They Were Counted

The Writing on the Wall: The Transylvania Trilogy #1

by Miklós Bánffy, Patrick Thursfield (Translator), Kathy Bánffy-Jelen (Translator)

Painting an unrivalled portrait of the vanished world of pre-1914 Hungary, this story is told through the eyes of two young Transylvanian cousins, Count Balint Abady and Count Laszlo Gyeroffy. Shooting parties in great country houses, turbulent scenes in parliament, and the luxury of life in Budapest provide the backdrop for this gripping, prescient novel, forming a chilling indictment of upper-class frivolity and political folly, in which good manners cloak indifference and brutality. Abady becomes aware of the plight of a group of Romanian mountain peasants and champions their cause, while Gyeroffy dissipates his resources at the gaming tables, mirroring the decline of the Austro-Hungarian Empire itself. The first book in a trilogy published before World War II, it was rediscovered after the fall of Communism in Hungary and this edition contains a new foreword.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Hungary, Classics, Hungarian Literature, 20th Century, Historical

596 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1934

About the author

Count Miklós Bánffy de Losoncz was a Hungarian nobleman, politician, and novelist. His books include The Transylvanian Trilogy (They Were Counted, They Were Found Wanting, They Were Divided), and The Phoenix Land.

The Bánffy family emerged in 15th century Transylvania and established itself among the foremost dynasties of the country. They owned a grand palace in Kolozsvár (Romanian: Cluj-Napoca, German: Klausenburg), one of the main cities of Transylvania and one of the province's largest castles at Bonchida. One branch was raised to a barony in the 1660s, while another became counts in 1855. The barons produced a 19th-century prime minister of Hungary (Dezső Bánffy), and the counts held important offices at court. Among the latter was Count Miklós, born in Kolozsvár on December 30, 1873.

Beginning his political career at the time when Hungary was a constituent of Austria-Hungary, Bánffy was elected a Member of Parliament in 1901 and became Director of the Hungarian State Theatres (1913–1918). Both a traditionalist and a member of the avant-garde, he wrote five plays, two books of short stories, and a distinguished novel. Overcoming fierce opposition, his intervention made it possible for Béla Bartók's works to have their first performance in Budapest.

Bánffy became Foreign Minister of Hungary in his cousin Count István Bethlen's government of 1921. Although he detested the politics of the Regent, Admiral Miklós Horthy, he worked to review the boundary revisions confirmed by the Treaty of Trianon after World War I through which Transylvania had been transferred to Romania. Little progress was made, and he retired from office.

His trilogy, A Transylvanian Tale, also called The Writing on the Wall, was published between 1934 and 1940. Bánffy portrayed pre-war Hungary as a nation in decline, failed by a shortsighted aristocracy.

In April 1943, Bánffy visited Bucharest to persuade Ion Antonescu's Romania together with Hungary to abandon the Axis and sue for a separate peace with the Allies (see also Romania during World War II). The negotiations with a delegation led by Gheorghe Mironescu broke down almost instantaneously, as the two sides could not agree on a future status for Northern Transylvania (which Romania had ceded to Hungary in 1940, and where Bonchida was located). Two years later, in revenge for Bánffy's actions in Bucharest, his estate at Bonchida was burned and looted by the retreating German army.

Hungary and Transylvania were soon invaded by the Soviet Union's Red Army, an event which marked an uncertain status for Northern Transylvania until its return to Romania. His wife and daughter fled to Budapest while Bánffy remained on the spot in a vain attempt to prevent the destruction of his property. Soon after, the frontier was closed. The family remained separated until 1949, when he was allowed by Romanian communist authorities to leave for Budapest, where he died the following year.

A mellowing communist regime in Hungary permitted the reissue of A Transylvanian Tale in 1982, and it was translated into English for the first time in 1999. The Castle of Bonchida is now being restored as a cultural center. An apartment is being prepared for the use of the Count's family.

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is an early autumn of 1904… The young Hungarian aristocrat returns to his home estate in Transylvania from abroad… Just stepping out of his carriage and straight to the ball… There he meets many noble acquaintances and his secret love, who is now unhappily married and deeply disenchanted in life and everything…

‘It’s all untrue. A lie. Everything beautiful is a lie, a deception. Everything one believes in, or wants. Everything one does because one believes it to be helpful, or useful. It’s all a snare, a well-baited trap. That’s what life is and we are stupid enough to be taken in, to be duped.’

While the young protagonist has just become a Member of Parliament and he is full of bright hopes for the future…

‘The opposite is true. Beauty is the only eternal truth there is! Beauty of purpose, of deed, of achievement. That is the only thing worth seeking for, what we must all try to find. Other ethical arguments are false, this is the only real one. Why? Because you can’t define it or classify it, put it down in black and white.’

But soon enough he sees that the Parliament is but an arena for many fruitless political battles… At the estate, being inexperienced, he is deceived on all sides… His love turns into a torment… His talented cousin and close friend who dreams to become a great musician becomes instead a desperate gambler and loses everything…

…behind all this lay the uncertainty of real life; bleak, cold, cruel, unrelenting and evil. In front was every pleasure that man could invent: food to be savoured with knowledge, wine to drive one to ecstasy, beauty, colour, light and the rosy temptation of woman’s flesh to make one forget everything, especially the merciless advance of death which lurked in the shadows behind them.

Intrigues, scheming, politics, corruption, entertainment, anguish of love… The feast of vanity is in full flourish but the fiery writing on the wall is already scribbled.

[Kalliope · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is review of the Transylvania Trilogy, also known as The Writing of the Wall, and I am posting this in each volume. The trilogy is composed of:

They Were Counted
They Were Found Wanting
They Were Divided.

These titles are taken from the Book of Daniel, from the Belshazzar’s Feast, when a hand appeared and wrote on the wall:

God has numbered the days of your kingdom and brought it to an end; you have been weighed on the scales and found wanting; your kingdom is divided and given to your enemies.

This is how Rembrandt saw this episode:




What Banffy sees in this Writing is the Advent of WWI and the end of Hungary’s Dreams.

I would like to read a good biography of Miklos Banffy. He must have been a fascinating person. From what I could learn from the web, he was originally from Transylvania and part of the nobility (a Count). He was an independent Member of the Hungarian Parliament before WWI, becoming Minister of Foreign Affairs during the first period of the Horthy Regency, when István Behtlen was Prime Minister (a relative, and also a Count). It was Banffy who signed the Peace Treaty with the US after The Great War. During his time in the Ministry his main interest was to try and renegotiate the Trianon Treaty and recover for Hungary many of the land tracts lost to its neighbors.

If a great part of his mind and ideals were in politics, his heart lived with the arts. He was a man of the theater, of music and of opera. He was Superintendent of the Budapest Opera around 1906. Puccini’s Madama Butterfly (1898), still a very modern work, features in these novels. He was a friend of Kodaly and Bartok, sponsoring the production of Bartok’s then avant-gardish opera Blubeard’s Castle (1911).

These books--which should be read all three (total of about 1400 pages)--, were written between 1934 and 1940, although the setting is the years before the First War, namely from 1905 to the Fall of 1914. The general impression upon reading is somewhat disconcerting, it feels like a nineteenth century novel, but some more modern elements sometimes creep in, contributing to the general nostalgia for a foregone age.

For me there were two threads of interest in the book. There is a plot embedded in the portrait of a society in the “realist” model tradition, but there is also a highly crafted account of the political inter relations of Hungary, Austria, Transylvania and Romania during those times.

The first thread, or the plot, develops as a family saga with elements of a Bildungsroman, with plenty of entertaining scenes of balls, dinners, shooting-parties, horses and hunts, romances, adulteries, gambling, drinking, dueling, etc. And although it is a society of rentiers, for whom money is present but should rarely be seen, there are also plenty of money issues with debts from gambling, squandering, traumatic inheritances, and situations in which exotic and magnificent pearls are being pawned to save someone’s honor. All this makes for a rich story.

The second thread is the political account. These sections almost read as a chronicle of what was going on in the Budapest parliament from 1905 until 1914. The issues at stake were: a separate Army from Austria’s; the drawing of a new Constitution based on a wider system of universal suffrage with repercussions on the representation of the minorities and consequently on the Parliamentary balance; the conspiracies of the Heir of the Crown, the much hated Archiduke Franz-Ferdinand (István Szabo’s films Colonel Redl and Sunshine come to mind); the possibility of a separate banking System from the Austrian; and the always difficult relationship with the Romanians and the Croatians, etc..

I found this second thread absolutely fascinating and unique. It has a similar value to a document, given that Banffy had been there.

It may have been this part that invited significant criticism amongst the contemporary Hungarians. For although Banffy adored his country (but was it Transylvania or Hungary?), he is bitterly critical of the Politics of Obstruction that set the pace or dynamics within that spectacular Parliament during those crucial years. Inevitably, Edward Crankshaw’ acerbic criticism of the Hungarians in his The Fall of the House of Habsburg comes to mind. Banffy sadly sees his country men as hopelessly parochial, concerned only about their petty internal issues, and dangerously unaware of what was going on outside their borders (soon to be lost).

They were not seeing the Writing on the Wall.

I am surprised this work is not better known. And although in translation, it has been a pleasure to read. The English edition is the fruit of the collaboration between Banffy’s daughter Katalin Banffy-Jelen and Patrick Thursfield.

