Figure 2. Diário da Manhã, November 7, 1956, 1

 

During the War of the Fifth Coalition (1809), the idea of “national war” was put into practice in the Austrian Empire. Not only the Habsburg military system was reformed, but the war was accompanied by an extensive propaganda campaign, implemented by intellectuals in the service of the Viennese Court. In Hungary, the palatine, Archduke Joseph was responsible for harmonizing the military innovations with the constitutional traditions of the country. The mobilization was carried out mainly by the partly modernized insurrectio, which obliged the masses of nobility to do personal military service in exchange for their privileges. This anachronistic means of defense tried to satisfy, lopsidedly, the demand of manpower in an age of mass warfare. Consequently, the imperial propaganda also had to be adapted to the particular Hungarian situation. This paper investigates this unique Hungarian situation, through analysing the relationship between the military mobilization of the nobility by the insurrectio and the efforts of the official propaganda to construct a valorous and patriotic self-image of the Hungarian nation. First, the study analyses the limited reforms concerning the traditional system of defence of the estates. Second, it presents how the official propaganda of the insurrectio shaped the ideal image of the “noble warrior” on national level in the periods of mobilization, war and demobilization. Third, it discusses the cult of heroes and the fallen of the insurrectio both on national and local (county) level. It argues that this cult proved short-lived in the long run because of the defeat of Austria, the shortness of the war, the uneven involvement of the counties in fighting, and so forth. The paper concludes that the insurrectio of 1809, which was the last great moment of the military mobilization and the valorous patriotic-national ideology of the nobility, did not fit the modern nation-building process and therefore has never incorporated into the Hungarian nationalism as a true “national war.”

Keywords: Patriotism, nation-building, nobility, Napoleonic wars, propaganda, Kingdom of Hungary, Austrian Empire, cult of heroes, mobilization

“Anyone who believes that this levy will also be
merely a ceremony is quite mistaken.”1
Ferenc Kazinczy

Introduction

According to the passage cited above, Ferenc Kazinczy, the prominent writer, translator, literary figure, and language-reformer of his time, predicted the peculiarity of the Hungarian insurrectio, a kind of feudal levy, of 1809 some months before the war erupted again between the Austrian Empire and Napoleonic France. The insurrectio obliged above all the nobility, which made up almost 5 percent of the population of Hungary,2 to perform military service personally or by a substitute from time to time as a “blood tax” in exchange for their privileged status.3 The Kingdom of Hungary enjoyed considerable independence within the Habsburg Monarchy and had to be governed on the grounds of its laws and customs.4 The “constitutionalism of the estates” took shape during the eighteenth century when many major political issues (many of which were connected to military affairs) began to be interpreted as “constitutional.”5 Even if the ius ad bellum was reserved for the king, from the estates’ viewpoint, many military issues demanded diets.6 According to the practice of political dualism, the king was compelled to negotiate with the estates at diets on military issues.7 Consequently, in the first decades of the nineteenth century, the estates kept several military issues under tight control, including the amount of recruits and war tax (contributio) (paid by common people), the offering and regulation of the obsolete insurrectio for the king’s demand, and the provision of extraordinary and voluntary military aid (subsidium) by the nobility (and groups linked to them).8 The government had to be flexible enough to win over the consent and support of the estates for wars, which demanded diets, while also maintaining and using the political influence of the palatine. The palatine at the time was Archduke Joseph, a younger brother of King and Emperor Francis I. In the first decade of the nineteenth century, Joseph turned into an increasingly autonomous leader of the country in his intermediary role, and he tried both to meet the expectations of the Viennese court and to respect the constitutional traditions of Hungary.9 He was also the commander-in-chief of the insurrectio, and under his guidance, the troops were arranged by the counties. These counties enjoyed considerable autonomy and were led by the wealthy landowning gentry. Given the stalwart constitutional traditions of the country and the politically aware and active elites of the body politic of the nobility, it was essential for the government to develop effective persuasive techniques, and this included broadscale propaganda efforts.

Between 1792 and 1815, the insurrectio was called to arms four times: in 1797, 1800, 1805, and 1809. Kazinczy’s prediction soon proved prescient. While previously the troops had been assembled, compelled to do military exercises, and then disbanded ceremonially at most,10 in the War of the Fifth Coalition between the Austrian and the French Empires (from April 10 to October 14, 1809), they were deployed against the French and their allies and suffered moderate casualties in some smaller encounters and in the Battle of Győr on June 14.11 Members of the public administrative bodies and the civilian population of Western Hungary also experienced the upheavals and dangers of war and occupation for roughly six months. In 1809, though the Hungarian theater was not as significant militarily, mobilization, war propaganda, and the engagement of the units consisting of members of the nobility were experiences of vital importance for the estate polity (Ständestaat) and society.12

In the present study, I deal with three aspects of the relations between mobilization, war, and collective identities, focusing on the official propaganda concerning the insurrectio during the war of 1809. First, I demonstrate the significance of the insurrectio within the corporative defense system, as well as the interactions of traditionalism and innovation in military affairs. I then discuss the backbone of the official “propaganda machinery” on the national level, which was institutionalized to some extent. The official and semi-official propaganda concerning the insurrectio came into being due to Archduke Joseph, and it was produced and circulated by central authorities. While considerable propaganda activities and distinctive and even different local and imperial notions of patriotism were developed on the county and imperial levels, these remained subordinate to the national level. I then show how, based on these products of official propaganda, an all-pervasive patriotic-national collective identity concept was shaped, in the center of which was placed a hegemonic, ideal image of the “noble warrior” as a distinctive version of “patriotic-valorous masculinity.”13

The Austrian “Moment” of 1809 and Hungary

After the Peace of Pressburg (1805), Austria made considerable efforts to reorganize itself to wage a successful war to come against Napoleon. First, significant personal changes were carried out in the highest governmental circles. Second, further military reforms were introduced. The standing army was modernized by Archduke Charles and a new compulsory, selective militia14 formed on territorial grounds, the so-called Landwehr, came into being in June of 1808 thanks to the initiative of Archduke John.15 Closely intertwined with these changes, perceptions of the importance of public opinion also changed, and the government undertook propaganda efforts to develop and foster a strong pro-Austrian sentiment. These measures demonstrated the resilience of the Habsburg Monarchy. Regarding Austria, the exceptionality of the war of 1809 from the perspectives of the relationship between new forms of mobilization and extensive propaganda, and new patriotic-national leitmotifs have been identified as essential characteristics by the earlier and more recent German and international secondary literature.16 The arming of the people together with the dramatic increase in propaganda intended to shape public opinion proved significant not only for German and Austrian history in general (and for the provincial history of Tyrol in particular), but also from the broader European perspective of the Napoleonic Wars.

Propaganda activities were led, supported, and encouraged by the representatives of the highest governmental circles, including for instance people such as Count Johann Philipp Stadion and Archduke John, and they were carried out by well-known intellectuals in the German cultural space, such as writer Friedrich Schlegel, publicist Friedrich von Gentz, and historian Baron Joseph von Hormayr. This propaganda fashioned and promulgated a complex patriotic-national ideology which stretched from the ardent German nationalism of the “political Romantics” through imperial patriotism to provincial and local-regional patriotisms, in line with the emerging idea of “people’s” or “national wars” (Volks- or Nationalkrieg) in a multiethnic composite state, which intended to legitimize the war with reference to alleged patriotic-national interests.17 Domestically, the propaganda was aimed first and foremost at the literate middle classes with the intention of developing popular support for a future war and mobilizing as many people as possible by means of ideological incentives to join the Landwehr, also involving social groups and strata which had been remained intact from military service before.18 Abroad, the initiators tried to legitimize the war for the political elites and the educated public, and they also strove to curry the sympathies of people in French-occupied German territories. Nevertheless, the War of 1813–15 was fought on more traditional grounds again by Austria.19 All things considered, the arming of the people and the sudden flurry of propaganda could be treated as a “moment” in two ways: it turned out to be short-lived, but it was influential from a wider historical perspective.

During the era, in the Kingdom of Hungary, military mobilization and war propaganda played a role that was no less important, but peculiar, according to its constitutional and socio-political characteristics. In particular, the mobilization of the four insurrectio produced a vast corpus of propaganda efforts in various genres. In 1809, the need to persuade the masses of the privileged boosted the emerging production of short and simple printed matter which could easily accessed and distributed due to the steady rise of literacy even among the petty nobility. Both central and local authorities, acknowledged poets, writers, and occasional rhymers were actively involved in this tremendous production, which developed a distinct martial patriotic-national ideology of corporative character on national and local levels. The Hungarian case, however, was almost entirely ignored even within the most detailed German language and international narratives.20 Thus, these narratives offered only a partial picture. The Hungarian scholarship has largely neglected the field for a long time, despite the fact that the importance of the war of 1809 (and particularly the insurrectio) was (re)discovered as early as in the late nineteenth century, and some studies were also published on the political literature.21 Nevertheless, systematic research on war propaganda based on up-to-date methods (re)started a decade ago among literary historians.22

Military Mobilization and Limits of Reforms within the Estates’ System

In the early nineteenth century, the system of defense was still built on the traditional constitutional-legal structure of the country and organized along corporative dividing lines. According to some, the standing army was introduced into Hungary by Article VIII of 1715 into Hungary. Others have pointed out that the article merely legalized the former practice regarding military issues and funding, provided that the war tax had to be offered at diets or smaller ad hoc assemblies (concursus).23 In the course of the wars with France, three means of defense could be distinguished, one permanent and two extraordinary. The “Hungarian regiments” (the elite Hussar cavalry and the infantry of lower prestige) of the regular army, whose name referred to the territory in which the forces were recruited, were the first. Regarding their organization and deployment, these were not nationalized and were at the king’s disposal. The regiments were financed by and regularly recruited from the common people by voluntary recruitment or by drafting as an extraordinary measure.24 In the period, apart from Tyrol and Northern Italy, the only land where the Habsburg government could not introduce conscription (and with that the canton and furlough system) was Hungary due to the fierce resistance of the estates,25 so the period of military service remained indefinite, which meant it was practically lifelong.

The two extraordinary means were organized on the grounds of corporative privileges. First, the “free royal and mining cities” were expected to erect “burgher guards” (which had operated sporadically before) in 1805 as an option and in 1808 as an obligation. These communal militia-like units were responsible for the maintenance of public safety and order, as well as for city defense.26 Second, the insurrectio was also preserved after 1715. It consisted of people from different communities, groups and strata, but it was appropriated by the nobility, which considered themselves the body politic, the country (regnum), or the nation (natio) in its narrower corporative political sense.27 As historian Zoltán Tóth has pointed out, the “norm of estates” referred to certain communities based on moral judgments and expressed a segmented concept of society. Class stratification (based on financial circumstances) was also cut by a “dividing line” following from the legal status. So-called liberty (libertas) was reserved for the (landowning) nobility in its entirety (including exemption from taxes),28 which in exchange owed only periodical and temporary military service as part of the insurrectio. Noble status did not include strict financial and lifestyle requirements.29 This view was supported by the legal fictions of István Werbőczy’s Tripartitum (1517):30 the “one and same liberty” (una eademque libertas) of all noblemen (despite this alleged norm, for ages, the nobility was stratified not only by wealth and property but also by legal status) and the theory of subjugation, which justified the difference between nobles and serfs on the basis of a historical narrative. According to this narrative, the original equality of all Hungarians ceased after some had refused to perform military service and had been expelled from the political community. The norm attributed a free, militant, and morally superior character to the nation (natio or gens) as the exclusive political community of noblemen, which found expression in the insurrectio as the most superior form of military service.

In fact, the insurrectio was not subject to any permanent regulations, had no strength in times of peace, did not regular yearly exercises, and had no permanent officer staff, no magazines, etc. The conditions of its actual mobilization were regulated from time to time at the diets for a specified period. The blurriness of the related old articles and customary law provided considerable leeway for the two poles of the dualistic political system to present different, politically motivated interpretations of the same issues. In the era of the French wars, the king had no choice but to rely on the estates, and though both poles and several officers insisted on the need for urgent military reforms,31 the strong constitutional culture made it impossible to agree on and implement reforms, as they could have been pronounced unconstitutional by some party. Even if this political deadlock left little elbow room for substantial reforms, some limited measures were still introduced in Hungary to modernize its system of defense.32

The powerhouse of reforms was Archduke Joseph. He proposed the introduction of a modified version of the Landwehr system and published a plan for the king.33 This plan concerned the modernization of the insurrectio and the introduction of the reserve system, and it also included the extension of military service by different military institutions. The palatine argued that, “The forthcoming war […] has to be in its entirety a national war, [in which] the able masses of the nation have to fight totally or partly with armies to get the upper hand and to overcome.”34 This inventive draft was discussed in parallel with a traditionalist one (of the diet of 1807). In the end, significant if limited and provisional reforms were introduced: while the reserve system was abandoned, the regulations regarding extraordinary means of defense (Article II and III of 1808) proved more forward-looking than any earlier efforts.

In 1808, the estates offered to allow the king to call the insurrectio to arms “once and without any future consequences” for three years. At the same time, strong conditions were imposed: the insurrectio was to be mobilized only in case of war if the regular army was not able to hold off the enemy and the borders of the country were threatened by invasion. These measures limited the efficiency of the insurrectio, but they guaranteed the influence of the estates over the manner in which it might be used. Because of its political significance, its (de)mobilization “was a more complicated task and demanded much more work” than the (de)mobilization of a standing army of the same size would have required.

The norm of exceptionalism for the nobility found expression in the insurrectio in 1808 more strongly than it ever had before. Historically, in most cases the nobility did military service along with the common people: the insurrectiones were usually raised partly (mostly the officers, NCOs, and cavalry) from noblemen, this being their duty, and partly from non-nobles (mostly peasants as infantryman) by recruitment or pressure.35 This time, however, primarily the nobility and the groups attached to it were obliged to do personal military service. The county authorities conscripted members of the nobility who were between the age of 18 and 50. One person from each family with at least one member who was capable of performing service had to serve personally. Substitution (i.e., paying a fee in lieu of military service) was a standard and legitimate method of intervention in the compulsory selection process in every conscripted army of the age,36 much as it had been standard practice for the insurrectio, but this time it was made more difficult for one to avoid serving in person even in cases in which someone else could be provided as a substitute. Those who had been legally exempted from personal service could fulfil their duty by means of substitution.

This offer was narrower in its entirety than the former general levies, but it involved the nobility more deeply in person than any other had.37 It could be considered a kind of compulsory, selective, conscripted national militia of the nobility as a political community. However, its members were not conscripts in the traditional sense.38 This tendency in spirit could be regarded as a peculiar application of the idea of “citizen-soldier” to the estate polity.39 This sheds some light on two of the main characteristics of the institution: it was an embodiment of tendencies towards “nationalization” and “emancipation,” though remaining within the boundaries of the estates.

“Nationalization” in this context refers to measures which were intended to bring the insurrectio as a traditional, loosely organized corporative means of defense closer to the state-of-the-art national militia, which fit into the emerging conception of “national wars.” These measures indicated some overlap between the reformist ideas of the palatine (who sought to reinforce the military and the national character of the insurrectio) on the one hand and, on the other, the demands of the estates, which were increasingly committed to certain national issues which went beyond the traditional politics of grievances. From this perspective, the regulations of 1808 could be seen as a partial and temporary success of the nation-building process within the political world of the estates which served at the same time the immediate needs of the government.

In line with the prevailing constitutional traditions, the articles assured the independence of the insurrectio as a separate military body with the palatine as its commander-in-chief, a body which should not be mingled with the regular army. In the past, the troops were also deployed outside Hungary’s borders, for instance in 1741–42 during the War of Austrian Succession. However, in 1808 emphasis was placed on the stipulation that the insurrectio could only be used as means of national defense. The organizational structure of the insurrectio was built on the four districts of the kingdom (Transdanubian, Cisdanubian, Transtibiscan, Cistibiscan), each of which was headed by a district general and his staff. The parity of ranks with the regular army was also declared. The officer staffs were elected autonomously by the county assemblies and confirmed by the palatine, strengthening thus the local-regional character and patriotic engagement of each unit at the expense of military competence.

In the context of the emerging linguistic-ethnocultural elements in the patriotic-national thinking of the nobility, the introduction of Hungarian as the language of command was a significant success in the “Magyarization” process,40 which disgusted some people in Viennese governmental circles.41 A vernacular official military terminology was elaborated for the infantry and cavalry in a short time by a working group led by Count Joseph Beckers, the palatine’s chief adjutant, translated into Hungarian by military and civil experts and revised by a military committee.42 Troop training manuals were printed in early 1809 and sold to the counties. In practice, under time pressures, these measures made it difficult to communicate with transferred army officers and anyone who spoke Hungarian only badly or not at all. Since Hungary was a multiethnic kingdom, even within the nobility tens of thousands of people did not speak Hungarian as their native tongue and used Latin as the language of politics.43

As a part of this nationalization, a push towards uniformity was also of utmost importance. The palatine wanted the insurrectio to be clearly distinguished from the regulars and not to be treated as a “Landsturm” or “Volksaufstand” (as in the case of Tyrol) “by the enemy.” It had to be recognized as “eine Truppe,” a “troop force,”44 i.e., as legitimate combatants to whom the laws of war applied. For this reason, a central regulation was issued. The unified cavalry and infantry uniforms included some traditional national accessories and sartorial motifs, and the troops could be distinguished by the color of their lapels (for the infantry) and shakos (for the cavalry), which differed by district. These measures weakened the parochial character of the insurrectio, but the counties could continue to use their symbols (coats of arms), both local and national, as well as patriotic Latin slogans (e.g., “VITAM ET SANGUINEM” or “PRO REGE ET PATRIA”) and embroidered ribbons with inscriptions on their baroque-style flags.45

The aforementioned tendency towards “emancipation” bifurcated in two ways. First, a kind of limited compulsory military service was introduced for the nobility based exclusively on legal status. This could be considered an egalitarian step regarding military duties. Thus, the law obliged one able member of each noble family to perform military service personally, regardless of wealth and title, from the poor petty noblemen to magnates, including naturalized nobles who lived abroad. At the same time, it was intended to counterbalance the financial inequalities within the noble community. To this, a system of “progressive” rates was introduced based on declared annual incomes from 1807. While the wealthier had to mount and support themselves as cavalryman, the poorer could serve and be equipped in the infantry at public expense. A national fund was founded to compensate for differences among the counties (due to the size and wealth of their nobility) to which the wealthy had to contribute more, and local funds were also established.

In 1809, as a consequence of the reforms of the previous year, the masses of the nobility were mobilized in Hungary depending on the actual number of able-bodied noblemen of each county, while in Croatia and Slavonia mostly the forces consisted for the most part of non-nobles, for several reasons. The troops were organized into cavalry regiments and infantry battalions, in most cases cavalry squadrons and divisions, and infantry companies of two or more counties were added to reach the desired unit size. From February to April 1809, the Palatine and Prince Primate of Esztergom Archduke Charles Ambrosius were ordered by the king to tour the counties and exhort the nobility to provide even more men for the cavalry, which was considered more prestigious and effective than the infantry. Because of these efforts, more cavalry units were offered at the expense of wealthy local magnates and nobles than they originally had had to provide by law. According to historian István R. Kiss, 17,266 men were provided for the cavalry and 20,361 were sent to serve in the infantry in total, which were organized into 18 regiments in 19 battalions, together with later voluntary offers.46 Apparently, not all of them were conscripted from and maintained by the nobility, but the units that did consist of nobles made up a significant proportion of the forces. The nobility also made considerable financial and organizational contributions, as reflected in the total number of them in the Kingdom of Hungary.47

Archduke Joseph and the Official Propaganda Machinery

The products of German-language pro-Austrian, anti-Napoleonic propaganda were widely available in Hungary too, though the independence of the country, the mobilization of the insurrectio, and the persuasion of the estate society called for special measures. The propaganda on the national level was concentrated in the hands of a few confidantes of Archduke Joseph, who were both civilians and soldiers with or without official appointment. As in the Austrian part of the empire, in which military intendants were in service alongside every army,48 Hungarian intellectuals were also formally involved in the production of official propaganda as translators or authors.

Archduke Joseph’s work was supported by his office, to which a temporary military section was added during wartime, and he also had the help of a separate general staff of the insurrectio. The palatine managed, with the assistance of his office and that of Beckers, the production, translation, and dissemination of official and semi-official propaganda texts. Official and incoming non-official materials were also collected and assessed here.

Some longer semi-official pamphlets were prepared well in advance, shortly after the diet of 1808. These pamphlets were written by civilians and published anonymously in order to increase their persuasive effect. The archduke charged two literates whom he knew intimately with this task: Sándor Kisfaludy and Ferenc Verseghy. Kisfaludy, a wealthy landowning nobleman of Zala County and an army veteran and popular poet, was commissioned by Beckers at the end of 1808 to write a pamphlet to remind the Hungarian nobility of the value of their “obsolete privileges” without awaking animosity against the French. He finished the text some months later, and it was then blue penciled by his clients. This work was published in the spring of 1809, shortly before the outbreak of the war, in approximately 3,000 copies in Hungarian and a few hundred copies in German under the title Patriotic Appeal to the Hungarian Nobility. Verseghy, an ex-Pauline friar who had been discredited in the Hungarian Jacobin conspiracy in 1794–95, offered his services to the government and already worked for the Archduke as a Hungarian language teacher. He also took part in the translation of military manuals, and he translated the pamphlet (actually, a collection of documents) by Pedro Cevallos Guerra, the Spanish first secretary of state of Ferdinand VII from German (its preface was dated to March 20, 1809). It was a popular, internationally recognized anti-Napoleonic work which intended to shake confidence in the French emperor.

Others took part in the production of propaganda as translators of official texts. József Márton, professor of Hungarian at the University of Vienna, translated Gentz’s Manifest, which declared and legitimized officially the war as bellum iustum, as well as the general order of Archduke Charles, which was written by Friedrich Schlegel. Captain József Csohány, who served in the palatinal regiment, translated ex-officio several proclamations by an unknown author which were issued at the beginning of the war in the name of Archduke Joseph. During the spring of 1809, Csohány, Kisfaludy, and Count László Kolonics were appointed to serve as aides-de-camp of the palatine, and they joined his train and formed his “court” during the campaign. The propaganda was institutionalized on an additional level with the “instruction” of May 28, 1809, which established the duties of the adjutants. With this, Kisfaludy also formally became the central figure of the production of the official propaganda: he was responsible for the translation and publication of all proclamations, announcements, and general orders concerning the insurrectio.49

From February to December 1809, several short official printed products of propaganda were published in the name of the king and the palatine in great numbers which addressed the Hungarians, first and foremost the nobility and the members of the insurrectio. The German, Hungarian, and Latin newspapers also published them, which increased their availability. While some of the official Hungarian proclamations were printed in tens of thousands of copies (in Hungarian), they were only published in a few hundred or a few thousand copies in German. Some documents of legal weight (handwritten or printed copies), which were sent to the local authorities, were also of propagandistic value. The fact that Hungarian became the language of command and of official propaganda suited the broader efforts of Magyarization among some of the educated nobility, as well as of supportive intellectuals. It also fit well with the overall language distribution of the nobility, in which native speakers of Hungarian were the overwhelming majority. From the viewpoint of the longer process of the spread of cultural-linguistic nationalism, these measures could be seen as a moment when linguistic-ethnocultural elements were strengthened within the traditional, privilege-based collective identity of the nobility as an ethnically restrictive criterion. It bore, however, a significant potential to democratize the notion of nation by including culturally (and politically) the disenfranchised native masses and, in the long run, “Magyarizing” non-Hungarians.50

The official propaganda on the local and national levels was connected to the phases of war (mobilization, wartime, and demobilization), particularly to the laborious ritual of (de)mobilization of the insurrectio. First, the nobility was conscripted and then ordered to assemble for the first time by county authorities. Then, the assemblies elected the officers, and the arranged troops were mustered for the second time in their uniforms and equipment. This occasion was linked in most cases with the consecration of flags within a ceremonial civic-military ritual as a “rite of passage.” Soon after this, the troops were doing military exercises for a short time if all went well or they departed immediately for the battlefront if necessary. During demobilization in late 1809 – early 1810, the returning troops were received ceremonially in their home counties and then dismissed with a final muster as a farewell ritual.

