My maternal grandparents were born in Austro-Hungary and they both lived through World War I, foundation of the Czechoslovakia, the Slovak Republic during World War II and the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic that saw me join this world. I then watched the Velvet Revolution (or “Gentle” as the translation from Slovak would have it) and the Czech and Slovak Federative Republic – a naming attempt to keep the nationalist forces at bay only for it all to collapse into the Slovak Republic and the Czech Republic with people staring at each other across the new border in disbelief and confusion. 

I loved history at school and I wanted to become an archaeologist when I was 11 or 12 but back then I was interested in Greece and the city of Troy, Heinrich Schliemann and his treasure. Maria Theresa, the Holy Roman Empress and her son Franz Joseph I, the, more or less, last emperor of Austro-Hungary were much less appealing. Later, I fell in love with Irish history and studied British and US history as part of my English Studies course at University. Thus, there was little space for the history of my ancestors’ empire.

Recently, I have felt a sudden interest in looking closer at the history that preceded me as a person in space and time and so I looked for books that could fill in the gap in a compelling way. I was recommended The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth, among a handful of other fiction and non-fiction books.

My edition begins with an introduction by Jeremy Paxman who fills it with a variety of bibliographical detail about the author making one want to look for more information about Roth, which is then duly provided by Michael Hofmann in the ‘Translator’s Introduction’. All of this made me intrigued indeed about what I was in for, in spite of me knowing not to confuse the author and their oeuvre. 

The story opens upon the Trotta family and the reason for their special position in connection to the Emperor Franz Joseph I. The book follows, roughly and unevenly, four generations of the Trottas each marking a sharp disconnect from his predecessor. We watch their evolution and their ascent of the social ladder as the Slovenian Trotta turns into an Austrian Trotta. You can observe the change in personalities, temperaments, ambitions and beliefs. The sympathies lie with the first two Trottas – the Slovenian farmer and his son, the inadvertent hero of Solferino.

Sadness and loss of purpose descend and fill out the space as each next generation disengages further from the familial heritage. I find it hard to empathise with the two last Trottas, although, I believe, that that may be the author’s intention as they are individuals caught in the whirlwind of the times, tossed and flung across the Empire in its death throes. They are, ultimately, a human representation of the Empire’s situation. Trotta, the father, assumes the role of the ideal Austrian citizen, fulfilling his duty with gusto, never asking questions and living and breathing allegiance to the Emperor and the dual-monarchy. He watches the decline in utter disbelief and confusion, losing his footing and sense of purpose. Whereas Trotta, the son, becomes the decline as he climbs the social ladder back down damaged by events that unfold directly around him. He almost seems to convince himself that he is cursed and thus refrains from actively attempting to save himself, to extricate himself from the web of history. We watch him sink slowly and resignedly with a calm and reconciled expression on his face fuelled by the ninety-proof liqueur.  

To be continued as I have 40 more pages to the end…

There is a short-lived moment of redemption, where the youngest Trotta comes full circle and becomes a farmer, a peasant like his grandfather – the hero of Solferino had been. That is when the war to end all wars catches up with him and the Empire claims him with its dying breath. The epilogue sees the end of the Empire through the death of Franz Joseph followed by the inevitable death of his most exemplary servant District Commissioner Trotta - the father.

 ‘I would have liked to say in my address,’ said the burgomaster, ‘that Herr von Trotta couldn’t have outlived the Emperor.’