Piliszentkerszt – Last Bastion of the Slovaks of Hungary

Deep in the Pilis Hills of northern Hungary stands the village of Piliszentkerszt (The Holy Cross of Pilis). Its natural setting attracts hikers who seek refuge in the dense oak and beech forests. The natural beauty and resources of Piliszentkerszt has also attracted many foreigners to the area, including some that are not only tourists. On multiple occasions over the past 800 years this small village became a haven to foreigners who immigrated to the area. Many of them found the climate and natural beauty to be extremely hospitable, thus they decided to stay. Even today, this sheltered environment is home to one of the few villages in Hungary with a non-Magyar ethnic majority. This goes against the grain of 20^th century European history. With the fall of empires, multi-ethnic states were turned into smaller, highly homogenous nations. Hungary was part of this movement. Only areas along borders or those hidden in relative isolation were able to buck this historical trend. Piliszentkerszt was one of these places.

Aerial view of the ruins of the Benedictine Abbey of Piliszenkerszt (Credit: Civertan)

By Invitation Only – The Creation of Piliszentkerszt
The foreigners that first permanently settled Piliszentkerszt came by way of invitation. The first immigrants to arrive were monks brought to Hungary by the French wife of King Bela III (1172 – 1196). A Benedictine Abbey was established for them in the year 1184. Soon a village sprang up around it.  The abbey and its immediate area may have seemed like a safe haven, but during the early Middle Ages, those who ruled the land shared one thing in common with the average person, the precariousness of life. Being a foreigner could make life even more perilous.

One of only two assassinations of queens in Hungarian history occurred near Piliszentkerszt. The German wife of King Andrew II (1205 – 1235), Gertrude of Merania, was despised by the indigenous nobility because of her overt favoritism toward fellow Germans. Among Gertrude’s many affronts to the native nobility, she gifted one-third of Hungarian land to her fellow Germans. The hatred this action engendered led the nobles to conspire against her. In the autumn of 1213 during a hunting trip in the Pilis, she was murdered by nobles. They then had her body torn to pieces. What remained was interred at the nearby abbey in a Gothic tomb. During the latter half of the 20^th century an excavation of Gertrude’s Gothic tomb took place. This provided confirmation of her fate.

Piliszentkerst’s isolation could not protect it from either immigration or by the 16^th century, invasion by foreigners into the Carpathian Basin. Just as foreigners had constructed the abbey and village, so too did another group of outsiders bring about its destruction. In 1526, the Ottoman Turks under the banner of Islam, destroyed both the abbey and village. The ruins left behind are still visible today and can be visited. Following the expulsion of the Turks, the settlement was a non-existent, lifeless ruin.

Bilingual signage greet visitors to the village today

A Slovak Haven – Reconstructing Piliszentkerszt
It was not until the middle of the 18^th century that yet another group of foreigners would arrive on the scene. In 1747, a group of Slovak migrants arrived to rebuild the village. The ruling Habsburgs who had thrown the Turks out of Hungary in the late 17^th century, brought in groups of migrants, namely ethnic Germans and Slovaks to help repopulate a Hungarian Kingdom that had been denuded of its people by a century and a half of warfare. The Slovak presence in Piliszentkerst would act as a magnet, attracting Slovaks from all over Hungary. The village was soon reconstructed, becoming a new home for another group of ethnic and linguistic outsiders.

Unlike those who came before them, the Slovaks had staying power. Despite over two and a half centuries of fraught relations between Hungarians and Slovaks, the population of Piliszentkerszt resisted the forces of Magyarization and cultural assimilation. Even the 20^th century draw of a newly born Czechoslovak nation to the north was not enough to uproot them. Perhaps it was the isolation of the community that allowed it to defy history. While the nation of Hungary became over ninety percent ethnically Hungarian, Piliszentkereszt remained the only settlement in Hungary where Slovaks made up the majority. Even today that is true, though they are a very slim majority at 54%. The Slovak name for the village, Mlynky can be seen on bilingual signs. Signage in the shops is also written in both the Slovak and Hungarian languages. Here stands an island of Slovak settlement thriving amid a sea of Hungarians.