Official military mobilization in Hungary began with the rescriptum of King Francis on nineteenth February 1809, which was connected to the tour of the young archdukes and urged the establishment of the insurrectio and recruitment and also requested more military aid and cavalry troops from the counties without the approval of the diet.51 On April 8, as Austrian emperor, Francis issued a proclamation to the Peoples of the Austrian Empire!. In this proclamation, he informed the entire population that he had left Vienna and traveled to see the troops, and he also thanked his subjects for responding to his call and showing their patriotism. The proclamation presented the idea of a just war (like Gentz’s Manifest), in which the ruler and his people (implicitly the Hungarians), united by mutual trust, were resisting the “conqueror” (i.e., Napoleon). It was intended not only to mobilize the combatants but also to motivate the population as a whole to act. On April 10, the king issued a rescriptum from Althan (near Vienna) to the “Hungarians” (i.e., the nobility and groups attached to it) which, referring to the Article II of 1808 and the emergency circumstances, officially announced the insurrectio and ordered its mobilization.52 This text was also propagandistic value beside its legal force.

On April 27, two proclamations were issued to the insurrectio through the palatine which fit into the course of general orders to certain military bodies. The shorter one referred generally to the “adverse events in Germany” and announced that the ruler had summoned the nobility to the western border of the country.53 The longer one provided more information about the battles fought by Archduke Charles between April 19 and 23, the casualties suffered by the K. u. K. army, and the withdrawal of the army to the other bank of Danube River on April 24.54 On May 16, in the name of Archduke Joseph, a longer proclamation was issued under the title Hungarians! which in word was addressed to all the inhabitants of the country but which was implicitly aimed first and foremost at the regnum or nation of the estates (nobility, burghers, etc.). It suited the series of official proclamations, which aimed at the inhabitants of certain provinces, territories inside and outside the Austrian Empire (to the “German nation,” to the Tyroleans, to the Italians, to the residents of Vienna, etc.). On April 29, the palatine sent his proclamations to the “Hungarian nation” and the “nobility of Hungary” to the Zensur- und Polizeihofstelle so that they could be included in German newspapers in order to demonstrate “how great the industry and desire of the Hungarian nation are to protect the Austrian Monarchy.”55

Kisfaludy started to formulate a counter-proclamation against Napoleon’s proclamation of Schönbrunn,56 which was issued on May 15, 1809 in two trilingual versions (in French–Latin–Hungarian and French–German–Hungarian) from Vienna, which had just been occupied.57 The French emperor offered independence and tried to persuade the noble body politic as “Hungarians” in a familiar manner to break off with the Habsburgs and summon a diet “on the Field of Rákos.” Nevertheless, Kisfaludy’s work was never finished, as authorities successfully hindered the spread of Napoleon’s proclamation, and it found no serious resonance, neither among the nobility nor among other groups. Only a handful of educated nobles and intellectuals (so-called “Hungarian Bonapartists”) became followers of Napoleon, for instance János Batsányi, a writer of non-noble birth who took part in the translation and proofreading of the Hungarian text of the Napoleonic proclamation, and Gergely Berzeviczy, a Hungarus Lutheran nobleman who wrote a shelved constitutional draft for the French emperor and later assessed the war and the situation of Hungary from a pro-French critical perspective.58

The official proclamations connected to the process of demobilization were written and/or translated by Kisfaludy after the Peace Treaty of Schönbrunn (October 14, 1809). Two short farewell speeches to the insurrectio were issued in the name of the king and the palatine on November 24 and December 18 (in Hungarian and German) which were printed in 34,000 and 36,000 copies in total in order to provide every member of the insurrectio with one copy. While the palatine’s speech was left almost unaltered, the original draft of the king’s general order was revised beyond recognition by state clerks, and this version was translated by Kisfaludy into Hungarian. The printing was managed by Kisfaludy, and the expenses were covered by the central fund of the insurrectio. On December 18, a longer handwritten Hungarian testimonial of the homecoming troops was also sent to the counties in the name of the palatine in translation by Kisfaludy. During the process of demobilization, an undated farewell speech was also written to the burghers of the free royal cities of Pest and Buda by Kisfaludy in a German and Hungarian version, but there is no evidence indicating that it was ever printed or sent.59

The Segmented View of the Estate Polity and the Dimensions of Patriotism

In general, the Hungarian propaganda of 1809 was structured around the existing legal categories and thus followed and mirrored the attitudes of the estates with regard to their legal status and their responsibilities with regard to the defense of the land. This effort to craft propaganda which addressed different segments of society was clear both in the general-purpose texts (which addressed a larger group) and in the particular texts (which addressed narrower segments of the population). From the overall viewpoint, within the limits of estate polity, the official propaganda tried to mobilize, involve and motivate to some extent as many people as it could (first and foremost the privileged) in the war efforts, while explicitly representing a hierarchical, segmented view of society. It indicated divergent duties based on legal grounds, i.e., different liberties and capabilities for various communities, and on the basis of financial (class) stratification, as well as of professions.

The general-purpose texts also respected this segmentation, but they tried to unite those addressed in a common endeavor. As the emperor’s proclamation to the Peoples of Austria! Stated, “Those who do not take up arms still participate in the defense of the country.” When addressing the “Hungarians,” the palatine’s proclamation translated the idea as a common project of the “Hungarian Nation,” by which it referred primarily to the privileged: “Glorious and sacred is the duty to shed blood for the country; besides, it is also necessary to make other sacrifices to help it.”60 This proclamation also emphasized that “in this challenging moment,” everyone could help the country without going beyond their duties. Thus, in an inclusive way, it drew the attention of all the estates as fellow “Hungarians” to “hold one another’s hands” and strive for a common goal as “true brothers.” According to this view, there were several respectable kinds of patriotic sacrifices, of which the personal military service performed by the nobility was of the greatest value, but other sacrifices were also valued, from pecuniary offers to certain public activities.

The Hungarian war propaganda was aimed above all at those communities which owed certain kinds of armed service: the burghers of the free royal and mining cities and their militias to a lesser extent and the nobility (and attached groups) and the insurrectio to a greater extent. The Hungarian regiments, the men of which consisted of common people, were involved in the imperial military propaganda and the means of popular recruitment.

In connection with this, three main levels of patriotism could be distinguished based on their territorial extent, though they were also segmented socially: imperial, national, and local-regional. From the perspective of the propaganda in general, these levels appeared with different emphasis and could be either complementary or competing. They each included two basic, parallel present aspects with different emphases. On the one hand, patriotism was cast as an active loyalty to the patria, focusing basically on a political-territorial entity that was more abstract than the notion of the native soil. The defense of more or less abstract entities was presented as a collective duty. On the other hand, the propaganda also contained references to narrower personal interests, such as the protection of household, family, and property. Thus, it also stressed individual concerns.

The new “imperial patriotism” was a kind of “state patriotism” with a predominantly German character. It referred to the empire as a whole as the common fatherland of all subjects of the Austrian emperor and was transmitted to Hungary by translations of general-purpose German texts. There were, however, very few in the texts that were written originally for the Hungarian public. The Hungarian “national patriotism,” which from an imperial perspective was seen as a parochial Landespatriotismus was given considerable emphasis in the governmental propaganda. There were different variants of this patriotism. In its all-pervasive form, as a “state patriotism,” it referred to the Kingdom of Hungary in its territorial-institutional sense as the “fatherland” and embraced every member of the population as a subject of the king. From the narrower perspective of the estates, it had a more exclusive layer which emphasized constitutional aspects from a segmented standpoint. In its most exclusive form, it applied to the nobility, which considered themselves the “nation” (natio or gens Hungarica), i.e., a free political community of common origin with distinctive ethnical features.

Local-regional versions of patriotism were developed on the basis of the highly autonomous territorial political-administrative units of certain communities as the essential space of their lifeworld, which was also the space in which mobilization was organized. In the case of the nobility, these versions of patriotism were connected to the counties, which embodied the local political community of nobleman, a narrower “fatherland” with territorial and institutional implications. Based on the general view on the estate polity, the patriotism of the counties was a subsidiary of a strong integrating “national patriotism” of noble character. The local patriotism of the predominantly ethnic-German “old burghers” of the free royal and mining cities (a patriotism which was generally attached to a particular city)61 and the local patriotism of the “free peasant” communities of the privileged Jászkun and Hajdú Districts proved more parochial in general. Nevertheless, the propaganda tried to involve with references to a broader imperial, as well as a Hungarian patriotism in the etatist sense. A further version was potentially also available, the emerging German-national patriotism, represented by Archduke Charles’ appeal To the German Nation, written by Schlegel, but this tendency was not strong enough to exert much of an influence on the ethnically German burghers and intellectuals of the kingdom.62

The “Noble Warrior” as the Hegemonic Image of “Patriotic-Valorous Masculinity”

According to the three main means of defense, three different and relational ideal images of “valorous masculinity” were in circulation in the era.63 They could be referred to as the “Hungarian hussar,” the “armed burgher,” and the “noble warrior.” The first term referred to generals, officers, and men who served in the hussar regiments as part of an elite “national branch” of the K. u. K. army. The second connected to the members of burgher guards. The last, in line with the personal military service of the members of the political community, was considered a true “national” type, which embodied the hegemonic ideal of superior moral quality in comparison with which the others counted as auxiliary or subordinate. While the first category involved (and indicated) a degree of professionalism, the latter two could be interpreted as particular kinds of “citizen-soldiers” of the estate polity on the basis of the legal grounds on which they were founded and the ways in which they were characterized in the propaganda. Essentially, the last two ideals embodied a particular civic and martial ethos. To these images belonged a segmented set of values, as well as different types of patriotism. In the discussion below, I consider only the last one, the “noble warrior” exhaustively.

From a general viewpoint, based on the idea of Anthony D. Smith, the Magyar nobility could be treated as a dominant “lateral ethnie,” i.e., an aristocratic ethnic community which formed the dominant “ethnic core” of the state. It proved able in the long run “to regulate and disseminate” its “fund of values, symbols, myths, traditions and memories that formed the cultural heritage” and “to define a new and broader cultural identity for the population.”64 The modern Hungarian nation was developed around the ethnically Magyar nobility during the long nineteenth century through the expansion (and extension) of its culture and rights to the masses, including those of different ethnicities.65 As Smith points out, war functioned “as a mobilizer of ethnic sentiments and national consciousness, a centralizing force in the life of the community and a provider of myths and memories for future generations.”66 The “warfare and a warrior ethos” traditionally played a central role in the Hungarian case,67 where the nobility had an exclusive, predominantly martial self-image which profoundly influenced its collective identity. To reconstruct the warrior ethos and ideal image connected to the insurrectio within the broader patriotic-national collective identity patterns of the nobility, three (in most cases closely intertwined) linguistic patterns could be distinguished: “ancient constitutionalism,” “noble nationalism,” and “classical republicanism.”68

Ancient constitutionalism formed a substratum of political debates in late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. By reading Montesquieu, the noble elites discovered “that they possessed a ‘constitution’ rather than just a collection of customary rights sanctified by immemorial tradition.” This constitution meant the “fundamental rules of the social and political order,”69 and it was treated as a heritage of the ancestors, which had to be handed down unscathed to the future generations. In this idiom, the regnum or nation meant the estates (above all the nobility) and the existence of the constitution was identified with the existence of the country.70 From 1790 onwards, it also referred to “a symmetrically linked and mutually recognized set of rights and duties” between the crown/king and the country/nation.71 Noble nationalism had appeared in the seventeenth century and referred to the “idealized noble values.”72 Its core idea was the norm of “true Hungarian-ness,”73 which consisted of the notions of “martial virtue,” the “true blood,” and the ideal national costume. Sometimes, it also referred to language usage and national consciousness, a component which was began emerging with increasing prominence in the late eighteenth century. It presented an idealized, normative past: the ancient times of better “old Hungarians,” a set of exemplary political and military leaders, as well as the desired idea of a national monarch (generally the rule of Matthias Corvinus). A certain variant of classical republicanism was universal due to the Latin-centered secondary education. This political idiom passed on the ideas and traditions associated with a collection of illustrious men and historical events and also provided a norm of vita activa as a certain way of life, a set of civic values (liberty, the common good, virtues, the notion of “love of the country,” etc.), and a particular view of history and politics which could be easily adapted to the lifeworld of the nobility. Apparently, in the propaganda of insurrectiones, the elements connected to the military issues of these three political languages came into the limelight. These shaped a coherent warrior ethos and image of the nobility.74

To reconstruct the ideal image of the “noble warrior” in the propaganda of 1809, we must pay particular attention to Kisfaludy’s Patriotic Appeal, since it was the most detailed exposition of the patriotic-national ideology of the mobilizational period of the insurrectio, which was approved by the palatine. It was written earlier than any products of the official Hungarian propaganda. This pamphlet offered a strict interpretation of the “norm of estates” following the spirit of the articles of 1808, and it represented an exclusive, aristocratic viewpoint of the wealthy landowning nobility. Nevertheless, this exclusive view was not totally closed, as Kisfaludy referred to the capacity of non-noble “Hungarians” to earn nobility through acts of valor and bravery (though he only did it once) and he also called on the noblemen to reinforce their inherited titles through such acts.

The pamphlet used a complex argument to bolster the necessity of personal military service and to awaken feelings of patriotism. This argument consisted of a popular national historical narrative written in the vernacular and legal-constitutional and moral elements. The text drew heavily on established political idioms and notions, but it also smuggled in some forward-looking ideas concerning cultural and institutional nation-building, and it made adaptive reflections on the military successfulness of the French. Kisfaludy praised the exclusive character of the personal insurrectio, and he presented all other forms of military service as morally inferior to it. Compared to the fair copy of the text, the printed versions were bowdlerized, and most of those paragraphs which either referred to the French model and Napoleon’s genius or presented the superior moral qualities of the nobility in an exaggerated and even offensive way proved sensitive enough to be blue penciled by the clients.75

Regarding the substance of ancient constitutionalism, the Appeal gave a precise definition: “The country, the king, and the constitution were inseparably one: one has to keep, embrace, protect the other in order that the spirit of both, the constitution, persist.” Kisfaludy demonstrated that the Hungarian nobility enjoyed an unparalleled status “in the known world” due to their “golden liberty,” which was made possible by the constitution: “Per capita we can say the Hungarian noble is like a petty king; the lawful, crowned Hungarian king on the other hand may be considered the most distinguished of all rulers, as he may justly be seen as the king and ruler of thousands upon thousands of kings.”76 In exchange for this status (of petty king), the members of the Hungarian nobility owed more than any others to their country and king and had to do personal military service. Thus, Kisfaludy proposed a norm of reflected patriotism of a constitutional character for the nobility (which mixed emotional and rational elements), as well as of pro patria mori when he glorified the heroism exemplified by Miklós IV. Zrínyi at his last stand in the battle of Szigetvár, alongside the Classical ideals.

The pamphlet emphasized the ancient warrior origins of the Hungarian nation, and presented it as a “grand, noble, free” one. Kisfaludy also stressed that the “genius” of Hungarians had a tendency for agriculture, rather than for commerce and he praised the agrarian way of life based on a maxim of Cicero.77 However, he pointed out that the Hungarians had to be valorous first to protect and maintain their constitution, which made it possible for them to farm and trade freely.78 He did not deny the emerging significance of commerce, or of politeness, but he warned his contemporaries against its dangers and cautioned them to take measures to prevent the spread of effeminacy and maintain the native martial fitness and valorous character of the noblemen to fight. By supporting government’s efforts to increase the number of people serving in the cavalry, he offered an argument based on references to historical and contemporary tactics and the innate Hungarian equestrian national character. However, as a veteran, Kisfaludy called for more modern means of advancing traditional Hungarian military culture. For instance, he welcomed the article on the establishment of the Ludovica Military Academy (1808), and he called attention to the necessity of the establishment of a genuine national military science, based on the military history of Hungary.79

Kisfaludy argued in support of the importance of the maintenance of the military duties of the nobility in a lengthy, non-linear historical narrative which presented the national history as a kind of military history of the political community’s own. In this aristocratic view of the past, warfare in general and particularly the insurrectio bore the utmost importance, and glory and decline were bound together with the public morals and martial character of the community. This narrative was divided into eight exemplary periods: four were qualified as glorious, four as declining. In connection with these periods, he enumerated memorable people and events.80 Concerning the glorious periods, the “Golden Age” of Hungary (both from the military and the broader political and cultural perspective) was the rule of Matthias Corvinus (1458–1490) as the idealized historical embodiment of the “national monarch.” Kisfaludy also presented a set of exemplary Hungarian statesmen and military leaders with “Hungarian virtue.” These statesmen and military leaders could be compared, according to Kisfaludy, with the great figures of the classical antiquity and the leaders of early modern times. Kisfaludy also referred to the myth of the offer of 1741, which was presented as a crucial experience of the “House of Austria” concerning “what a precious treasure the nobility was for the Hungarian king.”

The Patriotic Appeal not only created a powerful image of the “noble warrior,” but also tried to make this image more up to date on the one hand, and overly exclusive on the other. The bowdlerized parts modified this image in two ways. First, the original manuscripts compared the modern French revolutionary and Napoleonic army to the insurrectio, and in connection with this, they emphasized the significance of “enthusiasm” in military issues. Second, these texts distanced the noble levy both from the standing army and the military service performed by the common people in the insurrectio, which was a usual practice, particularly before 1809.

Kisfaludy interpreted the contemporary French case based on the analogy of the traditional Hungarian one, and he held it up as a model for the nobility of his time:

The French people is a vivid example of the efficiency of national enthusiasm, all sorts of members of which became soldiers in the revolution to protect themselves and theirs, and which could not been overcome by any of the allied powers of Europe. The whole French Army was no more than a national insurrectio, which became hardened from effeminacy in a short time, so much that each [of them] thought of themselves as Alexander the Great conquering the world.81

Kisfaludy was one of the few people in Hungary who explicitly interpreted the concept of “enthusiasm” in its new, positive meaning, which emerged due to the French revolutionary wars and spread through cultural transfers.82 By doing so, he also adapted implicitly the idea of the “citizen-soldier” and the citizen-soldier’s capacity for “enthusiasm” to the massive personal military service of the nobility, within the limits of the estate polity.

The original manuscripts of the pamphlet contained derogatory depictions of the soldiers of the standing army as mercenaries who served “in most cases either by necessity or by constraint for honor and soldier’s pay.” Thus, they looked “naturally at the defense of the country more cold-bloodedly.” In contrast, the nobility in the personal insurrectio fought pro aris et focis for their king, country, and constitution and also for their liberties, households, and property. Because of its patriotic motivations, the latter was qualified as morally superior and more suitable for national defense. Thus, in the Hungarian case, Kisfaludy reserved the capacity for patriotic-national “enthusiasm” for the nobility.

Even in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the popular ideal of the nobility was manifested actively in the norm of a martial patriotism with the virtus as its core value (which meant valor or bravery in this context),83 which could find form periodically in temporary military service in the insurrectio, ideally in person. Although, the importance of knowledge and reason as elements of patriotism was discussed for a long time84 and some people recognized the inevitable change of manners with the advent of the age of commerce (which also reshaped the character of wars),85 these views remained subordinate in the political discourse. From a wider historical perspective, the strong relationship between arms-bearing and membership in the community could make it possible to enlarge the concept of the nation and patria periodically (as had happened during the Ottoman wars and the Bocskai uprising).86 However, in the age of the French wars and particularly in 1808–09, due to its actual political value as the guarantee of the privileged status of the nobility, the duty to do ad hoc military service in defense of the country in the insurrectio, at least as a fiction of a “blood tax,” was appropriated by the nobility. Parallelly, the martial virtue and the ability to be moved by patriotic-national motives were also monopolized, with the support of a strict interpretation of the “norm of estates” according to which the noble body politic had an exclusive claim to superior moral qualities. While this notion became increasingly obsolete because of its exclusivity, the nobility and the intellectuals who supported it (as well as the palatine) tried to maintain it with lesser alterations through the propaganda to mobilize.

During the war, this exclusive ideology, which was based on solid institutional grounds, was stretched only to a certain extent in the state of emergency. In the summer of 1809, in need of manpower, the king ordered the counties to give tens of thousands more recruits to the regular army and to recruit voluntary divisions. The latter embodied a new form of temporary military service, a selective voluntary militia, which was open to anyone regardless of social-legal status. The recruitment of people into these voluntary militias was implemented by the county authorities, who used circulars that were transmitted by local opinion leaders (officials and members of the lower clergy). These circulars offered various material incentives (the promise of military decorations, money, exemption from regular military service, etc.) and also extended the social scope of the noble ideology vertically, without any significant changes, to enlarge temporarily the notions of patria and nation.

Official Proclamations to the Insurrectio

The proclamations, which were issued in the name of Archduke Joseph, basically appealed to a “constitutional patriotism” with their references to the political-institutional and territorial aspects of the country, as well as using an intensifying rhetoric of “noble nationalism.” The Hungarian official propaganda on the insurrectio during the mobilization before and in the beginning of war was intended basically to make the nobility aware of the unique value of their privileged status and their “ancient constitution” and their specific military duties. The hope was that this would render the military force they provided more effective. After the declaration of war, the propaganda also aimed to demonstrate that the military situation made necessary the deployment of the insurrectio according to the law. According to the imperial propaganda, the war was not only just, but it was also preemptive to secure the peace, given the tendencies towards the liberation of ex-Habsburg territories and Europe under Napoleonic rule. Concerning Hungary, as the insurrectio had been defined as a means of national defense in the related article and in the official propaganda, the war was understood in a narrower sense as a patriotic, defensive struggle on native soil.

The official rhetoric of national patriotism marked the main duties of the nobility according to the articles of 1808. In agreement with the printed rescriptum of Francis I from February 1809, which formulated this idea in the moderate legal register, the nobles had to mobilize themselves “for the defense of their king, country, and ancient constitution.” As Francis I pointed out on April 10, 1809, the nobility also had to fight for the defense of the “independence of the country.” The palatine used a more emotional tone and more current phrasing in his proclamations of April 27. The shorter one declared the state of exception and ordered the troops to the borders with reference to the “adverse events” in Germany, claiming that the enemy was threatening the “independence of the nation.” To stress the necessity, this proclamation combined the popular phrase of La Patrie en danger (originating from the French revolutionary language) with the imperative of pro patria mori: “The fatherland is in danger! If we cannot save it from the peril, we would rather die!” The proclamation openly admitted that the troops were insufficiently trained and equipped, but it emphasized that these obstacles had to be overcome by the “warrior soul” and “loyalty to the king.”

