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BOX-FOLDER-REPORT: 33-2-114
TITLE:             New Dery Novel Alludes to Stalinist Show Trials
BY:                
DATE:              1965-6-16
COUNTRY:           Hungary
ORIGINAL SUBJECT:  Hungarian Unit
THEMATIC SUBJECTS: Hungary--1956-1965, Hungary--Literature, Dissenters

--- Begin ---

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HUNGARY
16 June 1965

NEW DERY NOVEL ALLUDES TO STALINIST SHOW TRIALS

At the age of 70, Tibor Dery, [1] one of the most
outstanding Hungarian writers has produced a new novel called The
Excommunicator. This has not yet appeared in book form but three chapters
of it have been published in the March, April and May 1965 issues
of Kortars, the Hungarian Writers Association monthly.

Dery's last novel, Mr. G.A. in X., was written in
prison. Excerpts from this utopian work were published in Uj
Iras at the end of 1963. The book itself was published in the
following year. The novel deals with the problem of freedom and
order. In the mysterious city of X, Mr. G.A. finds a society
which lives and works under the spell of freedom and
irresponsibility, which leaves projects incomplete and allows everything
to perish. With their singular philosophy, the inhabitants of
the mysterious city find pleasure in enduring unpleasantnesses.
The rich ruling class of the city is an object of pity. In this
society, too, there are trials and prisons, but the judges are
selected from among the prisoners and they talk submissively to
the accused. Here it is an honor to be accused, Mr. G.A. joins
this society, finds a mistress, but is unable to grow accustomed
to the place. At an advanced age, he escapes back to his former
life, back to the distorted world of traditional lies and of
omnipotent money.

Dery's novel was strongly condemned by Communist critics
although they admitted that Mr. G.A. in X "marks a new and unexpected
stage in Dery's progress as a writer. . . and that the novel is one
of the most remarkable pieces of Hungarian fiction to appear in
recent years." [2]

----------------

(1) Biography of Tibor Dery, Background Report, Hungarian
Unit, 20.9.1962.

(2) The New Hungarian Quarterly, Spring 1965, No.17.

[page 2]

Dery's new work, The Excommunicator, which appears,
from the brief excerpts thus far available, to continue in the
vein begun by Mr. G.A. in X, is a historical novel which takes
place in the Fourth Century A.D. and is based on events in the
life of Saint Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, and one of the great
teachers of the early Christian church. [3]

It is clear from the excerpts which have been published
that the character of the novel is anti-clerical. Another
interesting feature of the work is its symbolism. During the course of the
description of a trial, the "accursed accused" asks "to be burned
at the stake" as well as for "a horrible death by torture." The
accused not only praises "his merciful judges," but also "his
pious torturer" ("God bless him!") who puts him to the torture
and who grows tired of the "understandably boring" and
"soul-killing work" of interrogation. The sarcastic tone used in the
description of the trial recalls the memory of tramped-up Communist
trials, particularly that of Laszlo Rajk.

Another part of the novel deals with the Synod of Aquilea,
convoked with the purpose of restoring the unity of the church.
The persons invited to the council are cunningly selected. Of
the many hundred "Church dignitaries, only 30 are present, from
the north Italian and Illyrian "faction" (sic!) as well as some
African, south Italian and Gallic "sympathizers." The bishops
of Eastern dioceses are missing. The Synod denounces and
excommunicates Palladius and Secundianus, two Arian bishops. It is
characteristic of the spirit of agreement prevailing among the
cunningly selected members of the council that, following the
speech of the Bishop of Milan, "they would have started
rhythmically applauding were this to be reconciled with propriety."

It would appear that the strife and "factionalism"
within the Church, as described by Dery, symbolizes the struggle
in the world ruled by Communist creed.

A brief summary of the first three chapters of the
novel follows.

