by Peter Nadas
Their glances, made painful with self-accusation and mutual incredulity, met once again.
They did not have much time for clandestine glances or stolen moments in which somehow to comprehend this, their very first public lovers’ quarrel. As contrary to their intentions, they found themselves in an impossible situation and had quickly to extricate themselves from the incomprehensible awkwardness, but they could not clarify anything: swishing her silken skirts, the black-haired lady approached to take her leave of them. But not before she made Madzar promise that the next morning he would come and join the students for sketching and watercolors. And in a moment she had read it all on their faces, perhaps more than was realistically possible, but she gauged everything by their stiff posture, in which one could not separate reality from opportunity. The two of them tried hard not to let her see anything. Nor could they have forgotten Mrs. Szemző’s energetic husband in his white linen suit, standing only a few steps away, busy with the porters and sending urgent glances in their direction because of the children. This is no time for long conversations. But luckily the two boys, all excited by the horses, were running back toward their mother. They ran to her in their identical white shirts and dark-blue pants fitted with suspenders, as if the horrible realization hit them like a blow to their bodies that a total stranger was now threatening their absolute power over their mother. They hung on her neck, pulled her down with their weight, telling her to come see the horses and, mainly, not to leave their father’s side for even a moment. They were demonstrating to the stranger, brazenly and shamelessly, their unbelievable power over everything. Madzar could see with his own eyes that this Mrs. Szemző was not an independent person; her two sons had her branded and shackled. Dr. Szemző, on the other hand, could relax and feel that they were all safe for at least a few moments. In all this emotional and social chaos and cacophony, the black-haired lady, swishing her yards of silk and rattling her ivory bracelets, whose name Madzar did not catch at the first or second hearing, arranged to be at the Hotel Korona with the Szemzős in an hour and a half.
For a drink, as she put it.
By then it would be clear whether they’d all go together for lunch somewhere, or to some restaurant, which someone must have already arranged with someone else.
But not with him; all this had been done without him.
This new information stunned Madzar, but he took a firm grip on himself. He politely accompanied them in the hackney to the hotel, enthusiastically pointing out and explaining things to the boys, so as not to feel his own pain.
Standing in the hotel lobby, which was dark, wainscoted, pleasantly cool, the Szemzős told him by way of good-bye that after supper they wanted to pay a visit, if only to make the acquaintance of his mother. Of course they’d come without the boys so as not to be too much of a burden.
Oh, not at all.
There was some give and take about this—perhaps they should all come for supper. They oscillated between yes and no.
And would he kindly excuse them for missing lunch, begged Mrs. Szemző, which Madzar could not understand—indeed at that moment he didn’t understand anything and nor could Dr. Szemző.
What lunch did we miss, darling, the latter asked.
The head of the hospital, a dear colleague of her husband, is expecting them at the Drágffy restaurant for a fish lunch, explained Mrs. Szemző almost desperately, so that at least one of the two men would understand the situation.
And the longer they tortured themselves with the obligatory politeness, the more embarrassing and painful the situation became, though individually none of them could have specified why.
As if here, in the city of his birth, perfect strangers were shutting him out of his own life.
He has the reputation of being a courteous man and therefore his life becomes one of slavishly satisfying other people’s wishes.
This is how Madzar was fuming inside.
But Dr. Szemző was also taking a good look at the place where he had wound up, asking himself what he was doing in this decaying country hotel.
Well, then, until eight tonight, all three of them were saying, making their parting sound light and cheerful. They were about to move out of the humiliating situation, but trouble never comes singly. Down the red-carpet-covered steps came Chief Counselor Elemér Vay.
Baron Bellardi had hastily introduced Madzar to Vay on the Carolina, and the chief counselor vaguely remembered that, yet he had no idea who the plain-looking young man was who was now receiving him with a smile at the bottom of the stairs. They could not avoid exchanging pleasantries; after all, they had been introduced. But why would Chief Counselor Vay have remembered such a person. In general, he didn’t care whom he talked to, just as he hadn’t cared on the Carolina whom Bellardi might introduce to him. Unimportant people did not interest him, and since he had spent more than forty years at various levels of public administration, he rarely erred about people. And he remembered having quickly registered that with this acquaintance of his, Baron Bellardi had once again made a blunder.
In the new situation, however, Madzar could not but obey the rigorous rules of civility and introduce to this high-ranking, authoritative government official the couple at his side, who smiled obligingly, and then help them exchange a few brief, smooth, and totally noncommittal lighthearted remarks. He saw to it that all four of them, expressing the very best wishes and compliments, mutually bowed to one another and then parted, in the merciless coolness of the bowing ritual and the friendliest possible spirit.
As befitted the chief counselor’s rank, an automobile was waiting for him outside the hotel, a sparkling dust-gray Mercedes Nürnberg with its enormous, immaculately glittering black fenders and comfortably wide running boards; the prince of Montenuovo had sent it.
