Maria „Pussy“ Mautner Markhof

Brioni – memories of Maria Mautner Markhof

Maria Anna Kuppelwieser, married to Mautner Markhof, spent a large part of her childhood and youth on Brioni, with her grandfather Paul Kupelwieser, who had also given her the lifelong nickname “Pussy Cat”. She wrote down her memories of this in Schruns in 1972.

Childhood and Youth

Above all, I have to thank God that He gave me such a rich life – filled with so many beautiful events – a beautiful youth and childhood on a paradise island.

I was born in Hinterbrühl in a small summer house on August 18, the emperor`s birthday, which I was very proud of as a child, because I thought that the festivals for the emperor were also a bit for me. Today I still remember the lovely, slightly smiling face of my dear grandfather when I told him on the morning of August 18 that my birthday would probably have been postponed this year, since the emperor would also have postponed his because of bad weather. Actually I had another reason: my mother was away and would only come back the following day.

My first conscious memories of Brioni were waking up in the morning in my grandparents’ house, where we initially lived until the old castle was habitable. The sun was shining into the room, the bees were humming, the birds were chirping, and the strong southern light filled the whole room. Looking out of the window, one could see a lush vegetable and flower garden with a wonderful feeling of calm and peaceful beauty. Of course, I could not yet realize that – it was just all so wonderful and an infinite well-being flowed through you.

I’ve kept this love for this island all my life and it is still in me today.

My grandfather had created a paradise from a low, from a wild scrub, and malaria-contaminated island. The island was systematically cleared and reafforested with a forest expert, Zufar. A personal friend, Prof. Robert Koch, was called in to fight malaria. All ponds were drained, the people on the island were examined for malaria and treated with quinine (at that time, nothing else was known), and above all, water was sought, because until then they had only known water from the wells and that always had to be boiled in order to use it as drinkable. There was no spring or fountain on Brioni Grande (the largest in the archipelago). The water from the wells was not enough and so a ship (the Brioni 2) always had to bring it from the mainland. Then my grandfather decided to buy the water rights of a spring on the opposite mainland and to lay a water pipe from there across the Fažana canal on the seabed. He also built a machine house to generate electricity himself, but this was much later.

The water pipe worked – and then there was enough water on the island and you could start planting. The island turned into a beautiful park, vineyards and fields were created, cows were bred, malaria was overcome. However, we had to go to our doctor who lived in a boat house in the harbour, every week for a check-up, and the stairs up were always accompanied by a slight fear of the annoying little cut in the fingertip, from which a drop of blood then dripped onto a glass plate and was put under a microscope. Thank God we were escaped that disease, but my father and grandfather were very badly affected. My grandfather in particular got the “Tertiana” (the worst form) and almost died of it. – We children only were taken to the island when the disease was already under control.

Thanks to the wonderful climate, the plantings thrived very lush and quickly, and on the cleared and grassy meadows and forest edges, beds of violets and thyme were in bloom. The laurel was in bloom and smelled, and when the magnificent yellow broom covered the rocky hills on the south side in May, you could smell the island before you even saw it, when you arrived by boat from Venice. – Later, in July, the myrrh was in bloom like big white wedding bouquets. Something was in bloom and smelled in every season to the great joy of all of us.

How many times had I been out on the plantations with my grandfather as a child! At that time he had prisoners from Capo d’Istria, mostly local farmers from the interior of Istria, where the customs were still wild and, above all, the so-called feud still existed. Most of those convicts had committed a crime but were actually very hard working and orderly people. We were also very good friends with them as children and many stayed with us on Brioni after they had served their prison sentence. I could still see my grandfather, who had the habit of always taking someone by the arm while explaining something. Later he also did it with the King of Saxony when he explained the Roman excavations on the island to him, which was however very resented by the fawning courtiers.

As the provincial curator of Istria, Professor Anton Gnirs was very interested in the island, he led the excavations – discovered, and made rich findings. In the bay of Val Catena, a large Roman settlement came to light with villas, docks, wells and a Roman steam bath; the latter was particularly interesting because the whole area was very well preserved. Under the bathroom was a walled up corridor, at the end of which a skeleton was found, next to an amphora and a small oil lamp. I was just there as a child when Prof. Gnirs found that passage and crawled in and made the creepy finding. He assumed that it was perhaps a Roman king who, according to tradition, had disappeared without a trace on his way from Apaltao to Ancona and had probably been killed by his opponent or had been eliminated in that way.

On the west side of the island there were the well preserved ruins of an old basilica and saltworks, which in autumn, at low tide, always had a wonderful red colour.

