Art in Budapest a Century Ago

“Tis the privilege of Art
Thus to play its cheerful part,
Man in Earth to acclimate.
And bend the exile to his fate.”
- Emerson

W. B. Forster Bovill: Hungary and the Hungarians, 1908 - CHAPTER VI

BUDAPEST & ART

To Budapest I came with a mind eager to receive its myriad impressions. Budapest has never really disappointed me. It is of towns, towny. Many things I have grown to dislike, but others to love more. When I first arrived it struck me as better than I expected - and I had expected much. Now that I know the byways, and can unattended find my way through its less frequented avenues of communication, it seems to need a less oratorical municipal council. Despite this national weakness, the city is justly styled Budapest the Beautiful. It is the capital, and forces are continually emanating from it, which are but dimly realised in the districts I have already described. Here is much of the history, and all the machinery of the nation.

When the first Englishman visited Budapest it is said that his interpreter was a Turk, for the Sick Man of the East held court at Buda. Today the favourite language is English. No city in Europe has grown more rapidly than Budapest, and the impress of hurry is seen. It is interesting because it is so unlike other cities. No city that I know of has cleaner streets.

With a population of 900,000, it is steadily rising to importance, and will ere long challenge the supremacy of Vienna as the only habitable spot in the Dual Monarchy. In area it covers about 20,000 hectares, an hectare being 2.471 acres.

History of Budapest

The history of this area fascinates one. From the period of the Avars and the Slavs you get the names Buda and Pest. In what is known today as Old Buda stood the ancient city of Ak-ink; whilst in the second century after Christ the Roman city of Aquincum was founded, and it at one time occupied the same site in Ó-Buda.

This old city had varying fortunes, and was subjected to a multitude of rulers. The migration of peoples disturbed its stability, and it was governed in turn by Avars, Goths, Huns, and Slavs. History is silent concerning much of the past, but one thing is certain, that only when the Hungarians penetrated to Buda did any measure of progress exhibit itself. A monument at the foot of the Elizabeth Bridge points eloquently to an historical episode of this era. It is that of Gellert, Bishop of Csanád, who was precipitated from the Gellérthegy into the Danube “by pagan Hungarians.”

As far back as 1156 Buda boasted of a royal castle. What it was like I know not, but the royal palace which proudly rears its white walls from its magnificent situation today is unequalled in Europe. Alas! the King Cometh not. Visitors are shown daily the gorgeous apartments where the Magyars expected Francis Joseph would spend much of his time. The ways of kings, like governments, are past finding out.

Whilst the old palace at Buda was filled with gay courtiers, and the songs of revelry were heard in the twelfth century, and sombre - hued monks with clasped hands and upcast eyes walked in the priory gardens. Pest was assuming commercial proportions, though by means of a large Bulgarian population.

In 1241 the Tartars overthrew everything that had been built, and a year later Buda shared the fate of Pest. Some eight years later, Buda, then of real importance, possessed a military governor. Curiously enough, the first Parliament met in 1286 on the Rákosmező, near Pest. This is a landmark. Following the decease of Louis the Great, the two cities, jealous perhaps of the importance of the one and the prosperity of the other, commenced a series of quarrels which fortunately did not end seriously. Sigismund’s sympathies went out to Pest, seeing that, being commercial, it was able to lend him money. This meant a reduction of the privileges, which were the proud boast of Buda. Antipathy again sought its ends. Pest in the meantime profited by the kindliness of Sigismund. It was made an autonomous town, with power to elect its own judge and sheriffs. At Buda the task of rebuilding the royal palace was proceeded with by foreign architects.

The golden age of Matthias saw both Buda and Pest surrounded by defensive walls, but Buda the centre of learning, gaiety, and courtliness. Then followed Mohács, and the taking and retaking of the city, the unrest, the pillaging, the ruins, hope and faith destroyed. What survived? Comparatively nothing.

When, however, things had quieted down a bit, the great pestilence visited Pest in 1709, doing more havoc than all the Turkish troops. The recuperative capacity of Hungary has been marvellous.

Under Maria Theresa, who, despite the fact that she did something to undermine the constitutional rights of the Magyars, the pontoon bridge was built connecting the two cities. Evidently she preferred government without Parliament, for in forty years she only called the Diet together twice.