------

The other two volumes:

They Were Found Wanting

They Were Divided

[Helene Jeppesen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was an absolutely wonderful first installment in a Hungarian, classic trilogy that I didn’t even know about a year ago. The thing about Miklos Banffy’s trilogy is that it seems to be quite forgotten despite its depth and compelling storyline, and that’s a shame!
I went into this first book, “They Were Counted”, with a desire to read a big classic that would take me to a different world, society, and culture, and that would introduce me to a cast of characters that I wanted to spend pages and pages on. That’s exactly what I got! Right from the beginning, we are introduced to a heavy cast of characters which seems overwhelming, but luckily this book comes with a character list. Once you get through the first 40 pages, the story takes off and takes you through everything from epic Hungarian carnivals and balls, disturbing duels, to heated love affairs. This was a comfy read, and I must admit that I adored it from beginning till end. Even the political parts of the book were written in an entertaining way that kept me enthralled and amused.
If you have any interest in reading a grand classic set in a different country from most of the books we (I assume!) read, then I highly recommend “They Were Counted” which left me happy to know that there is much more to come in the second and third books.

[Enrique · Rating 5 out of 5]

4,5☆
Siempre he pensado que da igual de lo que trate una novela siempre que la historia esté bien contada. Y esta meganovela, que consta de tres entregas y que continuaré poco a poco, no hay duda de que sí que está muy bien narrada. Es una de esas obras racimo que nos pone ante nuestros ojos la vida de la antigua aristocracia europea, por más señas húngara, en el momento del imperio austrohúngaro.

Un tratado social que abarca las inquietudes, contradicciones y absurdos de ese estrato social, y la ineludible desembocadura en la Primera Guerra Mundial: todo ese caldo de cultivo de tensión geopolítica en la zona que desembocará en la Gran Guerra.
 
El protagonista me atrevo a considerarlo el alter ego del autor, Miklos Banffy: un joven diputado de origen aristócrata transilvano (Transilvania pertenecía a Hungría y no a Rumanía) que llega a comprender con un profundo alcance existencialista, lo absurdo de la clase a que pertenece y la vida que lleva: los debates políticos con asuntos en conflicto ridículos (p.e. la voz de mando en el ejército en austriaco o en húngaro, y no las diferencias culturales y las distintas e irreconciliables idosincracias de ese enorme imperio), las batidas de caza durante la trmporada del pato o el corzo, las celebraciones y bailes en palacios y castillos señoriales, la ociosidad y vida contemplativa generalizada entre sus pares. Tremendamente lúcido y creíble este fantástico protagonista, Balint Abady, que como digo me da la impresión de ser en buena parte el propio autor
 
Muy buenas las dos historias de amor que se cuentan entreveradas; y yo me pregunto ¿qué otra historia se puede contar con mayor emoción y sentimiento que las relacionadas con la cuestión sentimental, y máxime si son vivencias propias, como da toda la impresión? Le da tal sentimiento de veracidad a la narración y lo dota de tal credibilidad que por momentos puede emocionar a un/a lector/a sentimental, podría humedecer algún lagrimal.

[Roman Clodia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in Hungary in 1905, this is a huge, sweeping novel that has something of the tone of nineteenth century classics: Trollope’s political novels, say. Bánffy’s writing is accessible and natural, switching easily between social scenes of balls, country house parties and duels (so many duels!), and tempestuous sessions in parliament as the tension between Hungary, its politicians and the Austrian rulers of the empire in Vienna come to a head in the run-up to WW1.

The politics are interesting but Bánffy clearly expected his contemporary audience at the time of writing to be familiar with politicians and political parties in a way that we’re not today so be prepared for some Googling to keep up with the factionalism. The role of ethnicity is especially arresting as we witness the friction between Hungarians, Transylvanians, Romanians, Croats and Serbs so that issues such as what language should be used to issue commands in the Hungarian army are vexed politicised problems with much at stake.

In the foreground are the love affairs of Transylvanian cousins Balint and László who both have problematic relationships with their women. With a caddish army officer (shades of Austen’s Wickham from Pride and Prejudice), gambling debts and all those duels, there’s much to absorb here. It’s a shame, then, that the characterisation can be a little thin at times with many names dropped in and attached to people who are no more than walk-on parts.

This feels wildly romantic in places in a Werther-esque way, but is also a detailed and nostalgic portrait of both a way of life and a region which were transformed by the catastrophe of WW1. Bánffy is sardonic about the way in which Hungarians are parochially concerned with internal politics, ignoring events in Germany and Russia – but it’s perhaps always easy to say that with hindsight.

Overall, then, a long and absorbing read that offers a window on a world that feels both familiar and simultaneously long gone. Oh, and did I mention the duels?!

[Ian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Love and politics are the theme of this extraordinary Hungarian novel, set in the first decade of the 20th century.

The novel features a large cast of characters but essentially follows the differing fortunes of two young aristocratic cousins from what was, at the time, Hungarian Transylvania. The first, Balint Abady, is a Independent Member of the Hungarian Parliament, of liberal inclinations, in love with a woman unhappily married to someone else. The other, Laszlo Gyeroffy, is a talented musician with a dangerous addiction to high stakes gambling, whose own love interest is opposed by the girl's parents.

I confess that when I ordered this I had not realised it was quite such a mammoth tome - my copy has nearly 600 pages of quite small print, and this book is only the first in a trilogy. Translating this from Hungarian must have been a massive undertaking. The novel opens with a party, that is clearly a device to introduce the cast of characters prior to developing the story. This initial chapter is quite off-putting, with unfamiliar Hungarian names coming at the reader thick and fast, but stick with it and you will thoroughly enjoy the story that follows.

The author, Count Miklos Banffy, was himself a Hungarian aristocrat from Transylvania, a province with an ethnically diverse population, which was transferred to Romania after Hungary's defeat in WWI. Hungary in fact lost over 70% of its pre-war territory in the Treaty imposed by the Allies after the War. The novel was written after this event, and you can sense the author's heartache at the loss of the world he so clearly loved. Beautiful descriptions of the Transylvanian landscapes and culture are mixed with contemptuous descriptions of the machinations of pre-WWI Hungarian politicians, whom the author portrays as inward looking and obsessed with absurdly trivial issues; completely unaware of the crisis that was building in Europe and which would eventually devastate their country.

The novel provides a really fascinating insight into the aristocratic world of Central Europe at the time, with its elaborate duelling and courting rituals, and where formal manners disguised backstabbing and malicious gossip. There is, it must be said, a fair dollop of melodrama in the aspects of the story that deal with the love affairs, but as the novel progressed I became quite attached to Balint and Laszlo and to the ups and downs of their lives. Balint gradually experiences a political awakening as he learns of the exploitation of the Romanian peasantry by some unsavoury local officials, and there is an entertaining subplot involving an Austrian cad trying to marry into money to pay off his debts.

If you read the novel it probably helps if you know a little about Austria-Hungary during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, as this helps set the political themes in context. I certainly intend to read the remaining parts of the trilogy, though in this case I think a little absence will make the heart grow still fonder...

[[P] · Rating 5 out of 5]

When, in the 1920’s, George Mallory was asked why he persisted in trying to climb Mount Everest his famous response was “because it’s there.” A pretty fucking brilliant retort, even though it isn’t clear what exactly he meant by it. Did he mean I’m doing it because I can? Or because it [climbing] is what i do? Or was he just taking the piss? The beauty of his response is how enigmatic it is, how insouciant. If I had to give my own interpretation of Mallory’s words, if I had to make a guess as to what is at the heart of a desire to climb Everest, I’d say that what it truly comes down to is man’s conquesting spirit. That spirit is evident in many things – sex, war, business etc. Reading too. Why do so many people make repeated attempts to read James Joyce’s Ulysses. Because it’s there, right!? Sure, you could read The Great Gatsby but that takes no balls, no commitment; it involves no possible sense of achievement, no risk. The Great Gatsby? 170 pages? No, no, every so often one must step into the ring with a true heavyweight.

Miklos Banffy’s The Transylvanian Trilogy weighs in at something like 1400 pages, broken down into three volumes. It is not a book to trifle with. It will punish your wrists; and while it may not be, like Ulysses is, difficult to read, it will, at times, test your patience, your endurance. As will this review, most likely. Before I get to all the things I have loved about the first volume, They Were Counted, I ought, because there is really only one issue or problem of note to discuss, to get the negative out of the way. There is quite a bit of obscure politics in the book. Not so much that it becomes unbearable, but certainly enough for those of us who are not fascinated by the finer points of Austro-Hungarian historical political conflict to occasionally switch off. Truth be told, a good deal of that stuff not only left me cold [and I am a man who enjoyed the farming discussions in Anna Karenina!], but actually confused me. Banffy, probably not expecting his work to have a large international audience, appeared to assume that the reader would know and understand what he was writing about. Therefore, very little is explained in layman’s terms.

