truth when it came to Austria-Hungary. The Austrians knew it, the Hungarians acknowledged it.

An Empire in Full – Map with names of Austro-Hungarian Lands (Credit: Wikipedia – Public Domain)

Austrian Rules – The Terms Of Discussion & Division
Just as the wording of the empire’s name was by Austrian design, so it would be much the same when the Leitha River was used as a naming convention. The river served as a useful topographic symbol when dividing the empire’s Austrian and Hungarian halves. This is not surprising since Austria always managed to control the terms of discussion and internal division in its relationship with Hungary. In an Orwellian bit of irony, both sides were equal, but one was more equal than the other. The Leitha would be a convenient place to divide the empire, at least in a colloquial sense. This meant taking liberties with the geographical and political situation between the two. Like everything else in the empire, using the Leitha was a hedge. That was because the Austrians nominally controlled Galicia and Bukovina, two provinces which were located northeast of Hungary. The Leitha was as distant from those two provinces as Transylvania was from the Tyrol.

There was also the issue of the Leitha’s length or lack thereof. The river runs for a total of 120 kilometers, nowhere near as long as the internal border where Austrian and Hungarian controlled parts of the empire abutted one another. Perhaps this was a case where the Leitha was the best that anyone could come up with as a dividing line. It just happened to be in the area where German speakers gave way to a majority of Hungarian ones and vice versa. Everything depended on which side of the Leitha they were on. After the compromise of 1867 formed the Dual Monarchy, colloquial expressions arose out of Vienna that were expressive of the way Austrians viewed the empire.

Cisleithania – Austrian ruled lands in red and dark gray/Hungarian ruled lands in light gray (Credit: Wikipedia – Public Domain)

Superiority Complex – A Detrimental Delusion
The Austrian lands were Cisleithania, meaning “on this side of the Leitha.” Conversely, Hungarian lands were Transleithania. Tellingly, the prefix in that term denoted “beyond”. This meant Hungary was the other or the outsider. In other words, it was foreign, obscure and meant to seem lesser. The implication of using Cisleithania was that the Austrian side of the border stood for civilization, refinement and culture. While the Hungarian side, Transleithania was the wild east, a land beyond normal in the minds of the Austrian powers that be. Then again, what did it say that Austrian weakness forced them to bring in the Hungarians as equal partners. The Austrian’s superiority complex was delusional. They needed the Hungarians in order to maintain their status. The Hungarians would have gladly taken complete independence. Being one-half of the Dual Monarchy was the next best thing. More than the Leitha divided Austrians and Hungarians, but setting an internal border there met each other’s needs. As usual, the Austrians came out feeling better about themselves, even if deep down inside they knew it was just a cover for their own weakness.

Today, the Leitha is just another small river and not even that during certain seasons. The river’s greatest claim to notoriety is that it eventually flows into the mighty Danube. It has long since lost its geopolitical raison d’etre.  The Leitha is now lifeblood to farmers and others who live close by it in eastern Austria. The river’s historical resonance vanished along with the empire that once made it famous in the early 20^th century. For those few who recall the stature it once held, the Leitha offers a fascinating example of the fluidity of borders, both real and imagined. For the Leitha was a real border to the inhabitants of Lower Austria, especially Vienna, who viewed it as a point of differentiation. It was also an imaginary border, one given definition by a colloquialism that was informed as much by the imagination as facts on the ground. This us and them mentality showed that when it came to Austria-Hungary, the ruling powers were not on the same side. Cisleithania and Transleithania were a subtle expression of a known truth.

A Different Kind of Blue – Transleithania in light and darker blue (Credit: Wikipedia – Public Domain)

Bridging A Troubled Relationship – Unified & Divided
Many years ago, the famous American novelist James Michener wrote a work of non-fiction called The Bridge at Andau. The book centered around the story of Hungarians escaping to Austria and the free world during the 1956 Revolution by way of a small footbridge near the Austrian border town of Andau. Perhaps someone in the future will write a book with a similar title about a bridge and town close to the modern Austria-Hungary border. The book could be called Bridge on the Leitha (Bruck an der Leitha). Ostensibly a work of history, the title acting both metaphorical and factual. The “Bridge” on the Leitha would be the Austro-Hungarian Empire which brought two great peoples, Germans and Magyars, together one last time. This imperial experiment lasted for less than a half century, but in that short span of time the Leitha became more than a river, it also became a border which divided and united. A border which today no longer exists except to those who know their history.

