Attila Batár
Transmitting and Denying History
The Watertown in Budapest
Now that the Tabán and Óbuda quarters have been demolished, Watertown (Víziváros) and the Castle District are the sole surviving quarters in which Budapest's rich past is still to be seen. The street pattern, that dates from the Middle Ages, ensures continuity even if the houses themselves have shed the traces of the centuries. The repeated ravages of time have brought new buildings, and the remnants of buildings of various ages are scattered here, there and everywhere in the quarter. The demolition that goes with reconstruction and the building of the new have also interfered with the visible linear chronology of historical development: buildings of the same age, especially the old, are rarely side by side. Eighteenth-century buildings stand next to recently completed ones, the Baroque next to the modern, and the following building may well be Neoclassical. History manifests itself in fits and starts. Vacant lots, the fruits of destruction, are likewise scattered here and there. These unsystematic absences have added to the heterogenous character of the quarter. Because of all this, no particular age, nor any sense of the process of history, creates the character of this district: it is rather the argument of contradictory parts, disorder, interruption and intermixture that prevails, with the only permanent thing being the street pattern. Watertown both transmits and denies history.
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The medieval street grid of Waertown consisted of horizontals taking their cue from the Castle ramparts and steep perpendicular streets conforming to the water flow. Parishes within the Lower Town were named after their churches. Thus Saint Peter's, built where Bear (Medve) Street and Nightingale (Csalogány) Street now cross, provided its name to its surroundings, while Saint Stephen's Church and convent, which stood near the present Corvin Square, also gave its name to a district. However, the area below the Church of Great Saint Mary was known as the Saint Michael district. In the course of time the southern-most area near the Danube came to be known as Fishertown, since many fishermen had settled there. The Slovaks gave their name to Slovak Village (Tótfalu) past the northern slope of Castle Hill. As the Lower Town was built, ethnic groups moved in. Serbs settled in Saint Peter's Town and Jews moved up onto the Castle Hill and its slopes, initially in the mid-13th century. They had a synagogue there. Indeed, at one time Lower Town was also known as Jewtown. During the reign of King Matthias (1458–90) all these were incorporated into Buda.
Under the Ottoman occupation of Buda (1541–1686) another shift in population took place. At first the majority of those who lived in the Lower Town were still Hungarians, but they gradually left and were replaced by others, mainly by Turks, many of them soldiers, who called the area Town (Város). The population was mixed, thus Gypsies lived in the north-eastern part of the town, which was called civitas cingarorum or kopt mahalle. The medieval street grid was confirmed, since the Turks used walls and ditches to create courtyards, known as bölmé. Public buildings had a mixed fate. Some of the churches and chapels, with minarets added, were turned into mosques. Others that had been destroyed were replaced by new buildings.
Nine mosques are recorded for the territory of present-day Watertown, one more than on Castle Hill, plus a number of smaller Muslim meeting houses, Turkish schools and dervish tekke. Indeed, the first Buda pashas made their home there and only moved up later onto the Castle Hill because its ramparts offered better protection against the successive attacks by Habsburg forces. Of the seven baths built in Buda, one predominantly constructed by Arslab Pasha and completed by Mustapha Pasha, was in the Town. It was later known as the King Baths (Király-fürdoý), and is still in use. The Turks improved the waterworks, and tended to the scoop in the southern part of the town, which dated back to the reign of King Sigismund. Buckets fitted on a waterwheel shifted water from a fortified watertower near the Danube up to the Castle. Early in the Turkish occupation many a slender minaret was erected, and domes too, to the enrichment of the skyline.
An earthquake in 1641, the successful siege of Buda in 1686 and the ensuing conflagration in Watertown, for which the pillaging soldiery was responsible, left the district in ruins. The zone of fortifications was extended at the expense of housing. All building was prohibited on the glacis below the walls. Buda took some time to recover. The Imperial War Council allowed only Roman Catholics (that is Germans) to settle on the Castle Hill, the Protestant Hungarians and Orthodox Serbs were allowed to return to Watertown. The Hungarian ratio in Buda dropped from 14 to 5 per cent at that time. Repopulation was delayed. Bavarians, Austrians and Serbs were settled there, and bit by bit also Hungarians from the Danube–Tisza interfluve. Croat Town, in the northern parts of Watertown probably got its name from Croat soldiery billetted there rather than from settlers. Around the end of the war, Croat Town (northern), Watertown (central), and Fishertown (southern) were the toponyms in general use.