Bishop Ambrose, noted as an ascetic who practices
charity and performs miracles, has cleared the major part of Milan
of the Arian heretics and has had their churches confiscated. One
of the protectors of the heretics, the Dowager Empress Justina,
living in Bregetio, in Pannonia -- today Hungarian territory --

------------------

(3) As is the case with many literary works based on historical
backgrounds, Dery's new book takes some liberties with
historical fact.

[page 3]

summons Bishop Ambrose to persuade him, through intrigues and
threats, to return one of the churches of Milan to the Arians.
The bishop remains adamant. On his way back to Milan, he meets
Arians from Illyria seeking refuge from the Visigoths. The bishop
allows them to set up camp outside Milan, buys them food with
money obtained through the sale of church treasures and even pays
ransom for their relatives enslaved by the Barbarians. Then the
Arian bishop of Sirtnium (Mitrovica in today's Yugoslavia) dies.
The church dignitaries of the Danube provinces call a meeting in
Sirmium, one of the centers of the Arian heresy, to elect a new
bishop. The Bishop of Milan also attends the meeting and, through
his good offices, a Catholic is elected to the vacant seat. During
his absence from Milan, the Arians accuse Ambrose of having
squandered the treasures of the church and take back one of the
Milan churches from the Catholics by force. On his return to
Milan, Bishop Ambrose publicly denounces the East Roman Emperor
Julian Valens, who is also an Arian bishop and demands from the
Emperor Gratian that the church taken away from the Catholics be
returned to them. The Emperor does not wish to offend either his
stepmother Justina, or her son, the joint Emperor Valentinian II,
and, therefore, takes away the church from the Arians, but, instead
of returning it immediately to the Catholics, has it occupied for
six months.

At Justina's initiative, two attempts are made on the
life of Bishop Ambrose, both unsuccessful. The first conspirator
fully confesses his crime at the ensuing trial and discloses the
name of the instigator. The bishop finally decides to liquidate
all the Arians. In this endeavor, he gets support from Gratian,
joint Emperor of the West Roman Empire as well as from Theodosius,
the Great Emperor of the East Roman Empire. The edict of tolerance
published in Sirmium is withdrawn and in Byzantium, the seat of
the East Roman Empire, the Arian churches are confiscated. The
Ecumenical Council of Constantinople expells from the Church "every
kind of accursed faction."

The list of participants at the Synod of Aquilea is drawn
up by Bishop Ambrose with cunning purpose. Church dignitaries who
might have stood up for the Arians are not invited. Exception is
made in the case of the Arians Palladius and Secundianus, both of
whom are excommunicated by the council.

The excerpts below was taken from the chapter published
in the April 1965 number of Kortars. It describes the court trial
of Innocentus, one of the men who conspired against the life of
Bishop Ambrose. This excerpt recalls to mind some of the absurdities
which occurred during the course of recent Communist show trials.
It is quite likely that the court trial, described by Dery with
bitter sarcasm and biting irony, is designed to symbolize these
trials.

[page 4]

Judge: Bring out the accursed prisoner!

Innocentus: fettered and chained, is brought into the
judgment chamber by armed jailers and made to stand before the
dais, on which, on either side of the judge, sits an assessor. In
accordance with legal practice, the trial starts at midnight,
and only members of the tribunal and of the imperial
constabulary may participate, by the light of nine candles, each of two
pounds weight.

Judge: I direct that, for the duration of the trial,
the heavy fetters and chains be unfastened from the accursed
prisoner.

Innocentus: O merciful and righteous judge, I crave
permission to keep on me, for the duration of the trial, the
heavy chains and fetters fastened, plainly at God's decree, about
my ankles, wrists and neck, to curb my wicked body and mind.

Judge: We shall graciously comply with the accursed
prisoner's wish. What is your name and occupation?

Innocentus: Innocentus, sorcerer. I was born -- would
that I had never been -- in the year of our Lord Jesus Christ three
hundred and thirty in Rome, as the first-born son of pagan parents,
to the injury and vexation of mankind.

