FinisTransilvaniae

Mairovitz

The Country. The Fatherland

We were born and raised in a spacious white house in the middle of a large garden which belonged to our father; in front of it there was another house, larger still, that was grandfather’s and then some smaller buildings such as the Stable, the Washhouse… The village, called Maria-Radna, is located in the valley of the Maros river surrounded by low-lying hills belonging to the Transylvanian Alps chain and all within the territory called Transylvania, the biggest region of the Central European country of Austria-Hungary, for centuries the great empire of the Hapsburgs.
Transylvania was a land rich in grain, corn, orchards and vineyards. All the cities in Hungary were well connected by rail. The streets were wide and clean, though not yet paved. At the time there was peace and the country was well-governed and orderly. Or at least so it seemed. About a century ago the official language of those areas was the German of the Austrians, but after some time the Hungarians managed to introduce their own Hungarian language. At a certain point, at the time of my great-grandparents and grandparents, in order to avoid obeying the central government the Hungarians had introduced Latin in the government offices rather than give in to the imposition of the German language, so that my grandmother still remembered her Latin.
Different groups of people speaking different languages lived in Hungary: farmers but also businesspeople in the cities. Hungary was a Catholic country, while the peasants of Transylvania were Orthodox. In the small towns there lived groups of Saxons and Swabians as well who are Evangelicals and were sent to us centuries ago by the Empress Maria Teresa in order to bring their culture to us. For the most part they kept to themselves, but they studied with us Hungarians in the state schools. There were also some Jews. As far as we were concerned, however, religion was never discussed at home.
In Transylvania you can still see evidence of the long Turkish occupation: ruins of fortresses on hilltops, the use of little wooden stalls called BAZAARs, open for the most part in the markets of festivals and displaying useful and attractive objects of every kind. Certain low structures around the small rectangular city squares are obviously souvenirs of the Caravansaries, as is the habit of providing free toilets for public use. But nothing has remained that can recall the Turkish tongue or religion. Their total defeat in 1526 with the death of the King brought no consequences of cultural cross-breeding or religious influence. All that belongs to the past. Wars and Revolutions have destroyed all those lands, shifted the borders of the various countries, transformed customs, traditions, sowed hatred, given rise to episodes of vengeance with everyone against everyone else. And now there is the desire for unity and understanding. Will this ever be possible?

(…) At the beginning of our schooling we first learned German and reading and writing. In those days Gothic writing was still used, which was however abandoned and replaced with the writing of the other European countries. There was also the Cyrillic alphabet, but fortunately that was used only by the Slavs. I do not remember having read any books in Gothic, perhaps only illustrated ones. I loved the picture postcards, which came mostly from Germany – from the STENGEL (I do not know if it that is the way you spell it) company – of famous painters like Rubens and Rembrandt, in addition to the holy cards which Mitzi used to give to me. But then I was of an age for books and I read, read, read…Those were days (or weeks?) that had no hour, no dates, like the beads of a broken necklace, scattered in space. And I, how did I live in that empty haze? I was in another place. I sailed the oceans with Captain Grant, I was searching for the green ray. I was Mowgli’s friend in the tropical forests of the two volumes of Jungle stories. At times, it seemed to me I knew Uncle Tom in his cabin. Or I would go for a walk with the cat who liked to wander about alone. I had understood that a book is an open door to the world and it was then the desire in me was born to be “always on the move” to see and understand, to meet people, to gain knowledge, to turn my experiences in an ever-larger bunch of flowers that do not wither and are transformed into memories.
What does it mean to be Central European

It means many things which you realize when you leave. Why? Because you know and understand more about the continent of Europe and you speak at least two languages. In short: you’ve got a multi-ethnic culture. This does not mean, however, that you feel less attached to your birthplace – if anything, it’s the contrary. Central Europe is a cultural reality. Its territory is furrowed by long rivers, various types of mountain chains, rich in forests. It is home to peoples of various origins – the descendants of Germans, Slavs and Hungarians (Ugro-Finns to be exact which do not belong to the Aryan family) – each with their own language, customs and traditions and belonging prevalently to the Christian faith (Catholic, Greek-Orthodox, Lutheran, as well as Hebrew and rare Islamic groups in the Balkans). Ethnic groupings have remained almost unchanged since the time of the invasions of the Barbarians. While being governed by the Austrian centre with Vienna as its capital, each settlement managed to preserve its identity.

Hand in hand with the Centre in pursuit of the achievements in the Arts and Sciences and contributing to social progress, cultural unity was thus created. An enviable model, the fruit of collaboration in all sectors of Progress made possible by the good Governance of the Hapsburg house, which paid particular attention to the preservation of the values and Ideals of Tradition without harming the right to progress. War and suffering had not been avoided, but the Government’s policies were directed to defending and maintaining the empire secure – something which was made very difficult by the groups of peoples (descendants of Slavs and Albanians in the border lands of the European continent – the Balkans) in constant revolt, instigated by the Pan-Slavic policies of Czarist Russia.

Nevertheless, over a long line of generations, the people of Central Europe lived and progressed in a climate of openness, in contact with their neighbours, acquiring an international outlook which was perhaps richer than that of other countries locked within a narrow-minded nationalism. They are a many-sided and cultured people. They were? I remember the time of my childhood as being full of discussions about Culture. The word was always pronounced with an expression of such grandiose superiority that it was in danger of sounding even ridiculous. It made me think of the image of people savouring an exquisite sweet in their mouths. The arrival of the NEUE FREIE PRESSE newspaper was celebrated to the point of staying in bed and devoured with the greediness of the starving. With their monocles a lorgnon within easy reach, everyone talked endlessly about culture…they seemed half drowned hanging on to the word as though it were a life-jacket. Perhaps it was…then. For a short time still.


Italians. My first years in Milan.

Abroad the image of an Italian was the usual one of the mandolin, sweetly dramatic music, etc. What I found was entirely different: instead of sentimentalism, life was lived with extreme lucidity and calculation. The Italians have no sense of humour. In company, they drink little. It is as if they are always watching one another in order to make a good impression. They are vain. Sex=Secret Married Love. No-one knows how to have fun, cheer is lacking. Shall I go on about the differences I found in Italy? Many: learning the importance of fashionable dressing, with fashion constantly changing. The importance of the neighbourhood in which you live. In Budapest, I was still a student, in Milano Signora Massarani, the Garden Society, the Premieres at the Scala…I learned Italian in a year by reading the newspapers, but not the grammar and I still make spelling mistakes, etc. Everything happened so quickly. Milan in the 1930s was different, but above all it was the Milanese who were different, speaking in their ironical and expressive dialect as great and authentic lords and ladies, the rightful heirs of this land. They had an elegance all their own. Their customs and traditions went far back and surprised me. I learned to drive a car. I didn’t know how to cook and I cried the first time I had to dismiss the “maid of all work. I soon moved to another apartment because now there was my daughter Silvia and the Swiss Schwester. I knew how to do only one thing: receive guests. I was used to it since childhood. We had a large circle of friends. There was what was called “background” even though afterwards historical and political events (the war) destroyed everything…and after…after, once again everything had to be built up again with new friends, but perhaps it was even better than before.