Reconstruction after the siege made use of the earlier foundations. Thus the established building lots and street grid remained. The extension and establishment of new streets was only seen in the eighteenth century, when the military permitted the fortified area near the Castle wall to be parcelled up. There was not much chance of new construction in Fishertown (a place apart in Turkish times) south of Fisherman (Halász) Street, in a fortified, constricted terrain. Things were easier in the level areas of Croat Town, right up to the western defensive line, which was its boundary. Those parts suffered most during the siege and were used as gardens, orchards and vineyards for some time afterwards. When the wave of building reached that area there were no ruins in the way of the settlers. As no street grid survived from Turkish times, except for what is now Varsányi Irén Street, at the end of the eighteenth century, a system of more or less perpendicular streets was established in the level area. In some places building lots were handed out free of charge in order to speed up settlement. This was true, for example, of Hoe (Kapás) Street.
Urban open spaces became more important around the year 1700. Fairs were held on Bomb Place (now Batthyány Square) the upper market, while daily and weekly fairs were held in the lower market on Potter's Field (now Szilágyi Dezsoý Square). The location of the upper market was determined by the ferry and landing stage nearby: the upper and the lower markets were the centres of two quarters within Watertown. The fish market was to the south, at the eastern end of the present Carp (Ponty) Street. The cattle market had to be moved within a few years because of lack of space, to an extramural location, in the vicinity of the present Bem József Square.
After the reconquest of Buda, it was the turn of the mosques to be transformed into churches and convents. Around the mid-eighteenth century they achieved their final form. Characteristically, all the surviving Watertown churches line up along High Street (Foý utca) on the flats. Their steeples are like a row of pins. The southernmost, the Capuchine Church (1716) and Convent (1776–77) somewhat clashes with its environs, the Baroque building having been given a Neogothic, romantic exterior (reconstruction in 1851–52). Turkish and even earlier medieval remnants form part of its fabric. St Anne's to the north has a Baroque exterior. Inns once stood on the site, on which a chapel was erected first, then the church 1740–1764). At first St Anne's belonged to the Jesuits. In time a presbytery was added and it became a parish church (1754–1936).
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Uneven buildings
Entering Watertown it would appear that someone is having us on. As if giants had shaken the works of men in their fists like dice, then thrown them onto the terrain. The buildings rolled apart and settled according to their weight. The smaller ones mostly stuck in a place where they found purchase, and the heavier ones rolled on to the more level parts of the slope. Others tumbled onto each other and piled up, while elsewhere empty spaces remained. At first sight it all appears as if pure chance were at work.
In the mid-nineteenth century, large buildings started to replace the single- and small two-storey houses, at first only in the level areas. This was when Pest created the image for which it is still known, with all those quarters of splendidly eclectic apartment blocks. In contrast, in Buda the residential areas on Castle Hill retained their buildings, and thus their genuine historical ambience. Watertown, placed between them, was hybrid. Taller houses on level ground seemed obvious, but the slopes too saw a higher building den-sity and apartment blocks. The impulse was not merely due to building costs. The beautiful view, social status and fashion all had their say. Rising ground prices pushed up the height of buildings in steep areas, that is whythere are particularly tall buildings in the upper zone of the hill, as in Szabó Ilonka Street beneath the Castle ramparts, or at the upper end of Siege (Ostrom) Street.
The new made a breakthrough but fortunately some survivors stayed on, wedged in between the tall buildings which had appeared on steep slopes. The forgotten small houses of the past still surprise us on level ground, such as the hem of Corvin Square or the lone, small-towered late-Baroque building at the corner of Shingle (Pala) Street and the High Street, or the row of small houses on School (Iskola) Street.
Steps on the slope
Much of Watertown was built on a slope, and a steep slope at that. Some of the streets nevertheless take the diritissima for the top. What is special about these steep streets? In their projection some of them follow the line of an exponential curve in their sections. Approaching the Danube, some of them converge to the level of the rivercourse, while their upper half bucks up at the Castle wall. Every steep street has a different way of approaching the Castle ramparts. Some reach the plateau by penetrating the wall. One such is Siege Street at the Vienna Gate (Bécsikapu). There are others that crane as they reach the wall, such as Shingle Street, in its continuation, High-up (Magas) Street. Similarly, the Castle ramparts break the back of Carp Street which, turning at a right angle, transforms itself into the Boat Steps (Csónak lépcsoý). The high wall puts paid to this climb.