However, even if these sections are confusing or sometimes tedious, it is clear that the main thrust of the conflict was the independence of Hungary. Yet more importantly Banffy’s aim, his point, is also clear, which was to satirise and wag his finger at the Hungarian aristocracy and politicians. While the book is more popularly referred to as The Transylvanian Trilogy, Banffy actually titled his work The Writing On The Wall. My understanding of this title is that it is a judgement. Nearly all of the political sections of the book descend into farce, with egg-throwing or violence or general idiocy or silliness. The author appeared to be saying that these people, who cannot take this most serious of subjects seriously, are doomed, that they are, in fact, doomed because they are too frivolous, or silly or corrupt etc.

In any case, political conflict is only one of the three main narrative strands; and the other two are, thankfully, far more engaging. These involve the relationship between Balint Abady and Adrienne Uzdi and the ups and downs of Balint’s cousin Laszlo Gyeroffy. I won’t say too much about Laszlo because, while I very much enjoyed all his bits, there is nothing out of the ordinary about his tale. He falls for a girl, he loses the girl, he drinks, he has sex, and he gambles heavily. He’s a good man, but he is weak; and, more importantly, in terms of understanding his behaviour, he has a big chip on his shoulder about his status as an orphan. This inferiority complex makes Laszlo needy, both for affection and acceptance. It is the need for acceptance that leads him to gamble, and his need for affection, for constant reassurance, that leads to him ruining his chances of happiness with Klara.

If Laszlo’s story is pretty standard [but enjoyable!] fare, Balint’s and Adrienne’s relationship is, on the other hand, one of the most extraordinary and moving I have ever encountered. It is revealed early on that the pair had a friendship and perhaps a mild flirtation in their youth. Eventually Balint went away and Adrienne, desiring most of all her freedom, married Pali Uzdy even though she didn’t love him. When Balint returns the couple meet and rekindle their friendship, which develops into a love affair. So far, so predictable. However, when Balint tries to push his luck and get in Adrienne’s knickers she recoils. The reason for this gradually becomes clear to Balint over the course of They Were Counted, but from the very beginning it dominates their relationship. What is the reason? That her husband has been raping her since the start of their marriage.

Banffy handles the whole thing with admirable subtlety and sensitivity and, bearing in mind that rape within marriage is a controversial topic even now, bravery. Not only that but he, incredibly, manages to wrest beauty out of it. For example, there’s a wonderful scene when Balint asks Adrienne for a kiss. While he, being experienced, expects a passionate open-mouthed kiss, she responds with a closed mouth. She doesn’t do this because she is unwilling, but because she simply doesn’t know how to kiss properly. This kiss is a pivotal moment in their relationship. At first, Balint is astonished, confused. Previous to this incident he had thought that she was being physically standoffish, or prudish, or playing games; yet after the kiss he comes to realise that isn’t the case, that she is merely artless, like a child, because she has never been given the opportunity, due to being married to a brutal and violent man who cares nothing about intimacy, to learn. Honestly, there was a little lump in my throat. I actually knew a girl who kissed in the same way, in short bursts with a closed mouth. Unlike Banffy’s character she was sexually very open and willing, but it was obvious to me that, despite her age, she had never been kissed passionately by someone who cared about her enjoyment. It was very sad.

Adrienne is an amazing creation. I believed in her completely. In fact, in my opinion, she absolutely dominates the book. Her journey is one of self-discovery, of sexual enlightenment and empowerment; she literally becomes a woman before our eyes. For me, Balint is almost irrelevant in this, he is merely the conduit, he allows her to find herself. Yet, I do not want to give the impression that she falls into bed with him and all is wonderful. The first volume is over 600 pages in length; her journey is a long and often painful one. Adrienne spends a large part of the novel pushing her lover away, refusing to allow him to touch her. I have known more than one woman who has been the victim of rape and, although I am obviously no expert, Banffy captures the fear, shame, anger that, in my experience, they often feel; he also, crucially, captures the great strength of character as well as the vulnerability. I was so, so impressed by all this. In fact, nearly every female character in the book is wonderful; they nearly all have great depth, which is not true of all the male characters. Indeed, the more I think about it, the more I am of the opinion that the abuse of women is one of the book’s major themes. The Countess Abonyi is ill-treated by Egon Wickwitz, who steals her money; Egon also cynically manipulates Judith Miloth; Balint’s mother is being hoodwinked and taken advantage of by her employee Azbej; Fanny Beredy is essentially used by Laszlo; a young maid is raped and made pregnant by the Kollonich’s butler; and so on.

Of course, I am less than halfway through the book, having only completed one volume. So it is possible that these ideas and reflections will not hold true for the whole of the series. I can, obviously, only write about my experience of the work at this stage. In any case, there is no question of me not carrying on, of not reading the next two volumes. Because they are there? No, because I expect them to be equally as brilliant as this one.

---

The Transylvanian Trilogy
Part 2: They Were Found Wanting https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Part3: They Were Divided https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[Joy D · Rating 4 out of 5]

“How simple everything could seem if one looked only at the figures, those cold statistics that took no account of people's feelings and traditions…What of the myriad individual characteristics, passions, aspirations, triumphs and disappointments that together made one people different from another? How could anyone ignore all the different threads of experience that, over the centuries, had formed and deepened the differences that distinguished each nation?”

Published in 1934, this book covers a wide swath of Hungarian and Romanian history. It is set in 1905 in Transylvania, which was then part of Austro-Hungarian Empire and is now in Romania. Protagonist Count Balint Abády lives in castle Denestornya, his family’s estate, in the countryside near Kolozsvár. He is part of the upper class and an elected official in Parliament. He is in love with Adrienne, an unhappily married woman. His cousin, Count László Gyeroffy, is in love with the beautiful Klara Kollonich, but his habitual gambling comes between them. It is a sweeping saga of society, love, and the political situation in Austria-Hungary at the time.

There are many characters in this book, but the main storyline focuses on a few, and these few are well-developed. The pace is a bit slow at the start but becomes steady once the characters are introduced. The perspective is third person omniscient, so the reader is privy to their inner thoughts. There are many miscommunications, people out for revenge, duels, hunting parties, balls, gossip, horse races, political intrigue, servants delivering private messages, romantic liaisons, trips abroad, and ventures into rural areas where we see how people of lesser means are living. It portrays the lead-up to WWI and how warning signs were ignored, while the upper classes continued their lavish lifestyles.

This book is wonderfully written. Count Abády is a particularly well-crafted character – he lives by an honor code, wants to help the people living on his land, and struggles with his shortcomings. It is easy to picture the social gatherings – which apparently lasted all night and broke up in the early hours of the morning. It contains beautiful descriptions of the countryside.

“As Balint stood there, motionless, rapt in a new sense of delight and exaltation, seven fallow deer appeared slowly from a group of pines. They were wading knee-high through the morning haze, two does with their fawns and three young females, and if they saw Balint they did not take any notice of him but just walked quietly and sedately on until, after a few moments, they disappeared again into the shadow of the trees. Their sudden appearance in the distance in front of him, and just as sudden disappearance a moment or two later contributed strongly to Balint's sense of wonder and enchantment.”

This book would make a great mini-series. It reminded me of a Hungarian/Romanian version of Downton Abbey. It provides an opportunity to learn about the history of Transylvania in an entertaining manner without the gothic overtones normally attributed to the area. Though it is lengthy at around 700 pages, I was always anxious to pick it up.

4.5

[Bettie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Description: Painting an unrivalled portrait of the vanished world of pre-1914 Hungary, this story is told through the eyes of two young Transylvanian cousins, Count Balint Abády and Count László Gyeroffy. Shooting parties in great country houses, turbulent scenes in parliament, and the luxury of life in Budapest provide the backdrop for this gripping, prescient novel, forming a chilling indictment of upper-class frivolity and political folly, in which good manners cloak indifference and brutality. Abády becomes aware of the plight of a group of Romanian mountain peasants and champions their cause, while Gyeroffy dissipates his resources at the gaming tables, mirroring the decline of the Austro-Hungarian Empire itself. The first book in a trilogy published before World War II, it was rediscovered after the fall of Communism in Hungary and this edition contains a new foreword.

Opening: The radiant afternoon sunlight of early September was so brilliant that it still seemed like summer.

We open with Balint Abády, who is actually a goodie, heading towards a meet up with László Gyeroffy (geroff?). There is much reminiscing as the fiacre wends its slow way through the dusty landscape, and we are made privy to family relationships and personal biographies.

The style is epic storytelling along the lines of War and Peace or Celestial Harmonies and I have a pad and pen to hand to jot down the many characters. Throughout, much appeal is made to Ethos, Pathos, and Logos (no, they are not the three musketeers) and 'They Were Counted' certainly is powerful enough to evoke strong feelings within the reader.

Unlike the blurb on the back cover, courtesy of Jan Morris of the Observer, this is not "perfect late night reading", I need my wits about me to deal with the extensive cast and the historical implications. So it's a daytime read for yours truly: read that as 'this may take a while'.




TRIVIA:

Hungarian revolution 1848

□ □ □ □ □ □ □

The titles of this trilogy have their source here:

Daniel 5,5: Suddenly the fingers of a human hand appeared and wrote on the plaster of the wall, near the lampstand in the royal palace. The king watched the hand as it wrote.
6 His face turned pale and he was so frightened that his legs became weak and his knees were knocking. [..]
25 “This is the inscription that was written:

  

    mene, mene, tekel, parsin
  

26 “Here is what these words mean:
Mene: God has numbered the days of your reign and brought it to an end.
27 Tekel: You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting.
28 Peres: Your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians.”