A Passport To Practicality- The 1900 Baedeker Guide: Including Hungary & Transylvania (Part One)

It is 1900 all over again as I open a copy of Austria including Hungary, Transylvania, Dalmatia and Bosnia – Handbook For Travellers by Karl Baedeker. A new century has arrived and with it the 9^th edition of a guidebook that had been growing in popularity since the first edition with information on Hungary had been published in 1868. At that time, Hungary was nowhere to be found on the title page. The same was true for Transylvania. Hungary only managed to garner a mere eight pages of coverage in its inaugural appearance. Transylvania received none. Times changed dramatically after that first edition. The marriage of Austria and Hungary in 1867 as the Dual Monarchy (Austro-Hungarian Empire) led to explosive economic growth in Hungary, nowhere more so than the capital city of Budapest. A growing middle class in Europe was searching for new places to visit on vacations. Baedeker helped lead them into a whole new world. The railway network in the Hungarian part of the Empire underwent a massive expansion, which in turn led to increased travel opportunities.

Places that were previously off limits to travelers due to distance, bad roads or topography could now be accessed via a railway network that cast its web into the farthest reaches of the empire’s eastern lands. Traveling to the eastern half of the Austro-Hungarian Empire for English and German language visitors almost always meant going to one of two large railway stations in Budapest, Nyugati (opened in 1877) and Keleti (opened in 1884). These were the shipping and receiving halls for tens of thousands of passengers, many of whom would be traveling around the country with their trusty Baedeker guidebooks in hand. These guides were an indisputable resource that no serious traveler to Hungary could do without. To learn more about this golden age of Hungarian travel, its uniqueness and how it differed from today, I took a closer look at what advice Baedeker offered to travelers.

An Open Book – Austria including Hungary, Transylvania, Dalmatia and Bosnia: Handbook For Travellers by Karl Baedeker

Freedom To Roam – Getting Beyond Borders
Every Baedeker started off with the practicalities of travel. This was as it should be and remains to this day in most guidebooks. The first concern for any traveler then and now is money. The logic quite simple, without money a traveler would not be on a journey to Hungary in the first place. Baedeker’s 1900 edition tells us that Austria-Hungary has just switched over to the Crown as its main form of currency. The traveler should sure to carry a substantial sum of them since English money was of little use and only accepted in a few places. To secure the best exchange rate it was always better to change money within the empire rather than in nearby countries such as Germany. Passports were the next subject of concern. While they were not mandatory in Austria-Hungary, unlike other countries in Eastern Europe at the time, it was a good idea to have one anyway. They were a recognized form of identification. Some museums would not allow access unless the traveler showed their passport first.

The fact that passports were not required for travelers in the Empire is a striking illustration of how there were no internal borders in the Empire at that time. Today, the Empire has fragmented into whole or parts of no less than nine countries (Austria, Italy, Czech Republic, Hungary, Slovakia, Romania, Ukraine, Serbia and Croatia). The European Union has alleviated some, but not all the border crossing difficulties between these successor states. Austria-Hungary was a multinational polity long before the idea of a European Union existed. It connected disparate lands together under Habsburg rule. Baedeker also provided advice for those having to clear customs at border posts when entering Austria-Hungary. Best practices included being present when your luggage was inspected. Customs officials might well confiscate such offensive contraband as “playing cards” and “almanacks.”  While smoking was allowed on trains, the traveler was only exempt from paying duties on up to an ounce of tobacco and ten cigars. Anything beyond that was subject to a fee. Speaking of what a traveler could carry on the trains, luggage was permitted free of charge, depending upon the train and class of carriage a traveler could transport anywhere between 20 and 50 pounds of their belonging. Above these limits a modest fee was charged.

The Search For Ideal Conditions – Lined With Velvet
Such limits on luggage often were dependent upon the class of carriage in which one chose to travel. According to Baedeker there were up to four classes depending on the train. First class was luxurious by the standards of modern train travel. These carriages were “lined with velvet” and offered the best place to secure a window seat. There were usually plenty of spaces available in first class, most likely because second class was in much higher demand. According to the guide, second class carriages were close in comparability first class ones in England. The lowest class, fourth, could best be summed up as standing room only since it had no seating. Today on Hungarian trains, there are only two classes. The number of options when it comes to railway travel, whether of routes, accommodation or food, are much more limited today than they were at the turn of the 20^th century.

