The Diary of Geza Csath Page 8
‘Our walk took us to the bank of the Danube and
to the Modern Café. She ate grapes, I drank black coffee.’
way, I notice that Olga too prefers to imagine I have been unfaithful, and privately considers my summer of sacred chastity a sign of ineptitude.) From the café, we went back out to the bank of the Danube and Sz. told me of the onslaughts she had endured from her husband’s doctors at the baths. She boasted of having spent 12,000 forints; her room had cost 32 francs a day. Then she heaped compliments and confessions of love on me and finally declared that she loved me very much and thought of me constantly.
Now comes the unique, womanly swinishness. She treats her husband very well and patiently because she thereby has the right to love me without guilt, so to speak. She expiates the sin with her great patience and suffering, and with her vigils. It’s not the thought I find immoral, but rather the astounding and matter-of-fact ingenuity of the defence mechanism, her having hit upon this justification so easily. Before we said goodbye she shed a few tears. She said it hurt her very much that I didn’t kiss her at least once, but told me that in spite of all that, if I ever wanted to marry her, she would be willing to divorce her husband and [leave her] children at any time, and to come wherever I ordered her. In consolation, I paid her a few banal compliments and told her the lack of a kiss was purely her doing, because she had behaved coldly. This was not true, of course, since waiting was natural behaviour for her; but she believed it in the end and was consoled. I ran to the streetcar at the Ferenc Jozsef bridge while she departed toward Eskuter. From ten steps away, she called out to me: ‘Don’t get married!’ In spirit I was already with my little ‘Ham’, however, and the warning fell on deaf ears.
Olga was very kind to me. She was sweetly anxious when, with a few modifications, I explained the reason for my lateness. (The woman had invited me to the hotel to examine her husband.) There was no + because her father was home. (They were comparing some text with dictation and listening to Olga’s angelic voice as she gave her slightly schoolgirlish reading was a genuine delight for me.) We had an amusing time and today nothing disturbed our harmony. Now, in the evening, I ascertain that I have smoked twenty-four Egyptian cigarettes today. I hereby swear that tomorrow I will smoke only six.
T U E S D A Y 1 O C T O B E R
Short story writing at Olga’s, ‘The Champion’. + with anxiousness.
W E D N E S D A Y 2 O C T O B E R
Discovery of the ‘baccio granda stabilimento’. It is accompanied by wondrous pleasure. The origin of our invention was necessity. Their divan is well-worn, and when we embraced, our enjoyment was disturbed by the most improbable creakings. To avoid it, I thought of the new variation, which worked brilliantly. This was our 230th act of coitus.
3 D E C E M B E R 1 9 1 2
12.15 a.m. Today I begin a new era in my life. I must give up my M habit for good and relegate use of P to rare instances. In the last two days, there have been symptoms indicating that my system craves a serious increase in dosage. I must therefore put an end to the perilous game. This afternoon, ample and tempting pleasures slipped out of my hands irretrievably owing to my prodigality. In the afternoon I invited Olga for a walk. She had to change clothes. I opened her door. She stood in the middle of the room in new American shoes that came up high on her ankles, and a fresh shirt. I had never seen her this way before. She was adorable. I ran to her, and though the erection was greatly delayed by the brightness and the thought of the father coming home, we carried out tergo coitus equinus. The girl was marvellous, beautiful. My sexual pleasure, however, was imperfect, average – not the piercing and harsh ecstasy that would have been justified by the novelty of the situation. The cause was purely myself this time. I also recalled the unnecessary and silly .025 M employed at noon. See, you fool, if you hadn’t done it, you would now be enjoying divine ecstasy. It is an undeniable fact that in the sexual sphere, P does nowhere near as much harm as M.
They’ve just returned my rejected piece from Beothy. I bought a new box of King James27 . I heard that Elet28 published a piece of mine, earning me 60-80 crowns.
