The Diary of Geza Csath Read online

  The French Miss, A. Laplace, a bird-bodied, big-eyed Parisian girl with a prematurely aged look, came to me for facial treatment. With vibrational massage, I succeeded in smoothing out a few wrinkles. From the beginning, her behaviour was imbecilic and unambiguous. She frequently asked me, in Hungarian and French, why I didn’t love her, insulting and disparaging the girls and women she had seen with me. Margit N., the old maid of 32-34, awakened her disgust especially; she regaled me with gossip about Margit N.’s great love for me, her clumsy and exaggerated yearning. Dora J. and A. Laplace amused me with these things; I had some good laughs at the outright malice with which they attempted to belittle that poor ugly girl in my eyes. They imitated her glances, her gestures, her embarrassment and her behaviour when they affronted and vexed her with innuendoes.

  That poor, stalwart and well-educated girl was the daughter of a former minister, and the cousin of Frigyes Koranyi. Completely alone in the world, she had been coming to the baths for years, chiefly to enjoy the friendship of the Erdelyis, who took her in and supported her. Having heard that she could play the piano well, I recommended her to Pardy, the director of the college, who wanted to organize a concert. The invitation was extended. I played Wagner’s Emperor March with her four-handed and she accompanied my violin playing. During the rehearsals, I noticed the girl’s behaviour was unpleasant, nervous, and that she had become shy. I began to avoid her because I was horrified of the thought of causing this unfortunate orphaned creature suffering. It was no good. It was even worse than that. She sought out my company, invited me to play the piano or go walking, and I frequently could find no way to escape having dinner with her.

  This led to the problem of her wanting dinners together to be the rule. She watched me from her window to see when I went to the dining hall, and my tactic of eating supper very late – just so that I could be alone and in peace – this too was a failure. The affair became increasingly miserable. The whole group – the Erdelyis, Jozsef Szabo – made fun of her, which must have been double torture for such an intelligent and reticent old maid. During one evening walk, she shepherded the conversation towards the subject of love, and I felt a cold shiver at the thought that she was about to make some kind of confession. It did not happen, but I was careful afterwards not to join the group at night if she was with them. One day she appeared at my office in an excited state. It should be noted that she had made insinuations several times about wanting to have herself examined. I hadn’t said a word or invited her to my office. Now she came anyway. I wanted to cry over the cruel whims of fate which produced such impossible situations. She complained that for several nights she had slept not even an hour. I examined her – oh, how pitiful her fine ribboned shirt was! – I ordered half-baths14 and tranquillizers. After a week, she signalled that she was better. I suspected early Basedow, however, and ordered precise measurement of the neck weekly. During her last check-up, she invited me to visit her. She sent me several postcards during my stay at the baths. The whole company went to see her off and I had to go too, for they had made a point of asking me. I did not, however, want to take part

  14. cold baths.

  in ridiculing her, and so did not take the advice of the vivacious but malevolent general’s widow, Mrs Zsoldos, who suggested that presenting Margit N. with a bouquet of flowers would be quite the thing for me to do.

  An unusual case occurred on the last day of August. Mrs B, the vacationing aunt of a doctor from Teschen, came to see me for a check-up. She was a rotund, hunchbacked woman with pretty buttocks, pink skin on her face, fine features, grey hair and tiny ivory-white hands. Her entire being was flirtatious, assured, kind, and sexual. Despite her 52 years she was attractive and arousing, a widow with seven grown children, spiritually still fresh, with a lively appetite for life, and without self-pity on account of her bodily defect. This was natural, as she was loved, and thoroughly at that (seven!), and she could not see her hunched back unless she used a double mirror. (How can we explain the lively wits, will to live, and good nerves of hunchbacks? I believe it is the excellent circulation of blood to the spine and brain.) After just a few minutes, under the effect of the woman’s provocative smile, a faint excitement began to take hold of my nerves. We spoke. She mentioned her grown-up son, a first lieutenant in the chiefs of staff. Then I examined her. I made her lie down on the couch. She smiled. Between her full, pretty, blood-red lips, her beautiful porcelain-white teeth sparkled. I took her hand and suddenly started kissing it. Smiling calmly, she watched. In a state of strong excitement, I continued the kissing until I reached the finely shaped arc of her elbow. Then I suddenly bent down and kissed her lips. I glued myself onto them for a long time. She blushed. I covered her cheeks, her forehead, and her shapely jawline with insatiable kisses. She suddenly started laughing. She laughed at me. She pushed me away.