The removal of the University from Buda to Pest under Joseph II. was an evidence of the growth of the city and a consciousness of its great future. Joseph never once summoned a Diet. He was a man who made a revolution where only a reform was needed. The real builder of the city was not a king but a noble, a daring, experimenting soul, who, realising the inherent vices of his countrymen, sought by individual effort and practical exhibition to point to a way, which if trod would lead to national prosperity.

To increase the material condition of Hungary was the aim of Count Stephen Széchenyi. He saw the need of a common purpose and a common opinion. Appealing to those of his time, he said: “Seek what is practical, depend on yourselves for your reforms, and keep well in mind that the star of Hungary’s glory has yet to shine.” Poor sensitive soul! when the ideals of his life were nearing realisation, when at last the entire country was pulling a long stroke in the boat of commerce, he was seized with the fear that his country intended to drift into another Revolution, so on Easter Sunday 1860 he shot himself.

In one of his diaries the following was found: “The Germans write much, the French talk much, and the English do much.” Bentham was his political guide, and, in order to make himself fully acquainted with the making of machinery, he entered one of our English factories in 1832, and did the work of a common workman. A noble example, which has never been followed in Hungary.

So long separated, sometimes by parochial jealousies, at others by the caprice of monarchs, and always by the royal Danube, in 1872 a law was passed enacting that from henceforth Buda, Ó-Buda, and Pest should be known as Budapest, the capital of the kingdom of Hungary. Some twenty-one years later the final step was taken, and Budapest became a royal city, equalling in rank gay Vienna.

Budapest - a Great City

The city, which has survived the repeated ravages of the Turks, the great pestilence, the inundation and the Revolution, is not likely to pass into obscurity or remain stationary. Today the West calls in a hundred tones, and slowly perhaps, but certainly, Budapest responds.

Is it a great city? What is a great city? Listen to Walt Whitman: -

“The great city is that, which has the greatest man or woman;
If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in the world.
The place where the great city stands is not the place of stretch’d wharves, docks, manufactures, deposits of produce,
Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new comers, or the anchor-lifters of the departing.
Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings, or shops selling
goods from the rest of the earth,
Nor the place of the best libraries and schools - nor the place where money is plentiest,
Nor the place of the most numerous population. Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands;
Where the city of cleanliness of the sexes stands;
Where the city of the healthiest fathers stands;
Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands,
There the great city stands.”

Budapest is a great city by comparison, and by persevering progress. Greatness here takes another form of expression, the ideal being yet away in the distance. Leaving Belgrad, Bucarest, or Sofia, Budapest appeals to one as great. It is so new, one may almost smell the paint and the lime in the mortar of its joints. If a special phase of architecture is expected, or a highly developed school of painting, then one fears that disappointment awaits you.

Magnificent, and one might almost say gorgeous, buildings have been thrown heavenwards on the once yellow plain of sand called Pest. The things one sees and feels in Italy and Greece, Paris and Moscow, take centuries of cultivation and preservation. One might even doubt the glorious age of Matthias Corvinus were the Corvina codexes not forthcoming, so robbed was Hungary of those things, which are the renown of the places just mentioned.

Architecture

Architecture is usually the first thing, which appeals to the visitor. He expects originality in abundance in every new country. Where music, song, and dance is national, he is not surprised at floridity, but he seeks something else as well. Architecture, save in a few special cases, was compelled to limit itself to the satisfaction of imperative need in past centuries. Therefore you find the rococo style in the Buda Palace, and the classical tendency working itself out in the National Museum. In the Opera, Basilica, and the Custom-house, the genius of Nicholas Ybl, Hungary’s foremost architect, was expended. The very rapidity at, which buildings were erected militated against the development of a definite style. Contributions were, however, made by Steindl, Hauszmann, Czigler, and Schulek.

Painting, Sculpture

In painting and sculpture Budapest has something to show. Here again Hungary suffered more in art than in literature; today, perhaps, she suffers more from literature than art. Be it forever remembered that Durer was a descendant of the Ajtós family, which had emigrated from the county of Békés.

Even today the restlessness of genius and the “eternal wantlessness” of the homeland drives the artist to foreign lands. No good market, no large field for labour. Hungary has lost many of her artistic great in this way.