Now … for final renunciation of the poison. I feel it’s going to work. In the morning, I will awake with Gyula. I will take a bath. Quickly. We will have breakfast. One cigarette. Work. Work. Bath. A shave. Lunch. Defecation. Aspirin and Bromural. In the afternoon Olga + – +; 0.02 P between 4.00 and 6.00, just for another few days. From 6.00 to 8.00, career, work. Theatre. In the evening, theatre or writing here at home. The next week will unfold in this way. If I cannot do this, I will be lost.
27. Cigarettes.
28. Life (periodical)
Yesterday I almost completely succeeded in achieving what I wanted. In the morning, I did not use poison. By the afternoon, quite serious inanition manifested itself. This, however, I was able to vanquish. Finally O came. We spent a sweet afternoon, though twice during the first attaque and during each ejaculation demission took place, because of my too violent movements. Without a doubt, I have lost the habit of normal coitus, and the coitus equinus, which I carried out subsequently, actually gave me much greater pleasure. The reason for it is given by my Kama Sutra when it warns that for physical reasons it is advisable for the ‘elephant’ to take the ‘elephant cow’ in the same way the elephant does. After the coitus, the .02 P was sweet. Amidst lively chat, we walked home slowly, earlier than usual. In the evening, I went to Nagy Endre’s with Gyula and Sandor. The evening was beautiful and we had a wonderful time but I was nevertheless sad. I perceived that Olga did not feel as much sexual delight as heretofore. At first I accused her of having become indifferent towards me; then I realized I had become so towards her, and that this had led to her genuine and evident decreased sensitivity. This is all for the best, however. We haven’t yet tried this aspect of marriage. Yet it is the most important one. Now we will show each other what we are worth.
Woke at 9.00. Worked at the clinic until 11.00. 0.015 P then. Kalvin ter, rendezvous with Olga. Brilliant morning. A stroll along the bank of the Danube and downtown. Happy time spent together. The thought of our cooling toward each other no longer bothered me and with that, the cooling ceased to exist. Fever measurements. Reminiscences over events of two years ago. Slow preparation. A light meal. Olga + - Evening spent with Gyula Farkas, Sandor and E.B. I was honestly enthusiastic about the play. Sometimes I am taken by surprise by unpleasant thoughts, though without vasomotoric symptoms. I am getting old. Time is passing. Why can’t the love between Olga and I remain forever in honeymoon colours, as it has been up to now? The thought that other love must and will come is painful. For a moment, I would like to cry at the cruelty of nature. With Gy., we take E.B. home by coach, then drive ourselves home. I decided I would not contrive to reawaken love, but would let events take their own course. I would be happiest if love flared up again.
My poor, dear little Olga was so sweetly sad today. When she cries, I’d like to fall on my knees before her and smother her with kisses. She is sweet and disconsolate, she senses something is wrong. What should I do with this dear girl to make her very happy? If I had money now, a lot of money, a new situation or a trip would fix everything … This terribly deep and repeated expression of love is not right.
The ‘grande madame’ game of the last few days also hurt her. This is a love scene played by Olga, as the lady, and I, as the man paying court to her, at the expense of the absent husband (Pali). The lady defends herself at first, violently and disdainfully, but in the end she kisses frenziedly and sensually and admits she has long loved her attacker. Olga’s rendition of her role was astoundingly true to life. And yet it didn’t astonish me, or even hurt me. What must be done:
1 1. Suspension of coitus for three days.
12. Coitus every other day throughout December.
13. Much walking.
14. Trips to the dentist
15. Work on financial and theatrical matters.
16. Teaching of Olga in every area, with testing
.
17. Intensive milk and egg cure.
18. Cold water treatment of the sacral area and the perineum.
19. Arsycodile at my apartment.
10. Mercury face cream for Olga.
11. Discontinuation of the masochistic situations recently introduced by me. Placement of the head between the legs, etc.
