The late Gábor Vermes did not live to see the release of this volume, but was able to participate in a book launch in 2011 of its Hungarian version, Kulturális változások sodrában: Magyarország 1711 és 1848 között [In the current of cultural changes: Hungary between 1711 and 1848]. The slight change in title for the English version is interesting and highlights the fact that the developments within the kingdom of Hungary in the period under consideration can only be understood in the context of the larger polity of which it was a part—a point frequently lost on the national narratives of the successor states of the Habsburg monarchy. Yet this is precisely one of the chief virtues of this volume. Vermes’ survey is based not on any new archival research but on a careful rereading of the published sources over a period of some twenty years after the publication of his acclaimed 1985 biography of Isztván Tisza. Because this volume is an English translation of a book published in 2011, it is not surprising that some of the new research on the topic over the last eight or nine years is not reflected in the text or in the bibliography. This does not detract from the value of this thoughtful reinterpretation of the period under consideration, however.

Vermes began by reexamining the famous Age of Reform of the 1830s and 1840s in the kingdom of Hungary and found himself reacting strongly to what he called the “sanitized depiction of this complicated age” (342). This attempt to demystify and unravel the complexities of these decades increasingly forced him to adopt a longer perspective, which in turn led to this broad survey of social, political, intellectual, and cultural trends from 1711 to 1848. The main argument that emerged as a result is that the evolution of Hungarian liberalism was slower and more halting than is frequently argued, and that the forces of traditionalism—above all the nobility's tenacious adherence to privilege best exemplified in the notorious adage “extra Hungariam non est vita”—remained dominant well into the 1830s. The argument is effectively buttressed by using the various diets called during this period as a barometer of the broader developments.

Though the diets under Charles VI (III) are not discussed in detail, Vermes begins his analysis with the essential compromise reached in that reign whereby indigenous Hungarian political institutions and privileges were left intact in return for the permanent integration of Hungary into the larger state complex that constituted the Habsburg monarchy. Despite the famous profession of loyalty to Maria Theresa in 1741, both that diet and the subsequent one of 1751 revealed the strength of adherence to tradition and privilege, while the diet of 1764–65 saw a self-confident nobility resort to unparalleled obstructionism in defense of the feudal order. Joseph II famously called no diet but precipitated a crisis in Hungary by his rash and stubborn reformist zeal, which his successor Leopold II successfully diffused in the diet of 1790–91. Although voices committed to enlightened reform made themselves heard in this period, Vermes argues that their real influence was minimal, and that much of the enlightened rhetoric was only used by the majority of the nobility to buttress “the preservation of its privileges” (134). However, Vermes underestimates the reform commissions (deputatio regnicolaris) created by this diet, which mapped out an ambitious reform program to be implemented by firm executive leadership at regular triennial diets. The sudden death of Leopold II, the accession of his weaker-willed son, and the outbreak of war with revolutionary France put an end to this promising trajectory. The critical 1792 coronation diet of Francis II (I)—which Vermes does not discuss at all—saw the crown capitulating on all the gains of the previous diet, and the abandonment of both the reform program and the triennial diet. The diets convened during the revolutionary and Napoleonic wars (1796, 1802, 1805, and 1808) were less contentious primarily because the threat of revolution “brought about a convergence of interests” (156) between the nobility and the crown. Vermes argues that though some “common sense solutions to problems” were adopted, these could hardly be considered progressive reforms, and in no way affected the “obdurate traditionalism” (164) of the majority.

Nor, contrary to a number of other interpretations, does Vermes see any significant advance of liberalism, which he characterizes as tentative and gradual, during the diet of 1825–27. Indeed, even in the first of the so-called “Reform Diets,” that of 1832–36, the liberal opposition was sufficiently strong “to be noticed,” (268) but not strong enough to exercise any decisive influence. Rather, it was the gradual impact of the reformist ideas of men like Count István Széchenyi and Baron Miklós Wesselényi and the rise of a new generation embodied by the likes of Lajos Kossuth that finally led to a liberal breakthrough in the diets of the 1840s. Even then “other Hungarian realities”—“a rigidly stratified hierarchical society, and a deeply entrenched feudal mentality” (336)—remained. Many of the contradictions were bridged by Magyar nationalism, but Vermes admits that even nationalism could not bridge class and cultural differences, and, of course, it only exacerbated ethnic divisions. Like most nineteenth-century liberals, the failure to see the inherent contradiction between liberalism and nationalism remained the tragic Hungarian flaw that led to Trianon.