The Austrian Bauer
From Austro-Hungarian Life in Town and Country by Francis H. E. Palmer, 1910.
From: 1910 C.E. To: 1910 C.E.
Location: Austria
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Austro-Hungarian Life in Town and Country by Francis H. E. Palmer, 1910.
Some years ago I made the acquaintance at Vienna of a very intelligent young engineer and his brother, a doctor, both of whom had recently completed their studies with distinction. They were the sons of a prosperous Bauer in Lower Austria, and, proud though their father now was of the success they had won, it had been no easy matter to break through his class prejudices and induce him to give his consent to their entering upon careers so foreign to his old-world ideas as the laying down of railways or the cultivation of microbes.
His eldest son, it is true, remained at home, and, when the time came, would succeed him in the occupation of his land. But, alas! even he had transgressed one of the most cherished customs of the old-fashioned Bauers by marrying out of his class. In a moment of weakness his father had allowed his only daughter, after leaving the village school, to go to Gratz for a few years to finish her education. She went as a simple Bauer's daughter, and returned a "Fraülein."
Worse than all, she had brought back with her a schoolgirl friend, the daughter of a wealthy timber merchant, with whom her brother had fallen in love and had soon after married. The stars in their courses had fought against the Bauer's conservatism, and, cling as he might to the end of his days to the habits and customs of his forefathers, the future life of the next generation of his family would inevitably be that of the burgher class.
All this was told me by my engineering friend when he learned that I was making a study of the economic condition of the various nationalities of Austria-Hungary, Russia, and Eastern Europe generally, and he most kindly suggested that I should pay him a visit during his holidays at his father's house, where he promised that I should have the warmest of welcomes, and a full opportunity of seeing the kind of life led by the class that he maintained—and perhaps not altogether wrongly—is destined to render more real service to his country than the fashionable aristocracy in Vienna, or the half-ruined noble landowners living upon their country estates.
When I reached his home a few weeks later, I found that his promise of a cordial reception was no mere form of words. The richer Austrian Bauers, proud and reserved though they unquestionably are in their general relations with those outside their own class, regard the warmest hospitality to those whom they do receive as friends as the highest of social virtues.
The house, though larger than that of the majority of Bauers, was built upon the same general model as is adopted by those of average or smaller fortunes. The farmhouse and outbuildings were, as usual, surrounded by a ring fence, and the furious barking of a dozen dogs of various breeds gave me a warning of the kind of reception that an unwelcome visitor might expect.
Another typical characteristic of an ordinary Bauer's residence was also carefully preserved—a group of tall trees called Schopf-Bäumer, which are regarded as a protection against lightning. The house itself recalled many of the features of those of the small landowners in Russia known as Odnodvortsy. As in Russia, timber, whenever it is obtainable, is the favourite building material. The style of construction, however, is usually far more picturesque in Austria than that adopted in Russia.
Carved wood is more freely employed, and there is generally a pleasing variety in the ornamentation but seldom to be met with in the country houses of the less inventive Russians. There is rarely any great deviation, however, from the type common to all. The house consists almost always of a ground floor only, except for the lofts below the wide, shingle-covered roof. This generally continues far beyond the walls on one side, and, supported by wooden pillars, forms a covered space, where many of the household operations are carried on in summer. The front door is curiously studded with large-headed iron nails, generally taking the form of a special dedication to the patron saint. Upon the door also, or some- times upon the wall adjoining, are fastened a number of little wooden crosses.
In the house I am describing, above these was placed the figure of a running stag, carved in wood, a trophy borne home in triumph by the Bauer in his younger days from one of the shooting competitions which are such favourite amusement in many parts of Austria. The front door opened into the central room, the Laube, with which, in the smaller houses, all the others communicate. Here, too, are generally placed the stairs which lead to the loft beneath the roof.
The number of rooms the house contains, of course, depends upon the importance of the Bauer's estate. The largest is the Gesindestube, the household room. This is often of considerable size, and frequently lighted by five or six windows. Around the room are placed benches with lockers below. The wooden floor, blackened by age and smoke, is carefully polished, and the plastered walls are often coloured some shade of red or brown. In my host's house, as is usual in the homes of the old-fashioned Bauer families, the furniture in these working rooms is all home-made and of the most solid construction. It is usually painted red or brown, and gives just the impression of form and colouring that the old German and Dutch painters delighted in depicting. There is generally a touch of brighter colour too.