□ □ □ □ □ □ □

Snippets about the author and his ancestors:

Bonțida Bánffy Castle - desecrated by the Nazis, ignored by the soviets.

1935

1935



The author as Minister of Foreign Affairs of Hungary (1921-1922)

For fun, I did a search on 'Bánffy Esterhazy' to see just where and if a connection was made and looksee here:


Ágnes Esterházy de Galántha (born Bánffy de Losoncz), 1754-1831
Ágnes Esterházy de Galántha (born Bánffy de Losoncz) was born on month day 1754, to Dénes III Bánffy de Losoncz and Ágnes Bánffy de Losoncz (born Barcsay de Nagy-Barcsa).
Ágnes married János Esterházy de Galántha on month day 1777, at age 23 at marriage place.
János was born on October 18 1754.
They had one son: Mihály Esterházy de Galántha.
Ágnes passed away on month day 1831, at age 77.
- Source

More fun is this clip: Banffy Castle in Cluj, is in repairs for 13 years, and untill the end there's a long way. Prince Charles of Great Britain saved it. Under the guidance of a British architect, it began the renovation of the castle once called the Versailles of Transylvania. (How can that woman talk so fast?)

□ □ □ □ □ □ □

[Caroline · Rating 4 out of 5]

Banffy may not have been in the running for the Nobel Prize in Literature, but he would have been a contender for ‘How much foolish and self-destructive behavior can you squeeze into 600 pages?’. It’s interesting to me that almost every page contains echoes of other readings from the period: the legacy of Victorian repression, Belle Epoque indulgence, and looming crisis.

As in The Late Mattia Pascal, by Pirandello and published just a year before the end of this work (which I just finished), we have devious estate managers defrauding innocent widows and their children, naïve young men bumbling into disaster or narrowly missing it by trying to do others a favor, gambling as an essential plot element, defense of a gentleman’s honor according to a ridiculously bureaucratic code, and horns on many a husband. In both cases mothers are central, and never in a good way. They are weak guides for fatherless sons, grasping schemers of marriageable daughters, and nightmares as mothers-in-law. And as in Andres Neuman’s Traveler of the Century, set a little farther north earlier in the nineteenth century, we have lovers meeting incredibly rashly in chapter after chapter while we wait for the inevitable discovery and revenge of husband or fiancé. But does it actually arrive, or are we kept on the edge of our seats to the end?

They Were Counted, however, is notable for its dissection of the upper class’s preoccupation with social life to the seeming exclusion of the responsible governance of the country and the management of its economic affairs. Their lives are portrayed as an endless cycle of balls, hunting parties, trips to Baden or the Riviera for their health, and love affairs. Both heroes and villains show up for legislative sessions and military service when it’s convenient, and think nothing of extended leaves when personal affairs preoccupy them. Many of the men gamble and/or drink heavily on a nightly basis; one of the most powerful themes of the book is the grip that gambling takes on a promising young man.

The lack of either father or mother in his case emphasizes the role of parenting or lack thereof. Strangely, the one Hungarian father who actually plays a small role in the story is an ineffectual counter to his strong-minded wife. The one Romanian father is a different story altogether, and the relationship of the Transylvanians to the Romanians is an interesting theme throughout.

There is, woven through the events and prompting many of them, high emotionalism. It prompts wild drinking parties of men to gypsy music, passionate love affairs, soulful devotion to both traditional and new music, fine horsemanship, and of course gambling. The agony of debt and looming dishonor hover over many.

They Were Counted ends in 1905, as Austria was answering Hungary’s rather puny attempts to gain more independent status by imposing universal suffrage on it. (There had been in place a dual system whereby Hungary actually had its own legislature and some independence, while recognizing Franz Josef’s ultimate authority.) The Hungarian opposition had been rabble rousing by demanding items that Banffy ridicules here: army uniform changes, army commanders to speak Hungarian rather than German, etc. Apparently there were also land ownership requirements for suffrage and a non-secret vote. So the upper class’s noisy attempts to assert their honor through petty military affairs results in their potential future downfall as the vote is given, at Hungary’s insistence, to all (men, presumably). The first volume in the trilogy ends as this evidence of their actual lack of power is being forced on the Hungarian parliament.

Set against this are the attempts by two characters to act responsibly and promote social and political improvement. One naïve protagonist works ineffectually on a small scale. The other, a very cagy and experienced older man who could serve as a father figure for the younger, is however focused on a much bigger game that countervails the younger man’s efforts.

About 10 percent of They Were Counted concerns these political machinations directly. About 20 percent concerns the political economy of Hungary in the sense of describing the ways that estates were governed and the relationships of landowners to the peasants and employees who worked and managed their lands and the petty officials around them. The rest is the above-described foolishness. Although it’s often a bit tedious, the balance and the focus do leave you with a feeling for the period and the oblivious disregard of the larger world that existed in Hungary prior to Sarajevo.

At first I thought I might not go on to the other two volumes, but writing this review has led me to consider Banffy’s aims more thoroughly, and I think I’ll continue.

[Liviu · Rating 5 out of 5]

The best description of the novel and of the trilogy so far at least is Gone with the Wind of the Hungarian Empire; this description of an unjust and oppressive world on the brink of being swept away from history, but you still cannot stop but turn the pages, empathize with Balint Abady and his pathetic tries to improve things (laughed at both by his peers and by the representatives of the oppressed for different reasons of course) or with his love for the unhappily married Adrienne, while following the tribulations of his orphan gambling but sympathetic cousin and of various aristocrats, fortune hunters, noblewomen....

The novel takes a little to get going but once the stage is set and we start understanding the delicate set of rules and relations that govern the aristocracy of Hungary and Transylvania, it is a true pleasure to read.

The parts set on the hero's estate and castle (modeled after the author's estate which was destroyed by the retreating German army in late 1944 as revenge for his attempts to engineer an withdrawal of Hungary form the war) are lyrical while his love affair with Adrienne is one of the most touching that I've read in a while.

Very strong characters abound - not least the hero's mother, the widowed Countess Roza Abady who rules the lands, while the young Balint moves from diplomacy to politics and becomes a deputy in Budapest

Duels, parties, intrigues and even a touch of Jane Austen with the rogue handsome officer out for seducing young noble girls in hope of marrying a rich heiress, elopements and all

[Phrodrick slowed his growing backlog · Rating 5 out of 5]

Based on They Were Counted: The Transylvanian Trilogy, Volume 1 by of Count Miklós Bánffy de Losoncz’s, these books are worthy of far greater attention. A reason why they are relatively unknown may be that they have not been available in English for very long. Published in Hungarian originally in 1930, but no complete English edition until 1999. Note that this, the Everyman’s Library edition is translated in part by the author’s daughter.

There is much about this long lead in to the tragedy of Eastern Europe due to World War I and various internal, historic and external pressures could be argued as parallel to Gone with the Wind also originally published in the 1930’s. GwW is about the forced death of the Plantation, slave owner life style. The Transylvania Trilogy is about the end of a much older, tradition bound world of ancient titles and old money privilege. Whatever was Margaret Mitchell’s intended audience, Banffy’s book is unlikely to appeal as popular fiction.

Others have compared this trilogy with War and Peace. An almost required comparison with any historical fiction that is long, Eastern European and claims to high literature. Simply stated, Tolstoy is a better writer and his book is more about how war effects a few people while giving the author plenty of time to discuss his philosophy of history and nascent spirituality. W and P can run over 1100 pages and this trilogy, in this edition runs about 1500.

Had Trollope the freedom to write out side of the often-passionless constraints of the overly mannered Victorian novel I believe his Palliser novels would have been a lot like the They Were Counted.

I consider this book to be less than Tolstoy and at least on par with Trollope. Better given the greater freedom allowed a novelist writing in a more modern style.

For me a testimony to the quality of the writing (and the translation) is that it was easy and a pleasure to finish over 600 pages in barely 2 weeks. I took about a week off and am over 100 pages into volume II after 4 days.

Baron Banffy is writing of things he experienced as a member of an old, wealthy and influential Hungarian family. He was connected to important political figures, and he became a member of the Austro-Hungarian Parliament and held important ministerial posts. He lived to survive the destruction of all he and his had enjoyed. Hence my Gone with the Wind comparison.

Volume I takes us deep into the traditions of a world so inwardly attuned as to be oblivious to any of the larger threats that will over take them. It is fair to say that privilege, tradition and habit are only a few of the reasons why history can over-take us all. There is little evidence that the peasants or the merchants were any more alert to their vulnerability to the several whirlwinds that would mutilate, end and change lives between 1905, as the novels open and 1919 and soon to be imposed realities.

Among many the things I admire about this book is its deliberate structure. Volume 1 book 1 introduces us to a large number of characters while making it clear that only a few will be important. Our two main protagonists are Count Balint Abady, first term member of Parliament, wealthy and well intentioned and sometimes a prig and his cousin the musically inclined Count Laszlo Gyeroffy. Yes, a reader will have many of the same problems keeping names straight as is a common complaint with Russian novels. Having introduced the cast, book two will lead us through the initial relationships, love lives and important pairing that will dominate the books, and in book 3, still in Volume I, the plot begins to unfold.

