Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

THE DAY PROMISED to be fine and bright. Some morning mist veiled the tops of the low hills, making their outlines hazy and uncertain, while below them the meadows seemed to stretch to an infinite distance. The fine weather would certainly last until the afternoon.

It was November 3rd, an important day for the hunting community because on it was celebrated the Feast of St Hubert, the patron saint of huntsmen, and each year on this day there was a special meet of the Transylvanian Hunt which was almost as much a social occasion as it was an important day in the sporting calendar. The hounds would meet at noon and by that time many people, mostly gentlefolk from the nearby towns and their manor-houses in the neighbourhood, would have arrived at the chosen place. So that more people would be able to watch the hunt, the St Hubert’s Day meet was held in the lowlands of the Szamos river valley.

Even in Hungary the hunting vocabulary was largely composed of English words, such as ‘a meet’, the ‘Master’, ‘huntsman’, ‘whip’, ‘tally-ho’, ‘run’, ‘check’ and ‘casting’. As a result dedicated sportsmen were quite clear as to the meaning of a sentence in mixed Hungarian and English, such as ‘At the “check” after the first “run”, when the Master “cast back”, I was acting as “whipper-in” at the side and didn’t hear the “tally-ho” …’ but to the uninitiated it would mean nothing.

This year the Master had chosen a place for the meet that had room for a vast crowd of people. It was a meadow near Apahida, barely eight miles from Kolozsvar, where the road beside the Szamos turned suddenly northwards and where it was joined by a smaller road that served the city’s vineyards. The place was ideally suited to the meet, for broad meadows spread on both sides of the road and there was plenty of space both for the riders and for the multitude of carriages that would bring the spectators. And when the hounds set off up the valley searching for the scent of a hare the carriages would all be able to follow along the highway itself. It was even possible, in the unlikely event that the quarry ran straight, that they would be able to follow the chase until its end; though, as hares were all too apt to run uphill, there was not much chance of that.

At eleven o’clock it was still early and only one rider had already arrived and was walking his two mounts, both covered with splendid saddle-cloths, slowly round the meadow.

Then a four-horse carriage arrived from the direction of the village, raced across the bridge over the river and stopped at the edge of the meadow. It was a large open landau and in it were seated Adrienne and her aunt, the amiable Countess Laczok.

‘You see, Aunt Ida,’ said Adrienne, smiling, ‘we aren’t at all late, in spite of your worrying so!’

‘You were quite right, my dear, we needn’t have hurried!’ agreed Countess Laczok, laughing to herself as she remembered the fuss she had made so as to set off in time. ‘But I was so excited, you know, for it’s a great day when your two big sons go out for the first time; a great day indeed!’ And she clasped Adrienne’s hand in hers.

They had driven over in the Miloths’ carriage, that wide, deep-sprung landau so typical of the plains. It was drawn by four big-boned chestnuts which Adrienne had brought to Kolozsvar from Mezo-Varjas as there would be much coming and going this autumn with Margit’s approaching wedding and she had not wanted to make use of the Uzdy horses.

They were followed by two other carriages, one of which was quite ordinary and brought the two Laczok girls, Anna and Ida. This was driven by Pityu Kendy, who had Anna by his side, while Ida sat behind them with a new acquaintance, a young man called Garazda who was studying law at the University of Kolozsvar.

The other vehicle was riding high on its four wheels and was what used to be called an ‘American chariot’. It had just two seats in front while behind there was only a narrow bench just large enough for a stable-boy. This was driven by Adam Alvinczy, and beside him sat his fiancée, Margit Miloth.

Adam, as tall men are apt to do, looked very dignified. Now he had even more reason to do so; firstly because he was engaged and soon to be married — so he could almost already be counted among the ranks of the married, and therefore serious, men. He was even beginning to look down on his old drinking friends, most of whom were still bachelors, and indeed often discussed with Margit what a worthless lot they were.

This air of new-found dignity also stemmed from the fact that Adam had practically given up drink himself and now sipped only a bare glassful of wine at mealtimes. This had been his own decision and had needed no urging from Margit, though it is true that before he had made her that promise, she had, without putting any pressure on him, one day let slip how nice it would be if he did so.

Adam’s air of assurance came also from the fact that he was now independent. He had given up his share of his mother’s inheritance to his brothers in exchange for their settling the substantial debts he had acquired during his wild days as a bachelor. When he did this his father had handed over to him in advance the estate of Tohat. Though it was the least valuable of the Alvinczy holdings, the rest of which would eventually be divided between his brothers, Margit had said it was better to possess it absolutely now and not wait for the future. She had discussed the whole matter with her future father-in-law, had the papers made out under her own supervision, and in no time at all the property was theirs. As a result they no longer need be upset or worried whatever debts the other three young Alvinczys might incur. This is how Adam looked at it — and Margit, of course, agreed with him — and it was perhaps fortunate for the young couple, since Gabor was apparently gambling even more heavily than before while Farkas seemed to be throwing his money around in Budapest. It was fortunate, too, because Margyar-Tohat was not far from Mezo-Varjas and so, as Margit pointed out happily, Adam would be able to help her father with the running of the Mezo-Varjas estate, and that this would be a kindly act as, even though farming was the most fascinating occupation in the world, old Rattle Miloth had never learned the first thing about it. Until this moment Adam had never thought about it either, but naturally everything was now changed since he had become engaged and had somebody with whom to discuss the future.

He was also proud of his beautiful new chariot. This had formerly belonged to Dinora Malhuysen when her complaisant husband, the amiable Tihamer Abonyi, had driven it with his matched pair of Russian trotters. After the scandal and the Abonyis’ divorce the trotters been sold, and one day it had occurred to Margit that maybe the beautiful American chariot might be for sale too. She guessed right, and Adam was able to buy it for a ridiculously cheap price, even though it was still in marvellous condition. All they had to do was to paint over the Abonyi coat of arms on the sides, and it looked as if it had been made for them. Maybe it was not sufficiently sturdy to be driven over any but the best-made roads, but it was so beautiful that that was a small price to pay.

A little self-importance was no doubt justified if one was a mature young man who regulated his life in such a clever and independent fashion! That was how Adam saw himself, and who was to say him nay?

These three carriages, the first to arrive, were driven at a slow walk round the meadow until, about fifteen minutes later, a cloud of dust announced a new arrival. It was the egregious ‘Uncle’ Ambrus Kendy who sat back against the cushions of his carriage with the youngest Alvinczy, Akos, beside him. Both were smoking large cigars with a lordly air. Next to the driver sat a footman carrying a large basket of flowers which Ambrus had brought for Adrienne. Women like such gestures, he thought, even when they bring no reward. Nevertheless it looked good for everyone to see that he courted that ‘darling woman’ in such a way. There was the impression, for all to see, that surely these public attentions were not in vain and though this was unfortunately not true, well, it did no harm to let people think differently.