We ourselves lived on the harbour side in the old castle, whose tower was over a thousand years old and had eight windows in the top room. The walls were 1 m wide and made of stone, only in the extension, which was a bit younger (1290), the walls were also thick, but already mixed with mortar and partly also hollow on the inside – hollowed out by the rats, which were practically our fellow occupants, which was not always very comfortable. Especially in the attics it could happen that rats ran across the bed at night or tried to gnaw on the big toe. – It was better in the lower rooms where the dogs kept them in check. The fight against those extremely clever but troublesome animals was at least as difficult as that against the mosquitoes, since a rat was never caught in a trap twice. You always had to invent new methods to master them. My mother had a Scotch terrier named “Brossey” who was a very successful rat-catcher, so they no longer dared to enter the house. Only when it was very quiet in the evening and suddenly a bell rang, a real witches´ dance started so that you knew they were still there, in the walls.

Well, that’s was how our childhood went by, on sunny days in beautiful nature, surrounded by many animals and dear people. I did not go to school, but studied at home with our teacher from the elementary school, which my grandfather had implemented for the employees´ children. Anyway, we had become a small autonomous realm on Brioni. We had our own lighting system, workshops, bakery, laundry and also a small hotel with 10 rooms, which had to be enlarged very soon, because not only family friends but many others wanted to come. – So Brioni grew up slowly, from a beautiful, quiet country house to a flourishing health resort in winter, that was initially frequented more than the Riviera of the old monarchy, with the nearby Austrian naval port Pula, which was also an attraction for many people – especially mothers with their daughters. Even the Austrian aristocracy came very often and with pleasure. – Archduchess Maria Josefa (the mother of the later emperor Karl) came every spring for a month or two, lived in a suite in the hotel Neptun I, had a large collie with her and sometimes also her sons (Archduke Karl Franz Joseph and Archduke Max). She was a very sweet and humble woman, hated it when the Pula naval commander paid her an official visit and preferred to be out on the island to paint somewhere. – Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his family also visited Brioni. He immediately wanted the island at their own personal disposal and started and kept tormenting my poor grandfather with it. Envoys always came up with new proposals and very pitiful offers, but under no circumstances did my grandfather want to give up his island, not even at a high price. When all those efforts were without success, some other methods were used: For every single, even smallest building – and even if it was only a small shed – the permission from the naval office in Pula had to be obtained and that was always associated with great difficulties. Since the island was in front of the naval port, those measures served as a good excuse.

Fr. F., as we called him short, once again visited Brioni to welcome his very good friend, Kaiser Wilhelm II, with a huge fleet escort. At the big reception on Brioni, he punished my grandfather by not introducing him to the emperor, but only Carl Hagenbeck, who had just installed a zoo on Brioni. – That was the last time we saw him on Brioni, and it was a great relief for us when he stopped coming. Only for us when we were children we had a lot of fun by playing games on the beach with his children.

Time passed, we grew up slowly, and it was in June 1914 when I was allowed to go to Venice with my mother. A very exciting moment, because Venice was really like a fairytale and it still is today. We were on our feet all day watching works of art, we visited churches and museums, as my mother was very appreciative of art and taught me to have great respect for art from my early childhood on.

In the evening we were having our evening meal in a small restaurant when people next to our table were studying a newspaper with excitement. We asked what was going on and found out about the terrible assassination in Sarajevo. We immediately packed our bags in Venice and took the first ship back to Brioni. Two days later, the great funeral procession passed the Fažana Canal. On the first large warship “Viribus Unitis” there was the coffin of the Archduke, on the second ship there was the coffin of the Duchess of Hohenberg. The ships were moving very slowly, half speed ahead, the flags at half-mast, and the rest of the fleet, one ship after the other was slowly passing us as well. It was very sad and one could feel that it had been a terrible incident and subconsciously one could have a bad feeling about what might arise. Most certainly, we, the children, had great sympathy for those children who, all of a sudden, were on their own in that world, without their parents.

In July, we went to Carinthia like every year. My grandparents owned a property at the Wörthersee where we always spent the very hot months during the summer. Our trip there was mostly very strange. My mother either went ahead or arrived there a day later because all that was always a bit of a nuisance to her. Therefore we went with my dearest grandmother Kupelwieser and good old Missi (a dear old English woman who had looked after us from birth until I married) and our entire menagerie: dog, cat, tortoise, tree frog, and above all the tame canary. Much to our disappointment we had to leave donkey and sheep behind.