By now, Madzar was seething. No one saw any of this on his face, of course, whose features were set to support an affable smile. All of them were showing their teeth; this was the odd way in which they reassured one another of their peaceful and friendly intentions. As if to say, just this one last time, that they were willing to forgo their dangerous bestiality. Elemér Vay was not overly pleased by this chance encounter, however, though responses like this could never be seen on him, and he made his way through the lobby looking quite content. He was clean-shaven; he had brought a cloud of scent with him, and now he was taking the cloud away with him. His suit, of the finest gray cotton, was freshly pressed; the crease of his pants could cut like a blade’s edge. Around his neck he wore a much too colorful silk cravat, unsuited to his sober appearance; it was a gift from his young wife and contrary to his social position, as it were, and it pleased him to wear it. His brown-and-white two-tone shoes had been polished to a glittering shine by his manservant, who had made ample use of his spittle in the effort. Given the strictly confidential nature of his conferences, the chief counselor could not deem this chance meeting pleasant.
And because of his high social position, sometimes it was difficult, occasionally impossible, to reach the real thing via appearances, but it was not always necessary for him to reach the real thing.
Bah, he would then say to himself, small stuff. Why should something I don’t know be important.
The chief bellboy rushed from behind the counter and, bowing and scraping, accompanied the distinguished gentlemen to the waiting automobile, which several small dirty children, scratching constantly, most likely from impetigo, were watching from the other side of the street.
Elemér Vay often pretended that servants were a burden to him and, as if to overburden the illusion, he looked through them as through air, but in fact, he approved of their eagerness to serve him. He looked at the bellboy from beneath half-lowered fleshy eyelids, which suggested sleepiness, just as, a moment ago, he’d given a quick glance to the features of the couple and their children and concluded they were Israelites, realizing that he would have to spend the night under the same roof with them in this decrepit hotel. He had found them and their exagger
ated politeness unpleasantly importunate.
Not to mention the conspicuous absence of dignity emanating from these persons, with their desire to make friends, something he knew to be characteristic of Israelites. He had no time to waste on such silly episodes. From a social point of view, however, he could be satisfied with the complicated ritual of the introductions, which had gone off well. In Elemér Vay’s language, this meant that these persons had demonstrated the proper respect for him even if they were themselves not—because they could not be—flawless; put plainly, they were not socially competent. First Madzar had asked permission to introduce the head physician and then the two of them made bold to introduce the chief counselor to the lady. He had to accept their uncouthness magnanimously, con grandezza.
In the company of the retired county subprefect, Chief Counselor Elemér Vay had held discussions during the previous days with the town clerk, Vitéz Antal Éber, about the particularly delicate and confidential plan to draw up a complete inventory of Jewish wealth in the city and about the legal contingencies and procedural details they might consider in connection with relocating the Jews and confiscating their wealth. Besides the chief counselor, very few people were familiar with all aspects of this rather adventurous plan, requiring exceptional circumspection; it had been prepared two years earlier and now, in light of the latest diplomatic reports, seemed advisable to revive.
The secret plan did not follow the usual county public-administration network and therefore did not necessarily feature the county seats; instead, the most important transportation junctions were its focal points. The plans were drawn up when information gained through diplomatic channels had made clear that the Germans were going to relocate their Jews to Madagascar and, since through the same channels there was hardly a trickle of diplomatic protest against this plan, Hungarian diplomats concluded that the silence of European powers would be the equivalent of consent.
According to the plans, Hungary would be divided into seven relocation regions, called sectors or zones, as they were listed in the German-language information material. In the following weeks and in the least conspicuous manner, Elemér Vay had to visit all seven zones and evaluate the technical and personnel requirements necessary for the plan. The Jewish population to be resettled would be transported from these zones to Mohács, where, from the city’s cargo dock, they could be shipped smoothly down to the Black Sea.
The chief counselor was on his way back from Belgrade to Buda, where he had to make his report to His Excellency the regent about the state of the lower Danube harbors, but since Mohács was on the way, he got off there to take care of the equally urgent matter of gauging the city’s actual facilities, killing two birds with one stone.
In the center of every zone, within the official system of public administration, he was supposed to establish a separate unit with access to up-to-date information, in constant contact with the secret police and local police authorities and ready to be activated at any time, so that at the appropriate moment it could officially take over the management of all public matters. Legally, the undertaking had weak points. In borough councils, magistracies, and land registries, in the various chambers of commerce and law as well as in societies, clubs, and unions it was not difficult to obtain reliable data, most of which had been available for years, but they also had to get to the accounts of smaller banks, not to mention making a jewelry and art-treasure inventory; they should be able at least to give reliable estimates that might later be confirmed. Which meant that without the network of secret police agents, it would be impossible to tackle this job.
His mission called for the establishment of a nationwide network. He had to entrust the preparation of it to experienced officials who were above suspicion. To avoid any misunderstandings or mistakes in the delicate matter of selecting confidential personnel, he consulted with members of the supreme council of the powerful secret organization Magyar Hadak, or Hungarian Hosts.
He eagerly accepted their personal recommendations to ensure the best possible tailwind helping him to go forward in his work.