One thing that has not changed between the past and present is expense or the relative lack thereof. Baedeker states that “Railway Travelling in Austria-Hungary is less expensive than most other parts of Europe.” The same still holds true today for Hungary and in most of the other regions that were once part of the Empire. Railways were surging with innovation, the same was not true for roads. Baedeker offers the memorable opinion that “the steam-roller is unknown in that country (Austria-Hungary).” The best roads were found in the Austrian part of the empire, but these were no better than “middling English roads.” Just like today, the worst roads were found in the east. A good rain was enough to halt travel by road, this was true even in the larger cities of Hungary. Thus, travel was best by rail, worse by road and the same as ever on foot. Baedeker might be able to provide the best information available for travelers to navigate their way around the region, but conditions in many areas were still less than ideal. That did little to stop travelers armed with the 1900 guidebook from heading into Hungary.

Click here for: A Turn Of The 20th Century Train Ride To Transylvania – Budapest to Klausenberg: The 1900 Baedeker Guide (Part Two)

Time Travel – Budapest’s Millennium Underground Railway (Part One)

In 1873 the cities of Buda, Obuda and Pest were united to create Budapest. At the time of unification the combined population of these three cities was 296,000, by 1900 the population had grown two and a half fold to 733,000. Budapest was the fastest growing city in Europe during the latter part of the 19^th century. The seeds of this explosive growth were laid in 1867 with the “Ausgleich” or compromise. A deal that tied together the Austrian led Habsburg Empire and the Kingdom of Hungary. Together they formed the Austro-Hungarian Empire or Dual Monarchy. This was done in the wake of Austria’s defeat in the Austro-Prussian War of 1866. Without this agreement, there was a distinct possibility that the Habsburg’s Empire would have been absorbed by the Prussians and eventually become part of greater Germany. Due to the compromise, the Habsburg Emperor of Austria, Franz Josef, was crowned the King of Hungary in a resplendent ceremony at the Matthias Church on Castle Hill in Buda. These events inaugurated an era in Hungarian history never seen before or since as the industrial revolution took hold. From 1867 to 1914 the country was transformed by growth, the epicenter of which could be found in Budapest.

Train at Vörösmarty Station on the Millennium Underground Railway (Metro Line One) in Budapest

The M1 – A First For Hungary & Continental Europe
Hungary was given virtual freedom in its domestic affairs, the result was an incredible blossoming of economic, cultural and intellectual life. Budapest attracted immigrants from all over the Hungarian ruled part of the empire. This massive influx of a rural population into the city along with the creation of wealth bolstered by the Industrial Revolution led to grandiose building and transport projects. One of these projects is still thriving today. Unbeknownst to many, Budapest has the second oldest underground metro line in the world and the oldest in continental Europe. Line One of the Budapest Metro (M1), now known as the Millennium Underground Railway, constructed between the years 1894 and 1896. It was one of the many public works projects built in anticipation of the thousand year anniversary of the Magyars (Hungarians) arrival in the Carpathian Basin during the year 896.

In Budapest, the late 19^th century was a time when the city was on developmental steroids. Public works projects in the city were a direct reflection of the growth of Hungarian confidence. While the future was being constructed, it was also used to pay homage to Hungary’s past. All that was great and glorious in Hungary manifested itself in architectural and engineering works that both popped up and delved under the capital city. It was no mistake that Metro Line One was conceived during this era of rapid growth. Built by the Siemens & Halske Company (Siemens still exists today as the world’s largest engineering firm), the line was constructed by 2,000 workers using the cut and cover method. This was done by excavating a trench in the shape of a box, rather than a tunnel. It was also built very close to the surface. This was crucial because at Oktagon square the line had to pass over the main city sewage canal.

The original cars which were used on the Millennium Underground Railway

Curiosity of the Metropolis
The M1 began in the Pest city center than ran the entire length of Andrassy Avenue – Budapest’s grandest boulevard and what has come to be known as the city’s Champs–Élysées – then to the Varosliget (City Park) where the Millennium Exhibition would take place. The impetus for placing an electric railway line underground, rather than running a tram on the surface, was done in order to avoid altering Andrassy’s grand urban setting. At its completion, the line had a total of ten stops.