In most cases the steep streets are forced to become steps in the heights. First the steps only ppeared on the footpath, but in the majority of cases they spread to the carriageway, prohibiting motorized traffic. The steps are also held up by the Castle. Some drill their way into the bastion, others continue on their way hugging the perpendicular wall.
The list of streets with steps is long: there are nine of them between the Linz Steps and Apor Péter Street, which is a respectable number given that this area is small. Every one of the steps is different, the slope differs, the steps differ and so do the banisters or handrails that hem them in. Or the shadows differ, depending on the type of house or vacant lot next to them. The flora at their sides differs too: bushes, trees, grassy slopes alternate, making some of the steps cool and shady, others sunny. Some offer a view, others block it. The Mulberry Steps (Szeder lépcsoý) are in the middle of a park, they are ample and calm, overflowing with peace. The High-up Steps are also coupled with a park but narrow and modest. Ice-house Street (Jégverem utca) shored up by walls and ballustrades is dignified, but the Linz Steps or the Hunyadi László Steps play hide and seek between bushes or under trees as they climb. The Jesuit Steps are different again. At their end they splendidly dive into the Fishermen's Bastion and merge with it. Once the Gimnázium Steps, which continue from Franklin Street, reach the fortification they falter and crawl up into the Castle. A roof guards these timber steps as they zig-zag under arcades hugging a stone wall. It is the most romantic of all the Steps. The most dignified, however, are the many-branched grandiose Schulek Steps which bear the name of the architect of the Fishermen's Bastion. They are festive and monumental, worthy of leading to the Royal Palace, and not, as they do, just to the Fishermen's Bastion and the back of Buda Castle's Great St Mary's.
The view from the steps is unparalleled. The backdrop differs, depending on whether we turn our eyes to the Castle Hill or to Pest on the opposite bank. Looking in one direction, a wall towers in front of us and a barrier shuts off the view, but should we turn around, the panorama spreads before us. One transports us to the Middle Ages, the other to the present and its world. The vision is shaped step by step.
A centre on the fringes
The ethnic diversity of Watertown is now a thing of the past, the occupational and economic structure has also changed. In the past the quarter was known for its shops and markets, lately, the professions and commercial offices have taken over. New office blocks have mushroomed, primarily on level ground, some of which house ministries and public institutions.
The locals do their shopping under the iron vaulting of the market hall on Batthyány Square, in the Mammut shopping mall on Haymarket or in the lavishly rebuilt Light (Fény) Street Market. All of these are on the fringe of the quarter. Trading streets have also shifted to the fringes. Once upon a time the High Street, which held together the quarter, counted as the centre, now as the quarter has spread in a crescent shape, it finds itself on the perimeter. This is now where the shops are, the restaurants, attractive meeting places, the former Buda Redoute, the Institut Français, the churches, the squares, the King Baths. The promenade along the river bank now belongs to joggers and cyclists rather than to the flaneurs. Margaret Boulevard (Margit körút), the other shopping street, is also a boundary. There shops, cinemas, gaming halls, restaurants and the mall, all cheek by jowl cater to all your wants. Life has been marginalized.
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Waltzing on the fringe
By the second half of the twentieth century, it was traffic rather than building that determined the character of Watertown. The fringes of the quarter bear the burden of this rapid increase in traffic. The High Street, the Quay and Margaret Boulevard are about to cave in under its weight. The roads leading up to the Castle, which bound the quarter at its two ends, Hunyadi János Street and Rampart (Várfok) Street and Siege Street are similarly overburdened. Traffic flashes by noisy and fast. The cable gravity car alone is quiet. Traffic is what brands us these days.
The inner area is surrounded by traffic rushing through, but is itself spared. The steep slope of the hill is avoided by drivers in a hurry. The effect of this maze of steps and stairs, full of cul de sacs and winding steep roads, is that even those streets which are drivable are also avoided. There is no transit traffic in the inner nucleus. The lifestyle slows down, quiet spreads to the heart of the district. You only move about in Watertown if you live there, work there, or study there, or if you find yourself there by chance. Peace reigns, too much peace. The only movement through here is from those taking a shortcut to ascend into the past, to explore the Castle district, or to run down from there to the Danube-bank promenade and the river. The two traffic components of Watertown thus create a contradiction: quiet inside and a racket outside. You would imagine you were not in the same Water-town.