Near the window stands the great family linen-chest, painted with strange designs of birds and flowers, inspired, probably, by the quaint signboards to be seen in so many old-world towns in Austria and Hungary. On the other side is the green-tiled stove and oven, and around it seats and settles, with the grandmother's place of honour in the ingle-nook.
Opening out of the Stube is the kitchen, and here in picturesque confusion are baskets and casks of agricultural produce, fruit and vegetables, and the huge open brick stove with an overhanging chimney, beneath which is suspended an enormous kettle over the ever-burning fire of wood, turf, or peat.
In the family rooms of the wealthier class of Bauers old furniture of real artistic interest is often to be found, the accumulated heirlooms of many generations. In Upper and Lower Austria, Styria, and some parts of Bohemia, old oak cabinets, tables, and bedsteads, handsomely carved and curiously inlaid with brasswork, are often met with in the homes of the richer Bauers. The dates they bear suggest the history they could so often tell of the days of Wallenstein and the Thirty Years' War. Time moves but slowly in these old-world districts. In the Tyrol I have often heard the dramatic story of Hofer's heroic fight for his country's freedom discussed as though it were but an event of yesterday, and in the rural districts of Bohemia Huss is still the national hero, and not least among those who belong to the Roman Catholic Church which sentenced him to death.
As a friend of the two sons who were then at home for a short holiday, I received an open-handed welcome from the Bauer and Bäuerin, and one not less warm from the old grandmother. Still handsome and almost stately in her bearing, she looked, in her picturesque peasant costume, as striking a representative of the disappearing past as her grandsons and granddaughter were of the invasion of modern ideas.
After lunch of roast chicken and delicious trout, doubly welcome after a long drive through the fresh mountain air, my host suggested that I should take a walk with him over part of his domain. In spite of all his concessions to modern progress, as was proved by the careers he had allowed his sons to follow, I soon found that his love of the old-world life of his fathers was too deeply rooted to be easily effaced.
Very reluctantly he had introduced some new agricultural machinery, and though he was forced to admit that it had some advantages, he persisted that be would have preferred to keep to the old ways. "Of course it saves labour," he remarked; " but, after all, I would rather lose a little by having my work done for me by human beings, who can get some happiness out of life, than by soulless machines."
Not far from his residence stood another and smaller house, the object of which he very graphically described to me. This second dwelling, a feature of most Bauer farms, is the Dowerhouse, or Ausnahmshäusel, and reveals a very curious characteristic of peasant life in Austria. In this case it was occupied by my host's eldest son, a very unusual arrangement. As a rule it is the last refuge of the Bauer himself. For years, as their family is growing up, the ordinary Austrian peasant and his wife look forward sadly to the day when they must abdicate and resign the sceptre of their little kingdom into younger hands. When the eldest son marries, it entails a revolution in the family life, for the mutual relations of all the members are generally completely changed.
A notary is called in from the nearest town, and the fateful deed is drawn up. The new Bauer, in assuming the reins of government, undertakes to provide a fixed amount annually, partly in money and partly in kind, for the benefit of his parents. A certain provision has also to be made for his brothers and sisters, and when all is done it often seems as though he would inherit little beyond the dignity of his new position in return for all the responsibility and labour that it entails. And now comes the final ceremony. The ex-Bauer, with his successor and the members of his family, accompanied by the notary, pays his last visit, as master, to the estate. The boundaries are all carefully followed, and on reaching each of the boundary posts or natural features by which his frontier is indicated, the party stops while the old Bauer in solemn tones repeats again and again the maledictions that would fall upon the head of him who should change his neighbour's landmarks.
The inculcation of the lesson is enforced by a ringing box on the ear, which he bestows upon his successor. The infliction is borne with stoical indifference, though, not infrequently, the vigour with which it is given has some relation to the family bargain that has just been concluded, and the generous or illiberal feeling that his son has, evinced. It is his last act of authority, and thenceforward he will be but a pensioner upon the land that once was his own. To make this more evident, in many districts the very name of the estate is changed. These peasant lands are usually known by the united Christian names of the actual holder and his two predecessors—usually his father and grandfather. When the new Bauer begins his reign, the oldest name is suppressed, his own name becomes the last of the three, and his father's the second.