The longer proclamation captured essentially the same message with slightly different rhetorical means. It praised noble Hungarians as a “generous, valorous nation” which could again prove its allegiance to the “king” and “beloved fatherland” through its great deeds, and thus it could thwart the “pernicious purpose of our sworn enemy.” This proclamation drew on a popular historical myth according to which the valor of the nobility, which was allegedly known worldwide, had preserved the dynasty and the liberty of the nobility itself. It alluded implicitly to the offer of the insurrectio at the diet 1741 to Maria Theresa during the War of Austrian Succession. This narrower, national view of patriotism was expanded in the palatine’s letter, with which he sent his proclamations to the Viennese authorities. With this letter, the palatine tried to demonstrate that the “enthusiasm” of the nation and the nobility’s military morale was appropriate, and they wanted to sacrifice “their life and blood” for the preservation of the “Austrian Monarchy” in its entirety.87

On the occasion of the dissolution of the troops, the Palatine commissioned Kisfaludy well in advance to write a farewell speech in his name and a general order in the king’s name to be printed and distributed to each member of the insurrectio. The former was printed without serious modifications, while the fair copy of the latter was totally altered. These prints became the most popular of all because of their great number of copies, which were distributed at the ceremonies which were held when the forces were dissolved. The palatine’s letter of December 18, which was handwritten in Hungarian was also outstandingly valuable as a piece of propaganda, was received with a warm welcome by the counties. It was read aloud solemnly in the general assemblies, recorded into the protocols, and in some cases, was even printed and spread locally at the expense of the counties.

The palatine’s printed valediction constituted a community between the archduke as commander-in-chief and the insurrectio.88 According to this appeal, the insurrectio in general had been turned into “an army of heroes,” and its members had become “warriors” through their display of virtue during the war. However, this potential could be realized only by a narrower circle in battle due to the circumstances. With this, the palatine personally confirmed that some people had committed patriotic military deeds for the fatherland, and he also formulized the idea of a national political cult of the heroic dead89 who died for the “beloved fatherland” and “ancient golden liberty.” He promised them glory and a place in the “annals of the fatherland,” i.e., the collective memory of the nation. The members of the insurrectio were ensured that they became worthy of the legacy of the “heroic forefathers.” The palatine also guaranteed his, the king’s and the country’s satisfaction and respect. In the end, the archduke let them return to their counties, noting his expectation that they would be at the ready in the future were “the fatherland and the constitution to be endangered.”

The printed version of the general order, written in the name of the king, To the Hungarian Noble Insurgent Troops was formulated in a less personal and more moderate tone, though it emphasized almost the same points.90 It called upon the members of the insurrectio to preserve “national vigor” and ensure the survival of the military qualities of the nobility to deter the enemy and protect fellow citizens. However, this general order referred only to the nobility’s military duties to the king and the fatherland and contained no reference to their ancient constitution and liberty. It also failed to make any mention of the heroic deeds of the noblemen or the sacrifices of the soldiers who had fallen.

Both farewell speeches worded in the abstract, like the official proclamations which had been issued at the beginning of the war. In contrast, the palatine’s handwritten letter in Hungarian to the counties, which encouraged them to welcome the insurrectio, detailed the same topics in a more specific manner and with reference to concrete events. It aimed also at the maintenance of the morale and combat capability of the homecoming troops by peculiar means. On the one hand, it called on the counties to take measures to let the poorer members of the nobility keep the horses that had been purchased at public expense. On the other, it stipulated that the uniforms should be kept by the soldiers who had worn them not only for practical purposes, but also as a symbolic gesture that would strengthen, it was hoped, the sense of national character by promoting the national costume and also to stem interest in luxuries.

Demobilization and the Patriotic-National Cult of Heroes and Fallen Soldiers

The official propaganda of the demobilization was organized on a national and local (county) level, which strengthened each other. The intensity of local propaganda depended on how deeply certain units had been involved in the fighting, i.e., their losses and combat actions.91

The Battle of Győr on June 14, 1809 was the most remarkable engagement in the theater of war. The French victory proved devastating neither for Austria in general nor for the insurrectio. However, in the long run, the flight and disintegration of some unexperienced units still became a powerful symbol of the unsuitability of the nobility for their traditional role. This historical myth of defeat was exploited politically by aulic circles who sought to condemn the nobility and popularized decades later from a democratic nationalist viewpoint by the revolutionary poet Sándor Petőfi in his In the name of the people. It referred in a sarcastic manner to those “many legs, which ran there [at Győr].” The myth started to take shape immediately after the battle, partly as mere as rumors that were circulating and partly because of the indignant response of King Francis and Archduke John, who blamed the insurrectio for the defeat.

The king’s opinion, of which he made a public demonstration, soon changed, and the official and unofficial propaganda during the demobilization presented a generally positive image of the performance of the inssurrectio. The war was a serious defeat for the Austrian Empire, and the Kingdom of Hungary also lost some Croatian territories. Despite this, the propaganda in general emphasized that by thanks to the insurrectio, the nation had successfully performed its duties: the troops had been fit for action, even if they had not been able to show their skills because of the immediate peace. The propaganda also tried to build a cult around war heroes and the fallen on the national and local levels, an effort which harmonized with tendencies of nationalization and ideologization of wars across Europe at the time. In contrast to the abstract rhetoric of the official proclamations, the local products of the propaganda contained wording that was more concrete.

For having successfully completed military acts that could be confirmed, officers could earn the Military Order of Maria Theresa,92 and NCOs and common soldiers could be decorated with the Silver and Gold Medals for Bravery (Tapferkeitsmedaille).93 The Military Order of Maria Theresa originally intended to shape a class of “military nobility”, while the Medal for Bravery took an important step towards the “democratization” of recognition of military merits in general. During the war of 1809, these awards became potentially also available for those who served in militia-type units, like the Landwehr and the insurrectio. The promise of military awards was used by the propaganda machinery as a significant incentive, especially in efforts to attract voluntary recruits. During the war of 1809, a few hundred men in the insurrectio performed military deeds that were confirmed, and of them, more than 20 were awarded silver medals, and some officers applied for and were given the Military Order of Maria Theresa. The feats of arms and the rewards that were given were itemized as an appendix to the lengthy report for the king in the name of the palatine on the performance of the insurrectio, which was also written by Kisfaludy. The whole work remained in manuscript form, but some parts of the appendix were published in newspapers, and this contributed to the emergence of a short-lived cult of heroes and fallen soldiers, even on the imperial level.94

On the local level, the war heroes were also given awards by the counties in the form of various material benefits and symbolic gestures. Sometimes, these awards bore the promise of gradual social mobility within the estate society: veteran officers of the landowning wealthy gentry often applied for and were elected or appointed to serve in official positions. Others could rise through symbolic inclusion in the local society, and the war even offered opportunities to cross the legal “dividing line” for non-nobles (or dubious nobles) who took part voluntarily in the insurrectio. The local “political cult of the dead” and a rudimentary social and veteran aftercare were also developed to various extent, depending on the casualties suffered by a given county. To compensate the families of the fallen and those who had been wounded on the battlefield, fundraising campaigns were started at the general assemblies to get donations from the wealthy members of the local elites.95

Some uncommon initiatives launched by the local authorities offered examples of more state-of-the-art means of establishing a local collective memory and a patriotic-national cult of heroes and the fallen, for instance the efforts of Zemplén County to erect a monument to a handful of their honored war dead and heroes, shortly after the Battle of Győr. Kazinczy and his friend Count József Dessewffy drafted plans for a neoclassical monument (more specifically, a column) based on a contemporary French pattern. They originally planned to use Hungarian inscriptions, but the supremus comes insisted on Latin. In the end, the texts on the monument were in Latin and Hungarian. Kazinczy and Dessewffy used the network they had established through their correspondence and also a pamphlet to popularize the idea all over the country. The monument was only erected in 1821 in a radically modified form, and was unveiled as part of a ceremony on the main square of Sátoraljaújhely.96 Other counties did not imitate this initiative, and as collective memories of the War of the Fifth Coalition began to fade, the monument also lost its significance.

Conclusion

The insurrectio of 1809 was the last attempt to set the nobility in motion to perform military duty within the old defense system of the estates, even if it became modernized to a certain extent. The martial patriotic-national ideology of the estates also found general expression for the last time in the propaganda of the moment. This propaganda played a considerable role in the mobilization, since members of the nobility, as members of the body politic, were involved in it. These noblemen could be regarded as a kind of “citizen soldier” of the estate polity, who had to be persuaded of the legitimacy of the cause of mobilization and war and also adequately motivated in order compensate for shortcomings in training, equipment, and professional esprit de corps. In the end, the relative contemporary significance and the long-term irrelevance of the insurrectio of 1809 and its propaganda have to be considered.

Regarding the contemporary significance of the insurrectio, from an institutional perspective, despite its archaic character and social limits, it addressed a central problem of the epoch, at least to a certain extent. As social historian Károly Vörös has pointed out, while the French wars demanded the mobilization of vast swathes of the population, it proved impossible to keep these forces armed within the standing armies for a long time because of the enormous economic burdens. There were several ways to solve this problem, for instance by reforming the standing army or by introducing a kind of temporary militia, as was done in the French, Austrian, and later Prussian cases. In Hungary, certain elements (the insurrectio and the burgher guards) of the old but moderately reformed corporative system of defense were presented as solutions to this dilemma, despite their numerous shortcomings.97 From a political viewpoint, the Hungarian mobilization of 1809 contributed to the formation of a patriotic-national political language of the vernacular and also strengthened the cohesive tendencies within the noble body politic. Moreover, the military endeavor of the nobility proved that the country and, particularly, the counties were still able to provide thousands of “citizen soldiers” in a short time on old constitutional grounds, without a standardized-centralized public administration and absolutistic government, even in the age of mass warfare.

The reasons for the irrelevance, in the long-term, of the insurrectio are manifold. Even for the contemporaries in general, the war turned out to be too short, and the number of casualties was too low and disproportionate to foster the emergence of a patriotic-national cult of heroes and fallen soldiers. Despite propaganda efforts, the commemorative practices were not institutionalized on an imperial or national level, and they were only scarcely institutionalized on the local level. The fact that the counties were exempted from yearly military exercises in early 1810 made it even more difficult to introduce institutionalized commemorative practices. There was also no coherent national historical narrative of the events. Kisfaludy’s work, which should have provided such a narrative, was shelved for a long time. The war of 1809 and the insurrectio are both absent from modern national memory, apart from Petőfi’s canonical poem from 1847, which passed a withering judgement on the traditional martial ethos of the nobility. Because the general ideological mobilization was based on the old corporative system and values and attached to the privileged status of the nobility, the memory of this anachronistic defense institution did not fit into the emerging nation-building and modernization efforts of the Reform Era and the second half of the nineteenth century. Nevertheless, the cult of the insurrectio survived in the collective memory of former participants and noble families for a while.

The old corporative system of defense and its core institutions faded legally only as a result of the constitutional revolution. The increasingly nationalized and democratized idea of the “citizen soldier” found its way into two different institutions. According to the April Laws of 1848 (Article XXII), the nemzetőrség was created as a kind of militia in which compulsory military service was based on a class criterion (based on property or income) and general moral quality. Shortly thereafter, a regular honvéd army was also called into existence in response to the exigencies of the moment. This force was essentially a regular army.98 These two forces proved able to tie “masses of ordinary Hungarians to the nobility-based nation” during the Revolution and War of Independence of 1848–1849.99

Archival Sources

Magyar Nemzeti Levéltár Országos Levéltára [Hungarian National Archive, State Archive] (MNL OL)

N 25 III. Regnicolaris Levéltár [The Archives of the Country], Militär-Kanzlei des Palatin E. H. Joseph III. 1808–1814–(1836)

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One of the typical social consequences of the introduction of compulsory conscription and mass politics in nineteenth century Europe was the emergence of veterans organizations. This study examines the veterans’ movement in the territory of the Kingdom of Hungary between 1867 and 1914. While in Europe and Imperial Austria the widespread military veterans’ organizations were important actors in the relationship between the military and the civilian sphere and also in state policy, in Hungary their spread remained limited. However, their operation, specific ideology and also their reception in local society can provide important lessons about the impact of the military on society, and the forms and workings of loyalty and nationalism in Hungary.

The study consists of two main parts. First, it examines the prevalence and main characteristics of the associations: where and when were they founded, for what purpose were they established, how the state treated them, what social groups did them consist of, and finally how did all this relate to the other half of the empire? The second part of the study presents the activities of veterans’ associations in Hungarian society by drawing on the example of town of Szombathely and Vas County in western Transdanubia. It analyses what activities did they perform in everyday life, what ideologies did they follow, how did they get involved in the life of the local society, and what was their reception in local civil society and administration?
Keywords: Austria-Hungary, Hungary, military veterans’ association, militarism, civil-military relation, veterans

The national perspective has long dominated research on the history of the Habsburg Monarchy. Over the course of the past two decades, however, the “the new imperial history”1 of the Habsburg Monarchy and the concept of “national indifference”2 have shifted attention to transnational approaches, imperial policy, and multi-ethnic frameworks, pointing to the phenomena of national indifference, multilingualism, multiple identities, imperial patriotism, and dynastic loyalties.3 These theories have significantly altered the image of the Habsburg Monarchy, making it clear that the concepts of multinational empire and nation were compatible rather than competing categories and also highlighting the limits of national mobilization and the importance of dynastic loyalty (though without forgetting or ignoring the limits of this loyalty). Research, however, has focused primarily on the western half of the Monarchy, and with the exception of a few scattered research endeavors, Hungary’s place in this narrative remains largely unclear.4

The Imperial and Royal Army was one of the most important institutional pillars of dynastic loyalty and patriotism. In recent decades, historical research in a number of European countries has shown that armies based on the general conscription and military symbols and traditions played a decisive role in building national identity, mobilizing the population for national purposes, and thus militarizing society at the turn of the century.5 One of the most important areas in which civil society and military society intersected were the military veterans’ organizations, which in parallel with the emergence of mass politics became a hotbed of militarism. The Kyffhäuserband (an umbrella organization of veterans), for example, with its 2.8 million members, had become one of the largest societies in Germany by 1913. These associations had a strong nationalistic, authoritarian and militaristic character, which was also propagated in the wider society.6

Similar trends were underway in the Habsburg Monarchy, but of course in a different social, historical, and political context. Although general conscription was introduced in 1868, the Habsburg Army was organized around a supranational ideology which was unique in Europe. The cornerstones of this ideology were loyalty to the emperor and the common fatherland and the equality of nationalities and religions. Since there was no dominant nation in the Monarchy, the army did not symbolize the “nation in arms,” but rather was an embodiment of the community of the peoples of the empire as a whole. The army, too, was not a “school of the nation,” but a “school of the peoples.”7

The military culture developed by the army had an impact on wider society. In his work on military culture and the veterans’ movement which emerged in the 1870s , Laurence Cole draws (at least) two important conclusions. He argues that “a process of societal militarization took place in imperial Austria during the second half of the nineteenth century, much as occurred in other European countries,” and “a considerable reservoir of dynastic loyalty and ‘pro-Austrian’ sentiment existed across the multinational state.”8 Of course, veterans were influenced by nationalism (in Bohemia more than anywhere else), but this did not affect their patriotism. Rather, it merely changed the language they used to express it. In Austria, however, military culture also contributed to the polarization of society as opposition emerged to the militarism and “certain circles of society rejected involvement in activities associated with or symbolized by military veterans.” Thus, Cole agrees with István Deák’s assessment, according to which the society of Habsburg Monarchy was divided not only nationally but also ideologically and socially.9

Cole’s work does not deal with the case of Hungary, and his hesitancy to do so suggests that the distinctive position of the country should be the subject of separate study.10 With the Austro-Hungarian Compromise in 1867, Hungary, which had always occupied a special place in the Habsburg Monarchy, gained full internal autonomy with the exception of foreign affairs, military matters, and certain economic questions. Multilingual and multi-religious but governed by the Hungarian liberal elite, Hungary (in contrast with Imperial Austria) defined and organized itself as a nation state in which the dominance of Hungarian nationalism prevailed, while the nationality movements were ever more restricted.11 For this reason, the lack of a national army was the Achilles-heel of Hungarian politics, and the ideology on which the Imperial and Royal Army’s claim to legitimacy was founded was a constant target of Hungarian nationalists, even if the relationship between the army and Hungarian society had become harmonic and close in everyday life by the turn of the century.12 Another significant and, from the perspective of the development of military veterans’ associations (MVAs), important difference was the absence in Hungary of any modern mass politic. While the gradual extension of the right to vote in Austria eventually led to the introduction of universal and equal suffrage for all men in 1907, in Hungary, only a narrow section of society was able to take an active part in politics throughout the whole period.13

In this essay, I investigate the MVAs14 in the Kingdom of Hungary, not including Croatia-Slavonia. While in Europe and Imperial Austria the widespread MVAs were important actors in the relationship between the military and the civilian sphere and also in state policy, in Hungary, their memberships remained low, and they were established mainly in German-speaking territories and larger towns. For this reason, they attracted less interest from the state. However, their spread, operation, and specific ideology and also their reception in local society can provide important lessons not only about the impact of the military on society, but also about the forms and workings of loyalty and nationalism in Hungary.

The paper divided into two main parts. In the first, I discuss the prevalence and general characteristics of MVAs in the country and the relationship of the state to these associations. I also consider how the circumstances of these associations compare to the circumstances of similar associations in the other half of the Monarchy. In the second section, I shift perspective and, drawing on the example of Vas County in western Hungary, I examine the MVAs activities, the ideology represented by their members, and the reception of these associations in local civil society. As the MVAs in Hungary were mainly concentrated in the larger towns and in areas inhabited with German-speaking15 populations (first and foremost in the western Transdanubian region), Vas County offers an ideal case on the basis of which some general conclusions can be drawn.

Finally, it must be emphasized that the present study is about the veterans’ associations founded by the members of the Imperial and Royal Army and the Royal Hungarian Honvéd Army (königlich-ungarische Landwehr), which was established with the army reform of 1868. I do not intend to deal with the Hungarian Honvéd Associations founded by the veterans of the Hungarian War of Independence of 1848–49 and made the subject of a fairly sizeable amount of the secondary literature.

Military Veterans’ Associations in the Kingdom of Hungary

The first MVA to function as an association in the modern sense of the word in the Habsburg Monarchy was founded in Reichenberg in Bohemia (today Liberec, Czech Republic) in 1821. Similar associations began to appear more and more frequently in the second half of the century, in parallel with the introduction of general conscription in 1868 and the granting of the right to freedom of association under the Fundamental Laws of 1867. By the turn of the century, the MVAs had become one of the most numerous types of civil association in Imperial Austria.16 In his work, Cole makes note of at least 2,800 MVAs before World War I, but he estimates their real number to be at least 10 to 20 percent higher. We know even less about the actual number of members of these associations, but it probably ran into the hundreds of thousands. 98 percent of the associations were founded in Bohemia, Moravia, Silesia, and the Hereditary Lands, while only a few dozen were established in Galicia, Bukovina, and Dalmatia, which had a lower standard of living and had been integrated into the Monarchy and its military system only towards the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth.17

Compared to its western neighbor, in Hungary, the MVAs spread at a much slower pace and only to a limited, geographically relatively well-delimited extent. The MVAs began to appear in the 1870s, after the Austro-Hungarian Compromise, when the right of association and assembly became free.18 Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to estimate the number of MVAs in Hungary. During the Dualist era only a single census of associations was held (in 1878), according to which there were only 13 MVAs with a total of about 3,000 members.19 In addition, a survey prepared by the Ministry of Interior for the Ministry of Defense during the preparatory work for the Law of Népfelkelés (Landsturm) in 188320 listed some 21 associations.21 Although it is certainly possible that the figures given in the two sources are unreliable or imprecise, these numbers are still strikingly low, as at least 883 such associations had already been established in Imperial Austria.22

Since there are no available census data for the later period, I tried to find another way to determine how many MVAs had been formed in Hungary by the outbreak of World War I. In addition to the two sources mentioned above, I used the statutes approval published in the official gazettes (Budapesti Közlöny and Belügyi Közlöny)23 and the association database of the National Archives.24 According to the sources, the first MVA in Hungary was founded in Királyfalva (today Königsdorf, Austria) in Vas County in 1874, followed by about 100 more over the course of the next 40 years. Of course, this does not mean that there were exactly that many MVAs in the country at the outbreak of war. In Budapest, for example, ten MVAs were founded in the 1870s and 1880s, but by the turn of the century, their number had fallen to five, primarily because some of them had merged together.25 There were similar mergers elsewhere. The Pécs MVA, founded in 1875, was merged into the Baranya County MVA in 1906.26 Of course, there may also have been several associations which were disbanded without legal succession. Nevertheless, the operation of associations was generally quite stable. In Vas County, for example, a total of 17 associations were formed during the period, they were all still in operation at the outbreak of World War I.27 Similarly, of the five associations established in Baranya County, all but the abovementioned Pécs MVA survived until the war.28

The MVAs in Hungary were established in two distinct periods. The first period was in the second half of the 1870s and the first half of the 1880s, when the MVAs were formed primarily in towns and to lesser extent in some villages in western Transdanubia. The second period was from the turn of the century until World War I, when MVAs were formed mainly in larger villages in western Transdanubia and only to a lesser extent in the towns. An important difference between the two periods is that in the 1870s and 1880s, the associations were formed primarily by war veterans, while after the turn of the century, they were formed by veterans of the peacetime army.

Compared to Austria or Germany, politics played no or only a negligible role in the spread of MVAs. Not surprisingly given their small number, their social impact remained largely local, and one cannot speak about a general veterans’ movement throughout the country. The Hungarian state thus understandably paid little attention to the MVAs. The Austrian state, in contrast, began encouraging the spread of MVAs in the 1890s as an important institution of patriotism, and it also played an active role in creating a common federation (thereby also trying to increase the state control over the associations). The success of MVAs meant pressure from below, and this played an important part in obliging the state to react.29 Thing unfolded very differently in Hungary, however. The MVAs, of which there were comparatively few, did not really arouse the interest of the state, neither in a positive nor in a negative sense. The state did nothing to hinder the spread of MVAs, nor did it do anything to help them. It essentially remained indifferent to them throughout the whole period. The biggest problem the associations faced was caused by their uniforms. The MVAs tried to make themselves as similar as possible to the army through their flags, uniforms, and side weapons (in contrast to Austria, where side weapons were forbidden). However, the use of uniforms which closely resembled the uniforms actually in use by the army was expressly forbidden by the military. In 1884, the Minister of Defense drew the attention of the Minister of Interior to this in a special transcript, and in 1896, a general review of the uniforms was ordered.30

The geographical location of the MVAs can also be well defined. They were established mainly in western and southern Transdanubia, in the western part of present-day Slovakia, in Budapest, in two Transylvanian Saxon counties in Brassó, (Brasov today Romania and Nagyszeben (Sibiu today Romania) and, finally, in southern Hungary: in the Bánát and Bácska. There were also a few associations scattered across other parts of the country. Like their Austrian counterparts, the associations were formed on a territorial basis, recruiting members from a particular town, neighborhood, or county.31

The regions mentioned above had one thing in common: they all had a significant German-speaking population (although they were extremely heterogeneous in terms of language, religion, culture, history, and living conditions). The western villages of Vas and Sopron Counties were inhabited by the predominantly Catholic and to a lesser extent Lutheran “Hientzen,” while in Moson County one found the Catholic “Heidebauers.” Transylvania was home to the largely Lutheran Saxons, who had enjoyed considerable privileges and autonomy before the Austro-Hungarian Compromise. These German settlements can be traced back to the Middle Ages. The Bácska and Bánát were home to the Catholic “Swabians,” who had come from southern Germany in the eighteenth century after the expulsion of the Ottomans. The southern Transdanubian Baranya County was home to the so-called “Stiffollers.”32

The German minorities undoubtedly played a decisive role in the formation of the MVAs, as most of the MVAs were established in German-speaking settlements. However, this did not mean that MVAs spread exclusively among German speakers. They could also be found in some Croatian and Slovak villages in Sopron and Pozsony County on the Austrian border. In addition, the Hungarian-speaking population in the larger towns of Transdanubia established their own MVAs, for example in Szombathely, Győr, Zalaegerszeg, Nagykanizsa, Pécs, and Mohács, as well as in the other towns of the country, such as Miskolc, Marosvásárhely (today Târgu Mureş, Romania), one of the main Székely centers), and even in towns on the Great Plain, such as Szeged and Hódmezővásárhely. Finally, in towns with mixed populations such as Budapest, Sopron, Pozsony (today, Bratislava, Slovakia), Óvár, Arad (today Arad, Romania), Nyitra (today Nitra, Slovakia), Újvidék (today Novi Sad, Serbia, and Temesvár (today Timişoara, Romania), the German and Hungarian-speaking populations set up associations together. No MVAs, however, were found among the majority of Hungarians and other nationalities of the country, or in other words in the Slovene, Slovak (except along the Moravian border), Ruthenian, Romanian, or Serbian settlements.

