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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cca9e2a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69121 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69121) diff --git a/old/69121-0.txt b/old/69121-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 461738c..0000000 --- a/old/69121-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11743 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of An outlaw's diary: revolution, by -Cécile Tormay - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: An outlaw's diary: revolution - -Author: Cécile Tormay - -Contributor: The Duke of Northumberland - -Release Date: October 9, 2022 [eBook #69121] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian - Libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTLAW'S DIARY: -REVOLUTION *** - - - - - - -AN OUTLAW’S DIARY - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - - Crown 8vo. 6s. net. each - - THE OLD HOUSE: A Novel - STONECROP: A Novel - - Published by - PHILIP ALLAN & CO. - - - - -[Illustration: THE AUTHOR IN HER STUDY. - -(_Frontispiece._)] - - - - - AN OUTLAW’S - DIARY: - REVOLUTION - - By - CECILE TORMAY - - WITH A FOREWORD BY - THE DUKE OF NORTHUMBERLAND - - [Illustration] - - LONDON: - PHILIP ALLAN & CO. - QUALITY COURT - - _First published in 1923_ - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY W. JOLLY AND SONS, LTD., ABERDEEN. - - - - - TO - A GENTLE VICTIM - OF THE REVOLUTION - MY UNFORGETTABLE MOTHER - I DEDICATE THIS - BOOK - - - - -PREFACE - - -It was fate that dubbed this book _An Outlaw’s Diary_, for it was -itself outlawed at a time when threat of death was hanging over every -voice that gave expression to the sufferings of Hungary. It was in -hiding constantly, fleeing from its parental roof to lonely castles, -to provincial villas, to rustic hovels. It was in hiding in fragments, -between the pages of books, under the eaves of strange houses, up -chimneys, in the recesses of cellars, behind furniture, buried in the -ground. The hands of searching detectives, the boots of Red soldiers, -have passed over it. It has escaped miraculously, to stand as a memento -when the graves of the victims it describes have fallen in, when grass -has grown over the pits of its gallows, when the writings in blood and -bullets have disappeared from the walls of its torture chambers. - -And now that I am able to send the book forth in print, I am constrained -to omit many facts and many details which as yet cannot stand the light -of day, because they are the secrets of living men. The time will come -when that which is dumb to-day will be at liberty to raise its voice. -And as some time has now passed since I recorded, from day to day, these -events, much that was obscure and incomprehensible has been cleared up. -Yet I will leave the pages unrevised, I will leave the pulsations of -those hours untouched. If I have been in the wrong, I pray the reader’s -indulgence. My very errors will mirror the errors of those days. - -Here is no attempt to write the history of a revolution, nor is this -the diary of a witness of political events. My desire is only that my -book may give voice to those human phases which historians of the future -will be unable to describe—simply because they are known only to those -who have lived through them. It shall speak of those things which were -unknown to the foreign inspirers of the revolution, because to them -everything that was truly Hungarian was incomprehensible. - -May there survive in my book that which perishes with us: the honour of -a most unfortunate generation of a people that has been sentenced to -death. May those who come after us see what tortures our oppressed and -humiliated race suffered silently during the year of its trial. May _An -Outlaw’s Diary_ be the diary of our sufferings. When I wrote it my desire -was to meet in its pages those who were my brethren in common pain; and -through it I would remain in communion with them even to the time which -neither they nor I will ever see—the coming of the new Hungarian spring. - - CECILE TORMAY. - -BUDAPEST, _Christmas, 1920_. - - - - -FOREWORD - - -The writer of this book tells us that “here is no attempt to write the -history of a revolution, nor is this the diary of a witness of political -events.” Nevertheless the fact remains that it contains much more than -the personal experiences of an actor in one of the greatest tragedies -that has occurred in recent history. If it were only that, its value -would still be very great, for it is so vivid and dramatic a human -document, and yet its style is so simple and so completely devoid of all -“frills” or straining after effect, that it will appeal as much to those -who like good literature and a moving tale for their own sakes, as to -those who desire to understand a chapter of history about which little -is known, but which yet throws a flood of light upon the great world -movements of to-day. - -To those who are interested in that international revolutionary movement -which, in one form or another, is threatening every civilized state -to-day, this book will be invaluable. The course of events which led -up to the revolution in Hungary was precisely similar to the course of -events in Russia. In both cases there was a more or less open radical, -socialistic, and pacifist movement working in conjunction with a hidden -subversive movement. In Hungary the latter movement is described as “a -pseudo-scientific organization of the Freemasons, the International -Freethinkers’ Branch of Hungarian Higher Schools, and the Circle of -Galilee with its almost exclusively Jewish membership.” - -In both cases the way for revolution was prepared by an insidious -propaganda in the workshops and in the Army and Navy. In both cases -the revolution was not the result of a spontaneous outburst of -popular feeling but of a sinister conspiracy using the confusion and -discouragement of a military disaster for its own ends. In both cases -the first step towards the complete overthrow of Church and State was -the erection of a bourgeois radical and socialist republic whose aim -was to disintegrate and demoralise as a preliminary to the coup d’état -which ushered in “the dictatorship of the Proletariat.” Russia had her -Kerensky, Hungary her Károlyi. - -This book deals with Hungary’s agony from the standpoint of one who -experienced every one of its phases; it does not deal with Hungary’s -resurrection from the grave of Bolshevism, and it is here that the -parallel with Russia ceases. The heart of Hungary was sound; the -corruption, demoralisation and inertia which have made Russia the -plague-spot of humanity had not so deeply permeated the national life -of Hungary. The race had too much vigour, too great a regard for its -religion, its history, its traditions and its liberty to submit for long -to that soul-destroying tyranny. And yet—and here is a lesson for the -countries of Western Europe—this nation, which, owing to its traditions -and the character and pursuits of its people would have seemed less -disposed than any other to submit to Communism, did for a time succumb -to the despotism of a few criminal fanatics, a gang of mental and moral -perverts. And the disaster was due not so much to the strength of the -subversive influences as to the weakness and cowardice of the authorities -in Church and State and in Society at large. - -In a great industrial country like Great Britain there is far more -favourable ground than there was in Hungary for the production of -antisocial philosophies and the manufacture of revolutionaries; the -danger from insidious propaganda, from the failure of Government to -govern, is no less but rather more than it was in Hungary. This book -shows how appalling are the consequences of even a temporary overthrow of -those bulwarks of civilisation, law, order and religion, and that mankind -in the 20th Century is capable of reverting in a moment to the barbarism -and anarchy of the Dark Ages. Russia, Italy, Hungary and Ireland have all -in the past few years told the same tale. One of the greatest empires of -the world now presents the picture of a society enduring a living death; -Hungary and Italy have saved themselves by their exertions and perhaps -Europe by their example. Ireland’s fate is trembling in the balance, but -the corruption of a whole population, the systematic training of the -youth of a country to exalt rebellion into a science and murder into a -religion, can only have one result. If the cancer has been checked in -some quarters, if the gangrene has been amputated here and there, the -poison is still working through all the European body politic, not only -in those outrageous forms which naturally arouse opposition in all decent -and educated minds, but in those subtle forms which disguise themselves -under the cloak of a spurious Christianity, a zeal for humanity, the -brotherhood of man, and the internationalism of Labour. The open and the -hidden agitations subsist side by side and each plays into the other’s -hands. The “Red” International of Moscow, the “Yellow” International of -Amsterdam, the various shades of Socialism and Syndicalism, are all -parts of one great subversive Movement though their adherents are not all -aware of it, and the strings are pulled by the Secret Societies which -during the past century have been behind every revolution in Europe. - -And, as this book reminds us, the only means of counteracting the danger -is not by surrender or compromise, not by seeking new creeds and theories -but in adherence to old ones, not by nursing illusions but by facing -facts, by courage, by a steadfast regard for principles, by the faith of -authority in its mission, by “strengthening the things which remain and -are ready to die.” - - NORTHUMBERLAND. - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - THE AUTHOR IN HER STUDY _frontispiece_ - - REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIERS _page_ 8 - - PAUL KÉRI AND VICTOR HELTAI ” 10 - - EUGENE LANDLER ” 12 - - COUNT STEPHEN TISZA ” 20 - - COUNT MICHAEL KÁROLYI ” 26 - - KING CHARLES ” 36 - - COUNT KÁROLYI AND HIS ENTOURAGE ” 50 - - THE HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT ” 58 - - “KÁROLYI STOOD ON THE STEPS” ” 60 - - SOLDIERS SWEARING ALLEGIANCE TO THE NATIONAL COUNCIL ” 62 - - JOSEPH POGÁNY ” 70 - - COUNTESS KÁROLYI ” 72 - - FIUME ” 78 - - “THE TRAGEDY OF EVERY RUINED HOME” ” 86 - - “ON THE ROOFS OF THE INCOMING TRAINS” ” 96 - - HELTAI’S SAILORS ” 120 - - THE CROWN PRINCE ” 122 - - “ON ALL THE ROADS ... HOMELESS PEOPLE ARE IN FLIGHT” ” 124 - - QUEEN ZITA ” 128 - - “A TINY SZÉKLER VILLAGE” ” 132 - - JOHN HOCK ” 138 - - SIGMUND KUNFI ” 140 - - BÉLA KÚN ” 160 - - THE HUNGARIAN CROWN ” 162 - - A COMMUNIST ORATOR ” 176 - - THE VALLEY OF THE GARAM ” 186 - - WILLIAM BÖHM ” 196 - - BÉLA KÚN ADDRESSING THE CROWD ” 214 - - “THERE WERE PROCESSIONS EVERYWHERE” ” 258 - - THE ROYAL CASTLE, BUDA ” 260 - - COUNT KÁROLYI DISTRIBUTING HIS LANDS ” 270 - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. 1 - - II. 19 - - III. 34 - - IV. 55 - - V. 69 - - VI. 85 - - VII. 101 - - VIII. 119 - - IX. 135 - - X. 153 - - XI. 171 - - XII. 189 - - XIII. 208 - - XIV. 225 - - XV. 239 - - XVI. 256 - - XVII. 274 - - - - -AN OUTLAW’S DIARY - - - - -CHAPTER I - - - _October 31st, 1918._ - -The town was preparing for the Day of the Dead, and white chrysanthemums -were being sold at the street corners. A mad, black crowd carried the -flowers with it. This year there will not be any for the cemeteries: the -quick adorn themselves with that which belongs to the dead. - -Flowers of the graveyard, symbols of decay, white chrysanthemums. A town -beflowered like a grave, under a hopeless sky. Such is Budapest on the -31st of October, 1918. - -Between the rows of houses shabby, drenched flags wave on their staffs, -and the pavement is covered with dirt. Torn bits of paper, pieces of -posters, crushed white flowers mixed in the mud. The town is as filthy -and gloomy as a foul tavern after a night’s debauch. - -This night Count Michael Károlyi’s National Council has grasped the reins -of power. - -So low have we fallen! Anger and inexpressible bitterness assailed me. -Against my will, with an irresistible obsession, my eyes were reading -over and over again the inscriptions on strips of red, white, and green -paper which were pasted on the shop windows in unceasing repetition: -“Long live the Hungarian National Council”.... Who has wanted this -council? Who has asked for it? Why do they stand it? - -Count Julius Andrássy, the Monarchy’s Minister for Foreign Affairs in -Vienna, was clamouring desperately for a separate peace. The thought -of it raised in my mind the picture of some distant little wooden -crosses.... As if they came down from among the clouds.... Graves at the -foot of the Carpathians, on the Transylvanian frontier, along the Danube. -Fallen in the defence of Hungarian soil.... - -And now we forsake the mothers, wives and children of those who are -buried there. The blood rushed to my face. Everything totters, even the -country’s honour. The very war-news fluctuates wildly. Our heroes gain -tragic, profitless victories on Mount Assolo, whilst on the plains of -Venezia the army is already in retreat—along the Drina, the Száva and the -Danube too. And here in the capital the soldiers are swearing allegiance -to Károlyi’s National Council. What a mean tragedy! And over the empty -royal castle, over the bridges, on the steamers on the Danube, flags are -flying as if for a holiday. - -I reached the Elisabeth Bridge. In irregular ranks disarmed Bosnian -soldiers marched past me, most of them carrying small military trunks on -their shoulders. The little wooden boxes moved irregularly up and down in -rhythm with their steps, which had lost their discipline. The soldiers -cheer and cannot understand what it all means. But for all that: “Zivio!” -They are allowed to go home, so they are going towards the railway -station. - -A motor lorry came up the bridge towards me. The electric trams have -stopped, and the whole road belonged to the lorry. It raced along -furiously, noisily, like a crazy wild animal that has escaped captivity. -Armed young ruffians and soldiers stood on it, shouting; and a boy, -looking like an apprentice, lifted his rifle with an effort and fired it -into the air. The boy was small, the rifle nearly as long as himself. -Everything seemed so incredible, so unnatural. One of the Bosnians -appeared to think so too, for he turned back as he went along. I can see -him now, with his prematurely aged face under the grey cap. He shook his -head and muttered something. - -Then the Bosnians disappeared. The damp wind blew cold from the Danube -between the houses of Pest, and the rain started again. - -At the corner, three men were gathered under a single umbrella, their big -boots looking as if they stood empty in the water on the road. Their -coats too looked as if they were empty, and the water drizzled from their -worn-out hats on to the collars of their coats. Clearly they were petty -officials. For thirty years and more they have been accustomed to go at -this time of the day to their office. Now they have found suddenly that -the path has slipped away from under their feet, and they don’t know what -to do: this was an unlawful business ... the official oath ... their -conscience.... If it were not for the question how to live! What about -the others? Perhaps they have gone already. One ought to take counsel -with the head of the department.... - -They discussed the matter, started to go, stopped, then started again. -Finally, when I looked after them they were walking on steadily, as if -they had found the accustomed groove from which it was impossible for -them to swerve. - -Posters, fastened to poles, were floating in the air. Underneath, in a -steady throng, people passed incessantly, walking as if under compulsion, -as if they could not stop, as if they had lost the power of altering -their direction. It was as though some huge dark animal crawled along the -pavement, a yoke on its neck, and as it crawled slowly it cheered. - -I felt an inarticulate cry rising in my throat, and I wanted to shout to -them to stop and to turn back. But in the flowing crowd there was already -something like predestination, something which cannot be stopped. And yet -occasionally its course was deviated. The throng parted now and then, and -in between motor cars passed in regular, short jerks. And in the cars, -decorated with national coloured ribbons and white chrysanthemums, were -typically Semitic faces. Behind them, in the middle of the road, the -human waves closed up again. - -I turned off into a by-street. A peasant’s little wooden cart came -towards me. Swabian peasant women from Hidegkút were being shaken about -in it, gay and broad among the milk cans. Suddenly—I did not notice -whence they came—three sailors stepped into the cart’s path. One caught -hold of the horse’s bridle while the two others jumped on to the cart. -Everything happened in a flash.... At first the women thought it was a -joke, and turned their stupid young faces to each other with a grin. But -the sailors meant no joke. With curses they pushed the women off the cart -and, as if they were doing the most natural thing in the world, in broad -daylight, in the middle of the city, and in sight of a crowd of people, -they calmly drove off with somebody else’s property. The whip cracked and -the little cart went off in rapid jerks. Only then did the women realize -what had happened. With loud shrieks they called for help and pointed -where the cart had gone to. But the street was lazy and cowardly and did -not come to the rescue. Men passed by, shrinking from contact with other -people’s troubles, as if these were infectious. - -It was all so helpless and ugly. It seemed to me that all of us who -passed there had lost something. I dared not follow up the trend of my -thoughts.... - -Under the porch of the next house two ruffians attacked a young officer. -One of them had a big carving knife in his hand. They howled threats. A -stick rose and the lieutenant’s cap was knocked off his head. Dirty hands -snatched him by the throat. The knife moved near his collar ... the stars -were cut off it. The cross of his order and the gold medal on his chest -jangled together. The mob roared. The little lieutenant stood bareheaded -in the middle of the circle, his face as white as snow. He said nothing, -did not even defend himself, only his shoulders shook convulsively. With -a clumsy movement, like a child who starts weeping, he passed the back of -his left hand across his eyes. Poor little lieutenant! I noticed now that -his right sleeve was empty to the shoulder. - -Even then nothing happened. The people again pretended not to see, as -if they were glad that it had not been their turn.... Everything seemed -confused and vague, like a half-waking fever-dream in the reality of -which the dreamer does not believe, though he cannot help moaning under -its influence. - -What was happening there?... In front of the Garrison Commander’s -building, under some bare trees, some soldiers were holding open a large -red, white and green flag. At first I thought they were at play. Then I -saw that an unkempt, bandy-legged little man was cutting out the crown -from above the coat-of-arms with his pocket-knife. And they held it out -for him!... I felt as if I had been burnt, and turned my head away so -that nobody might see my face. A little further on the declaration of the -Social Democratic Party stared at me from a wall: - - “Fellow workers. Comrades! The egotism of class rule has - driven the country with inevitable fatality into revolution. - The troops who have joined the National Council have occupied - without bloodshed the principal places of the capital, the Post - Office, the Telephone Exchanges and the Town Hall, on Wednesday - night, and have sworn allegiance to the National Council. - Workers! Comrades! Now it is your turn! The counter revolution - will undoubtedly attempt to regain power. You must demonstrate - that you are on the side of your soldier brethren. Out into the - streets! Stop all work! - - _The Hungarian Social Democratic Party._” - -This poster made a curious impression on me: it was as if a monstrous lie -had proclaimed the truth about itself. The party which was striving for -the rule of the working-class orders in its first declaration: “Stop all -work!” After such a beginning, what will it order to-morrow—and after? - -People came towards me: workmen who were not workmen, who no longer do -any work; soldiers who were not soldiers, who no longer obey. In this -foul atmosphere nothing is any longer what it seems. The many red, white -and green flags on the houses are no longer our flags; no longer are they -the nation’s colours. Only the chrysanthemums remain true flowers of the -graveyard. - -I went on slowly, but suddenly I stopped again: on the glass window of an -obscure little tobacconist’s shop, among the newspapers exposed for sale, -appeared a sickly, crushed-strawberry coloured poster, which proclaimed -in red “Long live the National Council.” And then, as if some loathsome -skin-disease had infected the houses, appeared more and more red posters, -and their colour became bolder and bolder. I was informed later that -panic-stricken tradespeople had paid two hundred crowns, some even a -thousand, into the funds of the National Council for this shop-window -insurance. - -In the windows of some shops the big poster of the _Népszava_[1] was -displayed. In one night the organ of the Social Democrats had penetrated -from its slum into the city, and its poster proclaimed from the windows -of meek bourgeois shops “Behold the writing!” ... On the poster was -printed in red a naked man lifting his red hammer at the crowd beyond -the window. A horror made of blood.... The thronging crowd never thought -that the hammer was lifted to break its head. And the tradesmen never -thought that the hairy red hand was on the point of emptying their tills. -I noticed that on the poster of evil omen, besides the bloody monster, a -red working-man was struggling with a policeman who held him in chains. - -A curious picture.... I now thought of the police of the capital. The -day before yesterday it had adhered to Károlyi’s National Council. The -famous police force of Budapest had forsaken its high ideals of duty and -had gone over to the wreckers. Never before did I realize the importance -of this betrayal. I shivered. The fog drifted as if the very atmosphere -had become unstable. The walls of the houses near me seemed to waver too; -and I seemed to hear the cracking of the plaster, as if they also were -preparing to collapse. The noise came from the very foundation of things. -Something invisible was collapsing in this city already undermined. - -“Hungarians” ... then silence. A little further it went on: “National” -... then it started again all along the street. My unwilling eyes were -reading the posters over and over again. - -“National Council”.... What is this obscure assembly after all? How -dare it call itself the council of the nation? Who are those who incite -against the state and collect oaths of allegiance for themselves? Who are -those who from the room of an hotel appeal to the nation and promise “an -immediate Hungarian peace, the equal right of all nations, the League of -Nations, the freeing of the world, a social policy which will strengthen -the power of the workers”?... They have not got a word for our frontiers -established a thousand years! What happens in the background whither our -eyes cannot penetrate? Do the secret allies of the Entente work among -us, or only our own enemies who, by means of their proclamations, shout -in their Ghetto-lingo that “this programme, which is to save Hungary and -free the people, has the whole-hearted support of the Hungarian army?” - -Who says that? Who proclaims himself the saviour of Hungary in the -hour of her greatest peril? Count Michael Károlyi and Rosa Schwimmer? -Martin Lovászy, Baron Louis Hatvany-Deutsch, John Hock, Sigmund -Kunfi-Kunstätter, Ladislaus Fényes, William Böhm, Count Theodor Batthyány -and Louis Bíró-Blau? Dezsö Abraham, Alexander Garbai and Ernest -Garami-Grünfeld? Oscar Jászi-Jakobovics, Paul Szende-Schwarz and Mrs. -Ernest Müller? Zoltán Jánosi, Louis Purjesz and Jacob Weltner? - -Eleven Jews and eight bad Hungarians! - -My soul is racked with indescribable pain. Good God, where is the King? -Where is Count Hadik and his government, the officers, the still faithful -troops? Are there no longer any fists? Is there nobody to strike at all? - -After Gödöllö the King now gropes in Vienna. Hadik remains inactive while -the fateful hours fly by. The officials do not lay down their pens, but -incline their heads meekly under the new yoke. And, worst of all, the -military command surrenders its sword without an attempt to draw it. -There is no resistance anywhere: dark, underhand forces by careful labour -have prepared the ground long ago. They have demolished everything that -is Hungarian. And now, one stitch after the other, with deadly rapidity, -the fabric that has endured a thousand years is coming undone. - -My brain worked feverishly, thoughts galloping madly and seeking -desperately for somebody—something. Somebody who could still stem the -general ruin. Stephen Tisza!... And silently I asked his pardon for -having condemned and misunderstood him. How he must suffer now! What must -his thoughts be? - -Near the church of the Franciscans a thronging crowd pushed me to the -wall, so that I could not move. In front of me small urchins wormed -themselves like moles through the crowd—Galician boys, with _payes_—locks -hanging down in front of their ears—who were present and yet invisible, -whose passage was only signalled by the shrinking of people’s shoulders, -just as the underground road of the mole is marked by the mole-hills -above. The boys were distributing poetry printed by the _Népszava_, -offering it with humble impudence and thrusting it into the pockets of -those who refused to take it. - -The air was full of disturbing noises, and cheering was audible from the -end of the road. A motor lorry clattered towards the Town Hall, reeling -sailors, armed to the teeth, standing upon it with wide-spread legs. -Red ribbons floated from their overcoats, and they bellowed songs. A -schoolboy was running after the lorry dragging a big rifle behind him on -the pavement. Soldiers, students, ragged women, streamed along. In the -uproar two gentlemen were pushed to my side near the church wall. One was -extremely excited: “I know it from a quite reliable source,” he said. -“They are looting in the suburbs. The stores too.... Yesterday Károlyi’s -agents armed the workmen of the arsenal. Thirty thousand armed workmen! -At the railway station the mob has disarmed the soldiers.” - -“There is not a word of truth in all that,” answered the other. “There is -order everywhere. Post Office, telephone exchanges.... The railway-men -have declared for the National Council. The whole press is with it, and -so is public opinion.... The situation has been quietly cleared. As soon -as Károlyi’s government is formed there will be order ... Lovászy, Kunfi, -Jászi, Garami.... We must resign ourselves. None but Károlyi can get us a -speedy good peace.” - -“How do you know?” - -“Well, the newspapers.... Then Károlyi has made a statement. He has great -connections with the Entente.” - -[Illustration: REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIERS. - -(_To face p. 8._)] - -I lost all patience and could listen no more, so sought a passage in the -crowd. The throng became thinner, and a drunken soldier staggered past -me. An officers’ patrol came out from a street and stood in the soldier’s -way. Every man of it was a Jew. One of them shouted harshly: “In the name -of the Soldiers’ Council!” and the drunkard submitted reluctantly. - -Now I remembered: some days ago I had heard that Károlyi’s men were -organizing soldiers’ and workmens’ councils. These councils meet in -conclave at night in schoolrooms, lecture halls. And this in Hungary! -Here, in our midst ... I shuddered from head to foot. “In the name of the -Soldiers’ Council!” It seemed as if Trotski’s Russia had shouted into the -streets of Pest. - -Near my head a half-torn poster rustled in the wind. “To the Nation.”... -Tattered, Archduke Joseph’s cry of alarm died on the grimy wall. I looked -quickly behind me. Does anybody besides me read it? No, nobody stops. -And yet, how many people were about? And the crowd increased. It was as -though the city had for years devoured countless Galician immigrants -and now vomited them forth in sickness. How sick it was! Syrian faces -and bodies, red posters and red hammers whirled round in it. And -freemasons, feminists, editorial offices, Galileans, night cafés came -to the surface—and the ghetto sported cockades of national colours and -chrysanthemums. - -As though it were beneath some wicked enchantment, the invisible part of -the town has now become visible. It has come forth from the darkness to -take what it has long claimed as its own. The gratings of the gutters -have been removed. The drains vomit their contents and the streets are -invaded by their stench. The filthy odour of unaired dwellings spreads. -Doors are thrown open that till now have been kept closed. - -Russia! Great, accursed mystery.... Did it begin there in the same -way?... I breathed with repugnance and drew myself together so that none -might touch me in passing. - -Presently I met an armed patrol. Though the soldiers wore ribbons of the -national colours I still felt a stranger to them, for they have already -sworn allegiance to the National Council.... They looked shabby and bore -chrysanthemums in the muzzles of their rifles. From a window a woman of -Oriental corpulence threw white flowers to them. - -A young girl came along, a Hungarian. She distributed chrysanthemums and -smiled, and her shaded eyes shone like a child’s: “Long live independent -Hungary!” I stared at her. There are some like this too. Many, perhaps -very many. They live the glorious revolution of 1848 in this infamous -parody, and dream of the realization of Kossuth’s dreams. Poor wretches! -They are even more unfortunate than I am. - -The girl offered me a flower and talked some nonsense about Petöfi. I -wanted to tell her to give it up and go home, that she had been deceived -and it was all lies; but my efforts were in vain, I could not pronounce -a single word. I stumbled over the edge of the pavement, my feet seemed -leaden.... A bucket stood in front of me with a big brush in it. I looked -up. A weedy youth was spreading paste over the wall, and a new poster -glared at me. The people stood around and craned their necks. - - “Soldiers! You have proved yourselves the greatest heroes - within, the last twenty-four hours, don’t soil the honours you - have gained.... Abstain from intoxicating liquors.... Obey - your comrades who have volunteered to maintain order. With - patriotic, cordial greetings, - - HELTAI, - _Town Commandant_.” - -“And who is that, now?” people asked each other. - -“The Commander of the troops?” - -“Is he the Heltai who is the son of Adolph Hoffer?” - -“To be sure!” I heard behind my back. - -The unkempt crowd laughed. - -“Paul Kéri and Göndör got him nominated by the National Council.” - -Paul Kéri, whose name used to be Krammer, and Francis Göndör, whose real -name was Nathan Krausz, two radical newspaper scribes, decide who is to -command the troops of the Hungarian capital! And it is on Heltai, the son -of Adolph Hoffer, that their choice falls. