In his column in the Daily Telegraph, former editor Charles Moore praises Miklos Banffy as ‘the Tolstoy of Transylvania’. Ardent Banffyites like yours truly are always pleased when the Hungarian novelist gets attention in the English-speaking world, which happens all too rarely. I can’t remember how on earth I stumbled upon the works of Banffy, probably through reading the Hungarian Quarterly, a publication that — covering art, literature, history, politics, science, and more — is admirably polymathic in our age where the specialist niche is worshipped.

Simply put, Miklos Banffy is a must-read. If you love Paddy Leigh Fermor’s telling of his youthful walk from the Hook of Holland to Constantinople (the third and final installation of which we still await), then Miklos Banffy will be right up your alley. Start with his Transylvanian trilogy — They Were Counted, They Were Found Wanting, and They Were Divided.

The story follows two cousins, the earnest Balint Abady and the dissolute László Gyeroffy, Hungarian aristocrats in Transylvania, and the varying paths they take in the final years of European civilization. “They are full of love for the way of life destroyed by the First World War,” Charles Moore points out, “but without illusion about its deficiencies.” Three volumes of nearly one-and-a-half thousand pages put together, they make for deeply, deeply rewarding reading, transporting you to the world that ended with the crack of an assassin’s bullet in Sarajevo, 1914.

After finishing his trilogy, Banffy’s autobiographical The Phoenix Land is worthwhile; some of the real events depicted shadow those in the fictional novels. As previously mentioned, it contains a description of the last Hapsburg coronation (that of Blessed Charles) and numerous amusing tales. After that, I’m afraid you will have to learn Hungarian, as I have neglected to do, as no more of this author’s oeuvre has yet been translated into English.

Blessed Emperor Charles was crowned as Apostolic King of Hungary on the 30th of December in 1916. It was the last Hapsburg coronation to this day. For those interested there are two accounts which do justice to the sacred rites. One is by that most devoted admirer of the Hapsburgs, Gordon Brook-Shepherd, in his excellent biography of Charles, The Last Hapsburg. (Brook-Shepherd also wrote excellent and quite readable biographies of the Empress Zita, of Crown Prince Otto, of Chancellor Dollfuß, and Baron Sir Rudolf von Slatin Pasha).

It is fortuitous that the man who organized much of the coronation was the director of the Royal Hungarian Theaters (including the Budapest Opera House, where he is honoured to this day): none other than Count Miklós Bánffy, one of the greatest novelists ever who ever put pen to paper. His memoirs were translated into English in a single volume, The Phoenix Land, and open with two chapters portraying the coronation. The first deals with the organization of the rites in the middle of wartime Budapest, while the second chapter relays the events of the day itself.

It would not do for either of these accounts to be merely excerpted here, as both should be appreciated in their fullness. Perhaps the reader should seek Brook-Shepherd’s biography first, as Count Bánffy’s memoirs really should not be read until one completes all 1,440 pages of the nobleman’s brilliant Transylvanian Trilogy (They Were Counted, They Were Found Wanting, and They Were Divided); a richly rewarding read.

Very well, I will give you just the briefest excerpt from Bánffy’s memoirs:

The “little crown prince” is none other than Archduke Otto, still alive to this day (aged 95) and uncrowned emperor in the hearts and minds of many throughout Christendom. The Crown Prince was for many years a Member of the European Parliament and is currently a citizen of Germany (where he lives), Austria, Hungary, and Croatia. Otto was offered the Presidency of Hungary in the euphoria following the fall of Communism, but, to the consternation of many of his Hungarian would-be subjects, the Archduke turned the offer down. History is chock full of “what ifs”.

It was only later that I heard what had happened early that morning. When my old valet called me he announced three things: my bath had been prepared, revolution had broken out, and Count Mihály Károlyi was now Minister-President. »