But at this first and perhaps most important station, given the central role assigned to Mohács, he realized with some consternation what an infernally difficult project he had taken on. Not because the city lacked good facilities for moving masses of people on a large scale. Mohács had gigantic easy-to-guard storehouses, an empty lime-burning plant, a hospital for infectious diseases that had been state-of-the-art for decades, a comfortable barracks built during the monarchy in which very large combat units could be quartered without difficulty, and, most important, ancillary railway lines that ran from outside the city to the cargo dock where black coal from Pécs was loaded on huge, capacious barges.
But it was very hard to make the rich local aristocrats understand that they should cooperate and proceed in step for a better future when the chief counselor could not inform them in detail what that might mean. They took his straight, manly speech as an insult. The realization hit him as if he were stabbed by a dagger that he could no longer count on the natural sense of hierarchy understood by monarchist aristocrats known for their loyalty. And if he encountered obstacles like this in Mohács, what could he expect in the Alföld* zones, where the local nobility’s stubbornness and wrong-headedness truly had no limits. In his eyes, the insidious spread of liberalism and freethinking was frightening. As if the secret institution meant to protect the Hungarian nation had been eaten through by pathological principles it should have already tackled and overcome. Put boldly, perhaps the Hungarian Hosts were no longer ready to act like a mighty army. But the chief counselor did not breathe a word to anyone of this alarming and perhaps overly hasty thought of his.
Lesser aristocrats were active in core cells, called tent units; in families; and in clans of the secret society where an almost freemason-like spirit prevailed. They did not understand why Vay was so secretive about a matter that was, for them, ultimately not a secret but rather the constant subject of their confidential conversations—and had been for many decades. Why shouldn’t they be accustomed to and enjoy the special freedoms granted by their offices, why should they bother to heed any authority. While engaging with these aristocrats, at best one could bolster one’s argument by referring to the authority of His Excellency the regent, but they, positioning themselves behind this same reference, immediately engaged in intrigues designed to help them evade their task or at least interpret it with an eye to the profit they might gain from it.
Vay explained to them the procedure, requiring exceptional and particular circumspection, saying that a pioneering law was in the making, much more severe than the one enacted last May,* as he put it, and that is why the interior minister needs this secret inventory. Finding it was but the first step in a grand, long-range plan, he added before falling silent.
At which moment he had a most unheimlich feeling that, with this obligatory silence, the lords were looking at him as if he were an agent provocateur.
Now these three men had been invited to the Montenuovo castle, some distance from the city, where the prince, whose sentiments regarding the Hungarian cause were unquestioned, was giving an exclusive luncheon in honor of the chief counselor. It promised to be a pleasant meal, since in the most delicate matters Elemér Vay and the prince held identical views and they both knew this of each other. Vay looked to the prince for a quiet sort of reinforcement against the other grandees who professed radical emotions and liberal views—for a loftier opinion unequivocally pronounced. The prince had been informed of details that, given the nature of the matter, the retired subprefect and the town clerk could not know, so the chief counselor could expect to receive the reinforcement as early as during the aperitif.
Only no ressentiment, gentlemen, no ressentiment at all, the prince responded severely to the subprefect’s first, rather emotional words.
By which he meant that such a tone, in his princely presence and on this question, was not permitted.
Over his gla
ss the chief counselor shot a grateful glance to the prince. The two of them, unlike the others, did not surrender to emotions and sentiments when this subject came up; they were interested only in what was useful and whether what they considered useful was also plausible. Not only did they think that emotions had no place in the discussion, they had no use for views and opinions about foreign nationals. Which did not mean that they had not done the arithmetic showing the losses and gains of the proposed plan. If Hungarians, given their mental makeup, are more likely to hate Jews than hate subversive revolutionary ideas, even though the world has more to fear from the latter, then we need appropriate movements and arguments to protect them from a major Bolshevik upheaval. Therefore, not only is the inversion of cause and effect not problematic, it is downright fortunate and desirable.
And if others are already saying and doing this, it would be pointless to stand in their way, though it would also be a mistake not to keep this clever maneuver tightly controlled.
The final solution of the Jewish question may be achieved without further ado, for all time and to the complete satisfaction of our radicals.
But by itself, even the most thoroughgoing pogrom would be insufficient, as the prince was wont to say humorously, and it also would be foolish to play into Germany’s hands just to please the crowd.
They both inclined to consider beyond dispute Professor Lehr’s famous thesis regarding tactical accommodation, and regretted that our romantic compatriots tended to forget that today’s German interests differ from those of the much hated and much missed Habsburgs. Subjugating or weakening Hungarians is far from being in the interests of Germany today. We must remember that according to the most advanced genetic studies, only the Hungarians, along with Norwegians, can revitalize the German race. And with these words, Elemér Vay was quoting a foremost authority in the science of genetics, Professor Otmar Baron von der Schuer. From our point of view, of course, this scientific claim is unacceptable, but it does make clear that the survival and vitality of Hungarians is of basic interest to the Germans, not only for their selfish racist reasons but because Hungarian and German plans coincide at several vital points on the political level. And it would be a fatal mistake not to exploit these points in order to strengthen the nation’s position. Our task is to maintain a calm, dignified, self-respecting, resolute, and, mainly, ever-polite attitude toward the German element. Spiel mit, aber sei Dir dessen stets Bewusst, he shouted triumphantly.