Mányoky studied in Paris and Holland, then became court-painter to the King of Poland in 1712, and finally died at Dresden.

Augustus Trefort, feeling the shameful void caused by an absence of artistic taste in Hungarian society, pulled the nation together, established the first Art Union, which did much to give an impetus to his ambition. As Minister of Education, Trefort deserves special mention for services to art at this critical juncture. In 1870 Keleti was instrumental in establishing the first School of Art, alongside of, which a partner was soon found in the School of Painting. Individuality craved isolation, hence a definite Hungarian school is yet in the making. The Gödöllő School of Painting is absolutely modern, and modelled upon the lines of Herkomer’s school at Bushey. It is one of the best Hungary has to show in this direction.

Mészöly, Székely, Munkácsy, Lászlo Paál, and Szinyei-Merse, all attest the truth of this.

Great as they were, they founded no school. What stood in the way of this? Some say that it was that spirit of individual independence, which enshrines the Magyar race. Temperament was the stumbling-block, which even close association and companionship, together with deep friendship, never passed over. Again it was each for himself, and Europe for us all.

Politics, too, left its impress upon art. Historical subjects were plentiful. Paintings were full of political allusions, and the days of the nation’s glory never failed to create a profound impression upon public opinion, to, which art often yields. One feels the artist “yearning like a god in pain,” as Keats beautifully sings, remembering past wrongs.

Both Rahl and Piloty influenced to some degree the artistic temperament of the young Magyars. The former found his field in allegorical treatment, the latter in realism and romanticism. Than, Lotz, Benczur, Székely, and Szinyei-Merse were distinguished representatives of these schools. The ceiling of the Opera-house by Lotz is reminiscent of his master. Than is seen at his best in the frescoes of the Central Railway Station. Szinyei-Merse, though a pupil of Piloty’s, broke away from his master and his companions, and went in for colour effects such as Nature provides. It was the redness of the wild red poppies and the luxuriant green of the grass that thrilled him. In after years, when he became the intimate friend of Arnold Bocklin, this desire to throw upon canvas the power and strength of colours was accentuated.

In all Hungarian painting there is temperament. Two pictures, which have always fascinated me in the Picture Gallery are by Benczur and Székely. The Baptism of St. Stephen by the former is a national masterpiece, whilst equally valuable is the historical contribution of Székely’s The Finding of the Unfortunate King of Hungary, Louis II., who perished at Mohács. Benczur is a leader amongst painters. Another painting of his, which perhaps does not enjoy so great a reputation, but, which never fails in arresting the attention of all, is The Christening of Vajk. The colouring, grouping, and feeling thrown into this picture is extraordinary. There is perhaps not that variety of facial expression significant of Munkácsy, but it addresses the feelings rather than the intellect. Székely in his masterpiece contents himself with a less crowded canvas, but a canvas into, which steals that mystic something that “doth stir the airy part of us.” But there is another Székely to see, or another branch of art in, which the man unfolds himself. Later years saw Székely as the great fresco painter. In the grand church of Pócs and the Matthias Church at Buda wonderful specimens of his skill are to be found.

Amongst the great dead yet living is Munkácsy. Hungarian art was first really appreciated in England through the medium of this master spirit. So prolific was he, so diverse in treatment, and yet so great, that he became the J6kai of art. In Munkácsy one saw again the unbound fresh temperament. It was the great world outside Budapest that awakened this, not the mere art in the man. Hungary would have crippled him, clipped his wings so that neither he nor his genius, nor even Hungarian art, would have gained that importance, which travel invested it with. Whilst a scholar he painted The Convict’s Last Days, a picture that captivated the Paris Salon. Leaving purely national subjects, he won everlasting and universal fame by his religious pictures - Christ before Pilate, Golgotha, and Ecce Homo. These are known the whole world o’er, and did more for bringing into notice Hungary and its art than anything else. Munkácsy plied his brush with broad gestures in the inspiration of the moment, independently of the object which he painted, yet never once destroyed the intense humanness and wealth of feeling each individual possessed. That artistic excitement, which we in our pagan language sometimes call “soul” is found in all his work. As you enter the new Art Gallery you are confronted by his largest canvas, and in some respects the most striking. The Conquest of the Land is an imposing example of Munkácsy’s facial repertory. Close beside his work in the Art Gallery may be found that of another of those wandering souls who found the atmosphere of Budapest too stifling and sought a more sympathetic home in Paris.