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HELTAI _alias_ HOFFER, REVOLUTIONARY COMMANDER OF -THE BUDAPEST GARRISON. - -PAUL KÉRI _alias_ KRAMMER, ONE OF COUNT KÁROLYI’S ADVISERS. - -(_To face p. 10._)] - -Wild fury, hopeless despair, came over me. I wanted to shout for help, -like the Swabian women whom I had seen robbed. But who would have -listened to me and my misery? They might have laughed, or they might have -arrested me. The street moved, lived, hummed, but it was not conscious. -For a time I stared at the people, then I set my teeth. Was it I who was -mad, or they? And I went on. - -In front of the Astoria Hotel the crowd stopped. After its secret -sittings in Count Theodor Batthyány’s palace Károlyi’s National Council -pitched its tent here, till it might take possession of the conquered -Town Hall. Near the hotel innumerable carriages and motors were waiting. -Flags flew from the building and through its revolving door, which -reminded one of a bank, men of the stock-exchange type went in and -out. There was no policeman anywhere, though the crowd was increasing -dangerously. The monster which had crawled in from the suburbs was -reclining against the wall of the building, leaving a muddy, smirched -trail behind it. Its head rose under the porch: a man stood on the -others’ shoulders. His face was red and he waved his hat violently as he -shouted: - -“Hadik has got the sack.... Károlyi is Prime-Minister!” - -“Somebody is going to make a speech,” a little Jew girl said and tried to -press forward. Over the porch an ugly fat man appeared between the flags. -“Eugene Landler!” shouted the girl in rapture. A soldier thrust her -aside. “What’s he got to do with it? In the barracks, last night, those -who spoke were at any rate Hungarians—a chap called Martin Lovászy and -one called Pogány. They had darned big mouthpieces, but they had the gift -of the gab!” - -The crowd hummed like a boiling kettle. “Speak up, hear! hear!” All -looked upward. - -A voice from the porch fell into the listening ears. I stood far away, on -the other side of the road, so only incoherent words reached me: - -“... an independent Hungary ... democracy ... social reforms.... -International platform.... In the interest of foreigners.... The -gentle-folk have driven us to the slaughter-house!” - -“Well, that’s just the place for that fat one,” said the soldier with -disgust. Those near him began to laugh, and a man who appeared to be an -artisan screwed up his lips and gave a shrill whistle. - -“That’ll do. Say something new! Shut up!” some shouted towards the porch. - -Then something unexpected happened. A young Jew threw the name of Tisza -into the crowd. He threw it there, just as if by accident. - -“He caused the war! Long live Károlyi! To death with Tisza!” The same -thing was shouted from the other corner, and a hoarse voice exclaimed: - -“Long live the revolution!” - -I shuddered. It was for the first time that I heard it thus, openly, in -the street. Rigid white faces appeared under the entrances. But the cry -died away. It found no echo. - -“Down with the King!” This appealed to the mob. It was new, hitherto none -had dared to touch this. The rabble snatched at what it heard and vomited -it back with a vengeance. And the repulsive chorus was led by the young -man who had previously mentioned the name of Tisza. - -The news-boys of a mid-day paper came shouting down the street: “The -National Council has proclaimed the Republic!” - -“Long live the Republic....” This was only an attempt, but it failed. -Nobody became enthusiastic. Someone shouted: “To Gödöllö!” - -A Versailles, à Versailles! The starving mob of Paris shouted this -a hundred and thirty years ago, and now in Budapest fat bank clerks -exclaim: “Let us go to Gödöllö!” Nobody moved. It is said that ten -thousand armed workmen are marching on it.... I burned with shame. This -news was not invented by Hungarian minds. Armed men, against children! -It is not true.... At any rate, the King’s children have made good their -escape.... I only heard half of what was said. Poor little children!... - - -[Illustration: EUGENE LANDLER, HOME SECRETARY. LATER A COMMANDER IN THE -RED ARMY. - -(_To face p. 12._)] - -As if I had been chased I turned to go down the boulevard towards the -bridge. By now armed sailors were already stopping motor-cars in the -streets, thrusting the occupants out and driving off in the cars. It was -done quickly. Big lorries filled with armed soldiers raced across the -bridge. Some were even hanging on to the steps. Shots were fired, and -a drunkard sang in a husky voice: “Long live the Revolution, long live -drink....” - -The whole thing was humiliating and disgusting. If only I could escape -from it, so that I might see nothing, hear nothing! I longed for -home—home, out there in the woods, among the hills. - -At the entrance of the tunnel that passes under the castle hill a soldier -was offering his government rifle for sale and asking five crowns for it. -Another offered his bayonet. - -On the other side of the tunnel I felt as if I had emerged at the -antipodes. There the town was quiet, so quiet that I could hear the echo -of my steps in the streets of Buda. The single-storeyed houses cuddled -peacefully on the side of the hill. There people will not know what has -happened till to-morrow, when they will read it over their breakfast. - -In one of the low windows some flower-pots stood between the curtains. A -clock struck in the room, and a young girl started watering the flowers -with a little red watering-can. Doubtless she watered them yesterday at -the same hour and life will be the same for her to-morrow. Meanwhile, -on the other bank of the Danube they shout: Long live the revolution! -Revolution.... Madness! What good can a revolution do now? Nobody takes -it seriously, not even those who made it. Madness! It did me good to -repeat the word, and I began to take heart. Nothing will come of it. The -Hungarian is not a revolutionary—he fights for freedom. Every commotion -in our history of a thousand years has been a war of liberation. And -freedom has come: independence has fallen from its own accord into the -nation’s lap.... - -A light already shone in one of the little houses. Under the hanging -lamp, round a circular table, people sat peacefully. They knew of -nothing.... In one of the yards someone played an accordion. The -homely, suburban music, the fatigue of my long silent walk, weakened -the awful impressions of the other shore. All that had tortured me was -disappearing, and my thoughts were only of hanging lamps and accordions. - -The density of the mist increased with the evening, and when I reached -the old military cemetery it had nearly absorbed the outlines of all -objects. Over the collapsing graves, between the many little rotting -wooden crosses, the tombstones dissolved like ghosts in the fog. In Pest -by now the mist would be a yellow reeking fog, while here it became a -thing of beauty. Nowadays everything that is beautiful in the country -turns to filth in Pest. - -Again I forgot to pay attention to the road, and my thoughts harped on -what I had lately seen. - -It was impossible that a few slums of a single town should make a -revolution when the whole country was against it.... Then, I don’t know -how, I came to think of _The Possessed_—Dostoevski’s wonderful novel. -I remembered a reception which I had attended last winter. We talked -of Russia, Lenin and Bolshevism, and I asked one of Michael Károlyi’s -relations if Károlyi had ever read that book. - -“Of course, and he loves it, too. He lent it to me to read.” - -There had been curious rumours about Károlyi for some time. - -“Is he learning from it how to make a revolution?” I asked, but received -no answer. - -I was tired and walked on slowly. Along the road the old, leafless -chestnut trees came towards me in hazy monotony, and there recurred -to my memory the little Russian town in Dostoevski’s book, into which -with his genius he has crowded a picture of Russia as a whole. Young -revolutionaries, back from Switzerland, meet accidentally in the little -town. The demoniacal leader of these morbid youths, craving for power, -destroys the existing order and produces chaos. Consumptive students, -alcoholics, syphilitic degenerates, prospective suicides, cracked -intellects, murderers and despairing cowards gather round him and he -forms a group of five from the select. And then he convinces them that -innumerable similar groups are waiting with eagerness for the signal to -revolt. When his five men hesitate he tricks them to commit a murder, -so that the knowledge of common guilt should make his slaves mutually -suspicious of each other. At his order they will raise the pyre.... -The actors of the revolution are together and the primal conditions -are ready. And then dissolution, terror and panic will come, and the -frightened, despoiled people will be prepared to suffer anything and -to recognise anybody as their omnipotent master who can create order, -whatever that order may be. “We take the sly ones with us, and lord it -over the simple.” That is the idea of Dostoevski’s hero. The eleven -internationalists of the National Council think the same. They too share -the power with the cunning ones and use Károlyi as a stepping-stone to -power. After all Károlyi is nothing but the tool of this Council. Who the -demon is, I do not yet know. - -Up, to power.... But they will not get it! A few resolute officers with -a handful of soldiers can restore order. The National Council is nothing -but an isolated “group of five.” There are no others. If its members are -arrested, the mud they have stirred up will settle down; they are not -united by any common honour, by any common crime. - -Napoleon once said that with a few guns he could have stopped the great -French Revolution. For these, a volley of rifle fire would do. But where -is he who can command it to-day? - -I came to the bridge over the Devil’s Ditch. In the mist the bridge -looked as if it did not rest on the banks. Above the depth of the fog it -floated mysteriously in space. Behind a drab amorphous veil the forest -on the slope of the hills seemed a dreamy enigma; the trees by the road: -lacelike blossoms of mist on the background of the falling night. - -No sound reached me. Only some pebbles, displaced by my steps, clattered -behind me. A branch cracked in the forest; it made me think of a skeleton -wringing its hands in impotent despair.... And if they don’t arrest -Károlyi and his accomplices to-night? Dostoevski’s novel came again to -my mind and from among my thoughts there emerged the shout of a wicked, -shrill voice: “To death with Tisza!” The penetrating mist now chilled me -to the marrow. I felt cold all through.... “Death to Tisza!” It rang in -my ears all the time. Good God, for how many years has this savage cry -been prepared by blinded politicians, by frivolous political _salons_, -by nearly all the press, in barracks, in factories, in the _aula_ of the -University, in the market place, between cellar and attic, in every human -den! For how many years! The work was done by ruthless agitators, and now -it is crowned with an awful success. In the eyes of the crowd he would -not be a criminal who attempted the life of Tisza. His life is outlawed. -The crowd is already prepared for the event. The mob in the street may -clamour without risk or protest for the life of this man: “To death with -Tisza!” I could not stop the fearful cry from ringing in my ears. - -For days I had spoken to nobody who belonged to Tisza’s circle. Was he in -town? Had he gone? If only he had gone away!... And I walked along the -mountain path while the hoarse cry followed me, like a vagabond with evil -intent. Try as I would I was unable to shake it off. - -Night had fallen and the mist had become dense round our house. The -fort opposite had disappeared and the edge of the mountain had become -invisible. From far away, in the direction where the town lay, the report -of firearms was audible. - -In the cold darkness the house appeared so lonely, as if it had been -expelled from communion with the rest of the world. The bonds that had -tied human fates together have been severed, and we know of nought but -what is going on in ourselves. The house was enclosed in a huge, grey -wall of mist. - -In the hall I tried to telephone, but could get no answer from the -exchange. The receiver buzzed meaninglessly. - -All at once rifle shots sounded from the hills, then came nearer. -Suddenly a shot rang out at the bottom of our garden. Another. That one -was nearer. Then a bullet struck the chestnut tree under my window. It -had a curious effect upon me, for an instant later it seemed as if the -whole thing had happened to someone else—as if I did not really live it, -but just read about it in a book. - -I extinguished the lamp, so that my lighted window should not serve as -a target, and then groped my way in the dark to the ground floor, to my -mother’s room. A narrow band of light showed on the floor under the -door. As she was awake I went in. She was sitting quietly in one of the -uncomfortable, high-backed, old-fashioned chairs. At the sound of the -opening door she turned and our eyes met. For a time we remained silent. -The firing outside had stopped too. - -“They seem to have stopped shooting,” said my mother, after a while, in -that wonderful quiet way which was always reflected on her countenance -whenever life treated her harshly. - -“It will be over sometime; we’ve got to live through it somehow,” I said, -just to say something. - -My mother moved wearily. “Be careful you do not catch cold. The night is -cool ...” - -Suddenly there was a sound of voices on the road. I remembered something -I had been told. Burglars.... - -“We ought to hide our money, mother, at any rate. If it were taken we -could get no more under the present circumstances.” - -For a moment, a moment only, my mother looked at me with consternation. -Then: “Of course.” And her mind too had crossed the abyss that separated -the old world of safety and protection from the new world of insecurity, -lawlessness, and uncertainty. - -I slipped the money under the carpet in the dark hall. Twice I stopped. -Someone was speaking in the road, near the gate. Voices were audible, -long consultations.... Steps withdrew. I went carefully up stairs and -took care that nobody should observe that the house was awake. - -My room seemed to have become chilled while I was downstairs. The -blackness engulfed me as in some deep black sea, and I shivered. For a -long time I remained standing in the same place. An incessant sound of -death came to me from outside: the chestnut tree under the window was -shedding its leaves. Resignation. The time of many falling leaves. The -eve of November.... The air was filled with low, rustling, soughing, -ghostly sounds. It was as if a crowd walked stealthily in the garden and -the forest stole secretly away. - -Hopeless distress, as I had never felt it before, came over me. Autumn is -departing from the hills this night, and by the morrow it will be gone. -Then winter comes irresistibly, dragging at its heels snow, cold, frost, -suffering, the unknown and perhaps the impossible. - -What is in store for us? - -In the darkness, like the ticking of time, incessantly, the leaves fell -with a faint sound. A dog whined beyond the garden, whined in an eerie, -terrifying way, as if somebody had died in its master’s house.... - -Despair overcame me. It was not only a dog that whined its lament: it was -the night that wept over Hungary. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - - _November 1st._ - -In the morning I heard that Tisza had been murdered. - -The telephone rang in the corridor, sharply, aggressively, as if the town -was shouting out to us among the woods. It was with reluctance that I put -the receiver to my ear. - -The ringing stopped and I heard only that meaningless buzzing at a -distance. It lasted for some time while I stared through the window at -the little ice-house in the garden. At last there was silence and I -recognised the voice of my brother Géza. He spoke from town, enquired -after mother, and asked how we had passed the night. In town they had -been shooting all night long, and armoured cars had rushed through the -streets. And then he said something I could not understand clearly. - -I felt a strange reluctance to understand. I began to be afraid of what -was coming, of hearing something which, once known, could never be -altered again. The presentiment of catastrophe took possession of me. - -“But what happened?” - -“Poor Stephen Tisza....” - -I still looked out into the garden at the reed-thatched roof of the -ice-house, staring at a reed which had become detached by some winter -storm. I stared at it till my eyes ached, as if I were clinging to it. -It was only a reed, but now everything to which one could cling was but -a reed. Suddenly the garden vanished. The window disappeared, and tears -fell from my eyes. - -I heard the voice of my brother again. He concluded from my silence that -I had not understood what he said, so he repeated it: “He is the only -victim of the revolution. Soldiers killed him. They penetrated into his -house and ... in the presence of his wife and of Denise Almássy they shot -him dead.” - -“The scoundrels!” - -Communication was suddenly broken off. - -Poor human creature! Forsaken, lonely, deserted man! Nobody protected -him. In his greatest hour, women alone stood by his side: it is always a -woman who is at the foot of the rood. My awful presentiment of Tisza’s -martyrdom came back to me in a shudder. How he must have suffered from -the thought that his usefulness had gone, how his brilliant brain must -have rebelled against annihilation, how his remaining vitality must -have revolted. Stephen Tisza was dead! What an awful void these words -created. Nobody was left to bear every burden in Hungary, to bear all -blame, all responsibility. The weight of the responsibility which he -alone bore falls to pieces with his death. Till now, one man bore them; -will the whole country be able to bear the burden? Even whilst I asked -this question I felt as if something which I had never felt before had -fallen upon my shoulders: my share of the terrible, invisible load. Small -legatees of a great testator ... I, others, every Hungarian. - -Poor Tisza! In his good qualities and in his shortcomings he was typical -of his race. He was faithful and God-fearing, honest, credulous and -obstinate, proud, brave, calumnied and lonely, just like old Hungary. In -my mind his qualities were so tightly knitted together that I could not -separate them. - -He was killed! Many will not understand the portent to Hungary of that -phrase. And yet Tisza’s corpse lies exposed in every Hungarian home, from -one end of the country to the other, in every house, every farm, every -cottage, even there where they do not know, where they laugh. - -[Illustration: COUNT STEPHEN TISZA. - -_Photo. Koller, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 20._)] - -The newsboy opened the door and threw the newspapers into the hall. The -papers flew in disorder over the floor. I said nothing about it, though -he seemed to expect some remark and looked back with an impudent grin to -see the effect his action had produced. Yesterday he would not have dared -to do such a thing. To-day the change has affected him too. How quickly -it spreads, faster than civilization! That would take years to cover the -road. - -I picked the papers up. Not one had the customary black margin of -mourning. A significant omission on the part of newspapers of Tisza’s -old party; it showed the restraining influence of some unknown power. -His death was reported in neutral words, hidden in some obscure corner, -while one of the papers indulged in a riot of adulation for the National -Council and another shrieked victory over the success of the revolution -which it had prepared. It wrote cynically about Tisza and sneered at his -widow. It referred to the King as Charles Hapsburg and proclaimed in its -columns the republic for Hungary. - -At last the Hungarian Liberal and Radical press has removed its mask and -displayed its countenance, which had never been Hungarian, in all its -nakedness. But to ponder these things was unbearable, and the reality -of our misfortune burdened my soul anew with anguish. How shall I tell -mother? I crossed the hall slowly, hesitatingly, and went to her room. -As soon as I opened the door she looked at me inquiringly, as though she -were expecting something. - -“Well, what has happened?” - -I searched for words to minimise the shock, and then, I don’t know how, -I blurted out: “Tisza has been murdered!” The words sounded sharp and -metallic, like the stroke of an axe when it fells a living tree which in -its fall clears a gap in the forest. - -I shall never forget the sudden, painful alteration in my mother’s -face. She, who always managed to look collected, lifted both hands to -her forehead. “What is to become of us?” she asked, in sobs rather than -words. I had never seen her in tears before, and the grief that swept -over me almost stopped my breath: I was so unprepared for her sorrow that -I could utter no word of consolation. Silently I kissed her hand. Then -for a long time we remained silent. - -“How did it happen?” she asked at last, in a voice so weary that it was -as if she had travelled a great distance during our silence. - -“Soldiers ...” and I handed the papers to her. I glanced at the page -of one of them: these lines met my eyes: “... Glorious Revolution. The -National Council has taken over the government of Hungary.... Naturally -the constitution is no longer what it was. The King has handed all -his powers to Károlyi, so that he may maintain order in the land.” I -turned the page. “One detachment of soldiers after the other declares -its adherence to the National Council. The communal authorities have -submitted to the National Council. So have the Exchange, the railwaymen, -the men of the electric trams.... Count Julius Andrássy, the last common -Minister for Foreign Affairs, has resigned!” - -News followed news in a topsy-turvy way. Vienna—in Austria too the old -order has passed away. A Social Democrat called Renner has been made -Chancellor. The Social Democratic deputy, Victor Adler, has become -Foreign Secretary. - -I read further, then my eyes were arrested by a proclamation of the -National Council: “Our beflowered and bloodless revolution will bind the -nation with eternal gratitude to the men who have worked disinterestedly -at its reconstruction.” I looked at the end of the paper: a notice in -small type caught my attention: “Report of the General Staff: As early -as the 29th of October the Higher Command had established communication -with the Italian Commander in Chief”.... “Trieste has been occupied by -an English fleet”.... “The King has ordered that the Fleet, the naval -institutions and all other things pertaining to the Navy, shall be -gradually handed over to the local Committees of Zágráb and of Pola....” - -Every word of the papers strikes one in the face. Insult, shame and -degradation. And in face of this maddening conglomeration of defeats, of -this heartless report of Hungary’s collapse, there is Michael Károlyi’s -order: “The National Council orders that on the occasion of the people’s -victory, which has for ever abolished war, the whole of Budapest and all -provincial towns are to be beflagged.” - -My mother has thrown her paper aside. - -“Have you read the circular by which the National Council informs the -people of Hungary that Budapest has taken the power into its own hands -and that ‘not a single drop of Hungarian blood has been shed?’ Tisza’s -blood is not Hungarian blood in the eyes of Károlyi and his friends.” - -Even as she spoke, on the last page of one of the papers I came across -the following: - -“Count Stephen Tisza has been sacrificed to the cause of freedom...” - -“They hid that so carefully that I could not find it,” said my mother. - -I read aloud: - -“At the villa at 35 Hermina Road an officer and a civilian appeared on -the morning of the murder. They demanded admittance. Tisza received them -in his study. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, and the civilian answered: -‘Are you hiding that swine of a Czech attorney who is upholding the -accusation against me?’ ‘I don’t hide anybody,’ replied Tisza. - -“The strangers left hurriedly.... It is more than probable that they only -came to spy if Tisza was at home, because the rumour had spread in town -that he had left Pest!” - -Then followed a remarkably short and cynical account of the details of -the murder, every word of which showed clearly that the writer of the -article wanted to avoid anything that might raise pity or sympathy in -favour of the victim. The report continued: - -“During the day a thick crowd had gathered in the vicinity of the villa. -In the evening about a quarter past six eight infantrymen climbed over -the high railings of the garden and crept across the lawn to the house. -They entered by the back door. They quietly disarmed the police who were -in charge of Tisza’s safety, and penetrated into the hall. The footman -tried to stop them. Hearing the noise, Stephen Tisza, his wife, and his -niece, the Countess Denise Almássy, came out. Tisza held a revolver in -his hand. - -“The soldiers began by reproaching him: ‘We have been fighting five -years because of you.... You are the cause of the destruction of our -country!... You were always a scoundrel.’ Then they shouted at him to -put his revolver down. - -“‘I will not,’ said Tisza, ‘you are armed too.’ - -“‘Put it down,’ a tall, fair young man aged about thirty shouted. - -“‘I won’t.’ - -“‘Then let the women stand aside.’ - -“‘We will not,’ said they. - -“Tisza retired a few steps and put the revolver down. - -“‘Now what do you want?’ said he. - -“‘You are the cause of the war.’ - -“‘I know what the war has done to us, and I know how much blood has -flowed; but I am not the cause of it.’ - -“‘I have been a soldier for four years. Innumerable families have -perished because of your wickedness. Now you must pay for it.’ - -“‘I am not the cause of it.’ - -“‘Let the women stand aside!’ No answer. ‘It is you who have brought this -awful catastrophe about, and now the day of reckoning has come.’ - -“Three shots were fired. Tisza fell forward on the carpet. He was hit by -two bullets: one in the shoulder, the other in the abdomen. The third -grazed the cheek of Denise Almássy. - -“‘They have killed me,’ said Tisza; ‘God’s will be done.’ - -“While the victim was writhing in agony the soldiers hurried away. It is -not known to what regiment they belonged.” - -Thus far the reporter’s account. My mother looked at me interrogatively -for an instant and then shook her head sadly. - -“Something has been omitted from that account. It all sounds very -improbable. Hungarian soldiers don’t kill in the presence of women.” - -“It is a psychological impossibility,” I said; “such an account can have -sprung only from the imagination of a Budapest reporter. Soldiers from -the front would not talk politics if they wanted to kill. They might -have rushed in and stabbed Tisza, but such a cold-blooded, cowardly, -premeditated murder is not in the nature of Hungarians. It must have been -very different.” - -“However it was,” my mother sighed, “it is terrible to think that it -could happen. Poor Countess Tisza!” - -A short notice at the foot of the paper said something about her—Count -Michael Károlyi had sent her the following telegram: “It is my human -duty to express my deep sympathy over the tragical death of my greatest -political opponent.” - -My mother was horrified at this. - -“How could he be so shameless as to intrude like that!” - -Indeed, this impudence sounded like a sneer at Tisza’s memory, and in any -case it was wanton cruelty to the faithful, heroic woman who knew full -well that for many years Károlyi had with cruel hatred incited the masses -against her husband. - -The origin of this hatred was deep and irreparable, for it sprang -not from a divergence of ideas but from the physical disparities -which resulted from Károlyi’s infirmities. Michael Károlyi, a stunted -degenerate afflicted with a cleft palate, a haughty, hopelessly -conceited, spoilt and unintelligent child of fortune, could never forgive -the simple nobleman Tisza that he was gifted, strong, clean and healthy, -every inch a man, powerful, and in power. It was the hatred of envious -deformity for strength, health and success. Those about him, for ends -of their own, made capital out of this. Some of his satellites reported -several of his utterances on this subject. In fact Károlyi made no secret -of his hatred for Tisza. - -Many times he was heard to assert that he would not rest till he had -ruined him. Could he have done so, he would have sent his telegram of -condolence to the widow of his “greatest political opponent” at an -earlier date, namely when the discussion of the new standing order of the -Hungarian parliament took place. On that occasion he challenged the half -blind Tisza, who was about to undergo an operation, to a duel in the same -week when he, Tisza, had already fought two others, one against Count -Aladár Széchényi, the other against the Markgrave Pallavicini. On this -occasion Károlyi’s hatred was fanned to a white heat, for Tisza, a master -of fence, assessed his adversary no more seriously on the duelling ground -than in politics: he played for a little with him and finally thrashed -him with the flat of his sword till he collapsed. - -Idly I turned the paper. Another notice attracted my attention: “In the -name of the National Council Count Michael Károlyi, Dr. Joseph Pogány and -Louis Magyar order that on the first of November all theatres of Budapest -shall give gala performances.” - -Gala performances! Budapest and all Hungarian towns to be beflagged! And -Hungary struggling in agony and Stephen Tisza on the catafalque!... A -wave of indescribable bitterness swept over me. Oh! that I could escape -from it all and leave it far behind me! - -It was strange that at such a moment I could hear the hissing of the damp -wood in the fireplace and could see that Alback’s little old portrait was -hanging crooked on the wall. I got up and put it straight. Out of doors -the mist was drifting. Drops condensed on the window and trickled slowly -down. The mist was noiselessly shedding tears over miles and miles. - -When I left my mother’s room I met my brother Béla in the hall. He stood -with his back to me, staring fixedly out into the mist. His sword with -the belt twisted round it and his officer’s cap lay on the table. The -cockade of the cap was still in its place. - -I looked at him silently for some moments, and a deep pity filled me. He -too was one of the hundreds of thousands. For him it was even worse than -for us.... As a lieutenant of reserve he joined his regiment of lancers -on the first of August, 1914. Since then he had served with many branches -of the service, often in the infantry, till at last, after long years of -war, he was invalided home gravely ill from under Jamiano. On the banks -of the Drava, in Przemysl, the battle of Lemberg, the wintry Carpathians, -Besarabia, and that hell of rocks the Carso—the road of many Hungarian -deaths, of much Hungarian honour. He had traversed it from end to end. -And now he stood here, like an old man, looking into the fog, with his -sword lying idle. - -Only when I called him by name did he notice that I was in the room, and -as he turned I noticed that his coat dangled as if it were hanging on a -skeleton. - -[Illustration: COUNT MICHAEL KÁROLYI. - -(_To face p. 26._)] - -On his drawn face deep lines extended to the corners of his mouth. He -seemed highly strung and started to say one thing, then stopped and said -something else. “I started for town but could not stand the walk so I -came back.” While he spoke I felt that he was thinking of something else -all the time. Suddenly he collapsed into a chair, his elbows on the -table. “There, in Pest, deserters and demagogues. They have suspended -me, and shirking defeatists are the leaders and laugh at us. The new -government glorifies cowardice and dishonour. We have come to this. Why, -then, what was the good of it all?” Through his voice spoke the voice -of four years’ suffering, and a tear trickled down his pallid cheeks. -Suddenly he stretched out his thin hand for his cap, and looked eagerly -with bent head at the cockade on it. “They won’t tear mine off.” He -stopped abruptly and looked up to me: “You have heard what happened -yesterday in Hermina road?” - -“I know.” - -He got up and returned to the garden door, and motionless stared out into -the fog. - -In the evening a neighbouring farmer came over. He was a faithful old -friend of ours, and now, in his own simple way, he tried to give proof of -his devotion, as if to offer reparation for the wrongs we had suffered. -He asked us if we wanted any vegetables. “Just say the word, there are -a few left in our garden.” And his thoughtful kindness impressed me -more with the change that had taken place in our social order than any -annoying brutality of the street could have done. - -Then we talked of other things. He spoke of Tisza and told us with many -lamentations that they were still shooting in town, and that soldiers -terrorised the people from big motor lorries. One railway station had -been pillaged. Another was on fire, so a man told him who had just been -there. The military stores had been stormed by the mob. Barrels of petrol -were rolled into the street, smashed, and the petrol set on fire as it -poured out. - -Soon after the farmer left us, the door bell rang, and my brothers and -sisters came, one after the other, up the garden path. Whenever the door -was opened the mist floated in from the darkness like smoke, and the new -arrivals stamped on the mat for a moment or two to rid themselves of the -mud. Slowly we gathered round our mother like birds in a storm. - -A fire was burning in the hall, its light playing over the beamed roof, -glinting here and there from the oak staircase which rose high against -the wall. It came and went, flared up a little, flickered, and then died -down. - -When daylight had disappeared from the mullioned panes of the window the -shaded lamp was lit on the round table. My mother prepared tea, just as -if things were as they used to be, when we came home chilled. Then she -sat down in her usual place, in the corner of the green velvet couch. -Above her, on the wall, was a fine old etching. It was an old friend of -my childhood, full of stories—_Le garde de chasse_. How I loved to look -at it on Sunday afternoons when it hung in my grandmother’s room! Since -then its old mistress had gone, so had her room—indeed the very house had -been demolished. The picture alone remained. In the foreground on the -edge of a wood, with raised fists and a huge gun on his shoulder, stands -the aged keeper, in an old fashioned beaver and high shirt collar. Cowed -and cringing are two little children, who have been caught in the act of -stealing firewood. And now while the voices of my brothers were humming -in my ears I was struck by something I had never noticed before. How this -picture had gone out of date! Justice has altered. Nowadays the law of -“mine, thine, his” is proclaimed in a new shape. - -Thine—is mine, his—is ours! This is the teaching of the new leaders of -the people and the foundation of their power. For many thousands of years -the crowd has learned nothing with such ease, and nothing has ever made -it the slaves of its masters with greater speed. - -Involuntarily I glanced at the opposite wall. Another picture was over -the other couch: a cheap, coloured engraving of Ofen-Pest, the ancient -little town. People still passed across the Danube by the floating -bridge; in its narrow little streets real red, white, and green flags -were floating, and in their shadow Louis Kossuth and Alexander Petöfi -made a real war for freedom. How all this has changed! - -The kettle was singing, and from the fireplace a pleasant warmth, scented -with the smell of pine-wood, penetrated the room. The silver and the cut -glass shone on the white tablecloth. I sat snugly in the armchair. Here -things were still as of old, and I felt a glow of gratitude towards the -home which now was no more taken for granted but appeared as an island -amid the flood. - -Did the others feel this too? I looked round. All were unusually silent. -Now and then someone said a word which fell like a pebble in a silent -pond. Worry was written on all faces. During the long war, among the many -terrible misfortunes, I had never noticed despair in my family. We never -gave up hope. Our faith that Hungary would survive whatever happened had -never altered. - -“She has been betrayed!” And we returned to the fate of Tisza. We decided -between us that we would all go to his funeral. But when will it be? -Nobody knew. My mother had been sitting for a long time silently in her -corner when she said in a low voice, as if speaking to herself: - -“They killed him ... killed him. They knew what they did. They have -bereft the nation of its head.” - -We looked at each other. - -“And the guilty have escaped without leaving a trace.... At any rate, -they would not have been hurt—the triumphing revolution will provide -for all eventualities by a general amnesty.” My brother took up the -newspaper. “Have you read this? By request of the National Council -the Ministry of Justice has ordered by telegram that all those who -are arrested or imprisoned for high treason, lèse majesté, rebellion, -violence against the authorities or against private individuals, or -incitement to violence, should be released at once!” - -The new government could not have pronounced a graver indictment of -itself. This amnesty was a free confession of its ends, its means and its -guilt. From this moment Michael Károlyi and his National Council appeared -to us in the rôle of the accused at the bar of judgment. - -“Criminals,” said my brother-in-law. “Here in Pest they have anticipated -the ordinance. Two days ago they set free the Galileists accused of high -treason.” - -“It is said that Countess Károlyi herself went to fetch them.” - -“Yesterday they liberated in triumph all the deserters.... Only a few -hours before the assassination of Stephen Tisza a commission came -with the written order of the National Council to the jail to free -all political prisoners, and as the order put it, “all deserving -prisoners.” The first to rush out of the prison was Lékai-Leitner, the -man who recently made an attempt on Tisza’s life. He addressed a speech -to the assembled mob and explained without being interfered with why -the principal contriver of the war, Tisza, should be killed. “Let him -perish!” he shouted, and the mob cheered while he, protected by the -police, incited his comrades in the street to murder.” - -“Károlyi’s National Council must have known of that. Yet they did nothing -to protect Tisza. A few hours later his assassins could destroy him -without fear of interruption.” - -I thought of Marat’s saying to Barbaroux: “Give me four hundred assassins -and I will make the revolution.” ... Into the hands of what a crowd -have fallen the fates both of our country and ourselves! High treason -and rebellion are no longer crimes, violence is lawful, incitement to -it permissible. Assassins can exercise their trade without punishment, -and there is no place where one can claim justice. I staggered under -the confusing thoughts. I seemed to have lived through something like -this once before. Many years ago, on a hot, close summer night, I was -awakened by a violent shock. The room swayed, the house tilted backwards -and forwards, everything tottered, cracked, collapsed. An earthquake! -And when I wanted to grasp something it gave way, moved from its place; -nothing seemed firm.... “Let us fly!” ... A mad voice shouted it through -the night.... Fly? On such occasions there is no place whither flight is -possible; for miles and miles the earth quakes. - -Presently, in order to encourage my mother, I said aloud: - -“Everything is not lost yet. The troops will come back from the front. -They will restore order. Those who have fought there will not tolerate -the rule of deserters and shirkers at home.” - -“Unfortunately Károlyi’s agents have gone to meet them at the front,” -said my brother-in-law. “And they have taken with them an ample supply of -the government’s newspapers.” - -Meanwhile out of doors the fog became as dense as if a morass had swollen -up in the valleys. It clung about the windows and coated the panes. My -brothers and sisters prepared to go. When we took leave we agreed that as -we could hope at any rate for a little more safety in town than here, we -would move in as soon as we could procure the necessary vans. The villa -stood in a lonely spot among abandoned houses; only my sister Mary, and, -on the other side of the ravine, the farmer, lived on the hill besides -ourselves. And the woods were full of vagabonds. - -“It will be safer....” - -“It will be equally unsafe everywhere in Hungary,” I said while I put my -coat on to accompany them a short distance. - -When we reached the bottom of the hill shots broke the silence. Rifles -answered them, and their echo rolled on between the hills. A white dog, -frightened to death, rushed past me like an arrow, his tail between his -legs, and his ears pressed tightly back. The caretaker of one of the -empty villas, an old Swabian gardener, stood in the gate, smoking his -pipe and watching the road. - -“Himmelsakrament!... The Russians have escaped from the prisoners’ camp, -that’s what people say in the shop. Goodness knows what is going to -happen to us....” - -“False alarms,” I said as I passed. - -The firing increased every moment. - -“Mother will fret,” said my sister Mary. We took leave of the others and -turned back. - -Beyond the Devil’s Ditch, where the road starts up the hill, two bullets -whistled over our heads. They must have come from the bushes near by, for -we could smell the powder. In front of us a human form emerged from the -fog. “That one went too low,” he muttered. “God guarded me so that it -missed me.” The stranger had a big collar and wore a soldier’s cap. He -might have been a non-commissioned officer. “Can one get newspapers down -there by the electric tram?” he asked, touching his cap. - -“No, they don’t sell papers to-day.” - -The man turned back, and, leaning heavily on his stick climbed the hill -slowly behind us. He never spoke, but sighed now and then, and one of his -boots tapped curiously on the pavement. Through my thoughts I had heard -the tapping for some time before I realized that the poor fellow had an -artificial leg. - -“It was all in vain,” he exclaimed unexpectedly, and his voice sounded -even duller than before. I could not see his face, but somehow I felt -that this man with a wooden leg was weeping in the dark. That made me -think of my brother, and of the others, the cripples, the blind, the -sick, the maimed, who all say to-day with a lump in their throat: “it was -in vain....” - -When I reached our garden another shot passed over my head. I pressed -myself against the trunk of a tree and waited a little. I seemed to hear -my heart beating in the tree. The danger passed by and I went on. The -lighted windows of the house shone gently upon the path and beckoned to -me, just as they had done the day before, just as they had done on any -day when my steps took me home. - -When I entered the house I found boxes and trunks in the hall, and my -mother was packing. She was putting boxes tied with lilac ribbon into the -trunks, her own dear old belongings which she had treasured with so much -love throughout a long life. Indefatigable, she went to and fro. She bent -down, brought another object, never complaining and astonishingly calm. - -Meanwhile the fire on the hearth went out, and the sticky air of the -night penetrated through the shutters. The dining-room had become very -cold too. We did not dare to make fires: our wood in the cellar was -running short and should we fail in our attempt to hire a van, who knew -how long we might have to stay here? - -Later on I went up into my room and collected my papers. All the time -I could hear my mother’s steps down below: it was a step that I could -recognise among a thousand others. It always sounds as though she drags -one of her feet slightly, but she does not do so really, it only sounds -like it, and it gives her gait a kind of swaying rhythm. I love to hear -it, for it always reminds me of my childhood. Whenever I dreamed anything -frightful in my little truckle bed that step would come slowly across -the room, and even before it reached me all that was terrifying had -disappeared. - -On the ground floor a cupboard was opened: the noise sounded like a sigh; -then drawers were gliding in and out. Beyond the garden the dogs barked. -Now and then violent outbursts of firing rent the hills. But even then my -mother’s steps never stopped. I could hear them passing quietly backwards -and forwards between the trunks in the hall and her room. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - - _Dawn of November 2nd._ - -It was long after midnight before my mother’s door closed. I hung a -silk handkerchief over the lamp so that its light might not be seen -from outside and then I went through the letters accumulated on my -writing-table. Suddenly a bell rang in the hall. The telephone.... Who -could call so late? What has happened? I ran quickly down the stairs. An -unfamiliar voice spoke to me from the unknown. A terrified, strange voice: - -“Save yourself! The Russian prisoners have escaped from their camp. Three -thousand of them are coming armed. They kill, rob and pillage. They are -coming towards the town. They are coming this way....” - -“But....” I wanted to express my thanks, but the voice ceased and was -gone. It must have gone on, panting, to awaken and warn the other -inhabitants of lonely houses. For an instant my imagination followed the -voice as it ran breathless along the wires in the night and shouted its -alarm to the sleeping, the waking, the cowardly, the brave. It comes -nameless, goes nameless, waits for no thanks, flies on the torn wings of -shattered, despised human fellowship. - -The Russians are coming.... - -I stood irresolute for a time in the cold passage. What should I do? -Every moment life seemed to present new problems. From the dark hall -I listened for any sound from my mother’s room and looked to see if a -light appeared under her door. But all was in darkness. Should I call -her, tell her? What good would it be? I walked slowly up the stairs. -There was no sound from the room of my brother, who was very ill. They -both sleep.... It is better so. At any rate, it would be impossible for -us to descend that soaked, slippery mountain path in the night. And if -we could, where should we go? Fly? They said that when there was an -earthquake. But where can one find shelter when the earth is quaking -everywhere? - -When I reached my room I breathed more freely. The lamp was alight, so at -least I was spared the addition of more darkness to that already in my -heart. - -From the covered lamp a ray like that of a thief’s lantern fell on -the table. I sat down in front of it and rested my head in my hands, -a dull weariness behind my brow. It was some time before I overcame -this lassitude, and then four words formed themselves on my lips: ‘The -Russians are coming....’ The past was stirred, and I remembered the day -when I had first heard those words.... - -Hungary did not want war. When it came she faced it honourably, as she -had always done for a thousand years.... In their black Sunday best -peasants went through the town. The heels of their high boots resounded -sharply on the pavement.... Young women in bright petticoats, with tears -in their eyes, walked hand in hand with their sweethearts, from whom -they were about to be parted; old women in shawls, with their handsome -sons. Then—the Russians are coming!... That was all that was said. But -those four words foretold an immense upheaval, coming from the North. The -greater half of Europe, part of mysterious dark Asia, moved from their -ancient abodes and with a sea of guns and rifles rushed on towards the -Carpathians to devour Europe. They poured like an avalanche over the -mountain passes, while Humanity held its breath. Such a battle of peoples -had never been before. - -Years went by. On the Russian fields and swamps, along the Volga and the -Don, from the Urals to the Caucasus, on the endless plains of Asia, the -nations that had risen in arms were bleeding to death. The empire of the -White Czar had bled to death, and that which was left of it became Red, -dyed in its own blood.... - -Summer had come many times since the tragic summer of 1914 when the first -boys went who never came back again. Dear features now still in death, -playmates of my childhood, dead friends of my youth. At the foot of -Lublin, on the fields of Sanatova, in the Dukla Pass, among the Polish -swamps, in Serbian land, at the Asiago, everywhere flowed blood which -was akin to mine. Dead shoots of my ancestral tree! And as you went, so -did others too, from year to year, without reprieve. Then the call came -to the school-rooms and to the sunny corridors where the aged basked, -resting before the eternal rest, from the labours of life. - -There was practically not a man nor a youth left in the villages. The -black soil was tilled by women, and women gathered the harvest. - -Springs were conceived in pain. Summers brought forth their harvests in -tears. In the autumnal mists the withered hands of tottering old men held -the plough as it followed the silver-grey long-horned oxen. A carriage -might travel many miles without passing a single man at work in the -fields. All were under foreign skies—or under foreign soil, while the -panic-stricken towns were invaded by hordes of Galician fugitives. A new -type of buyer appeared in the markets, on the Exchange. The Ghetto of -Pest was thronged. Goods disappeared and prices began to soar. Misery -stalked with a subdued wail through the land, while the new rich rattled -their gold impudently. A part of the aristocracy and the wealth-laden -Jewry danced madly in the famished towns, amidst a weeping land. - -Now and then dark news came from the distant tempest of blood. Now and -then flags of victory were unfurled and the church bells rang for the Te -Deum. One morning the flags were of a black hue, and the church bells -tolled for death: The King is dead!... Long live the King! - -[Illustration: KING CHARLES. - -_Photo. Kosel, Vienna._ - -(_To face p. 36._)] - -The old ruler closed his eyes after a long watch, and the reins of the -two countries fell from his aged hands. In Vienna: an imperial funeral -and imperial mourning; in Buda: a coronation shining with the lustre of -ancient gold. The clouds had broken! With his veiled, white-faced wife -the young King passed like a vision through his royal town. - -But it was all a dream. The King was in a hurry. In vain did his people -proffer their devotion at the gate of his castle: he was incapable of -grasping the moment, and departed before he had gathered this royal -treasure. So the wind scattered the despised love of the nation. -Something froze under the Hungarian sky, and in chilled soberness the -morrow dawned. - -In those times the winters were cold in Hungary. They froze one to the -marrow as they had never done before. There was scarcely any fuel. -Along the walls of the houses in Pest, children, girls, and old people -thronged at the entrance to the coal merchants. They sat on the edge of -the pavement, shivered and waited. At the horse-butchers, at the communal -shops, in front of bakers’, and dairymen’s, long rows of sad women waited -from dawn till late into the night. Quiet, patient women ... waiting.... -Everybody was waiting—for life, for death, for news, for somebody to -return. The hospitals were overcrowded, and all through the land, from -one end to the other, the roads resounded with the wooden clatter of -crutches. - -That was the once happy Hungary! But hope and honour were still alive. -Our war was a war of self-defence. Perhaps we, of all the combatants, had -nothing to gain, had no ambition to take anything from any other country. - -But our corrupt politics had lost a greater struggle than a battle. -Personal hatred and envy brought about the downfall of Stephen Tisza, -and the helm came into inexperienced hands. The power which had steered -till then ceased to be, and while men of the Great Plain, Transylvania, -Upper Hungary and West Hungary were away on the distant battle-fields, -in honour bound, something happened in the crowded capital of the empty -country. - -Traces of the silent, clandestine work of undermining became gradually -perceptible. But before its threads could be clearly defined they faded -away and were absorbed by daily life. In the background, as on a stage, -sinister shapes passed. From the sides invisible prompters whispered, -and in the foreground there appeared a figure which day by day grew more -distinct. This figure kept repeating, louder and louder, the secret -promptings, as though they were his very own. - -That man was Count Michael Károlyi. - - * * * * * - -I shivered as I pondered these things. Then some noise outside -interrupted my thoughts and I remembered the night’s warning.... Hours -may have passed since I sat down at my writing-table. The light of my -shaded lamp fell in a narrow wedge on to the sheet of paper in front of -me, my head was still between my hands. - -What was that?... Again the same noise. Then suddenly with relief I -realized what it was. Near my window some mortar from the tiles had -rolled from the roof into the gutter, quietly, like a shiver passing over -the lonely house. I listened for some time, then I buried my face again -in my hands and my thoughts wandered back by the path of recent events, -picking up on the way fading memories which had been thrown to oblivion. - -The picture of our great past was grand and full of dignity. Details -stood out. Scenes gained colour. The expression of people’s faces became -clearer, and now and then one could look behind the veil of things. That -which was far away had become history, whereas the present was warm, -throbbing, human life. - -How did it happen? And when? At the time train after train was rolling -across Hungary, long military trains, carrying the troops from the freed -Russian frontier towards the Italian and French fronts. The end of the -war had never seemed nearer. The hope of victory carried all hearts with -it. Even the prophets of evil portent became mute, and the possibility -of an honest peace appeared like a mirage on the horizon. The frontiers -of Hungary will not change: that was our only condition of peace—we have -never wanted anything else. And then the road will be clear for the -second thousand years. - -But then, all of a sudden, a shining blade seemed to pierce the air. -There was a flash of light, and the light lit up a new wound. What had -happened. Who had caused it? - -In the first days of January some people unknown had introduced -revolutionary literature into the arsenals and munition factories. -“Workers!... Brethren!... Soldier-brothers!... Not a penny, not a man -for the army!” Those who had an opportunity of reading these pamphlets -could have no doubt that they were produced by people who were opposed -to Hungary’s interests. What we imagined in horror had become a reality. -A foe was in our midst and was attempting to achieve here what he had -failed to accomplish on the other side of the front. Who are the guilty? -The nation, fighting for life, clamoured indignantly for the mask to -be torn off them. And when the mask was torn off they stood there in -the light, with blinking eyes, caught in the act: a pseudo-scientific -organisation of the Freemasons,[2] the International Freethinkers’ branch -of Hungarian Higher Schools, and the Circle of Galilee with its almost -exclusively Jewish membership. - -Others, who were equally implicated, withdrew suddenly into the obscurity -of the background. As far as he was concerned, however, Michael Károlyi -thought caution superfluous. He continued to remain in the foreground of -the scene; and though doubtful strangers sneaked through the entrance of -his palace, nobody interfered with him. Even the police left him alone, -though it knew full well that when the revolutionary documents were drawn -up he had been in close contact with the Galileist youths, and had even -spent many hours in their office. He was observed from a neighbouring -house. But invisible powers protected Michael Károlyi, and it was said -that his confidential friends in official positions always informed him -in time when his position was becoming dangerous. - -Public opinion became nervous in those times, and waited with impatience -for retribution. The headquarters of the Galilee Circle was sealed up -by the police. Arrests were made. Then the names of some of the accused -reached the public through the doors of the secret court—names with -a striking sound. Even now I remember some of them: Helen Duczynska, -Theodor Singer-Sugár, Herman Helfgott, Csillag-Stern, Kelen-Klein, Fried, -Weiss, Sisa, Ignace Beller, and about three more Russian Jews, among -them a prisoner of war called Solom, who possessed a multiplicator. -There wasn’t a single Hungarian among them. Obscure foreign hands had -fumbled at our destiny! But nobody spoke of that. And yet the very names -of the arrested Galileists were an indication of future events. Alas! -the Hungarian nation has never known how to interpret the future by the -warnings of the present. - -The trial of the Galileists came to an end: the court martial inflicted -two remarkably lenient sentences and acquitted the rest. That was all. -Then there followed silence, a silence similar to the one which in the -autumn of 1917 hid Károlyi’s journey to Switzerland and stifled the -whispers that he had betrayed there to the French the German offensive -which was preparing and had hobnobbed with Syndicalists and Bolshevists. -Only when the sailors of Cattaro revolted was there another commotion. -Notwithstanding the secrecy of the army command, rumours got about. The -batman of a high officer brought a letter sewn in the lining of his coat. - -Down there in the Gulf of Cattaro the fleet had mutinied. Michael Horthy, -the hero of the Novarro, suppressed the rising and saved the fleet for -the Monarchy. But in the embers of the extinguished fire the army command -found curious footprints. It was alleged that two telegrams of the -mutineers were intercepted. One was addressed to Trotski, the other to -Michael Károlyi. - -And again, nothing was done! Political consideration.... Great names are -involved.... The King won’t have it.... The time is not propitious.... - -It was about this time that I reminded Count Stephen Tisza of a letter -which I had received through Switzerland in the autumn of 1914, and which -I had shown him at the time. The letter arrived approximately at the same -time as Michael Károlyi, whom mobilisation had found on French soil. -According to this letter the French had good reasons for sending Károlyi -home. _He was to be well rewarded if he did his work well ... he might -even become the President of the Hungarian Republic._ Stephen Tisza only -shook his head: “You see phantoms. It would be a pity to make a martyr of -him.” - -It was a long time ago. Much has become blurred since then, but I still -feel the bitterness of that moment. - -And all the other politicians thought as Tisza did. They did not take -Michael Károlyi seriously, because they did not see those who were behind -him. The attention of public opinion was absorbed by other things. Every -day life became more difficult, and far away in Brest-Litovsk peace -negotiations were going on. The delegates of the Russians dragged out the -negotiations cunningly, and the German command, losing patience, rattled -its sword at the council table. Meanwhile Bronstein-Trotski, the Foreign -Commissioner of the Soviet, addressed inciting speeches over the heads of -our delegates—to our soldiers, our workmen. - -At home these speeches created a curious stir. As if they had been a -signal the Jewish press of Hungary began to attack our German allies. -The “dispersed” Circle of Galilee organised a demonstration in front of -the German Consulate and broke its windows. The co-religionists of the -Trotskis, Radeks and Joffes organised strikes by means of the trade union -headquarters, which they had under their control. Thus did they support -the interests of their Russian friends and weaken the position of our -delegates. - -During the strike Michael Károlyi, walking one day with his wife in the -city, met one of their relations who lived in the suburbs and asked -him anxiously, “Are the people rising out there?” The negative answer -depressed them. “It does not matter.... The day has not yet come.... But -we shall not escape revolution.” - -Louder and louder came the whispers out of the darkness: we had come to -a phase when words could do the work. And words began to agitate: “Only -a separate peace can save us from the revolution.... We must leave the -Germans to their fate.... They are the cause of everything.... The war -goes on because of them.... Alsace Lorraine....” Invisible lips uttered -these things with persistent consistency. Unknown voices spoke to those -who repeated their sayings. And far away from the fields of battle, -in the country’s capital, in the workshops and the barracks, quietly, -secretly, the earth began to quake. - -And yet the front was never stronger than at this period of the war. -After the Ukrainian and Russian peace, these were perhaps the last -moments which permitted us to hope for a possible peace, if only we -showed unity and resolution. But in these fateful days some mischievous -magic lantern flashed the picture of a weakening alliance with Germany, -of internal discord and risings, towards our adversaries, and these -pictures inspired them with new zeal. At home it became more and more -clear that we harboured men who ate the bread of our soil under the -protection of Hungarian soldiers, who drank the water of our wells and -slept peacefully, whilst putting forth every possible effort to make us -lose the war. - -If I remember rightly it was at this time that Károlyi’s political camp -began to spread the rumour that he had come into touch with leaders of -the Entente. Poincaré had once been the lawyer of the Károlyi family.... -Stories circulated. Others again knew that he had connections with -Trotski and that he had organised secret military councils in the smaller -towns round the capital. - -“The traitor!” - -While we in my family called him a traitor, the radical press raised him -to the dignity of a prophet, and the misguided masses saw in him the -saviour of the country. - -The freemasons, socialists, feminists and galileists stood behind him. -Some female members of his own family surrounded him like disciples and -repeated without discrimination everything he proclaimed. That which -would have brought a trooper to the gallows was freely said by Michael -Károlyi the officer. In the clubs gentlemen shook hands with him, and -society thought it original and amusing that he should have called his -little daughter Bolshevik Eve. The haughty Count Károlyi, who would not -have offered a seat to his bailiff and who during the war—well behind -the front—refused to shake hands with infantry officers who came, -covered with blood and mud, from the trenches, because “_ils n’etaient -pas de famille_,” now declaimed about democracy and equality, and made -Bolshevism fashionable among his younger female relatives! - -In this inner circle his influence reached such ridiculous proportions -that a lady of his intimate acquaintance exclaimed in her democratic -zeal: “Oh, I do love the rabble!” His wife’s relations, following his -teachings, poked fun at patriotism, raved about the Internationale, and -wore some travesty of a dress because it had been dubbed “Bolshevik” -fashion. Of course it was “only in play,” but it was a dangerous game, -for it covered those who wore Bolshevik fashions in earnest. - -The young King was full of the best intentions. Perhaps he saw the -danger, but he drew back when he ought to have excised the source of -infection spread by Károlyi’s friends. In Austria he granted an amnesty -and released from prison the Czech traitors. The Austrian people, once so -devoted to their Emperor, became indifferent.... In Hungary he ordered -judicial proceedings to be commenced against the traitors, but did not -insist on their being carried out. Thus it happened that the Hungarian -people, in an agony concerning the fate of their country, felt themselves -forsaken and regarded their King with disappointment and bitter -reproaches; while the dark forces, gathering encouragement from this -eternal indecision, were emboldened to come out into the sunlight. Thus a -bloodless war against Hungary was started in Hungary. - -In the West the successful great German offensive shook for a time -the camp of destruction. The successes of our allies were received by -Károlyi with fear and trembling. His wife went into hysterics and his -confidential newspaper editor, Baron Louis Hatvany, exclaimed sadly in my -presence: - -“No greater misfortune can befall us than a German victory. Russian -Bolshevism is a thousand times preferable to German Militarism.” - -It was as if the earth had opened in front of me when I heard these -words. I remember my reply: - -“German militarism goes armed against armed men; Russian Bolshevism goes -armed against unarmed people. That may please you better. As for me, I -prefer militarism.” - -At this time the voice of the Hungarian Radical press was the same as -that of Baron Hatvany. The same press which at the beginning of the war -blackguarded our enemies shamefully, now wrote of them sentimentally. The -same papers which, when the Russian invasion was threatening, cringed -repulsively before the German power, now kicked the wounded giant -fearlessly. - -For Germany was stricken now. The offensive came to a standstill. -Contradictory reports spread. And while our enemies prepared with -burning patriotism for the sublime effort, underhand peace talk was -heard in Hungary, and Károlyi—through his friends—acclaimed pacifism and -internationalism. The Radical press was triumphant. Not content with -attacking the alliance it attacked that which was Hungarian as well. -Nothing was sacred. It threw mud at Tisza’s clean name. It derided all -that was precious to the nation. Base calumnies were spread about the -Queen. - -The overthrow of authority and of traditions are the necessary -preliminaries to the destruction of a nation. - -With such evil omens came the fifth summer of war, which brought the -fifth bad harvest. In the West, the German front retreated unresistingly. -In the East, the storm of the Russian Revolution was blowing over the -Carpathians. Our fronts were infected with Károlyi’s agitators. Those who -were caught paid the penalty. Yet there were enough well-paid poisoners -of wells who slipped through. Their work was easy: the West provided -gold, the East the example. The infection spread.... - -The collapse of Germany’s power, the many old sins of the Austrian -higher command, the catastrophe that befell our army at the Piave, the -bitterness for the disproportionate blood sacrifice of the Hungarians, -the anti-Hungarian spirit of the Austrian military element, the -endless squabbles of our politicians, the blindness of our impotent -government—all these served those who, to Hungary’s misfortune, aspired -to power. - -Bad news came fast. In Arad, in Nagyvárad, some detachments mutinied -and refused obedience. Revolutionary papers were found in the barracks. -In Budapest the working masses became threateningly restless; near the -communal food-shops and other stores the waiting crowd was no longer -patient and silent. I stopped often at the edge of the pavement and -listened to what they said. The shabby, waiting rows of tired people -struggled for hours between two wedges. In the shop the profiteers sucked -their life blood; in the street paid agitators incited them cunningly, -clandestinely against “the gentle-folk.” “It all depends on us how long -we stand it. After all we are the majority, not they.” - -The crowd approved and failed to notice that the Semitic race was -only to be found at the two ends of the queue, and that not a single -representative of it could be seen as a buyer among the crowding, the -poor, and the starving.... This was symbolical, a condensed picture of -Budapest. The sellers, the agitators, were Jews. The buyers and the -misguided were the people of the capital. - -A carriage passed in the middle of the road. A pale, sickly woman sat -in it. The waiting row of people growled angrily towards the carriage: -Cannot this one walk like everybody else? Unpleasant words were spoken. -I looked along the line. The agitators were there no more. But the -seed they had sown grew suddenly ripe. The people talked excitedly to -each other and shouted provocatively at those who wore a decent coat. -“Why should he have that coat? All that will have to change!” Envy and -hatred distorted the face of the street. A part of the press was already -inciting openly to class-hatred. - -The town was now on the eve of its suicide, and presently, like a -thunderbolt, there fell into the streets the news that the Bulgarian army -had laid down its arms! - -I well remember that awful day. It was the twenty-sixth of September. -Through the agitated, humming town I was going to the funeral of my -little godson. The streets were thronged with people. As they went along -they were all reading newspapers, and I noticed that they seemed to -stagger as if they had been stunned by some terrific blow. Harassed faces -rushed past me, and only here and there was some contrast perceptible. I -did not understand it until later.... - -Two Jews were talking to each other: - -“At last! _Beneidenswertes Volk_, these Bulgarians. They will get good -conditions! _Prima Bedingungen!_ And that is the beginning of peace.” - -They alone seemed to be happy.... And the sun glittered on the roof-tops -and there was something in the glowing brightness of the early autumn -which reminded me of the waking life of spring, when I had walked in the -same neighbourhood. When was it? I remembered with a pang. On the morn of -the victory of Gorlice did the sun shine thus, above the bright-coloured -waving flags. And through my tears I saw suddenly the little dead -golden-headed boy, the hope of his house: little Andrew Tormay.... He -came during the war, he smiled, and he was gone. His short life ended -with the last world-moving act. But was it the last? Or was it a new -beginning? - - * * * * * - -A cold shudder ran down my back. Merciful God, is it not enough? -Somewhere a cock crowed and roused me from my meditations. I took my -hands from my face and rose stiff from beside my table. The room had -become chilled during the long night. Between the slats of the blind -something was painting with a delicate brush rapid, cold blue lines -on the darkness. Dawn. I looked out for an instant into the damp, sad -half-light and tried to picture the morn. But the thoughts of the night -crowded upon me. - -Some time must have elapsed before I noticed that I was sitting on -the edge of my bed, rigid, dressed. A jumble of thoughts thronged my -brain.... Since the Bulgarian armistice life had been one continuous -series of shocks, and I remembered events only with gaps. Big pieces -were missing, then they started again.... Wilson! In those dark hours -this name still soothed our harassed souls. Disastrous illusion, -enticing nations into a death-trap! Peace ... peace! howled the voice -of this phantom behind the battlefields, attacking the still resisting -armies in the back. Peace!... Peace! it howled along the fronts. Then -in an aside it added: “There is no peace for you till you discard your -Emperor!” Meanwhile, in our midst, the camp of Count Michael Károlyi -studied cynically, as if it were a game, the guide-book of the Russian -Revolution. Tisza and Andrássy became reconciled. Too late, too late.... - -Then came a memorable day. Parliament sat on the 17th of October and the -Prime Minister announced the severance of all community with Austria, -except the personal union of the Sovereign. Too late, too late.... The -aspiration of centuries, the hope of generations, became a puppet. The -unity of the Empire, dualism, the common army, were feverishly thrown -overboard from the Monarchy’s drifting airship. The opposition laughed. -One deputy promised a revolution for March and turning toward Tisza spoke -of the gallows. - -“The parody of a revolution,” answered Tisza contemptuously. - -Károlyi rose to speak. The storm broke, and one of his hangers-on, -Lovászy, shouted at the House: “We are friends of the Entente!” - -This was the first open avowal of the treason which had been committed -for years by Károlyi’s party; the horror of it ran like a shudder through -the House, the city and the land, to pass on as a slavering mendicant to -our enemies. Those who were honest among us hurled the treason back at -the traitors, that it might brand the foreheads of those who in the hour -of our agony could offer their friendship to our destroyers. How could -the powers of the Entente feel anything but contempt and disdain for such -an offer! Their generals and politicians might make use of traitors, but -certainly they would not demean themselves by accepting their friendship. - -After this disgraceful sitting, in front of the very gate of the House -of Parliament, an attempt was made on Count Stephen Tisza’s life. Years -before a deputy called Kovács-Strasser, and now a certain Lékai-Leiter, -raised the weapon against him. - -On October the 22nd Tisza spoke for the last time in the Commons and -declared that we must stand by our allies. If we had to fall, let us -fall together, honourably. And then his voice, which never deceived and -never lied, told the unfortunate nation that: “We have lost this war!” -... Amidst breathless silence the sinister words rang through the country -and, like Death’s scythe, cut down all hope. - -“Tisza said so....” - -There was no more. And henceforth every new event was but another mortal -wound. Wilson sent a reply to the Monarchy which implored him for peace. -He would have no intercourse with us, and referred us to the Czechs, the -Roumanians and the Serbs. They wanted to humiliate us, and humiliate -us they did. But we still had an army, and we clung to the idea: the -Hungarian troops would come back from the front. - -Before we could recover our breath there came another stroke. On the -23rd of October a deputy of the Károlyi party shouted into the sitting -House of Commons that when the King had entered Debreczen the Austrian -National Anthem had been played. Nobody asked if the news were true. -The song of Austria’s Emperors in the very heart of the Great Hungarian -Plain! Always, even now? Have they not yet learned, will they never -forget?... Then Károlyi read aloud a telegram which turned out later -to be a forgery: the Croatian regiment in Fiume had mutinied!