In The Millennium of Hungary And The National Exhibition: A Collection of Photographic Views published in 1896 an entry titled The Underground Electric Railway gives a glowing description of the line as “One of the curiosities of the metropolis…This underground railway will be a real boon to the visitors of the Exhibition forming an inestimable means of communication between the centre of town and the exhibition…The work which is now perfectly finished, is one of the great feats of modern engineering skill.” Originally known as the Joszef Ferenc Electric Underground Railway Corporation, the M1 was dedicated by the Emperor/King on the 2^nd of May in that triumphal year of 1896. The M1 was certainly a great feat of engineering. Consider that it was built in just twenty months to be ready for the Millennium celebration. Compare this to the second Budapest metro line to be constructed, the M2 Red Line. The M2 was built during the Communist era and took two entire decades for the first iteration to be completed. The communists often said they were building a whole new world. When it came to metro lines like so many other projects they did it as slowly and inefficiently as possible. The M1 proved that energy, efficiency and a focused effort can create a groundbreaking work in transportation history.

Coming Soon: Tripping Through the Golden Age – Budapest Millennial Railway (Part Two)

An Echo Down Vacant Corridors: The Fortresses at Komárom, Hungary & Komárno, Slovakia

A highlight of the train ride between Budapest and Bratislava is the crossing of the Danube. This catches the attention of many passengers as one of Europe’s most important rivers comes into view. The Danube also marks the dividing line between Hungary and Slovakia, a watery ribbon that historically has both connected and divided the two sides. The links between the two towns can be seen in the close kinship of their names. On the Hungarian side stands Komárom, across the water is the Slovakian town of Komárno. These two settlements may now be a part of two different nations, but they share a common history. This shared past includes a feat of military engineering constructed in the 19^th century that superseded the river. The area in and around the two towns contains one of the largest intact 19^th century military fortresses in Central Europe. The alert and knowledgeable passenger may even catch fleeting glimpses of these from the comfort of a railcar.

Monostori – largest fort in Central Europe

A Prison Of Nations – The Habsburgs Guard Against Their Own Empire
Built by the Austrian Habsburgs to guard the Danube, the fortress complex at Komárom and Komárno straddled one of the empire’s most strategic points. The irony was that the fortresses were first built as much to protect against enemies within, as any external foes. The internal threats were the diverse ethnic groups of the Empire that lacked freedom and opportunity. Following the failed Hungarian Revolution of 1848-1849, the Habsburgs decided to ward off any future threats by the creation of forts which could guard against another Hungarian insurgency. This was a case where policy fought the last war rather than the next one. The forts would end up being virtually useless. The long peace that ensued from 1850 until the outbreak of World War I was riven by the rise of ethnic nationalism. The resistance was political rather than martial.

The Austro-Hungarian Empire (1867 through World War I) has been often referred to as “a prison of nations.” This was certainly true. Until the empire collapsed in 1918 it held all or much of what would become Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, as well as constituent parts of Romania, Serbia, Poland and Italy. The revolution from within rather than from without finally caused the empire to disintegrate. This led to the troubled birth of new nations. Gigantic fortifications such as those at Komárom / Komárno were impressive, but did little to solve the Empire’s numerous problems. Yet that did not stop the Austrians from constructing a fortress complex to rival anything found then or now in Europe. These defensive works were part and parcel of the myopic vision that clouded the Empire’s judgment, gargantuan public works projects that signified an affinity for large military fortresses and little else.

Inside Monostori Fortress – history without war

Keeping Up Appearances – The Great Power Facade
The largest fort in the complex, Monostori, is so expansive that its size is difficult for the mind to comprehend. After making a first-hand visit, I am still in awe of the length and breadth of just this one fort. I walked around at least a hundred large rooms, through vast, yawning spaces in both the interior and exterior, across grass covered grounds that could have swallowed fifty football fields. After four hours of wandering I still was unable to cover all of Monostori. This fort was the kind of place that could easily swallow an entire army. It contained 640 rooms with 25,000 square meters of floor space. The barracks could house up to 8,000 soldiers. Just what these soldiers did other than march endlessly across the vast parade grounds, distract themselves with mind numbing drills and try to look busy was open to the imagination. Perhaps they wandered through the four kilometer (2.5 mile) long tunnel system. It is hard to believe that thousands of soldiers were ever needed to monitor river traffic along the Danube or protect an area that was hundreds of kilometers from an enemy. As for protecting the Empire from its rebellious subjects such as Hungarians, the fort did nothing of the sort. After the Compromise of 1867 which created the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Hungarians made up the majority of troops stationed there.