The plot, actual several plots will be developed in vary well structure deliberate steps. Having shown us just how insular and tradition bond is this world, it is Edenic. The allusion is deliberate as one or more snakes will be introduced to mislead, seduce or threaten destruction.

I also like that none of the main characters are perfect. Each has weaknesses, blind spots or other traits that can make them less than heroic. The above-mentioned men drink too much and have too many excuses for too many personal excesses. They can over romanticize the women of their class even as they target them for casual affairs. And they can be casual bout dabbling among the less titled, and therefore more available women. This world is nearly feudalistic and all classes are inclined to make extreme allowances for the male nobility.

Politics play a much more important role in this Book than in the above-mentioned Trollope books. Many readers may be inclined to shrug these pages off as intrusive and boring. If you are a rich Hungarian of the period nationalism may make you highly partisan, but to many your boredom mirrors theirs. This is only book one and we as readers this many years later have reason to believe that politics may become a lot more important than the presence of very expensive silver service and finely attired women in the latest silken sheaths.

Another thing I like about this book is the ability of a reader to read a paragraph and be clear that something happened and what that something was and how it moves the story forward. . A very dramatic moment happens when two characters declare their love for each other. This is done with a single kiss. Not some protracted negotiations over loaded with ‘by your leave’ apologies and financial balance versus romantic interest , then ending with some sterile hand holding. People get drunk, dance wildly and suffer the morning after.

Absent attention a reader can miss things. Banffy is adept with foreshadowing, but he may be one to tease in ways that are not supposed to be part of novel writing. Then again, I have about 700 pages to go. Some by the author hints may play out yet.

As is typical with Everyman Library editions the binding is nicely done and complete with a place holder ribbon. At my age I am aware of font size and style. I still need my reading glasses but just barely. Many will consider these editions as pricey, but I think value for the price. Kindle editions are also available.

[Petra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh boy, what to say about this one? It's a hidden gem. This is rich, epic, wide and, as the first of a trilogy, incomplete. The fate of the characters isn't known yet and I want ot read the next volume soon. This story unwinds at a steady pace and the fate of the characters become meaningful to the reader (at least, this reader).
Contained in this volume is a wonderful rendition of aristocratic life in Hungarian high society, as well as a look at the situations/difficulties of the servant class. There's power in all levels; the aristocrats have power of estate, the head servants have power of the lower servants, the priests have power of the isolated villages.
None of the main characters holds a job, other than being a member of Parliament. There are high class balls & dances with flowing champagne, hunting trips in the mountains, social dinners, beautiful, icy country estates, lively casinos, etc. This is high society living it's decadent, extravagant life. It's sparkling, exciting, wonderful to read about. Yet, it's also wasteful, in it's way. And it's contrasted with the helplessness of servants thrown out at a whim, lives destroyed and then forgotten. Perhaps that's what Banffy is getting at? All this decadence comes with an element of power but also a blindness?

Also, more in the background, is the unrest and turmoil starting in Parliament. These are the years pre-WWI but there are years to go yet (the book is set in 1904-05). The infighting is mainly about whether to ally with Austria or not. This argument is set to divide the aristocracy. It bodes ill for the future of Parliament. Again, perhaps Banffy is pointing out a blindness, of sorts?

This book reads easily and is compelling. I want to read on to find out how our characters fare. Their lives are changing and there's no clear path ahead. Banffy has done a wonderful job of showing individuals, a people and a country on the verge of change without a clear path. If the other 2 volumes continue as well as this, this is a gem of a trilogy. As it stands, this is a good read on it's own.

[Núria · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘Los días contados’ de Miklós Bánffy es un novelón de esos que me gustan tanto a mí, de esos con regusto a clásico decimonónico, con duelos, adulterio, algunas chismosas a las que les encanta propagar rumores, un cazafortunas, personajes que se endeudan hasta las cejas por culpa del juego, etc. Bánffy fue un escritor y político de origen aristocrático perteneciente a la minoría húngara que habitaba en Transilvania, un territorio que ahora forma parte de Rumanía, y es éste ambiente, que tan bien conoce, el que retrata: el de la aristocracia húngara en Transilvania de principios del siglo XX, con sus bailes fastuosos, sus fiestas y sus cacerías.

Los personajes principales son dos primos: uno es un político idealista (y algo ingenuo) y el otro un músico de talento con cierto afán autodestructivo. Pero a su alrededor hay una gran cantidad de secundarios bien descritos que enriquecen la trama, que se desenvuelve con ritmo certero y bien marcado. ‘Los días contados’ habla de amor (y sus dificultades), de convenciones y convencionalismos sociales, de impotencia ante las circunstancias externas, de renuncia y decepción, y también por supuesto de política, ya que al fin y al cabo habla de cómo empieza a resquebrajarse el imperio austro-húngaro.

Me ha parecido muy interesante la forma en que Bánffy retrata la política de la época, con sus peleas infantiles entre gobierno y oposición, con sus vanidades y sus mezquindades, con sus reclamaciones frívolas para distraer la atención de los problemas graves, con su ninguneo por las minorías, etc. Y relacionado con éste último aspecto hay un detalle que me ha gustado mucho: la forma en que los transilvanos son ninguneados en Budapest, y como los húngaros de Budapest son ninguneados en la capital del Imperio.

Es la primera parte de una trilogía, que sin duda me voy a leer entera más temprano que tarde (si nada ni nadie me lo impide), porque a parte de tener unos personajes muy bien construidos y un estilo narrativo que fluye de manera ejemplar, también se trata de una obra tan válida hoy en día como lo fue en su momento de publicación; es lo que tienen los clásicos, y yo me atrevo a decir que ‘Los días contados’ de Miklós Bánffy es todo un clásico.

[Marius Citește · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dragoste și politica sunt temele acestui extraordinar roman maghiar, plasat în primul deceniu al secolului XX.
Romanul prezintă o gama larga de personaje, dar urmărește în principal vietile ale a doi tineri veri aristocrați din acea vreme. Primul, Balint Abady, este un deputat independent al Parlamentului maghiar, cu înclinații liberale, îndrăgostit de o femeie căsătorită si nefericita: Adrienne.
Celălalt, Laszlo Gyeroffy, este un muzician talentat, dependent de jocurile de noroc.

Primul volum are peste 600 de pagini, tiparite cu caractere mici, de aceea se citeste mai lent, dar cititorul este rasplatit pe deplin. Romanul abunda in descrieri minunate ale peisajelor și culturii transilvănene, pe alocuri autorul introducand si descrieri ale mașinațiunilor politicienilor maghiari dinaintea celui de-al doilea război mondial.

Traducatorul acestui roman din maghiară trebuie să fi depus un efort considerbil. Romanul se deschide cu o petrecere, care este în mod clar un pretext folosit de autor pentru a pune in scena fiecare personaj înainte de a dezvolta povestea.

Autorul, contele Miklos Banffy, a fost el însuși un aristocrat maghiar din Transilvania, o provincie cu o populație diversă din punct de vedere etnic, care a fost transferată în România după înfrângerea Ungariei în Primul Război Mondial.

Conflictul politic este doar una dintre cele trei direcții narative principale ale romanului; celelalte două insa sunt mult mai captivante. O directie este data de relația dintre Balint Abady și Adrienne Uzdy și suișurile și coborâșurile vărului lui Balint, Laszlo Gyeroffy.
Nu voi spune prea multe despre Laszlo pentru că nu este nimic ieșit din comun în povestea lui, insa este dominat de un complex de inferioritate si anume ca este orfan, ceea ce îl face pe Laszlo să aibă nevoie de multa afecțiune, cât și de acceptare, iar aceasta nevoie de afecțiune, îl face să-și strice șansele la fericire alături de Klara.

Abia astept sa citesc si celelalte doua romane ale trilogiei.

[ola · Rating 5 out of 5]

wspaniałe, wspaniałe, wspaniałe!

dlaczego nie pisze się już takich książek? :c

[Calzean · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quite a book. Hungary in 1905. The rich party hard, have affairs and preen themselves. Rank and position in society is everything. Meanwhile the politicians bicker and Hungary remains under the crown of the King of Austria. There is a lot of naivety, greed, insular and misogyny in the behaviour of the men. The inane Hungarian customs of nobility, duelling when "honour" has been offended, money-lending, drinking, carousing and gambling are all brought to life in a book full of stories.

There are a lot of characters. Count Balint Abady finds himself as a member of Parliament and seems to be the only character with a shred of common sense, except for his on-going frustrating longing for the beautiful but married Adrienne Miloth. Abady's cousin Count László Gyeroffy is a gambler, relies on his women paramours to pay off his debts. Adrienne's sister Judith is in love with another gambler aptly nicknamed The Nitwit. Much of the book revolves around these three relationships and is quite advanced in it's depiction of sex and sexual needs.

Then there are numerous cameos, such as Abady's mother with her insight into sex and women, greedy minor officials and the tensions between Hungarians, Romanians, Austrians and Croats.

I now need to read the next two books in this series.

[Berit · Rating 4 out of 5]

If anyone had asked me a while ago whether I'd be interested in reading a nearly 700-page Hungarian novel, I'd have said "no, thanks." Call it small-mindedness, but aside from the basics (Austrian-Hungarian empire, Gavrilo Princip, WWI, strange language that bears no resemblance to any other European language besides Finnish) I knew nothing about Hungary and wasn't particularly inclined to learn more.