Among the richest Bauers, the younger members of the family have generally been already started in life, the daughters are married, and the younger sons now usually take up some trade or profession in town. The change of ownership, therefore, is not generally fraught with very' serious consequences for them. Among the poorer Bauers, however, especially in remote or mountainous regions, the case is widely different. Often the younger members of the family elect to remain in their old home, but now as paid employees.
Fortunately, the existence of these old-fashioned Bauers is so patriarchal that the change, so far as their daily life is concerned, is less than might be supposed, the hired servants being, in any case, always treated as members of the family.
Next came a visit to the barns, stables, and cow-houses. The inmates of the latter are the special pride of the Austrian Bauer, particularly in the mountain districts, such as the Tyrol and Styria, where they are sent up to the hill pastures during the summer months. The Austrian peasants affirm that their cattle understand every word that is said in their presence, and explain the alleged accomplishment as the result of their summer visit to the mountains, where their human guardians have no one else to talk to.
The most interesting building, however, was the Feld-Kasten, the Bauer's storehouse, and an examination of its contents explains at once how it comes to pass that the Austrian Bauer's estate is a little self-supporting kingdom, in which he has hitherto been but slightly affected by the fluctuations in the money value of his agricultural produce, or even of the manufactured commodities that he needs.
The ground floor was occupied mainly with bins containing seeds of various kinds, and a very large provision of smoked beef and pork, dried fruit and vegetables, and other kinds of food preserved in various ways for winter use. One very important item was a large store of Schmalz, or butter melted down, without which the Bäuerin would be unable to cook any of the national dishes.
The floor above is reached by a ladder, and here, on shelves, were placed large rolls of linen of different textures, and cloth dyed in various colours for the men's coats and women's dresses. Below were baskets containing trunks of silvery-white spun flax, and woollen yarn for weaving or knitting. In another corner were rows of boots and shoes for men and women, and rolls of leather, from part of which they had been made, coils of rope and string, and a curious collection of tools and instruments in wood and iron, the very use of which would be a mystery to the unlearned visitor.
Every one of these articles was made at the Bauer's farm, and nearly all from raw material obtained from his own land. The spinning of the flax was all done at home by the women of his household. The weaving is generally done by a professional weaver, who takes a regular round, going from one Bauer farm to another, and spending a week or two at each. The necessary tailoring and shoemaking are also done by itinerant artisans, who visit the farm when needed and stay there until their task is completed.
The amount of work they have to do is very considerable, for the farm servants generally live in the house, and in most districts in Austria are not only lodged and fed, but also provided with working clothes by their master. Under such conditions the wages paid in money to agricultural labourers are extremely low—from three to four pounds per annum in most districts for men, and from two to three pounds for women. In the purely Slavonic portions of Austria the average earnings are even less; yet, notwithstanding these low wages, the lot of a farm labourer in the employ of a well-to-do Bauer is not regarded as by any means an unhappy one.
Unfortunately for the labouring class, however, the requirements of the agricultural districts cannot now give employment to their increasing numbers, and a large proportion is forced to seek work in towns. The effect of this upon Austria's growing industry will be shown in a later chapter; but if we glance once more at the contents of the Feld-Kasten, we shall see that the Austrian farm labourer, when forced to seek work in manufacturing towns, is far better equipped for his new life than an English or Irish agricultural labourer would be.
In the Bauer household a multiplicity of trades is almost always carried on, and no farm labourer would be employed unless he had some knowledge of one or more of them. The leather for shoes and harness is tanned at home, and some of the farmer's men have to assist and work with the professional shoe and harness maker when he pays his periodical visits, thus learning a trade from him. In the same way a new trade is learned by those who work with the tailor and the weaver when they come round.
They have not, it is true, acquired a technical knowledge of a part of a trade, such as would be demanded from them when working in a factory,—where, for example, in the modern system, but very few men would be able to make the whole of a pair of boots,—and they know nothing of machinery; but they have acquired a "handiness," and a capacity for appreciating work that is done well and conscientiously, that are of inestimable value when their labour is transferred to regular factories in towns. The making of carts and waggons, buckets, casks, and many agricultural implements gives the young Austrian farm labourer an almost daily lesson in some new trade.