The prevalence of MVAs (like associations in general), were also closely related to the spread of the literacy. With the exception of Hientzen villages in Vas and Sopron Counties, the vast majority of MVAs were formed in towns and in some large villages. The literacy rate of the total population of these settlements was well above the local and national average, which was only 58 percent in 1910. In Vas and Sopron Counties the literacy rate was 70 percent and 74 percent. In Bács-Bodrog County, it was 58 percent, in the settlement of Szeghegy (today Sekić, Serbia), it was 79 percent , and in Apatin (today Apatin, Serbia) it was 84 percent. MVAs were established in both settlements. Similarly, 68 percent of the total population of Stájerlakanina (today Anina, Romania) could write and read, while the average rate in Krassó-Szörény County was only 45 percent. Finally, the literacy rate in Niczkyfalva (today Niţchidorf, Romania) in Temes was 71 percent, while the county average was 54 percent.33

The most important factor in the development of the MVAs, however, was the proximity of Austria. It is no coincidence that half of the associations identified were formed in Moson, Pozsony, Sopron, and Vas Counties on the border of Austria and Moravia, and most of them were found in the western part of the area. In the case of the Nagyfalva (today Mogersdorf, Austria) MVA founded in Vas County in 1874, for example, the alispán (the deputy főispán, or lord lieutenant of the county) explicitly claimed in his report that the local people had taken their model from neighboring Styria.34 In the case of the MVA in Dobrafalva (today Dobersdorf, Austria), also established in Vas County, the local authorities welcomed the formation of the association, because earlier the veterans had joined the Styrian associations.35 The cross-border relations are also illustrated by the fact that, in 1877, 30 MVAs in Hungary, Lower Austria, Bohemia, and Moravia wanted to form a federation called the Allgemeine Österreichisch-Ungarischer Militär Veteranen Unterstützungs-Bund. The federation would have included two associations from Hungary: the Sopron MVA and the Nagyszombat (today Trnava, Slovakia) MVA. However, the statutes of the federation did not win the approval of the Hungarian Ministry of the Interior, as the federation’s headquarters were abroad and thus the Hungarian authorities would have had no influence on its composition and operation. The Ministry therefore did not allow the two Hungarian associations to join.36

Probably because there were comparatively few of them, the MVAs in Hungary did not form a common organization, and no attempt was made to form a federation apart from the attempt mentioned above. The MVAs were also unable to establish a viable permanent veteran press, although several attempts were made to do so, mainly in the capital. The Hungarian-German bilingual Első Magyarországi Hadastyán Újság (First Hungarian Veteran Journal) was launched in 1878, followed by the Hadastyánok Lapja (The Journal of Military Veterans) in 1882 and its German counterpart Veteranen Zeitung, and finally, in 1893, the bilingual Magyar Hadastyán Újság (Hungarian Veteran Newspaper). As individual initiatives, these newspapers were of low quality, and they published articles almost exclusively on the affairs in the capital. None of them lasted for more than a year, and unfortunately very few copies have survived.

It is even more difficult to determine the number of people who belonged to the various MVAs or and the social composition of these associations, as detailed censuses and membership lists are not available. However, there is some partial information on the basis of which a few general conclusions can be drawn. For example, a survey of associations in Vas County in 1892 and 1914 reveals that the MVAs in the villages had an average of 30–60 members, while in Szombathely, the county seat (with a population of 30,000), the MVA had 120 members.37 Similar proportions can be noticed in Baranya County. The Baranya County MVA in Pécs, the county seat (with a population of 47,000), had 111 members in 1901, while its two rural branches had 58 members in Pécsvárad and 25 in Hosszúhetény.38 In Stájerlakanina, a small German-speaking town in Krassó-Szörény County in Bánát, had 61 members at the time of its formation.39 The Fiume (today Rijeka, Croatia) MVA had 99 members,40 the Nezsider (today Neusiedl am See, Austria) MVA in the western part of the present-day Austria had 150,41 the Arad MVA had 120,42 and the Achduke Joseph I Pozsony MVA had over 100 members at the time of its formation.43 In general, the associations established in villages and small towns had a membership of around 50 people, while in the larger towns they had over 100 members. The only exception was Budapest, where the MVAs had 200–300 members or more.44 Based on these facts, the total number people who belonged to one of the MVAs before World War I might have been between 10,000 and 15,000. For the sake of comparison, it is worth keeping in mind that the total population of Hungary in 1910 (excluding Croatia) was 18.2 million.

Unfortunately, even less is known about the social backgrounds of the people who belonged to the MVAs, as the few membership lists which survived do not include details concerning the members’ occupations. One can only draw conclusions on the basis of the statutes and the reports received by the administrative authorities and the Ministry of Interior. The statutes generally distinguished three types of members: the ordinary members were veterans (or in some cases reservists) of the Imperial and Royal Army and the Royal Hungarian Honvéd Army. Although the associations did not differentiate between the soldiers who belonged to the imperial army and those who belonged to the Hungarian Honvéd Army, it is also true that the statutes were only approved in this form by the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Defense. The patrons and honorary members could also be civilians with no military background. They helped the associations on a voluntary basis, but they could not claim financial aid, nor could they wear uniforms or bear side weapons. Finally, every association had a protector. The associations would ask a local prominent citizen, landowner, nobleman, or even a member of the royal house to fill this role.

As was the case in Austria and Germany, the ordinary members of the associations were chosen from among the rank and file soldiers, and there were even some associations that stipulated in their statutes that members had to be rank and file soldiers. For example, the First Budapest MVA and the Edelsheim-Gyulai Budapest MVA only enrolled members from the rank of sergeant downwards. However, this was something of an exception. In many cases, one or more officers served as the organizer and the president of an association. For example, the first president of the Pécs MVA was Colonel Baron Gottfried Ottinger,45 and the first president of the MVA in Szombathely was Captain József Gottmann.46 In Fiume, retired ship-of-the-line Captain Gustav von Zaccaria played a key role in the establishment of the association.47

The military ranks of the members offer some indication of their social status. In principle, the veterans came from the lower social classes, whom Thomas Rohkrämer referred to as “little people” (kleine Leute). In Germany, for example, most of the veterans were workers, peasants, artisans, small shopkeepers, and low-ranking civil servants, even if the leadership of the MVAs came from the higher echelons of society.48 In Austria, the majority of the MVA membership was comprised of artisans, civil servants, shopkeepers, merchants, and, as of the turn of the century, peasants. There were, however some regional and national differences. In German-speaking areas, the MVAs also had people who belonged to the liberal bourgeoisie and landowners among their members, while where national politics played an important role (in Czech and Italian territories), the middle class and liberal bourgeoisie were mainly absent. In addition, the majority of the working class was largely left untouched by the veterans’ movement in Austria. Members of the nobility or the clergy and officers participated mainly as initiators, supporters, or presidents. In addition, there was another important peculiarity to the MVAs in Austria. In ethnically mixed areas, the veterans increasingly formed the associations on the basis of nationality.49

In Hungary, the reports preserved in the archives of the Ministry of Interior refer to the “lower social status” of the members, who were generally tradesmen, artisans, lower civil servants, and peasants. Members of the local nobility, the urban middle class, and the clergy were present as supporters at most. In addition, it must be highlighted that not only men but in many cases women also took part in the operation of the MVAs. One way of doing so was to form a sister association. The wives of veterans formed associations in Pozsony in 1882, in Budapest in 1885, and in Pécs in 1884.50 Similarly, several associations in the capital had their own women’s section, such as the First Budapest MVA, the Archduke Joseph MVA, and the Prince Coburg MVA.51

Finally, it is worth offering a few words on the goals of the associations. The MVAs established in the territory of the Kingdom of Hungary were first and foremost relief organizations, like their Austrian counterparts. Their members received financial and medical aid in case of illness, and their widows and orphans received funeral and financial assistance in case of death. Most of the associations, however, had two main additional goals: to cultivate the esprit de corps and loyalty to the king and fatherland. In many cases, these goals were met by self-education and efforts to foster civic virtues and respect for the law and legal authorities. The associations, however, were not allowed to engage in political and national activities. Otherwise, they could be banned, at least for the nationalities. In 1885, for example, in Szakolca (today Skalica, Slovakia), in a predominantly Slovak-speaking town on the Moravian border, the local authorities prevented the formation of a MVA because of its national character (the mayor, János Sebesi, was a Hungarian lawyer). After the attempts to reestablish the MVA in the neighboring settlement Holics (today Holič, Slovakia), the association was banned by the Ministry of Interior. According to the Deputy Lord Lieutenant’s report, the main organizers were known nationalist agitators, and therefore the association would have served primarily nationalist and unpatriotic purposes.52 This austerity, however, affected only the nationalities, while, as we shall see, the authorities welcomed indications of attachment to the Hungarian national idea in the associations.

Military Veterans’ Associations in Vas County

In the second part of this study, I examine the functioning of MVAs, drawing on the example of Vas County in western Hungary. I primarily seek answers to the following questions: how was loyalty to the king and the fatherland expressed? What did the concept of fatherland mean according to veterans? How did the MVAs relate to the national idea, and how were they received by the local society? I first examine the Vas County MVA, founded in Szombathely, the county seat, and then the associations formed in the villages of the German-speaking western part of the county. In doing so, I primarily use the local newspapers and the official reports, because the associations themselves did not have any archives or at least no such archives have survived.

The Vas County MVA

In the second half of the nineteenth century, Szombathely was a dynamically developing medium-sized town, an episcopal seat, and an important commercial, financial, and transport hub in the western Transdanubian region with significant industry and a military garrison. It was one of the fastest growing settlements in the country. Its population was only 7,500 in 1869, but by 1910, it has risen to 31,000. 83 percent of the inhabitants were Catholic, 10 percent were Jewish, and the rest were Protestant. Although at the beginning of the nineteenth century Szombathely was a town with a mixed German-speaking and Hungarian-speaking population, by the 1880s, 90 percent of the population identified as native Hungarian speakers.53

In November 1883, at the initiative of Károly Luxander, the police commissioner of Szombathely began organizing the Vas County MVA. Although his original intention was to start an association as a branch of the Sopron MVA, the MVA was eventually established as an independent organization on June 22, 1884.54 At the moment of its formation, it had 87 ordinary members, a number which rose to 120 by 1892.55 At that time, it had 22 additional founding members and 170 patrons. By 1899, the number of ordinary members fell to 95, but by 1909, it had risen again to 124.56

In principle, the association covered the whole county, but its members came mainly from Szombathely. Unfortunately, the sources reveal little about the social background of its members, because no lists of the members have survived (assuming there were such lists). Based on the linguistic composition of the town, it can be assumed that the majority of the members were Hungarian-speaking. The statutes and invitations of the association were only published in Hungarian. It was mixed in terms of religion, with both Christians (probably predominantly Catholic) and Jews. This is indicated by the fact that the most significant internal crisis of the association was not national but religious. In 1899, several Catholic members tried to deprive the Jews of their voting rights in the general assembly. They failed in this attempt, however, and the religious peace was restored.57

At the time of the formation of the association, the majority of its members were probably war veterans, most of them rank and file soldiers. According to a document written in 1894, the association had among its members veterans of the war of 1848–1849, the Italian war of 1859, the Schleswig-Holstein war of 1864, the Prussian and Italian wars of 1866, the Dalmatian campaign of 1869, and the occupation of Bosnia in 1878.58 This is well illustrated by the leadership of the association too. The first president was József Gottmann, while the vice-presidents were Károly Luxander and József Heimler. Gottmann was educated in a military institute, had fought under Radetzky in Italy in 1848–49, and had taken part in the battle of Solferino in 1859.59 Subsequently, he was dismissed as a hussar captain. József Heimler, who later became president of the association, enlisted in the army in 1854, fought at Magenta and Solferino and, in 1866, at Königgrätz.60 Finally, Károly Luxander enrolled in 1864 and fought in the Danish campaign and against the Prussians in 1866. 61

The statutes of the association set out its goals as follows:

a) To cultivate and propagate the military spirit, to maintain patriotic sentiment and loyalty to the king, and to maintain respect for the law and the lawful supreme authority, the esprit de corps outside the military service.

b) To provide financial support for the members of the association, to contribute to the medical expenses of sick members and the funeral expenses of deceased members, and possibly to provide financial assistance to the widows and orphans of the members left behind.62

 

The means of achieving these goals were also laid down in the statutes. Regarding the first point, which is now relevant to my discussion, they were as follows: the association had its own holiday calendar, which included dynastic and patriotic holidays as well as religious holidays including the king’s birthday and name day (August 18 and October 4), the queen’s name day (November 19), Saint Stephen’s Day (August 20), the procession on Holy Saturday, and the procession on Corpus Christi. On these days, the association marched as a body in uniform with side weapons and under the flag. In addition, on Good Friday at least two members were sent with swords and in uniform to guard the Tomb of Christ.63

Nurturing a sense of loyalty to the king was a priority for the association. This is shown by the fact that the first public march-out after its formation was timed for August 18, the birthday of Franz Joseph. The event was celebrated with particular pomp. The town was roused in the morning with the firing of howitzers and an alarm. People then marched to music to the festive mass in the cathedral, and after the official program, they held a popular festival.64 Franz Joseph’s birthday and name day were official holidays in Hungary. In Szombathely, all churches celebrated festive masses, but the central celebration always took place in the cathedral, where the town and county authorities, the military garrison, schools, and many associations appeared. Beginning in 1884, the Vas County MVA also joined, and it became an essential part of all dynastic celebrations. The association commemorated both the royal and the imperial anniversaries, which were not official holidays in Hungary. From the point of view of Hungarian law, Franz Joseph ruled in Hungary as king and not as emperor (as Austria and Hungary were, according to Hungarian law, two independent states). On the occasion of Franz Joseph’s 70th birthday in 1900, President József Heimler had a portrait of the royal family painted. This offers a clear indication of the central role of the emperor for the association. Indeed, this portrait was treasured by the association even in the interwar period.65

The other most important holiday for the association was August 20, the day of Saint Stephen, the first Hungarian king. This was one of the most important public holidays in Hungary, although it was not official due its Catholic character. With some exceptions, the Vas County MVA held its summer feast, the income from which increased the association’s fund, on this day every year. These were usually folk festivals following the mass, with a band, tombola, various outdoor games, and often fireworks in the evening.66 Thus, the association’s main patriotic holiday was linked to the Hungarian state, and the concept of fatherland meant the Kingdom of Hungary, not the unified Austrian Empire. In addition, the association had a strong local identity which was linked to the county. This is also shown by the flag itself. It had a picture of the Virgin Mary with the inscription “Virgin Mary, Patroness of Hungary” on one side and angels holding the holy crown and the coat of arms of Hungary and Vas County with battle badges at their feet and the inscription “Vas County Veterans’ Association” on the other. In addition to the county coat of arms, the colors of the flag (blue and white, the colors of the county) also expressed the attachment to the local community.67

A much more complex picture emerges, however, regarding the military culture nurtured by the association. On one hand, it fostered an attachment to the heroic past of the Imperial and Royal Army, in which its members had served and in which many of them had fought. This is perhaps best illustrated by the Millennium celebrations of 1896, to which the veterans contributed with a special commemorative day. On June 24, the veterans in Vas County of the battles of Solferino and Custoza held a meeting in Szombathely organized by the MVA. On the anniversary day, nearly 200 veterans of the battles gathered with a cockade with the inscription “1859–1866” on their chest. The deputy lord lieutenant and the town mayor and also the delegation of the military garrison appeared in the meeting, while the band of the Imperial and Royal 48th Infantry Regiment was provided by Corps Commander Archduke Friedrich at his own expense. The meeting focused on loyalty to the king and fatherland, a sense of duty, and the memory of fallen comrades. In his speech, József Heimler said,

As the Hungarian nation as a whole celebrates the millennium of its state-existence with a light that shines throughout the world, this time we, warriors fighting in wars, those who with the full devotion of our military oath and duty once risked our lives and blood in bloody battles for the fatherland and the throne, today, on the anniversary of the ever-memorable decisive and bloody battles of Solferino and Custoza, we have every right to enjoy a double celebration.68

It was also decided at the feast that the meeting would be repeated every five years, although we only know of one occasion (in 1901) when it took place again.69

In addition to the Habsburg Army’s heroic past, however, the veterans also nurtured the legacy of the Hungarian War of Independence of 1848–49. In 1886, for example, several Hungarian army veterans from Szombathely were invited to the flag consecration ceremony. Furthermore, Mária Lebstück, who was famous for fighting as a woman in the War of Independence and even received the rank of lieutenant, was also present. Lebstück arrived with the veterans from Pest, and she was personally welcomed at the banquet after the flag consecration, setting as an example for all those present. From the second half of the 1890s onwards, the veterans also took part in many events and ceremonies connected to 1848, such as the celebrations of the fiftieth anniversary of the death of Sándor Petőfi, the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Lajos Kossuth, and the unveiling of the only statue of Kossuth in Körmend in 1907, the only statue of Kossuth in the county. They also frequently took part in the requiem masses on October 6, the day on which 13 Hungarian Honvéd generals were executed in 1849. Finally, in 1895 they joined the Vas County Honvéd Army Association as supporters, and between 1894 and 1899, the two associations had a common president, István Farkas.70

This duality is far from unique. For example, in several associations in Budapest, former veterans of the Hungarian Honvéd army were also enrolled, and in other places the president of the association was a former Honvéd army soldier. For example, Jenő Heinrich, the president of the Baldácsy Third Budapest MVA, fought throughout the War of Independence, after which he was imprisoned and then conscripted into the Habsburg Army.71 But the association protector himself, Antal Baldácsy, was also an officer of the Honvéd army. Heinrich’s case, moreover, highlights the fact that many members of MVAs in Hungary had served both in the Honvéd army in 1848–49 and in the Imperial and Royal Army. After the War of Independence, 25–30 percent of the former Honvéd army soldiers were conscripted, so it was not uncommon for MVAs formed in the 1870s and 1880s to have members with a dual military past.

Based on the above, the MVAs which formed in the towns of Hungary were not left untouched by Hungarian nationalism, especially from the 1890s onwards. In the 1870s and 1880s, for example, the use of traditional imperial symbols was still quite common. On the holidays of the associations, “Gott erhalte” (the imperial anthem) was played, and even in 1888, the associations in Budapest voted down the proposal to replace this anthem with the Hungarian anthem.72 In Sopron and in Fiume, the veterans originally wanted to display the two-headed eagle on the association flags, a plan which was only abandoned because the Ministry of Interior banned it .73

It is hardly a coincidence that in the 1880s Hungarian nationalists often blamed MVAs for “Germanisation.” Pesti Napló, for example (a periodical on Pest), reported on the founding and first march held by the veterans in Szombathely, characterizing it as a “pointless waste of time and money” as well as a “hotbed of Germanisation,” and as such, a “particularly unhealthy movement.”74 But the same accusation was also brought against the associations in Budapest for using the imperial anthem and German-language invitations to their events.75 These criticisms, however, interestingly did not find support locally. On the contrary, in Szombathely, for example, the newspaper of the Independence Party rejected the accusations made by Pesti Napló, highlighting the humanitarian purpose and Hungarian character of the association.76

Although imperial symbols were a constant target of criticism by Hungarian nationalists, they did not really cause much of a clash in everyday life until the turn of the century. In Szombathely, for example, the imperial anthem was used at all official dynastic celebrations until the 1890s, and it generated no particular scandal when it was played before thousands of people at the veterans’ flag consecration ceremony in 1886, just a few months after the so-called Janski scandal, which had provoked great uproar among nationalists.77

In the 1890s, however, the use of symbols began to change in parallel with the strengthening of Hungarian nationalism in general. The imperial anthem was replaced with the Hungarian anthem, in Sopron the German language of command was replaced with Hungarian, and the memory of 1848–49 became more and more important.78 In 1905, for example, the Mohács MVA held its own ceremony to commemorate the revolution which began on March 15, 1848.79 In the same year, the placing of a wreath on the local Kossuth statue was a key part of the flag consecration ceremony for the veterans of the Bosnian occupation campaign in 1878 in Hódmezővásárhely.80 The imperial anthem was now a source of conflict in Szombathely too, and at the commemoration meeting of the veterans of Solferino and Custoza in 1901, deputy lord lieutenant Ede Reiszig did not to deliver his speech, because the conductor of the military band insisted on playing “Gott erhalte” when the name of Franz Joseph was mentioned.81

The relationship with the former soldiers in the Honvéd army and the change in the use of symbols suggest that Hungarian nationalism had an impact on the urban MVAs, at least where Hungarian veterans played a decisive role in their operations. However, it had a specific content corresponding with local peculiarities and the veterans’ military past. Based on the example of Szombathely, the apparent contradiction between the Habsburg army and the 1848–49 tradition did not pose an insoluble dilemma for the veterans. For them, both were examples of military duty and a patriotic act through which they expressed their loyalty to the king. Fatherland in this sense meant the independent Kingdom of Hungary, but as the part of the Dual Monarchy under the rule of the Habsburgs. This is why Custozza and Solferino were presented as a symbol of loyalty to the Hungarian fatherland. For these veterans, the two were not easily separable. For example, József Heimler himself, who led the association from 1899 until his death in 1914, was a committed 1867 liberal. As a wealthy merchant (as the representative of Grazer Puntigam in Szombathely he managed the company’s interests in Hungary, Croatia, and Bosnia), he was a staunch supporter of the Liberal Party and, later, of the Fejérváry government and then István Tisza.82 It should also be pointed out, however, that the supranational patriotic ethos of the army and the idea of the unified empire was also far from the veterans’ philosophy, as it had no tradition in Hungary.