  ‘Aber Herr Doktor, was machen Sie, einem solchen alten Weiss?’

  ‘Sie sund nicht alt, Gnädige, verzeichen Sie wegen meine Freiheit, aber ich bin entzückt von ihrer Schönheit und Reiz und von ihrer Jugend! Verdannen Sie mich nicht. Ich fühle nur eine unendliche Ehre gegen Sie!’15 (It’s queer that my knowledge of German always triples in such situations.)

  She sat up and allowed me to continue kissing her hands, but then she laughed again. Her laughter was not chiming, but distorted:

  ‘Hee-hee-hee, heeheehee.’

  That cooled me down. I sat down. We talked of inconsequential matters for a few minutes more. But I did not accept money from her. Anyway, she wasn’t with me long. It wasn’t her touch of rheumatism that brought her to the baths, she was just on holiday. Her group left the next day. But the night before, on the Promenade, I won a kind and slightly ironic goodbye smile from her. I would have liked to convince her of my tender feelings for her, but cruel nature, which limits the possibility of sexual enjoyment for women to precise time periods, deprived me of this special pleasure.

  In midsummer a blue-eyed woman in mourning came to my office (with her husband). I later found out Mrs B was born a H…szky girl. She was one of the most brazen hysterics at the baths. Her face and body could have been called decidedly attractive, but her voice, manner of speaking, and intellect spoiled the effect. I received daily visits from her. She behaved provocatively from the start, complimented me, spoke of her intimate affairs. Her husband, a nervous and stupid Slovakian merchant, was exceptionally possessive of her and frequently wrote her long, jealous letters. In one of them, he wrote his whole life story in hopes of swaying the lady. The letter was quite pitiful yet still interesting. What I learned from it is that love increases to an incredible degree the expressive powers of even a person of low intelligence. The woman translated the letter for me and had some good laughs as she did so; I was in no doubt about the effect she wanted to achieve. She wanted to inhibit me from honestly feeling sorry for her husband and giving up my attack on her. Little could she guess that all her wiles were in vain because my heart was completely taken.

  She stayed at the baths almost six weeks. Zelma and she were on friendly terms, and while the former was at the baths, she didn’t try anything. Later, however, she frequently called, inviting me to her room during her hysterical fits, making even the chambermaids laugh at her. This woman had no fewer than five daughters, who frequently wrote her kind letters in spidery handwriting, called her ‘dear mamakins’, and were manifestly very attached to her. I didn’t understand the woman’s problem – she spoke of her lack of fulfilment and dissatisfaction in marriage as an excuse for her behaviour. But after all, siring five children is no small matter, and doesn’t exactly demonstrate impotence. No matter. I felt no inclination to relieve the woman’s unhappiness. Only rarely, when I examined her on the folding table and she was without corset and skirt, panting, with eyes covered in tears, looking at me almost pleadingly, it crossed my mind that I might take pity on her. But this was only a thought; no feeling accompanied it, because at these times my little Olga also came to mind. Now, far away in sweltering Bu
dapest, in a curtained thirdfloor room, she was thinking of me, with sadness, sweetness, and loyalty. All alone she was moving about, coming and going, perhaps with a weak headache caused by longing and the heat. At these times I was further away than ever from violating the promise I made to her.Though I never appeared with Mrs B in public at the baths, quite a few people believed she was my lover. Perhaps the rumour originated with women like Mrs Ilancsy, who sat on the terrace of the restaurant, watch in hand, noting who visited my office and for how long. Mrs B often did stay a long time. She arranged things so that she would be my last appointment of the morning, so there would be no need to rush. She often sent delicacies from her husband’s store – cheeses, candied fruits, honey, gin – which I never consumed, however. I felt a kind of revulsion for her offerings, and gave everything to the doorman and the chambermaids. In contrast, with what divine enjoyment and gluttony did I consume the fine fruits my little Olga sent me.