We started at 8:00 am with the “Istria”, the slowest transport ship, from the island and went along the entire coast to Triest, where we arrived at 7:00 pm. When the weather was fine, we had great fun to arrive at every port, to watch the hurly-burly of the crowds, celebrating their highlight of the day. The daily post also arrived that way. But it was dreadful when the Scirocco blew and the heavy sea turned grey! I had sacrificed all my life to St. Ulrich, even when the sea was fairly calm. But so many hours travelling across the sea were pure horror to me and I had always remembered it awfully. When you finally stood on firm ground, the drama was far from being over because the ground still rocked beneath my feet. The complexion still went green and only slowly I could put some life into myself.

Much later when I, already as an adult, once came from Milan in November to go on a ship in Venice, which had not left the port yet, I had to leave the cabin in a flash to get some fresh air. Some rolled up ropes served as my bed. The wind was blowing, it was raining, and I had left my coat in the cabin. So I was lying there as a poor heap of bad luck and only wished for a mine to end my misery. The mine did not come, but thank God the wonderful seasickness drug “Mothersill” was invented, and from then on I was seaworthy just as it should be for a child who grew up at the seaside.

In Triest we spent the night at a hotel that was not too brilliant. I slept between Missi and Grandma, and on the next day the journey continued by train through the “Karawankentunnel”, which always caused a thrilling feeling inside me, because it was getting pitch dark in the coupé. But once you got out of the tunnel, you could see the lake with the small island in front of you. In the late afternoon we finally arrived at Pörtschach, where my mother usually was awaiting us.

In later times, when the menagerie was limited to dogs and cats, we went by car across the “Loiblpass”. I had to sit next to the chauffeur (our good old Giovanni, a farmer from Istria – an illiterate but a very good driver and reliable man) and in the bends of the “Loiblpass” I always had to operate a pump because the gradient was too high so that the pressure was not sufficient. I should be sorry if I ever dared to forget – immediately I was kicked hard by Giovanni. His yellow shoes and gaiters would always be an unforgettable memory to me. We always made those trips only with Missi and Giovanni, since with our large amount of luggage there would have been no place for other people.

By the way, my parents were great car drivers at an early age. It must have been around 1904 that they drove to Rome by car. It took them many days, since the road conditions were still very adventurous and a pneumatic defect always caused a stay of a few hours. Everything had to be removed, pecked and put back on the rims and only then fastened onto the car. And in the morning, before driving on, a small fire was lit under the car so that the oil became soft and liquid again. But they arrived there and were very proud of their athletic performance.

But for one summer we stayed on Brioni. My dear Missi was on vacation in Scotland. I must have been five years old at the time and was placed in the nanny`s care of my younger sister. Unfortunately we did not have a very harmonious relationship. I still can see her standing in front of me: fat, with red cheeks and a very hot tempered person. In the morning I had to meet her to have my hair done, which turned out to be extremely painful because she had got a firm hand and let off her displeasure while brushing my hair. As soon as she had finished, I disappeared as quickly as I could and was left to my own devices until noon, which I enjoyed very much. – My favourite whereabout was the cowshed and the cheese factory that belonged to it. I spent a lot of time there, especially in the afternoons when the milk was distributed. The cheesemaker was my very special friend, as I felt instinctively as a child that people who were nice to animals were also nice to children. – I was always allowed to fill the bottles with milk, but had to stand on a chair, otherwise I would not have reached the milk tub. – In the mornings I spent some time in the forest, but my favourite place were the cliffs, where one could find so many interesting things. Small shrimps in the brines or, if you picked up stones, the most peculiar animals were creeping underneath them. We were taught how to catch prawns without being pinched by them or knocking down mussels out of the rocks. Sometimes the fingers got hurt. But the most wonderful thing was the bike. A very nice big boy taught me how to ride a bike and I was so happy about it. I could not get on or get off on my own for a long time, but the latter I learned by riding an old man between his legs, who was deaf and had not heard my ringing of my bell and therefore had a fall. In the nick of time I got off the bike and that was how I learned it. But I felt terribly sorry for the poor old gentleman and I probably looked remorse-filled because he was not too angry with me and even helped me to get on the bike. My knees had to suffering quite a lot that summer. Again and again they had come with great force into contact with the sharp chalky gravel. I often had to walk up the stairs to the doctor’s house to stunch the blood – but I did not care at all, because the bike was the greatest pleasure for me. Of course, I always stayed much too long in the water, but my parents were very young at that time and always so busy with other things, so that they did not notice what was going on.

A young nephew of my father and budding cellist, who spent the summer on Brioni, taught me and gave me an idea of how to play the piano. I always enjoyed listening to him when he practised, so he taught me a piece of piano music that he accompanied on the cello and from then on I became addicted to everything that had to do with music. I learned to read music even before I could read letters and even at that time I tried to find and play some melodies on the piano. My father was indescribably musically, and he could immediately –play from memory on the piano everything that he had heard before, He was playing the piano for hours fantasizing, and often with me on his knees. He took my right hand to play a melody with it and accompanied it with his other hand. I liked it very much, of course, and always crouched next to him when he was playing. – But that was a little later.