Judge: Shall I state the charge? Or shall we hear it
from the fetid, lying mouth of the accursed prisoner, for the sake
of greater authenticity?

Innocentus: I shall confirm with my own fetid, lying
mouth that every word of the charge is true, nay, truer than true,
for it relates only an insignificant fragment of my guilt, and out
of decency, is silent on by far the greater part. I shall not
scandalize you too much with it, for who could bear to hear at one
sitting the detailed description of so many wicked deeds!

Judge: Do I understand that you withdraw your earlier,
lying confession? The law lays down that even the most
contemptible prisoner has that right.

Innocentus (shouting): Did I not say that, in the entire
Roman Empire, including the Eastern Empire, too, there is no
other judge so merciful as he who at this moment weighs my
miserable fate in his long-fingered, white hands. I do not wish
to withdraw, but to amplify the partial confession I made on the
rack, rightly described in the gracious words from the Bench as

[page 5]

lying, for it is but a limited part of infinite truth,
indicating only the visible part of the invisible, and is thus, in the
final analysis, imperfect, like every work of man.

Judge: Let the accursed prisoner return to the subject
at hand.

Innocentus: With humble heart then, and contrite
repentance, I admit that, in my unimaginably corrupt youth, I studied
with great diligence, among the best Persian masters of the period,
the skills of a sorcerer and magician, forbidden by the law,
including chiromancy, divination by the stars, the interpretation
of drams, the evocation of incubi and succubi and the other evil
spirits, nay, even the arch fiend. . .

Judge: The accursed prisoner must not repeat, but only
amplify his confession.

Innocentus: And I obey, of course, nor would it occur
to me to protest. So, when I was stretched on the rack, my pious
torturer -- God bless him I -- having given me a last stretch and
tiring in his understandably tedious and soul-destroying work,
declared the interrogation concluded and thus arrested the course
of my bellowing confession, there were still so many sins burdening
my soul that the Tiber could have been dammed with them. The
attention of the Prosecution was unfortunately not given to these,
which fact I ascribe to the tedious and revolting monotony of my
heinous crimes. For this reason -- out of concern for the nerves
of my gracious judges -- I will select from among them only one
particularly vile and diverting case, namely my bold attempt to. . .
I dare not let it pass my lips.

Judge: Why does the accursed prisoner not dare to let
it pass his fetid lips?

Innocentus: O distinguished judges! Now that my pious
torturer and his assistants have encouraged and helped me to spew
up all, or at least approximately all my infamies, I feel that my
soul has been in part purified and that part of my sense of shame
has returned. Never has a criminal so repented his crimes -- or
at least seldom. I deserve a frightful death by torture, perhaps
by burning at the stake, just for that one failed attempt of mine
that I mentioned, the description of which I dare not allow to pass
my fetid lips.

Judge: The accursed prisoner must overcome his newly
acquired sense of shame and complete his confession.

[page 6]

Assessor: And at the same time cease trying, with his
flagrant remorse and contrition, to influence and corrupt the
Court. Nor must he nourish hope of a spectacular death by burning
at the stake, for that is a privilege of the holy martyrs.

Innocentus: Kay I then dare to let it pass out of my
fetid, bog-like mouth and over my filthy tongue?. . . Thank you
That crime of mine, to which I have referred, more odious than
any other hitherto, was my attempt -- thank God, it did not
succeed -- directed against the saintly Bishop of Milan, Ambrose,
famous for his piety, the great leader of Christianity and the
Church, an attempt, with the aid of wicked spirits, to do away
with him, in plain Latin, to liquidate him. Thank God, it did not
come off! Distinguished judges, words fail me, my limbs tremble,
but it would be a mistake to attribute that to the rancor
felt by my racked and tortured body. My agitation is caused by
the belated stirring and beating of my miry conscience, I feel a
little unwell.

Judge: Would you like a glass of water?
Innocentus: I do not deserve it, God bless your
lordships.

