They Were Divided

by Miklos Banffy

  ‘Almost nothing is initiated nationally to encourage our commerce, though in the last ten years commissions dealing with Szekler and forestry matters have been notable exceptions. However, the artificial separation of our economy from that of the rest of the country has resulted in stagnation and idleness. All the profit of our rich mineral deposits, our mines, forests, power-stations – as well as the accumulated receipts from high taxation – in no way returns home to benefit our own land or its inhabitants.

  ‘It is time, therefore, to call an end to fruitless begging and dreary complaint. We must make it clear that only by acceding to our demands can the country safeguard the future of the average landowner and ensure that a prosperous middle class can be firmly established. For the prosperity of all we must encourage the building up of small and medium-sized agricultural estates, regardless of the creed and nationality of the landowner. It is on this that the advancement of our social and cultural order depends and, above all, it is upon this that the life and dignity of our agricultural population depends. Our peoples must have the liberty and the right not only to work and earn their daily bread but also to own land and gain respect and prosperity as equal citizens of the same country.

  ‘We must have our fair share of the implements of commerce and industry, and so we demand from the national railways, which until now have only served our country in a derisively feeble fashion, that services are introduced that are worthy of the real importance of our land. And we insist that central authority should back fully the development of our industrial potential.

  ‘It is our duty to point out to all Transylvanians that it is in their interest, again regardless of race, language, creed or party, to join this movement. It is their duty, too, to do this now when we stand on the threshold of elections that can influence our entire future.’

  Finally he spoke about electoral reform.

  ‘At the forefront of all political activity stands the question of introducing a just system of voting rights for everyone.

  ‘Admitting the rightness in principle of a system of universal suffrage and in no way wishing, even if we could, to hold up the process of emancipation, we must be careful to do nothing that could hinder the introduction of a law designed to broaden the basis on which we elect those whose function is to make our laws. At the same time we must raise our voices in protest if the chosen route seems to us to be wrong. To the whole nation we must then say that there is no progress if it is not done right, and if we disregard those dangers which would be inherent in any ill-considered legislation. Remember that once this reform has become a reality, it will be here to stay and will not easily be changed or modified. We must be on our guard to make no false steps.

  ‘We cannot accept as a qualification for the right to vote any such simplistic formula as being able to read or write or speak Hungarian properly. This would be no valid criterion of either patriotism or the capacity to vote intelligently. Our conviction is that the coming law must first of all avoid any withdrawal of existing rights, which would only foster resentment and encourage old hatreds, and that secondly it must be based on a realistic approach to the rights of the individual, allowing him in all cases to be able to select those whose integrity, decency and patriotic spirit, and their political maturity, qualify them for a seat among the law-makers.

  ‘We must raise our voices in the cause of sanity and balance, and if we do object to any proposals we think ill thought-out or immature, it must be that we do so only because our aim is peace and harmony in everything that affects the well-being of all and that we set our face against any legislation which appears to favour only a limited section of our society. In defending Hungarian sovereignty we are also defending the security of property and culture.’

  Before coming to a close he listed the movement’s aims and demands and then ended with a few resounding phrases:

  ‘As individuals, scattered over the land, we will achieve nothing. Let us therefore unite, regardless of party loyalties and political conviction, to serve our country as best we may. Let the voters shake hands and stand together to serve those whom we elect to make our laws. And never forget, no matter under what banner you fight, that we are all successors to those worthy forebears whose role, whether eminent or obscure, played such a vital part, century after century, in keeping alive the honour and prestige of Transylvania!’†

  † Translators’ Note: The body of this speech encapsulates much of Miklós Bánffy’s own first speech to Parliament made after the summer election of 1910 when he presented himself to the electorate as a candidate independent of all party ties. All his life, whether as a member of Parliament, minister for foreign affairs, or as a private citizen, Bánffy fought hard for the principles of honesty, decency, tolerance and co-operation between people of all creeds and classes, and above all justice and fair treatment for his beloved Transylvania. P.T. & K.B.-J.

  Chapter Three

  THESE WERE THE THINGS that Balint was thinking about when, early in the afternoon, he started on his way back to Denestornya.

  He was encouraged by the fact that so many had rallied behind his call for support for his proposed Transylvanian Movement. Of course it had only been a beginning, but it had been full of promise, and if every motion in Parliament that concerned Transylvania sparked off another meeting, another discussion, and another agreement, it would not be long before the movement became a force that no one would be able to ignore. And this itself would have further and more widespread effects. Sitting upright behind the steering wheel Balint felt himself once more young and strong and full of hope. The car, as if catching some of its owner’s happy mood, seemed to purr with joy and power as it started up the slope of the Felek.

  As he drove Balint thought back to that time, more than a year before, when in the same car he had driven away from Denestornya after breaking off all relations with his mother because she would not accept his decision to marry Adrienne as soon as she could become free. Although he had been back several times since – for Countess Roza had forgiven her son as soon as she learned that Adrienne’s divorce had become impossible since her husband had gone mad – almost immediately after Balint’s visit to his cousins at Jablanka, then again in spring and in summer, and lastly a few days before when he had come from there to attend that Madam Butterfly at the Kolozsvar Opera, this was the first time that he had felt he was really returning home. Previously there had been no joy in his visits and they had left no mark on him. He had gone back merely out of duty and habit, and he had never been able to throw off the leaden depression that stemmed from those agonized hours of sorrow and self-reproach.