Concerning that summer, which was the most wonderful one of all the summers, I really enjoyed myself immensely. But unfortunately the long stays in the water and too much sun were not good for a girl of my age, so one day I woke up in the morning with a headache and very troublesome stomach ache. Paula, the “nanny” informed my mother, and the result of that was that our nice and good doctor Lenz had to come, who noticed me having a fairly high temperature and therefore prescribed the normal tablespoon of castor oil and to stay in bed. I found both extremely annoying, but when I was only at the age of 5/6, adults were so much bigger and stronger that unfortunately I had to accept my fate. I felt really wretched anyway and so I stayed in bed for some time, did not get anything to eat except gruel and when I was allowed to get up again after one week, I was a little bit weak and my formal marvellous freedom was considerably limited. I was only allowed to visit the milk room, to see my dear friend Pepi, and to pour out the milk there. Soon afterwards Missi returned from her vacation, and was horrified by my appearance and shed bitter tears. She could not understand at all that her poor child had been so very much neglected during her absence and was furious with the nanny who had not paid enough attention.

Well, that summer was over anyway, and Missi’s resolute voice put things in order again. I could then no longer complain about too much restricted freedom. I had my normal life back again and the feeling of security, which was not bad, either.

We always had a lot of fun at Christmas. Not only that once there was a young donkey under the Christmas tree (and to our great amusement immediately left its mark on the red velour carpet), but there was also a little lamb for my sister, which gave us enormous pleasure. The next morning, of course, the donkey had to be tried out as a mount. My father put — a bridle on the donkey, and a blanket on its back and then we were ready for a start. – Until then I had only ridden a good old workhorse that usually did everything you wanted it to do, but Gigi – that was the name of the donkey – did not know (or did not want to know) what was expected from him. Even if we talked to him nicely, it did not help. As soon as I was sitting on his back he did not want to go on any step and we thought the situation was pretty hopeless. Then he suddenly changed his mind, put all his weight on his hind hooves, snatched the reins from my father’s hand and was galloping towards the stable with heehaws that sounded like a trumpet. I lost control and was flying through the air and hit hard on a heap of gravel. My collarbone was a bit injured because I could not lift my arm, but at that time they neither had x-raying or nor plaster, and certainly not in Pula, so the arm was put in a sling, but life went on. Of course, for the time being I was not allowed to ride Gigi. So he was hitched up to the wagon but did not think about going only one step ahead. Only a young cousin who always visited us over Christmas was able to make him go by using force. We were racing as if we were driving a racing car, but we did not make the first corner. Nevertheless we thought that was very amusing.

In general, the Christmas holidays were a fountain for all sorts of cheating that a boy was capable of and, of course, I was very enthusiastic to join in. As my grandfather always used to say, “There is certainly no stupidity that is not cooked up- in a little boy´s brain.” Boys also have a lot more imagination than girls. I would never have dared to touch my dear grandmother’s holy tricycle. But with “Hubsi” we drove all over the place on the sacred wheel until we were caught! But immediately afterwards a new practical joke was thought up. My mother was the stricter parent. Although she was not much with us in our early childhood, because she was a city kid, very interested in art and literature, and spent many months of the year in Vienna, leaving my father far too often alone. He was an extremely happy person, and he loved us, his children, very much and spent many hours the evening with us in the children’s room, telling us the most beautiful self-invented stories – mostly with long, exciting continuations with musical accompaniment.

His great passion was sailing and since we had no brother, I was allowed to be the 3rd sailor on the ship. We were sailing not only in summer but also in winter. I often had to hold the rudder during a storm, wrap my arms around it and brace myself against the wall. But my father insisted that I had to learn everything concerning sailing. Once when we were doing the turning manoeuvre the mainsail hit me and I found myself – luckily not in the water – but on the bottom of the ship! In spite of all of that, I was very proud that I was allowed to join him and any seasickness that would have afflicted me heavily, could not have stopped me. Later on, I was allowed to sail my own small dinghy, but only inside the port, which I really enjoyed doing, either.

The most beautiful sailing memories were always the big regattas in early summer and once we also won the “Kaiser Prize”. – It was also wonderful sailing on a sunny day only with a light wind from astern (meaning following wind) and a trawl net (called “Perangel”). We were surprised what came to light in the net, which was exciting but also very different. You could find everything from the most beautiful starfish and shells up to an old shoe.