László Paál, even now, is not appreciated as he should be. Barbizonian influences told upon his work. Paál found an outlet for his genius in painting trees. Gazing at his work, you feel the life of a tree, its expression changing with the seasons, as a man. Now “wearing Autumn’s gaudy livery, whose gold Her jealous brother pilfers,” or listening to the plane tree whispering some tale of love to the pine, catching at the same moment “The odor of leaves, and of grass, and of newly upturned earth.” Alas! Paál died at thirty-two, but his work remains.

Feszti is another who sought expression in historical subjects. His Entry of the Hungarians under Árpád is a colossal picture.

In the school of realism Zichy rises high above his contemporaries, and his talent gained much by the long sojurn in St. Petersburg, where he lived as court-painter.

Of portrait painters Hungary is not, or never was scant. Their number is legion. Benczur, Horowitz, Vastagh, Balló, Karlovszky and Philip László, to mention just a few. In London the work of László is known best, and the commission to paint the portrait of King Edward Vll. is the crowning effort of his genius. Hungarian artists prefer the incidents of common life, and here they undoubtedly score. A good example of this order is found in Bihari’s Before the Judge.

Much of Hungarian painting is genre. The varied phases of painting are well represented by Vágó, Margittay, Pataky, Nadler, Csók, Jendrasik and Tornay.

In the realm of landscape painting candidates for honour have always been scarce. Mészöly was one of the first to tear himself away from the limitations of the Academies. Both he and Markó won fame, and Keleti, Telepy, Mednyánszky painted with no uncommon feeling. Italy again made its contribution to Hungarian art, for Markó visited that land when it had left “behind its mummified Byzantine origin,” and turned once more to nature.

Mészöly, a leader in modern landscape painting, made a speciality of Lake Balaton. In these pictures, so full of real poetry and yet so simple, and all toned by peculiar melancholy, one recognises the modern spirit at work. He was attracted not by expansive effects, for these never moved him. But he could not remain indifferent to the soft colour reflections the lake shed, the still rushes, and the picturesque huts. Thus he opened up to Hungarian art Hungary, with some of its less intimate traits, employing not so much colour as fine drawing and perfect tone.

Another young industrious painter, Ákos Tolnay, is steadily striding into notice and renown. I had almost forgotten the rich impressionistic work of Kacziány, which has reached an unusually high standard, some of, which is really marvellous.

Of capable women painters Hungary is scant. Amongst those worthy of mention may be named the Countess Nemess, Ida Konek, Wilhelmina Parlaghy and Madame Sikorska, who is much less known than she should be, several of her landscapes being far above the average.

Engraving and illustration are now receiving serious attention, and colour reproduction comes on apace.

Sculpture has very little historical background. Not much survived the severe national struggle. The stone and marble statues were burnt to lime and chalk, whilst the barbarians made cannon of the bronze figures. A few primitive reliefs leading to the crypt of the church at Pécs, more reliefs at Gyulafehérvár, and the rich ornamental work at Ják. Not until the middle of the nineteenth century did sculpture again begin to assert itself. Its two pioneers, Ferenczy and Engel, were regarded as possessing the essential spark of genius. The former owed much to public feeling, whilst the latter gained some distinction by his mythological female figures. His monument of Széchenyi is generally regarded as a failure. Izsós’ work at Debrecen is worthy of remembrance. At the death of Huszár, an opportunity was given to Strobl and Zala, men capable of achieving European renown. In the monument in front of the National Museum Strobl beautifully portrayed Arany the poet, whilst Zala rose in eminence by the Andrássy statue before the Parliament House. Today a younger school is rising into power, Ligeti, Teles, and Szamovolsky, and they all bid fair to eclipse the deeds wrought in stone by their ancestors.

There are other branches of art flourishing, but these I intend to deal with in connection with the distinct towns and villages in, which they flourish. It is obvious that Hungary is not a wild land, devoid of those feelings, which lead communities and nations into the broad daylight of modern civilisation. On the contrary, there are stored up in Budapest ample evidences of those qualities without, which no nation may claim greatness - infinite patience and perseverance in art and literature, if not in other things, a marvellous capacity for recovery, and a sterling sense of independence, which should eventually lead to an awakening consciousness of greatness.

