I think of Édi, Hédi, and Médi only as a starting point, the three charming Biedermeier girls from Vienna who filled the three hours with grace, delicacy, and smiles in that biographical operetta, which was premiered in the imperial city on January 15, 1916. It was much needed at that time, in the midst of the First World War, when the thunder of cannons shattered the everyday lives and fates of people across borders and fulfilled the fate of the continent. Henrik Berté, the Hungarian-born Austrian conductor, dreamed the life of Franz Schubert onto the stage, making the last great musician of the Viennese Classicism the protagonist of the musical play “Three Little Girls.” Berté skillfully crafted arias, duets, and interludes from the works of the immortal composer. The biggest hit of the play is well known to us Hungarians: “Árva a ház, nincs kacagás” – this duet was sung by our legendary artists from Lili Berky, Gyula Gózon, Tivadar Bilicsi, Márta Fónay, Irén Szécsődy to György Melis.
Visiting Vienna, one can still seek out the supposed house of Papa Tschöll with the three girls in the vicinity of the Freyung. In front of the building, which shines like marzipan, one can ponder what has remained for us, the descendants, from the old cheerfulness, harmony, and order. Though not little girls, important European ladies have certainly remained, at least none of them have denied their gender identity so far. For example, Vera Jourova. The commissioner stares into the camera with a sad look and, according to a recent report, focuses once again on the state of European rule of law. This time with particular attention to Italy, but not excluding us from the scrutiny. One might think that the outgoing Brussels official is planning her future. After exhausting, responsible, and devoted years, she hopes for refreshing new winds that may sweep away the embarrassing past that burdened her important committee position, as she was accused of a corruption case in her home country in 2006 and spent more than a month in pre-trial detention. Nothing surprising, Jourova fits right in, as today I came across a piece of news, true or not, that states that out of the 720 EU representatives, 257 have faced some criminal proceedings somewhere, sometime. Euronews confirms that an Albanian representative of the Greek minority, Alfred Beleris, goes to Brussels to vote directly from prison. The Italian Ilaria Salis is already well known to us, we know for sure that the diligent Antifa fighter in Hungary has advanced from prison to become a representative in the European Parliament.
We may soon forget Vera Jourova, but Euro-Uschi will stay with us for another five years. The president of the European Commission was just re-elected, but she doesn’t rest at all, even though it is summer. Instead, she continues the destruction with overwhelming momentum. Relieved that she managed to grab the helm again thanks to dubious pacts and can forget the Pfizer affair, she hastily announced on July 26 that the European Union is sending enormous sums from frozen assets of the Russian Federation to Ukraine. I quote: “The EU stands with Ukraine. Today, we are transferring 1.5 billion euros from the revenues of frozen Russian assets for the protection and reconstruction of Ukraine.” A quick start, a milestone, a Brussels innovation: from now on, it is legal to steal, and private property is no longer sacred. By the way, despite the president’s announcement, the allocation is not for reconstruction but military aid, with 90% intended for weapon purchases. Shortly after the announcement, Switzerland refused to transfer the revenues from frozen Russian assets held in its banks. Ursula von der Leyen is not bothered by this, she is a controlled, blackmailed person. Many of us have noticed that she consistently delivers her speeches in English, as if she had forgotten her native language and whom she represents. Really, whom does she represent? This is prime slave labor, her tormented look shows the accumulated burden of the last five years and thoroughly underscores her compatriot, the poetic genius Wolfgang Goethe’s statement: “It is a great satisfaction from fate that the soul becomes a face.” So is hers.
My third “little girl” is a Finnish minister. Until now, we didn’t even know she existed; she looks as if she stepped out of a dusty cabinet, visibly dazed by the fresh air of real life. Elina Valtonen, although it has nothing to do with her, judged us when she recently stated: “Due to the difference in values, Hungarians should consider whether they have a place in the European Union.” It is certain that the foreign minister is a living example that a separate political class has been created in Brussels that is accountable to no one, has no democratic conviction, and therefore can say anything to the world. Until now, I always felt unquenchable anger hearing such statements, but now Tusványos has calmed me down. I have understood what drives this behavior. The West has freed itself from family, nation, and God. It seeks greatness but has no desire for great ideas, common inspiring goals, and certainly no need to humbly serve any of them. So it remains in perpetual self-justification: I am smarter, more beautiful, and more talented than anyone! The power turned inward brings only emptiness instead of greatness, and with it, arrogance. The feeling of being unnecessary breeds aggressiveness, and here is the result: “the aggressive dwarf as a new type of human being.” All this was explained by the Prime Minister, and it gives me a strong foothold. I do not claim that the new and newer attempts at humiliation, the kneeling on corn, will make me indifferent, but time does not work for the dwarfs. Let them scold in their sense of superiority, let the smart politicians sing, in a tone entirely different from the operetta: “The house is orphaned, no laughter, the old rooms are orphaned, like a bird, youth flies far away.” The once flourishing, useful, beautiful alliance has indeed aged. The EU has aged and is enthusiastically soaping the slope on which it slides into the pit of destruction, while still humming a little. Slowly but surely, today’s enthusiastic beneficiaries will also experience that reality is knocking on the doors and driving the arrogant cheerfulness out of the Brussels offices for good. But by the time the ladies and gentlemen realize this, it will be too late. Not even Papa Tschöll, Franz Schubert himself, or their patrons can help the aggressive dwarfs. What can I say, perhaps this is justice.
Translated and edited by Gyöngyi Kiss