Very interesting deep-sea research was done several times a year by the biological station in Rovigno, a small village just north of Brioni. The leader was Professor Cori, the father of the later Nobel prize-winner. He often came to our inshore waters with his small motor yacht and we often went (I was also allowed to join them) for many days around the island, where he took water samples from various depths and examined them under the microscope. It was astonishing how different the little living things looked, which were romping in those water drops. For shallow waters, he used a box with a glass bottom, to watch the larger sea animals at the bottom of the sea. One could learn a lot about the characteristics of the different animals and plants and I tried to research and observe on my own initiative on the cliffs, above and under the water.

I was also very lucky to have a very nice teacher who had taught me for eight years and he had not only taught me how to read and how to write, he always held his natural history classes outdoors, explaining the secrets of the animals and plants, which was very interesting for me. We also practised track and field: throwing the javelin, throwing the discus, we made good use of jogging and we did gymnastics correctly. At the end of the school year, I always had to take an exam at the naval school in Pula, which I was terribly scared of. Trembling at the thought of the exam, I took the steamer to Pula in the morning, I even could not remember any date or year, a yawning void was in my brain, only the emotions of fear and excitement were left.

Arriving at Pula at the big school building, I was led into a slightly darkened classroom – it was already summer and quite warm – a strict looking teacher came in, accompanied by the headmaster and the catechist and then the “interrogation” began. Strangely enough, all the dates and years that had gone out of my mind, came back to my mind, and all of a sudden I knew when the “Battle of Salamis” had taken place and I reported about the heroic battles at Thermopylae, so that they soon waved me off gratefully and switched to other topics. The kind catechist whispered something to me when I began to flag about the 10 commandments and when he tried to show me the correct number of the apostles with his fingers, I raised the number of the apostles to 1200! But finally I had passed the exam. The certificate was “medium-fine”, but I had passed and I was very relieved because I could enjoy a carefree summer that lay ahead of me.

Only the piano lessons continued, which I enjoyed very much, because my excellent piano teacher from Pula with that beautiful name, “Wanda de Posarelli”, was very generous. She taught me the correct position of the hands, but she never noticed that I had never done finger exercises or had practised my “Czerny”; because I thought both of them were boring. I tried to read all notes that I could get and quickly learned to read them well, and I really had a good time. So I cheated my way through the piano lessons by insisting on playing four-handed, so that she hardly realized that I hadn’t practised at all. But, as I mentioned before, she was very generous.

Much later, when I met a marvellous teacher in Vienna, who had been a student of Clara Schumann, I got to know and suddenly I understood the meaning of how important it was to practise the piano. When I played something to her for the first time, she listened to me patiently, shook her head and said, “Musically very talented, but horrendously sloppy!” From then on I started practising properly and enjoyed it very much.

One summer I suddenly had the delusion of playing the violin, which I was only allowed on condition that I should never give up playing the piano, and that was why I was so grateful to my mother. I made it on the violin to play the sonatas, but as I was too comfortable to practise the violin as well, I gave it up after a few years, although I also had a lot of fun and enjoyed playing it.

I also played duos with a playmate who later became my husband – not for the pleasure of the others, but we had a lot of fun.

As every year, we went to “Böckstein” for a week where my mother wanted to meet her two cousins and to enjoy the mountain air. For us children it was terribly boring there, it was raining almost all day long, the weather was cold. My cousin Hubsi was there too, so we were only thinking about playing tricks. He fetched an air rifle and on the second floor there were balconies with wooden railings that had small heart-shaped cut outs. Up there we were lying in wait with the rifle and when someone passed by we aimed at his bottom. Well, we had to stop that game immediately (understandably). However, we were not pleased at all and thought of doing other silly things. So we went to the garden of an inn and took off a large board on which there was a big hand pointing to the toilets and hung it on the door of an elderly lady. That was very badly received, either. Then I had the idea to put on the record of Liszt’s Rhapsody on the electric piano in the guest room, and to pretend to play it myself. It was wonderful to be admired as a child prodigy since the people who passed by did not notice that the piano was playing by itself. But I could not keep it up for long, because I had to laugh out loud and so that swindle blew up.

Then one day the declaration of war was made to Serbia and we quickly packed our bags and went back to Pörtschach, where the larger part of the family was, especially my beloved grandparents. – Daddy had already voluntarily entered the motorcar corps with his own car. We children thought the general mood was very exciting. Cigarettes were filled non-stop, in order to distribute- them when military trains were passing. Or you plucked charpies out of old linen (instead of cotton). In the meantime- it was decided what was to be done with us. Due to the proximity of the war habour Pula, Brioni was the front line and probably all civilians would have to leave the island. Therefore we stayed in Pörtschach for much longer and only left it at the end of October, but unfortunately not to Brioni, but towards Vienna. Mummy had rented a furnished apartment (funnily enough, it belonged to Eugene d’Albert, with his piano, a wonderful Bechstein, on which I had often played. My sister “Mausi” and I were sent to the “Sacré Coeur” in Pressbaum.