Piliszentkerszt – Isolated from change but for how long

Out With the Old – The Challenge of Modernity
A new threat to the Slovaks of Piliszentkerst is now presenting itself. The ever progressing forces of modernity, with greater opportunities to travel and communicate with the larger world may end the village’s isolation. Slowly a younger generation of Slovaks in Piliszentkerszt has been losing the language skills and cultural ties that have so tightly bound the community together. A legacy of over eight centuries of foreign settlement is now threatened, not by the dominant ethnic culture, but instead by the transformative effects of technology and globalization. What will the future hold for Piliszentkerszt? Is it destined to become like the rest of Hungary, assimilated into homogeneity? If so, it will not be the first time that foreigners have been swept from the area. Foreigners may have a long history in this village, but challenges from the modern world may finally prove too much to overcome.

 

“It Is Nothing”: The Exhibit on the Archduke’s Assassination As Seen In Vienna

In the Landstraße District of Vienna, stands the world’s oldest military history museum, the Heeresgeschichtliches (Museum of Military Museum). The museum’s exhibits focus on Austrian military exploits throughout the centuries. Among the prominent events highlighted are the numerous martial successes of the Habsburgs, one of the great ruling families in European History. Austria and the Habsburgs have a symbiotic relationship, the success and splendor of the latter, influencing that of the former right up to the present day. Yet in the early 20^th ,the Habsburgs passed into history. Their fall came in both shocking and sudden fashion. In the space of just four years, the length of World War I, the empire completely disintegrated. First came defeat on the battlefield, followed by unrest and revolt at home. By the end of the war, the Habsburgs and their centuries old monarchy had vanished.

The Heeresgeschichtliches – Museum of Military History in Vienna is located in the city’s former arsenal

The Decline & Fall of the Austrian’s Empire – Revolution, Compromise & Ossification
In truth, decline had been taking place for nearly a century prior to the war. Growing tensions caused by the forces of socialism and nationalism during the 19^th century had to be constantly suppressed. Defeat in the Austro-Prussian War of 1866 was a harbinger of the growing power of a soon to be unified Germany. Fear grew, both rational and reasonable, that Austria would be swallowed up by the German Empire. To stave off oblivion the Austrians created an unwieldy alliance with the Hungarians. The upshot of this was a political entity known as the Dual Monarchy (Austro-Hungarian Empire). This helped to stabilize the situation for almost half a century, but at the same time proved to be a constant source of irritation.

The Hungarians demanded almost complete independence. In areas where the two entities were supposed to coordinate, such as Foreign Affairs, disagreements were rife. There were also justifiable concerns about the growth of nationalism among the millions of minorities spread throughout the empire. The Italians of the Tyrol looked to Italy, the Romanians of Transylvania to Romania, the Serbs to Russia and so on. The empire was riven with internal contradictions. Atop it all sat Emperor Franz Josef, a man who would rule for sixty-eight years of revolution, compromise and ossification. Telling the story of a prolonged period of upheaval and transformation via museum exhibits is difficult at best. Perhaps that is why the essence of the fall of the House of Habsburg, Austria-Hungary and the end of old Europe really comes down to one exhibit at the Heeresgeschichtliches. Known as the Sarajevo exhibit, it showcases the residue from the seminal event which changed Austria, the Habsburgs and Europe forever.

1911 Graf & Stift Double Phaeton automobile which the Archduke and his wife were travelling in when they were murdered in Sarajevo (Credit: Heeresgeschichtliches)

 

Assassination – Politics By Other Means
The largest and most noticeable item on display is an automobile. This was the car in which the Archduke Franz Ferdinand (heir to the Habsburg throne) traveled through Sarajevo with his wife Sophie on Sunday, June 28, 1914. Easily recognizable is the folded back, convertible cover of the 1911 Graf & Stift Double Phaeton automobile. It was at precisely ten minutes past ten o’clock in the morning that a bomb thrown by a would be assassin deflected off the convertible cover. It injured travelers in another vehicle that was part of the Archduke’s entourage. Despite this, the Archduke insisted that the visit continue. He was dutifully taken to the town hall for a reception. Reflecting on this is bound to make the viewer wonder if arrogance, a quality which Franz Ferdinand was known to have in abundance, ended up costing him his life.