—Thus the -opposition possessed itself of two weapons. The reporters in the press -gallery jumped up at once and loudly supported Károlyi’s camp. The -impossible happened: in the Hungarian Parliament the Radical newspaper -men of the press gallery brought about the fall of the government! Tisza -looked angrily towards the gallery and made signs to the speaker. What -had become of his authority, the imposing of which had nearly cost him -his life? - -The storm passed by, and after this the ground gave way quickly under -the Hungarian Parliament. Wekerle resigned. All parties negotiated a -coalition. - -Meanwhile the King sat in council at Gödöllö, and it was about this time -that the shifty rabble which gathered in the night of the 22nd of October -at Károlyi’s palace and dubbed itself the National Council emerged from -darkness. The storm-troops of destruction, the Galileist Circle, came -again to the fore; headed by a flag which Károlyi had given them they -paraded the town and penetrated into the Royal Castle. The flag-bearer, -a medical student of Galician origin called Rappaport, stuck the flag -out of one of the castle’s windows and addressed the rabble in the court -yard. He blackguarded the King and called for cheers for Károlyi and the -Republic. - -Nobody attached any great importance to all this, and the town remained -indifferent: the incident was practically unknown beyond the streets -where the Galileists’ strange, noisy procession had passed. Through the -gate of Károlyi’s palace furtive people hurried in and out. Some said -that officers and men escaped from the front were hiding in the palace, -others whispered of secret meetings in the Count’s rooms. - -What was going on there? Nobody troubled about it, and the newspapers -wrote long articles about the Spanish “flu.” The epidemic was serious, -people met their friends at funerals, but the newspapers exaggerated -intentionally; they published alarming statistics and reported that the -undertakers could not cope with the situation: people had to be buried -by torchlight at night. The panic-stricken crowd could scarcely think of -anything else. The terror of the epidemic was everywhere, and the greater -terror which threatened, the brewing revolution, was hidden by it. The -press, as if working to order, hypnotised the public with the ghost of -the epidemic while it belittled the misfortunes of the unfortunate nation -and rocked its anxiety to sleep by raising foolish, false hopes of a good -peace, and gushed over Károlyi’s connections with the Entente. - -And so the big, unwieldy mass of citizens slid towards the precipice in -its sleep. - -There came an awful day. We learned that as the result of the insidious -propaganda of Károlyi’s agents and his press, a Hungarian division and -a Viennese regiment had laid down their arms.... It was through this -break that the forces of the Entente had crossed the Piave. Our forces -repelled them in a supreme effort. Then the English tanks came into play. -These were too much for the nerves of our men, whose discipline had been -slackened by several months’ intrigue. They mutinied, and it was reported -that in the confusion General Wurm was killed by his own men. - -In Budapest the papers which appeared were blanked heavily by the -exertions of the censor, but in the streets people already spoke openly -of the National Council and proclaimed loudly that one could take the -oath of allegiance to it at the rooms of Károlyi’s party. There was an -astonishing number of soldiers in the crowd. I noticed then for the first -time how many sailors walked the streets. Where did these come from? - -Next day was Sunday, October the 27th. I recollect clearly that I did not -leave the house. Within the last few days most of the inhabitants of the -villas in our neighbourhood had moved in haste in to the town. It was -quiet, and I pruned the shrubs in our garden. - -It was only through the newspapers that I learned what had happened. -Advised by Károlyi, the King had received at Gödöllö the day before the -Radical journalist Oscar Jászi and the two organisers of his party, -Zsigmond Kúnfi and Ernest Garami, both Socialist journalists. Károlyi’s -press was shouting victory, and having obtained all it wanted, it began -to see red and started to defame the King. Poor young King! The reception -was a sad and useless concession. These men were revolutionaries and -poisoners whose due was not an audience but a warrant of arrest. Even now -everything could have been saved, all that was wanted was a fist that -dared to strike. But the King’s beautiful hands, according to Jászi’s -report of the audience, only toyed nervously with his rings.... Their -Majesties went in the evening to Vienna. They left their children in the -royal castle and took Károlyi with them in the royal train. - -[Illustration: COUNT MICHAEL KÁROLYI AND HIS ENTOURAGE. - - Károlyi Böhm Pogány - -(_To face p. 50._)] - -The morning papers spoke of “Károlyi, the Prime Minister designate of -Hungary.” There was to be a monster meeting in town in front of the -House of Parliament. The workmen appeared in full force. Lovászy, Count -Batthyany, and “comrades” Garbai and Pogány made revolutionary speeches. -A group of workmen, to show their approval of these measures, carried -a gallows on which a doll dressed like Tisza in red hussar breeches -was suspended. In the evening the crowd went to the railway station to -receive Károlyi on his return from Vienna. - -Later in the day my brother Géza telephoned to me from Baden (near -Vienna); he had just come from General Headquarters. Archduke Joseph -and Michael Károlyi had come in the same train. The King had recalled -the Archduke from the Italian front and sent him as _homo regius_ to -Budapest. The Archduke obeyed, though he would have preferred to return -first to his troops and come back at their head to restore order in the -capital. The King, however, vetoed this plan. Two unfortunate blunders. -The Archduke arrived without backing, and Count Károlyi infinitely -offended in his vanity. The youths of the Galilee Circle were waiting for -the latter at the railway station, and he shook his long yellow hands in -the air and shouted: “I will not forsake Hungary’s independence.” - -Meanwhile worse and worse news reached us. We reeled under it, stunned. -Our inertia was folly. Everybody expected somebody else to do something, -and in the dark hours of our mad misfortune Károlyi’s National Council -alone became bolder. - -Then came the events of October 28th. A crowd which had gathered near -the rooms of Károlyi’s party, incited by the revolutionary speeches of -two factious orators, and led by Stephen Friedrich, a manufacturer, -started towards the Danube to cross over to the Royal Castle and claim -from Archduke Joseph the Premiership for Károlyi. “He alone can get us -a good peace!...” There was a crush at the bridge-head. The crowd used -the police roughly. Shots were fired. The police replied with a volley. -A few people fell dead on the pavement. That was exactly what the -organisers wanted. They shrieked wildly: “These martyrs will make the -revolution....” - -How many days ago did all this happen? I began to count. One, two, three, -four days in all. It seemed as though it had been much longer ago. Four -days!... What a gap between then and this day when Tisza lay dead and -with him much of Hungary’s honour! - - * * * * * - -The torture of these memories drove me into despair. An utter weariness -possessed me. I fell back on my bed. I wanted to rest, but against my -will impressions came crowding into my brain.... October 29th.... What -happened on that day? Detached images passed before me. Fields soaked -with wet.... A little, whitewashed cottage on the edge of a wood, a -tangled little garden, with ivy creeping over the paths and covering -the old trees. For years I have gathered my evergreens there for the -Day of the Dead. This year the little house has a new inmate. The old -people have gone and the new proprietor appeared frightened when I shook -the gate for admittance. Even after he had admitted me he looked at me -several times suspiciously. His name was Stern, or something of the sort. -While selling the ivy he spoke nervously: - -“This neighbourhood has become very insecure. Many deserters roam the -woods. They spend the night in the empty villas.” Then he asked me what I -wanted the ivy for. “The cemeteries will be closed this year on the Day -of the Dead. They are afraid of the crowds, because of the epidemic, and -then ... who knows what may happen if the King is obstinate and won’t -make Károlyi Prime Minister.” - -“I hope he never will....” - -The man looked at me angrily: - -“He must come, and so must the Socialists. They will save Hungary.” - -“It is odd that you should expect the salvation of the country to come -from those who denounce patriotism.” - -“I see things differently,” said the man. “That is just the trouble in -Hungary. They always talk of the country, the nation. There is no such -thing as a country and a nation. It is the same to me where I live, in -Moscow, in Münich or in Belgrade. It is all the same to me as long as I -live well. That is the thing we have to drive at, and it is only through -socialism that it can be attained.” - -“The ultimate end being communism?” - -“Later, sometime, some day, yes,” the man answered in a low voice. - -“And the Russian example? Do you think that what is going on there is the -realisation of human happiness?” - -“That is only the stage of transition.” - -“Transition which may mean annihilation.” - -Rain began to fall. It drifted in dense silver threads between the hills. -The cottage, its inhabitant and its garden disappeared from my memory. I -saw another picture. It was evening. My mother was sitting silently in -the hall, lit up by the shaded lamp, and, as she was wont to do every -year, she was winding the ivy wreath for my father’s grave. - -“It is better for him not to have lived to see this,” she said abruptly, -quite unexpectedly. - -I looked at her. It was as if her words had opened a gap through which I -could get a glimpse of her soul. I now knew that, though she never said -so, she was worried by premonitions. - -Later on my brothers and sisters came. They brought news. “It is said -that Archduke Joseph would be made Viceroy. The King has charged Count -Hadik to form a Cabinet. Károlyi’s agitators are making speeches in the -streets all over the town. There are great demonstrations. The printers’ -compositors have gone over to the National Council. Now the compositors -censor the papers themselves. Nothing is allowed to be printed without -the approval of the secretariat of the Socialist party. The workmen -of the arsenal have broken open the armouries. The police have joined -Károlyi’s National Council.... Down there at the Piave everything has -collapsed. There is mutiny in the fleet at Pola. In the plains of Venezia -the front has gone to pieces.” - -And all the while, my silent mother was making her wreath.... - -I remembered nothing more. The hours passed unnoticed. Where was I next -day? What did I hear? Memory was effaced. That day was the eve of the -31st of October.... Ah yes! In the afternoon we had a visitor. Countess -Rafael Zichy came from the Castle Hill though the town had ceased to be -safe. Yet she came and stayed late. The lamps on the roads had not been -lit and we had to light her down the misty dark hill with a lantern. I -was anxious to know if she reached home safely. My mother telephoned.... -So much I remembered, but I have no recollection of what we talked about -while she was here. - - * * * * * - -Dead tired, I closed my eyes. But the swift changing pictures passed in -restless fantasy.... Human figures chasing outlines ... bloodmarks ... -and the dead, white face of Stephen Tisza.... - -Shuddering, I opened my eyes. The night was over and day had come. And -then I remembered that the Russians had not come after all. We had -escaped that danger, but the rest was still there, encircling us and -holding us in captivity. - -A slight noise attracted me. It came from the lamp hanging from the -ceiling. A moth had got into the glass chimney and with tattered wings -was struggling vainly to escape. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - - _November 2nd._ - -The house stood amid a sad, grey morning. Through the fog a continuous -drizzle was heard in the woods, and along the road a muddy stream gurgled -in the broken gutter. The people in the electric trams going townwards -were just like the morning itself: grey, wet and sad. They spoke of the -mutiny in the Russian camp. - -“They have been disarmed”.... “Not at all, they have spread over the -country....” “They pillage in small bands, like the escaped convicts. -They too broke out on the news of the revolution. They captured a train -and came, all armed, towards Pest. On the way they fought a regular -battle, with many dead and wounded; the rest escaped.” ... “No, they did -not. They enlisted as sailors.” - -There was panic and confusion in all this talk, and nobody seemed to know -anything for certain. - -The tram turned round the foot of the hill. At the stopping place I -bought a newspaper. The papers were filthy, and the woman who sold them -did not take much heed of me; she was talking politics with a hawker who -sold boot-laces and moustache wax at that spot. - -“Give me the _Budapesti Hirlap_.”—But the paper which for the last ten -years had fought, practically single-handed, against the machinations of -the destructive press was not to be had. The woman thrust another paper -into my hand. The tram went on and I began to read. As if announcing a -glorious victory the head-lines proclaimed in immense type: “ON THE WHOLE -FRONT WE HAVE LAID DOWN OUR ARMS! IN CASE OF OCCUPATION WE HAVE ASKED FOR -FRENCH OR BRITISH TROOPS.” Something stabbed and tore my heart: Gorlice, -Limanova, Lovchen, Doberdo.... - -The newspaper continued: “Six weeks are needed for the conclusion -of peace.... The King has relieved the new government from its -allegiance.... The government has decided in principle for a Republic -and has extended its programme by this condition.... The Government -has sworn allegiance to the National Council at the Town Hall ... the -touching scene, which buried a past of a thousand years, passed amidst -indescribable enthusiasm.” - -Our arms laid down! Foreign occupation! The King has relieved the -perjurers! A republic in Hungary! And one of the most important papers -in Hungary writes of all this as if it were the accomplishment of long -cherished hopes, as if it rejoiced that “the past of a thousand years” -had been buried! Not a word of sympathy, of consolation. - -Then something suddenly dawned on me: in this paper a victorious race -was exulting over the fall of a defeated nation! And the defeated, the -insulted nation was my own!... So they hated us as much as all that, -they, who lived among us as if they were part of us. Why? What have we -done to them? They were free, they were powerful, they fared better -with us than in any other country. And yet they rejoiced that we should -disappear in dishonour, in shame, in defeat. - -I threw the newspaper away—It was an enemy. - -We came to the Pest end of the bridge. The tram stopped, and I wanted to -change. “The trams are not running. You can walk,” growled the inspector. -The walls are covered with posters, orders, announcements, proclamations. -On a big coloured poster: “Lukasich has been appointed executioner.” -And under the announcement the execution of a soldier was depicted. As -I walked along my eyes gleaned a sentence from another poster: “People -of Hungary, soldiers, workers and citizens!” (The order of the words -was significant; but it did not appear to strike people’s imagination). -“Fellow-citizens! Glory, honour and homage to the victorious people of -Budapest. The people’s revolution has conquered” ... and the signature: -“The First Hungarian Popular Government.” Then another sentence: “The -military and civil power is in the hands of the head of the Hungarian -Popular Government, Michael Károlyi.” Many words, many black words. I -read the last words of the Popular Government’s Proclamation: “To assure -the transition from the present conditions to a quiet peaceful life, we -organise Soldiers’ Councils and a National Guard so that ETERNAL PEACE -may gain its healing sway over us all.” - -Red and white blotches of paper and alternate signatures: Heltai, -Commander of the Garrison, Linder, Commander-in-Chief. - -Linder? I never heard this name during the war. And yet it seemed -familiar to me. Then I remembered. I met him at a social gathering, and -once at an afternoon tea. On both occasions he seemed under the influence -of drink. That was the reason I noticed him, otherwise his insignificance -would have wiped him out of my memory. Now I seemed to see his face. He -gave me the impression of an elderly stage swashbuckler. His well-groomed -hair was grey, his shoulders high, his neck thick-set, his face -congested; his tiny grey eyes winked all the time, and when he laughed -they disappeared entirely. Linder.... Can this stage swashbuckler be the -new Minister of War? - -I now noticed that more and more people hurried past me, and that all -were going towards the House of Parliament. A crowd was gathering in -the big, beflagged square. People dressed in black, officers in field -uniform, poured from the neighbouring streets. Some mounted police -arrived. Then came a military band. A military cordon was formed in the -centre. - -“What is happening here?” I asked a woman who stood aimlessly among the -loafers on the kerb. - -“I don’t know.” A young man, who might have been in her company, answered -for her: “The officers of the Garrison are swearing allegiance to the -National Council.” - -“There are crowds of them,” said the woman, and moved her neck like a -duck in a pond. The young man laughed with contempt. “There may be four -hundred.” His accent seemed to proclaim him from Transylvania. - -Motor cars rushed past me. Overhead, aeroplanes were circling and -strewing leaflets among the crowd: “The glorious revolution! The people -have conquered!” Leaflets on the ground, leaflets in the gutter, leaflets -everywhere. - -The great grey mass of the House of Parliament hid the Danube from our -sight like a petrified lace curtain. On its walls the ancient coats of -arms of various counties, the monuments of past Kings, appeared and -disappeared in the mist like a dissolving view. At the sides of the -building the square extended to the river, and the ghostly outlines -of a bronze figure on horseback stood out against the background of -mist-covered Buda: the statue of Andrássy, the great Minister of Foreign -Affairs. In the haze it seemed that the rider moved, as though he wanted -to turn his steed and ride away to the sound of brazen horse-shoes, -back along the banks of the Danube, to see if the river had changed its -course—the river which had imposed upon the lands between the Black -Forest and the Black Sea the alliance which he had written on paper. -Had it left its bed, had it dried up, that great Danube, the ancient -zone across Europe’s body, that some man should be so bold as to tear up -the scrap of paper which confirmed the bond? Mist rose over the yellow -waves. The poisoned town threw its image across a veil into the river and -poisoned its waters. And the stream carried the poison, and perhaps by -to-morrow the lands it crosses may already writhe with internal pains. - -To-morrow.... Everything is lost in a mist. Round the square the houses -showed their many-eyed faces through a haze. Below, the rain-covered -asphalt pavement shone, reflecting the people who stood upon it. In the -windows of the houses, on the stone steps of the House of Parliament, -between two stone lions, more people. I looked at my watch. It was eleven -o’clock. Another motor car dashed up, there was some cheering in the -centre of the square, and the figure of a man rose above the crowd. He -stood on the steps of the House of Parliament in a dark overcoat, a -bowler-hat on his head, a glaring red tie round his neck. - -[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT. - -_Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 58._)] - -The Minister of War. He began to wave his hat over his head as if -attempting to catch an elusive butterfly. I caught a few of his words. -He spoke with a lisp and stuttered slightly. “Soldiers, I expect -discipline.... We have faithfully done our duty on the field of -battle.... We suffered and we fought.... We imagined that the ideals we -fought for were worth while.... I, your responsible Minister of War, -declare that these ideals were false!” - -I thought he would be knocked down for saying that. Four hundred -officers. Just enough.... - -“There is a new order of things,” ... shouted Linder. The short woman -next to me jerked her neck and complained: “I can’t hear anything.” -The slim young man, in his thin shabby overcoat, stretched his neck to -listen: “He says that we have not been beaten. We have won, the sovereign -people has won. We have conquered that false system....” - -“I can’t understand,” said the woman excitedly. - -We could hear Linder’s voice: “When we had beaten the Russians and there -was no more question of national defence, we had to go on fighting for -imperialistic, militaristic, egotistic ends....” - -“Aha,” said the woman, and was bored. - -The voice in the middle of the square continued to shout: “But perhaps we -ought not to grumble that this war has lasted so long. We had to demolish -the tyranny of a thousand years, the tradition of a thousand years, the -servitude of a thousand years.” - -He, too, gloats over the destruction of a thousand years. What is the -matter with this town? - -Some straggling cheers resounded and a few caps were raised. Then the -square became mute, for the hat of the Minister of War began to wave -again in the air. His face became purple with the effort, and his voice -sounded shrill. Words came, and he said: - -“I never want to see a soldier again!” - -For a moment these words passed above my comprehension. Then they came -back and drummed in my brain. I could not believe my ears. I must have -misunderstood him. It seemed impossible that a sane person should have -said such a thing. The Minister of War of the government which had -broken up the front under the pretence that Hungary was in need of -Hungarian troops for the defence of Hungarian frontiers! No, it was more -than ever impossible now when the Serbians were marching towards us and -Wilson’s message had delivered us up to the rapacity of Czech, Roumanian -and Yugoslav ambitions. Only the voice of dementia or sublime criminality -could speak such words. What made him say it? But he is drunk. Is it not -visible on his face? Do not people see how he sways and grins? His tongue -has slipped, he is going to withdraw his words. No harm has been done as -yet. The people have not grasped his horrible meaning, his venomous words -can be snatched back from the air. - -Near Linder a long sallow face began to nod. Károlyi stood on the steps. -At his shoulder appeared a puffy, olive coloured face: Oscar Jászi, -Károlyi’s prompter. So there they are too, listening to all this, and -Károlyi nods and Jászi smiles, confirming, ratifying the awful words. - -But the officers of the garrison are there! There may be about four -hundred, perhaps more, all soldiers, all armed, all men. They will not -stand it, they will rush at the Minister of War, catch hold of him by his -red tie and string him up to the nearest lamp post like a depraved beast. -My heart was hammering, and for a moment I had to turn away. It would not -be a pleasant sight, and after this who will keep the army in hand? Who -will take up the arms that are to be thrown away? He proclaims anarchy! -He does not want to see any soldiers.... And within the cordon cheers are -raised! - -“Take the oath!” shouted Linder. Even then I had hope. Surely something -must happen. The men will suddenly regain consciousness. In 1848 the -Imperial High Commissioner Lambert was stabbed to death by the crowd on -the floating bridge, though what was that foreigner’s guilt compared with -the guilt of these Hungarians? Surely they cannot remain quiet like this? -They are going to tear him to pieces. A hundred naked fists—why perhaps a -single one could do it.... Oh for that ONE, gracious God! - -[Illustration: “KÁROLYI STOOD ON THE STEPS.” - -(_To face p. 60._)] - -Within the military cordon the officers of the garrison stood in a row, -stood there and took the oath. The soldiers of the King swore obedience -to Michael Károlyi’s National Council. - -A burning sense of shame rose within me. And then, suddenly, something -seemed to open my eyes, and I saw beyond men and events. Those officers -in the square could not be, all of them, deserters and hired traitors. -Surely there were some among them who had taken an honourable share in -the tragic Hungarian glory of the war, who had suffered just as I had. -They were soldiers, and as if it were a dishonour to be so, that fellow -dared to tell them to their face that he did not want to see soldiers any -more. And these words will run all over the town, and to-morrow they will -be racing across the country and will reach the frontiers where they will -lie in wait for the armed millions returning from the front. - -Some vile spell, the dazzle of some occult charm, held the crowd -fascinated and cowed all into a lethargy of terror. What power could -it be? Whence did it come? What was its end? For neither Károlyi, nor -Linder, nor Oscar Jászi possessed that demoniacal influence which crushes -will power and opposition, makes cowards of brave souls and drags -honour in the dust. This force did not rise to-day or yesterday; it is -the result of thousands of years of savage hatred and bestial will for -power, a monster begotten in obscurity, which, safe from attack, has -spread across the globe, waiting its opportunity, setting its snares with -cunning, watching for the hour when it can strangle its victim as with a -rope. - -And now it will strangle us too! Our time has come! - -I shuddered in my helpless solitude amidst the crowd that blackened the -square, where men suffered everything, cheered the negation of their -existence, and pledged themselves to their own destruction. - -The sound of trumpets rose. The military band struck up a tune. What was -it?... My heart nearly stopped beating when I realised what it was. The -great revolutionary song of a strange people rose above the square, the -national anthem of a nation which had been our enemy during the war, -which led on the revengeful victors who were preparing to trample us -beneath their feet. A hymn of rebellion, which they play in the beflagged -towns on the banks of the Seine and the Marne to proclaim their victory, -a tune which means glory to them, humiliation to us. If the French nation -had succumbed to German arms, would they play this day _Deutschland, -Deutschland über alles_ on the Place de la Concorde? - -To what depth have you sunk, Hungarian men? I set my teeth and pressed -my suffering down into my heart. And the grandiose strains of the -Marseillaise floated over my head. Their beauty I heard not. To me the -notes were but the guffaws of a scornful melody that roared derision over -the square. The clarions sounded brazen yells of contempt, the rolling of -the drums emphasised their mockery, and the cymbals applauded—applauded -our defeat.... And the crowd cheered Károlyi. - -The soldiers went back to the City. The interrupted traffic thronged -over the shining asphalt. Carriages drove by. Small groups vanished in -the distant streets. Slowly the square became empty. A few constables -remained on duty in front of the House of Parliament; people waited at -the stopping place of the tram. The woman with the duck’s neck and the -Transylvanian youth were there too. We waited. - -The House of Parliament relapsed into its grave silence. The bronze -figure of the horseman near the shore was invisible. Had it gone, was it -still there? I hesitated. There, on the other side, towards the bridge, -near the river, the embankment was bare. There never had been a statue -there. But the wraith of a giant whose blood was spilt on October 31st is -slowly groping his way towards it. His chest is pierced by a bullet, his -heart’s blood has flowed away. He goes slowly, but he will get there—when -the day comes. - -The Transylvanian young man and the woman near me were both staring at -the shore. I had no intention of speaking aloud yet I said: - -“That is where Stephen Tisza’s monument is going to stand.” - -[Illustration: SOLDIERS TAKING THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO KÁROLYI’S -NATIONAL COUNCIL. - -(_To face p. 62._)] - -The woman was horribly frightened. “Please, don’t say things like that. -The people hate him frightfully.” - -“But why should they hate him so?” - -“He was the cause of the war; the soldier who killed him said so.” - -“His monument is going to stand there.” - -“You will be knocked down if you say such things,” said the young -man. “This morning a gentleman just said to his wife: “Poor Tisza!” -Nevertheless the passengers became indignant, insulted him, stopped the -car and shouted till both got off. You must say nothing openly about him, -except that he was a scoundrel, that he wanted the war and was the cause -of all the bloodshed. One may not say anything of anybody but what the -National Council says. One must say nothing of Károlyi but that he is the -only person who can save Hungary. This is our liberty.” - -Later in the day I had news of another misfortune which had befallen us -while the drunken Minister of War was proclaiming in front of the House -of Parliament that he never wanted to see a soldier again. Archduke -Joseph and his son Joseph Francis have sworn fidelity to the National -Council at the Town Hall. Somebody who had seen the Archdukes told me -that they had gone to the ceremony in field-uniform, with all their -orders on their chests. John Hock had the doors of the hall opened so -that the public might follow the ceremony and then received in the name -of the Council the oaths which bestowed a certain prestige and a doubtful -legal standing on the power they have built up on mud. - -Károlyi’s press shrieked with joy. The mid-day papers published the -report and obsequiously fawned on the Archdukes. Cunningly they called -this brave, clean soldier the new Philippe Egalité, comparing him to the -Orléans Prince who had denied his origin and pronounced death on his -king.... I was dumfounded. Those who had any strength of character would -feel now that they had been abandoned, while the weak would have nothing -to cling to and would inevitably drift toward the National Council. What -was at the bottom of it all? How did it happen that Archduke Joseph, the -general idolized by the nation, the bearer of the great traditions of -the great Palatines, how did he come to the disgraceful table where a -disreputable priest collected oaths for the National Council? What has -forced the Archduke to join the enemies of his country and his dynasty? -Among the many dark scenes of this grim tragedy this one alone has come -to light; it cannot yet be understood, and the time has not yet come to -pass judgment upon it. That the Archduke went there with a stricken soul, -against his innate convictions, those who know him cannot doubt. - -Ever since his childhood, ever since he started life under the old trees -of Alcsuth, he had always trod the paths of the nation’s honour. During -the war he was a father to the Hungarian soldiers. Of the many stories -told about him I will repeat only one which I had from my brother. At the -Italian front a wounded Hungarian soldier was asked on his deathbed if -he had any wish. “I should like to see Archduke Joseph once more.” That -was all he said and the Archduke came and held his hand while he died. -One who was loved like that was not carried by fear or bribe to the Town -Hall. It was not for his own sake but in the misconceived interest of his -country that he made the sacrifice, aggrandised by its background, his -family’s transcendent history of a thousand years. - -In front of him in a dirty office: Michael Károlyi, John Hock, Kunfi, -Jászi. Behind him, on a road lost in the centuries, in silver armour -with vizor raised: the haughty face of the Emperor Rudolph, Count of -Hapsburg, whose cup-bearer was a Hohenzollern. And again, his handsome -silver locks covered with a black velvet biretta, the chain of the Golden -Fleece about his neck: Maximilian, the friend of poets, the hero of -Theuerdank, the last of the knights. In a heavily embroidered bodice, -the sparkling Marguerite of Austria, ruling Duchess of the Netherlands. -Philippe le Bel, and the amorous Joan. In grave splendour, Charles V., -on whose kingdom the sun never set, and the victor of Lepanto’s gory -waters, the young Don Juan of Austria. The gloomy cortège of the Spanish -Philips and Carlos. The full-wigged Ferdinand and Leopold under the holy -crown, and Maria Thérèse’s powdered little head bowed in the grandiose -tumult of Hungarian fidelity, among drawn swords and hands uplifted for -the vow: “_Vitam et sanguinem pro rege nostro_....” Joseph, the king in -a hat,[3] a narrow, meditative face at the window of the Vienna Burg, -while behind him Mozart’s spinet sounds delicately sweetly from the gilt -white room. A touching face: Marie Antoinette, more royal on the scaffold -than on the throne. Leopold of Toscana, the friend of the Hungarians. -In a simple white frock-coat: the Duke of Reichstadt. In the robes of -the Order of St. Stephen: the great Palatines. And at the end of the -row the constitutional old King, the last grand seigneur of Europe, and -Elizabeth, the wandering queen, who never was at home but when she was in -Hungary. - -This history of the Hapsburgs is the history of Europe itself. It is a -history of imperial diadems and royal crowns, of empires, kingdoms and -countries, of centuries and generations. And so to drag the Archduke -Joseph into the mire was precisely what Károlyi and his accomplices -desired. Let the downfall be complete, so that there shall be nothing -to look back on, so that the abased nation shall not be able to expect -anything from anybody. The political leader of the nation has been killed -in the person of Stephen Tisza; its military leader has now been enticed -into the gutter and has been covered with mud so that those who look out -for a chief round whom to rally may not discern his real character. The -bonds have been severed, and in the silence of our amazement we are all -become solitary and forlorn. - -What is left to us? The funeral of Stephen Tisza! The dead leader will -once more gather his followers together. And then our bitterness shall -find voice and strength. - - * * * * * - -It was in the afternoon that I heard that the funeral which we had wanted -to attend had already taken place quietly, in other words secretly. Only -a new act of Károlyi’s impudence made some noise. He had sent a wreath -labelled: “A human atonement to my greatest political adversary. Michael -Károlyi.” The mourning family, however, had the wreath thrown on the -garbage heap. Quietly, with secrecy, Tisza’s coffin was taken from the -house of the bloody deed to the railway station. Few of his friends were -present, but the two women who had been faithful to the last were there. -They took him to Geszt. Once more he was to cross the great plain he -loved so much, to take his rest in the soil of the land that had allowed -him no rest while he lived. - -Evening came. A cart rolled through the silence of our rural retreat and -stopped in front of our garden. We had been waiting for weeks for the -long paid-for firewood, and at last it had come. The Swabian driver who -had brought it stood lazily on top of the pile and threw one log after -the other indifferently into the road. I asked him if he would mind -bringing the wood into the courtyard. If it remained out there every -piece of it would be stolen before the morrow. - -“Certainly not; you ought to be jolly glad that I brought it at all,” -he answered. He squeezed the money for cartage into the pocket of his -breeches, whipped up his horses, and the cart rolled downward on the -mountain road. I did not know what to do. I went to the farm, then -enquired at the nearest houses, when I noticed two men coming up the -road. They had red ribbons in their buttonholes, and rifles over their -shoulders. I stopped them and asked them if they would carry the wood -in for me: I would pay for it with pleasure. They looked at each other, -whispered, and at last one said, as if bestowing a favour on me: - -“We might, but it will be sixty crowns for the cubic yard.” - -“Have you taken leave of your senses? You know it won’t take you an hour -to carry the whole lot in.” - -“Well, if it doesn’t suit you, carry it yourself,” and they laughed -sardonically. “You’ll have to come to us in the end,” one of them added. -Then they sat down on the edge of the ditch opposite the gate, lit their -pipes and looked on maliciously to see what I would do next. I turned -my back on them, picked up a log and dragged it into the yard. The men -sat and looked on. I had to go in and out a good many times, and was -soon panting with the unusual exertion; my hands got wet and sore with -the damp wood. Then