The appearance of national symbols met with a completely different reception in Hungary than in Austria. In Ljubljana, for example, the replacement of the German language of command with Slovenian led to the dissolution of the Carniolan Military Veterans Corps, while in Hungary the local authorities welcomed these processes.83 The examples above, however, are largely from Hungarian-speaking or mixed-population towns, where the assimilation of the Germans was the most significant during the Dualist era. It is worth noting that this issue requires further research. In Szombathely, for example, there was no German-speaking local elite, while the local peculiarities significantly influenced these processes. In towns with strong German elites and a strong sense of local identity (e.g., Temesvár, Pozsony, and the towns in the Saxon territories of Transylvania), the members of the MVAs probably behaved completely differently.84

Returning to the example of Szombathely, the question of how the veterans and their activities were received by local society also arises. In this respect, there is also a kind of dichotomy. On the one hand, the formation of MVAs was supported by the leadership of the town and the county, as well as by a number of local landowners. Prince Ödön Batthyány-Strattmann was the association’s main protector, and the vice-protector was Bishop Kornél Hidassy. The formation also had the support of Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria,85 Lord Lieutenant Kálmán Radó, Deputy Lord Lieutenant Ede Reiszig, Mayor Károly Varasdy, several financial institutions of Szombathely, and the landowners of the county.86

The great interest shown by the town is well illustrated by the flag consecration ceremony held on August 22, 1886. The flag itself was donated by two surviving members of the former Tailors’ Guild, which was then modified. The highlight of the two-day celebration was the consecration ceremony in the town’s main square in the presence of nearly 8,000 people. According to press reports, there were even people on the rooftops. The flag-mother was Mrs. Ödön Batthyány-Strattmann, but the town and county leadership also attended, as did many members of the county elite and several local associations. In addition, many MVAs arrived from different towns of the country. Finally, Colonel Rohonczy, the commander of the 5th Hussar Regiment stationed in the county, and a delegation of the 76th Infantry Regiment of Sopron (Szombathely was part of the supplementary area of this regiment) paid their respects on the day of the celebration. The latter regiment also provided the music. The festive mass was celebrated by István Horváth, the parish priest of Szombathely. After the ceremony, the association gave a banquet for 180 people, and the evening entertainment was held in three places in the town. 87

In other words, the association received considerable support from the county, the town, and the diocese, not only from official circles, but also from many individuals, as indicated by the high number of patron members described earlier. The local press also welcomed the formation of the association and appreciated its aims, irrespective of political affiliation.“ The parade, which was watched with warm interest by the people of our town, was in every respect a success [...] the most successful of all this year’s summer festivities.”88 The latter comment was echoed several times in the local press in the following years. The August 20 festivities of the veterans were basically folk festivals, and they drew crowds in the hundreds and sometimes thousands. These festivities were special highlights of the town’s social life. As one local newspaper noted in 1889, “I don’t know how, but this association was born under a lucky star in Szombathely. It succeeds in everything though everyone smiles at it.” 89

The second sentence of the report, however, also points out that the association’s reputation was far from self-evident. According to a local satirical magazine the “old children” were regularly smiled at with a touch of scorn in the town as they marched with their “toys” at every celebration and holiday.90 This seems to have continued in later years, and even on the occasion of the 25th anniversary celebrations of the association in 1909, a local paper noted that the association was “often quite undeservedly the center of jokes and mocking banter.”91 Interestingly, however, these jokes never appeared in the local press.

The habit or practice of mocking veterans was not peculiar to Szombathely. There are several examples of this in many other places, especially in the 1870s and 1880s, and where there was a Hungarian or a significant Hungarian-speaking population. For example, in a report to the Ministry of Interior, the lord lieutenant of Sopron County wrote about the Sopron MVA founded in 1877. He contended that, “this association receives no support or sympathy from the locals,” and“ the citizens also show some aversion to this association, which is rather military in character.”92 Similar voices were heard from Mohács in southern Hungary93 and Arad at the other end of the country, where the mayor wrote that “the members waste their time on parades which have become comical in the eyes of the public.”94 The associations in Budapest also carried the stigma of the “serious old comedians.”95

The events of the association, however, remained popular until the turn of the century, when a rather spectacular break can be observed in the activity of the Vas County MVA. Its public appearances were pushed back. The most obvious sign of this was the end of the summer festivities on August 20 at the turn of the century. In 1913, a local newspaper described the association as follows:

The Szombathely Veterans’ Association does not boast a loud publicity of charity; the whole humble and valuable individuality of the brewery commissioner József Heimler, the president of the veterans, is expressed in the work of the association: to talk little and do as much as possible. To hold as few parades as possible and to wipe away as many tears as possible, to alleviate misery, to make easier the helpless old days of old soldiers.96

The stagnation of the Vas County MVA can probably be explained primarily by the fact that, while the number of war veterans decreased, only a few of those who had done their military service in peacetime joined the association. The association could not adapt to the changing social and political environment of the turn of the century. One of the local papers summed up the situation as follows in 1909: “A somewhat outdated but venerable institution of the old parade world is celebrating on August 15 in Szombathely. [...] The urban development of Szombathely, the progress of the electric tram has made the veterans’ institution a little outdated. Today, the veterans are no more than a crowd for the town or the church celebrations.”97

Veterans’ Associations in German-speaking Areas of Vas County

In Vas County, in addition to the MVA in Szombathely, 16 other veterans’ associations were formed during the Dualist era, all of them in the western areas inhabited by German-speaking “Hientzen.” Of these, 13 were purely German-speaking, two were mixed German and Hungarian, and one was German and Croatian.98 The associations recruited veterans not only from their own villages, which had populations of 1,000 or 2,000 people, but also from the surrounding settlements. Their main aims, as in the case of all MVAs, were to provide relief, foster an esprit de corps and a sense of loyalty to the king and the fatherland, and uphold the rule of law and good morals. There are no precise records of their memberships, but they were probably made up of peasants and artisans who had served as rank and file soldiers in the army. The leadership and organization were often taken over by the local elite. For example, the president of the Vaskomját (today Kemeten, Austria) MVA was Ármin Schocklits, a local landowner, and the vice president was Ferenc Hulfeld, the local teacher. The president and organizer of the Királyfalva MVA was General Wocher, also a local landowner, while the first president of the Némethidegkut (today Deutsch Kaltenbrunn, Austria) MVA was Mihály Rathner, the local priest.99

The local Hungarian nobility also played an important role in the organization and in providing financial and moral support for the associations. Of the three associations mentioned above, the patron of the Királyfalva MVA was Prince Alfred von Montenuovo and the patron of the Vaskomját MVA was Count Gyula Erdődy. The Némethidegkut MVA had most prestigious protector, however. It won the support of Crown Prince Rudolf, while the flag-mother position was taken by Archduchess Stefania. Of course, neither the crown prince nor the archduchess appeared in person at the flag consecration ceremony. Archduchess Stefania was replaced by a local landowner, the widow of Count Herman Zichy.100

It is not surprising that, while they did not always enjoy high esteem in the towns, MVAs were highly prestigious in the rural area. In 1876, for example, the lord lieutenant wrote the following about the Királyfalva MVA in his report: “In rural areas, however, it has a good reputation and is well respected, because it can boast members who are among the most distinguished members of the countryside and belong to the intelligentsia.”101 The rural association had no membership problems and, although it was presumably war veterans who first organized themselves in the 1870s and 1880s, the steady increase in the number of associations suggests that, later, they were able to recruit peacetime veterans who had done general military service. Thus, three associations were formed in the 1870s, four in 1880s and nine more after the turn of the century. The associations also played an active role in local society. They were not only regular participants in certain public and church holidays but also contributed to the village life by holding their own events. More than one association even organized readings and popular lectures for its members.102

In the case of the German-speaking MVAs, which were formed near the Austrian border, one might well assume that they were more influenced by the Austrian state-idea. But this was far from the case. Even an examination of their statutes suggests that, instead of common imperial consciousness, loyalty to the Kingdom of Hungary came to the fore. This is well illustrated by the fact that twelve associations had Saint Stephen with the Hungarian coat of arms and the Holy Crown on their flags, one (the aforementioned Vaskomját MVA) had King Matthias, and one had only the coat of arms and the crown. In addition, the Némethidegkut MVA, also mentioned above, had a portrait of Archduke Charles on its flag. Finally, many associations emphasized their Hungarian character in their choice of name and described themselves as “Hungarian military veterans’ associations.”103

The holiday calendar of the associations was also adapted to the above. All associations marched in uniform under the flag at the celebrations on Franz Joseph’s birthday, on Saint Stephen’s Day, and at all “church and patriotic” celebrations, to which they were invited by the organizers. Saint Stephen’s prominence was further enhanced by the fact that most of the associations also chose a patron saint, and in every such case, they chose the first Hungarian king.

Saint Stephen, as the founder of the Hungarian state, symbolized the Kingdom of Hungary, to which the loyalty of the veterans was primarily directed. This was also reinforced by the local church and noble elite, who played an important role in the organization and support of the associations and who were predominantly Hungarian. Their support was not without any ulterior motives, as they tried to direct the population towards the Hungarian national idea through associations with great prestige in the countryside. At the flag consecration ceremony of the Vaskomját MVA, for example, in his speech, deacon József Pulay noted the following Hungarian heroes as examples of valor for the veterans: János Hunyady, Tamás Erdődy, ban of Croatia (who was obviously included in the speech because of the presence of Gyula Erdődy), Mátyás Hunyadi, and the heroes of the War of Independence of 1848–49. After Pulay’s speech, Gyula Erdődy exhorted those present to show “loyalty and love for His Majesty, the most noble and righteous monarch.” The association also paid tribute to the king on the occasion of the consecration of the flag.104

The activities of the German-speaking MVAs were also positively assessed by the county administration. In his report on the Némethidegkut MVA, the lord lieutenant wrote,

The behavior of its members is not only honorable, but also shows loyal devotion to the reigning king and the Hungarian fatherland, which, with its beautiful character, has a good effect everywhere, but especially on the borders of the country, towards our Styrian neighbors and raises the self-esteem and character of the nation.105

The authorities also welcomed the formation of the associations, because, as the report on the Vasdobra (today Neuhaus am Klausenbach, Austria) MVA shows, the phenomenon that many veterans joined the neighboring Styrian association had gradually disappeared. This was seen as a positive development, even if close links with the Styrians were maintained and they were mutually present at each other’s celebrations. For example, four Styrian associations were represented at the flag consecration ceremony of the Vaskomját MVA, and several foreign associations sent their representatives to the flag consecration ceremony of the Nagyfalva MVA in 1911.106

In other words, the German-speaking associations, in addition to fostering the military spirit and esprit de corps, primarily considered it their task to pledge and nurture loyalty to the king and the Kingdom of Hungary. However strongly the Hungarian political circles may have wanted to push nationalism and Magyarization, these sentiments and ideologies were distant from the rural German-speaking population. Loyalty to king and country did not mean nationalism. Even at the turn of the century, the pre-modern so-called “Hungarus” identity, which had its roots in the Middle Ages but became dominant only in the early modern period, was still predominant among the German minority, and the degree of national mobilization (whether German or Hungarian) remained low. The essence of the Hungarus identity was loyalty to the Kingdom of Hungary without linguistic, religious, or cultural differences, mixed with strong local identity. The German minority groups in Hungary had no common national identity, and they identified themselves according to their place of residence, culture, and religion.107

Conclusion

In Hungary in the Dualist era, there was nothing analogous to the veterans’ movements found in Austria or Germany. Although the number of associations grew steadily before World War I, these associations spread only locally. The MVAs were formed above all in a German-speaking environment (mainly in western Transdunabia), even if they appeared sporadically among Slovaks and Croats in western Hungary and among Hungarians in the larger towns.

The lack of a veterans’ movement is perhaps most easily explained by the lack of a national army and the supranational ideology of the Habsburg Army. This is confirmed by the fact that the 1848–49 Honvéd army veterans’ associations were able to spread throughout the country in a short space of time. In 1867, the former veterans of the Hungarian War of Independence established their associations throughout the country on a territorial basis. As a result, within a year, Honvéd army veterans’ associations were established in every county and several towns, with a total of 50,000 members, and a central organization was even created.108

Attachment to national identity, however, would be an overly simplistic explanation. For example, the number of members in the case of the Honvéd army associations is somewhat deceptive: the associations themselves were largely formed by former officers in the seats of the counties, but membership was not entirely voluntary. It was prescribed by the administrative authorities on central orders, and even the Honvéd army veterans had to prove their identity. It is also surprising that the Royal Hungarian Honvéd Army established in 1868 was not able to influence the Hungarian-speaking population in this respect. Finally, the ideology of the army would not provide an explanation for similar attitudes among the nationalities. It is interesting, for example, that MVAs did not appear among the Serb or Croat population of the former military frontier.

The explanations (of which a sense of national identity is only one) are more complex. First, one must consider the political and economic situation of Hungary. Hungary had always occupied a special status within the Habsburg Monarchy, and military organization was no exception. Until the second half of the nineteenth century, Hungary was less integrated into the Habsburg fiscal-military state, and thus there was less of a military tradition on which to build.109

Financial considerations were an equally important factor. Since MVAs were primarily relief associations, their establishment and maintenance required significant financial sacrifices from the membership. Even to join a MVA required a considerable investment, as uniforms and side arms had to be purchased. Thus, the establishment of MVAs depended heavily on the financial strength and standard of living of the population, which was generally lower in Hungary than in Austria. Furthermore, there were also huge regional differences within Hungary. In rural areas in particular, the population invested primarily in fire-fighting associations and less often in economic or other cultural associations (such as reading or singing clubs), or in the creation of a broader relief association.110

In addition to the above, the lack of a widespread veterans’ movement suggests that there was simply no need to create such organizations, and this in turn point to the limits of the impact of general conscription on the wider society. On one hand, the militarization of society is a phenomenon of modernization, but even at the outbreak of World War I, nearly two-thirds of the country’s population was still traditional agrarian with a very low level of literacy in many places. The lack of MVAs indicates at least in part (and is explained by) the low degree of social militarization of the population. On the other hand, in the case of the Hungarian urban bourgeoisie and middle class, national reasons undoubtedly played a role. Though the officer corps and the army itself were highly prestigious and the spread of pre-military training among the Hungarian urban middle class suggests the importance of military values at the turn of the century, the supranational ideology of the army and the memory of the war of independence did inhibit the formation of MVAs among the national middle class.111 The mixed, often mocking reception of the associations formed in the larger towns also indicates the lower level of prestige enjoyed by veterans.

Even if one cannot speak about a general veterans’ movement in Hungary, the study of the MVAs that were formed nonetheless yields some interesting insights. One of these is that the Habsburg Army could have played a role in strengthening loyalty to the Habsburg House in this part of the Monarchy, but only in the Hungarian context. For historical reasons, there was no breeding ground for the idea of unified empire in Hungary, even among the German minority.

Given the small number of MVAs in Hungary, the state did not play a role in their spread and operation, but the local Hungarian elites supported them in some cases. The example of the MVAs in the German-speaking rural areas of Vas County reveals that, where the MVAs enjoyed a high level of prestige, the Hungarian elites tried to put them at the service of Magyarization. This met with only limited success, however. The identity of Hientzen was more dominated by the pre-modern Hungarus-idea, and even the Vas County MVA in Szombathely (and other towns) had a very special interpretation of the national consciousness. Not only was the use of imperial symbols common among veterans even in the late 1880s, but the heroic past of the Habsburg Army and the idea of the Hungarian nation were compatible for them, as both symbolized loyalty and duty to the king and the Hungarian fatherland. It was at the turn of the century that the imperial symbols began to be replaced by Hungarian ones. This also shows that the Hungarian national idea could have distinct meanings even in Hungarian-speaking populations, meanings which in some cases were very different from what was nationalists expected. Finally, it is noteworthy that these contradictions did not cause any conflict on the local level either, and the Vas County MVA was not exposed to nationalist critics from the Hungarian-speaking population of Szombathely. On the contrary. Even though it did not enjoy a high level of prestige, its humanitarian patriotic goals were recognized and its events were popular among the town’s population.

 

Archival Sources

Budapest Főváros Levéltára [Budapest City Archives] (BFL)

IV.1428. Politikai iratok gyűjteménye [Collection of political records]

Magyar Nemzeti Levéltár Országos Levéltára [National Archive of Hungary] (MNL OL)

K148 Belügyminisztériumi levéltár, Elnöki iratok [Archive of Ministry of Interior, presidential records]

K150 Belügyminisztériumi levéltár, Áltatlános iratok [Archive of Ministry of Interior, general records]

Magyar Nemzeti Levéltár Vas Megyei Levéltára [Nation Archive of Hungary, Archive of Vas County] (MNL VaML)

IV.401.b. Vas vármegye főispánjának iratai, Általános iratok [Records of Lieutenant of Vas County, general records]

IV.405.b. Vas vármegye alispájának iratai, Közigazgatási iratok [Records of Lord lieutenant of Vas County, administrative records]

IV.440. Vas vármemgye egyesületeinek alapszabályai [Statutes of Associations in Vas county]

V.173.b. Szombathely város polgármesterének iratai, Bizalmas iratok [Records of Mayor of Szombathely, administrative records]

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Unowsky, Daniel L. The Pomp and Politics of Patriotism: Imperial Celebrations in Habsburg Austria, 1848–1916. West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2005.

Varga, Bálint. The Monumental Nation: Magyar Nationalism and Symbolic Politics in Fin-de-siècle Hungary. Austrian and Habsburg Studies 20. New York-London: Berghahn Books, 2016.

Vogel, Jakob. Nationen im Gleichschritt: Der Kult der “Nation in Waffen” in Deutschland und Frankreich, 1871–1914. Kritische Studien zur Geschichtswissenschaft 118. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997.

Weber, Eugen. Peasants into Frenchman: The Modernization of Rural France 1870–1914. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1976.

Zahra, Tara. “Imagined Noncommunities: National Indifference as a Category of Analysis.” Slavic Review 69, no. 1 (2010): 93–119. doi: 10.1017/S0037677900016715

The article illustrates the policy of wielding the hero as a symbolic political and nationalizing instrument in the Montenegrin, Ottoman, and Serbian armies before the Balkan Wars. The heroic became an integral part of other social disciplines (such as schools). Besides standing in a clear interdependent relationship, these social disciplines represented a necessary result of various centralizing processes of the governing elites. The primary efforts for the nationalization of the population were undertaken in the pre-/post-military life, in which the role of different state agents was equally important. Hence, the grid of the social disciplines became ever denser, which led to the uniformity of the heroic. This process enabled the legitimization of the ruling elites, subsequent actions in war, and heroization among recruits. The article argues that uniformity of the heroic is lacking in the Ottoman context. Given the ideological context and intellectual background of the preachers of nationalism, the consistency of the Ottoman heroic narrative before, during, and after military service is missing. The article shows that the so-called medievalism closely linked to the heroic offered a framework for constructing continuity between the immediate and distant past, providing meaning to someone’s death. A link between the past, the present, and the future was established, which constructed the nation’s primordial character and the feeling of ancient hatred towards an imaginary enemy.

Keywords: heroic, military, Montenegro, Ottoman Empire, Serbia, soldiers

Introduction

I am (…) convinced that (…) just as each of you would give your life for your parents, other close relatives, your house and your property, just as you would do for yourself, if there were any danger, so too would you die and sacrifice your life for our exalted commander of the army, the King Petar I, because I know that among you, Serb sons, there is no such coward who would leave his loved ones, his house, and property, and shamefully flee just to save his life. No, no… Such renegades are no longer born to Serb mothers! (…) As our great-grandfathers, grandfathers, and fathers did, so should and must the descendants of Miloš Obilić, Kraljević Marko, Hajduk-Veljko, Tanasko Rajić, Stevan Sinđelić, Kurusla, and many other proud and undead Serb heroes should and must do.

A Serbian Officer Petar Bojović (1907)1

Petar Bojović was one of the many officers in the tumultuous first decade of the twentieth century who believed that the military could forge an ideal and conscious soldier and compatriot from what his peers in the Ottoman army called an ignorant or illiterate peasant (cahil köylü).2 Since the officers thought that the military played a crucial role in secondary socialization, they adhered to instrumental archetypes and metaphors, which were vital (albeit not adequate) to maintain the inner cohesion, control, and the recruits’ motivation.3 The military tried various strategies to stage and schedule the members’ daily activities and was also utterly imaginative when it came to formulating messages of purpose.4 One of these strategies was to fashion images of the ideal hero. Heroes are understood here as historical or fictional characters presented as having or are ascribed certain heroic qualities. The process of attributing heroes with particular virtues creates a sense of interaction between these heroes and their followers, followed by imitation and appropriation of heroic deeds.5

In this essay, I focus on the non-commissioned, junior, and high officers who defined and transmitted heroic norms in the military and negotiated them in military manuals and articles. To a certain degree, these sources serve as a genre of the ego-documents since the state actors relied on their personal experiences with recruits when conveyed their messages. Given the low literacy rates and poor infrastructure, oral propaganda methods in encouraging military mobilization played an important role.6 I adopt a comparative approach to explain similarities, differences, convergences, and divergences, and I also relate notions of heroism to specific institutions and actors.7 I analyze these sources by adhering to historical discourse analysis and seeing them as part of a system of “symbolic violence.” The military manuals and articles had to simplify the recruits’ complex social situations. Through these means of education, the officers tried to ascribe symbolic positive and negative symbolic meanings to specific processes.8

Examining the heroic allows one to look at the structures and discourses of nationalism, domination, subjecthood, and gender from a different angle. Soldiers had to possess the necessary masculine military virtues, which were supposed to become an integral part of their bodies and souls.9 The “stigmatized” and the “normal” are two sides of the same coin, and they were not persons but rather perspectives. The military wanted to create deviant behaviors and a black-and-white picture through which conformity could be quickly praised.10 Venerating the heroic facilitated the furthering of nation-building projects, cultivating solidarity among the recruits, and preparing them to lay down their lives, since the notion of heroism gave meaning to someone’s death. Soldiers were the recipients in this case; yet, connecting to the ideal hero is always selective and does not indicate the totality of the heroes’ features. Employing the ideal heroic enabled the legitimization of the ruling elites and subsequent actions in war among the recruits. But the notions of the heroic also became alive in the present.11 The existence these notions facilitated control over subjects, whereby the heroes functioned as “a double crowd.” The actions of the common men are measured and evaluated in relationship to these idealized heroes.12 The policy of wielding the hero as a symbolic political instrument and the nationalization of this heroic figures started in revolutionary France.13 Where did this discourse come from in Montenegro, the Ottoman Empire, and Serbia? What were the functions of these invented heroes? And how were they significant?

Heroes, Recruits, and Their Superiors

The discourse about the heroic in Serbia and Montenegro stemmed from several areas: the “golden age” of the medieval Serbian state under the Nemanjić dynasty, the myth and epic songs that revolved about the Battle of Kosovo (1389), the epic songs about the Serbian Uprisings (1804–1815) and the 1876–78 Ottoman-Serbian wars, and oral folklore about kinship heroes in certain parts of Montenegro.14 By instrumentalizing folklore as a legitimizing claim, the preachers of nationalism tended to constitute and encode certain societal norms as ethnonational.15 As new studies on the construction of the Kosovo epic have already illustrated, nationally minded actors from Serbia and Montenegro selected certain epic songs which had not been widespread among the people, disregarding others in the process, and they based their decision on their personal preferences. In doing so, they were inventing tradition.16

Folklore, however, did not constitute a foundation on which the nascent nation-states rested. Rather, the construction of the national narrative erected a foundation which in turn rested on studies and appropriation of oral traditions.17 Medievalism was closely linked to this process, which offered a framework for constructing continuity between the recent past and the distant past. By viewing the present through the prism of the medieval past (the continuing process of creating the Middle Ages), the elites sought to link the past, the present, and the future.18 This primordial character is palpable in the myth of Kosovo. It included historical and fictional characters and a whole cycle of epic poems in which the imagined Serbian community was presented as having been enslaved ever since they had lost the battle to the Ottomans. Three characters dominate the narrative: Prince Lazar (who died during the struggle, thus passing into eternal life by sacrificing his life for the imagined community); Miloš Obilić (a knight who killed the Ottoman Sultan, thereby displaying his courage and loyalty to his prince and nation), and Vuk Branković (who allegedly betrayed the prince, his father-in-law, and left the battle, thus deserting the army). The poems that referred to the myth and other subsequent events contained messages of moral principles, loyalties, bravery, infidelity, camaraderie, and an eternal fight between the imagined Christian/Serb and Muslim/Turk.