Perhaps this not only reflects the arrogance of Franz Ferdinand, but the attitude of the aristocratic order of old Europe as well. The governing elites still had a sense of invulnerability, despite numerous successful assassinations that had occurred across Europe over the past twenty years. Assassination, like war, was politics by another means. The marginalized of the Empire felt that this was the only way real change could be effected. Franz Ferdinand, an elite in every way imaginable, was an extreme example of the will to never change or recognize the obvious, even when it appeared in deadly forms. After the reception, the Archduke and his wife were once again traveling back through Sarajevo, when due to a mix-up, the chauffeur took a wrong turn and ended up stalling the car on a side street. It was then that the assassin, a Bosnian Serb by the name of Gavrilo Princip, pulled out a semi-automatic pistol. From just one and a half meters away he fired two shots. The Archduke was hit in the jugular vein, while his wife was shot in the abdomen.

Fabriue Nationale model 1910 used by Gavrilo Princip to murder the Archduke and his wife (Credit: Heeresgeschichtliches)

The assassin’s pistol, a Fabrique Nationale model 1910, is on display at the museum. It is incredibly humbling to actually see the real weapon. The gun produced the first two shots of what would become a worldwide conflagration that ended up taking the lives of at least ten million people. The exhibit contains several photos of the assassins (including accomplices) along with their weapons. The contrast between the assassins and the royal family is brought home by the photos in close proximity to one another. Here is the scruffy Princip, eyes gazing back at the camera with a fearful, vacant perplexity. Nearby, an image of the royal family shows them as refined and well to do. There could hardly be a greater contrast. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie only met Princip in that one hair trigger moment, but due to that moment they have inextricably linked, forever.

The uniform worn by Archduke Franz Ferdinand when he was assassinated in Sarajevo (Credit: Heeresgeschichtliches)

All & Nothing – Franz Ferdinand’s Famous Last Words
Another display case holds the uniform worn by the archduke on that fateful day. A hole is visible just below the collar where the bullet’s entry occurred. The front of the uniform still displays Franz Ferdinand’s blood stains, which have turned a dirty brown over the years. In a final coup of macabre grace, a chaise lounge is part of the exhibit. It is from the governor’s residence in Sarajevo. On this lounge the Archduke lay, still alive, yet barely breathing. Ten minutes after Sophie died, Franz Ferdinand is said to have uttered, “Sophie, Sophie! Don’t die! Live for our children.” Then he repeated “It is nothing” over and over again.

Those were his final words. The exhibit has the power to transport the viewer beyond the museum, to somewhere deep in the historical consciousness. A place where Franz Ferdinand’s final words, “It is nothing” echo across space and time. Those words have turned into a horrific paradox. They turned out to be quite the opposite of what occurred in the aftermath of the assassination. “It is nothing” was really the beginning of a final endgame for the Habsburgs.

There is nothing quite like the Sarajevo exhibit at the Heeresgeschichtliches. Thousands of artifacts and wonderfully informative displays may tell of the story of the Habsburgs and Austria’s military exploits and defeats, but they pale in comparison to the items showcased from that one day in Sarajevo. The artifacts in the Sarajevo exhibit have the ability to transport the visitor beyond walls and words, beyond facts and dates. Indeed, they speak of a final destiny that defeated an empire and a way of life.

 

Formidable Yet Forgotten – Palanok Castle & Historic Hungary

Of all the lands lost by Hungary in the post-World War I Treaty of Trianon, those defined as the sub-Carpathians are the least discussed. Today the region is part of southwestern Ukraine. This is a land defined as much by nature as by its people. It is a beautifully rugged landscape covered by thick woods and volcanic hills tucked into hidden, secluded valleys. Following World War I the area was placed in the new nation of Czechoslovakia. This placement did not even last two decades. Prior to the outbreak of World War II it was given back to Hungary by the Germans who were in the process of dismembering Czechoslovakia. By the end of the war it was occupied, as was all of Hungary, by the Soviet Army. It then became part of the Soviet Union. Following the dissolution of the Soviet state, it became part of Ukraine. This remote land was passed from one political entity to the next with little forethought as to the wants or needs of its population. The majority population was Ruthenian, a Slavic people who have become assimilated in the Ukrainian state and are known as such today.