But then, about a month ago, I was browsing a well-stocked local bookstore in search of something escapist. And if I want something truly escapist, that usually means something set in the 19th century. I was thinking maybe Shirley by Charlotte Bronte, which I still haven't read, or maybe something neo-Victorian. My eye fell on Roger Martin du Gard's Luitenant-Kolonel de Maumort and while I really, really, really want to read it, it's over a thousand pages and I just couldn't see myself carrying that around on my commute, so I shelved it for the summer.
Right next to it, though, was Bánffy's Geteld, Geteld (which appeared in English under the title They Were Counted).

I read the back cover and was sold the minute I read "nobility" and "set on the eve of World War I."
Not exactly the 19th-century, but this was even better: I love anything set in Edwardian times and/or related to World War I. I don't know what it is, but I'm semi-obsessed. It's my favorite time period to read about, other than the present.

Anyway, I bought it, started reading, and have been reading until I finished it today. And now I can't stop stalking L.J. Veen's website to see if and when they will be publishing part II, because this is only part I in Bánffy's Transylvanian Trilogy. I might even purchase the next part in English...I need to read more.

Needless to say, I loved almost everything about this novel. Bánffy writes beautifully, giving me passages like this when I'm not even a hundred pages into the novel:

"De maanverlichte nacht was van een onverwachte schoonheid, en Bálint werd erdoor geraakt alsof er plotseling een gil had weerklonken. Toen hij uit de gele damp van de balzaal naar buiten stapte, waande hij zich plotseling in een azuren wonderwereld waar feeen hun magische toververtoon als een groot decor voorbij lieten rollen - zonder afstand of nabijheid, diepten of hoogten, zonder maat en perspectief, alles in een dimensie afgebeeld - zowel schaduwen als verlichte delen. Het bladerdak van de linde was tot een eenheid versmolten en stond op een lijn met de glinsterende dakpannen van het torentje ernaast, en met de slanke berken bij de slotgracht, die in hun bewegingloosheid toch hun zaden in alle windrichtingen verstrooiden, tegen de achtergrond van de nachtelijke hemel waaronder zich ook de golvende velden op de hellingen van de heuvel aan de overkant aftekenden (dichterbij gebracht door een enkele diepe greppel), zodat dit alles bij elkaar een reusachtig schilderij vormde, of een kleurig geweven wandkleed, doorvlochten met verbijsterende zilveren, blauwe, grijze, en lila lichtdraden (...). Zo werd het vergezicht dat erachter lag nog meer een zinsbegoocheling, een droombeeld, als het verloren paradijs, of als een onbewust vermoeden van het nooit gekende" (75-76).

Wait, what? How beautiful is that? How can anyone WRITE like that? And I didn't even use the full quote here! I went back three times to re-read it, that's how much it dazzled me (note to self: see also the description of the waterfall on page 243).

This is not the kind of book you can read quickly, as the passage above illustrates. Yet, it's also not a slow book - there's plenty of dialogue and action, and real plot-lines (I can't stand novels that are mere stylistic exercises - this isn't one of them).

In addition to the language, I loved being immersed in this world that I knew absolutely nothing about. Who knew Transsylvania belonged to Hungary for centuries before it became Romanian? Yeah, not me. I also had to double-check Hungarian pronunciation guides to be able to (mentally) pronounce names like Marosszilvas and Mezőség. Most importantly, I felt like I was really part of these upper-class Hungarian circles at the turn of the century, and I LOVED that. I was somewhere else. I escaped.

Bálint's love for Adrienne is clear from the get-go: the moment her carriage speeds past his on page 1 (ok, not page 1, but the beginning) you know that this is going to be A Big Thing. But the way that Bánffy develops their relationship, the pull-and-push of it, is unpredictable and masterful. There were times were I resented Bálint for being so seemingly animalistic and possessive, but then that was compensated by the more numerous passages in which he was so kind and understanding. Just like Adrienne must have experienced it...

Since Bálint is in politics, there are some sections devoted to Hungarian parliamentary upheavals. They reminded me of some of Tolstoy's asides in War and Peace , in the sense that they felt unusually technical and detailed for a fictional novel. Not my favorite parts, but they became more interesting once I remembered that this novel is set in 1904-1906, approximately...right before World War I. Where did WWI start, formally? Right, in Austria-Hungary. In other words, all the little (and big) protests, difficulties, and meltdowns of the parliament at this time are actually storm clouds gathering before all hell breaks loose in 1914.

If I'm saying relatively little about the plot here, it's because I find it hard to capture. There's Bálint and Adrienne's mutual attraction at the heart of the novel, and then there's the subplot (still important) of László Gyerőffy and his struggle with status and the love for his cousin Klára. Yet, none of that really tells you what's going on. This book is so rich with characters and subplots that it's difficult to say "this is the story." You'll just have to read it for yourself.

I can say this, though: the back flap contains a quote from a review in the Daily Telegraph, which called this novel "Anna Karenina and War and Peace rolled into one." While I'm not sure I'd go quite that far, I'd say this book definitely rivals Anna Karenina, and deserves at least as much attention.

[Magdelanye · Rating 5 out of 5]

We could learn a great deal if we paid more attention to what really matters and did not allow ourselves always to be sucked into the whirlpool. p268

A storm in a teacup it may be, but a tempest to those who lived in a teacup. p577

In this first long volume of the Transylvanian Trilogy, Miklos Banffy inhabits the rarified atmosphere that prevailed in Hungary during the fin de siècle leading up to the dissolution of empires and the first world war. With deep insight and compassion for his complex characters, and an intimacy with the historical period reinforced by his own family ties, he brings alive the turbulent events in vivid, elegant prose.

As with mountain climbing, one reaches one peak only to discover that there is another, even higher, behind it. p335

[Steve]

A large portion of the Carpathian Mountains form the general outline of Transylvania, a region located in present day Romania. Prior to the First World War, Transylvania was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, part of a world that now lies far from our collective memories. Count Bánffy skillfully transports our imaginations back to that place around the year 1905 through the lives of two young primary characters: the Count Balint Abady, and a cousin, Count Laszlo Gyeroffy.

Both counts belong to families with impressive estates and long histories. Neither seems to know legitimate work, though Balint is an elected member of the Hungarian Parliament, which some may consider respectable employment. Balint spends significant time in Budapest in his official role when not in his hometown of Kolozsvar. In the capital political tension is rising as the Emperor Franz Joseph bumbles along in his rule of Hungarian lands under the dual monarchy. Balint’s greater interest is Adrienne Miloth, Addy, who is married to the secretly abusive Pal Uzdy. As the story progresses, desirous thoughts seep further and further into Balint’s soul; the intrusive, romantic attraction holds him mentally hostage, while Addy’s marriage holds her physically so.

Laszlo, however, is an inveterate gambler and lush. His romantic ambitions are intertwined with schemes to repay his recklessly incurred debts. It’s not clear he can connect emotionally with a woman because ulterior motive is afoot. He must maintain his social standing, and that means paying up when so required. He cannot overcome his addiction even when he is bailed out, such is the overwhelming, destructive strength of his habit. He finds shame his just reward.

Count Bánffy offers a rich portrayal of this era, along with descriptions of the physical environment. While the aristocracy live with their many amusements, the peasants are either engaging in petty corruption or being taken advantage of for the benefit of the empowered. So whether it’s the vulnerable, pregnant maid Ilus, unjustly fired, or the impoverished residents of Pejkoja who are overly indebted to the moneylender Ruz Pantyilimon, it’s obvious who is perpetually disadvantaged – except that on occasion a moneylender winds up murdered without suspects and a count meets with public disgrace. I look forward to reading the two remaining volumes in this trilogy.

[J.C. · Rating 5 out of 5]

It took me several months to read this trilogy, published in two volumes (I am putting the same review on the other volume), and I feel grateful to Miklós Bánffy’s daughter, Katalin Bánffy-Jelen, and to Patrick Thursfield, for translating it from the Hungarian. The trilogy is widely regarded as a masterpiece ranking alongside the works of the great Russian authors.
The novels are set in Hungary in the period before World War One (Transylvania at that time was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). The novels move through the privileged world of the Hungarian aristocracy, in the last years of the old order. This allows Bánffy to pay tribute to a world of which he himself was part and whose demise he witnessed. Despite this personal involvement, the descriptions of the Transylvanian aristocracy and the social elite of Budapest are not sentimental, but elucidate in accurate detail and witty observations the decay of this society; the decadence of those who inherited “noblesse oblige” but do not live by it, and the selfish preoccupations and short-sightedness that prevent them from realising and acting against the imminent collapse of their own privileged world and their country. Bánffy was a patriot whose career was in the arts and, like his protagonist Balint Abady, in the diplomatic service and in politics. He knows what he is writing about when he describes the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the descent into war. At school I had learned that the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand at Sarajevo by the Serbs led to war, but in this novel there is a lot of detail on the background to it, as well as on the intrigues and machinations of his supporters, particularly the head of the Foreign Office, Berchtold, and Conrad, Chief of the General Staff, who apparently falsified information so as to obtain the consent of the Emperor Franz Joseph to war. All this is from the Hungarian perspective, but illuminating and also very relevant to today’s politics. The descriptions of Hungary’s parliament and the behaviour of its members might come from the House of Commons, the only difference being that in Budapest, in order to drown out speakers with whom they disagreed, members not only hooted and jeered but also blew toy trumpets . . and toy trumpets might feature with us yet, as the American president enjoys blowing his own . . .
On a serious note, the rôle of Hungary within the Austro-Hungarian Empire seemed to me similar to that of Scotland today within the UK, including a narrowness of vision and an internal focus such as are demonstrated by Hungary, who was very much a second player in Vienna’s power games.
The human stories in this novel kept my attention. Even minor characters are portrayed in such lively detail that they emerge from the pages uplifted by love of country or radiant with love for another human being, or embittered, crushed by sorrow or imbecilic in drink. Balint and Adrienne’s love affair is drawn out through the three novels, and Bánffy is enough of a sophisticated novelist to bring this off; but it was Laszlo’s story that tore my heart, Laszlo who is not only a victim of the society that engendered him but also of his own character. Throughout the books, the descriptions of Transylvania were entrancing. I lingered over them, and wondered how they must read in the original.
After living in the company of Bánffy’s engrossing epic for several months I felt there was one book I had to re-read - Patrick Leigh Fermour’s trilogy, in which he walks to Constantinople, across the Great Plain of Hungary into Transylvania. The story goes on.

