Péter Nádas - Parallel Stories

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 exaggerated 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.