  15. „But Doctor, what are you doing with someone so old?“ „You are not old, Madame, excuse the liberty I take, I am charmed by your beauty and overwhelmed by your youthfulness! Do not condemn me! I feel an infinite respect for you!“

  “far away in sweltering Budapest... she was thinking of me.” Good advice:

  1. Don’t forget, if coitus is not possible: there is still opportunity for O.C.,16 frotte, cunnilingus, coitus in anum, fellatio.

  2. We must have doubts about succeeding, but behave as if we had no doubt whatsoever.

  3. It must not be forgotten that bromine, the barber, bathing, clean linen, heart-washes17, enemas, nose-washes, alcohol, etc. are tools which can be of much help in a difficult situation.

  4. If we can no longer control ourselves: let us take an additional 1 gr. of bromine and wait half an hour, lying down.

  5. Counting slow, deep, even breaths while lying horizontally affords self-control.

  6. Fortification of the will is great work, and produces joy, but …

  16. Obverso Corpore, known in the vernacular as 69 17. probably cold water applied externally

  1 9 S E P T E M B E R 1 9 1 2

  I want to write down in detail the hard day I had today. I dislike the number 19. From now on I must arrange things so that if possible I need not leave the house on this day.

  I woke at 9.00 and injected .012 P, then lay back down in bed. Euphoria did not come. I drank coffee without appetite and my cigarette did not taste good. I went down to the ward and started speaking to Somlyo, the paralysed ex-husband of Elza Szamosi. His disjointed chatter was sympathetic. He told me pleasant and frivolous anecdotes about his sexual life. The story of his last coitus was harrowing. He arrived home from a night of revelry at the Feszek18 and started to bang his wife, then digustedly pulled out his penis. He already knew his wife was unfaithful.

  I wanted to take the opportunity to go and have a look at the big […] that an antique dealer was selling. The doorman rang, however, and signalled that our master required our presence for his first lecture. There was no alternative. We had to listen to the whole lecture, which lasted two hours and was completely devoid of interest and colour. There wasn’t a single interesting point, clever pedagogical approach, well-articulated phrase, pause, or talented gesture anywhere. Long sentences, sentences left unfinished and started again, etc. I had a feeling of great fatigue. Then the doorman announced Sassy, my friend the painter, was waiting for me. He had brought a carpet expert with him, as I had requested the day before. They looked over the carpets at my place and made an appraisal; conversing with them was so tiresome I had difficulty being polite.

  18. Feszek Klub, a venerable restaurant and club for artists in Budapest’s Seventh District.

  I was called to the telephone. Harmos19 was on the line and asked for a rendezvous. I gave her one: Kalvin ter at 2.15. I thought she could accompany me to Olga’s and we could talk on the way. I had lunch. The meal felt good, but I made a mistake in not pausing between each course. The cigarette afterwards again provided no enjoyment. Bozsi interrupted me in it as well. The girl came up to see me ebullient in colour and mood. The effect of Monday’s IP no. 5 was visible. She said herself that she was much the better for it, and asked for another injection. I gave her the same dose; her temperature of 37.5 C led me to opt for caution. She asked for my portrait. I gave it to her. We went to Kalvin ter together, and I accompanied her a bit further into Kecskemeti utca. Returning to Kalvin ter, I didn’t see Harmos anywhere, so I went into the Bathory Café and bought a box of Luxors. I was saddened by the pretty German hostess, who, while quite kind, was not nearly as friendly as I was to her. It even occurred to me that Harmos put Desiré20 on the phone so she could boast that I had wanted to meet her. Reading the Est21, I took a coach and, with considerable appetite for P, I hurried up to Olga’s flat. I

  19. Ilona Harmos, wife of Dezso Kosztolanyi.

  20. Csath’s nickname for Dezso Kosztolanyi.

  21. The Evening (newspaper)

  Illustration by Attila Sassy (Aiglon)

  found her little brother home and the windows open wide. I was disconsolate.

  We chatted. Olga’s beauty, purity, and shapeliness aroused me, and not being able to satisfy my passion, I had to pace up and down in the room to calm down. I injected .045 P, but euphoria again did not come. She made a snack. In the meanwhile I gave her a lesson in ethics on account of a lie [she had told], making her sulky and angry with me.