Monostori Fortress was a pre-World War I example of keeping up appearances and little else. Perhaps the fort’s impregnability made an impression on a few would be attackers, but the Empire’s external enemies were hundreds of kilometers away in Serbia or Russia. The main idea that kept the Empire pouring money into Monostori Fortress was that Austria-Hungary still considered itself a great power, thus it had to act like one. This meant having huge, formidable fortresses that gave the pretense of imperial might. The same could be said for another of the empire’s military complexes, the gigantic Przemysl fortress in Galicia. The Austro-Hungarian Empire did what all modern Empires have done, whether they are in rise or decline, waste large sums of money on a large military industrial complex to keep the peace from real and imagined enemies.

Fort Igmand – one of several massive fortresses built by the Austrian Habsburgs

An Exercise In Futility – The Folly Of Empire
Monostori was just one of multiple forts that covered the immediate area. Nearby was the Igmand Fortress, constructed four years after the compromise of 1867. Paradoxically the beginning of a long peace meant more military preparations. The engineer’s must have been delighted. Igmand was noteworthy because it had a clear field of fire for artillery to ward off any attackers.  This artillery was never used in a battle at the fort. It was all just for show or practice. There was also the Csillag Fortress (Star Fortress), yet another work. On the opposite side of the Danube (present day Slovakia), there was yet another large fortress guarding the confluence of the Vah and Danube Rivers. All this construction was for naught. Among the many uses of Monostori after the collapse of Austria-Hungary included a stint as a regimental command center, a deportation point for Roma to concentration camps and ethnic Hungarians forced out of Czechoslovakia. During the Cold War, the Red Army made it the largest ammunition depot in Central Europe. One cavernous room I visited at the fort recalled the Soviet presence. Mannequins sat around a table where they play cards surrounded by a barracks type setup. When I stepped into the room a Soviet military anthem began to sound, eerily echoing through the vacant corridors.

My tour of Monostori was self-guided and went something like this, up one earthwork after another, down and through the bowels of innumerable, drafty rooms, followed by a visit to a museum that exhaustively interpreted every era of the fortress’s history.  Visiting Monostori was more about exercise of a physical rather than mental nature. The place wore me out. The fort’s most enduring quality seems to be the fact that it outlasts everyone who once inhabited or now visits it. I have a feeling that Monostori will still be standing astride the banks of the Danube along with the other forts, for many centuries. They serve as symbols of the Habsburgs misguided and wasteful military policy, the folly of an empire in terminal decline.

The Limits Of What We Know – Khust, Ukraine: Forever On The Fringes

In this age of Google Earth the geographically inclined user can be transported anywhere in the world in a matter of seconds. No place is truly off limits anymore. The whole world is open to discovery, at least in a superficial sense. The corollary to this technologically enhanced method of discovery is that once a place is located, the user can, via the internet find out almost everything they would like to know about a place. If a locale is sizeable enough then it obviously has a Wikipedia entry, which is assumed to contain all the necessary and useful information that one needs.

A week ago I began to research the small Ukrainian city of Khust, in the southwestern corner of the country. The impetus for my research was an amazing video that recreates Khust Castle (Huszt Vara in Hungarian). The castle stood for nearly six hundred years, but in the late 18^th century fell into ruin. Watching that stunning film as the once impressive hilltop castle at Khust came back to life, sent me searching to learn more about the castle and by extension the city. What I discovered left more questions than answers. The internet may be a great source of information, but there are still many gaps to be filled. Though English acts as an international lingua franca it has only so much to say about small cities deep in the backwaters of Eastern Europe. Discovering a place digitally is wonderful, but getting to really know it is exceedingly difficult. Nothing can replicate the actual experience of being there, but learning just a few historical details can cast a fresh light on a place and the past. Here is what I was able to learn about Khust.