There is, however, yet lacking that intellectual tingling in the atmosphere of Budapest that one finds in other large cities. It is easily explainable. Today there is too much politics and too little practical idealism. Victor Hugo said:

“It is necessary that the ideal should be breathable, drinkable, and eatable to the human mind. It is the ideal, which has the right to say, ‘Take, this is my body, this is my blood.’ ”

Other Fine Places

Budapest the Beautiful - yes, it is true! One must only walk along the Corso and gaze at the Buda bank to realise how beautiful it all is.

A temperate climate, drinkable water, ready means of communication, cheap theatres, beautiful parks, a prolific Press, unlimited music, never-ending cafes, grand baths, plentiful supply of churches, museums galore, what more can mere man desire?

If I ask the Hungarian workman in Budapest this question today, he will answer, More money and the vote. Ere long I prophesy he will have both these. Living is expensive, and the English murmur, Give me the advantages of Free Trade.

Hotels are numerous, but few are convenient. The best by a long way is the Hungaria, though the Bristol is not far behind.

Apartments vary in price and cleanliness, and that absurd system of paying to come in or go out after ten o’clock at night is still in vogue. It is time this relic of barbarism was abolished.

Quite a number of cheap good restaurants may be found. Alas! in all one must tip. In Hungary in most places it is a threefold tip that is needed. One to the pay waiter who brings you your bill, one to the waiter who should see you are filled, and one to the little boy who brings you your drink. In the less ornate restaurant you may give ten filler to the pay waiter, ten filler to the waiter, and three filler to the boy. Double this in the swagger places.

Cafés are a feature of Budapest. Some of these are simply wonderful in design and ornamentation. Home- life is reduced to a minimum here. The café is the meeting-place, it is the school for scandal - alas! how well I know it! In the morning men monopolise it, in the afternoon and early evening women predominate, whilst again at night men are found in profusion. It is a social institution. Here one finds all the newspapers, and they are fundamentally reading rooms. The individual paper buyer, save those of the revolver press^ are few indeed. In Budapest the coffee-house is the best customer the publisher has. Here, morning, afternoon, and night, may be found the life of Budapest. Streets often deserted and empty, not a soul to be seen but the proverbial cat.

Cafés ablaze with light, and abounding in conversation and music. Gipsy music, or a ladies’ band, which you like. Peep into one. It has an atmosphere peculiarly its own. Is it found in bizarre decoration, quaint spandrils, voluptuous architecture, or prodigality of colouring? No! Luxuriousness fosters sensuousness, and without that impulsiveness and capacity for impressions, which borders upon error yet remains aloof from it, one is unable to adequately apprehend the full mystery of the Magyar spirit. You enter for coffee; you are given an inspiration. What in most places in Europe is a commonplace is in Budapest a speciality; with your coffee comes a glass of delightfully cold, clear water. You gaze at both for a moment, light a cigarette, ask for a newspaper - if you care - then settle down for the evening.

There is something autocratic in the atmosphere of a Hungarian Kávéház. It is the appeal of the Eastern in the place that so captivates you - an appeal not made in the ineloquent forms of the written or spoken word, but in that graceful perfect form employed by the pervasive spirit, that penetrating, absorbing sense of invisible personality. A new spirit passes through the room as the orchestra strikes decisively the opening note. It is a long note, and you wait breathlessly for its companions. The gypsy band knows but one cue, its conductor, who stands, or rather waves, drawing from his violin a wealth of ballad, legend, and history. The effect of all this is marvellous. It is psychic.

Feet once motionless and reposeful now become agitated, whilst the fingers take on an elasticity undreamt of, History makes its appeal on strings impregnated and pulsating with human feeling. What the leader thinks you are made to think. He touches the entire keyboard of human thought and feeling, “from passion to irony, sarcasm to the sob.”

The Opera is good. It is a fine building in the Renaissance style, and cost some six million crowns. In the main entrance the statues of two distinguished Hungarian musicians may be found. On the left that of Erkel, whilst opposite is placed that of Liszt, both the work of Strobl.

In the Nemzeti, or National Theatre, serious drama is produced, and produced well.