By surrendering life as a Christian martyr, one became a national martyr, meaning that the elites tended to blur the boundaries between state-fostered and local cultures.19 The canon of martyrs was weaponized against the Ottoman Empire. A newly constructed site of the invented tradition was located: the cradle of Serb-hood, Kosovo, which functioned as something between the place of mourning, memory, and mobilization.20 Binary opposition revolved around the myth, which inspired revenge and the nation’s rebirth.21 After making the 500th anniversary of the battle a state holiday in Serbia in 1889, the governing elites organized annual services on the day of the battle, which falls on the day of St. Vitus, hence Vidovdan. On the same day, they prepared the “memorial to Serbian fighters who died for their faith and homeland,” which raised the eyebrows among the Ottoman Hamidian elites.22

In Montenegro, the ecclesiastical powers also prepared a memorial service. Yet, the Montenegrin government did not publicize the memorial service by nurturing good relations with the Ottoman Empire. As a result, the imagined Muslim Albanian began to occupy the first place in the public discourse.23 In Montenegro, the myth claimed that its inhabitants were the direct offspring of the Serbs who had fled from Kosovo after 1389, finding refuge in the nearly inaccessible mountains, the unconquered fortress of the imagined Serb-hood and the Orthodoxy. Montenegrin soldiers were identified as sons of Miloš Obilić, so the highest military decoration carried his name. While discussing colonization measures in post-Ottoman areas after the Balkans Wars (1912–13), the Montenegrin Minister of the Interior used the same expressions that invoked the primordial narrative by referring to “the centuries-old silenced Serb hearths,” implying that they should be reawakened.24 Thus, this myth might take varying forms within the Montenegrin and Serbian public discourses, because Montenegro and Serbia “did not share the idea of liberating the oppressed Serbs, nor do we now share it,” as a Montenegrin official writes.25

The Montenegrin cap, which most of the soldiers wore, allegedly symbolized this narrative. This small and circular headgear consisting of a black part on the sides conveyed the message of mourning for the overthrown medieval homeland. In contrast, the red part on the top signified the blood. In addition to the king’s initials or cross on the top, five gold semicircles of a rising sun symbolized the five centuries since the Battle of Kosovo. A child would wear the cap as soon as (s)he stopped spending time in the cradle. A Norwegian officer noticed that this cap reminded a Montenegrin sailor of his homeland and people, and it was as vital to the Montenegrin as a national flag.26 But this myth in the Serbian context was also introduced in elementary and high schools, where children learned how to become honest, hardworking subjects like their national heroes.27 As outsider accounts and ego-documents illustrate, a Montenegrin or Serbian peasant or boy heard about the heroes before entering the barracks or participating in drills. While witnessing military training in Montenegro (1903), a contemporary made the claim that heroism filled a prominent place in the mind of the average Montenegrin. Montenegrins conceptualized these figures like celebrities, and these celebrities became a constituent part of their communicative and social memories.28

Thus, military discipline stood in a clear interdependent relationship with other social disciplines due to the elites’ various centralization processes. In Serbia, certain military buildings or units were named after these national heroes. The regiments celebrated the days on which the heroes died their heroic deaths, which then became their Patron Saint Days, or they participated in ceremonies surrounding the erection of monuments of these heroes.29 This ensured the performance and staging of the past, which were manners of reexperiencing it or inventing it for contemporaries.30 Since all people are mortal and all heroes are people, heroes must die, but a soldier would be admired after death. Death was one form of the heroic deed, and the average soldier could become either a heroic fallen figure or the person who paid tribute to the fallen hero by honoring his sacrifice. On the Patron Saints Day, he had to hear about and remember his unit’s fallen heroes/brothers.31

In the Ottoman context, heroes were used as figures in the constructing of a linear historical narrative (from the thirteenth century to the twentieth). Army recruits, for instance, were supposed to be able to name a few famous heroes. The public discourse linted the national tradition with the oral tradition. This reached its peak in Republican Turkey.32 One nevertheless notices a rigid hierarchy among these heroes, which emphasized masculine values. For instance, the rank and file would hear about Bayezid I (1389–1402) and his achievements at the height of the Battle of Kosovo, when the charge he led against the stronger enemy decided the outcome of the battle. Then, they might listen to the story of Adil the Corporal, who “was always looking for opportunities to serve his army.” Ottoman forces could easily maintain their hold on the castle due to his self-sacrifice during the siege of Nagykanizsa (1601). Of course, Adil stood under the command of another hero, Tiryaki Hasan Pasha, who “showed the whole world the greatness of the Ottomans in persistence and courage, loyalty and obedience to their superiors.”33 Thus, by learning about the military successes of these figures, the soldiers were supposed to learn the importance of sacrifice, endurance, discipline, intelligence, morale, loyalty, and courage.34

However, in contrast to the other cases, some Ottoman officers put particular emphasis on the deeds of heroines such as Kara Fatma. Kara Fatma was depicted as a lioness (dişi arslan), and in the officers’ narrative she was presented as a defender of the homeland and nation and as a mother of children who defended the homeland and nation. She encompassed both masculinity and femininity. During the siege of Erzurum (1877), Kara Fatma took care of Ottoman soldiers, brought water and food, carried the wounded on her shoulders, bandaged their woods, and took part in the fight. The underlining message is that only lions could bear from such women and that the martyr cemeteries also had graves where women lay buried.35 One should not, however, that this image of Kara Fatma was only one of many. Various (non-patriotic) versions of a Kara Fatma emerged in the Ottoman discourse fields beginning in the early nineteenth century.36 Still, the extent to which Ottoman officers used songs to encourage soldiers to emulate images of physical and emotional strength remains unknown. Some officers indeed complained after 1908 that the soldiers lacked physical and emotional strength.37 Scholars have already stressed that Ottoman soldiers also sang non-patriotic ballads (türküler). Erik Jan Zürcher assumes that perhaps the relatively high morale among the Ottoman soldiers during World War I might have been rooted in these ballads, in the sense of having nothing to lose.38

It was necessary to create this “social choreography” by crafting rousing narratives of heroic deeds because these narratives, it was hoped, would help supress undesirable respinses to the negative outcomes of military service. The officers sought to hail the draft as a rite of passage through which the imagined youth became a real man. The masculinizing effect of the draft was supposed to instill in the recruits virtues such as courage.39 However, many recruits entered the Serbian and Ottoman barracks with specific fears brought from home. They were told that excessive austerity reigned in the barracks and that the soldiers were severely punished when they made minor mistakes. As Serbian officers noted, this fear initially sprouted confusion. It then interfered with successful basic training, since the recruits were beset with feelings of sadness and longings for their kin.40

Some recruits chose to flee the army before they were ever actually called on to serve in the field, as many archival examples illustrate, not least because former soldiers and their neighbors told them how recruits were being treated in the Ottoman army. They would also leave after discovering that they might end up in Ottoman Anatolia, Hijaz, or Yemen, far from their loved ones. The regions were well-known for their hot climate, stormy conditions in the barracks, distance, and rebellions.41 By using images and narratives of heroic deeds and martyrs, the governments tried to underline positive notions about military service in order to nationalize and sacralize it.42 Singing, for instance, was a tested strategy in the Serbian case, since the officers noticed how singing helped calm fears and other unwelcome emotions among the recruits, and they combined it with marching. Some officers deliberately chose soldiers who could sing folk tunes or songs about heroes and had them mix with the newer recruits.43

Images and narratives about heroic deeds also paved the way for the establishment of a “primary group” in the military. The primary group had two principal functions to maintain morale for combat: (i) “It enforced group standards of behavior, and it supported and sustained the individual [faced with] stress[es] he would otherwise not have been able to withstand” and (ii) “the group enforced its standards principally by offering or withholding recognition, respect, and approval […], while the subjective reward for following an internalized group code enhanced an individual’s resources for dealing with the situation.”44 Here, the trope of camaraderie (druželjublje or kardeşlik, uhuvvet, alay arkadaşlığı) emerged, which was supposed to further socialization within the ranks of the military and to last even after military service had ended.45 Not only could this include other soldiers from different military branches, but it also embraced (for instance in the post-1908 Ottoman setting) all those who were not part of the military regardless of their national or confessional belonging.46 To aptly illustrate “the most beautiful image of loyalty and fidelity,” Serbian officers drew on epic songs and the image of Miloš Obilić, the epitome of all that was desirable in the military. Together with his two blood-brothers (Ivan Kosančić and Milan Toplica), Obilić had allegedly slaughtered the Ottoman sultan in the battle of Kosovo (1389), thereby killing many enemies before being “gloriously” dying in the process.47 Songs that ignited the military spirit and kindled a sense of camaraderie were part of the repertoire, and the Serbian NCOs often reminded soldier sof these heroes when teaching them how to use weapons.48

Further research would be necessary to determine the extent to which the establishment of the primary group was successful, but sources indicate that this was a challenging process for myriad reasons.49 The sense of camaraderie between the rank and file and their superiors, however, fostered a rigid hierarchization and the assigned patriarchal roles among them, which subdued the masculinizing effect of the draft. Military units were viewed as a new family (yeni bir aile gibi or kao porodica), in which the commander was considered one of many soldiers’ fathers. At the same time, their peers were seen as younger brothers.50 The NCOs, who in the Ottoman army were referred to as the soldiers’ “godfathers” (büyük baba), were supposed to “complete the education my father lacked” and teach the recruits how to become the true men. One of their most essential duties consisted of keeping their “children” healthy, which some soldiers expected them to do, and thus the soldiers also cared about their “fathers.”51 Older soldiers played the role of fathers who accepted the newcomers as their children, although only if the soldiers would dutifully act like brothers. In the Montenegrin and Serbian cases, the insistence of the importance of obeying one’s superiors was justified with the reference to the notion that disobedience and threason had ruined the medieval Serbian empire and “thrown Serbs into powerlessness and slavery [which lasted for] 500 years.”52 Unity was crucial in times of war, when a tremendous psychological mobilization was necessary, and when the NCOs and junior officers played a vital role in maintaining their units as parts of an effective fighting force, as studies have shown in the context of the Western Front during World War I.53

But in the Montenegrin and Serbian contexts, there were historical figures who, in the narratives, embodied the vices of treason and desertion, whereas in the Ottoman case, the figure of the deserter was faceless. Drawing on the lore, Serbian and Montenegrin officers depicted deserters, embodied in Vuk Branković, as the most despised persons. They sought to establish this image in the minds of the soldiers, too, since Serbian mothers, like their Ottoman counterparts, only gave birth to future heroes and lions. Vuk Braković was ideal for this role, because he allegedly left at the most crucial moment of the battle with his knights, betraying their brothers in arms. That is why this “cursed” Vuk was labeled as an infidel and oath breaker.54 The message was that it was better to die gloriously, like other heroes, than to betray everyone and live shamefully like the “damned” Vuk, whom the Ottomans soon killed him anyway. Not only was the soldiers’ masculinity but also his honor was at stake.55 An Ottoman officer sought to convey that those who absconded had neither a place among the people nor any honor. They were ungrateful cowards (nankör alçak) and a burden on the imagined homeland (vatanın yükü).56

The Serbian officers also sought to transmit desired values and certain functions by describing the deaths of these people or by citing the epic songs which made mention of their fates, such as that of Boško Jugović, one of nine brothers who died in the Battle of Kosovo while defending the greatest military shrine, the flag. Losing the flag also meant losing military honor, like in the Ottoman case in which the story of the standard-bearer Ali was supposed to illustrate the importance of the flag.57 Yet, if a regiment was distinguished by heroism or managed to steal the enemy’s flag, their chief father decorated either their regimental flag with an order or a medal for bravery or decorated their soldiers personally. This decoration was supposed to make the latter proud of serving in a particular regiment.58 Sometimes this was a calculated policy since the elites and officers realized that the passion for decorations in the Montenegrin setting could be used to pit certain kinship fraternities against each other. If a soldier was honored for heroism, he wore a medal for bravery every day, even if he was plowing or mowing the fields.59

Uses of images and narratives of heroism differed in the Serbian and the Montenegrin context due to the military organization of these countries. While the modernization of the Serbian military generally drew on the Prussian model, serving in the militia became the rule in Montenegro.60 Officers and the NCOs, who might know the people being drafted, directed the military exercises, which varied depending on the season. The role of the Montenegrin military fathers could be limited, since they had to negotiate often with their soldiers (who could turn violent if their superiors struck them) more often than their peers in the Serbian army.61 Moreover, the Montenegrin military relied on the state-led tribalization policies, since its organization revolved around the family and village structure. Depending on the context, this situation could both facilitate and repress the feeling of military superiority and subordination. The rank and file and the officers would instead “[agree] on something, whereby a very exact compliance with such agreements may not be expected,” as a Habsburg military attaché wrote during the Balkan Wars.62

Through images of heroic, a soldier in the Serbian and Ottoman armies was told that if he were to die, ecclesiastical authorities would pray for his soul, and his family and the whole imagined community would praise his heroic death and merits. Both king and sultan would take care of the soldier’s family, which would have God’s blessing, and thus they would prosper. A similar narrative was given for those who did not betray their military oath. They were assured that they would be respected and rewarded here on earth. Thus, by sacrificing their lives, the rank and file became members of the pantheon of heroes whose deeds would never be forgotten.63 Yet upholding this social contract lay at the heart of relations between the state and the soldiers. Hence, the state had to care for the soldiers’ families while their male relatives were at the front. Failure to fulfill this duty threw everything into question, as examples from World War I in the context of Montenegro amply illustrate.64 In some cases, this part of the contract came first, and only then came the tacitly signed agreement between the soldiers and the state, the foundation of which was the state’s obligation to provide food, equipment, and lodging and to ensure that superiors treated their inferiors with due respect. Were this contract broken, this could create serious problems for the state, since soldiers could flee or become unmotivated to fight.65

The heroes’ death offered the soldier and his family a chance to accommodate the human cost of the war in a vision of historical continuity, similar to British or German contexts amid and after World War I.66 In this regard, the combination of the locals and state-driven cultural norms is evident, because in certain parts of Montenegro, for instance, a detailed oral tradition among the kinship fabrics preserved the memory of the local heroes. It functioned as a memory bank, the canon of which the state authorities sought to control. Moreover, the local norms enculturated young males into their roles as warriors.67 It is doubtful whether this narrative motivated the soldiers during the war. For instance, German soldiers made jokes about the idea of the Heldentod after seeing the front during World War I. Yet some Serbian ego-documents show that some soldiers had used this idea to come to the terms with the deaths of their comrades or to comfort the soldiers’ mothers.68

Keeping in mind the period under examination, officers did not start from anything. Ideally, they only extended and added new meanings to the previously established social view of the population, meaning the population’s education only continued in the barracks.69 The primary efforts were undertaken in the pre-military and post-military life, in which the roles of birth parents, civil officials, paramilitary leaders, teachers, and clergymen were equally important.70 Indeed, not every Serbian peasant (the peasantry made up around 80 percent of the rank and file) found it amusing to spend several months in the barracks and swap his freedom for strict discipline. Even before 1912, national belonging in Serbia had not yet penetrated the broader layers of the population. Not everyone knew of or identified with the elites’ ambitious and imperialistic plans.71

Yet the state had succeeded by 1912 in one thing: by launching systematic public mobilization, it convinced its subjects that military service was one of their many assigned duties. Thus, “everything has been called up from the 17th to the 50th year of life” for the Balkan Wars, and in doings so, the authorities did not face any significant challenges. However, during the first weeks, both military service and the war itself were not enthusiastically praised by everyone, implying that this consensus of the peasantry cannot be interpreted as a national consensus.72

Nevertheless, one notices the uniformity of the image of the heroic among the Serbian social disciplines, a uniformity which was lacking in the pre-1913 Ottoman context—hinging on the ideological context and intellectual background of various actors, the consistency of the Ottoman heroic narrative before, during, and after military service is missing. While officers spoke about the soldiers, viziers, and sultan who had expended and defended the political borders of or laid down their lives for the imagined community, others (such as pan-Turkish intellectuals) would focus on the pre-Islamic pagan Turkic world.73 For example, in some parts of the Ottoman province of Kosovo, Muslim subjects had a distinct understanding of local heroes, whose self-sacrifice was praised. Still, their inner essence was not a national essence but rather was essentially confessional.74 In the Serbian and Montenegrin cases, the school and the military inculcated in the subjects of the state a deeply national sense of memory. The mental images became icons, stories, and myths the most significant feature of which was their persuasiveness.75 In the barracks, the officers and NCOs adhered to the medievalism of the past together as priests. However, not everyone was moved by this narrative since not everyone was interested in listening to the epic songs in school.76

As the 1900 and 1901 infantry curriculum openly advises, “when the soldiers are together, and when the weather is poor, heroic folk songs are to be read to them more often.” The more they were subjected to the latter, the more they absorbed this narrative as being natural.77 This “tradition,” as an officer calls it, excited and moticated the soldier. It “aroused courage and the desire for revenge and the return of the glory and greatness of the Serbs,” thereby uplifting and filling their chests, souls, and hearts with Serbian history, Serbian lands, pleasure, and the aspiration to be celebrated in the heroic struggle.78 By singing songs and reading about heroic ancestors, the officers tended to remodel a soldier’s perception of revenge and honor along the ethnonational line since the goal was to awaken the soldier’s desire for glory. Thus, a local’s sense of honor was entangled with the military, the imagined homeland, and his birth family. In this regard, any material gain was supposed to lose its value.79

The military fathers sought to control the soldiers’ emotions by constructing a narrative of collective trauma fueled by experiences of the pain and suffering of the imagined community. They acted as symbolic or cultural creators in the symbolic-cum-emotional representation of social suffering.80 As they heard this same narrative before, during, and after the military service/drill, Montenegrin or Serbian soldiers were expected to be eager seek revenge and reclaim the lost glory of the imagined medieval Serbian homeland. They were taught to look through the primordial perspective at the constructed past, which resonated on the eve of and during the Balkan Wars.81 This narrative represented the testament of Kosovo, and the soldiers would obtain eternal glory by being addressed as the avengers of Kosovo, like those who fell on the battlefield in 1389. This notion was also passed on during the literacy classes in the military. The narrative was embodied in the phrase concerning “our” five-century-old oppressor or enemy, which various Slavic-speaking Christians (both male and female) appropriated when filing petitions to the government.82 Since 1389, the imagined Turk had been killing, robbing, and demolishing the personal property of the imagined brethren. This “oppressor” committed an array of outrages acts, including desecrating places of worship, burning and mocking God, and selling Serbian brethren as slaves.83

Thus, through the heroic, the purpose of the military was to reify the construction of “the political enemy” since acting politically meant distinguishing friend from foe. A state exists as a political entity if it can make this distinction and fight the enemy in an emergency.84 Although the construction of an enemy in the Ottoman case is apparent, the enemies of the Empire remained rather faceless. The overarching message was to be ready to protect the imagined homeland (vatanı beklemek), which was intertwined with one’s honor and confessional loyalty.85

A soldier in Serbia also learned about how lucky he and his birth family were to live in this golden freedom. This narrative was essential in the domestic context (as it provided a tool with which to legitimize the rule of the elites, much as similar narratives had done earlier in France and the Habsburg Monarchy), and the later “international” context (as it provided motivation to restore freedom for and protect the imagined brethren).86 In the case of the larger international context, the narrative helped nurture the belief in the necessity of a “defensive” war against the Ottoman Empire within its territories.87 This narrative of an imperialistic war affected some Serbian and Montenegrin subjects. Like many British soldiers who fought in France during World War I, so too did Montenegrin soldiers during the Balkans Wars travel from the USA to fight “for the liberation of our oppressed brothers from a five-century-old enemy” in the first months of the Balkan Wars.88 Thus, educating the rank and file, mapping the imagined national territory, and fostering national loyalty were intertwined. In the Ottoman context, this involved references to battles in which heroes died or became famous.89

Depending on a soldier’s place of birth, Serbian officers would deliberately emphasize in their narratives a hero who had hailed from the same area as the soldiers. Hajduk Veljko was used as a figure in narratives intended to remodel recruits from the eastern provinces. Having died fighting against the Ottoman army in the First Serbian Uprising (1804–1813), he was similar to Miloš Obilić and other Kosovo heroes.90 The same strategy was utilized after the “liberated Serbian” brethren from the Prilep region (post-Ottoman Macedonia) began to serve under the banner in early 1914. In their case, Marko Kraljević was a hero, a historical person from the Middle Ages whose palace was in Prilep.91 Officers were so determined in their role as so-called educators that one of these recruits wrote in a censored letter, “we are dead sick when they tell us about Kraljević Marko.”92 Still, others identified themselves with the latter. While passing through some populated areas in late 1914, the Macedonian recruits boasted publicly that they were descendants of Marko Kraljević and were going to “liberate” Habsburg Bosnia.93

The practice of disparaging those who did not follow this narrative as lower men and expecting the soldiers to become heroes implies that the military distinguished this type of masculinity from other forms. All other men had to position themselves to the heroes. Hence, one could speak about hegemonic masculinity, whereby hegemony signifies the displacement of other forms of masculinity by this form, which was praised in the military as the norm. The idealized view of masculinity was used to construct the perfect self-image of the nation.94 Having been “the healthiest, strongest and youngest—the most capable of all the other people in our nation,” the masculine men’s bodies, which now embodied the heroic values, served as weapons to defeat the imagined enemy.95 The calling of the soldiers was difficult in peace times, and much more so in times of war. Soldiers had to endure harsh conditions, because they had to be in good health, have sturdy body, “male” strength, and a strong will.96 This notion of endurance also applied to those who fell into enemy hands, as they were expected to remain loyal. If they had complied or surrendered themselves, they were regarded as traitors and perjurers, meaning their national obligation did not cease after capture or defeat.97

But the hegemonic military masculinity, which played a role in the war, did not always correspond to actual worlds of the locals. It was not fixed but was embedded in specific environments. Locally seen, it was metaphorically represented through the interplay of specific masculine practices that had local significance.98 Thus, alternative masculinities were critical and could be defined as anti-types of the hegemonic model, including with respect to non-core groups.99 However, the reading of masculinities among the Ottoman subjects did not overlap with the reading of masculinities among the ruling elites. For instance, in the Lower Vasojevići, an area located in the Montenegrin-Ottoman borderland in the province of Kosovo, the Slavic-speaking Christians of the Vasojevići brotherhoods at certain times despised other Christians who did not belong to their kin. They viewed them as less worthy. They labeled them as Srblji, Srbljaci, or (H)Ašani (Tr. aşağı, meaning inferior) since they were regarded as not sufficiently manly. This term possessed a derogatory and subordinating reading like Arnautash, Grecoman, or Bulgarofil.100

One finds a similar narrative concerning the imagined Serbian (Srbijanac) from Serbia, who, given the state policy, could not carry a weapon publicly, which in the eyes of a Vasojević conveyed the message that they were also less worthy.101 This narrative was evident when a Montenegrin officer saw the official headgear (šajkača) of the Serbian army in Peć/Peja, a town which during the Balkans Wars (1912–13) was occupied by the Montenegrin army. After noticing that a certain number of the new rank and file consisted of the local Slavic-speaking Christians wearing the šajkača, the officer instructed them to buy the fez, “because you are not a soldier under that hat.”102 The authorities dubbed the headgear as a hat for scum (fukarska kapa), ordering even the locals not to display it on threat of arrest. Wearing the latter was interwoven with the notion of (hegemonic) masculinity or honor, and offending this notion could easily incite dispute or physical violence and could even push one to become a brigand.103

Sources do not reveal the extent to which these locally grounded hegemonic masculinities hampered the nationalization attempts of these polities; however, the case of the Romani population aptly shows that this could be possible. The word “Gypsy” in Montenegro had offensive connotations, and one could be prosecuted for using the term. Still, this did not stop the authorities from using it during World War I when they compared infectious diseases with this hidden non-core grouping.104 Allegedly, in the Montenegrin-Ottoman borderlands, only the Romani wanted to become blacksmiths, since the vocation was considered a disgrace, and those who practiced this trade were labeled the lowest people. In Serbia, most peasants did not want to make a sink or become trumpet players. That is why the Romani were generally appointed in the military as buglers.105 In the Serbian army, some soldiers did not want to eat together with the Romani soldiers, since the Romani were equated with the notion of filthiness and illness, as an officer recalls.106 In short, this means that pre-military prejudices were becoming embedded into the military, though the ruling elites made efforts minimize this.