[Bill Kupersmith · Rating 5 out of 5]

The decline and fall of multi-ethnic empires looks increasingly relevant of contemporary American experience. I am not sure how I first found Miklós Bánffy’s Transylvanian novels, but I was utterly entranced by this portrait of the Hungarian aristocracy in the last days of the Habsburg Empire, a story written by the real thing, a genuine Hungarian count who shared in his country’s downfall. Like most readers of English, you probably wondered how Count Dracula’s castle ended up in Romania. After you have read this series you will know. Pre 1914 Hungary had much wider frontiers and only a minority of the population were ethnic Hungarians. In Transylvania the great landowners were Magyars, the peasants were Romanians. As Hungary had the bad luck to emerge from the First World War on the losing side, Romania got the lion’s share when the boundaries were redrawn in the Treaty of Trianon. (In 1944 Banffy tried to negotiate with the Romanians a separate peace with the Allies, they couldn’t agree on postwar borders and the Germans retaliated by sacking Bontida, the Bánffy family castle. Do a Google image search.)

They Were Counted (title alludes to the writing on the wall in Book of Daniel) takes place in the decade before the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand (and we find out why Hungarian nationalists hated him). This is only the first of a trilogy. I was chagrined that the story was left off unresolved, but delighted that I still have two more books to enjoy. We follow two Hungarian aristocrats, Count Balint “AB” Abady and his cousin Count Laszlo “Laci” Gyeroffy. Both are crossed in love. Abady is in love with Countess Adrienne “Addy” Uzdy, married to the sadistic Count Pal Uzdy. Gyeroffy is a composer, in love with Duchess Klara Kollonich, whose stepmother the matriarch Princess Agnes (Laszlo’s aunt) destines for marriage to Prince Montorio-Visconti. (Coming from provincial Transylvania, social-climbing Agnes has conquered Budapest society, but is still an outsider in Vienna, the Imperial capital.)

Retired at a fairly early age from the diplomatic service, Abady has devoted himself to caring for the family estate in Transylvania, with their beautiful castle, called Denestornya in the novel, and holding a seat in the national legislature in Budapest. Since 1867 Hungary was joined to Austria in what was called the Dual Monarchy. The Habsburg Emperor of Austria was also the King of Hungary, so what was Imperial (Kaiserlich) was Royal (Königlich) to the Hungarians. Balint exemplifies noblesse oblige. As he puts it to his cousin Laszlo: “The only thing that gives us any moral right to the fortunes that we inherit is a sense of duty. Our parentage binds us to it and it's an obligation that none of us can escape! … The Hungarian nobility has ruled their country, and served it, for centuries. They know their job, whether it's in service to the community, to the provincial administration, to the church, or in government. And they serve freely – in honoris causa! … Leadership is our responsibility and we should not lightly avoid it until such time as all our people develop some sense of social responsibility themselves, as our Saxons seem to have done.”

The irony is that the ethnic Hungarians were a minority in pre-war Hungary and only about ten percent of the population had the franchise. As an American, I sensed a kinship with the huge inferiority complex of the Hungarian nationalist politicians, super sensitive to slights to their national pride (like army commands in German) whilst jealously guarding their privilege to rule over others, lesser breeds like Slavs and Romanians. The worst thing the circle that surrounds Franz Ferdinand intend is universal suffrage.

There is a wonderful array of minor characters. A constant danger is drink and debt, fast women and bad cards. Fabulous sums are lost at the Casino Club in Budapest. Balint’s love Addy is repulsed by sex after her experience with her vile husband. At one point I was wondering if she should be referred to that remarkable nerve doctor in Vienna who had invented a treatment called Psychoanalysis, where patients lie on a couch and recount their dreams. (I am sure that the “Browning revolver” Balint obtained for her was really an automatic pistol, otherwise the firearms mentioned check out.) The Hungarian aristocracy are fanatical Anglophiles, buying their tweeds and their shotguns in London, and their children have English nannies.

I shall give myself a while before continuing the series, postponing the pleasure but knowing that the end must be tragic. Yet though sometimes beautiful, we also have no illusions that the privileged world Bánffy depicts was cruel, corrupt, and irretrievably doomed. But in this story we can enjoy the spectacle.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

I strongly recommend the Everyman's Library physical edition of this book, which was published in 2013. I am mostly a slave to my Kindle these days, so it was especially pleasurable to read this in physical book form, in spite of its stubborn resistance to my attempts to enlarge its font. (Since I am age 65, the ability to enlarge fonts at will is one of Kindle's main attractions.) I see on the internet that the cool kids already know all about the high-quality binding and creamy-feeling paper of Everyman's Library editions, but what I really liked was the narrow gold-colored permanent cloth bookmark attached to said high-quality binding. Just the very act of marking one's progress in this manner seemed a throwback to a more civilized age.

Forty years ago, my late wife and I were chosen (randomly, we had no appropriate experience) to live and work in Romania for a few years. I have found that it is never a waste of time to interest yourself in the culture and history of your immediate surroundings, so I read (at that time) some history and literature of Romania, much of it written, unsurprisingly, by Romanians. Today, Transylvania is part of Romania, so my knowledge of its history was filtered through the Romanian narrative. In it, Hungarians are pretty one-dimensional villains, so when a review of this book passed my ken during internet time-wasting, I thought that this would be a book that would interest my wife, if only for a more thorough exploration of how the other half lived. I bought it for her as a birthday present, and to my pleasure she not only enjoyed it, but was able to brandish it in front of fellow central-Europe-history nerds as something worth paying attention to.

Once she was done with it, I snapped it up and we had some pleasurable moments of discussion over the contents. For example, the third paragraph of the introduction (page ix) starts thus:

The Hungarians had always controlled Transylvania in the past, but they were by 1920 in a slight minority as a whole in comparison to the Romanians, many of whom, as the Hungarians pointed out, were recent immigrants there.

We remembered that, long ago, we were driven by our Romanian language teachers to thoughts of murder. Now, we had, in the form of this sentence, given the dignity of the printed word, a weapon which surely would have caused any of our Romanian language teachers to have a stroke. All of this is to say, some people would disagree with the sentence in the blockquote above.

Whatever the faults in the introduction, the text of the novel had some very recognizable moments of the Transylvania that we visited 40 years ago, such as this selection from page 196, in which Balint, the hero, is visiting a Romanian village Orthodox church during an errand of aristocratic do-gooding:

The prophet was shown ascending to heaven in a Transylvanian peasant's cart surrounded by vivid orange flamer and every detail of the vehicle, even down to the carved cart-pole and the master-pins that held the harness were lovingly and faithfully represented. Turning, Balint saw that the whole wall above the entrance, facing the iconostasis and the altar, was covered by a Last Judgment in which huge devils with fearsome faces were busy swallowing mouthfuls of sinners, ten or twenty at a time. Balint was cynically amused to note that the sinners were all Hungarians and clearly distinguished as such by their large moustaches, boots and clothes decorated with elaborate braiding. On the other hand, the saved, who were being transported by angels to the Land of the Just, were dressed in the traditional Romanian belted shirts that hung to their knees.

Yes, been there, seen that, except that, in the instances that I recall, there were also Jews, Armenians, Turks, and Uniate Catholics, all being ushered to the jaws of Satan.

More generally, the book is a very good look at the other side of the story. In many ways it is familiar to anyone who has read about any European living in a colony during the decline of colonialism, including but not limited to the English in Ireland or India, the Americans in the Philippines or Vietnam, or the French in West Africa. By the time the well-meaning reformers arrive, the resentments are too great and the grudges too profound for rural cooperatives and anti-usury laws to make any difference. The young reformers are sheltered and clueless. They are easily outfoxed by their malevolent elders, who are vastly more experienced in manipulating both the system and their fellow men.