Judge: If you should wish to sit down, I will have your
heavy chains and fetters removed.

Innocentus: I do not deserve it, God bless your
lordships!

Assessor: I warn the accused again that he must not
slobber round the incorruptible Bench with his crawling admissions
of guilt. His contrite admission is, it is true, mitigating
circumstance, but I warn him to respect the good taste of the
Bench and the limits of what their nerves will stand.

Innocentus: My lord assessor, I heed the warning. What
else could I do? I also know, if you will permit me to say so,
that subjective truth is independent of objective truth, chiefly,
of course, in disturbed historical periods, but probably at other
times, too, and I must adapt myself to that, both in the clear
formulation of my confession, and in its humble ideological content.
Am I wrong in so doing?

Judge: The accursed prisoner is to proceed with his
confession.

Innocentus: I climbed, then, on to the roof of the old

[page 7]

basilica in Milan, and from there, having made a sacrificial fire,
I stirred up the people, with my bloodthirsty mouth, against their
saintly bishop.

Assessor: One moment! What proofs can you offer to
substantiate your self-incrimination?

Innocentus: If my lord assessor would climb up on to
the roof of the church, he would find there the dead brands and
charcoal, perhaps even the fine grey ash of the speech with which
I stirred up the people. For even the most glowing fire turns
in time, in my experience, into dead embers, cinders and ash.

Judge: Usher, support the accursed, staggering prisoner,
and give him a drink of water.

Innocentus: Yet it seemed to me that the more
pertinaciously and circumspectly I practiced my verbal wickedness, the more
faithfully did the people cling to the Lord's priest. And so, I
called in devils to kill him, in plain speech, to liquidate him --
what else could I do?

Judge: Devils or evil spirits?

Innocentus: My lords, merciful judges, it is difficult
to distinguish between them. For when we call them up, now it is
the former who appear in the form of the latter, now the latter in
the form of the former, and at times even the most experienced
Persian masters scratch their heads in astonishment, completely
unable to establish their deceptive identity. Contrary to the
popular belief, not even the smell of sulphur supposed to be left
behind by devils, is a reassuring proof, for evil spirits are also
able, when occasion arises, to develop an infernal stench around
them, and even the fine, cultivated nose of the Persian masters
is not always able to distinguish between the inhuman smells and
stenches. It is, incidentally, difficult to find one's way about
in the comic hierarchy of the underworld. For there are wicked
spirits which are more powerful than a devil of the lower ranks,
yet which are incapable of spreading such an authentic stink,
while on the other hand. . .

Jude: The accursed prisoner must return to the subject
in hand.

Innocentus: called in, therefore, a few devils or
evil spirits -- three or four in number -- and entrusted to them
the task I have referred to, the name and character of which I had
rather not allow to pass my filthy tongue.

[page 8]

Judge: That is to say, you accursed creature, you
entrusted to them the task of doing away with. . .

Innocentus: With Ambrose, the saintly, pious Bishop of
Milan, the great leader of Christendom, the radiant lamb of the
Church, the Cornerstone of the True Faith and its Gothic Tower,
dripping honey. . . Oh, I shall collapse under the frightful burden
of my sin!

Judge: Confess! Unburden your soul, accursed creature!

Innocentus: That is what I am attempting, with the
kind permission of the distinguished Court, though I fear results
are lacking for see! I am sinking under the awful burden of my sin,
which I am beginning to see in its true light only now, now that my
soul is partly purified and my sense of shame is part restored.
God be praised that my attempted outrage, as you know, did not
succeed. The devils or wicked spirits I sent to work my will came
back in tears.

Assessor: Come now, in tears?

Judge: What was the matter with them?

Innocentus: Not only were they unable to approach the
saintly bishop, they could not even get near the door of his house
for the entire building was surrounded by impenetrable fire, which
could be felt, singeing and burning even from a great distance.
Indeed, it scorched my little devils: they showed me their singed
claws and hooves.