Conclusion

By paying heed to the soldiers’ performance in the barracks and on the battlefield, and their voice fragments in sources during the Balkan Wars and World War I, one realizes that while some rejected the notions of heroism presented in the narratives offered by the state and the surround cultural milieu, others embraced these notions. Why this was the case and whether these narratives had long-term consequences are questions that can only be addressed with further research. In Montenegro, the Ottoman Empire, and Serbia, the heroic narratives shared many features with other heroic narratives in other parts of Eurasia. One could consider the Prussian context, where the ideal of the hero was intended to “put [men] in a frame to mind to fight, to kill and die willingly ‘for the fatherland.’” In addition to using notions of heroism to justify war, the Prussian elites presented imagined heroes “as role models for ‘average men.’” Hence, these visions occupied a special place in the collective commemoration of national warrior heroes.107 The was true to some extent in the French and Russian settings, where officers also used the medieval past, the heroic epics, national flags, and the military oaths as tools with which to foster the homogenization of recruits.108

These policies were supposed to enhance what George Moose calls “the Myth of the War Experience,” which presented the war as a meaningful and even secret event and included the people as active participants in the national quest through rites, festivals, myths, and symbols.109 The processes by which notions of heroism were adapted to new settings and the transformations of the narratives in which these notions found expression in these settings are also interesting. One could consider the Yugoslav case, where the officers used the same imagined heroes of the Serbian army in the contemporary context because they remained the “heads” of specific military units in the early 1920s.110 The national feature of the “Serb lands,” the boundaries of which the heroes had to reify before 1912, simply changed after 1918, becoming the new boundaries of the Yugoslav state, or “all the lands where our nation lives.”111 This change aptly illustrates that “the national-patriotic discourse simply manipulated, transposed and modelled itself on an existing set of symbols, metaphors and rituals.”112 The extent the heroic mitigated or furthered the development of a unified Yugoslav military culture in the interwar period remains to be answered.

But the success of the tropes concerning heroism as tools with which to foster loyalty and devotion to the military and the state also depended on what David M. Edelstein calls “the strategies of inducement,” which were intended to buy and maintain the population’s loyalty (i.e., tax exemptions, agrarian reform, welfare policies, financial and food assistance). It was essential for the elites to improve and support the wellbeing of the subjects if they sought to legitimize their rule or engagement in a conflict and ensure that their subjects did not lose heart.113 Soldiers and their families were looking for something tangible in return for shedding their blood (or losing their fathers, sons, and brothers) for the imagined community. Emphasis on the ideological essence of a given political push (for instance, emphasis on the importance of the national cause as a justification for a military campaign) is not enough to ensure the loyalty of the wider population or of the rank-and-file members of the army if material benefits are not provided. Through these strategies and the interdependence of the political and the material, the governments attracted locals to their armies. Hence, the latter knew how to win something for themselves and their families in exchange for their support for the war.114

Conceptualized as part of government practice, these strategies must be seen as a form of activity with which ruling elites sought to shape, lead, and influence their subjects.115 When one combines the strategies of inducement and the ideological techniques introduced above during and after military service and the coercive methods used with the subjects’ consent, it becomes clear that the state’s mobilization efforts never revolved around one strategy. In other words, they did not rely exclusively on national or confessional fervors. Instead, it was the interdependent use of an array of mobilization tools that yielded results. These factors worked together in complex interplay, and they had a powerful effect on the population, although varying success in varying contexts. Methodologically, it is not feasible to gauge which particular strategy counted more than the others.116 Thus, the elites had to approach and adjust to the subjects’ expectations and ways of acting.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank two anonymous peer-reviewers for their critical remarks, suggestions, and comments on the final version of the paper.

Archival Sources

Arhiv Bosne i Hercegovine, Sarajevo [Archive of Bosnia and Herzegovina] (ABH)

Zemaljska vlada (ZVS)

Arhiv Jugoslavije, Beograd [Archive of Yugoslavia] (AJ)

Ministarstvo unutrašnjih dela (14)

Cumhurbaşkanlığı Devlet Arşivleri, Istanbul [Presidency State Archives] (CDA)

Dahiliye Nezareti Mektubî Kalemi (DH.MKT)

Vojni arhiv, Beograd [Military Archive of Serbia] (VA)

Popisnik 2 = Arhiv Prvog i Drugog balkanskog rata (1912–13)

Popisnik 3 = Arhiv srpske Vrhovne komande (1914–20)

Popisnik 6 = Ratna arhiva divizija i divizijskih oblasti (1914–20)

Popisnik 14 = Arhiva vojske Kraljevine Srbije do Balkanskih ratova (1847–1911)

Državni arhiv Srbije, Beograd [State Archives of Serbia] (DAS)

Ministarstvo inostranih dela, Političko-prosvetno odeljenje (MID PPO)

Ministarstvo inostranih dela, Političko odeljenje (MID PPO)

Državni arhiv Crne Gore, Cetinje [State Archives of Montenegro] (DACG)

Ministarstvo inostranih djela (MID)

Ministarstvo unutrašnjih djela, Upravno odjeljenje (MUD–UO)

Ministarstvo vojno, Vojni sudovi (MV–VS)

Političko-pogranični komeserijat Žabljak (PPKŽ)

Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Kriegsarchiv, Vienna (ÖStA)

Allerhöchster Oberbefehl Chef des Generalstabs (AhOB GSt)

Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin (PA AA)

RZ 201 (1867-1919) R 14218: Türkei 203, Balkankrieg (1912–13)

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* This article was written as part of a doctoral dissertation funded by the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD, Graduate School Scholarship Program #57320205) entitled “Heroes, Traitors, and Survivors in the Borderlands of Empires: Military Mobilizations and Local Communities in the Sandžak (1900s–1920s).” The project was done at the Chair for Southeast-European History of Humboldt University of Berlin and the Berlin Graduate School Muslim Cultures and Societies of the Free University Berlin.

In the second half of the nineteenth century, the Habsburg government had a very complicated task of inventing some form of supranational identity as an alternative to nationalist programs in Cisleithania. It sought to craft this supranational identity first and foremost as part of the self-images of schoolchildren as future citizens. One of the major ways to create and solidify a notion of a common “Austrian” identity in school history classes was to highlight the Habsburg wars, triumphal and bloody battles, and military heroes as reminders of an integrated supranational past. Official instructions obliged teachers to emphasize the “heroic times of Austria,” its “glorious battles,” and its “valiant wars,” as emphasis on these episodes of the past, it was hoped, would further the development of “the idea of the integrated statehood in Austria.” In this article, I offer an example of this cult of the Austrian wars in school education by the ways in which the wars fought during the early period of Francis Joseph’s rule, namely, the Sardinian war of 1859 and the Seven Weeks’ War of 1866, were taught to later generations of schoolchildren. Ironically, the fact that Austria lost these wars was humiliating. Nevertheless, during the late period of Francis Joseph’s rule, narratives and visual depictions of the events of these wars in schoolbooks strongly contributed to the formation of a heroic image of the Austrian army and to the idea of just Habsburg rule. I focus in my discussion first on how the accounts of the wars in schoolbooks deviated from the historical facts and, second, on how these accounts nonetheless furthered the emergence of the “Austrian” identity.

Keywords: Habsburg Monarchy, Austria-Hungary, Francis Joseph, supranational identity, history of education, schoolbooks, history lessons

 

Fans of Habsburg history may well remember the story of Joseph von Trotta, “the Hero of Solferino,” from The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth. Trotta was appalled by an imprecise narrative about the battle of Solferino (1859) found in a schoolbook, which grossly overstated his own actions and represented them as great heroic deeds. Trotta found the situation intolerable, although people around him, including the emperor himself, delicately explained him that the story “is for children,” and “all historic events are rewritten for school use.” Moreover, they assured him, this was the “proper” way of doing things.1

It is true that history schoolbooks represent a peculiar type of source. Like hardly any other medium, schoolbooks, which remain formative teaching aids in history instruction and civic education, convey official and quasi-official images of history to certain age groups of children and young people within the compulsory schooling setting.2 Given their broad impact, schoolbooks have long been used in the service of the prevailing ideology and rhetoric. Political elites quickly understood that national memory could be most easily constructed in history classes which presented current issues in their (alleged or constructed) historical context. They also realized that public mass schooling inculcated a sense of national unity in pupils, as well as loyalty and obedience.3 For these reasons, history schoolbooks were broadly used by European governments as early as the nineteenth century in the invention and consolidation of a previously non-existent sense of national cohesion.4

Scholarship on civic education in Europe and the United States shows that many states saw public education as an essential tool for crafting national identity and national loyalty, which were by no means innate, the claims of primordialists notwithstanding. Eugene Weber and James Lehning argued that schools were a central force in cultivation of the patriotic loyalty of future French citizens.5 Troy Paddock claims that public education in imperial Germany served as a robust tool to build loyalty to the newly founded united empire.6 Paula Fass and Christina Ziegler-McPherson show that American educators of the nineteenth century utilized English and history courses in order to Americanize a diverse population and create a sense of loyalty to the state.7 Similar efforts were made to Russify and nurture patriotic sentiment among the subjects of the polyethnic Russian Empire.8

The creation of a patriotic and loyal citizenry was likewise one of the main concerns of the Habsburg government in Austria-Hungary. The Habsburg Monarchy faced the complicated task of inventing some form of supranational identity as an alternative to the programs of national elites, who had challenged the state’s cohesion. The government identity politics exemplified an intended fabrication of history and myths to be used first and foremost to shape the self-images of schoolchildren as future citizens.9 Roth’s character was right when he complained about the “pack of lies” in his son’s reader: historical images in schoolbooks were narrated so as to foster patriotic feelings and dynastic loyalty in schoolchildren, and as part of this, exaggerations and understatements were not only permissible, but even welcome.

Habsburg identity politics and its effects on the society of the Dual Monarchy have long been the focus of academic discussion. Many prominent scholars published works on the development of Habsburg culture and civil society with a focus on the complexity of national identity.10 Their findings have led to a crucial revision of the previous assessments in the nationalist literature. The latter tended to define the Habsburg Empire as a kind of anacronism compared to the European nation states and a “prison of nations,”11 which appeared unable to address the nationality conflicts facing it in the nineteenth century. In contrast, revisionist studies offer strong evidence that the Empire and its institutions were of great importance for its population, which showed a high degree of engagement. The recent book by Pieter Judson on “how countless local societies across central Europe engaged with the Habsburg dynasty’s efforts to build a unified and unifying imperial state”12 summarizes the most important finding of the revisionist works.

Moreover, the recent studies have shown that, despite their prominence in political parties, legislative institutions, and the press, national elites largely failed to awaken passionate attachments to national identity among the larger part of the population of Cisleithania.13 During the last decades of the Dual Monarchy, nationalists had to fight against apparent indifference to the national causes, and they were met with general loyalty to Habsburg non-national institutions and an embrace of multilingualism in the public and private spheres. Many researchers have stressed the paradoxically sustainable phenomenon of massive loyalty to the emperor and the ruling dynasty, the so-called Kaisertreue, which contributed significantly to the cohesion of the Habsburg Empire and moved its peoples look for options to preserve the unified state.14 This loyalty to the multinational empire was largely due to the various measures adopted and implemented by the Habsburg government and administration. Although in the traditional (national) literature, these measures were usually assessed as too limited and backward as responses to the challenges posed in the era of nationalism15 (a view which is still shared by some recent researchers),16 the revisionists tend to attach greater value to the efforts of Habsburg officials to achieve cohesion among the population of the composite state. A number of excellent works examine commemoration and celebration practices in the Habsburg Empire as a means of fostering loyalties to the state and the dynasty, as well as “invented traditions” at the Viennese court and the complex array of symbols which were intended psychologically to consolidate the citizens of the monarchy.17

In 1849, the Habsburg government embarked on a program that would lead to the creation of the most advanced and cutting-edge state schooling system in Europe.18 The structure and core principles of this system, which included the principle of equal language rights, are discussed in detail by Helmut Engelbrecht, Gary Cohen, and Hannelore Burger.19 Other scholars consider the important issue of the certification and translation of schoolbooks in their studies, as well as the content of history textbooks that was appropriate and reliable in the view of the Viennese Ministry of Culture and Education.20 Scott Moore’s brilliant study explores how the civic education was utilized in Habsburg schools to cultivate the patriotism of its peoples and forge a complex, “layered” identity.21

One of the major themes of the patriotic version of the Habsburg past that was presented in schools was wars: narratives about the triumphal and bloody battles waged by the Austrian army and its military heroes were exploited as reminders of the shared supranational past of the Habsburg peoples. According to the Instructions for Classes in the Gymnasien of Austria (1884), emphasis was to be placed on “the heroic time of Austria” and “its glorious battles and valiant wars,” for they were “the moments through which the consciousness of common belonging to the peoples united under the scepter of Habsburgs” was awakened, and “the idea of an integral statehood in Austria” was developed.22 Stories about wars helped convey the memory of a common “glorious past under Habsburgs” through the emphasis that was placed on the triumphant battles, which had required united efforts. There was also room for mention of the bloodbaths and massacres that the the peoples of the monarchy had survived together and preserved in their collective memories as outrages and injustices inflicted by an external common enemy. Commemoration of the whole train of glorious military commanders who fought at the service of Habsburgs functioned as a means of offering narrative embodiments of the symbols of the “supranational” Austrian identity.23 Along with the military heroes Prince Eugène of Savoy and Archduke Karl (who were the figures of Habsburg military history who were the most vigorously glorified by the Viennese court), Joseph Radetzky developed into the most prominent military hero in imperial Austria as early as the mid-nineteenth century. The latter functioned, according to Laurence Cole, as “the symbol of a patriarchal, conservative, patriotic ideology that wished to subsume class and national conflicts within a discourse of loyalty.”24

In the discussion below, I focus on the narratives in Cisleithanian schoolbooks published between the 1860s and the 1910s about the wars in which the Austrian monarchy fought during the period of neo-absolutism, or in other words, the Austro-Sardinian war of 1859 and the Austro-Prussian-Italian war of 1866 (otherwise known as the Seven Weeks’ War). Both wars represented a vulnerable episode in the history of the Habsburg monarchy. The Habsburg forces failed miserably, suffering heavy losses, and the empire had to cede its vast Italian territories to Sardinia and its supremacy in the German Confederation to Prussia.25 Some researchers even consider the defeat at Königgrätz “the death of the army.”26 It is easy to exploit narratives concerning wars in which one’s country emerged victorious wars for the benefit of the image of a “Great and Powerful Fatherland” of which every citizen or subject is proud. But how did the authors of schoolbooks craft narratives about these lost wars, given that they had to reflect on the defeat but without downplaying or undermining the greatness of the Fatherland? Were there any strong deviations from historical facts? Which persons and episodes were singled out or overemphasized, and which were sidelined and obscured? And finally, did the authors managed to preserve the image of a great and glorious Austrian monarchy under the wise rule of Habsburgs?

The research on which I have based my conclusions draws largely on the collections of schoolbooks kept in the library of the Austrian Ministry of Education, Art, and Culture in Vienna. I used only schoolbooks that addressed relatively recent political events and contained narratives about the wars in question, which means that I used the schoolbooks designed for the last three years of Volksschulen and Bürgerschulen, for middle and upper classes of Gymnasien, and for the last two years of teacher training colleges. I went through roughly 60 units published with the official sanction of the imperial and royal Ministry of Culture and Education. However, in the discussion below, I cite a limited number of these sources, as most of the units appeared to be unchanged reissues of the same narratives. The fact is, the Viennese Ministry was very vigilant about the narratives included in schoolbooks. A thorough inspection by ministerial officials preceded the decree of official approval to publish or reissue a particular schoolbook or translation, and only then could the schoolbook in question be used in schools.27 Close attention was paid to the political views of the people who compiled textbooks, and the range of compilers was, therefore, relatively limited. Partly for this reason, textbooks were reissued eight to ten times on average and translated, most often from German, into the languages of the different nationalities. Translations were welcomed by the Viennese Ministry, as they offered the reassurance that textbooks in the national languages also met the political requirements of the imperial center.28

The authors of the upper level schoolbooks were professional historians who taught in Gymnasien and often held posts as university professors. Dr Theodor Tupetz, for example, the author of the schoolbooks cited in this article, had an impressive career, serving as a school inspector but eventually moving up to the position of court counselor. As professional teachers and historians, the authors of schoolbooks had their own views of historical events, which influenced the narratives they wrote, although they had to adhere to ministerial instructions and regulations. After the Compromise of 1867, some competences, including the compilation, translation, and distribution of textbooks, were transferred to the crownlands. Not all crownlands and languages were treated equally, however. While in Galicia, for example, the textbook certification system came under the control of the Polish-dominated Galician parliament,29 Slovenian-language textbooks remained completely under the supervision of the Viennese Ministry until the fall of the monarchy.30 In both cases, however, the final decision on approval was made in Vienna. Although the state publishing house in Vienna lost its monopoly to publish textbooks and schoolbooks were then published by private publishers (especially middle and upper level schoolbooks), the Ministry of Culture and Education in Vienna continued to supervise their content and language design.31

The narratives about the wars of 1859 and 1866 that I analyze in this article are mostly taken from the textbooks in German. Despite the December constitution of 1867 and the school reform of 1869, the language of instruction in many Gymnasien was still German, while the number of secondary schools with a minority language of instruction was growing slowly. In many cases, the books by German authors approved by the Viennese Ministry of Culture and Education were simply translated into the required language, and this was especially true for schools with Slovene and Italian as languages of instruction.32 Even in Galicia, where local authorities exerted a significant influence on the design of the educational system, the first Ruthenian-language history textbook that was translated not from German (but rather from Polish) was only published in 1895.33 Thus, narratives from the textbooks in German, I would argue, are representative for the whole picture of the way in which the history of the Austrian wars in question was taught in Cisleithanian secondary schools. However, I also offer a few samples of narratives in Czech and Romanian languages for comparison. I tried to compare the narratives from three perspectives: the alleged causes of the wars, the course of the wars, and the outcomes of the wars. I also focus on the style and biases of the narratives.

In the Austrian textbooks published in the second half of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth, the names of the wars differed from those used in contemporary literature. The Austro-Sardinian War of 1859 was most often referred to simply as the “war against Austria” or “the Italian War,” and the Seven Week’s War was called the “Prussian war.” The first mentions of the Sardinian war (1859) appeared in the schoolbooks as early as 1864. For example, in Gindely’s textbook on world history for upper classes of Gymnasien, one can read that the most important events since the 1848 revolt and Napoleon’s declaration of the French empire in 1853 were “the oriental war” (that is, the Crimean war) and “the Italian War.”34 These early mentions were very short and succinct, little more than a few unbiased sentences with simple facts. However, with every passing year, the narratives got longer and increasingly detailed. In the 1880s, narratives about “the Italian war” of 1859 reached a page and a half or two pages, and the narratives devoted to the relationship between Austria and Prussia between 1859 and 1866 were three to four pages, even in the textbooks designed for the lower and middle classes in secondary schools.35 In the schoolbooks published in the 1890s, narratives of the wars were most often blocked under the title The War Years. They also were three to four pages long and included a large portrait of the Austrian commander Archduke Albrecht, a photo of the monument to the Austrian admiral Tegetthoff, and a reproduction of a depiction of the battle of Lissa (1866). The narratives, moreover, were getting increasingly biased, vivid, and emotionally loaded.