That was probably the saddest time of my life after all the freedom, sun and wonderful nature! Looked up due to a monastic life, which was particularly strict at the time, made me feel as if I were inside a prison. You were never allowed to say a word. Only in the leisure time funny games were played, but since I had private piano and violin lessons, that time was pinched off from my leisure time. The classes were great fun for me, I only had to get used to them – but it was still a prison for me and first I became homesick and later I was pining for home, especially during the night. In fact, I was always tear-swollen.

The grey, foggy November weather, was always terribly cold, the rooms were very hardly heated, and the water in my small jug that stood in the middle of the washbowl on my beside table, was icy. Not only that, but also the harsh climate was not very beneficial to my health. I always had a cold, or a terrible angina alternately and I spent many days in the sickroom, mostly all by myself. In a cupboard I found the complete edition of the “Bibliotheque Rose” and so I spent my days reading with either having fever or a sore throat but at least I could study a bit French. Right from the beginning, I had a violent argument with my piano teacher, because she only gave me short pieces for palm court music to exercise instead of Schubert or Schumann music which I wanted to play. Because of my passive behaviour I finally won – I was allowed to learn an allegretto from Schubert, which I was even allowed to play in front of the Mother Superior. –
Those were only some episodes from my life in the girls’ boarding school.

Our dear grandfather always visited us when he was in Vienna. He was allowed to return to Brioni with my grandmother, otherwise there were only marines and some artillery on the island. The hotels had been confiscated by the navy and the port was determined for the submarines. My poor grandmother was seriously ill at the time and was cared for by our dear Missi.

We spent Christmas in Vienna and then we had to go back to our “prison”. In contrast to me, my sister “Mausi” was not sad at all. She always had great fun, and although she was naughty, and got up to all sorts of pranks, she had an “as bien” every Sunday as a mark for the week, which she always received with a smile on her face, as if it was the highest award. Well, she had chosen the better attitude and therefore was not unhappy. Then something terrible happened to her. She was taken ill with scarlet fever, had to leave the boarding school and was taken to a children’s hospital together with my mother, who was allowed to stay with her. I was also running a temperature and angina at the same time and was transported to my dear “Aunt Mausi”. There, I had to spend six weeks incubation period because they were afraid that scarlet fever could break out.

My poor grandmother was very invalid and could hardly walk around. Her only joy was sometimes travelling around the island in a horse and carriage and my little sister was allowed to accompany her. But then, when autumn came, she really was in a very bad way, and could hardly get out of her bed. Only when my grandfather returned from a trip, she always tried to go towards him and cried with joy, which was indescribably touching. – In November, she was delivered from her suffering. She was lying in her coffin as calm and peaceful as if she was sleeping. It was my first experience with death. My dear grandfather was very, very sad and could not get over the loss for a long time. At that time I had the task to read aloud to him because he had problems with his eyes. I still remember long political articles which he was very much interested in, but they seemed completely odd to me. I often tried to skip complete paragraphs, but unfortunately I could not get away with that with him, because my grandfather usually noticed the swindle very quickly and I had to repeat the particular paragraph. But he was never angry with me and full of understanding of everything that depressed me.

In the meantime it was Easter again, my time was over and I should have gone back to Pressbaum. My mother and Mausi were still in hospital and my grandfather was just back in Vienna and I begged him to take me with him to Brioni. He had mercy on me and so I could see my beloved sunny island again, which was like a real paradise on earth! My little, youngest sister had been taken to Brioni before by my grandfather and lived in the castle with her dear old nanny. As soon as I could join them I was very happy. Annelie, somehow had always been like my own little child. I was allowed to give her a bath and feed her when she was a baby and I always played Schnapsen with her dear Iglauer wet nurse (she was very delicate as a child).

The three of us then lived in the old castle. My uncle’s wife was also on Brioni, she was very pretty and in love with life. Of course, she always had young marines around her who were crazy about her and sometimes I was allowed to stay with her. So it happened that as a young girl I already had a small bunch of young boys around me. My aunt was surrounded by sublieutenants, who were already commanding officers of the submarines, and for me, the younger generation, (frigate lieutenants) they were just the right ones. Although I was not very often taken with them, it was very exciting and romantic after all to be together with all those young heroes (because that was what they really were). They all were only charming and chivalrous and treated me like a princess. I took that all for granted. They all behaved as gentlemen, and yet they also respected the young, unspoilt soul of mine. Of course, I had a special weakness for one, only he teased me about my youth (not quite 15 years old) and I treated him in return as an elderly gentleman.