I'm the sort of hairpin that always finds the love story to be the dullest part of historical novels, and this case is no exception. The mutual pining of the well-meaning reformer Balint for the married-to-a-cad Adrienne, and their elaborate maneuverings to find a time and a place to rendezvous, took up too much time, in my sight, but I understand that normal human beings often find this type of romantic claptrap drama compelling.

More interesting, in my sight, were the passages – drawn from the author's personal experience – of what it was like to be a member of the Hungarian parliament at the time. The posturing, the empty speechifying, the double-dealing, the hypocracy, the self-interest disguised as patriotism, the half-hearted measures of piecemeal – all this is discouragingly familiar.

Something I found interesting in this book was the occasional “off-stage” appearance by Archduke Franz Ferdinand. The first effect of the mention of his name is to remind the reader that, in less than 10 years from when the action of this novel takes place, Franz Ferdinand's assassination will turn Europe upside down and all the posturing etc that we are reading about will come to nothing. But then, when you burrow deeper into the novel, you see that everyone in Hungarians politics at the time was jockeying for position in anticipation of radical changes that FF was alleged to have favored, esp. yanking devolved powers away from Budapest and ruling the whole Austro-Hungarian empire directly from Vienna. It was hard for me to change my view of FF to one of a Machiavellian plotter and planner, as his grimly comic assassination has led history to portray him, rightly or wrongly, as something of a doofus.

The book is well translated, and I think that the comparisons, drawn from newspapers, to Tolstoy and others are justified. However, just as our attention-deficit age has rendered it difficult to get through the great works of centuries past, it may be difficult for the normal reader to plow through the detailed descriptions of aristocratic homes and gardens, and their surrounding forests.

I bought my late wife volumes two and three of this trilogy, which are bound into a single volume (also with beautiful paper, nice bookmark) by Everyman Library. Sadly, she got no more than a few pages into it before illness took her. I am trying to find time to read the rest of this trilogy now, but life just keeps pulling me elsewhere.

[Engi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Avete presente Guerra e Pace? Ecco, trasportate il tutto dalla Russia d’inizio ‘800 all’Ungheria/Transilvania d’inizio ‘900 e otterrete quello meraviglioso mattoncino di 864 pagine.

La decadente aristocrazia magiara si mostra completamente ignara del mondo che la circonda: tra balli, tresche, gioco d’azzardo e gare dei cavalli non c’è spazio per nient’altro. Questo aspetto così opulente e lussureggiante funge da contraltare alle vicende politiche di una nazione in fermento, che sgomita e si agita in cerca di una propria identità, senza sapere che ben presto tale realtà ottocentesca sarà spazzata via dal primo conflitto mondiale. Le parti più prettamente storiche sono veramente interessanti, e il glossario a fine del libro aiuta a fare un po’ di chiarezza su una parte della storia europea non troppo conosciuta.

I personaggi sono tantissimi, per tutti i gusti, dal grottesco al patetico, ma tutti perfettamente funzionali alla storia. Ho apprezzato molto le figure dei tre protagonisti, dilaniati e straziati dalle loro passioni ed errori, presenti e futuri.

Se cercate un romanzo storico che vi faccia compagnia a lungo e vi entri dentro, con un convincente affresco dell’epoca e personaggi a cui non ne va mai bene una, non cercate più, avete trovato il vostro uomo.

E ci sono pure due seguiti, grazie mille Conte Miklós Bánffy de Losoncz.

[Rosaria Battiloro · Rating 5 out of 5]

"In quel momento, dopo i lunghi tormenti per prendere una decisione, provò uno straordinario senso di pace, come se fosse morto da tempo"
Sontuoso, decadente, romantico nelle meravigliose descrizioni naturalistiche "Dio ha misurato il tuo regno" è una corsa sfrenata attraverso balli, duelli, amori e odi, verso la tragedia che attende l'impero Austro-Ungarico alla vigilia della prima guerra mondiale.

[Marina Sofia · Rating 5 out of 5]

It starts slow, but once you immerse yourself in that world (and the many names and characters), it is completely absorbing. Very much like War and Peace, it covers both the personal and the political/historical, ideas and sentiments. A towering achievement.

[Elwira Księgarka na regale · Rating 4 out of 5]

„Gonitwa o Nagrodę Króla stanowiła punkt kulminacyjny wiosennego sezonu wyścigowego. Wszyscy tam byli, wszyscy musieli tam być. Każda urodziwa kobieta, i to w najbogatszej sukni, każda czołowa osobistość z każdego grona towarzyskiego stolicy. (…) We wszystkich pojazdach damy w najładniejszych toaletach z kwiatami, schowane pod parasolkami w jaskrawych kolorach i wielkimi kapeluszami z piórami. Pomiędzy zaprzęgami konnymi ledwie tylko jeden, dwa auta smrodziły powietrze; wszyscy się na nie gniewali, nie znosiły ich nawet konie, chyba czuły, biedne, że maszyny przyniosą im zagładę.”


Dwiema wielkimi postaciami tej potężnej powieści są miłość i polityka. Tytuł pochodzi od przepowiedni babilońskiej - „Policzone”, następnie „Zważone” i „Podzielone”. Otrzymujemy ją dzięki staraniom tłumaczki Ireny Makarewicz i wydawnictwa Officyna, co roku ukażą się kolejne dwa tomy. To imponująca lektura, która zajmie Wam sporo wieczorów, ale nie pozostawi nienasyconymi. Fabuła krąży pomiędzy dwoma młodymi arystokratami. Laszlo zaleca się do Klary, mają tę samą macochę, księżną Agnes, która pragnęła, by Klara przyjęła oświadczyny szanowanego księcia, a nie niżej urodzonego, hulaszczego karciarza w osobie Laciego. Druga para bohaterów to Balint, polityk-idealista i Adrienne.

Powieść ukazuje losy bohaterów, którym miłość nie jest pisana, tylko jest im przypisana. Nie ma rozwodu, nie może być skandali, wychodzisz za mąż za kogoś, kogo ci wybrano i masz ślepo poddać się temu wyborowi i nie rozglądać się dookoła. Mimo wszystko bohaterowie powieści próbują swojego szczęścia gdzie indziej. Z różnymi skutkami, które targają ludźmi, prowadzą do tragicznych, a niekiedy irracjonalnych zachowań. Równie żywo jak losy relacji bohaterów rozpisana jest tutaj polityka. Nie zabraknie tutaj naiwności towarzyszącej idealistom, uzależnień od hazardu, które skazują jednego z bohaterów na ustawicznie degradujące porażki. Oraz polityki, która w swej zachłanności nigdy nie prowadzi do progresu państwa. W skutek czego Węgry ukazane są jako naród chylący się ku upadkowi kierowany przez nieudolnych arystokratów. Ufam, że autor wie o czym pisał, bo sam piastował urząd ministra spraw zagranicznych. Ukłon ogromny dla tłumaczki. Język powieści to osobny bohater, który zasługuje na zachwyt, pełen kwiecistej szczegółowości, która nie powinna odstraszać. Trylogia choć pisana w latach 1934-40 ukazuje lata z początku poprzedniego wieku przed Wielką Wojną, to nie traci na uniwersalności i spokojnie można ją przyrównywać do dzieł największych.

[Caroline · Rating 4 out of 5]

Life in early 1900s Hungary and Romania are dramatically portrayed through the lives of 2 cousins, Balint Abady and Laszlo Gyeroffy. While born to aristocracy, Balint is compassionate, somewhat naive and finds himself in a doomed relationship with a married woman. Laszlo is musically gifted and a tortured soul. Written with dazzling detail, it took me a while to get through all names and descriptions of characters in the first chapter. The dazzling balls, shooting parties, and elaborate dinners bring out the opulence of the period among the aristocracy. The drama of personal affairs among this tight group and their fantastical life is strongly contrasted by the growing unrest on the political stage, which gives us a taste of the change that is about to come. There's a growing middle class with little patience with and great dislike and distrust of the aristocracy.

The rich details make this a wonderful epic novel. It's quietly beautiful passages are written in a style that reminds me of Tolstoy and Pasternak, and I enjoyed letting this play out like a brilliantly colorful movie in my mind. This is the first in the Transylvanian Trilogy and I am looking forward to the others and moving on with this historical tale.

[Madhuri · Rating 3 out of 5]

I would have rated this a five star, merely for educating me on the Transylvanian history and offering a different perspective on the Hapsburg empire.
But the novel seems so utterly focused on foolhardy decisions, on wasted, self indulgent young men who rarely do anything of value, that it became tedious to go through. If Banffy was trying to criticise his country-men as being unclear, unfocused and uninspired people, he came out a success. But if he intended to do only that, it seems a highly biased work. And if it was just that, the Anna Karenina drama was misplaced.
To me, a great setting was wasted on description of mundane balls and social engagement. The motivation of Hungarians to demand more power is ignored to the extent that the entire set of politicians end up looking like jokers

[Cora · Rating 5 out of 5]

I want to save a full review for the final volume of the Transylvanian Trilogy (I started reading book two right away); but just to be clear, They Were Counted was just phenomenal. Reading it, I felt like I did when I saw Chekhov's Three Sisters for the first time--all of the ambition and craft of a consensus English-class masterpiece, but also bracingly personal and contemporary. I didn't feel like I was eating my vegetables, I felt like I was invited into a whole new world, as evocative and absurd and eerie and psychologically gripping as any other fictional world that I can think of.