12. Flagellation.
13. Jealousy to be completely denied and parodied instead.
14. Inducing of spiritual erection.
15. Examination of café behaviour. Now, when it doesn’t hurt.
16. Discontinuation of gifts.
17. Discontinuation of praise.
18. Transfer of the relationship to more spiritual grounds. (Books)
19. Fewer kisses.
20. Calm and slow, logical behavior.
21. A bit of rowdiness!
After saying goodbye, I was given cause for unpleasant forebodings: the horse of the only carriage waiting at the station was white. I did not take it. The coachman had already slammed the meter down. ‘I won’t get on,’ I said, ‘white horses bring bad luck.’ The coachman said nothing. He didn’t cajole and didn’t swear. He stayed mute as fate, as if he were saying, ‘Even if I’m not the one who takes you home, you won’t escape your destiny.’ Crossing the bridge on the way home, I met only white horses, practically speaking, all the way to Kalvin ter. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally encountered a brown horse pulling a coach displaying a favourable number. The sum of the numbers was 16. In gratitude, I gave the coachman a sizable tip, and he wished me a Happy New Year.
I went around the ward and was the first everywhere to write my name in the duty roster. Everything was quiet. The nurse was asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Only Count Kreith walked up and down in his drawers, with genial indifference. I wished him a Happy New Year and came upstairs. After a short defecation I gave myself .00 P [sic] then .01 M, which even together did not bring euphoria. Still, my colour is good enough. The reason for this is the daily vial of arsenic and the .0002-.0004 g. of strychnine. I have come to recognize the latter as a marvellous substance. After this let us see the balance sheet for the year.29
1 1. Coitus: around 360-380+
12. Income 7, 390 crowns
13. Publication of Schmidt, Brioche-maker
14. Publication of the German edition of Puccini
15. Publication of Pean
16. Procurement of (the job at) Stubnyafurdo
17. Ten different women obtained
18. Among them, two virgins
19. Publication of The Psychic Mechanism of Mental Illness
10. Play entitled The Horvaths
11. Trip to Vienna with Mrs O
29. Author’s italics
9 J A N U A R Y 1 9 1 3
It seems it was futile to reject the coach with the grey horse on New Year’s Eve – for me, misfortune, failure, and bad luck were waiting at the gate of the New Year. Within a few days I was forced to suffer a whole series of complex wounds. I can’t easily get over them.
1. In view of Winter’s imminent departure, I could have anticipated being named teacher’s assistant. Justifiably, because I have been at the clinic for two years longer than anyone else. And yet Moravcsik promised the job to Vertes, that talentless, colourless fellow.
In vain, then , was all the work, patience, the 600 crowns I sacrificed on the printing of my book, all the waking up early, all the galvanofaradization, boring rounds of visits trailing after the old man, trying to gain his favour, underhanded and despicable toadying, being friendly with his family, night house calls, writing case reports of a length no one at the clinic had ever equalled. In vain was the measurement of Olga Stern’s temperature for a year, devising of menus, electric bathing, the slave-like suffering of the trip to Cologne, duets with Tibor Moravcsik, all the hypnesia, the long and conscientious treatment of the Misses Klein, the psychogalvanic examinations, the histological efforts with Goldberger, which I carried out grinding my teeth, all the feeding, writing extracts of books for the Mental Health (department), all of it down the drain, useless.
I didn’t want the teacher’s assistant post, since I couldn’t have made a living from it, but Moravcsik passing me over without a word, with no excuse, is still unparalleled injustice, a vile, shifty, miserable thing, commensurate with his cruel, servile, sanctimonious character, his vengeful, oversensitive, unobjective, ignoble character. In all this, the only thing that consoles me is that some of the reasons for my being passed over are ones of which I can be proud.
1. Moravcsik is privately angry at me, and cannot forgive me for having had no desire to discover, see, or occupy myself with his cousin Erika, whom he secretly thought he would betroth to me.
2. He is envious of me, for despite my young age, I make a lot of money, have a large circle of acquaintances, and do not require his patronage.
3. He is envious of me because I live well and am successful with women, copulate a lot, and enjoy life, while at a similar age he was a miserable and wretchedly tormented servant of Laufenauer, going about in frayed trousers and unable even to dream of owning Persian rugs.
4. He doesn’t want anyone to obtain such a desirable post comme ça, effortlessly, without great perspiration and exertion.