Until World War II there was also a sizable Jewish population which actually constituted a majority in many towns, including Munkacs (Mukacheve, Ukraine). As for Hungarians, they were mostly found during the early 20^th century as they are today in urban environments. The population of ethnic Hungarians in this region is approximately 150,000. Compared to the 1.2 million ethnic Hungarians in Romania or the 450,000 in Slovakia, those in Ukraine are unlikely to garner much notice. Nonetheless, just as in Romania and Slovakia, the Hungarian influence in this area is marked not just by the people, but also the region’s history. Their cultural heritage is still alive and dynamic. In Hungary, there is scant awareness of this land that was both lost to history and forgotten by memory. Nowhere does the Hungarian historical legacy in the sub-Carpathians come to prominence as dramatically as Palanok Castle in Munkacs (known as Mukachevo in Ukraine).

Palanok Castle – atop Lumkova Hill and Munkacs

Deep History – Munkacs: Centuries and Millenniums
Today Munkacs is a city of 93,000 people. It is less than an hour’s drive from the border of northeastern Hungary. Far and away the large majority of the populace is Ukrainian. They make up 77% of the inhabitants. Meanwhile, a bit less than ten percent are ethnic Hungarians. A century ago, the demographic makeup was quite different. Munkacs was much smaller, but in those days it was no less a city. It had a population of 18,000, three-quarters of which were Hungarians, many of them Jewish. The area had first come into possession by the Hungarians when the first Magyar tribes arrived in the Carpathian Basin at the end of the 9^th century. They entered the basin just sixty kilometers north of Munkacs, at the Verecke Pass. During the Middle Ages, Munkacs was made a Royal Free Town. This designation, along with its placement along the Latorica River, helped it become a hub for trade and merchantmen.

Yet it was many millenniums before, that Munkacs future prominence was decided. 68 meter (223 ft.) high Lamkova Hill was created by volcanic activity. This created a nearly impregnable outcropping, with clear lines of sight extending in every direction. Rulers of the area could not help, but notice. The first major constructions built atop this geological formation occurred under the direction of an early 14^th century Lithuanian prince, Fedir Koriatovych. Koriatovych was the first of many nobles who made what would become Palanok Castle their home. These included no less a personage than Janos Hunyadi, Regent of Hungary, famed for defeating the Ottoman Turks at the Battle of Nandorfehervar (Belgrade) in 1458.

Palanok Castle & Munkacs – drawing from 1686

Bastion of Defense – The Fight For Independence
The most interesting period in the castle’s history occurred when it became a center for military activity during the Hungarian fight to stay independent of Habsburg rule. Munkacs had formerly been attached to Transylvania in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which had helped guarantee it a degree of independence even as the Ottoman Turks reigned supreme over much of Hungary. When the Turks were finally ousted, the Habsburgs looked to extend their hegemony over all historic Hungarian lands. The notable freedom fighter, Ferenc Rakoczi II made the Palanok Castle his base in what became known as Rakoczi’s War of Independence (1703 – 1711). Like so much of Hungarian history Rakoczi and his forces resisted valiantly, but it was to no avail. The Habsburgs broke their resistance and Rakoczi fled into exile. In 1726, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI granted the castle along with several hundred villages in the area as an estate to the noble, Lothar Franz Von Schonborn who had helped put the emperor on the throne. The Schonborn family kept the castle up until the early 20^th century. During much of that time it served as a prison. On one notable occasion, in 1805 -1806 it also served as a safe house for the Holy Crown of Hungary. It was taken there in order to protect it from theft by Napoleon’s forces.

Palanok Castle from a distance

The Walls of Palanok – Presence of the Past
The castle’s towering position above Munkacs offered it a high degree of protection across the centuries. This helped preserve the works for posterity. Today it is a historical monument that is open to visitors. The castle is made up of three parts: the low, middle and high. The towering presence of the entire complex would give any potential conqueror second thoughts. In its prime, the fortress sported no less than 164 cannon which could unload a fuselage of shot. This would be all the more deadly due to the force of their weighty plunge from the towering heights. Military engineering and technology, along with its natural situation, made it one of the most formidable works in the whole of historic Hungary.