Judge: What evidence does the accursed prisoner offer to
prove that, in this instance, he is telling the truth, even without
being tortured?

Innocentus: O merciful, pious judge, who would dare to
doubt the truth of the words with which I damn myself? For I am
not denying my guilt, as the accused usually do, but
acknowledging the sin, with my face burning with shame, a sin not exceeded in
wickedness in the whole earth, even by Judas Iscariot, the son of
Simon: not only would I not deny it, but I am ready to betray
even my most secret thoughts. For I do not deny it, my lords.

Judge: Accursed prisoner, will you list your proofs?

Innocentus. In my bedroom, hidden under my pillow, I
keep a sadly singed and scorched hoof, which one of the little
devils cast off in his pain.

[page 9]

Judge: Usher, send a strongly built and bold-hearted
courier to the house of the accursed prisoner to bring back, from
beneath the pillow in the bedroom, the evidence of guilt referred
to, well wrapped up in an oiled cloth, lest he burn his fingers.

Assessor: Prisoner, we shall have the exhibit examined
by a veterinary surgeon, In the meantime, name the instigator
of this crime, at whose order you incited devils and wicked
spirits to do away with the saintly Bishop of Milan, the finest
ornament and jewel of our Holy Christian Mother Church!

Innocentus: Oh, I cannot, my pious Lords, I cannot name
that person.

Judge: Accursed prisoner, it is not your trifling person
we seek, for what a worthless speck of dust you are compared with
the immeasurable power of the Lord! Name your powerful instigator,
in whose service you stand with your foul army of devils and
wicked spirits.

Assessor: Prisoner, name the instigator who, through
you and in you, has designs on the life of the pious Ambrose,
the leader of our Church.

Innocentus: Woe is me, triple woe, I cannot name him.
Judge: Usher, call in the torturer with his instruments
and assistants -- bring them at the run!

Innocentus: Oh on! oh no! My judges, my fathers, I
would rather name the instigator who, through me and in me, has
designs on the life of the great Bishop of Milan, the Prince of
our Church. Yes, I will name him.

Judge: Accursed prisoner, unburden your soul! Who is your
instigator?

Innocentus: O gracious and upright judges, I will name
him, however difficult it is for me, I confess and confirm with this
tongue of mine, tortured on the rack, and though thereby my crime
and my responsibility immeasurably grow, and though it can be
foreseen that I shall sink and stagger the more under the weight of
it, I confess that my only instigator and inciter was my own
infinitely wicked nature, which in its envy would not tolerate. . .

Judge: Usher, bring in the torturer with his instruments!

Innocentus: Oh no! oh no! I will name him, I will
confess.

[page 10]

Judge: Accursed prisoner, confess that it was the
damnable Arians who hired you to do away with the saintly Ambrose, the
great leader of our Church.

Innocentus: I confess it, merciful judge, my kindest
friend.

Judge: Confess that it was as the agent of the hellbound
heretics that you sent your little devils out against the great
Ambrose, whom the lord encircled with an impenetrable wall of flame
and protected from their horns and hooves.

Innocentus: I admit it, o kind Judge and Father, I admit
it was the heretics. And I can already feel how the more obscure
half of ay soul is slowly clearing in the purgatory of the Bench's
cross-questioning. Is it possible that my wicked deeds will be
regarded as forgivable sins?

Judge: Confess, accursed prisoner, that you were paid by
the heretics, with their smell of wolves and their deranged minds,
and that they intent on destroying the unity of the Holy Mother
Church, bought your illegal and forbidden skills, your fetid mouth
and your manual dexterity. What blood money did they promise, and
how much did they pay you in advance for killing the great Ambrose,
the hope of our Church?

Innocentus: I admit it. . . I admit it. I received 1
silver sesterces.

Assessor: So little value was placed on your skill?

Innocentus: Rightly, as became clear afterwards, for
which thanks be to the Most High Lord.