Artistic representation of the fully intact Khust Castle

A Castle At A Crossroads
The history of Khust goes back nearly a millennium, beginning in the early Middle Ages. According to the historical record, the castle preceded the town by several hundred years. Actually the first castle on site was utterly obliterated by the Mongol Invasion long before a corresponding town appeared. Khust was a place that would always be under threat. It was never at the core of any lasting kingdom, principality or empire, it was a prototypical fringe community. A noticeable trend in Khust’s history is how it survived despite being at the crossroads of both multi-imperial and multi-national conflicts. Whether it was the Middle Ages or the modern age, Khust has always found itself on one of Europe’s most unstable geo-political fault lines. This was an area where Hungarians, Poles, Tatars and Turks fought for control during the 17^th century. In the 20^th century it was Hungarians, Germans and Russians with Jews and Ruthenians squeezed in the middle. Prior to the modern age, Khust’s best defense against numerous invasions was its castle. This was the only hope of survival when war struck the area, which it often did.

One of the most tumultuous periods in Khust’s history was brought about by the Ottoman Turkish incursion deep into Hungarian territory. Starting in 1644 it was besieged no less than three times over an eighteen year period, each time by a different army. The castle often could withstand the forces of man and military means, holding out time and again. This owed much to its near impregnable position atop a steep volcanic hill. Location was everything for Khust, geography was decisive, making it a place that would undergo numerous sieges down through the centuries. Yet its topographical situation also saved it many times.

The Ruins of Khust Castle (Credit Cora_v)

Natural & Base Instincts – Destruction in Khust
That was until nature had its own way with the castle. In 1766 the castle’s gunpowder tower was struck by lightning, this set off a conflagration which burned much of it to the ground. Then in 1798 a violent storm collapsed the castle’s main tower. What remains of Khust castle today? After reading just a bit of its history I was fascinated to find out. The short answer is not much. Photos online showed little more than stone ruins, but according to first person accounts from travelers who had been there, the view from the ruins was splendid. These same accounts also spoke of the strenuous hike up to the ruins. Obviously, a trek to the remains of Khust castle communicates some of its stalwart defensive position to those who can make the lung bursting journey

Khust has not only lost its castle, but also much of a rich multicultural heritage from a more recent past. At the beginning of the 20^th century, Khust’s most striking characteristic was the diversity of peoples who once inhabited the city. Today, Khust is almost 90% Ukrainian, but a century ago the ethnic makeup was much more stratified, betraying its location on the edge of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In 1910 only half of the population was Ukrainian (actually termed “Ruthenian” changed to Ukrainian as nationalism took hold), a third were Hungarians and another 15% Germans. World War I and its aftermath made Khust the ultimate fringe community. In a withering game of geo-political musical chairs that took place from 1918 to 1945 a citizen of Khust would have lived under an empire, multiple republics (one of which lasted all of a day) as well as Czechoslovakia and the Soviet Union. The only one of these entities that lasted was Hungary, which Khust is quite obviously no longer a part of.

The invisible minority in Khust during that head spinning era were the Jews, who made up a sizable proportion of the populace. Less than forty years after that 1910 Census, the Jews, Hungarians and Germans had all been either murdered or deported. Intolerance and racial prejudice were the forces that made and remade Khust on multiple occasions. The Germans and Hungarians turning on the Jews, the Soviets (led mainly by Russians) deporting the Hungarians and Germans, then Ukrainians left to repopulate the city.

View of Khust from Zamkova (Castle) Hill
(Credit: Cora_v)

Deep In The Heart of History – Traveling To Khust
Today Khust might best be described by one or all of the following terms: afterthought, overlooked, forgotten. This only seems right. Khust’s present is similar to its past, obscure and almost entirely unknown. Yet there is another way of defining Khust that I discovered this past week, fascinating. An existence forever on the fringes has left Khust as part of many larger stories and movements that are of historical importance: geography as destiny, the precariousness of medieval life, the Holocaust, the collapse of empires and rise of the modern nation state. Who would have thought Khust with its crumbling ruin of a castle and a forgotten multi-ethnic past could be so illuminating? And just think this all came out of the very little I discovered online. It makes me wonder what I would find if I went there. It makes me wonder what I will find when I go there.