A fiatal bárónő esete Ceașescuval és a három szál szegfűvel

The focus of our current newsletter is Baroness Éva Bánffy, born in 1943 in Cluj-Napoca as the second child of Baron László Bánffy (1896–1974) and Heléna Zeyk (1909–1990). Her father lived as a landowner in Gârbou (Marosgezse) and was the last owner of the local Bánffy Castle before its nationalization. Today, the building functions as a psychiatric institution.

The Bánffy Castle in Marosgezse in the late 1920s

Her parents: Baron László Bánffy and Heléna Zeyk

Éva was only six years old when the family was evicted from their villa on Méhes Street in Cluj. They were forced to live in a tiny, miserable woodshed at the intersection of Monostori Road and Mikó Street. To cope with the unplastered walls, the family resorted to desperate creativity: László Bánffy glued newspaper sheets to the walls and ceiling. They tried to soften their hardships with humor—when kittens born in the attic tore through the papered ceiling and fell onto their beds, they counted each “landing” and laughed at the absurdity of their situation.

Éva Bánffy, mother Heléna Zeyk

Éva’s great passion was swimming. Her exceptional talent and athletic abilities could have secured her an international career—had she not been born a baroness. In the volume Álló- és mozgóképek, she recalls:

“In 1958, I held the national record in the 100- and 200-meter backstroke. I was ranked fourth in the world. In April 1958, Pista Bánffy was taken away because of the events of ’56, and that same year I set my record. Despite this, the state coach of the swimming section, Mladin, dismissed me because of my background and I was never rehabilitated, even though my record stood for eight years until Cristina Balaban broke it. There I stood in Bucharest after the youth championships—no hotel, no money, dismissed. It was swimmer and water-polo player Sanyi Szabó who helped me manage. You know, they only expelled someone from swimming if they had done something outrageous, like stealing. So my dismissal called my moral character into question. People asked: ‘What could Éva Bánffy have done to be expelled with such results?’ At an international competition that I won, they put on the podium a girl who hadn’t even taken part.”

Despite the humiliations, Éva did not abandon her ambitions. She wanted to become a kindergarten teacher, but the authorities refused even to speak with her—saying that “a baroness cannot become an educator.”

Her contemporaries remembered her as a beautiful, athletic young woman whose purity of spirit and charm attracted many admirers. Yet she often rejected them, fearing that if they discovered the family’s living conditions, she would be ashamed.

Nevertheless, with courage and resourcefulness, she found a unique—and daring—solution to her family’s housing problem, something unimaginable for most aristocratic girls.

One day—likely in 1968—Nicolae Ceaușescu visited Cluj to showcase his popularity. His motorcade descended along the Turda Road toward the city center while thousands of factory workers were ordered out to cheer. Among the crowd stood Éva Bánffy, holding three white carnations and a sealed letter.

Despite strict security measures and police cordons, Éva, determined and athletic, managed to fight her way through the masses. Jumping over policemen and barriers, she reached the presidential car and handed her letter, along with the flowers, through the window. In the letter, she asked the dictator for a better place to live.

Her boldness was rewarded. A few days later, the Bánffy family received official notice: the state had assigned them a spacious, comfortable apartment with running water and gas on Rákóczi Street.

Life for the Bánffy family improved somewhat after this. Although the wounds of the past and the injustices they had suffered could not be erased, the new home provided them with far more stable living conditions.

A family gathering in the mid-1980s. From left to right: Countess Borbála Mikes, Baroness Eszter Bánffy, Heléna Zeyk, Baroness Éva Bánffy

After the fall of communism, Éva once again proved her determination. With the same resolve with which she had reached Ceaușescu’s car, she and her brother began the fight to reclaim the family estates that had been unjustly confiscated. She persevered with unwavering faith, facing the challenges posed by bureaucracy and the new political system.

After a long illness borne with patience, she passed away in 2009.

We extend our gratitude to Countess Borbála Mikes for sharing this story in such detail and for providing the photographs.

If you know a similar story connected to Transylvanian noble families, we would be glad to receive it at office@etkk.com.