Judge: Ten altogether, accursed prisoner?

Innocentus: Two on another occasion, o merciful Judge,
protector of my soul.

Judge: Twelve altogether, then? Accursed prisoner,
confess that you had access to high officials in the land?

Innocentus: I admit I have had access to them.

Judge: Even to the highest?

Innocentus: Even to the highest, o Distinguished Judge.

[page 11]

Judges: To the highest officials of the Sirmium Imperial
Court?

Innocentus: I understand you, o softly spoken, wise
Judge. Even to high officials of the Sirmium Imperial Court.

Judges: Even to the highest?

Innocentus: I understand. Woe is me! I had access even
to the highest.

Judge: Accursed prisoner, was it in their houses that
you received the shameless commission and stipulated the blood,
money and the little advance?

Innocentus: o Fatherly Judge, Counsellor and Loved Friend,
for some time, that is to say, from the moment when you began to
speak more intimately to me, lowly and sin-beset as I am, I have
felt that I am being purified by your kind and flattering trust.
I have no reason to deny that it was in the houses of those high
personages that I received the cruel commission and command, as
well as the little advance.

Judge: The ridiculously small advance was paid out by
the Treasurer of the Imperial Exchequer into your filthy hands?

Innocentus: I understand. . . Woe is me, three times, woe!
Yes, he paid me.

Judge: Accursed prisoner, tell me who it was by name who
gave you the secret commission and order, and swore you to
secrecy, that you would never divulge his name, even on the rack?

Innocentus: Three times woe is me!

Judge: Poor accursed prisoner, I release you from your
vow.

Innocentus: Nine times woe is me!

Judge: Usher, place on the table before the Bench the
oiled cloth, and open it out. The Bench ascertains with horror that
the stinking little hoof, as black as soot, before it, smells
unmistakably of sulphur, and, on further close examination, catches
disgusted sight of crinkled hair, likewise black as soot, sticking
to one side of the hoof. On the basis of these facts, the Bench
considers it proven that the poor accursed prisoner told the
truth on this occasion, even without the rack.

[page 12]

Innocentus: I said so, did I not? Woe is me!

Judge: Poor, accursed prisoner, then who was it by
name who gave the commission and command to overthrow the saintly,
pious Ambrose, the greatest orator of the age, the leader and
pillar of Christendom?

Innocentus: Woe is met May I say who it was?

Judge: Without heating about the bush.

Innocentus: I dare not.

Judge: Of whatever unimaginably high worldly rank the
person may be, name him without further ado, poor accursed prisoner.
Innocentus. If it be the highest, or at least nearly
the highest, even then?

Judge: Especially then, poor accursed prisoner.

Innocentus: And shall I not suffer worldly harm for my
bold outspokenness? Now that my soul has been washed almost
clean, my mouth largely cleared of stench, and I thus have hope
that, when I eventually die, I shall, as a forgiven sinner, come
into the purifying fire, must I now not tremble that lay executioners
will seize me by my scrawny neck?

Judge: Poor prisoner, the course of the secret trials
and their results will remain forever, till the Day of Judgment,
a secret undivulged to anyone except God and the other people
concerned.

Innocentus: May I then dare to name the name? Even if
it is a person of almost the highest worldly rank, an august personage,
disturbingly beautiful and very capricious in humor that I must
point to?

Judge: Poor, poor prisoner, whisper his name.

Assessor: In my ear, too, prisoner.

Innocentus: At midnight, after I had been led through a
secret underground passage by her female slave into her boudoir,
the order was given to me for the destruction and annihilation,
in any way and by any means, of the pious and saintly Ambrose, Bishop
of Milan and Leader of the Mother Church, by the widow of the
immortal Emperor Valentinian I and the mother of the immortal
Valentinian II, the ravishingly beautiful and capricious-humored
Empress Justina. Eighteen times, woe is me!

(Hungarian Unit)

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