Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

‘And that, I fancy,’ murmured the little priest, ‘might not be — er — entirely desirable, eh?’ And he turned to his hostess with a gesture that seemed to be asking her opinion. Countess Elise merely smiled; she was not one to embroil herself in any argument, and certainly not a political one. Instead it was her sister-in-law, Countess Illesvary, who was sitting next to her brother and who loved nothing better than discussing politics, who replied, ‘But that would be dreadful!’

‘It could still happen! Especially if no socialist candidate presents himself and if the Constitutional party doesn’t withdraw! Even then it wouldn’t be easy unless the clergy and all the white-collared employees banded together. And this could only come about if — how shall I put it? — the High Court of Jablanka was known to approve and support such a move.’

Now Wuelffenstein thought he should put his oar in, though moderating his usual vehemence as he knew Szent-Gyorgyi considered any sign of enthusiasm to be a breach of good manners. Even so his voice trembled with emotion as he said, ‘It’s really too much to ask this of us. Why, the Constitutional party suffered enough last year when the district boundaries were re-drawn; and what’s more it’s entirely against the movement towards party unity.’

The priest turned his well-shaven face in the direction of Fredi. Pfaffulus’s antenna-like eyebrows were lightly raised as he took out the long-handled lorgnette, which was kept stuck between two buttons sewn to the red sash round his waist, looked hard at the young politician, and said, ‘In my modest opinion, I feel that the voters’ feelings must be allowed to count for something, don’t you think?’

‘As far as the voters are concerned, it doesn’t really matter which party or coalition they vote for. We’re all in the same camp and everyone’s got more or less the same programme!’ was Wuelffenstein’s cynical reply.

‘How right you are!’ said Szent-Gyorgyi coldly. ‘There’s not a pin to choose between the lot of you!’

This was an acid reference to the mutually incompatible policies which had recently led to the dissolution of the pact which had resulted in an uneasy alliance between the ruling 1867 Party and those who supported the complete independence of Hungary from Austria. Fredi, however, did not grasp the allusion.

‘I’m glad you agree!’ said Wuelffenstein, entirely missing the point and believing his host to be on his side. ‘Neither Kossuth nor the People’s Party should put forward a candidate. They’ve absolutely no right, no right at all! Why should we be forced to surrender a district? Never, as far as I’m concerned!’

‘ En politique et en amour il n’y-a ni jamais ni toujours — in politics as in love there is no never and no always!’ quoted Countess Illesvary, laughing at Fredi’s insistence.

‘And what about the legal aspect? Could the law remain as it is?’ asked Pfaffulus in a low sweet voice.

‘Well, it’s an old adage that a law respected will live on but a law ignored will soon die of its own accord.’

‘And the union of our ruling parties? Can it survive no matter what happens? Will today’s Coalition endure even when the franchise has been broadened? Even now, are the parties really united on, for example, the Croatian question? I can hardly believe that Andrassy agrees with the dismantling of the Unionist Party which is, after all, our only real support?’

Countess Elise also found any sort of wrangling or dispute bad manners; and for her it was particularly bad form to disagree about Hungarian politics in the presence of strangers. She therefore turned to the only stranger present, Count Slawata, and, so as to make everyone understand her meaning and speaking rather more loudly than usual and in German, she said, ‘Do forgive us, Count, for this little discussion in Hungarian about domestic affairs which can’t possibly interest you.’

The counsellor to the Foreign Ministry in Vienna turned to his hostess and, in his most diplomatic tones and smiling through his thick lenses, said, ‘Oh, but I do understand a little Hungarian, you know, and what Seine Hochwürden — his Reverence — has just said is very true. It’s all a great pity for the Croatian unionists who are, they say, the only party to be truly Kaisertreu — loyal to the Emperor — and they say …’

At this Szent-Gyorgyi intervened.

‘ Königstreu! — loyal to the King, if you please!’ for in spite of his Viennese sympathies and personal devotion to Franz-Josef himself, he would always strictly maintain the niceties of etiquette of the Dual Monarchy. Also he was not sorry to administer a gentle rap on the knuckles of the secret envoy of the Belvedere Palace.

‘Natürlich! Natürlich! — Of course! Of course!’ said Slawata with a bow before continuing, ‘Rumour has it that the Ban is seeking new elections in Croatia too. That would be most aggravating, and could end in untold disaster.’

The conversation continued for a while and the Croatian situation was considered, in all its aspects, with many details, for Szent-Gyorgyi owned a considerable property in Szeremseg (which, of course, Pfaffulus knew) and the host was therefore eager to hear what the well-informed priest could tell him. However all of this was discussed in measured, somewhat subdued tones, following the ancient tradition by which the most radical of opposing opinions could be expressed providing that it was done with gravity and finesse.

Though Balint took no part in this conversation, for the Croatian problem was not one of his fields of interest, he still found it useful to listen to what was being said. However his neighbour at the table, young Magda, found the subject boring. With a sudden little bird-like movement of her head she turned to Abady and asked, ‘Well, how many did you bag this morning, in your corner?’

‘I really don’t know. I didn’t count exactly. Perhaps a hundred and fifty … or a hundred and sixty or so.’

‘That’s not very much! Last year we didn’t have a real shoot as we were all in mourning for my uncle, though Papa and the boys used to go out whenever they could — just walking the fields, you know; but the year before that the corner gun shot 237 hares alone.’

‘Who had that place? He must have been a better shot than I am!’

‘Oh!’ she paused, embarrassed. ‘I don’t remember!’

‘Nonsense!’ said Balint. ‘Whatever can you mean? You know he shot 237 hares, but you don’t know who did it?’ He laughed. ‘Come on, out with it! Who was it?’

Magda’s voice was very low when she replied, and her manner suddenly seemed oddly frightened.

‘It was poor Laci, that’s who it was …’ and she lifted her finger to her lips and looked across at her father. ‘Papa has forbidden us to talk about him. Even his name is never to be mentioned in the house … but we’re all so sorry for him!’

Coffee and liqueurs were served in the great drawing-room by an army of silent footmen.

The hostess only stayed in the room for a few moments. In spite of a roaring fire in the great open fireplace and two white porcelain stoves heating the far ends of the room, Countess Elise still fancied she was cold; and so, with Fanny Beredy and Klara, she quickly retired to her own cosy little sitting-room. When she had gone most of the men of the party, with Countess Illesvary, gathered round the fireplace in the centre of the room while Magda and Lili Illesvary, with Louis Kollonich and the two young sons of the house, sat down at a round table near one of the porcelain stoves and played a game with chips called ‘Hoppity’ that was fashionable that year.