Formidable yet forgotten, this is the lot of the sub-Carpathian lands that were once an integral part of the Kingdom of Hungary. Wild landscapes with an infusion of Hungarian history dot the area, nowhere more so than Munkacs. The sub-Carpathians are one of Europe’s least visited regions. The fortress at Munkacs makes a fantastic starting point for a visit. It showcases the presence of a past that is not so far or so distant. This is a place where history was shaped and formed by Hungarians. Their successes and failures can still be discerned behind the towering walls of Palanok Castle.

A Scene Terrible to Contemplate – Nedjo Cabrinovic & The Unfinished Assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand

The 100^th anniversary of the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand will soon be remembered all across Europe. This was the event that sparked the outbreak of the First World War, changing the world forever. The name of the man who carried out the assassination, Gavrilo Princip, will come into the historical consciousness once again. Princip’s fame rests upon his actions on that fateful day. If not for the assassination, he would never have gained any sort of notoriety. He was a lost and troubled soul. Like so many assassins before and after him he clung to the very fringes of society. Militant nationalism was the preferred anecdote to give his life some kind of purpose. Princip and the assassination may be synonymous, but there were several other young men lining the route of the Archduke’s motorcade that early summer day in Sarajevo. Four of the assassins failed to carry through with the original plan. Another, Nedjo Cabrinovic tried and failed. If his action had been successful, Gavrilo Princip would be a mere footnote in history, while Cabrinovic’s name would be on everyone’s lips when the centenary of the assassination is commemorated.

Nedjo Cabrinovic – almost famous, but now only forgotten and infamous.

A Troubled Youth
Who was Nedjo Cabrinovic? Much like his co-conspirators he was a troubled young man. He began working as a teenager at various jobs all of which he invariably lost. These included stints as a locksmith, sheet metal worker and typesetter at a printing press. He stuck with the last of these, but never at the same place for very long. While working at the printing press he became familiar with radical socialist literature. He spent much of his formative years reading texts calling for revolutionary upheaval. His family life was chaotic. The relationship between Nedjo and his father was difficult in the extreme. They quarreled constantly. On one occasion, Nedjo’s father actually had him jailed for refusing to apologize to a housemaid he had slapped. Even at the printing press trouble proceeded to follow him. He took his readings of such revolutionaries as Marx to heart. He formed a union at the press, gave speeches and incited the worker’s to protest wages and conditions. Cabrinovic ended up losing the job and nearly being thrown into prison. He was also given to fits of anger, illness and non-conformist behavior.

Princip & Cabrinovic – Happenstance Versus Plans
Eventually he joined the Young Bosnians, a radical ethnic Serb group that wanted to see Bosnia throw off the yoke of Austro-Hungarian rule and unite with Serbia. Any possible means necessary would be used to carry this out. This background eventually led Cabrinovic to his place alongside the Appel Quay on the morning of June 28, 1914. Unlike Princip, Cabrinovic’s weapon of choice was a bomb instead of a gun. One thing they did have in common were the cyanide pills each carried with them to commit suicide after the assassination was done. Another similarity was that both turned out to be the only ones of the seven potential assassins in Sarajevo that day who actually tried to kill the archduke. There was a big difference between the two attempts though. Princip’s occurred by happenstance whereas Cabrinovic’s was done according to plan.

The Miljacka river and the Appel Quay to its left – this was the site of Cabrinovic’s assassination attempt on the archduke in 1914

Something To Remember Him By
On the morning of the assassination Cabrinovic did something very strange. Indicative of his mindset on that historic day, he went to a photographer and had several photos of himself made with a friend. Wearing an odd black and gray outfit, the last photos of Cabrinovic as a free man were taken. He asked the friend who had posed with him to make sure that among others, his sister and grandmother received copies. It was as though he was leaving them something to remember him by, as if assassinating the heir to the Habsburg throne was not enough. Not long thereafter, Cabrinovic found a suitable place to carry out his assassination attempt. He stood on the Miljacka River side of the Appel Quay close to a lamppost. This was critical because he needed to strike the bomb against the lamppost to prime it.