  Until this day everything he had done he had done automatically, but now he felt alive again, thinking with pleasure and eagerness of all the work that lay ahead for him. Now he made plans, fantastic plans, involving ever more work and more responsibility. Such was the effect of his rediscovery and repossession of Adrienne.

  Work, more work! He felt he could tackle anything.

  The previous spring he had been asked to accept the chairmanship of the Consumers’ Council. Then he had hesitated and the question had been left in suspense. Now he decided to accept, but only for Transylvania, and his mind was soon busy thinking out the innovations he would propose and how he would try to improve the range and quality of the goods offered at country markets. He remembered seeing wide-bladed scythes in Holland, similar, he thought, to those in use in Tyrol. Perhaps these could be imported through the Co-operatives? He would introduce new and improved seeds, such as peas … and maybe soya beans. This would all have to be discussed with the agricultural experts so as to be sure of suggesting what would be most likely to succeed and which would prove the most beneficial: he would have to ask Aron Kozma who understood so well the needs and tricky moods of the village folk.

  Where, he wondered, would he find Kozma now? And then he remembered the hunting at Zsuk which had just started and decided he would go himself, which he had not been able to do for the
last year because if he had gone to Kolozsvar there had always been the risk of meeting Adrienne. Of course he could then have stayed at the Hunt Club residence at Zsuk, but he had not been in the mood even though his mother had offered him the best horses in the Denestornya stables. While he had been in that black depression nothing had seemed worth doing, but now everything was changed. He could go where he liked. Everything was wonderful and full of beauty and the promise of joy and pleasure. Life was once again full of delights. Why, he would ride every day and every evening he would go back to town … and every night …

  Already he started to choose which horses he would take with him – Handsome, of course, and Ivy – and which other? Menyet was promising enough, but at only four she was still rather young. Perhaps Csalma, who was sound and rather slow-moving, but all the same reliable. He would have to think it all out and discuss it later.

  So ideas tumbled over themselves in his brain and he was filled with hope and new ideas and expectations. By now he was almost over the last pass of the Felek, which the carters had nicknamed the Horse-killer, and started descending a slope bordered by a few scattered houses.

  Then, unexpectedly, he had to brake and bring the car to a stop.

  A huge flock of sheep blocked the entire road. There were so many that Balint thought there must be between five hundred and a thousand, and this meant that he would have to wait for some time before he could go on. He knew well that sheep would never get out of the way but would just crowd together behind the leading ram, and that the leading ram would not move unless the shepherd was walking ahead. Also there was nowhere else for them to go, for the road through the village was bordered by solid fences, in addition to which it was a steep downhill slope, and the shepherd boys, knowing that anything that frightened the flock would probably make them panic and that some might get trampled to death if there was a stampede, called hurriedly to Balint, ‘Stey, Domnule! Stey! – Stop, Master, stop!’

  Balint did as he was asked and switched off the engine because he realized at once that it would take some time before the sheep could be got through the village and out into some meadow. It was not unknown for it to take nearly a day for a really large flock to cover only a mile or so, which, reflected Balint, just showed that they were not altogether stupid if instinct prevented them from damaging their hooves. And yet it was not always so for those mountain-bred animals were tough and resilient and could be made to move more swiftly when they were on their way to market. Now that they were being taken from one grazing ground to another the leading ram swayed gently from one foot to another almost as if he were performing some slow dance movement while the rest of the flock munched unhurriedly as they went. Some owners used to take advantage of this by renting summer and winter grazing grounds some two or three hundred kilometres apart and for the two or three weeks that it took to go from one to the other the flock fed gratis at the side of the road.

  And so Balint was forced to wait; and on this occasion he did not even feel mildly put out or impatient but called back at once: ‘Don’t hurry! Take it slowly! Slowly!’, for his heart was filled with love for everyone including the dirt-covered shepherds who never changed their clothing for weeks on end, the evil-smelling, greasy sheep flowing like a slow river before him, the dogs filling in the rear and the old donkey, heavily laden with the milking cans and the shepherds’ few belongings. All this is part of our birthright, he said to himself, it belongs to us and to us alone, for strange though it may be, it is one of the peculiarities of our land and is different from any other.

  When the road was finally clear Balint stepped on the pedal and went on his way past woods and forests bright with the golden, copper and saffron colours of autumn and water-meadows still vividly green. Everything seemed beautiful to him, even the occasional bare clay hillside which shone brightly in the late afternoon sunlight. Deeply he inhaled the air that blew so strongly in his face as the car raced homewards.

