This system is not calculated to satisfy either the landlord or the peasant. The benefit derived by the latter is by no means proportionate to the sacrifice which the former is obliged to make. The quantity of land appropriated to the peasant is enormous: still he labours unwillingly, and of course ineffectually, under the idea that he works from compulsion and not for pay. In order to do all the farming work upon a given estate by the peasants, nearly one-half of the land capable of cultivation is portioned out among the labourers; nay there are estates every acre of which is occupied by the peasants, the landlord receiving nothing but the tenths and other casual services, unless he has occasion to send them to labour on some other of his estates. On other properties again there are no peasants—and this appears to be the state of things most desirable to the proprietor—so much so, that there are instances even where peasants have been on an estate, in which the lord has almost neglected to require their services, finding his labour better performed by hired servants.
If, however, the landlord have little reason to be satisfied, still less can the peasant be supposed to rejoice in his situation. On a failure of his crops, the latter, who has nothing but his field, starves or becomes a burden to his lord. Though the lord can legally claim a certain quantity only of labour, yet there are numberless pretexts on which he can demand more and be supported in those demands. The administration of justice is in a great degree vested in his own hands. There are many little faults for which a peasant becomes liable to be punished with blows or fines, but which he is often permitted to commute for labour. In fact, these things happen so frequently, and other extorted days of labour, which the peasant fears to refuse, occur so often, that, instead of estimating his labour at one hundred and four days, we should come much nearer to the truth were we to double that amount. Should, however, the lord or his agents have too strong a sense of justice to transgress the strictness of the law, still they can at any time call upon the peasants to serve for pay, and that not at the usual wages of a servant, but about one-third as much. Add to all this the services due to the government; the cases in which a peasant is obliged to be six weeks together from his home, with his horses and cart, carrying imperial stores to the frontier, and it will be evident how dearly he pays for the land which he holds as the only return for his labour.
After this explanation we cannot be surprised to learn that a marked feature in the character of the Hungarian peasant is indolence. This observation applies particularly to those of the counties around the Platten Lake. The equality and the savage life to which the people are here accustomed when pasturing their cattle in the forests are probably the chief causes of the frequent robberies that occur. Though robbers by profession, subsisting entirely on the fruits of their depredations abroad, still far the greater number are cattle-keepers under the various names of Tsikos, Gulyas, Juhasz, or Kanasz.
The latter are particularly notorious, and scarcely one person worthy of trust is to be found among them. The herdsmen are usually mere thieves, stealing cattle when they can, and plundering travellers when good opportunities present themselves. Those on the contrary who have no other occupation than to seek booty, and live constantly in the forest, steal cattle only when driven by necessity; the plunder of the traveller, whom they frequently murder, being their principal object. Jews and butchers are more particularly exposed to their attacks: the officers of the crown and the nobles are safe from a dread of the inquiry which in such cases would not fail to be instituted. They generally hail a carriage with a demand of money, styling themselves szegeny legeny, or poor fellows. The little solitary public houses suffer much from them, for when they can obtain nothing elsewhere they enter them and eat and drink without paying. Such houses are in consequence extremely unsafe, and the more so because the innkeepers are frequently connected with the robbers either as receivers or accomplices. In order to put a stop to this evil, pursuits are often instituted by the county, when some of the offenders are generally taken, but the extent of the county and the insufficient strength of the police prevent their total extermination.
In slight offences rather against good order than against law, the hofrichfer, or steward of a magnat, may at all times punish a peasant with stripes. For this purpose he is provided with a machine like a low table, on which the culprit lies, with two iron cramps at one end for confining the wrists, two at the other for securing the ankles, and a large one in the middle to pass over the back. Stretched out in this helpless situation, the culprit receives a certain number of stripes on the bare back with a stick. A notorious robber taken in the act may be put to death. When the case is not so clear, and confession cannot be obtained from the accused by examination, recourse is had to the discipline just described; and should this expedient also fail, and there be strong presumption of guilt, the prisoner is brought to trial before a court composed of servants of the lord and a few respectable freemen. From the decision of this court, which is completely under the influence of the magnat, appeals indeed lie to higher courts, and capital punishment cannot be inflicted without the sanction of those courts and also of the king.