A Road Scene, Austria, circa 1903. Image from book.
Before returning to the house, my host took me to see his eldest son and his wife; but, with the true yeoman's unflagging industry, the former was then at the other end of the farm, superintending his men in some field-work that had to be finished before night. When his marriage was arranged, the Bauer had realised that the old Dowerhouse would be quite unsuited for the future residence of his son's town-bred wife, and it had therefore been practically rebuilt, and was furnished by the bride's father with new Viennese furniture like that now sold in Paris or London. The young wife herself was bright and pleasing, as Austrian women generally are, her dress simply and tastefully made, and her hair arranged like that of any town girl of the higher classes in Vienna or Paris.
But, nevertheless, on glancing again at the grand-looking old Bauer who had just before been explaining to me the patriarchal life and customs that had made up the existence of his family for generations, one could not help regretting that such extremes of town culture and old-fashioned, solid worth should have met here. They cannot blend, and one is almost inclined to doubt whether the best that modern culture and modes of thought can bring will adequately replace the old-fashioned sterling qualities of simple, unostentatious dignity which they will almost certainly banish for ever.
Hardworking though the Austrian Bauers, rich and poor, unquestionably are, incessant labour is by no means their only occupation, and social gatherings play no small part in their existence. Here, again, we find that a rigid line must be drawn between the customs of even the poorest of the noble landowners and the wealthiest of the Bauers.
As among very many of the richest of the old-fashioned peasantry in France, there is a good deal of the "pride of humility" in the extreme care they take to avoid anything that would look like an imitation of the manners or customs of the nobility, or the town life of the commercial or professional classes. A formal invitation to a dinner or supper is never given. A pretext for asking their friends to come has therefore to be invented, and though the intended supper or dancing-party is never even mentioned, the real object of the invitation is perfectly understood.
An Austrian Bauer is not often at a loss to find some plausible excuse. A message is generally sent some days before to all his "neighbours," many of whom in the mountain districts live miles away. They will be informed that a shed on the Bauer's farm has been destroyed by fire, or that a fence has been blown down, and are asked to be so kind as to come upon a certain day and help to reconstruct it.
In many of the forest regions the young green twigs from the upper branches of fir trees are cut and preserved as winter food for cattle. The custom is very ruinous for the trees, but it affords an excuse for one of the most favourite forms of pleasure-making. In this case a number of vigorous young men are invited, who climb the tall trees, and with sharp axes top off the smaller branches, which they throw down to be gathered up by the girls, who work as hard as the lads in the trees above them.
A good deal of rough play goes on, and merry songs are sung, and when evening comes and the work is over a welcome hot supper is provided, and singing and dancing follow as a matter of course. Customs such as these among the poorer Bauers often partake of the nature of co-operation and mutual aid with some really practical object in view, such as I have described. Among the more wealthy, however, the guests are generally asked to "help," as a mere formality, in some easy occupation, such as sorting the fruit that is to be dried for winter use, which the Bäuerin's household could more easily have done without the aid of her neighbours.
A friendly gathering of this kind had been arranged by my Bauer host and hostess for the day of my arrival, and on our return to the house the sound of laughter and of merry voices was to be heard from the room where the guests had been at work. The preparations for their hospitable entertainment had given the whole Bauer household full occupation for several days before.
This, however, was finished now, and they were all passing the time until the supper-hour in old-fashioned games of various kinds. At length all the guests came into the Stube already described, the men looking wonderfully picturesque in their holiday clothes, while the women and girls made a charming picture in their provincial costume. The men all took off their coats on entering the room, and carefully folded them up.
Comfort and custom make it quite correct, and, indeed, essential, for the men to take their meals on feast days in their white shirt-sleeves, as these form an important part of their holiday dress indoors. It is the pride of the peasantry to show their good manners on such an occasion as this. The men all seated themselves on the benches on one side of the room with an air of preternatural solemnity, while the women and girls grouped themselves together with an expression of demure meekness upon their faces which contrasted rather amusingly with the merry laughter and romping games that we had heard a few minutes before.