Then the day came when they had to sail, “on action”, as they called it. They were supposed to stay out for four weeks, but they did not come back. They were sent to the bottom by the Italians outside of Venice. – After the war, I found his grave on Venice’s cemetery island.

It was perhaps the first time in my life that I realized how relentless such a war was. But soon I forgot all about it and other people and heroes came into my life. I made many acquaintances, and showed them my goodwill alternately – but remained a young girl and the boys were my squires. Since I had my birthday in summer, I got a nice birthday snack and, since there were no girls on the island, some frigate lieutenants dressed up as girls for me, which was especially funny.

Since the submarine base was stationed on Brioni and an airplane (seaplanes) base was stationed on a nearby island, we were friends with both of them and my most ardent wish was to try both. A diving test was discussed and therefore I went on board — a submarine for the promised diving test. Of course, I stayed in the tower at the periscope, through which you could observe everything, even when the submarine had submerged, but only the periscope had to be above the surface of the water. Then our submarine dived at a depth of 40 metres and you could not see anything any-more through the periscope. You could only look through the thickly glazed windows. It was rather dark and green and occasionally you could watch fishes swimming by. Then the captain gave the order to surface and all of a sudden there was a terrible crash. Nothing could be seen through the periscope and the call “the spindle is leaking” came from the lower rooms. What that meant was, of course, quite unclear to me. But the captain remained calm and ordered the sailors to open the hatch of the tower and then we saw, thank God, that we had already surfaced and had left the barricades behind. By coming up we had cut the nets of the barricades and got caught in the nets with the periscope. At the same time the periscope was bent and caused the terrible noise. All of us were very relieved, but we could also imagine what it would have been like in case of emergency. Of course, the poor commanding officer was constantly teased by his comrades because of that.

Quite different was my first flight. My greatest wish was, of course, to be able to fly once, but I was strictly forbidden to do it – which gave me a bit more of an incentive!

There were two Ulmansky brothers in the navy. One of them served in the navy, and was called “old Uli” – and the other one was in the naval air force, and was called “small Uli“ (although he was not small at all). One afternoon I was at home all alone when suddenly the phone rang, and old Uli answered and told me that his brother would be waiting for me in the bay of Val Catena in a quarter of an hour. Never before had I arrived so fast at that small port, of course, with my dog Lordi, who had always been with me, and with old Uli, who had to look after the dog while I was in the air. Everything worked out splendidly! Inside the plane, which was an open machine, a double-decker, you sat in the gondola, which only had space for two people – above there was the engine and propeller.

Then we started. We flew above the water and soon were up in the air! What a picturesque scenery when the sun was setting. You could see dear Missi walking on the ground and good old Uli hiding with the dog in the bushes. – I was not scared at all, the whole situation was extremely thrilling. When we saw the motorboat with the commanding officer below us my pilot pointed at me that we would make a dive (we could only communicate with gestures because the roar of the engines was so loud that you could not even hear your own voice). I held on tight with my hands, because there were no seat belts, and before I realized what happened, we had already flown over the boat. It was wonderful and the whole thing was extremely tingling. Unfortunately we had to go back soon, because otherwise they would have noticed my absence. So we had to go back again to Catena. There the submarine brother was waiting for me with my dog and I was back home before Missi arrived. Of course, I immediately had to confess everything, because it had been such a great adventure. She made a stern face, but since everything was already over, she was soon reconciled again. – Many years later, when I saw such a former Austrian naval aircraft in the Naval Museum in Bari, I could neither imagine that I had entered such a plane, nor could I imagine that I had flown with it. But when you are young, you do not think about the danger, you just enjoy the tingle of the moment.

It was not always that peaceful. Then we had the time of the Italian bombing of Pula and especially Brioni because of the submarines. The full moon nights in particular were very dangerous. Of course, we were not prepared for those things and always fled to the basement of our thousand-year-old tower when there was an air-raid warning, which, of course, was very unsafe and certainly would have collapsed through an exploding bomb and we would have been buried alive. I only remember that I was often sitting alone with my little sister, Annelie, trembling with fear. Funnily enough one was really scared when it had crashed all the way around.