suddenly my sister’s children appeared. They got two -poles and we carried the logs in on the improvised stretcher. On the -road two little boys and a girl came strolling towards the farm. They -stopped, looked on for a while, and then they too joined us. Now the work -proceeded fast, and within an hour the wood was all stacked in the yard. - -While we worked the two men sat on the edge of the ditch opposite, -smoked, spat, and addressed provoking remarks at us. When I closed the -gate I could not resist shouting across to them: “Good of you to have -stayed here. At least you saw of what mettle we are made. We managed your -job although you couldn’t manage ours.” - -The log-pulling tired me out—and that did me good. For fatigue softened -my troubles, and when I went to bed I fell asleep at once. But I must -have slept only a short time, for suddenly I dreamt that somebody was -standing in front of my window and knocking. In the semi-consciousness -of awakening I listened. My room was on the first floor. I jumped up. -Violent shooting was going on near the house and the windows rattled in -their frames. Then a long appalling howl rent the night, steps ran down -the hillside, and everything lapsed into silence. - -I lay awake for a long time. A curious light came through the latticework -of my blinds which overlooked a piece of waste ground. I listened. There -were steps in the neighbourhood. Something was happening out there. -Should I go and see?... I hesitated for some time. My limbs were heavy -with fatigue. Then at last I went stealthily to the window. Soldiers were -standing in front of the empty villa which stood next to ours and were -supporting a hatless man who seemed to be wounded or insensible. A small -shrivelled form held an electric torch in its hand and fumbled with the -lock of the door. The shadow which he cast on the white wall was like -that of a hunch-backed cat. The door opened and they all went in. - -My first thought was “I must telephone to the police!” Then I realized -that even that impulse belonged to the past. What good would it be? There -is nobody who can maintain order. I thought of the fugitives in our -woods. The country was swarming with deserters, released convicts, small -bands of burglars. We shall have to get used to it—we shall have to get -used to many things. - -And again there was firing down in the valley. Although the danger of -remaining longer in this deserted neighbourhood still worried me, I was -too tired to absorb fresh troubles, and went to sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - - _November 3rd._ - -A raven sat on a branch of the chestnut tree. It did not fly away when -I opened my window, but sat there like a stuffed bird and stared with -half-closed eyes into the yard. Near the black bird a few big red leaves -fluttered on the bare tree, like bleeding scraps of flesh on a skeleton. -And the raven sat on top of the skeleton against the rusty sky and rubbed -its beak now and then against the branches as if it would scrape some -carrion from it. Then again for a long time it sat motionless and stared -unconcernedly at the ground beneath it. Suddenly it swayed as if it were -going to fall, sprang clumsily away from the branch, and slowly took its -flight into the autumnal air. Whither is it going and what is happening -there? - -Alarming news comes from all parts of the country. Home-coming soldiers -and inflamed mobs are pillaging everywhere. As yet the news relates to no -definite locality, for there is no post, and the newspapers pass over in -silence anything that might create prejudice against the new power, yet -the glare of conflagration is to be seen in all directions. Many people -fled from the capital after the 31st of October, but in vain; risings -awaited them in the very places where they hoped for safety. - -The government took good care that this should be so. Károlyi’s party, -as well as the socialist and radical party, got together agitators whose -duty it was to incite the lower classes. And these did not confine -their attention to the returning soldiers, but lectured the peaceful -country folk concerning “the results of the glorious revolution and the -dangers of the counter-revolution.” They threw firebrands wherever a -conflagration was likely, and blew into flames such smouldering fires of -revolt as they could find. - -At the tram station the newsboy openly offered for sale the papers of -subscribers: no more newspapers will be delivered, and those who want one -must go and fetch it, they rudely asserted. They all seem to have learnt -the same lesson. The voice of the street becomes coarser day by day and -in every word there is an intonation that savours of class hatred. - -Crowds gathered in the town. Meetings were being held everywhere. In -front of the House of Parliament a few thousand workmen and the people -of the Ghetto had assembled. Speeches inciting to violence were heard on -all sides. The contractor Heltai, now commander of the garrison, and a -socialist agitator called Bokányi, addressed the crowd: - -“Down with Kingship! Down with the House of Lords! We want new elections! -But the elections won’t be made by Lord Lieutenants but by the People’s -Commissaries!” - -The People’s Commissaries ... Trotski and Lenin’s henchmen in Hungary! So -now the rebellion which dubbed itself the national revolution dares to -speak openly of these! Everything here is being ordered after the Russian -pattern. In the barracks the men of the garrison have dismissed their -officers, elected representatives, and constituted Soldiers’ Councils, -which are developing into a new power. The head of this new power is a -socialist journalist called Joseph Pogány-Schwarz. The vice-presidents -are Imre Csernyák, a cashiered officer, and Teodor Sugár-Singer, a -Galileist with a shady past. Pogány has declared that “the military -council can have only one programme: the final abolition of the army!” -and while day by day he arms more workmen with the help of the socialist -party organisation, he dissolves feverishly the old Hungarian army. Nor -does the Minister of War remain inactive: he has organised Zionist guards -and has armed the members of the Maccabean Club. Ladislaus Fényes, who -from being a journalist has turned into the Government Commissary of -National Guards, has enlisted and equipped more and more vagabonds and -escaped convicts with sailors’ uniforms. - -[Illustration: JOSEPH POGÁNY _alias_ SCHWARTZ. - -(_To face p. 70._)] - -A motor-car passed me, going slowly. It was a beautiful car and its -window was ornamented with a label: “National property, to be protected.” -Near the label, inside the car, I saw the face of Michael Károlyi. -I was in no laughing mood, yet I could not help laughing at this. -“National property!”... The nation must be in a sad plight indeed. “To be -protected!”... Is that the only thing which is to receive protection? - -By Károlyi’s side his wife was visible. Now and then there was a -cheer—“The King’s car,” said somebody near me. I felt suddenly sick. He -goes about in the King’s car and is cheered. Stephen Tisza travels in -a hearse and stones are hurled at him. The face of Tisza appeared so -vividly in my thoughts that it seemed to stand before me.... I remembered -a summer afternoon during the war. Mixing with the crowd, Tisza came -towards me in a light summer suit. The descendant of a long line of -horsemen he was slender and looked young; his shoulders were broad, his -waist narrow, but his face was worn and as if shrunken with grief. Deep -wrinkles ran to the corners of his mouth, and as I recollected him I -thought of the strong, sad look in his eyes and the movements of his -shoulders. Only his shoulders moved; he walked with an easy, elastic -gait, as if he were strolling along a forest path, and his hands swung -lightly.... - -The vision passed, and I was brought back to earth by some unkempt -vagabonds cheering Károlyi. And the living man there in the car seemed -more like a corpse than the dead man of my thoughts. His long, bloodless -body was thin and bent. His narrow head, with its artificial stern -expression, lolled on his shoulder as if it were too heavy for his neck -to support. His watery, squinting eyes shifted blankly from side to side. -His mouth was slightly open, as if his long, round chin had drawn down -his fleshy cheeks. I remembered an ivory paper-knife I had once seen, the -handle of which was carved to represent an unhealthy looking head, worn -smooth by much use. He reminded me of that sallow ivory head, the neck of -which had been turned into a spiral, like a screw. The screw of Károlyi’s -neck had come loose, and his head dropped sideways. His wife was -rouged in a doll-like fashion and her beautiful big eyes sparkled. Her -voluptuous young mouth smiled in rapture, and she seemed to be drinking -her success from the air greedily. - -I looked after her. The car had long disappeared but it seemed to me as -if the smile of those painted lips had left a trail of corruption over -the suffering, harassed people. It spread and spread.... Stephen Tisza’s -body is covered with blood. The frontiers of the country are bleeding. -The enemy is victorious without having vanquished us. The army goes to -pieces; the throne has fallen. St. Stephen’s crown has lost Croatia and -Slavonia. The rabble robs and pilfers. A Serbian army has crossed the -frontier. - -And the painted lips smile, smile.... - -Only a few days ago Michael Károlyi had said in jest: - -“The smaller the country becomes the greater shall I be. When I was -leader of the opposition, the whole of Hungary was intact; when I became -Prime Minister Croatia and Slavonia had gone; there will be five counties -when I am President, and one only when I shall be King.” - -If only the miserable deceived millions could have heard this, they for -whose benefit he proclaimed on the 31st of October with the recklessness -of the gambler: “I alone can save Hungary!” They believed him!... And yet -mysterious Nature itself had warned the country to beware of him. - -The deformed offspring of a consanguineous marriage, the heir to the -enormous entailed possessions of the Károlyis, was born with a cleft -palate and a hare-lip. He was fourteen years old when an operation -was performed on him which enabled him, against the will of Divine -Providence, to learn to speak—so that he might beguile his nation and his -country into destruction. A silver palate was put into his mouth. The -boy struggled and suffered. He wrestled with the words, and if his poor -efforts were not understood by his companions he went into violent fits -of temper. The only one who could have understood him, his mother, died -early. His grandmother and his sister guided the poor boy through his -unhappy early days. His progress in school was slow and the results of -examinations deplorable. He passed his _baccalaureat_ at the same time -as my brother, yet he practically knew nothing and could not even spell. -He passed all the same: “The poor, young invalid!” That served him as a -passport everywhere. Fate decreed that the misshapen youth should live, -and he lived to take a cruel revenge for its cruelties. - -[Illustration: COUNTESS MICHAEL KÁROLYI (_née_ COUNTESS KATINKA ANDRÁSSY). - -(_To face p. 72._)] - -His physical shortcomings prevented anyone from expecting much from -him, so that almost everything he learned, did or said, surpassed -the extremely low standard his family had set for him. His relations -recognised this “ability” and admired him. And this delusion was the root -of Károlyi’s ever-increasing vanity. He became convinced that he was an -extraordinary man and that he was predestined for wonderful things. - -When he came of age he entered into possession of one of the greatest -estates in Hungary. He could dispose freely of an enormous income. He -had no need to keep accounts, and he kept none. He spent recklessly. -He gambled, indulged in orgies. People laughed at him. Nobody took him -seriously. His spendthrift life, cards, and the political rôle he assumed -later, absorbed fabulous sums. But his fortune could still stand it. -He was surrounded by sycophants. And he believed the flatteries of his -cringing parasites. His megalomania at last became pathological. Without -possessing the necessary aptitude, he now conceived the idea of making -up for what he had neglected in his idle youth. He began to read. And -when husbandry, political economy, sociology, were accumulated in an -indigestible hotch-potch in his brain, he aspired to become a leader of -men. - -At the head of the conservatives stood Stephen Tisza, by race and -tradition the very model of Hungarian conservatism; another faction of -this party was headed by Count Julius Andrássy. In these camps Károlyi -could never be anything but a secondary figure; leadership was beyond -his reach. This fact drove him to the extreme left. Spurred by his -unhealthy ambition for power he assumed the absurd position of leader -of the radical democracy, a demagogue playing with national catchwords, -though he was an aristocrat by tradition, had no national feeling -whatever, and had constantly proclaimed himself essentially a Frenchman -at heart, the spiritual descendant of his French great-grandmother. His -faction was in need of a figurehead. It found one in him. - -The clash between him and Tisza came when Tisza, then the President of -the Commons, tired of the barren fights of eternal obstruction, and -in anticipation of the future extension of the franchise, wanted to -assure the decency of the proceedings in the Hungarian Parliament by a -revision of the standing rules of procedure. The parties sounded the -alarm. Personal feelings were much embittered. Andrássy and Károlyi found -themselves in the same camp and both were mortally offended when Tisza -imposed his haughty will with merciless firmness. - -It was by the application of the new rules that Károlyi happened later -to be expelled from the House by physical force at the hands of the -parliamentary guards. On this occasion he was heard to declare, foaming -with rage, that he would get even with Tisza, even though it should be -at the cost of his country’s ruin. His frenzy became akin to dementia as -the result of the duel he fought about this time with Tisza, who managed -to impress him once more with his contempt even at the moment of giving -him armed satisfaction. Henceforth it was always the opposite to anything -Tisza approved of that he desired, and consequently his gambler’s -instinct forced him to put his money always on some other card than that -on which the nation, through Tisza’s foresight, had risked its stakes. - -By this time his entourage was composed almost exclusively of Freemasons, -and his person became the centre of attraction of that suspicious gang -whose aim was to incite Hungarians against Hungarians, and Christians -against Christians, so that it might gain the upper hand—in proof of the -adage _inter duos litigantes tertius gaudet_. Shortly before the war -Károlyi went with some of his adherents to the United States to collect -party funds. No account of those funds was ever rendered. - -The outbreak of the war found him in Paris. His financial position -had now become strained. The life-interest in his property, heavily -mortgaged, left him no surplus. Yet he went on spending and gambling. -Nobody knew whence his money came. Nor did anybody know why he alone -was allowed to leave France at the outbreak of the war, while obscure -individuals were mercilessly interned for its duration. - -It was after his return that Károlyi began to spread the infection which, -on the 31st of October 1918, like a septic sore that had long been -festering, broke out in putrid suppuration. - - * * * * * - -The lamp-lighter came up the street. The glass of the lamps rattled and -the little flames flared up. Over the bridge an arc of light appeared -in the mist rising from the river. In the tunnel under the Castle Hill -old-fashioned lamps lit up the damp walls. Two soldiers were walking in -front of me, otherwise the tunnel was practically empty. Their voices -resounded from the roof—they were quarrelling in a strange thieves’ -jargon. On the other side a well-dressed man came towards us on the -pavement. The two soldiers discussed something in their incomprehensible -lingo, then crossed together to the other side, saluted the stranger -and, as if asking him a question, bent towards him. Obviously they were -asking him the time. The gentleman drew his watch. One of the soldiers -grasped him suddenly by the shoulders, the other bent over him. A loud -shout rolled away under the vault, and next moment the two soldiers were -running in their heavy boots with loud clatter towards the other end of -the tunnel. It was quickly done and created no sensation. The whole thing -was quite in keeping with our daily life nowadays. - -This night vagabond soldiers again visited the empty villa and shots were -fired near the garden. The dogs barked no more. Have they been shot, or -have they got accustomed to it? - - * * * * * - - _November 4th._ - -I went through the rooms again. In front of the gate the carriage was -awaiting to take us away for the winter, from among the trees to among -the houses. The small light of the carriage-lamps filtered hesitatingly -through the mist on to the bare branches of the shrubs. A vague anxiety -took hold of me. It seemed to me that hitherto we had looked on from -the shore, but that now we were going to wade into the turbulent, muddy -flood. Whither will its torrent carry us; what is to be our fate? - -I went all over the house, and, one after the other, opened the doors of -the cupboards and the drawers. I left everything open so that if burglars -did break into the house in winter the locks might not be forced, the -cupboards not smashed with hatchets. The fireplaces cooled down slowly. -We had had no fires during the day in order to avoid accidents after we -had gone. In one of the grates the embers still retained a little warmth, -the others were as cold as the dead. I fastened the grated shutters in -every room. In the semi-darkness, against the whitewashed walls, the old -furniture, the old story-telling engravings, friends of my childhood, -the big vase, the parrot-chandeliers, the coloured glasses in which the -flowers of a hundred summers had blossomed in the rooms of my mother and -my grandmother, all looked at me as if in sorrow. I looked also at my -books, the old Bible on the shelf, at everything for which no room could -be found in the vans and which had to be left behind. - -Things too have tears.... What if the empty house were pillaged? If I -were never to see again the dear things full of memories?... Why do you -leave us here? the abandoned things seemed to ask, and I felt as if I -were parting from devoted, living beings, which patiently shared our fate. - -My mother called from below, waiting, ready to start, in the hall with -my brother, who had come for us so that he might be there should the -carriage be waylaid. As we went out of it the old house lapsed into -lethargy and everything closed its eyes. The key turned, the pebbles -clattered on the drive, and the carriage went slowly down the slope of -the hill. - -At the bridge over the Devil’s Ditch my brother-in-law was waiting with -his little daughter, and she got into the carriage. Reckless soldiers -had overrun the hills and life was so insecure that they did not dare to -keep the young girl at home. In town things may be quieter.... Beyond the -cemetery we came to the booth of the excisemen. We waited for a time in -the mist and as no policeman, no exciseman appeared, we passed on through -the open barrier. The outlines of armed soldiers and sailors peopled the -ill-lit streets of Buda. The forms of a few frightened citizens who were -trying to get home appeared now and then, but were soon absorbed by the -night. - -Beyond the bridge over the Danube the town was floating in light. Big -arc-lamps were burning, as of old when a victory was reported from the -battle-fields. Flags floated from the houses. In the fashionable streets -the crowds thronged for their evening walk, and as the carriage passed -Károlyi’s portrait could be seen in the shop windows among stockings and -ribbons, furs and sausages. - -I felt relieved when we came out of the sea of people into quieter -streets. The carriage stopped at our house in Stonemason Street. Under -the porch a half-turned-on gas lamp was burning, which threw a light up -to the ceiling but left everything under our feet in darkness. The house -seemed to have become shabby during the summer. The staircase was dull -and ugly. The fires smoked and nothing was as it used to be when we came -in olden times to our friendly winter home. Disorder, covered furniture, -draped pictures. It was like wearing summer clothes on a frosty winter -day. - -“Well, we are settled for the winter now, mother dear,” I laughed, to -make it seem more cheerful. My mother laughed too and we both pretended -to be happy. - -A clumsy little German maid rushed about among the trunks and did -nothing. Our faithful farmer neighbour, who had kindly escorted the -luggage, was struggling with the fires. The housekeeper boiled some -water over a spirit lamp. My mother went to and fro, and wherever her -hand reached order sprang up. All at once the little green room assumed -a friendly appearance and tea steamed in the cups on the white covered -table. Home was home again and we smiled at each other. - -“The many war winters have passed, and this is going to pass too.” - -“This is worse than the winters of the war,” my mother said with unusual -gloom. - -I looked involuntarily at the window. Out there beyond, a big town was -breathing, but it was impossible to get information from its chaos. The -scum had got the upper hand; was any resistance being organised? It was -impossible that things should remain like this! One regiment coming back -in order, one energetic commander, and Károlyi’s band will tumble from -power. - -Newspapers lay on the table, and my eyes fell on a proclamation of -Károlyi, which he had made in the presence of the representatives of -the Budapest press: “From the 1st of November Hungary becomes a neutral -state,” he declared. “This tired government....” He did not say what the -Entente powers would say to this neutrality. Further on he spoke of the -Minister of War.... “He had immortal merits in obtaining peace. History -will not fail to recognise the credit due to him; Linder has rendered to -the Hungarian people services of eternal value and usefulness....” - -I remembered the disgraceful scene in front of the House of Parliament, -a scene cunningly contrived by those in the background.... “I do not -want to see any more soldiers....” I had heard since that it was for -this sentence, promised beforehand, that the social democrats gave the -Ministry of War to the obscure Linder. The price of his portfolio was the -disruption of the army. And Károlyi spoke of history’s gratitude! - -On the last page of the paper I found accidentally an extract of the -conditions of the armistice. - -Immediate disarmament, the withdrawal of our armies from the North -Sea to the Swiss frontier.... When I read on my eyes faltered. Then -they were filled with alarm. The last terrible condition (unknown in -modern warfare) followed: Prisoners of war to be returned without any -reciprocity! This seemed incomprehensible. Our enemies want to retain as -white slaves soldiers, heroes who had faced them armed in open battle. -Then another pain stabbed me: We must lose the coast, Dalmatia, the -dreamy blue islands, the fleet to whose flag so much glory was attached, -the monitors of the Danube. We must deliver up all floating material, the -commercial harbours, and ships. - -[Illustration: FIUME (HUNGARY’S ONLY PORT—TAKEN FROM HER BY THE PEACE -TREATY). - -_Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 78._)] - -The scorched, lifeless Carso, wild tracts of rock under an azure sky, -great murmuring forests, and there, down below, the sea, and, like corals -and shells on the shore, Fiume, Hungary’s gate to the seas. It was indeed -a bitter thought. Italy, with thy hundred ports, why dost thou rob us? We -have only this one! It was a tiny fishing village, like so many others in -the bay of Quarnero. We made it what it is: it sprung up from Hungarian -labour, the gold from Hungarian harvests of corn and wine has flowed -there to raise dams, to build quays, to work a wonder among the stones. -Fiume is our only port.... - -And beyond, that which was not ours but which we loved dearly, the rosy -bastions of the Dolomites, reaching into the clouds, the home of the -Tyrolese, and Riga on the shores of Lake Garda, peaks and ravines, sacred -by so much Hungarian blood. What the war could not take is peace to take -from us? - -Beside myself, I walked up and down in my room till morning, haunted by -despair, utter, complete despair. - - * * * * * - - _November 5th._ - -In place of the free morning of the woods, the gloom of a narrow street -looked in through my window. The wall of the opposite house drove my -eyes back to my books, my furniture, my pictures. Now I saw their beauty -again, and I was glad that they were there with me. - -The many old books in the bookcase behind my writing-table ran up the -wall like the fading gold of an ancient embroidery. Above, on the red -wall, in a frame surmounted by the Pope’s triple crown, in a soft haze -the Madonna of Venice by Sebastiano Ricci. The portrait of Castruccio -Castracani and a Dutch Old Man in a sable-bordered green mantle. The -clock ticked under the Empire mirror. From the escritoire with the many -little drawers, a copy of San Lorenzo the child-monk, the most beautiful -piece of sculpture of the early Renaissance, looked into my room with a -youthful challenge. - -The fading gold of ancient frames, the stale green of old furniture. The -colours toyed with each other in silence and the red curtains and walls -threw a russet light over things as if a magic sunset had been caught -between the window and the door. - -Next to my room, in the small drawing-room, the old water-colours hung -over the sofa. My ancestor, the powdered, pigtailed old gentleman, in -his romantic breastplate of the Hardegger Cuirassiers, my grandfather’s -handsome young head, and beautiful fair women with locks on the sides of -their faces. Opposite, on the piano, between the golden Old Vienna vases, -stood my mother’s portrait as a child, in all its delicacy. And on the -mantelpiece the butterfly-shaped pendulum of the marble clock told me -endless tales of the past. - -I loved all these things so much, or rather I became conscious of my love -for them because fear was now added to my affection. Shall we keep them? -Will they remain our own? - -In the evening I was on Red Cross duty at the railway station. The clock -on St. Rocus’ chapel proclaimed it half past six. The trams, crammed -full, raced down the street, with people hanging on outside like bunches -of grapes. It was impossible to get into one. I had to walk, and as I -came to the more remote parts of the town I remembered October 31st. The -pavement was thronged with criminal-looking men, suspicious vagabonds, -drunken sailors, Galician Jews in their gabardines. Whence did this -rabble come? Or did it always live here among us, only we did not know it? - -The neighbourhood of the station was swarming with people. Disarmed, -ragged soldiers sold cigarettes and sticky sweets; one or two asked for -alms. Near the wall, on a stair covered with a waterproof, some obscene -books were lying about. Dirty men sold pencils, purses, tobacco. A boy -in a gabardine offered broken bits of chocolate from a tray. There was -something Balkan in this noisy scene: a red cross flag floated over the -murky street. People went freely in and out through the doors of the -station. No tickets were required—anyhow, it would be impossible to -stop the mob—the guards had gone. Russian soldiers in sheepskin caps, -Roumanian and Serbian prisoners of war, like a stampeded herd, broke -through the throng. These at least could go home. And my hand went to my -heart. - -Wounded soldiers, drinking tea and eating slices of bread, sat on -the benches in the carbolic-scented, stuffy air of the former Royal -waiting-room, which was lit up sparsely. It was the first time I had -been on duty since the Revolution. During the many years of war so many -stretchers had gone through this Red Cross room, so much suffering and -moaning and knocking of crutches, that it seemed to me now as if all -these turned back with reproaches and asked continually: “What good was -that sea of suffering, all these deaths, if this is to be the end of the -road?” - -Round the low-burning gas-stove sat some sergeants of the Army Medical -Corps. Further away, in a cold corner, a few disabled officers had -retired. The insignia of their rank on their collars were missing. They -were pale and thin. One of them leant his elbows on his knees and buried -his face in his hands. Another’s head was bowed down on his chest. Never -in my life have I seen men more dejected than these: they just sat there -without moving. And while I looked at them I realised with an aching -heart that the horrible betrayal, “the glorious revolution” has wounded -the wounded, and far, far away, in the many soldiers’ graves, has killed -the dead anew. - -A hospital train arrived; it brought Germans. In silent line one -stretcher after the other defiled through the door, and the men were laid -in a gray row on the floor. Under torn, bloody, great-coats, pale patient -ghosts. A hospital from the Southern front had been evacuated in haste. -“The Serbians are advancing....” - -The old bandages soaked with blood were dirty on the men: an awful stench -of corruption spread over the place. And between the stretchers a Jewish -sergeant, in brand new field-uniform, with golden pince-nez, sporting -a red cockade, walked haughtily up and down. I had never seen him in -the place before. “I have been delegated by the Soldiers’ Council,” he -remarked. And this man, whose very appearance betrayed the fact that he -had never been a soldier during the war, now stood there, his legs apart, -between the wounded and spoke to them with impertinent condescension. - -I told the doctor that the men required new bandages, it was two weeks -now since they had been put on. “There are no bandages,” said the doctor -sadly and went back to his room. I did not see him again that evening. -The reeking air was now and then rent by a moan, a quiet sigh. That was -all. But nobody spoke. The men thanked one with a weary look for the bad -decoction and the bread that tasted of sawdust. - -“Our men are still fighting against the Serbians,” a fair Bavarian -mumbled, when I leant down over him. It was only when the red-cockaded -sergeant had retired and the other orderly had gone to smoke outside on -the platform that there was some talk between the stretchers. - -“How are things at home?” the Germans asked. “We have no newspapers, we -know nothing. People say that there they have made a revolution too and -that they want to banish the Kaiser.” - -Wounded Hungarian soldiers sat on one of the benches and talked of the -Italian front: - -“It was after our men had laid down their arms that the Italians began -to shell us. They used heavy artillery and killed whole regiments. Whole -divisions were surrounded. They report three hundred thousand prisoners -and a thousand guns. All is lost.” - -“Newspapers too reported that the Italians continued to fire at us for -twenty-four hours after we had fired the last shot.” - -“More men were killed during the armistice than in the bloodiest battle,” -an officer grumbled. - -He who had buried his face in his hands now looked up: - -“Pacificism has begun with more bloodshed than war. If we had held the -front for another two weeks what has happened to us would have happened -in Italy. That was the reason they hurried so. That was why we had to -capitulate without conditions. The trouble was with the reserves; they -were in communication with Budapest. They received wireless messages from -the National Council....” - -This talk reminded me of the message Károlyi sent in the name of the -government to the Higher Command: “I freely accept responsibility for -everything.” He also declared that: “The popular Hungarian government -desires to take all steps for peace negotiations itself.” Originally -he wanted to go personally to Padua, but was prevented by the Higher -Command. Yesterday the rumour got about that as he could not negotiate -with the Italians who had been charged by the Entente to represent it in -its dealings with the Monarchy, he had appealed to Franchet d’Esperay, -the Commander-in-chief on the Balkan front. The French General had -answered that before he would negotiate with him, all the troops on the -Hungaro-Serbian frontier must retire fifteen kilometres into Hungarian -territory and that the German troops be disarmed within a fortnight. The -abandonment of Hungarian territory was required.... We must oust our -last friends, who still defend our frontiers which our own people have -forsaken. Give up Hungarian territory.... There can be only one answer to -that: a refusal.... But rumour says otherwise: Károlyi is going with his -adherents to Belgrade, perhaps he has gone already.... Incomprehensible! -Surely I have not dreamt it? I read in a newspaper the report of the -Chief of the General Staff that in consequence of the armistice all -hostilities had ceased on the Italian front. What are the negotiations of -Belgrade about? - -There was a great noise in front of the door. Tea was clamoured for and -rough voices filled the room. Some of the talk was bitter. Most of the -men coming from Austria had been robbed of everything. In Vienna Red -Guards robbed the Hungarians at the railway stations. Their haversacks -had been taken, some had their coats torn off their backs, their boots, -rations, even their pocket-knives had been filched from them. They came -home hungry and furious and clamouring. - -Then I caught sight of the sergeant with the red cockade. He mixed with -the men and whispered secretively with first one then another. I asked -a tall soldier, with a peasant’s face, if all the men were coming home. -Were there no troops remaining on the frontier to defend the country? - -“To be sure we don’t stop there; we are going home; we even left the guns -as soon as the news reached us that we need no longer be soldiers.” He -produced a crumpled copy of a radical evening paper from the pocket of -his coat and waved it in his hand. “Here, in this paper too it is written -that the Minister of War has said himself: ‘Now we have peace.’” - -So the War Minister’s announcement: “I do not want to see any more -soldiers” had already reached the front. The fatal words were lying in -wait on every road by which Hungarian soldiers were coming home. - -It was about eleven o’clock when I went off duty. As I went through the -gate two men slunk to the wall. They were soldiers—officers. One of them -spoke excitedly and snatched at his head. He gave me the impression that -he was mad. “I brought the regiment home fully equipped and in perfect -order, reported at the War Office, offered my services to the country, -and they told me to disarm and go home....” - -I heard no more, but that was enough. We could have no hope in those who -had come as far as this. But perhaps somewhere else, far from the town, -somebody will be found who can keep his men in hand, march them to the -capital, and disperse Károlyi’s rabble. That is the only hope left to us, -there is no other. - -Through the noisy thoroughfares the tram wound its way into dark -side-streets. From St. Rocus’ chapel I walked home. In our street the -steps of a patrol resounded. I turned rapidly into the house. Behind me -the shriek of a woman rent the silence of the night. As I ran up the -stairs my mother stood in the ante-room waiting for me. Goodness knows -how long she had been waiting, but she did not reproach me. I could see -by her face that she was worried. Only when I went to bed did she say -imploringly: “Another time don’t stay so late.