Two of the peasant girls attracted my attention as looking rather different from the others. They were the Bauer's daughter and daughter-in-law, who had donned the national costume so as not to spoil the effect by appearing in ordinary modern dress. The women's costume in this district, as well as in part of Styria, is very striking. They wear rather short brown or blue skirts, buckled shoes, and white woollen stockings. Over their skirts they wear an apron of some gaily coloured material, generally blue embroidered with flowers. The old women still wear curiously shaped caps woven in gold thread, richly embroidered, and ornamented with imitation pearls.
Supper at last was ready, and when the steaming dishes were brought in all the guests gathered round the table, and every sound was hushed while the Bauer in solemn tones said grace. This ceremony is never omitted among the peasantry of all classes, and the form of words used in this and many other parts of Austria is extremely quaint and of very ancient origin.
The Bauer cuisine in Austria, like that in Russia, is remarkable for the enormous quantity of butter in which everything is cooked. Meat and poultry, puddings and cakes in endless variety, and the famous Nödel in its many forms, some with sweet sauce and brandy, were all cooked in oceans of butter. At length came the greatest dish of all, the crowning glory of the feast. This is the dessert, which is served in a similar way in rural districts in many parts of Austria and Hungary.
It is an ingenious work of art, placed upon a huge wooden dish, and is made up of fresh fruit, nuts, and curious cakes, garnished with flowers, and also, to add to the fun, with cunningly concealed sprigs of thorns and stinging nettle, while the whole is ornamented with a number of bows of brightly coloured ribbons. It is, in fact, adorned very much as are the dishes, which, in the rural districts of Austria as well as in Bohemia and Russian and Austrian Poland, are taken to the church on certain file days to be blessed by the priest. There is nothing sacred, however, attaching to this dish. It is ceremoniously carried in by the head farm servant, who, knowing what is coming, grasps it with a firm hand.
At a signal from the Bauer, a rush is made for it by all the young men and maidens, and any other of the guests who are daring enough to venture into the melee. In a moment all its beauty is destroyed in the fierce scramble that ensues, and when, a few minutes later the thorn-protected fortress has been stormed and sacked, the victors and vanquished in the fight console themselves, for the wounds their hands have received, with the coffee—no where more delicious than in Austria—which is next brought in.
And now that the feast is over, good manners demand that the guests should assume once more their air of preternatural solemnity, while each in turn approaches the Bauer and Bäuerin, and thanks them in conventional and time-honoured phrases for their good supper, while the host and hostess thank each in similar set phrases for his or her good company. This tribute to good breeding and rural etiquette having been duly paid, the serious demeanour of the guests is once more thrown to the winds, and a new phase of Austrian character takes its place.
The massive table is pushed aside, and amateur musicians take their places at the end of the room. A strange medley of instruments—zithers, violins, anything that comes to hand—strikes up an air as wild as the winds that whistle among their forest pines, or rush roaring over their Alpine crags, to sink at length exhausted in fitful sobs in their sheltered valleys. The dancing begins—but what dancing! Can these be the same stolid peasants who labour so ardently from dawn till nightfall, whose pride it is to provide all the necessaries of life for themselves by their own untiring industry, and who hold themselves proudly aloof from the pleasures of the classes above them? In everypart of the Empire, and among every race, the peasant dances throw a flood of light upon the national character. In the wild enthusiasm of the dance all restraint is thrown aside, and even among the German-speaking peasantry of Austria one is often almost startled by the sudden transformation.
It is, perhaps, not altogether a fanciful idea of the Austrians themselves that the rapid transitions, which in the peasant dances seem to represent almost every phase of human passion and emotion, are due to the strangely mingled ancestry from which the people themselves are descended, and that at such moments the influence of long-forgotten tribes, dating from prehistoric times, once more asserts itself.
It is only, however, when the peasants are dancing in their own homes, and for their own pleasure alone, that these latent traits of character are revealed. However wild and boisterous the dancing may be when intended as a spectacle for visitors, the real poetry of it is wholly lost.
The mere presence of a stranger generally suffices to destroy completely the absolute forgetfulness of themselves, and of all their ordinary life and surroundings, which renders dancing, for the Austro-Hungarian peasantry, a most effective means of portraying every phase of human feeling and passion.
Palmer, Francis H. E. Austro-Hungarian Life in Town and Country. G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1910.
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