My 18th birthday was happy and carefree. I got lots of flowers and finally felt grown up. But you could hear bad news from all the different war fronts. Day and night you could hear the rumbling of guns from the Italian front, and from the Bocca di Cattaro the mutiny of sailors was reported. The last days of October were the worst. We received the news that Emperor Karl had given the Navy to the Yugoslavs as a present and the confusion was immensely great. In Pula, the sailors began to be rude to the officers. The “badge of rank” was pulled down from their uniforms. Suddenly the unified companionship was disintegrated into many different nations and many of them tried to return to their native countries as quickly as possible, especially the Hungarians and Poles. Only our submarines stayed calm, because the officers had a completely different relationship to their people. Everything was disbanded in peace. I still remember the call from a leading seaman who answered the telephone booth: we should not be afraid because he would protect us. The Yugoslavian (ex-Austrian) Navy ruled Pula for a week and we were quite happy about it, since there were many old friends there. Then one day two Italian torpedo boats came into the port of Pula, enthusiastically welcomed by the Yugoslavs (there had been an armistice for a week). The next morning they sank the largest warship, the “Viribus Unitis” with the Yugoslavian flag on the mast, and celebrated it as a great heroic deed! It did not take long and then the Yugoslavs had to move further south.

Unfortunately my grandfather was not on Brioni at that time. He was on a research trip in Serbia looking for minerals (gold). He had himself fastened to a material transporter and spent days exploring the various mountains. Unfortunately, he caught a cold and was in the hospital with fever for weeks, which he, unfortunately, left as a dead man. At that time we were completely cut off from the hinterland and only learned all about it when he had already been buried. It was an unimaginably great loss and many things had been different not only on Brioni but also in our lives. My uncle was then the sole manager of Brioni and had to solve a very difficult problem – my grandfather had always spent all his fortune and all the percentage of his profits which he had received as a member of the various boards for projects on the island.

In addition to the Italian- ships, there were also English and French ships which came to Pula. Our poor mariners who had stayed behind did not know where to go. Many of them were just visited by their families. The train did not work and they were at the mercy of the Italians. They mobilized a large ship that was supposed to take in all those home comers and promised them that they would be taken to the Austrian border, via Venice, within three days. It was All Souls´ Day – a grey sky, a grey sea and a terribly sad atmosphere. We were standing at the “Molo” and saying goodbye to all of our friends. We were waving to them for a very long time and then we were left alone among the strange enemies who treated us as their enemies. We were constantly watched; when we went to Pola every now and then and there was always someone behind us who was watching us. The Italian command on Brioni was anything else but not inspiring confidence. The officers were scented, made themselves up, and with long cigarette holders, they were stalking around like peacocks and were really disgusting.

We then wanted to get into contact with the English with the help of Missi (she was Scotswoman) and we were successful. They protected us from the Italians and did everything they could to secure the property of the Austrian marine-s. For example, at dead of night, they transported all the furniture from the “Villa Trapp” (our most successful submariner) to Fiume to his wife’s family (Whithead). We also had flotsam and jetsam in keeping and when the Italians started to plunder those things we searched all the suitcases and boxes and hid all the weapons and “Zeiss” glasses as good as we could. The “Zeiss” glasses were all hidden in the harmonium in the church and most of the weapons were stored in the beds. – Many years later, when all things had been returned to their rightful owners, my mattress was altered and what was falling out? The magazine of a Browning pistol! I had slept on it for years.

Then shortly before Christmas we received a forces´ postcard from Venice, from a soldier of the refugee boat. They had never been taken to the border, but locked up like a prisoner of war in a damp, cold fort. Well, our English friends acted excellently and two days later they were back in Austria.

Gradually we got used to the foreign regime, although we had some brush with the enemy. For example, the Italian soldiers had great fun to let go of their dogs towards breeding pheasant hens and then to shoot them. Our dear parish priest Peter Krelinger – a mature and experienced Tyrolean who, of course, hated the “Eyeties” and was also a passionate, honourable hunter, was terribly infuriated at watching that scene. He once snatched the rifle from an Italian and wanted to shoot the dog. But that did not do him any good, because he was arrested and handed over in chains to the prison in Pula. Luckily, the window of his prison cell was to the street, and the cell was on the ground floor, so we were able to provide him with food and with words of encouragement. My uncle then managed to get him free, but was not allowed to go back to the island, instead he had to go back to his native country in Schwaz.

Something similar happened a few years later. At the south point of the island, customs officers were stationed who came from time to time to fetch the mail and things of that kind. They had a small wagon in front of which two equally small donkeys were harnessed. They always badly maltreated those poor animals with their whips. My mother, who was very fond of animals, once happened to arrive on the scene, snatched away the whip from their hands and beat the men wildly so that they fled to the house next door – shouting loudly “ma signora, ma signora”. I do not know if it was of any use, but at least when my mother was nearby they did not do any harm to the poor animals.