  Even so, I found her sweet and adorable. After the light meal I left quickly, prompted by the little brother’s lack of resolve to do the same. I wanted to visit Moravcsik. He wasn’t home. I went over to Jozsi Szabo’s, who was included in the agenda because he lived nearby. He wasn’t home either. In the chilly, beautiful evening, I started walking downtown with the intention of doing some shopping. First, however, I made my way to the Harmonia to pay for my piano. The new upright had been shipped two days earlier, and the way things stood I was able to pay the entire price easily. Conferring with Kohn, the piano dealer, I was sad to discover that the upright piano Harmonia sold me for 840 crowns actually cost 700. But then I calculated two years’ interest on 700 crowns is actually 140 crowns, and I had been leasing a piano from Harmonia for that long. So I wasn’t making a completely bad deal. Another problem emerged. While I had actually repaid 270 crowns, the manager’s books indicated only […] had been credited to my account. I was irritated by the sweet-talking corpulent fellow, who acted like my friend and admirer and meanwhile tried to swindle me as if I were a country landowner. I left, promising to bring in my receipts. Going all the way down

  Harmos was on the line and asked for a rendezvous.

  Vaczi utca, the multitude of well-dressed people put me in a bad mood. I saw that there were gentlemen in Budapest better dressed than I, whereas I should have liked to consider myself pre-eminent in that regard. To make matters worse, I ran into Laci, Olga’s little brother. He probably left home shortly after I did – in other words, after the unsuccessful visits to Moravcsik and Szabo it would have been best to go back to Olga’s and make a sacrifice to Amor! While I mulled that over, I bought a book, the musical writings of E. T. A. Hoffman, which had caught my attention in the shop window. Then, providing myself with the latest issue of A Nap22, I dropped into the Gerbeaud for a little pastry. Unfortunately, the first person I saw was Pal Farkas, that disgusting toady who is living proof that money rules over everything in the world. Against it, even our selfesteem is not sufficient counterweight, for how can we esteem ourselves if we want money and cannot get it? In the Gerbeaud’s water closet, another .012 P consoled me. I slapped on my monocle, but didn’t feel at ease in the smoking room; extravagantly dressed women provoked my envy and anger, as did an impeccably dressed, fat humanities student who looked like a 90-kilogram Daniel Job. I ate my pastries and smoked a Gianadis while reading the ‘Nap’. I did not feel comfortable. Next, I went into a carpet shop on Gizella ter. There I found a blue Halina cloth rug I wanted to use to cover the whole floor of my room. It was s
o expensive I left the store utterly dejected. Covering the floor would have cost 120-140 crowns. In order to have done a prudent bit of business

  22. The Day (newspaper)

  nevertheless, I went into the Keleti Café and paid 100 crowns on my tab. That calmed me somewhat. I started homeward.

  I trudged along the crowded street, interested in nothing, seething at the wealthy passers-by and ashamed of my poor circumstances – only 1,200 crowns left to my name by then. I reflected on the uncertainty of my earnings for the winter and on whether I would succeed in obtaining three months’ severance pay from A Vilag23 (if I had to leave). I would have liked to buy pens to salvage the evening, but I was unable to do so. In the vicinity of Kossuth utca, on Muzeum korut24 there was only one stationery store, and its selection of pens was scandalously small. I did not find the desired writing implement. Thus, without a pen, I boarded the tram, not wanting to risk having to gape at the ‘Full’ sign at Ulloi ut. – The tram advanced slowly. The prettier women sitting inside showed no inclination to notice me. I laughted at my vanity, but it is a fact that success of that sort would have helped my difficult situation then. I got off at the clinic. I bought shoe polish, string, and green peppers. At home, the doorman told me a German-speaking woman had called me twice on the telephone. I worried that Mama G. was in Pest and would look me up. ‘See?’ I said to myself, ‘Now you’ll have to reap what you’ve sown.’

  In the doctors’ dining hall, a lively and unsympathetic colleague played billiards. Millasin reminded me of Janosi, his essential stupidity made me envious. I ate supper, but had no wine. Gyula had drunk it all and hadn’t sent for

  23. The World (a periodical for which Csath wrote at the time). 24. Museum Ring Road