The Near Miss
At 10:10 a.m. the archduke’s car came into view for Cabrinovic. Unbeknownst to the passengers they had already safely passed two assassins, both of whom lost their nerve and failed to act. Cabrinovic had no such hesitation. He soon saw the motorcade coming into view and recognized the Archduke by the feathers in his helmet. He took out his bomb, struck it against the lamppost. It made a loud cracking noise. Cabrinovic’s motions in priming the bomb alerted the chauffer of the Archduke’s vehicle that something was amiss. The chauffer sped up, Cabrinovic tossed the bomb, but he was just off the mark. It hit the folded-down hood of the car, landing in the road where a few seconds later it exploded near the back of the next car in the motorcade. Shrapnel flew in several directions. Passengers in this car as well as bystanders had been hit, but none killed. Even the Archduchess Sophie had been grazed on the shoulder by a piece of shrapnel, the wound turned out to be superficial.

The archduke’s car came to a stop. He wanted to see exactly what had happened. After a minute, an officer hastily warned the heir to the throne and his entourage to keep going. The Archduke on learning of a bomb being thrown at him was reported to have said that the assassin “must be insane.” The archduke’s sanity can be called into question as well. He carried on with the morning program, rather than getting out of Sarajevo before another attempt on his life took place. It was a decision that would cost the royal couple their lives later that morning. As for Cabrinovic, he swallowed cyanide pills and jumped a wall, tumbling down into the languid, shallow waters of the Miljacka. In a matter of minutes a group of four men, one a policeman, had apprehended Cabrinovic. He was roughed up by an infuriated crowd before the police hauled him off to jail. It was all over for him, his attempt had failed. The archduke was still alive, but not for long.

Cabrinovic on the far left and Princip on the right (in the foreground) – escorted by Austro-Hungarian soldiers suring their trial for murder

Contrition & Oblivion
As for Cabrinovic he actually showed contrition at the trial where he and the other assassins were convicted several months later. When reflecting on the fact that the assassination had led to a full scale war, Cabrinovic said that if he had known what would have transpired from the murder of the archduke, he would have used the bomb on himself instead. The damage had been done though. A worldwide cataclysm was in progress and would not end for another four years, after which millions were dead. Cabrinovic would die in a Bohemian prison from the effects of tuberculosis just a year and a half that day in Sarajevo. He was all but forgotten.

What Might Have Been – A Scene Terrible to Contemplate
Today at the Austrian Military Museum in Vienn,a the car in which the Archduke and Archduchess were riding in Sarajevo is on display. It is a surreal experience to look at the 1911 Graft and Stift Double Phaeton, still in good condition and think that it was nearly blown to pieces that morning. The tunic worn by Franz Ferdinand when he was shot is on display as well. The bloodstains are still visible. It is a humbling experience no matter one’s opinion of what transpired that fateful day in Sarajevo.

There is another way to look at this exhibit though, one that is not surreal or humbling, but truly horrifying. A counter factual approach sets the assassination forward an hour. Cabrinovic’s bomb lands on target. The archduke and archduchess try to scramble away, but the bomb explodes. Bits of their bodies are blown in all directions. Shrapnel incises every limb that is left of them. The screams of bystanders are more animal than human. The car is a heap of metal, glass and fabric, the chauffer and other passengers lay moaning and twitching. That scene is terrible to contemplate, but it was certainly possible. If it had occurred there would almost certainly be a very different exhibit about the archduke’s assassination in the Austrian Military Museum. Perhaps it would showcase bits and pieces of the debris, fragmentary remains of that morning in the Balkans nearly one hundred years ago. There will never be such an exhibit, neither will anyone have Nedja Cabrinovic’s name on their lips at the 100^th anniversary ceremonies this June. Instead the man is lost to history, just like that moment in time, just like the world he so wanted to change.

The Past Is A Different Country – Deva, Transylvania (Narratives of Nationalism)

The past is a different country or so it has been said. The city of Deva, Romania located in western Transylvania, is where the past is very much a different country, dependent on whose perspective one views it from. If a visitor views the past by monuments and statues than for all intents and purposes Deva has been shaped by Romanians. If a visitor views the past through the prism of the city’s most notable architectural relics, than Deva’s past was molded by Hungarians. Which version is correct? The answer is easy if you are Romanian or Hungarian, their own. It is much more complex and confusing for everyone else.