  Just before he reached the village of Also-Bukkos he noticed a man on a horse just turning onto the main road from a track that led from a nearby valley. It was Gazsi Kadacsay whose own property was not far away. Balint was astonished to see him for Gazsi had never been known to miss a day’s hunting and the season at Zsuk had already begun. He braked and called out:

  ‘Servus, Gazsi – greetings! What are you doing at home at this time? Surely the hunt can’t do without you?’

  Gazsi cantered up to the car, and when he spoke it was with unusual seriousness, quite different from his habitual joking manner.

  ‘That’s just a lot of nonsense, my fr-r-riend. They can do very well without me.’

  Then he went on hurriedly as if wanting to change the subject.

  ‘Are you on your way to Denestornya? If you are going to be there a little while I’ll r-r-ride over to see you. There’s something I’d like to talk over with you.’

  ‘Come whenever you like, my mother is always pleased to see you … and me too, I want your advice on which horses to take to Zsuk this year.’

  ‘Hor-r-rses! Of course, always hor-r-rses!’ Gazsi spoke bitterly, and smiled in a strange manner bending his head sideways so that his long nose once more resembled the beak of some disconsolate bird of prey. ‘But I can’t come right away as I must go to my sister’s at Szilagy for some family business. Can I come in four or five days? It won’t be too far ahead?’

  ‘Of course not, I’ll expect you.’

  They exchanged a few more words and then Kadacsay, calling out ‘Servus!’‚ turned his old saddle-horse away and moved slowly off.

  Balint drove on wondering at the change in his old friend and fancying that maybe he had some money troubles which would explain why he had seemed so gloomy. A few moments later he had forgotten all about it for he himself was so filled with joy and happiness that the possible troubles of other people could not touch him.

  Roza Abady sat on a little bench in the great horseshoe-shaped court in front of the stables at Denestornya. Five colts had been selected as the best of that year’s products and it was now, in autumn, that she always decided which should be paired off to go into harness and which would be reserved for riding. All the horses would soon go into winter quarters but whereas the saddle horses would wait until the spring before their training began, Countess Abady believed in starting to teach the future carriage horses as early as possible when they would be at their most responsive. She knew that no harm would come to them if their first lessons were sufficiently light and steady and no weight was put on their backs. On the other hand it was important to build up the tendons and leg muscles by carefully controlled road work.

  At her right stood Simon Jäger, the chief stable lad. He was a short man of about fifty who stood very straight as if he were sitting a horse, his bowed legs slightly apart. He had served in the hussars some thirty years before and he still wore a short pointed waxed moustache. His cheeks were smooth and red and, though he came of peasant stock, his feet were unusually small. He was the owner of his own land, an estate of some twenty acres, but he still took pride in working for Countess Roza at Denestornya – ‘at Court’ as the local people would say among themselves – not only because it gave him much prestige in the village but also because he loved doing it. His father and grandfather had done the same before him, and his great-grandfather had been Head Keeper to that Abady who had been Governor of Transylvania. And that is how he had acquired his name, as Jäger was the German word for a sporting estate’s professional keeper. And so it had been passed from father to son at a time when many peasant families did not use surnames.

  On the left of the countess was Gergely Szakacs (whose name meant ‘cook’) who had been chief stable lad before Simon, who was twenty years his junior. He too came from the same district and though he was now pensioned off Countess Roza always liked to have him at her side on these occasions for she much appreciated his knowledge and judgement. He came willingly (even though his pension had been paid somewhat haphazardly when the
lawyer Azbej had managed the Abady estate office) for he loved his old mistress whom he knew to be good-hearted, and had been too proud to complain. Also he did not really need the pension money because in the course of a lifetime’s hard work he too had put some capital aside and owned a good house of his own. All the Szakacs had been tall and good-looking and this one had been no exception. Now he was somewhat bent and walked with a stick, but he was still a distinguished figure, with short-cut hair and well-trimmed beard, and had an air of authority which suited his position as one of the pillars of the Protestant church.

  Despite the fact that she herself was as expert as any of them, Countess Roza always liked to have these two with her when these important decisions had to be made. Jäger and Szakacs could voice opinions without being asked, but Feri Rigo, the head coachman who was also always present, could only speak up when appealed to. At present he was standing some ten paces away and passing on his employer’s instructions to the other lads who were walking and trotting the young horses.

  The selection took a long time and finally there were just three colts from which the pair had to be chosen. Countess Roza asked for two of them to be walked up until they were side by side facing where she was sitting, as that was how they would appear when in harness as a pair.

  Roza Abady looked at them for a few moments in silence. Then she rose and walked all round them with her two companions close behind. The young horses stood quite still, not moving until she got close to their heads when both stretched out their necks expecting to be given lumps of sugar; but as today was one of decision and not of cosseting, none was forthcoming. Back went their ears in disappointment. At last she spoke:

  ‘They are very much alike, but I fancy this one is just a trifle shorter. Young Simon, please bring me the measuring stick!’ She still called him ‘Young Simon’ – though as Chief Lad he was addressed as ‘Sir’ by everyone else – just as she had thirty-five years ago when he had been a little stable-boy and she had been almost grown up. Apart from this she had never used the familiar form of address after he had been promoted.