The manager is a most capable man, with a profound liking for English pieces; consequently one may see Merely Mary Ann and several of Wilde’s wonderful plays. Here the standard of acting is high, particularly amongst the women: Mary Jászai and Emilia Márkus are a long way ahead of their contemporaries, splendid in tragedy and capable in comedy. Both the Opera and National Theatre belong to the State.

Four other large theatres, with two summer theatres and a scientific theatre of the dissolving view order, comprise the list of places for the “serious drama.”

Music halls and Cinematographs now abound.

Thanks to Széchenyi, several fine clubs exist, the National, Gentry, Park, and the Jewish clubs being the best.

Lovers of museums are well provided for. The most interesting from many points of view is the most recent. It is the Agricultural Museum, and in an unmistakable manner it presents Hungary better than any book could do it. The romance of agriculture is seen at a glance. In the realm of statistical demonstration Hungary is practically unequalled in the world. In the Agro-Geological Department the visitor is made acquainted with the various qualities of superficial soils and their extensions. The Wheat Hall discloses samples from fifty-three different counties, each district showing the progress or failure of ten successive years. The wheat grown each year, as well as the soil and the results, is presented in tubes analysed by State experts. These are placed for comparison alongside all the wheat from foreign countries. Vegetables are presented in much the same way. As so much havoc is wrought by ignorance in dealing with injurious insects, a special department shows how fruit and vegetables are attacked, the months in, which to look for trouble, their method of destruction, and the most successful means to be adopted for repelling such. In another department the same thing is done for fruit and plants, etc. Gazing at the walls, it is easy to see at a glance the spot where the most sun falls, where rain is most prevalent, and where cold is practically unknown. Or you may see where to go for corn, grapes, oil, horses, where the real Magyar lives, where small holdings flourish best, and where one may obtain a glimpse of the real gipsies, or the Slovaks, Swabians, Wallachs, or Serbs. Every phase of agricultural life is exhaustively treated. A wonderful collection of traps for birds and animals forms by no means the least interesting feature of the Museum.

This Museum, with four or five of the most important, occupies a splendid situation’ in the Városliget (City Park). Here was where the Hungarians held their great Millennial Exhibition in 1896. A place is also found here for the Museum of Budapest, containing objects of interest peculiar to the town. Nothing of exceptional or exciting value is to be found here.

The Ethnographical Museum, on the other hand, though quite small, is of immense value to all students of Hungary.

The National Museum, which is situated in the Múzeum-Körút, is also of immense interest.

The things that pleased me most were the examples of the Hungarian goldsmith’s work from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries. Rákóczy’s fighting club still interests many. There is a beautiful goblet with lid worked by the famous Transylvanian goldsmith Hahn, which belongs to the early seventeenth century. A great collection of relics from the bronze age and the epoch of the migration of the nations. Most of these come from the Hungarian provinces, whilst the Roman antiquities give some idea of the culture of the Roman provinces of Pannonia and Dacia. Before this Museum could really settle down to its final home it had several vicissitudes. In 1805 it was with all its treasures removed to Temesvár, and four years later to Nagyvárad, all on account of the terrors of the French War. In 1838, the period of the great inundation, the costly treasures returned and have remained here ever since.

The Hungarian Academy of Science, which occupies a fine building in the Renaissance style, is much older in idea than the National Museum. History carries one back to the fifteenth century and the founding of the “Sodalitas Litteraria Ungarorum,” also to the movement in 1760 to raise the University to a Scientific Society. Despite Széchenyi’s noble offer at the Pozsony Parliament of 1825 - that of giving a year’s income to the Academy - it was not until 1859 that a permanent building was decided upon. In 1862 the building was commenced, and cost nearly two million crowns.

Close to the Academy is the Lánchíd, or Chain Bridge, built by an Englishman named Clark. During the struggle for independence the work of building was carried on with no little danger and difficulty. Colonel Alnoch, who commanded the Austrian troops garrisoning the fortress, gave an order one day to blow up the Buda part of the bridge, in order to check the victorious march of the Magyars. Two kegs of powder were placed under the bridge, whilst he himself set fire to the train, which did not destroy the bridge but only the gallant colonel.

From: W. B. Forster Bovill, Hungary and the Hungarians, 1908

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