Dr. Bright draws a striking but most revolting picture of a Hungarian prison. The place chosen for the confinement of prisoners, says that writer, is usually close adjoining to, or forms part of the dwelling of the lord: and as they are generally employed in labour, the traveller seldom approaches the house of a Hungarian noble who possesses the jus gladii, without being shocked by the clanking of chains and the exhibition of these objects of misery loaded with irons. The prison itself is never concealed from the curiosity of strangers; I should almost say that it is considered a boast, a kind of badge of the power which the lord possesses. One of the best I saw was at Keszthely. It forms an insignificant part of a large low building immediately opposite to the entrance of the castle, in which are the residences of several inferior officers of the estate. Under the guidance of the keeper of the prison I entered by a door well barred and bolted. Instantly seventeen figures all in the long Hungarian cloak, rose from the ground on which they were sitting. Besides themselves, the room, which was not above twelve feet square, presented no one object—no table, bed or chair. It was ventilated and lighted by several small grated windows high up in the sides of the walls. The prisoners were most of them young men: some had been tried, others had not; and some had been confined seven or eight years. Their crimes were very different; but no difference was made in the mode of treating them, excepting as to the number of lashes they were to receive at stated times, or the number of years they were to be imprisoned. Such was their residence in the day-time when they did not go out to work. We next proceeded to the dungeon in which they are confined during the night, the gaoler taking the precaution to disguise unpleasant smells by carrying a fumigating pot before us. On opening an inner door we entered a small room, in the corner of which lay two women on beds of straw. In the middle of the floor was an iron grate. This being opened by my guide, he descended first by means of a ladder, with a lamp in his hand, by the light of which I perceived that we were in a small antichamber or cell, from which a door opened into the dungeon, the usual sleeping-place of all the male prisoners. It was a small oblong vaulted cave, in which the only furniture was two straw mattresses. A few ragged articles of dress lay near the place where each prisoner was accustomed to rest upon the naked floor. In one corner of the room was a large strong chain, and about a foot and a half from the ground round the whole vault were rings let into the wall. The prisoners at night having laid themselves upon the ground, the chain is put through the irons which confine the ankles of three of them and is passed into a ring in the wall: it is then attached to three more, and is passed through a second ring, and continued in this way till a complete circuit of the room is made. The ends of the chain are fastened together by a padlock, by which the whole is firmly secured. It was painful to reflect that in this state some of these wretches had already passed their nights during seven years.
The general appearance of the peasants and of their habitations in the vicinity of Presburg, is thus described by the same intelligent observer:—
No one peasant has proceeded in the arts of life and civilization a step farther than his neighbour. When you have seen one you have seen all. From the same little hat, covered with oil, falls the same matted long black hair, negligently plaited or tied in knots; and over the same dirty jacket and trowsers is wrapped on each a cloak of coarse woollen cloth or sheep-skin still retaining its wool. Whether it be winter or summer, week-day or sabbath, the Slavonian of this district never lays aside his cloak or is seen but in heavy boots. Their instruments of agriculture are throughout the same, and in all their habitations is observed a perfect uniformity of design. A wide muddy road separates two rows of cottages which constitute a village. From among them there is no possibility of selecting the best or the worst: they are absolutely uniform. In some villages the cottages present their ends, in others their sides to the road: but there is seldom this variety in the same village.
The interior of the cottage is in general divided into three small rooms on the ground-floor, and a little space in the roof destined for lumber. The roof is commonly covered with a very thick thatch: the walls are whitewashed, and have two small windows toward the road. The cottages are usually placed a few yards distant from each other. The intervening space, defended by a rail and gate or a fence of wicker-work towards the road, forms the farm-yard, which runs back some way and contains a shed or out-house for cattle.
The cottages of the peasants of a village belonging to Count Hunyadi, in the county of Neutra, are thus described:—