In many schoolbooks, the narrative was also accompanied with a familiar portrait of Francis Joseph I in 1849, in which the young, good-looking emperor is wearing a military uniform with the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece, the Military Order of Maria Theresa, and the Cross of Saint George of the fourth class, which he was awarded by the Russian tsar Nicholas I “for pacifying the Hungarian riot in 1848–1849.” Narratives often included the contention that the adolescent emperor’s accession to power took place at a “terribly serious and pressing time,” when in most of Austria’s lands there was “disorder and confusion” and “even open outrage in several lands.” But the young emperor coped with the difficult situation and managed to keep Austria’s lands together, and a short period of peace then followed during which the emperor took trips to several crown lands, and everywhere the Habsburg peoples “cheered the new ruler and gave him evidence of unfeigned love and unshakable loyalty.”36 However, a few years later, Francis Joseph “had to pick up his sword again […] despite his pronounced love of peace.”37 In some textbooks, the period of 1859–1866 was titled Emperor Franz Josef I defends his lands.38

The Causes of the Wars

In the 1890s, considerable attention began to be devoted to the issue of the causes of the wars in question and, in particular, to the characteristics of aggressors and the interests they pursued. For example, in the most widespread Gindely’s reader on history for Volksschulen, which was revised by Gustav Rusch and appeared in seven editions without any significant changes between 1898 and 1910, it is stated that in 1859, King Victor Emmanuel of Sardinia allied himself with “the ambitious French Emperor Napoleon III” and “urged Austria to go to war,” while in 1866, Prussia “seized the opportunity to declare war on Austria,” since “it had long been striving for vested interests in Germany,” and at the same time, the Danube monarchy was attacked by Italy. 39 One finds the same information in the Pennerstorfer’s textbooks on history designed for the same category and age of schoolchildren.40

For the schoolchildren going to Bürgerschulen, Pennerstorfer explains that it was the death of Radetzky in 1858 that encouraged “the Sardinian king to try his luck with arms.”41 The image of a heroic commander who was so fearsome that the enemy did not dare attack while he was alive both reflects and contributes to the official Radetzky cult, which saw a resurgence between 1880 and 1914.42 For the children in the last year of secondary school, the same author wrote even more emotionally:

Victor Emmanuel was just waiting for an opportunity to wrest the provincems of Lombardy and Veneto from Austria. As long as Radetzky was alive, of course, he did not dare attack. But no sooner had the military general closed his eyes (1858) than he was again preparing for war. His ally here was the emperor of France, Napoleon III. With his help, he succeeded in defeating the Austria and obtaining the cession of Lombardy. […] In a similar way, Victor Emmanuel came into possession of Veneto in 1866. This time, he allied himself with the king of Prussia, which threatened our Fatherland on two sides at the same time.43

 

So Sardinia was commonly represented as the aggressor and the guilty party in both conflicts, with the Sardinian king Victor Emmanuel being the main culprit and Napoleon III and Frederick William IV of Prussia serving as his accomplices. The authors of the schoolbooks normally omitted the fact that it was Austria who officially declared war on Sardinia in 1859.44 Still, there were several textbooks for secondary schools which mentioned that hardly trivial detail. For instance, Dr. Emanuel Hannak describes the casus belli more accurately in his schoolbooks and notes, “As Sardinia was arming and gaining reinforcement from France, the Austrian General Count Gyulai opened the war.”45

In his textbook on modern history, Hannak provides even more details, but he again maintains that in 1859, Austria was actually forced to go to war in response to the actions of Sardinia and France and the Sardinian government was the main aggressor in the Italian war of 1859. According to him, however, the aggressor in 1866 was not Italy, but Prussia with its unwarranted political ambitions and unjust territorial claims.46 As a matter of fact, Austria rather than Prussia was the first officially to declare war on July 17, 1866, although sophisticated intrigues of Prussia did take place and hostilities preceded the official declaration of the war.47

The interwar conflict, namely, the Austro-Prussian-Danish war of 1864, was omitted in most textbooks for Volksschulen, but it was mentioned in the textbooks for Bürgerschulen and Gymnasien. In Hannak’s textbook, for example, it is described quite accurately from a historical point of view and more or less unemotionally, although Hannak takes the opportunity to recall “the victories of the Austrians at Översee and Veile and the victory that Tegetthoff achieved at Helgoland over the Danish flotilla,” which “form a glorious leaf in the laurel wreath of the Austrian army.”48

The most detailed and biased narratives about the wars in question are in the textbooks published after 1900. The main aggressor in the 1859 conflict had changed. This time, it was the ambitious “upstart” Napoleon III, although Victor Emmanuel II is also cast in unflattering light as not particularly honest and ready “to cede without hesitation the old ancestral land of his house, Savoy, to France” in exchange for assistance to “come into possession of the royal crown over Italy as far as the Adria.”49 The change of the aggressor can be explained by the different political setting at the turn of the century: Italy, unlike France, was now an ally of Austria-Hungary within the Triple Alliance framework and could not be directly accused of wrongdoing. However, it was not as closely allied with Austria-Hungary as Germany, and this made it possible for the narratives to include some veiled criticism of its political behavior. In contrast, Prussia’s guilt for starting the war in 1866 is blurred and obscured for the same reason. The emphasis has shifted to the joint success of Austria and Prussia against the Danish king in 1864. The conflict of 1866 is exposed as an unfortunate misunderstanding between the two reputable powers defending their natural interests and leadership in the German Confederation.50

In addition to narratives in schoolbooks, students also heard the narratives and explanations given by the teachers in classroom. The versions of events told by instructors may have been clearer and more memorable for schoolchildren, as they may have sounded more like the whole truth. Those stories probably exerted a strong influence on the political orientation of schoolchildren as they grew up. Teachers in turn presumably restated the information they found in the textbooks used in the teacher training colleges. For this reason, these narratives are also of interest from the perspective of this discussion. One of the most commonly used textbooks for the future teachers was the book by Tupetz. For example, his textbook on the world history for the second-year students had eight editions that were published without any significant changes between 1890 and 1917. His textbook on world history for the third year students had eight unchanged editions, the last of which was published in 1918. For soon-to-be history teachers, Tupetz suggested a long narrative about the period of war in question, accompanied by many more details and a corresponding ideological bias.

In his discussion of the war of 1859, Tupetz depicts aggressive France and Sardinia as lands under the rule of unfair leaders, but he also stresses that “it was hoped on the Danube that an attack on a member of the German Confederation would be repulsed jointly by all German states,” and particularly Prussia. But for their disloyalty to the staunch Austrian ally, Austria would have kept her Italian possessions. Once more, Prussia employed underhanded tactics when it declined the “brilliant” proposals for a reorganization of the German Confederation by Francis Joseph, who was only seeking to maintain peace and justice among the German states. The king of Prussia did this on Bismarck’s advice, for “had the Austrian plan succeeded, Prussia would have had to give up hope of taking the lead in Germany for a long time, perhaps forever.”51 Thus, Tupetz delicately rebukes the German states, including Prussia, blaming them for the two main misfortunes that befell the Austrian monarchy in the 1860s, the loss of territories and the inability to preserve supremacy in Germany.

Tupetz also describes the conflict with the Danish king, who also proved covetous and unjust. His actions were illegitimate, and Austria could not tolerate this, as Austria remained loyal to the principles of the German Confederation and ready to defend the rights of any of its members.52 Thanks to the joint forces of Austria and Prussia, Denmark was forced to abandon its rapacious plans and cede the duchies to the victors, who soon started a dispute over the fate of the two German lands. Prussia was apparently inclined to deprive Schleswig-Holstein of its traditional independence, but Austria could not accept this. The war of 1866 “between the two great German powers” began because Prussia longed for supremacy in Germany. It concluded an alliance with Italy, and Austria saw itself attacked from two sides. “Most of the German states, on the other hand, feared the destruction of their previous independence from Prussia and sided with Austria, which had never infringed on their independence, but had always defended it.”53 Based on this narrative and similar ones from other textbooks by Tupetz,54 it can be supposed that the version most commonly heard by the Habsburg children in classrooms reiterated the information from most schoolbooks: the illegitimate ambitions of Sardinia and Prussia led to the bloody conflicts and induced Austria, under its peace-loving emperor Francis Joseph I, to wage wars.

The Course of the Wars

Most of the textbooks for Volkschulen did not contain any description of the course of the wars. The textbooks for younger children did not even contain any mention of specific battles during the Austro-Sardinian war of 1859, perhaps because none of the major battles were won by the Austrian army. These books make mention of only three battles that took place during the Seven Weeks’ War of 1866: the Battles of Lissa, Custozza, and Königgrätz. The names of the first two battles, in which the Austrian army triumphed even if these triumphs remained indecisive for the outcome of the war, are bolded in the text and described in detail, while the battle of Königgrätz, the decisive battle, in which the Austrian army suffered a crushing defeat, is referred to very briefly. One notices a clear difference between the textbooks for girls’ schools (Mädchenbürgerschulen) and the textbooks for boys’ schools (Knabenbürgerschulen). The latter, while following the same basic scheme of the narrative, contained more detailed descriptions of battles, hostilities, military maneuvers, armaments, troop numbers, etc. and more names of commanders. As soon as universal military duty was introduced by the 1867 constitution, schoolboys were obviously regarded as future soldiers and officers in the Austrian army, who needed deeper knowledge in the field of military history and warfare.

In connection with the Battles of Lissa and Custozza, the textbooks glorify Archduke Albrecht of Austria and Admiral Wilhelm von Tegetthoff as talented commanders and Austrian military heroes. The Austrian army acquired “new and everlasting fame”55 under the leadership of Archduke Albrecht, “who had already given proof of fearlessness at Sa. Lucia in 1848 and, under Radetzky’s excellent guidance, matured into a capable warrior. Moreover, he was the son of the victor of Aspern and had inherited his father’s general virtues.” 56 On June 24, 1866, Archduke Albrecht won “a brilliant victory over Victor Emmanuel’s army at the memorable site where Radetzky had once put the troops of Karl Albert to flight, near Custozza.”57

Thus, a relatively recent hero was presented in the textbooks in close connection with the earlier military heroes Radetzky and Archduke Karl. This perfectly supports Laurence Cole’s claim that the Habsburg government sought to establish explicit continuity in terms of the representation of heroes within the military culture of the monarchy.58 The heroes of relatively recent wars were finely interwoven into the general Austrian imperial cult of military commanders who were famous for their patriotism and their loyalty to the state and dynasty. Thus, the Habsburg state undertook “a conscious effort to promote a conservative patriotic agenda in the 1890s and 1900s, which presented the army as a positive, cohesive force within the multinational state,”59 and the narratives in schoolbooks can be seen as a display of this effort.

In the same manner, compilers of schoolbooks praise the “glorious” Admiral Tegetthoff who “without hesitation” attacked “the much stronger enemy fleet and forced it to retreat,” a “heroic deed [which] will not be forgotten”:60

The young Austrian fleet also took a glorious part in the battle against Italy. Its commander, Admiral Tegetthoff, attacked the far more numerous Italian fleet off the Dalmatian island of Lissa and forced it to retreat. Not one Austrian ship was lost in this battle, while the enemy lost three ironclad ships. The sea victory at Lissa was all the more honorable for Admiral Tegetthoff, as he could only oppose the iron-armored ships of Italy with wooden ones. Unfortunately, the glorious winner died in 1871 at the age of 41. The magnificent monument which Emperor Francis Joseph had erected to him in Vienna reminds us of his heroic deed.61

 

It is true that from the 1880s onwards, the state became increasingly involved in the propagation of Austrian military heroes’ cult, for instance by unveiling monuments to them.62 Gestures of the Habsburgs’ gratitude for the services to the Fatherland and inviolable loyalty to the ruling dynasty must have been very meaningful for the politics of identity, as long as they were included in the narratives which schoolchildren not only had to read but often had to learn by heart. The narratives were normally accompanied by large images of a half-page or a whole page size, which invariably included a photo portrait of Archduke Albrecht wearing the Austrian uniform and military rewards; the painting of the battle of Lissa, depicting the Italian ship Re d’Italia sinking after being rammed by Tegetthoff’s flagship Ferdinand Max; and a photo of the monument to Tegetthoff on Vienna’s Praterstern.

However, other Austrian commanders could be portrayed in a less flattering manner. In particular, Count Ferenc Gyulai, a Hungarian nobleman who commanded the losing Austrian army at the Battle of Magenta, was often blamed for failing to attack the French before they united with the Sardinians, for which reason the Austrian army suffered defeats at Magenta and Solferino.63 Count Clam-Gallas, who commanded the right wing of the Austrian army at Magenta, was first to retreat, while the center and left wing of the army under other commanders “held each other brilliantly”: “his Hungarian regiments failed and his instructions did not prove workable. Repelled by the French, he retreated so quickly from the line of attack that he completely lost touch with the undefeated parts of the army.” At Solferino, “again it was the Hungarian regiments of the Clam-Gallas corps in the center that did not hold out.”64 It is difficult to say whether the specific blame placed on the Hungarian regiments here resulted from the personal beliefs of the compilers, but it was hardly an official practice or policy of the Viennese Ministry to generate a negative perception of Hungarians. A Hungarian aristocrat Tassilo Graf Festetics de Tolna, and Franz Graf von Thun und Hohenstein of non-Hungarian origin were also criticized for their actions at Königgrätz. The textbook claimed that, “against the orders of Benedek, [they] took part in the struggle against the Prussian center, weakened their forces, and left their basic positions,” and “the third Prussian army therefore struck the right flank of the Austrians without hindrance and stormed Chlum, and thus the battle was lost.”65

Nevertheless, the “heroic struggle” of the whole Austrian army was never subject to critique. In the victorious Battles of Custozza and Lissa, it were “the combative troops, the good spirit of the officers, the precise execution of the supreme commands, the cooperation and mutual support, and proper management” that “brought about the success.” In “the bloody but unfortunate battles of Magenta and Solferino,” the Austrian troops also “performed miracles of bravery and devotion.”66 At Königgrätz, the Austrian artillery likewise “performed miracles of bravery”:

Particular fame was earned by the “Battery of the Dead” under Captain von der Groeben, which did not leave the place until Groeben himself, a second captain, and 52 of 60 artillerymen had died. The survivors saved the only gun that still had its equipment. On the battlefield, near a grove between the villages of Chlum and Lipa, a beautiful monument has recently been erected representing Austria, with the inscription: “To the Heroes of the Battery of the Dead.” 67

An amazing and breathtaking story is also narrated about an episode of the sea battle at Lissa:

One of the Austrian wooden ships, the “Kaiser,” also performed miraculous bravery. When this ship was surrounded and attacked by four enemy ironclad ships, Commodore Petz, who was in command of the ship, fired all the cannons to the right and left, with great force against the Italian ironclad in front. The shock was terrible for the wooden ship too: one of the masts broke and smashed the engine’s chimney; the sails that had fallen on the chimney began to burn. But the crew put out the fire and the ship escaped danger. But one of the enemy ironclads with which the “Kaiser” had fought—it was called “Afondatore” and had the commander in chief of the Italian fleet on board—was so badly damaged that it sank after returning to the port of Ancona. The Austrian fleet hardly lost a ship. Hardly has world history (before the World War) recorded a case when such wonderful success would have been achieved with so little means as in this one.68

Should the schoolchildren have questions about why the Austrians were still defeated in particular battles after all their “heroic resistance,” the teacher was ready to provide reasonable explanations, which he could find in the textbooks used at the teacher training colleges:

In this war [of 1859], the French had the advantage over the Austrians that they already had “rifled” cannons, i.e. guns the barrels of which were provided with shallow indentations in the form of a helix, which gave the bullets a greater speed and enabled the French to shoot much further than was possible with “smooth” cannons. Nevertheless, the Austrians were long contesting the victories of their enemy at Magenta and Solferino; moreover, at Solferino, one Austrian wing under Field Marshal Lieutenant Benedek beat the opposing Sardinians.69

 

A similar explanation was provided for the defeat in the Prussian war of 1866: it was Austria’s defeat that was characterized as the sad consequence of the Prussian military reform (general conscription), better armaments of Prussia (the Dreyse needle-guns), and the inadequate aid given by the small German states to Austria.70 It is interesting that the author of a history schoolbook in Czech identifies additional causes of the Austrian defeat: the excellent Prussian military leader (Helmuth von Moltke the Elder) and general compulsory schooling in Prussia.71

The Outcomes and Consequences of the Wars

Although Austria’s defeats in war in the period between 1859 and 1866 were by no means obscured, but rather were accurately stated, all narratives about the wars in question end on an optimistic note. First, the war indemnity which Austria had to pay was moderate. Second, Austria did not lose any territory to Prussia. Third, in 1878, Bosnia and Herzegovina were “handed over to Austria for administration,” and as “New Austria,” they partially replaced the loss of land which Austria suffered in the war years of 1859 and 1866.”72 Fourth, with the Peace of Prague, “the antagonism which had developed between Prussia and Austria with regard to German affairs came to an end,” and “it became evident how valuable an alliance could be for both parties.”73 “In alliance with the German Empire, which was strengthened through personal meetings of the monarchs and expanded to include Italy,” Austria now asserted an influential position in the European state system.74 And last but not least, Francis Joseph “was now freed from the perpetually threatening danger of war” and “was able to devote all his energy to the internal development of Austria,” which resulted in a great progress “in all branches of popular welfare.”75 After the war against Prussia in 1866, the emperor promulgated the December Laws (1867).76 “A great boom in trade and industry, in the arts and sciences” is referred to as a direct consequence of these laws. For instance, the frigate Novara circumnavigated the earth in 1857–1859 and established trade connections with overseas cities and countries. Numerous roads and railways were built, with the Semmering, Brenner, West, Northwest, and Francis Joseph Railways being of particular importance.77 In his textbook for soon-to-be teachers, Tupetz also suggested a very encouraging summary of the war years:

Avoiding war and all bloodshed, a prince of peace in the noblest sense of the word, Emperor Francis Joseph I found himself obliged to draw the sword to protect his empire against foreign enemies; in the wars which Austria was forced to wage, the Austrian armies acquired new laurels for their imperishable wreath of glory. […] the victory which Field Marshal Archduke Albrecht, the son of the victor of Aspern, achieved at Custozza in 1866, the victory of Admiral Wilhelm von Tegetthoff, who unfortunately died early, at Lissa in the same year will live on forever in the memory of all Austrians.78

 

Narratives in Languages Other than German

The discussion above offers a good general image of the wars in which the Austrian monarchy fought during the period of neo-absolutism as these wars were narrated in history textbooks in German. I would also like to provide a few samples of narratives in Czech and Romanian for comparison. Let me note, however, that it is not my intention to present a comprehensive analysis of the peculiarities that were typical of narratives in textbooks in other languages of the monarchy. I offer only a few examples as interesting illustrations of some of the differences in these narratives.

From the textbook on the world history by professor Samuil V. Isopescul, designed for the lower classes of secondary schools and published in Romanian, the reader would similarly know that although Emperor Francis Joseph I was “not fond of wars,” he was still forced to wage many wars during his long reign. Isopescul considers Count Cavour, who was “pursuing with great energy the plan of the unification of Italy,” to have been the aggressor in the Italian war of 1859, and he claims that “King Victor Emmanuel, supported by Emperor Napoleon III, declared war on Austria in 1859.” The Austrian army was defeated near Magenta, “although it had fought with the greatest heroism.”79 Isopescul particularly stresses the personal courage of Emperor Francis Joseph, who “exposed himself to fire like every other soldier.”80 In a way similar to that in the German textbooks, Isopescul praises the glorious Austrian victors Archduke Albrecht and Admiral Tegetthoff, providing a few sentences of biography on each and describing in some detail the battles at Custozza and Lissa.81

As for the schoolbooks published in Czech, one also finds emphasis on reverence for Emperor Francis Joseph and praise for his personal courage during the war period. For example, in Šembera-Koníř’s textbook on world history, which was written for first-year students in the municipal schools, one reads that, even as a young man, he “showed special affection and dexterity for military service,” and he “went to Italy to get a vivid picture of war preparations and achievements, which were directed against the enemy by Field Marshal Count Radetzky at the head of the Austrian army.”82 In 1859 and 1866, he waged bloody wars, during which “our people gloriously defeated Italy on land at Custozza (under Archduke Albrecht) and at sea near Lissa (under Admiral Tegetthoff), but he had bad luck against the Prussians.”83 The reference to “our people” distinguishes the narrative in this textbook. It made the Bohemian children perceive the Habsburg citizens as one solidary Austrian people, which was definitely the aim of the Habsburg government. The images of shared triumph and shared defeat contributed, without doubt, to the cohesion of the residents of the Habsburg lands. In the textbook by Šembera-Koníř intended for the second-year and third-year students in the municipal schools one finds praise of the worthy emperor, who “showed great bravery and fearlessness,” accompanied by a portrait of him as a young man, as well as praise of “our” brave army.”84 The reader also finds a cautious critique of the “indecisive” General Benedek, who, unlike in the German narratives, is portrayed here as a commander lacking in bravery who was incapable of making bold decisions.85 The narrative also notes that, after the defeat at Königgrätz, the Prussians occupied Prague, a detail omitted from the German narratives. Šembera-Koníř underlines: “Although this war did not last long, it was terrible, and all the horrors took place in Bohemia. The loyalty of the Czech nation proved excellent in these difficult trials, which the noble monarch himself acknowledged when he visited Bohemia after the war.” 86 Thus, Šembera-Koníř emphasizes the outstanding loyalty and merits of the Czech people, although he regards the latter as an integral part of the whole Austrian people. “The outstanding loyalty” of the Czech nation is also stressed in the schoolbook by Š. M. Konečný.87 The narrative on the war period concludes with a comment that later Austria was compensated for the loss of the Italian territories, when it acquired Bosnia and Herzegovina.88

The cult of wars and military heroes was widely employed by the Habsburg government in its effort to forge state loyalty and patriotic thinking in imperial Austria. It was propagated through various institutions, channels, and means. History classes in schools and history schoolbooks served as ideal means of spreading this cult. Narratives about wars led by the Austrian monarchy with a relevant focus and emphasis occupied a solid place in history textbooks in the different languages of the monarchy. While it was possible to select triumphant military conflicts from the remote past to be presented to schoolchildren and ignore clashes in which Austria was defeated, this approach was hardly applicable to relatively recent wars that could not be “hushed up.” For this reason, the narratives about the Austro-Sardinian war of 1859 and the Seven Weeks’ War of 1866 found a due place on the pages of Habsburg schoolbooks, even though the Austrian army was crushingly defeated in those wars and the Austrian monarchy suffered territorial losses and the loss of its supremacy in the German Confederation.

However, the Ministry of Culture and Education in Vienna kept a stern eye on the focus of narratives about the wars to ensure that the image of the great Fatherland under its good ruler and heroic army was by no means challenged. The discussion I have offered above of the narratives in history textbooks published between 1860s and 1910s mostly in German but also in Czech and Romanian shows that no serious discrepancies between the narratives about the wars waged by Austria between 1859 and 1866 can be discovered in the textbooks designed for students at the secondary schools and teacher training colleges in Cisleithania. Although the recent literature considers the wars in question among the hardest and most humiliating for Austria, during the late period of Francis Joseph’s rule, the ways in which these wars were presented in schoolbooks strongly contributed to the cult of the brave Austrian military and the heroic image of Austrian warriors, regardless of ethnicity and language. The authors of schoolbooks did not distort historical facts and did not deny the military defeats suffered by the Austrian Empire, but their narratives are clearly biased and one-sided, and they were clearly intended to foster patriotic feelings, in accordance with the instructions of the ministry. One can find clichés such as “the miracles of bravery” performed by the Austrian soldiers and sailors and stories about glorious battles fought under the leadership of brilliant Austrian commanders, accompanied by portraits of Archduke Albrecht and photos of the monument to Admiral Tegetthoff. The latter were glorified as new heroes of the Austrian army, but in close connection with the hugely popular Radetzky and Archduke Karl. This established continuity among military heroes who were famous not only for their deeds in battle, but also for their patriotism and their loyalty to the dynasty.

Although in the conflicts in 1859 and 1866 it was Austria who officially declared war, in the narratives in question, it was claimed that the major aggressors were Victor Emmanuel II of Sardinia, Napoleon III, and the Prussian government. The wars were lost because of “unfortunate” circumstances, but with modest war indemnity losses and no territorial losses. Moreover, the outcomes of the wars led to the long-awaited monarchy’s reorganization and its “finest achievement,” the Constitution of 1867. The personal bravery and achievements of Francis Joseph were particularly stressed, and a portrait of an emperor as a young man full of energy decorated most of the textbooks. The narratives in Romanian paid specific attention to the high virtues of the emperor, while those in Czech emphasized the alleged loyalty of the Bohemians to the emperor during the hostilities.

Thus, this discussion offers insights into one more episode in the Habsburg state efforts to promote a patriotic agenda and present the Austrian army as a powerful and cohesive force guarding the multinational Fatherland, a force of which every citizen should have been proud. History schoolbooks can be considered an effective means of disseminating the cult of Austrian wars, since large masses of schoolchildren absorbed their narratives under the oversight of state-certified teachers, and these narratives could certainly strengthen patriotic feelings and influence the political views of children as they grew older, much as they could also contribute to the formation of their identities as imperial Austrians. This, in its turn, may offer further insights into the phenomena of military culture, popular patriotism, and dynastic loyalty, which are widely discussed in the recent secondary literature.

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* This study was financially supported by the Russian Foundation for Basic Research, project no. 19-59-23005 The Habsburg Monarchy: new trends in research of economic, sociopolitical and national development of the Central-European composite state.