Decebalus Statue with Deva Fortress in background – detail from postcard

The Winners Rewrite History
It is said that the winners write history, to be more precise they rewrite history. In Deva also sculpted history. The majority populace in the city today is Romanian. They present a grand historical narrative of valor and achievement through a series of dynamic statues of historical figures. Among those portrayed are the Roman Emperor Trajan who conquered Dacia (what is today much of the modern nation of Romania) and Decebalus, the leader of the defeated Dacians. In addition, busts of the three leaders of an 18^th century Transylvanian peasant revolt, Horea, Closca and Crisan are on offer. The final coup de grace is a statue of the famous Romanian nationalist poet Mihai Eminescu. What do all these personages have in common? They are the foundation upon which a Romanian national historical narrative has been constructed in Deva. Certainly they represent the majority point of view for Romanians. What they do not represent is those who ruled Transylvania for centuries – namely Hungarians.

What these figures also have in common was that they died less than ideal deaths, some more horrible than others. Quite paradoxical if one takes the time to think about the fact that in Deva they are portrayed heroically. The visitor to the city finds a parade of national icons, seemingly successful. Yet the truth is that in some form or fashion they all failed. Each figure is symbolic of the struggle Romanians had with the ruling elite for centuries on end. Horea, Closca and Crisan were all executed in the most horrible fashion possible, broken on the wheel. Decebalus committed suicide by slitting his own throat, rather than be dragged back to Rome and paraded through the streets as a war trophy. Eminescu suffered from bipolar disorder to the extent that he succumbed to mercury poisoning. The mercury used as an attempted antidote to treat his mental illness.

Horea, Closca and Crisan busts in Deva

History Written in Bricks, Mortar & Stone
For all the national hero worship in Deva, it is the Hungarians – who today make up only 10% of the city’s population – that have left the most memorable and lasting historical legacy. This is strange since on the surface, the Hungarian presence is marginalized to the point of being invisible to the historically unaware. The Hungarian historical narrative has also been sculpted, but this time in bricks, mortar and stone. The center of Deva’s small tourist trade is the Magna Curia Palace. It was redesigned in Renaissance style by none other than Gabor Bethlen, the man who presided over Transylvania’s golden age. Ethnically Hungarian, Bethlen exploited the Ottoman-Habsburg conflict to gain relative independence for Transylvania, promote a cultural renaissance and entrench Protestantism in the region. He even went so far as to make Deva the capital of Transylvania for a short time. Transylvania came closer to being a separate nation during his reign than it ever was before or has been since that time. For that matter, it would never achieve such a prominent place in European politics again.

Magna Curia Palace with Deva Fortress in the background

Towering Above It All – Hungarian Historical Touchstones
Standing in front of the palace one cannot help, but notice the ruins of the Deva fortress crowning the hill in the background. Perched high above, the fragments of jagged stone stimulate the imagination. What remains of the fortress is all that’s left of its once formidable walls. The crumbling remnants of these walls and ramparts can be seen from miles away. They draw not only the eyes, but also the heart upwards to the citadel which sits atop a volcanic mountain. The fortress – first mentioned by Hungarians in mid-13^th century documents – proved impregnable to the attacks of Cuman invaders. It continued to provide protection for the ruling Hungarians over succeeding centuries. It finally was blown up by the Habsburgs, in their bid to pacify the countryside and impose authority on their rebellious Hungarian subjects during the 17^th century.

Today the fortress stops not invaders, but tourists heading to points farther east. It continues to undergo a slow, but steady reconstruction. The Romanians also constructed the first funicular railway in the nation to transport visitors to the fortress ruins. Ironically, visitors are starting and ending their journey at Hungarian historical touchstones, the Magna Curia and Deva Fortress.

The ruins of Deva Fortress as it looks today

Same Differences – Romanians & Hungarians
Thus what we have in Deva is a situation where the basis of the city’s history was constructed by the Hungarians. The Romanians now inhabit this landscape of the past and have co-opted it as much out of economic interest as patriotic spirit. The Romanians were not allowed to be part of this history when it took place centuries ago. Today, the roles have been reversed. Hungarians have been left out of the cities past which they largely created and defined. The Hungarian presence is not so much invisible as it is unavoidable. The two, Romanian and Hungarian do not so much clash, as complement one another. Without one there could hardly be the other. These two peoples, historically at odds in Transylvania, are quite similar, especially in their differences.