5. He is vexed that I do not feel or demonstrate any dependence on him, I sometimes get up late for weeks, I do not parade myself before him or hang onto his coat-tails with the others. He is hurt that I have not reciprocated his sympathy and interest in me in an appropriate way.
If I think all this through, the thing doesn’t hurt at all. I am only vexed and embittered that there is no way to thwart this injustice. It cannot be done!
My vengeance will catch up with him, however. It will be noble revenge but he will suffer like a dog. I will dedicate a short novel to his Napoleonically conceived life, to the description of his character and the proper representation of the dirty work done at the clinic. This novel must awaken nationwide interest.
The other great complex injury to have affected me is that my play The Horvaths has now been rejected by a second forum, the Vigszinhaz.30 ‘It doesn’t meet our standards,’ said Miklos Faludi insolently. I knew the Vigszinhaz wouldn’t be wild about the piece. My having given it to them was based on the 3 in 100 (no more) chance that now, when they have few pieces and the press is hostile to them, they might do something sympathetic, something seemingly unselfish and literary. I was disappointed in this calculation, but that wasn’t what hurt. It was the director’s tone of voice. I sensed he didn’t consider me the kind of writer who could ever produce a piece that was right for them.
The third: my Puccini did not win the Greggus Prize. The fourth and most significant injury: the dashing of my hopes for a position at the Hercules spa. The job would have provided 10-12,000 crowns income by summer’s end. Only yesterday, Gajari promised to intervene on my behalf: he said he and the wife of the undersecretary of agriculture were childhood friends, so I could consider the appointment a certainty. Today at noon I was informed the position had already been filled.
30. Comedy Theatre.
Thus did I receive several slaps in the face from fate. Only Olga consoles me in my troubles and vicissitudes – that is, she would console me if I didn’t always feel guilty in her presence on account of the poison, and didn’t worry about her future faithfulness. Often, I am seized by the ominous presentiment that my marriage to the woman will not be happy, that she will be a nasty disappointment to me, while today I find her kind, patient, and sweet.
For the second time, I console myself that these are just natural jitters before exams, unavoidable thoughts of the worst that can happen, failure.
Last night I had a horrible dream. I had to take part in a skating race, but on a bicycle course (that was the track, as it were), and I couldn’t, the skate (penia) was short; a terrible feeling, the ice melted and I stumbled through the mud, fell onto my stomach, while Aunt Lujza (who perhaps thought the most o
f my talent from the beginning!) cheered me on anxiously. A little girl also took part in the race (it was her skate I had to strap on), but she had an easy time because she was pulled along by a rope attached to her waist.
It doesn’t matter!
I mustn’t hang my head. I trust in my talent, and with perseverance I will achieve results. I have no intention today of compromising or abandoning my hopes (of the possibility of a comfortable, beautiful, and wealthy life). I will begin again ten times and one hundred times and – if I must – a thousand times. I must not lose sight of the goal. I must look toward it. I still see it before me: worldwide literary success, an easy and remunerative position as a doctor at a spa, in a beautiful hotel with a terrace, white tennis shoes, a good cigar, a fine bedroom, an incredibly elegant office, books, refined literary work – without excessive diligence – but making continuous progress, music, around 35 my first opera or pantomime with full symphonic apparatus, Munich, Paris, travels, German premieres for my plays, later children, one or two – all the happiness which at this moment, when I am slightly nauseous in consequence of today’s high dosage (3.2 cgm M+ 3.8 cm Pantop.) seems unreachable.
You must not be impatient, young man. Last year at this time, how much worse was your situation? Two years ago, what a miserable state you were in sexually. Three years ago, how much more problematic was the health complex! Today – the health complex has healed, the evil infectious granuloma no longer threatens. The psychological impotence has dissolved. You’ve shown that you are still capable of a grand career. You are able to earn money. Your financial affairs have become ordered enough. Why do you want everything right away? Why do you want to obtain every complex happiness for yourself simultaneously? Wait your turn patiently, industriously, and enjoy the struggle itself, which is beautiful and – this is not a kind of compromise – represents the essence of life itself.