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - - _November 6th._ - -I feel so queer. I feel as though there were an open wound in my head -from which blood was spreading over my thoughts. How long can one bear -this kind of thing? Something must happen.... We always say that, and -yet one hopeless day passes after the other. All that happens is that we -get news of some further disaster. The whole country is being pillaged. -Escaped convicts, straggling Russian prisoners, degraded soldiers, -murderers are plundering country houses, farms, whole villages, and -inciting the mob to violence. Alarming news comes from all parts of the -country. - -Somebody came this morning from the County of Arad. Algyest; an unknown -little village, which does not even appear on the map, and yet it is -very dear to my heart. There, on the banks of the river Körös, are an -old garden and an ancient house under the poplars.... It has been broken -into and pillaged. And as I heard of this, I understood the tragedy of -every despoiled castle, of every ruined home in Hungary. Smoking walls, -empty rooms.... The venerable manor-house with its loggia was not mine, -yet this misfortune touched me to the quick: they have injured the past -summers of my childhood. They have trodden down the paths along which, in -memory, I still wandered with my grandmother. They have defiled the slope -of the chapel hill where I played so often in happier days. They did not -shrink from breaking into the crypt. They even robbed those who had -retired there for their last sleep in the dim twilight, generation after -generation. - -The incited Roumanian peasants wanted to beat the inhabitants of the -house to death; and while the latter fled secretly, the wild horde, -under the guidance of the village schoolmaster, rushed in with scythes -and hatchets; and whatever they could not carry off they destroyed in an -orgy of havoc. The fine old books of the library they tore from their -shelves and trampled into the mud. The portraits of the ancient landlords -they hacked with axes, pierced their eyes and cut out the canvas in the -place of the heart. Persian carpets were cut into bits and carried off. -Like madmen they smashed and destroyed till night fell; then they made -bonfires with the furniture many centuries old. The old well they filled -to the brim with debris of Old Vienna porcelain, with splinters of broken -crystal. - -How often have I not looked into the clear water of that well at the -reflection of my childish face, and put my tongue out at myself; how -often have I not chased butterflies near it and on the sunlit paths -of the warm, rose-scented garden, which led beyond the firs into the -wilds.... Velvety moss grew on the edge of the roads, under the shade of -the trees. It grew also on the stone seat at the bottom of the garden, -where one was safe from the disturbing intrusion of grown-ups. One could -climb up on the seat and look over the hedge into the main road. Rumbling -carts passed in the soft white dust, and the Roumanian peasants used to -doff their caps to me when they caught sight of me. “Naptye buna!” I -nodded to them. I knew old Todyert, and Lisandru and Petru, who was my -mother’s godchild. They spoke their own tongue, nobody ever harmed them, -their teacher knew nothing but Roumanian, nor their priest, and yet they -were paid and looked after by the Hungarian state. So it was elsewhere -too. The Hungarians did not oppress its foreign-tongued brethren, who -for centuries in troublesome times, escaping the oppression of Mongols, -Tartars, Turks, and of their own blood, sought refuge in our midst. Had -it oppressed them there would be no German, Slovak, Ruthenian, or Serb in -our country to-day; and yet these people shout now in mad hatred that -everybody who is Hungarian ought to be knocked on the head. - -[Illustration: “THE TRAGEDY OF EVERY RUINED HOME.” - -(_To face p. 86._)] - -To attain this result two parties worked hard. The Roumanian propaganda -and Károlyi’s satellites undermined the hill from both sides. They -met halfway in the tunnel, the Roumanian agitators and the Hungarian -traitors. That was one of the plans of Károlyi’s camp. To create the -_sine qua non_ of their power, disruption, they sent their agents to the -regions inhabited by these nationalities and stirred them up against the -Hungarians. In the Hungarian regions it was class hatred that was used -to incite the people to robbery. And the people became intoxicated: the -sufferings of the long years of war boiled up furiously. - -Everybody expected that the soldiers, when they came back one day from -the battlefield, would question those who had exploited and starved the -people and got rich by staying at home while the soldiers were suffering -at the front. In the last years of the war the embittered soldiers at the -front talked of pogroms “when the war was over.” The nation was preparing -for a reckoning and its fist rose slowly, terribly, over the heads of the -guilty. - -But a devilish power had now suddenly thrust that fist aside. The -accumulated hatred must be turned into a new channel away from the -Galician immigrants, profiteers, usurers—against the Hungarian manors and -castles, against the Hungarian authorities. - -It was with shame and bitterness that I heard the news. The country -folk here and there, even those of Hungarian blood, destroy, under the -guidance of government agitators, the homes of the Hungarian landlords. -The people satisfy their own conscience by repeating what they have been -taught: “Now that there is a republic, everything belongs to everybody.” -And well-to-do farmers go with their carts to the manors to carry off -other people’s property. The authorities are helpless: the fury of the -excited people has driven away the magistrates and petty officials. -The excuse for this is readily forthcoming. During the war-time -administration the local government officials were charged to collect -from the producer the necessary wheat and cattle, and they also selected -those who had to do war-work. They distributed sugar, flour, oil and the -necessary subsidies. Consequently they were frequently accused of having -kept the surplus for themselves and they were hated for everything that -went wrong. This hatred served as a side-channel to those who feared -pogroms, and cunningly they made use of it. About three thousand of these -officials were driven with cudgels from the villages and many were beaten -to death. - -Thus it happened that the communes were left to themselves. As a result -of agitation the people would not listen any longer to their priests, -and many of the school-teachers had become tainted with the infection. -Order disappeared. Disguised as popular apostles, the agitators of the -National Council—journalists, waiters, cabaret-dancers, kinematograph -actors and white-slave traffickers, invaded the country-side. Practically -on the day of the revolution in Budapest local National Councils were -formed everywhere. As if executing a pre-arranged plan, at an inaudible -command, the Jewish leaders of the trade-unions, the Jewish officials of -the workmen’s clubs, usurped authority. They knew the battle cries that -impressed the crowd, and they kept in close touch with the rebels in -the capital. They at once took their seats in the communal councils and -assumed the direction of affairs amid the confusion they themselves had -produced. Appealing to the National Council of Pest they issued orders to -provincial towns and villages as well, and in this humiliating state of -lethargy everybody obeyed. - -Károlyi’s revolution was engineered almost exclusively by Jews. They make -no secret of it, they boast of it. And with a never satisfied greed they -gather the reward of their achievement. They occupy every empty place. -In the government there are officially three, in reality five, Jewish -ministers. - -Garami, Jászi, Kunfi, Szende and Diener-Dénes have control over the -Ministries of Commerce, of the mayors and the communes. The vile spell -which had benumbed the capital cast its evil eye over the Nationalities, -of Public Welfare and Labour, of Finance and of Foreign Affairs. By means -of the Police department of the Home Office they have control over the -police and the political secret service: they have placed at its head two -Jews, former _agents provocateurs_. The right-hand man of the Minister of -War is a Jew who was formerly a photographer. The president of the Press -Bureau is a Jew and so is the Censor. Most of the members of the National -Council are Jews. Jews are the Commander of the garrison, the Government -Commissary of the Soldiers’ Council, the head of the Workers’ Council. -Károlyi’s advisers are all Jews, and the majority of those who started -last night for Belgrade to meet the Commander-in-Chief of the Balkan -front, the French General Franchet d’Esperay, are Jews. - -Incomprehensible journey! Carefully hidden, but still there, in the -semi-official paper of the government, there is given the news which -ought to render any further negotiations concerning the armistice -perfectly unnecessary. I have copied it word for word: - -“In consequence of the armistice as agreed between the plenipotentiaries -of the High Command of the Royal Italian Army, acting for the Allies and -the United States of America on the one side and the plenipotentiaries of -the High Command of the Austro-Hungarian Army on the other, all further -hostilities on land, on water and in the air are to be suspended at 3 -p.m. on the 4th of November all along the Austrian and Hungarian front.” - -What then do Károlyi and his associates want to negotiate about in -Belgrade? - -An angry protest rose in me. Michael Károlyi and his minister Jászi; -Baron Hatvany, the delegate of the National Council; the Commissary of -the Workers’ Council, a radical journalist; the delegate of the Soldiers’ -Council; Captain Csernyák, a cashiered officer ... how dare these men -speak in the name of Hungary? - -I became restless. The walls of my room seemed to be closing in upon me, -caging me. The room, the house, the town, had all at once become too -small for me. What was happening beyond them? Was salvation on its way? -It must be quick, for the flood is rising, swelling, it has reached our -neck, to-morrow it will drown us. I could stay at home no longer. I -must do something; walk, run, tire myself out. The anxieties of the last -few days have whipped me into action. Suddenly I realised that my own -inactivity was part of the great culpable inactivity of the nation. I too -was guilty of lethargy. No longer must I content myself with accusing -others, no longer expect action from them alone. Dimly, despairingly, I -realised that henceforward I must expect something from my own self. - -But what could I do, I who have lived a retired and almost solitary life, -I who could do nothing but love my country and depict its beauty with my -pen? What is the good of speaking of one’s country when a whole town, -with a foreign soul, laughs in one’s face? What good is its beauty when -millions tread it under their feet? - -Despondently I walked slowly through the badly lit, dingy streets. At the -gate of the Museum a sailor was standing, a rifle over his shoulder and -a revolver in his belt. Opposite, under the porch of the old House of -Parliament, soldiers were unloading heavy boxes from a motor lorry and -dragging them into the building. This building, in which Francis Deák had -once poured out his soul before the National Assembly of old, was now -the headquarters of the revolutionary Soldiers’ Council. Its organiser, -Joseph Pogány, whom Károlyi had nominated Government’s Commissary, had by -now risen to such power that he could effectively oppose the Minister of -War. - -“What is there in those boxes?” a slatternly servant girl asked a soldier. - -“Bandages,” replied the soldier, and winked at her; “but we bring -the best of it at night!” As soon as he noticed me he shouted out -threateningly: “Get away from here! Down from the foot-path!” - -I noticed then that there were machine-guns on the lorry, and that two -words were repeated on all the boxes: _Danger_ and _Cartridges_. - -The Minister of War orders the ammunition at the front to be thrown away, -while the Commissary of the Soldiers’ Council accumulates it in the heart -of the capital. Is it accidental or is there a connection between the -two? - -I walked for a long time in my lonely sorrow, and presently I reached the -banks of the Danube. In front of me the Elizabeth Bridge, like a crested -monster, strode across the river with a single stride, its back shining -with sundry lamps. Above it stood the solid mass of St. Gellert’s Hill, -and under it glided the river’s cool stream, carrying with it dark, -silent ships. Here and there a solitary murky pier clung to the shore, -and the reflection of low-burning street-lamps slipped shuddering into -the deep. - -A breeze came from the hills. It will bring frost to-night. And at night -the houses on the shore close their eyes so that they may see no more. -For every now and then little, preying boats glide over the cold water. A -shot is fired. There is a mysterious splash.... Everybody knows about it; -nobody interferes. In 1918, between Buda and Pest, as in the lawless days -of old, armed pirates stop ships. National sailor-guards play highwayman -on the Danube! - -I looked behind me. Among the badly-lit streets and dark houses who can -tell where is the lair of robbers and murderers? The clamour of the busy -streets, the silence of the alleys, hide crime. The town is blood-guilty: -the murderers of Stephen Tisza walk freely among us. - -A stranger turned the corner. I could not help thinking: was it he?—Or -that other one who sat in a motor-car and smoked a cigar? Everything -is possible here. Steps followed me, voices. Is he among those who are -walking there?—One of those whose voices are raised in threats over -there? The authorities are no longer pursuing their enquiries. The police -searched only to make sure that it could not find. But Tisza’s blood -cannot be washed away. It is there and it cries to Heaven. - -I reached home tired out. Why had I gone out at all? What did I want? Was -I looking for anybody? At least I might have seen a familiar face coming -towards me, greet me, stop and tell me something that would have raised -hope. I might have heard that General Kövess was marching on Pest with -his returning army, or that Mackensen had gathered the Széklers round him -in Transylvania. So this was what I had been seeking! I wanted to hear -the sound of a name, the name of a man who was brave and strong, who knew -how to organise and how to give orders, who could lay his hand on destiny -at the brink of the abyss. - -I found my room warm and cosy, for my mother had lit a fire while I was -out. Through the open door of the stove the light of the flames danced -into the room and was reflected from the parquet flooring. Stray rays -flickered to the book-case and passed over the gilding of old volumes. - -Tea was brought in and my mother came with it. She was wearing a black -silk dress with a white lace collar, and the scent she always used -brought a faint delicate fragrance into the room. After the disorder of -the muddy streets the purity of this quietude was striking, and already I -felt refreshed. - -Later on I had a visitor, Countess Armin Mikes, and her news dispelled -my temporary peace of mind. She was tired, her face was drawn as though -she had been ill, and her eyes were filled with tears. I knew what was -passing within her: the death of Transylvania. - -“Have you heard,” I asked her hesitatingly, “that the United States have -recognised Roumanians right over Transylvania? Her _right_.... And our -traitors are going to hand it over.” - -It was too terrible. The United States addressed the aboriginal Székler -inhabitants concerning the rights of immigrant Roumanian shepherds. The -United States: a young nation which, so far as civilization is concerned, -did not exist at a time when Transylvania had already been united to -Hungary for half a thousand years! - -“Not an inch of ground could be taken from us even now if only the army -made a stand on the frontier.” - -“If Tisza were alive!” - -“If he were alive they would kill him again.” - -We became silent, and for a long time the only sound was the crackling of -the embers in the stove. - -“All conspired against him,” at last said Countess Mikes. She was a close -relation of Tisza and had been a faithful friend to him in the height of -his power as well as in his downfall. “When I went there his blood was -still on the floor of the hall. There was also the mark of a bullet.... -He lost very much blood. He bled to death, that is why his face became so -frightfully white.” - -“And his wife?” - -“She sat motionless near him and held his hand.... Poor Stephen, his -body was not yet cold when an officer presented himself at the house. -He produced a paper which showed that he was aide-de-camp to Linder and -said that he had orders to ascertain with his own eyes if Tisza was -really dead. He wouldn’t go until he had accomplished his task. A soldier -was with him: he had been sent by the Soldiers’ Council. The officer -looked in at the door of the death chamber. When he saw that Tisza was -dead, he had the cynical impudence to express the condolences of the -whole government with the family. Béla Radvánsky told him that we did -not require them. Later on somebody came from the police with a police -surgeon. It was done for appearance’s sake. Of course they couldn’t trace -the criminals.... A telegram arrived from Károlyi, and a wreath—both were -thrown away.” - -“But why hadn’t Tisza gone away?” - -“He said he would not go into hiding.” Then my guest told me further -details of the murder. - -Already in the early morning of the fateful day people were loitering -about the villa. Denise Almássy came early and begged Tisza to leave the -place and to go to one of his friends, as his life was not safe there. -Tisza answered that he would not go uninvited into any man’s house. -Meanwhile a crowd was gathering in the road outside. The mob, always -ready to insult greatness in misfortune, cursed Tisza with threats. The -crowd increased. The garden gate was broken in. Soldiers noisily invaded -the place. A Jew in a mackintosh, who seemed to be drunk, led them on. -When they reached the villa itself their leader asked to be allowed -to speak alone with Tisza. The soldiers remained in the hall. Tisza -received the stranger. He noticed that the man had a revolver, and, with -a movement of his hand, showed him that he too had one in his pocket. -The man was cowed by this and asked Tisza if he was not hiding a certain -judge of a military tribunal who was his enemy and with whom he wanted -to settle. Tisza answered that nobody was hiding in his house. At this -the man and the soldiers left. Did they come to inspect the premises and -get “the lie of the land” or did they come with the intention of killing -him? - -In several provincial towns it was reported at three o’clock in the -afternoon, when Tisza was still alive, that he had been killed. In the -suburbs too the rumour of his assassination spread early in the forenoon, -and at about four o’clock, in the Otthon Literary Club, Paul Kéri, -Károlyi’s confidential man, was heard by several people to remark, after -looking at his watch: “Tisza’s life has an hour and a half more to run.” - -The policeman who had been sent there by the Wekerle government to guard -Tisza were replaced by others before the 31st of October. The new men -were restless, and their sergeant asked Tisza to obtain reinforcements. -Tisza replied that as he had not asked for any guards it was not his -business to ask for reinforcements. In the afternoon the sergeant came -and said that he and his men were going to leave. It was impossible to -telephone from the villa: the exchange answered but did not make the -required connection. Everything seemed to be conspiring against him. The -people in the house saw the police no more after this. They had not left, -but they did not show themselves. Later on Tisza’s brother-in-law and -his nephew came and brought news of the upheaval in the town and said -that the power had fallen into the hands of Michael Károlyi. Tisza wanted -to go down to the Progressive Club and speak to his adherents, but his -wife implored him not to go. So he sent his brother-in-law and asked his -nephew to go with him. - -Meanwhile it was getting dark, and the rabble in the street assumed a -more and more threatening attitude. The gate of the garden was again -being forced. No help could be expected from any quarter. The house was -now besieged, and there was no way out.... - -Where were Tisza’s friends and followers at this time? In the hour of his -Golgotha there were but two women to share it with him. And history will -not forget the names of those two women. - -About five in the afternoon the shooting in the street became louder. -The house-bell rang. The valet ran in and said that eight armed soldiers -were in the house. Meanwhile two soldiers went down to the policemen -and disarmed them in the name of the National Council. They made no -resistance: eight men submitted to two. All this time the valet with -tears in his eyes was imploring his master to escape by the window. -Tisza put his hand on the man’s shoulder: “I thank you for your faithful -services. God bless you!” Then the three were left alone for a short -time, he and the two women. “I will not run away; I will die just as I -have lived,” said Tisza. He took a revolver and went out into the hall. -His wife and Denise Almássy went with him. Soldiers with raised arms were -waiting for him, cigarettes in their mouths. - -“What do you want?” Tisza asked. - -“We want Count Stephen Tisza.” - -“I am he.” - -The soldiers shouted at him to put his revolver down. Tisza had said -several times during the day that he would defend himself if it could -do any good. But now he put down his revolver. This showed that he -considered the situation hopeless. Yet he never winced for an instant. -All his life he had been strong and brave, and now he was true to -himself. He did not ask for his life but faced death boldly. One of the -soldiers began a harangue, telling Tisza that he was the cause of the -war and must pay for it. This soldier had carefully manicured nails.... -Another said that he had been a soldier for eight years and that Tisza -was to blame for it. Tisza answered: “I did not want the war.” At -this moment a clock struck somewhere in the dark. One of the soldiers -exclaimed: “Your last hour has struck.” Then the cigarette-smoking -assassins fired a volley. One bullet struck Tisza in the chest, and he -fell forward. Denise Almássy was wounded too and collapsed. Tisza was -lying on the floor when they fired again into him. Then they left. - -In the dim light of the hall, filled with the smoke of gunpowder, the -dying Tisza lay on the floor, and the powerful hand which had once -governed a kingdom waved in its last movement tenderly towards those -whom he loved: “Do not cry.... It had to be!” - -So he died as he had lived. His sublime fate had been accomplished. -Life and death had produced a greater scene than the genius of the -Greek writers of tragedies could accomplish. The fate of a whole nation -is reflected in the bitter bloody fate of one of her sons. Tisza fell -like an oak—and in his fall tore up the soil in which his life was -rooted. While he stood, nobody knew how tall he was. Like a tree in the -wilderness, it was possible only to measure him when he had fallen. - -Stephen Tisza died in the same hour as Hungary. Those who murdered him -will die in the hour of Hungary’s resurrection. - - * * * * * - - _November 7th._ - -I was due to go on duty at the railway station this morning. I started -from home in the dark. Rain was falling. Under the occasional lamps the -murky neglected asphalt was like the rough skinned hide of some giant -animal. The house-doors were still closed, and in front of the sleeping -buildings the garbage stood in boxes and baskets on the edge of the -pavement. Here and there in the dim light of the streets an early-riser -passed. - -The trams were filled with workmen. Sitting opposite me two -evil-intentioned eyes glared at me out of a heavy coarse face. They were -looking at the crown over the red cross on my coat. - -“Don’t wear that, there is no more crown.” - -“There is for me, and I worked under that sign during the whole war.” The -man grumbled, but said no more to me. Later, I was told that for wearing -this emblem of charity a lady was hit in the face in the street. - -At the station there was dense, frightful disorder. With a loud echo -crowded trains rolled under the glass roof. The carriages were like ruins -and their walls were riddled with bullet holes, for out on the open track -bands of robbers shoot at the trains. The windows were smashed and the -steps were falling off. Men were standing, shivering with cold, on the -roofs, the steps, and even on the buffers of the in-coming trains. The -noise was appalling. Thousands of returning soldiers fought their way in -wild disorder. - -[Illustration: “ON THE ROOFS OF THE INCOMING TRAINS.” - -(_To face p. 96._)] - -On the concrete floor of the platform, ankle-deep in mud, the splashing -of innumerable shortened steps made a sickly noise. Russian prisoners, -Serbians, Roumanians, stormed the waggons before they were quite empty. -Home.... Home.... - -They pushed each other, swore. They climbed in by the windows because -there was no more room by the doors. A man employed at the station -told me that during the war the daily number of passengers had been -about thirty thousand. Now two hundred thousand come and go in a day. -Trains able to carry 1500 passengers now carry 9000. Travelling is -deadly dangerous: the axles cannot bear the excessive loads, and out -of the desperate chaos there comes occasionally the news of some awful -catastrophe. Hundreds of soldiers coming from the Italian front were -swept off the roof at the entrance of tunnels. Corpses mark the road home. - -Another train entered with shrill noise, bringing refugees and soldiers -from the undefended frontiers. The refugees spread their news. Czech -_komitadjis_ mixed with regulars have invaded Upper Hungary. The Czechs -have crossed the frontier in Trencsén and are marching on Pressburg. -Wherever they pass they drive the Hungarian officials in front of them, -and impose levies. - -A woman from Nagy Becskerek lamented loudly, plaintively, like the -whistling of the wind in the chimney. - -“Dear, oh dear, the town is in the hands of the Serbians. In Ujvidék -they are looting. They cross the frontier and nobody resists them. Only -the German soldiers are pulling up the rails. And the Roumanians!... The -Roumanians!...” - -A Székler woman sobs desperately. - -“And the government has forbidden any armed resistance. Why, in the name -of goodness, why?... How can one understand it? For a Galician trench, -for a rock on the Carso thousands and thousands of Hungarians have -died. Yet nobody defends our own soil! Wherever it has been attempted -threatening orders have been sent from Budapest.” - -The government has given orders that no resistance is to be offered -to the foreign troops, so the authorities have to content themselves -with protesting and let the inhabitants remain quietly in their homes. -No opposition whatever to the troops of occupation!... And if this -order is disregarded anywhere, detachments of sailors are sent from -Budapest—escaped convicts and robbers, who arrest the organisers of -patriotic resistance. Agitators creep among the people arming for -resistance, Jews from Pest who incite to pillage. The people, stupid and -misguided, crowd round them. Then things move quickly: they are told that -peace has come and that everything is theirs. The crowd goes mad. It -cares no more for country, for the enemy. There is no more resistance and -all their anger is directed against the authorities and the landlords. -The rabble start pillaging. There is general disorder and in the upheaval -somebody turns up who, on pretence of restoring order, calls in the army. -A foreign armed patrol enters: eighteen men who stick up their flag and -beat down the Hungarian arms. And our folk just stare and look as if they -were sleep-walking lunatics. - -That is what they say, all of them, wherever they come from. One -Hungarian town after the other falls into enemy hands. What we have held -for a thousand years is lost in a single hour, and foreign occupations -spread over Hungary’s body like the spots of a plague. The names of towns -and villages.... A wild, desperate shout for help rises continually in -me: “Is there nobody who can save us?” - -The crowd of refugees rolled past me. - -“They have pillaged our house! They have burnt down our cottage!”... Two -men lifted a half-naked old man out of a cattle truck. His beautiful -noble gray head wobbled as they carried him. His face looked like wax. -Whence did they come? Nobody inquired. From everywhere, all round us!... -And the refugees are being crammed into hotels, unheated emergency -dwellings, cold school-rooms. At the stations mountains of luggage grow -up on the platforms: huge piles, the remaining possessions of whole -families; bundles tied up in tablecloths; washing-baskets; crammed -perambulators; gladstone bags; fowl-houses; trunks and portmanteaux. And -the pathetic piles grow and grow from hour to hour in wild disorder.... - -More Russians were coming from the entrance. Soldiers hustled the people -with the butt-ends of their rifles. “Go on, Ruski!” A heavy animal -stench drifted behind them. Desperate men struggled round the piles of -trunks.... A boy dragging an immense old leather bag.... In front of a -broken trunk an old lady kneels in the mud. She wears a sable coat and -her head is covered with a peasant woman’s neckerchief, just as she had -managed to escape. She weeps loudly, wringing her delicate hands. All -her possessions have been stolen on the way. Nobody heeds her. Children -shriek and cannot tell whence they came. They want their mother, lost -during the flight. In one carriage a little girl has been trampled to -death in the throng. Soldiers carry her dead on a stretcher. From the -other side across the rails, a woman comes running: she jumps wildly and -her hair flutters madly in front of her eyes. She screams. She has not -yet got there, she has seen nothing, but she knows; it was hers, it was -hers.... - -Meanwhile Polish Jews, slinking along the walls, bargained.... They -pounced on the soldiers back from the front, and bought Italian money. At -the exit armed sailors made a disturbance and took eggs and fat from the -baskets of peasant women. Agitators with red ribbons round their arms, -delegates of the Soldiers’ Council, distributed revolutionary handbills; -one of them made a speech. The soldiers surrounded him, some listened, -some laughed, scratched their heads, and, as they went on, no longer -saluted their superiors. - -A train came in with a shrill cry, as if it were a refugee itself, -panting and shabby after its long flight, and poured out more people. -Wounded soldiers dragged themselves to the refreshment room. The foot of -one was wrapped in a newspaper: the red guards at the Austrian frontier -had taken his boots. More refugees. Once they had a home, they had a -fireside.... Now all is lost! Hunger stares imploringly out of their eyes -and they reach for their crust of bread as if they were asking for alms. - -What hast thou done, Károlyi? - -I went home with a reeling head. Morning had extinguished the gas lamps -a long while ago. I looked in the faces that passed me in the gray light -of day. Are these refugees too? The town around me was shabby and dirty. -Grimy flags flapped from the houses in the cold air. They were still -there to proclaim their impudent lie—“the people’s victory.” - -We have lost the war. Foreign troops invade Hungary, tens of thousands of -refugees tramp the streets, and Budapest feasts her traitors and stands -beflagged in the centre of the collapsing country. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - - _November 8th._ - -The wind chases the clouds above the Danube. It whistles down the -chimneys. The streets of Buda shiver between the houses. - -The tram to our hills was practically empty. Everybody has come to town -and the houses stand abandoned. The strokes of axes resound in the woods, -and trembling townspeople steal scraps of wood along the roadside. Shabby -clerks, teachers, women pick up brushwood in the thickets. Now and then a -shot is heard from the hills. Thousands of disbanded soldiers have taken -their rifles with them and are shooting game freely all over the country. -The woods are crowded with poachers. Blood-stains. A rotting carcase. -Hungary’s famous game is on the verge of extinction. - -I reached our villa and walked round the abandoned house. It has not yet -been broken into. The wind was twisting the dead leaves along the road -into ropes. There was a dry rattle everywhere, and the branches of the -bare trees knocked together in the moving air. An old woman walked down -the road and her thin silken skirt fluttered in the wind. She must have -known better days, and now she carried firewood on her back. There is no -wood to be got in town. What will happen in winter? We shall freeze.... - -Coming back I bought a newspaper through the tram window. Many hands were -stretched out. Opposite me a young ensign bought one too. The torn off -insignia of his rank had left their mark on the collar of his uniform. -Well disposed officers have ceased to wear uniforms. It has become a -livery of shame, and is worn only by those who have nothing else to wear. -This one looked like one of that category. Only deserters, civilians, and -those who shirked the war now wear uniforms. - -I began to read the midday paper. Belgrade.... Everything around me -disappeared. Through the printed letters of the paper I saw the Serbian -town as I had known it long ago. The Danube was rolling past the wharf, -there was the high fort, once Hunyadi’s impregnable Hungarian stronghold, -the Konak; and between the trees beyond the town the small convent where, -under the oil-painted planks of the floor, without any monument, the -massacred bodies of the last Obrenovic and his mutilated Serbian queen, -Draga, lie. Then I thought of the garden of Topcider and its oriental -little Kiosk where Serbian Gypsies used to fiddle and sing. Officers, -in brilliant uniforms after the Russian pattern, took their afternoon -substitute for tea at small round tables, eating onions with bread. Some -of them had the ribbon of an Order on their chest. A Serbian explained to -me proudly that this Order was bestowed only on those who had taken an -active part in the events that cleared the road to the throne for Peter -Karageorgevic. - -Herds of cattle were driven through the ill-paved streets. Manure, dirt, -bugs, rubbish, and flies—big, shiny, blue flies. The Skupstina.... When -I saw that I could not help thinking of Hungary’s house of Parliament. -The two buildings proclaimed both the past and the culture of the two -peoples. Ours is a Gothic blossom, with its roots in the Danube, the -bed of which is the grave of our first conqueror, Attila, who received -tribute from Rome and Byzantium, and sleeps there his sleep of fifteen -hundred years. When I saw the Serbian Parliament it was a building like a -stable, with wooden benches in it and the walls covered with red, white -and blue stuff. Its air was reeking with the scent of onions and sheep, -while the windows were obscured with fly marks. - -Since I had been there this small Balkan town must have suffered much. -The soldiers of Mackensen and Kövess had passed victoriously over its -ruins. Now Károlyi and Jászi, with the delegates of the Workers’ and -Soldiers’ Council, go there a-begging. - -Why did they go there? Why just there? The jerking of the wheels of the -tram seemed to repeat rhythmically “Why just there, why just there....” - -According to the official news the French general was haughty and -ruthless. He took Károlyi’s memorandum, turned his back on him, and -banged the door.... - -This memorandum reveals the unsavoury truth when it complains that within -twenty-four hours after assuming power Károlyi had promised to the Allies -to lay down arms at once, but his offer had been prevented by the common -High Command from reaching its destination. The High Command had isolated -Hungary from the Allied powers, and had cut the telephone wires. It -had charged General Weber to negotiate in the name of the old Monarchy -with General Diaz, the Italian Commander-in-Chief. Károlyi’s memorandum -protested against this because “nobody but the delegates of the Hungarian -people are entitled to negotiate for independent Hungary. This is the -reason for our appearance,” ended this disgraceful document. - -So it was nobody who called for them, nobody who sent these people who -claim to be the representatives of the Hungarian people. Károlyi the -gambler gambles in Belgrade. He plays an iniquitous game. He cheats for -his own pocket while his own country loses. - -The newspaper was executing a wild dance in my hands while I read the -memorandum. Surely men have never written anything like this about their -own country. They go to ask for an armistice and accuse us before our -enemies. “We oppressed the nationalities, we were tyrants....” I felt as -if something had been poured down my throat which it was impossible to -swallow. I choked for a time, and my blood was beating a mad tattoo at -the sides of my head. He who wrote that lied in hatred, while those who -transmitted it were cretins or criminals. - -In his answer to the memorandum the French general was insulting and -contemptuous. The shame of it all! They are slighted and we bear the -disgrace. Every word of Franchet d’Esperay was a slap in the face to -Károlyi and his fellows. What unfathomable contempt must have been felt -by this old Norman nobleman, this patriotic soldier, for Károlyi and his -Bolshevick Internationalist companions! - -Workers’ Council.... Soldiers’ Council.... - -He looked sternly at the Semitic features of Jászi and the faun-like face -of Hatvany as he said: - -“You only represent the Hungarian race and not the Hungarian people.” - -Then he answered the clumsy, cunning sentence of the memorandum, sprung -from the brain of some journalistic fantast: “From the first of November -Hungary ceases to be a belligerent and becomes a neutral country.” - -“The Hungarians have fought side by side with the Germans and with the -Germans they will suffer and pay.” - -An answer to those who shouted in Parliament over dying Hungary “we are -friends of the Entente,” an answer to Károlyi, who in the interest of his -personal ascendency intrigued with Prague, Bukarest and Belgrade. - -“The Czechs, Slovakians, Roumanians and Yugo-Slavs are the enemies of -Hungary, and I have only to give the order and you will be destroyed.” - -I forced my eyes to overcome my shame and anger, and read on. - -Followed the conditions of the armistice.... Not conditions, but orders -born of revenge and hatred dictated by the commander of an armed force to -the self-appointed, obtruding envoys of a disarmed people. - -Horrible nightmare.... The Hungarian government has to evacuate huge -territories in the east and in the south. Hungarian soil must be -delivered over to the Balkan forces. We must surrender from the Szamos to -the Maros-Tisza line, from the Danube to the Sloveno-Croatian frontier, -that which has been ours for a thousand years. - -Eighteen points.... Eighteen blows in the face of the nation. After this -Hungary is a country no longer, she is a surrounded quarry thrown to the -fury of the pack. The Kill.... - -Poor country of mine, poor countrymen.... - -Suddenly I saw the letters no more: something had covered them, as the -stones at the bottom of a brook are rendered indistinct by the waves -above. I wiped my eyes and looked up. Had others read it too? The little -ensign had. He was weeping silently. He sat there with his head bowed, -crushing the newspaper in his fist. I looked round. Faces had changed -since I had read the paper. The others had read it too. Strangers began -to talk to each other excitedly:—“I always told you so, Károlyi alone -could bring us a good peace. He got it in two days. It was said that he -alone could save us....” - -For an instant the misguided people seemed to have regained their -consciences. Terrified disappointment, bitter complaints filled the car. -Most of them cursed the French general furiously, and remarks of a new -kind were heard about Károlyi too. Something had become clear.... Or did -I only see my own views in the eyes of the others? - -“It isn’t all that,” said a gentleman to his neighbour; “we must not -judge hastily.” And he read aloud that the delegates of the government -had made the signing of the armistice conditional. These conditions were -set out in a dispatch which was forwarded through Franchet d’Esperay to -Paris. “It is clear,” the gentleman said, “that the government will only -sign the armistice if the Entente powers guarantee the old frontiers -of Hungary till the conclusion of peace. Károlyi will manage the peace -treaty all right. His confidential friends say that he can carry -everything before him in Paris. He will get peace in six weeks.” - -The exhausted people clung to these words. The protesting telegram -had destroyed the finality of the catastrophe.... And those who a few -minutes ago had spoken desperately, sent their tired souls to sleep -with self-deceiving optimism. They became quiet. They crowded together -and looked out of the window. A woman yawned aloud. Behind my back they -talked of the high prices: potatoes had gone up again.... - -When I came home my mother was sitting in the little green room near the -window. She sat passively in the twilight, she who was always busy with -something. When the door opened she turned towards me and raised her head -slightly to be kissed. I saw in the twilight her kind blue eyes, which, -in spite of years, had retained their youth and lustre. They now looked -at me in indescribable grief. A newspaper lay on the table. - -“Have you read it?” I asked. - -“I have....” - - * * * * * - - _November 9th._ - -Huge white posters have appeared on the walls. All along the streets -everything is covered with them. They are posted on the shop windows, on -the windows of the coffee-houses. They appear between the announcements -of the kinematographs in the advertisement columns. Not orders, not -regulations, not proclamations: from far away I could see it, one word at -the top of them all: A BALLAD. - -It is an old, sweet word, one which seems to come from olden days -bringing a message to the new: a ballad.... I scanned one of the posters, -but was unable to decipher the smaller words. I had to cross the road. -While doing so I pondered: will this ballad contain that which we are -waiting for, the cry of Hungary’s agony? The rebelling voice of our -sufferings? Is it an old ballad, or one of the later ones? Or is it by -some misled poet who has helped to burn his ancestor’s soil and had aided -the band of Jews to make the revolution? Has the erring soul returned -to the fold of his race and does he give voice to the tortures of the -betrayed Hungarian land into which Balkan robbers are already setting -their teeth? Or is it by one who could shape into our language the -sufferings of homeless Dante, who could put into verse the moaning of the -dread storm that rages over the Great Plain? - -Not they, it is not Hungarians who speak. The sickly verses of one Renée -Erdös polluted the air, plastered up by the government all over the town. - - “And he went to Belgrade, good Michael Karolyi - sad Michael Karolyi - great Michael Karolyi.” - -And this was stuck up on every house in Budapest. What a childish game! -The ballad is meant to create sympathy for Michael Károlyi, so that anger -against him shall not rise in people’s hearts; it attempts to transfer -to him the pity that the nation should feel for itself. And as though by -a word of command, the whole press of Budapest is writing in the same -strain. The newspapers practically hide the conditions of the armistice -and enlarge on the rude contempt of the French general. In their columns -Károlyi has became a martyr who has suffered for the nation. - -The people in the street stopped and read the ballad, and now and then -somebody said: “Poor Michael Károlyi!” But even while this was being said -bitter news spread over the town, news which none could stop. The truth -about the Belgrade meeting has filtered through, and already people are -clenching their fists. - -Franchet d’Esperay had come to the meeting in an aeroplane from Salonika. -He stationed a guard of honour in front of his hotel. He wore full dress -uniform, with all his decorations, and thus received those whom he -believed to be the envoys of Hungary. Michael Károlyi and his friends -appeared in shooting-jackets, breeches, gaiters: as if they were out for -a holiday. The general glared in astonishment at the motley company. -He became cold and contemptuous, shook hands with nobody, and folded -his arms over his chest. Astonished at first, he became ironical as he -listened to Károlyi’s faulty speech. After taking possession of the -accusing memorandum (which had been edited by Jászi) he ranged the -company within the light of his lamp and looked attentively at one after -the other. - -“_Vous êtes Juif?_” he asked Hatvany; then looking at Jászi and Károlyi, -he said, “You are Jews, too?” - -His face showed undisguised disgust when Károlyi introduced to him, as -an achievement of the revolution, the delegates of the Workers’ and -Soldiers’ Council. He pointed at the collar of Csernyák, the delegate -of the Soldiers’ Council, whence the insignia of rank had been removed: -“_Vous êtes tombés si bas?_” Then, instead of bowing, he threw his head -back haughtily, turned on his heel, and left them. He dined with his -officers, and did not invite the delegation, though the table had been -laid for them. - -The self-delegated men looked at each other in dismay. How were they to -report this to the befooled, betrayed country, which had been rocked to -sleep for months by the recital of Károlyi’s connections with the Allies, -and the belief of a good peace?... In their fear they accused each other, -and one of them said to Károlyi: “In Budapest you were feasted like a -demi-god, and here you are treated like a dog....” - -Károlyi and his friends went without dinner that day in Belgrade, and -after his dinner General Franchet d’Esperay put on his field uniform and -with hard words handed the delegation the terrible, degrading conditions -of the armistice. - -This happened in Belgrade on the 7th of November. One day later, -yesterday evening, the members of the government went solemnly to the -railway station to accord a triumphant welcome to the delegation. -Countess Károlyi, Mrs. Jászi and other “revolutionary ladies” (as they -like to be styled) were there too. But the festal crowd waited in vain. -Károlyi and his following dared not face them.... They had stopped the -special train at a little side-station, got out quietly, and dispersed in -the ill-lit streets. - -It was through a back-door that they brought their shame from Belgrade -into the betrayed town. - - * * * * * - - _November 10th._ - -A leaden gray rain is falling. From the wall of the old neglected house -opposite a big piece of plaster is washed off and falls with a splash -into the street, where pieces of it fly in all directions. It is Sunday. -Nobody passes along the street. Only the rain drives before the window. -It comes and goes again, and writes something on the panes. - -The republican party has called a mass meeting for this afternoon. -Organised labour and organising good-for-nothings, the Soldiers’ Council, -the officers, the non-commissioned officers ... meetings everywhere. -And everywhere discourses on the supremacy of the people, its rights, -democracy, independence and freedom. But no mention is made of Belgrade. -There is no protest meeting or demonstration against the conditions of -the armistice. With its cunning lies the faithful, servile press of -Károlyi has hoodwinked the crowd again. The town hides the shame of -Belgrade in silence, as if it were not its concern, as if it had lost all -self-respect. The crowd, stupid and good-tempered, continues on the road -which it trod yesterday. Blind flocks of sheep and herds of blinkered -oxen, thoughtless and sightless masses, following their degraded leader -towards the precipice. They are going, and why does he delay who is to -bring salvation? - -The rain writes ghostly characters on my window as well as on the panes -of the house opposite. That is all; nothing else happens. - -Nothing? I must be mad to write such a thing. Does not every day bring -with it the collapse of something which had always existed, ever since I -was born, and before that, long before that?... It is incomprehensible. -One reads only the news, and when one has read that it seems impossible, -and one half expects somebody will laugh, or a voice will tell us that it -is not true and that everything is really as it used to be. Yet we wait -in vain.... And again we believe that nothing will happen. - -Meanwhile loyal Bavaria has driven King Louis out of the country. The -Soldiers’ and Workers’ Council in Saxony has made a proclamation to the -people: “The King has been deprived of his throne, the Wettin dynasty has -ceased to exist.” Baden has expelled its ruler, and the Grand Duke of -Hesse is a prisoner of the mob. Wurtemburg, Brunswick, Weimar.... Ancient -thrones, legendary old courts, centres of culture, art-loving little -residences, all collapse in a few minutes. It is as if some giant Hatred -roams abroad, demolishing everything it finds standing, from east to west. - -All the faithful German princes have lost their thrones. The only one -who still wears a crown is the one who has shown himself faithless—the -Hohenzollern down there in Roumania. And the Kaiser has fled to Holland -from his unhappy Empire. - -Kaiser Wilhelm has resigned his throne! As the news spreads this fresh -token of the mutability of human affairs causes a shudder even in those -who worked for it with hatred and received it with shouts of triumph. - -Since Napoleon, nobody has been so violently hated on this globe as he. -Doubtless this will be the measure of his importance in history. It will -judge his power by the fact that against Napoleon England had allied only -a fraction of Europe, while against the Hohenzollern the whole world was -forced to rise in arms. - -The cause of the two Emperors’ downfall is the same. Napoleon wanted to -make France the first power of the world, and Kaiser Wilhelm dreamt the -same dream for the German Empire. Neither of them could stop half-way. - -Is it a Saint Helena that fate has in store for Kaiser Wilhelm? Will -the Dutch castle that has received him turn out to be a replica of the -_Bellerophon_? - -The Kaiser was a friend of the Hungarians. Once in the royal castle of -Buda he proposed the health of the Hungarian nation. Since the rule of -the Hapsburgs no crowned head has ever spoken to us like that. His speech -was printed in school books, the children learned it by heart, and the -memory of the Kaiser stayed with us. But he never came again to our -midst. During the war he went to Vienna, to Sophia and to Constantinople. -He never stopped at Budapest. And while the Hungarian people waited for -him whose soldiers had bled with ours at three gates of our country, he -was forced to bear in mind the jealousy of Vienna. His picture was in -the shop-windows, Budapest had named its finest boulevard after him, the -colours of his Empire floated everywhere and if his train touched the -country’s soil the newspapers wrote in his homage. - -In 1916 Tisza went to the German General Headquarters. The Roumanians -had just invaded Transylvania and he asked for troops and help for his -hard-pressed country. - -“Will the Hungarians be grateful for it?” asked the Kaiser. - -“We shall be grateful,” answered Stephen Tisza. - -They have torn the contract of our alliance, but a common misfortune -can write a more permanent alliance than any human hand. Marshal Foch’s -document stating the conditions of the armistice with Germany is the twin -of the ruthless writing of Belgrade. Wilson’s mask has fallen and the -victors beggar us and let loose upon us the blood-stained cloud which -comes from the East to cover the despair of betrayed peoples. - -On this cloud obscure strangers steal over the Russian border into the -heart of Europe and join with those whose features resemble theirs. -And there are such in Paris, in London, and in New York too.... They -have invaded the greater half of Europe. In Russia Trotski-Bronstein, -Krassin-Goldgelb, Litvinoff-Finkelstein, Radek and Joffe are -all-powerful. In Munich Kurt Eisner is the master and president of the -Republic. In Berlin Beerfeld is at the head of the Soldiers’ Council and -Hirsch at the Workmens’. In Vienna the power is in the hands of Renner, -Adler, Deutsch and Bauer. And in Budapest.... - -Is this all accidental? - -Carrion-crows on dying nations.... They hack out the eyes that still see, -they pierce the still throbbing hearts with their beaks, tear shreds of -flesh from the convulsed members. And nowhere does anyone appear to drive -them away. - -Nothing happens.... Silently, silently, like speechless despair, the rain -beats at my window. - - * * * * * - - _November 11th._ - -I might have known that it would end like this! - -Károlyi and his government decided yesterday afternoon that they would -accept the Belgrade conditions without alterations.... The French Premier -did not even deign to answer their protesting telegrams. He looked -over their heads and would not speak to them. Instead he sent direct -instructions to Franchet d’Esperay: “I request you to treat with Count -Károlyi military questions only, to the exclusion of all other matters. -This is final. Clemenceau.” - -In the old palace of the Prime Minister, up there in the castle of Buda, -the cabinet met in council. At first Károlyi was greatly excited, then, -tired of listening to the others, he stretched his long legs, plunged -his hands into his pockets, and with his head bowed on his chest stared -into a corner where nothing was going on. The ministers of his party -were nervous. The socialist and radical ministers were cool. Linder is a -minister no more. He was perpetually drunk. Brandy bottles stood on his -ministerial writing-table and in his ante-room sailors were constantly -drinking. The government has relieved him and put Lieutenant Colonel -Bartha into his place. But “to make sure of Linder’s valuable services -for the future” he was invited to go to Belgrade and sign the conditions -of the armistice in the name of the Hungarian authorities.... - -It all looks as if it were a systematical, devilish conspiracy. -Apparently they want to degrade us as much as possible so as to make it -easier for them to tread on us. After the delegation in shooting jackets, -a dipsomaniac lieutenant goes to Belgrade, and with his watery eyes and -alcoholic breath represents Hungary before the haughty French General. - -And while Linder was preparing for his journey, Károlyi made a speech at -the National Council, meant to encourage and reassure those who wanted to -rob Hungarian territory. - -The Serbian troops have crossed the frontier and are advancing rapidly -into the country. On their national holiday the Czechs have decided to -occupy all counties to the possession of which they aspire. The Czech -troops have started and are fast overrunning the country.... Their -plan is to occupy Pressburg and Upper Hungary. This means seventeen to -nineteen counties. The situation on the Roumanian side is serious too. -Roumania has decided to order a general mobilisation.... “In the full -knowledge of our physical inability and of the right of our cause,” -Károlyi finally declared, “we can only rely on justice. Consequently -I propose that we sign the treaty of armistice with General Franchet -d’Esperay, _and when we have signed it, every invasion becomes simply an -act of violence. Whoever invades us, we shall protest, raise our warning -voice, and appeal to the judgment of the civilised world; but we shall -offer no armed opposition_, because we want, and are going to stand by, -the conditions of the armistice.” - -The so-called Prime Minister of Hungary, from the very heart of Hungary, -promises to our little neighbours, when they start on their plundering -expeditions, that if they come they shall not be interfered with, that -they will meet no armed opposition. And so Michael Károlyi, in the -hearing of the National Council and of the united Cabinet, calls in the -Serbians, Roumanians and Czechs. - -With trembling lips I read the words of this shameful speech. What does -Michael Károlyi get for this infamous job?... It is but two hundred years -since his ancestor Alexander Károlyi received from the Emperor of Austria -the domains of Erdöd, Huszt, Tarcalt and Marosvásárhely, at the valuation -of fifty thousand pieces of gold, and the crown of a count (on to which -the herald painter at Vienna painted by mistake two more pearls than the -other Hungarian counts wear) for his betrayal of Rákoczi, the Hungarian -champion. The crown of the Counts Károlyi has eleven pearls. Was it for -those two pearls that the democratic Károlyi was haughtier than any man -of his rank? He wore them and wears them to this day, when he is making -a republic. He wears the rank bestowed on him by the Hapsburgs, while -he deprives the Hapsburgs of theirs. He insists on being called the -Right Honourable Count, and that his wife be called the Right Honourable -Countess, while those who are the source of his title are called in his -press Charles Hapsburg and Joseph Hapsburg! He uses the King’s special -train, his motor-car, and at the opera sits with his wife in the royal -box. He intends to occupy the royal castle too. One day after dinner, in -the intimacy of his family, smoking his cigar, he said casually: “I’ll -make the King resign.” But his two advisers, Kéri and Jászi, advised him -that this should not be done by him or by the government. The Hungarian -educated classes were attached to the crown and the peasantry was loyal -to the King. - -I met an old acquaintance this afternoon. It was he who reported to -me this opinion of Károlyi’s Councillors. It was told to him by quite -reliable people. Paul Kéri said: “One never knows. Let the odium of -it be attached to someone else. We had the German Alliance broken by -some outsider; let us get the resignation of the King effected by other -people. The most suitable people would be the magnates. If it suits the -people, it is a good card in our hand that even the counts don’t want the -King. If they don’t like it, let the nobility pay for it....” - -“They won’t find anybody to do it,” I said, as we walked side by side -through the crowded street. - -“You may be right,” my companion replied, shrugging his lean shoulders. -“I hear that Károlyi’s negotiations have all failed. And yet, the -matter becomes urgent for him. They want to hurry here too. They envy -the priority of Berlin and Vienna. Do you know that when the news of -the German events reached the Austrian National Council, it at once -decided for the republic, and the Emperor Charles yesterday signed his -resignation in Schönbrunn?” - -“No.... I did not know....” - -“Under the influence of this event Károlyi’s government admitted that it -did not intend to wait for the constitutional assembly to decide on the -form the Constitution should take. ‘Companion’ Bokányi abolished Kingship -on the day of the revolution.... He does not want it, nor does Kunfi, nor -Pogány. Baron Hatvany, Jászi and Paul Kéri are all against it; in short, -Kingship has to go.... They made Károlyi sign a declaration for form’s -sake, but that does not count. But if it interests you, let us go to the -editorial office of the _Pesti Naplo_ where we can read all about it.” - -In the lighted window, among the latest news, there it was, the text -of the proclamation: “The Hungarian National Council has addressed a -solemn request to the National Councils formed in the various towns and -communes, that they should decide at once whether they agree with the -decision of the Hungarian National Council that the future form of the -Hungarian state be that of a Republic. A rapid decision and immediate -answer are requested.” - -I felt the same inexpressible disgust that I always feel when I read the -writings of the new power. “An immediate answer is requested ...” as if -an agent were asking for orders ... “a rapid decision” ... as if it were -an auction of somebody’s old clothes: the crown of St. Stephen and the -traditions of a thousand Hungarian years. - -“Don’t let it annoy you,” my companion said bitterly; “it is only a -comedy. It makes no difference what they write, and it’s just the same -whatever the country answers. The secretariat of the Social Democratic -party and the other ‘companions’ have already settled the question. On -November the 16th they are going to proclaim the republic, and Károlyi is -to be President. And we shall say nothing and do nothing.” - -“And how long are we going to do nothing?” - -“What can one do? I was at the front for forty-four months. I was wounded -three times. I’m ill and I’m tired. And in other places it’s even worse -than here. In Berlin they are shooting in the streets. Officers, loyal -to the Kaiser, and the Red Guards cut each other’s throats in Unter den -Linden. Machine-guns fire from the roofs of the houses. Red sailors have -occupied the imperial palace, and corpses lie between the barricades. -Here, they rarely knock a man down, and they only take his watch once.” -He laughed painfully. “You know I was buried by a shell in my trench. -They had to dig for some time before they found me, and the earth was -heavy. Since then....” Horror showed in his eyes and he shivered. “It’s -no good struggling. We can’t get out. It was all in vain.” - -He turned his head away, and we went on side by side for some time -without a word; then he saluted clumsily and turned down a dark little -street. But although he had gone his voice remained with me, and as I -went on I could hear it over and over again; it came towards me, followed -me, kept pace with me: “It’s no good struggling ... we can’t get out ... -it was all in vain....” Those who suffer, those who are cold and hungry, -those who are beggars and cripples, those who had their orders torn from -their chests and the stars from the collars of their uniforms, all think -alike. Those who did the tearing had not seen the war, had stayed at -home, had lived in plenty and got rich; their numbers increased while -ours grew less; they won the war that we lost. - -“We are done for, it’s no good struggling.” Is that what I see written -in people’s eyes? Exhaustion and the endless “I’m ill and tired?”... Now -I understand. The best have fallen, and those who have come back are -wounded, though there be no wound on their bodies. Neither generals nor -statesmen can remedy this. - -I went home. The staircase was in darkness, the electric light had gone -wrong a few days ago and no workman could be found to repair it; all had -joined the unemployed’s bargaining federation. The front door bell was -out of order too. The electrician who always kept it in order had been -deserted by his men and had to attend to his shop himself. - -One has to knock at one’s own door nowadays, for it cannot be left -unbolted. Loafing soldiers pay visits to houses. One hears of nothing but -burglaries. - -As I went upstairs impressions of the streets of the decaying town passed -through my mind: the furious struggling crowd of crammed electric trams; -the ‘new rich’ in fur coats; dirty flags, the remains of last month’s -posters on grimy walls; coffee-houses with music within, crude noises and -lewd conversations; people loafing in front of coal merchants’ cellars. -The horror of the foul streets was still with me when I reached my room. - -My mother called to me. She was sitting in her room with a shaded lamp on -the table, and on the green velvet table-cloth the kings and queens of a -pack of little patience cards promenaded as if in a field. - -“Where have you been?” my mother asked. - -“I went to see about the coal.” - -“Well?” - -I did not want to tell her my visit had been in vain. “I shall have to -go again. I couldn’t settle matters to-day.” I thought of our empty -cellar and of the coal-office, the long queue of waiting people. Scenes -passed before me like the pictures of a kinematograph.... The window of -the _Pesti Naplo_. People were waiting there too.... Big letters, latest -news... Czechs, Roumanians, Serbs, and the names of ancient Hungarian -towns.... People said nothing and craned their necks to see.... -Everywhere the same tired faces.... And as if one voice were speaking for -them all: “It is no good struggling ... we can’t get out ... it was all -in vain”.... Yes, it is past the remedy of generals and statesmen.... - -All the time my mother was looking at me thoughtfully over her patience -cards. She said nothing, asked no questions, but leant forward and -stroked my head. It was unlike her: her tenderness was hardly ever -visible or heard. It was always there, but quietly, underneath. She -rarely showed her feelings, and lived behind a veil of self-control. In -my childhood it was only when I was ill or down-hearted that she showed -her true self, for my sake, not for hers. But lately, now that events -had caused old age to quicken his steps, the veil had been more often -drawn aside. I wanted so much to say something, to thank her for what -was beyond thanks. She stroked my hair.... How soothing it was! Her hand -knew a sweet, tender secret which it revealed only on the brows of her -children when they bent under the weight of sorrow. Dear loving hands! -They can accomplish what neither generals nor statesmen can. - -Something I cannot express in words rose within me in that moment. -Was it a foreboding, was it the clue that we were all seeking, was it -a presentiment of something I was to do? I cannot answer, but it was -something that should throw itself before the torrent of destruction, -should raise a dam before the motherland and its women, the faithful, the -prolific, the holders of Hungary’s future.... To protect those who see -things with eyes different from those of generals and statesmen. - -A carriage stopped in front of the house. Who could it be? For days I -had seen practically nobody. Social intercourse had almost ceased; one -did not even know what was happening to one’s best friends or where they -were. Everyone took refuge in his own home, and the threads that had -been broken in October had not yet been retied. A knock at the door, the -hinges creaked. Steps in the corridor. It was my friend Countess Raphael -Zichy. - -“Do you remember the last time we met? Up in the woods in a fog? And -while we were trying to guess what the future had in store for us the -rebellion had already started in the town.” - -“Then it must have been about the 30th of October.” - -“Since then everything has collapsed. Is there any force on earth that -could repair the havoc?” - -“Nothing ever can be repaired,” said my visitor, pensively. “The evil -always remains; but one can raise something good by its side that will -progress and leave the evil behind it.” - -“But is there anybody who can do this? We’re not organised, and everybody -is so despondent and tired. As long as this is so, nothing will ever -happen. It is this that has got to be cured first. I was thinking about -it just before you came: in defeat women are always greater than men. If -they could only be roused and set going they might restore the faith that -everybody seems to have lost.” - -“I’m already negotiating with the various Catholic women’s institutions,” -the Countess said, “and I hope to bring about their unity.” - -“I don’t want the unity of creeds,” said I; “I want the unity of -Hungarians. The forces of Destruction have united in one camp. All its -apostles work together. Why shouldn’t the forces of Regeneration unite as -well?” - -“I’m going to begin where I’m rooted,” answered my guest with an -enigmatic smile, while taking leave. “You’re like all Hungarians. You -want to do everything at once and carry everything before you....” - -She was right. She had started to work in the right way. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - - _November 12th._ - -What has happened? - -In front of one of the big schools sailors were lined up in a row. A -company, armed to the teeth, stood in the middle of the road. People -looked at each other curiously, anxiously. This school had an evil past. -In October the deserters had gathered together here, the armed servants -of the Károlyi revolution. It is said that Tisza’s murderers started from -this point. - -“What are they up to now?” - -“They’re Ladislaus Fényes’s sailors. They’re going to Pressburg against -the Czechs,” a lean, fair man said. - -Somebody sighed “Poor people of Pressburg!” The fair man made a -frightened sign to him to keep quiet. Behind his back an officer began -to talk excitedly. I could only hear half of what he said, but it was -something to the effect that in one of the barracks three thousand -soldiers and five hundred officers who were going to the defence of Upper -Hungary had been disarmed by the orders of Pogány. - -A broad, dark Jew, rigged out in field uniform, now came out of the -school building, a ribbon of national colours on his chest. His voice did -not reach me. I only saw his mouth move. He addressed the sailors, and -cheers rang through the street. The crowd rushed forward and I turned -back to escape it, tried to reach home by a circuitous route. Suddenly -I heard more cheering, and behind me the roadway resounded with heavy -steps. The detachment of sailors was marching to the railway station, -the mob accompanying it. The detachment was headed by the dark Jew, with -drawn sword, and behind him marched a criminal looking rabble dressed in -sailors’ uniforms. Most of them wore red ribbons in their caps, and the -deeply cut blouses displayed their bare, hairy chests. The last sailor -was a squashed nosed, sturdy man, his dirty pimpled face shone. Round his -bare neck he wore a red handkerchief. As he walked along he caught his -foot in something and looked back. Between his strong, bushy eyebrows and -protruding cheekbones his eyes were set deep. I shuddered. This riff-raff -going to the defence of Pressburg! Are such as they to recover Upper -Hungary? - -Then I remembered. The man at the head of the sailors must have been -Victor Heltai-Hoffer, who on the 31st of October, from the Hotel Astoria, -was nominated Commander of Budapest’s garrison. I was told that he had -been a contractor, but people from Károlyi’s entourage affirmed that -he had been a waiter in a music-hall of ill-fame. Later he became a -professional dancer, and during the war he lived by illicit trade, -dabbling in hay, fat and sugar. Those who were his accomplices are not -likely to be mistaken.... On the day of the revolution Heltai offered to -storm the Garrison’s command with a band of deserters. This disgraceful -success was followed by his nomination to the post of commander by -Fényes, Kéri, and the other National councillors. A few days ago queer -news was circulated about him, and he was suspended from his position. -Heltai is said to be in possession of certain disgraceful secrets -concerning those in power, and it was possible that he was put in command -of the Pressburg relief force in order to get rid of him. - -The noise of the sailors’ steps was lost in the hubbub of the street. -Carriages passed with their miserable lean horses, people went to and fro -with spiritless monotony. Although the sailors had long disappeared I -still seemed to see the last, with his squashed nose, his red tie. That -criminal face wore the expression of the whole contingent. - -[Illustration: HELTAI’S SAILORS. - -(_To face p. 120._)] - -And that horrible face under a cap worn on one side of the head is -everywhere in a country that putrifies. It appears in the light of the -burning houses, it enters at night into lonely manors, into cottages, it -rushes in under the portals of palaces, goes through the rooms, searches, -spies, and there is no escape from it. Whoever it pursues, it will -catch.... Then it wipes its bloody hands on silk or linen, and when its -heavy step has passed, death grins in the dark, pillaged room behind it. - -Once upon a time the word “sailor” brought to our minds the image of the -great, free expanse of oceans and shores. Now we hold our breath at its -sound, and shudder in horror. - -That face with the sailor’s cap worn rakishly on one side, that face with -the deep, loot-seeking eyes.... There it was in Moscow when thousands of -Imperial officers were slaughtered between the walls of the Kremlin. It -was in Petrograd in the hour of starkest horror, in Odessa, in Altona; -and in Helsingfors it bathed itself in the blood of Finns. It is now in -Berlin, in the Imperial castle on which the red flag floats. And it was -lurking in the courtyard of Schönbrunn Castle when the Emperor Charles -was driven from his home. - -I can see the large staircase of Schönbrunn by which the Emperor, the -Empress and their little fair children left their home, walking down -alone, expelled. In olden days a hundred footmen jumped at a sign of -their hand; courtiers bowed to the ground before them. Now, wherever they -looked, there was not one faithful eye for them; whoever they might call, -he would not come. - -When Francis Joseph was dying on his little iron camp-bed, in a room at -Schönbrunn, the heir to the crown and the Archduchess Zita wrung their -hands in their despair. “Good God, not yet, not yet”.... Then the door of -the old ruler’s room was opened: it had become a mortuary, and they two -walked slowly down the great gallery. The Court bowed low before them. -And they walked weeping, holding each other’s hands. Since then they have -been always walking, through many mistakes, disappointments, and tears, -and now they have reached the bottom of the staircase. - -The little Crown Prince, as he had been taught, saluted all the time -with his baby hands. “They won’t acknowledge it to-day, mother,” he said -sadly. The red-cockaded peoples’ guards who occupied the place turned -aside. - -The King, in civilian clothes, with bowed head, stepped out into the -open. The sound of his steps died away in the big, empty house, and the -darkness of the evening swallowed up the garden, under whose straight-cut -hedges, peopled with statues of gods and goddesses, the Hapsburgs had -passed so many lovely summers. - -When the royal motor-cars passed through the court of honour the usual -bugle-call did not resound; the guard did not turn out, and red flags -rose above the roofs of the houses of Schönbrunn. Over the gate the -double-headed eagle was covered with red rags; though it had been -predatory and had cruelly clawed peoples and countries, it had never -returned from its flight without bringing treasures for Vienna. And it -may be the greatest tragedy of the Hapsburgs that their unduly favoured -capital turned indifferently away from them when the scum of the red -power had driven them from home. - -The rapidly speeding car took the unfortunate prince to Eckhardsau, and -henceforth he lived under the protection of the National Council of the -Renners and Bauers. Who knows for how long? Who knows what is in store -for him? - - * * * * * - - _November 13th._ - -Every day has its news, and the news has eagle’s claws that tear the -living flesh. - -Behind the retreating Mackensen, Roumanians pour through the -Transylvanian passes. The Serbians have occupied the Banat and the -Bácska. Temesvár and Zombor are in their hands. The Czechs are advancing -towards Kassa and, after having robbed our land, they even want to -rob the country of its coat of arms. They have stolen our three hills -surmounted by a double cross and have assigned it as arms to Upper -Hungary, which they have named Slovensko. - -[Illustration: THE CROWN PRINCE OTTO (_de jure_ KING OF HUNGARY). - -(_To face p. 122._)] - -To-day Linder is going to sign in Belgrade the death-bearing armistice -conditions. In Arad, Jászi is distributing our possessions to the -Roumanians. Károlyi is intriguing to undermine the power of Mackensen, -who, at the head of forty to fifty thousand men, is the only armed hope -remaining in the midst of destruction. A deputation of magnates, all, -without exception, patriotic, faithful lords, has, inconceivably, arrived -at Eckhardsau, to ask the King for his resignation. It is more than one -can bear. - -The country is going through the horrors of decomposition while still -alive; its counterfeit head is rotting and its members falling off. -And there is no silence in our distracting grief; the great decay is -accompanied by revolting continuous applause. Those who cause the ruin -applaud themselves. In the press, in their speeches, on their posters, -in their writings: their applause drowns the groans of agony. The day -begins with this abject applause, for it appears in the morning papers, -and in the evening it follows us home and haunts our dreams; it tears -our self-respect to shreds, for it is a perpetual reminder of our own -impotence. The press with its foreign soul, which has enmeshed public -opinion completely, now prostitutes the soul and language of Hungary; it -has betrayed and sold us; it applauds our degradation, jeers and throws -dirt at the nation which has given its partisans a home. - -The chief writer of Budapest’s Jewish literature, Alexander Bródy, has -written an article in an evening paper about the German Emperor, of -whom he used to speak, not so long ago, when he was still in power, as -if he were a demi-god. Now he starts as follows: “One of the world’s -greatest criminals, Wilhelm Hohenzollern, has escaped from his country, -and in Holland has begged his way into the castle of Count Bentinck. -There he slept last night with about ten others, a trifling part of his -accursed race, with his always smart red-faced (because always drunk) -son, the wife of the latter, Cecilia, and with the Mother-Empress, that -shapeless female of the human species.” And he ends up: “Moaning, sick, -uncomfortable, the escaped Kaiser lies on his bed. And for the present -the ‘poor old man’ only trembles for his life; they may spit into his -face, they may put him on his bended knees—nothing matters so long as his -life is granted.” - -He who now writes like this is the master of those radical journalists -who form the major part of the present government. That is the spirit -which rules over the forum to-day. That is the tone which is assumed by -those who claim to speak for the nation, which for nearly a thousand -years has enjoyed the reputation of being the most chivalrous nation of -Europe. - -This article, however, roused Hungarian society even from its present -torpor. Only the meanest kick the unfortunate. The paper received several -thousand letters of protest, and many subscribers returned their copies. -But what is the good of that? The paper takes no notice of protests, and -the shame of the cowardly notice, like many other disgraceful actions -committed in our name, will recoil upon us, and we shall have to bear its -disgrace. - -How long must we suffer this? Good, gracious God, how long will it last? - -There is no place we can look to for consolation. From the frontiers, -narrowing round us every day, fugitive Hungarians are pouring in. On all -the roads of the land despoiled and homeless people are in flight. Carts -and coaches, pedestrians and herds of cattle mix on the highway, and the -trains roll along, dragging cattle trucks filled with homeless humanity. -Villages, whole towns in flight.... - -Maddened, with weeping eyes, half Hungary is escaping towards the capital -which has betrayed it. And the heart-breaking wave of humanity is no -longer an unknown crowd: familiar names are mentioned, and one perceives -familiar faces. They are coming by day and by night, those who have no -hearth, no clothes, not a scrap of food; and instead of their clean homes -they have to beg for quarters in low inns, for fantastic prices, even if -it is but for a single night.... - -Rain poured down in the street. A cold wind blew at the corners as I -walked with a little parcel under my arm towards a small hotel on the -boulevards. I got the news this morning: some dear, good people have -arrived there, robbed of everything they possessed. The hotel was -ill-ventilated and dirty. The lift did not work, and I climbed painfully -up the dark stairs. Muddy footsteps had left their mark on the dirty, -crumpled carpet. And the whole place was pervaded with a stench made up -of kitchen smells and the pungent odour of some insecticide. - -[Illustration: “ON ALL THE ROADS ... HOMELESS PEOPLE ARE IN FLIGHT.” - -_Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 124._)] - -In the dusk of the third floor’s corridor I could not distinguish the -numbers of the rooms. I opened a door at haphazard. The air of the room -met me like a filthy, corrupt breath. A Polish Jew in his gabardine -was standing near the window and, swaying from the hip, was explaining -something with an air of importance to a clean-shaven co-religionary, -dressed in the English style. A few men stood in the middle of the room, -and foreign banknotes tied in bundles lay on the table. They seemed to -be Russian roubles. One man threw a newspaper over the table and came -towards me. “What do you want?” he asked, rather embarrassed, though he -spoke threateningly. - -“I made a mistake,” I said, and banged the door. - -Behind the next door I found the friends for whom I was looking. The -wintry darkness was lit up by an electric light near the bed, on which -a pale little boy was lying. The other child was huddled up in a -chair, swinging his legs wearily. Their father stood with his back to -me, between the two wings of the curtain, and was gazing through the -window into the November rain. The mother was sitting motionless near -the little invalid; her two hands lay open in her lap, as if she had -dropped everything. When she recognised me she did not say a word, but -just nodded, and tears came to her eyes. Her husband turned back from -the window. His face was a picture of rebelling despair. He clenched his -fists, and, while he spoke, walked restlessly up and down the room. - -“The Roumanians have taken everything we possessed; nothing is left, -though we have worked hard all our lives. They robbed us in our very -presence. We had to look on and could do nothing to prevent it. Then they -drove us out of the house with this sick child.” - -“What is the matter with it?” - -“Typhus, and yet they showed no mercy.” - -The sick boy tossed his head from one side to the other and groaned in -his sleep. His groans are not the only ones that the shabby gray walls -had heard this year. Rooms that are never unoccupied, rooms like great -stuffy cupboards that are crammed with humanity. Their complements -arrive and are crammed into them, awaiting with trembling heart the hour -when some new arrivals, able to pay more, will crowd them out again. Up -and out on to the road again, to drag with them the horrible vision of -their lost land, their destroyed home, through the great town which has -squandered without mercy that which was theirs and now has no pity for -them. - -But there is also another drawer in the cupboard: that other room, the -man in his gabardine, the clean shaven one, the foreign money on the -table.... No, these don’t suffer. These have come to take possession of -what is left of Hungary. - -Through the influence of Trotski, Jews from Hungary who were prisoners of -war, became in Russia the dreaded tyrants of lesser towns, the heads of -directorates. The Soviet now sends these people back as its agents. Will -the government prevent them from coming? Will it arrest them? Probably -not. Many believe that during his stay in Switzerland Károlyi came to -an agreement with the Bolsheviki and now abets the world-revolutionary -aims of the Russian terror. Sinister tales circulate under the walls of -the houses of Pest. What madness! An agricultural country like Hungary -is no soil for that seed. And yet.... A few days ago an alarming rumour -spread. In vain did the government attempt to suppress it. The news -leaked out that as soon as it had come to power the government received -a wireless message from the Russian Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, who -sent their fraternal greetings and promised that the Russian Soviet -would send help and food if only the Hungarian proletariat would join -it in its war against the Capitalism of the Allies. For, said the -wireless: “The freeing of the toiling masses is possible only through a -proletarian world-revolution. Unite, Hungarian proletarians! Long live -the world-revolution! Long live the dictatorship of the proletariat! Long -live the world’s Soviet-republic!” - -This message, kindled by the fire of class hatred, spread its sparks over -the Russian swamps, over the Carpathians, and fell glowing into Károlyi’s -nefarious camp. Nobody trod on it to extinguish it, it was kept alive, -in secret, among them. No wonder they are uneasy. - - * * * * * - - _November 14th._ - -The days are getting shorter and shorter, and darkness comes earlier -every day. - -The lamp was lit on my table. Count Emil Dessewffy was telling me -about his journey to Eckhardsau. Now and then he fixed his strong -single-eyeglass into his orbit, then again he toyed with it between -his long, thin fingers, as if it were a shining coin. He was obviously -nervous; and he kept crossing and uncrossing his legs. - -“Prince Nicolas Eszterhazy, Baron Wlassics, Count Emil Széchényi and I -went there. The Cardinal Primate declined at the last moment.” - -“How could you bring yourselves to such a step?” - -“Our intention was to check Károlyi’s machinations, to obtain the -resignation of the King, and to persuade his Majesty to stand aside -temporarily. At first the King wouldn’t listen to reason. He said he had -taken the oath to the Hungarian people; if others wanted to break their -oath towards him, let them arrange that with their conscience; he was -not going to perjure himself. We explained to him that as he had already -transferred, alas, his supreme command to Károlyi, he would safeguard -the interests of poor Hungary and of the dynasty better by standing -aside during the period of transition, than by hanging on obstinately to -his formal right. By this he might frustrate the attempt of those who -are fishing in troubled waters to force the nation to face the _fait -accompli_ of a deposition by violence. The King stamped his foot and -declared several times that whatever might happen he would not stand -aside. We explained the advantages of the step from various points of -view, and at last made him understand that after the mistakes that had -already been made, no other solution was possible. Wlassics edited the -document, but we couldn’t make a final draft because no foolscap paper -could be found in the whole castle. We sent out for some paper. Then -there was no ink, and we had to search for a pen. Time passed, and -meanwhile the King went out shooting....” - -“Went out shooting!” The whole tragedy seemed to be becoming a burlesque. - -“Yes, we were rather shocked,” said Dessewffy. “But later on we found -that there was not a scrap of food in the castle, and the King had to -obtain game so that the Queen and the children might not starve. It is -all very sad. Their clothes too were left behind in Vienna. When they -left Schönbrunn they just threw a few things hurriedly into the car. The -children have no change of clothes. They even had to sleep for several -nights without bedclothes. It’s no good sending messages to Vienna: the -Government Council, which has taken them under its protection, does not -even answer.” - -I thought of the Austrian and Czech nobles, so favoured by the Hapsburgs, -of those, who, insisting on their rights based on the Spanish etiquette -of older times, were mortally offended if at some festivity at the Vienna -Burg they could not stand in the immediate vicinity of the Emperor, or -were put by mistake into a position somewhat inferior to their rank. -Where were they? Where was the ruler’s General Staff? The generals -covered with orders? Where was the bodyguard with its commander, which -“dies but never surrenders?” In the last days of Schönbrunn they all -had withdrawn like the tide from the forsaken shore. “_Nous étions tout -seuls_,” the Queen had said. - -“And then?” I asked Count Dessewffy. - -“After a time some paper was brought, two sheets in all, and Széchényi -sat down to make a clean copy of the document: he had the best -handwriting of us all.” - -Dessewffy showed me the original document. It read: - -“Since the day of my succession to the throne I have always tried to free -my people from the horrors of this war—a war in the causation of which I -had no share whatever. I do not wish that my person should be an obstacle -to the prosperity of the Hungarian people. Consequently I resign all -participation in the direction of affairs of State and submit in advance -to the decision by which Hungary will fix its future form of government. -Dated at Eckhardsau, November 13th 1918. - - CHARLES.” - -“The King still hesitated when the document lay ready for signature on -the table. And as he wavered with the pen in his hand he looked the very -picture of despair. During the last few days the hair on the sides of -his head has turned gray. Suddenly tears came into his eyes, and he fell -sobbing on Count Hunyadi’s shoulder. Well, none of our eyes were quite -dry....” - -[Illustration: QUEEN ZITA. - -_Photo. Kosel, Vienna._ - -(_To face p. 128._)] - -While Dessewffy talked on, I thought of a tale I had heard long, long ago. - -It was evening in a village far away. The autumnal wind was rising, -and the poplars round the house were soughing like organ pipes in a -dark church. In the kitchen the maids were shelling peas. The light -of the fire played over their hands, and the dry shells fell with a -gentle rattle on the brick floor. Katrin, the housekeeper, was telling -a story.... “And the wicked knights went into the King’s tent, armed -with halberds and maces, and said in a terrible voice: ‘Give up your -crown or you shall die the death.’ The beautiful Queen folded her hands -imploringly, and the King took his crown off his head....” That was the -story. The maids cried over the poor king, and in their hearts approved -of him. - -In stories it is the unfortunate who are always right, in reality it is -those on whom fortune smiles. - - * * * * * - - _November 15th._ - -“Long live Michael Károlyi! Elect him President of the Republic!...” -Again a paper disease has infected the houses’ skin. - -In the first year of the war Michael Károlyi had betted that he would -be the president of the Hungarian Republic.... Will he win his bet -to-morrow? But whoever may win, Hungary will be the loser. - -Posters ... new posters appear above the old ones. A new shame covers the -old, and that is all that changes in our lives. Big flags float in the -wind on the boulevards. Flags are hoisted on the electric lamp-posts, -and above the house entrances the old ones flap about. The government has -ordered the beflagging of every house in the country, and its newspapers -are preparing the mood of the morrow. They announce in big type: - - THE RED FLAG HAS BEEN HOISTED IN THE FRENCH TRENCHES. - - REVOLUTION HAS BROKEN OUT IN BELGIUM. - - SWITZERLAND IS ON THE EVE OF A REVOLUTION. - -I heard a little school-girl say to her friend: “Károlyi is a great man. -He makes the fashion, now even the French are imitating us....” - -“Long live ...” shouted the walls and the shop windows, but the people -were silent. Why? Why don’t they tear down the disgraceful posters? Why -are they resigned, why do I alone protest? Or are there more of us, only -we don’t know of each other? I looked carefully at the passing faces. -Their eyes passed indifferently over the posters. Nothing mattered to -them. I walked quickly, as if haunted, a stranger among the soulless -crowd. - -I reached Károlyi’s palace. The one-storeyed house, built in the Empire -style, looked low under its old roof among the high, newly erected -buildings. The row of windows was dark: Károlyi had already moved into -the Prime Minister’s house. The first floor was inhabited only by the -tenant of half the building, Count Armin Mikes, and I had come to see his -wife. Since the events of October I had not been there. - -The little side gate opened as I rang, noiselessly, as if automatically, -and the _concièrge_ looked out of his _loge_ and disappeared. Nothing -stirred. Under the deep arch of the entrance my steps alone resounded; -they echoed strangely, as if invisible hands were dropping things behind -me. - -I stopped for an instant. The soul of the place seemed to be whispering -in the dark. On the right side a corridor was visible through a -glass-panelled door, its walls covered with revolutionary pictures, -and at its end a side staircase led into Károlyi’s apartments. I -shuddered, as one does when one enters a house where a murder has -been committed. The traitors—perjured officers, Gallilest students, -deserters—congregated up there, in the dark rooms, in the nights of -October. Those who sold us and, among themselves, sentenced Tisza to -death whispered and advised up there. - -I went on. From the semi-obscurity of the huge staircase, marble seemed -to tumble down like a frozen waterfall. Beyond, in the garden, the trees -whispered in the cold wind. - -Countess Mikes’ small drawing-room was light and warm. I found a -gathering of Transylvanians there, and beyond the room the notorious -house, the whole town, seemed to have disappeared. My own sufferings -were forgotten in the recital of theirs, and I was no longer alone in my -grief, for all who were present shared it with me. They helped to raise -up hope, because they knew what patriotism was, it is an old legacy -of theirs. The strength and the will power which supported Hungary -throughout her most disastrous periods, when the Turks from the south -and the Germans from the west trod on Hungary’s soil, had their source -in Transylvania. When the fire of resistance was extinguished everywhere -else, it went on burning among its inhabitants. And so after every dark -night our race has gone to Transylvania to kindle anew the flame which -has lighted it back into the dying country. - -Great, suffering Transylvania, what is thy reward for this? - -There they sat, Transylvanian men and women, the descendants of ancient -princes, sufferers with shaded eyes. And as I looked at them there -appeared behind their handsome faces the dreamlike outlines of a -bluish-green landscape. As if seen in the crystal of an antique emerald -ring, distant, dreamy trees appeared: two pointed poplars reached towards -the sky: down below, among the meadows, a willow-bordered brook flowed -softly: wagons rumbled on the winding road: a horseman came slowly, with -a sack across the saddle in front of him. Beyond, the meadow rose to a -velvety hillock, where an ancient spire, a little village, a tiny Székler -village, nestled.... - -A wanderer told me the tale this summer, when I was in Transylvania. -It happened during the war, in 1916. It was when the alarm was raised -for the first time, and one day the cry passed through undefended -Transylvania, “The Roumanians are coming!” In mad haste it spread through -the counties, rushed along the electric wires, rang in the bells: “Save -yourselves!” One village carried the next with it, Transylvania was -fleeing. - -In the village of Gelencze, on the bank of the rippling brook, at the -foot of the hillock, there was silence. It was just like any other day; -the people were working in the fields. Meanwhile the Roumanians crept -cautiously through the undefended Transylvanian passes. One morning -early, soon after the break of day, like some awful sudden death, they -fell upon the people of Gelencze, there in their fields in the midst -of their peaceful work. The people were helpless. Only one old Székler -raised his spade, and fell with a shout among the rifles. They knocked -him down, but he did not die; so they nailed him to a plank and dragged -him into the forest that he might die there, alone. He was heard till -nightfall, struggling and cursing the Roumanians. - -That is how Gelencze was informed of the invasion of Transylvania. The -alarm, the cry of warning, had passed it by, had missed it on the way. -The telegraph wires carried the news, but they passed over its head, -and not a word, not a sound came to bring warning. The Government, the -County, the District, forgot—Hungary forgot the little village. - -A wanderer told me all this, there, just outside the village of Gelencze, -when it was still ours. And as I listened to the sad story it became -bigger and deeper, so deep that the whole of Transylvania had room in -it.... The hillock became the mass of Transylvania’s mountains, the -brook became all Transylvania’s rivers, and the fate of the village was -Transylvania’s fate. - -“Do you remember how I promised you that summer, down there, that I -would write a book of Transylvania, that I would trumpet the rights of -your land, your race? I was to proclaim the wrongs you have suffered and -call to account those who directed Hungary’s fate and for ever forgot -the Hungarian folk in Transylvania. How they delivered you to the tender -mercies of your foes, and armed neither your soul nor your arm for -resistance.... A forgotten village! Do you remember? I said that that -should be the title of my book. You were nothing but a forgotten village -to those who wielded power in Hungary. The sufferings of Transylvania -never caused them a moment’s inconvenience.... And the present government -surpasses them all. As if it had decided on your destruction it now -sends out an old accomplice of the Roumanian _Irredenta_ to speak in the -defence of the victim whom he himself has condemned to death. Oscar Jászi -deals to-day in Arad with Transylvania’s fate.” - -[Illustration: “A TINY SZEKLER VILLAGE.” - -_Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 132._)] - -Hate and disgust were depicted on the faces of the Transylvanian women. -That man of Galician origin, the internationalist who wanted to make -an eastern Switzerland of our country, and who hated everything that -was Hungarian to such an extent that his hatred made him forget the -traditional caution of his race and exclaim in a fury when speaking of -us, “If they don’t obey, let them be exterminated”—he is sent there to -negotiate in the name of the Hungarian race! The very spirit in which he -conducted the negotiations showed his eagerness to revenge himself on -the nation which had given him hospitality: he renounced what was not -his, gave up rights which were ours, and sold Transylvania to Manin’s -Roumanian National Council, which he and Károlyi had themselves created -during the October days. In Arad the Roumanians speak already of national -sovereignty! They claim a Roumanian supremacy and _twenty-six_ Hungarian -counties! They demand that the Hungarian Popular Government shall disarm -the police, disband the Hungarian National Guards, punish all energetic -officers, but ... that it shall provide arms for the Roumanian National -Guards and pay for its men and officers out of the Hungarian taxpayer’s -pocket. Jászi and the revolutionary Government delegates have promised -all this. Meanwhile the Roumanians are dragging out the negotiations, and -their voices become more and more sharp and exacting, for do they not -know that every hour takes the royal Roumanian troops deeper into the -heart of undefended Transylvania? - -And while at the county hall of Arad the traitors are at work, the main -column of Mackensen’s always victorious army is rolling over the bridge -across the Maros. Endless rows of motor columns pass. Behind them comes -an unceasing flow of army service corps wagons, covered ammunition -wagons, lorries, carts and waggonets. Hours and days pass, and they -are still going on, orderly, gray, grave. They do not rob, they do not -pillage, they just go on, from the foot of the Balkan Mountains, from the -frontiers of Transylvania, through Hungary. On foot, on horseback, on -wagons, in close columns, on they go, silently, homewards. - -With them goes hope, and Károlyi watches with an anxious eye: if he -turned back, if he lifted his fist.... And Roumanian heads in sheepskin -caps appear above the crests of the mountains, look after the Germans, -and their feet stamp on Transylvania’s heart. - -My bitterness overflowed and I burst out, “We shall take it back!” - -The Transylvanian women pressed my hand. - -“We shall take it back,” said one of them; “I do not know how, but I feel -it will be so.” - -As I came out of the house I saw my brother Béla come towards me. He -said hurriedly, “I met Emma Ritoók, who also is in despair. She asked -me to tell you that she must speak to you.” That again reminded me that -probably there were many of us, only we did not know of each other.... My -mother, my brothers and sisters, Countess Zichy, the Transylvanian women, -Emma Ritoók, they are faces I can see, voices I can hear, but beyond them -there must be many women scattered in the great silent multitude, left to -themselves, who weep over the past and fear the future.... - -When the electric tram stopped I stepped forward to get off. Somebody -knocked me in the back. My feet missed the steps and I fell, face first, -into the road. I looked back. It was a fat young man, in brand-new field -uniform. His characteristic nose fell like a soft bag over his lips. He -jumped over me without saying a word, nor did he attempt to help me. He -was in a hurry.... I just caught sight of his two fleshy ears under his -cap as he rushed on. - -That is typical of the streets of Budapest to-day; in fact that is the -only reason why I mention it. Unfortunately I sprained my ankle. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - - _November 16th._ - -I am ill after my fall yesterday. An icy wind blows at my window. Loud -voices rise from the street. - -Presently my mother looked out and said, “The saddlers and -leather-workers are assembling; they’ve got red tickets in their hats.” - -Hours passed by. Suddenly I heard a loud buzzing overhead and an -aeroplane flew through the grey air over the streets. Parliament at -this moment is proclaiming the Republic—Károlyi’s National Council is -announcing that all Hungary shall be governed by the Republic of Pest. -Some handbills were brought up to me from the street.... “Victorious -Revolution.... Kingship is dead, long live the independent Hungarian -Republic!” - -I buried my head in my pillow, unable to say a word. There seemed to be a -little mill in my chest and another in my head, and both went round and -round madly, grinding me to powder. Then I became aware that there was a -newspaper on my table—the smell of fresh bad printer’s ink betrayed its -presence. It contained an account of what had happened; everything passed -off in an orderly way and nobody had prevented it. Another opportunity -missed, another day of hope gone! The House of Commons, the Lords, met, -resigned themselves without protest, and the newspaper announces: “This -is a red-letter day in Hungary’s history....” - -Those who had been present told me afterwards that early in the day -the trade unions proceeded from their meeting place to the House of -Parliament. They carried red flags, big placards, and a black coffin -marked “Kingship is dead.” The brass bands of the workmen and of the -postal workers blared, bands of gypsies and choral societies gave voice. -Red insignia everywhere. The nation’s colours had disappeared even from -the caps of the national guards and they too sported red labels with -“Long live the Hungarian Republic.” The only two Hungarian flags, and -small ones at that, were placed on the front of the House of Parliament. -Over the porch of the central entrance a huge red flag floated in the -breeze as if Internationalism from its newly conquered home were putting -its tongue out in derision at the crowd, which it had beguiled so far by -means of cockades of the national colours and with white chrysanthemums. -Opposite, on the buildings of the High Court and the Ministry of -Agriculture, red drapery was displayed all along the first storey. It -looked just as if a gaping wound, inflicted with a giant axe, had cut -them in twain. - -The shops were closed. Trams were not running. Traffic had stopped like -a breath withheld, ready to cough itself again into the streets of the -town. A cordon of sailors lined up in front of the House: rather a -painful surprise for the government, this. Heltai had come back from -Pressburg with his men in a special train: surely the Republic was not -going to be proclaimed without him! So the defence of Upper Hungary is -now suspended for the time being while Heltai adorns himself with the -national colours: he entered Pressburg under the red flag. There are -rumours that his sailors are connected with certain robberies. In Pest it -is murmured that he knows something about Tisza’s murder. - -Five aeroplanes circled over the square, the crowd kept increasing, and -then a giant advertisement on a long stretched canvas was brought out on -poles from a side street. The wind blew it up like a sail and made fun -of its inscription: “This morning in Parliament Square we shall proclaim -Count Michael Károlyi President of the Republic!” - -It was ten o’clock. The Speaker’s bell rang. And the Hungarian House of -Commons, to its eternal disgrace, without a word of protest, dissolved -itself in impotence. In the other wing of the building the Lords had met -at the same time. Only thirty-two were present. They too had forgotten -the old classical cry: “_Moriamur pro rege nostro!_” Only Baron Julius -Wlassics, the president, spoke. He did not pronounce the dissolution of -the Lords. He said as little as possible, and ended his address with -the words: “Our constitution decrees that the dissolution of the House -of Commons as part of our two-chamber legislature will naturally render -the further constitutional functions of the House of Lords impossible, -consequently I hereby suspend the sitting of the House of Lords.” - -This was the last act of an institution which was born over a thousand -years ago at Pusztaszer, had become the dignified Diet of Buda, the -heroic National Assembly of Pressburg, Francis Deák’s parliament. And -under the cupola rose the voice of that which was begotten by yesterday’s -treason, murder and destruction, and will undoubtedly engender anarchy. - -“Honoured National Assembly....” John Hock, the notorious priest, the -President of the so-called National Assembly, raised his voice. Nobody -can tell for whom he spoke. National Assemblies are elected bodies, and -those who were there had been elected by nobody. - -In the newspapers the speech was given in long columns of thick type. -My eyes passed over them, I saw only the speaker in his black cassock, -hiding behind the black columns, his diabolical face drawn between his -shoulders. A guilty priest, a guilty Hungarian, who has betrayed both -his God and his country. Once in his youth he was the adulated preacher -of the crowd. Then his downfall began. The gifted but morally weak man -with a corrupt soul got into debt and became the political tool of his -creditors.... That brought him into Károlyi’s camp. - -His accomplices, who like to compare their little rebellion made in the -Hotel Astoria romantically to the great French Revolution, call Károlyi -their Mirabeau and have dubbed John Hock the Abbe Siéyès. Do they call -their ladies, Countess Károlyi, Baroness Hatvany, Mrs. Jászi, Laura -Polányi, Rosa Schwimmer, conforming to this precedent, _sansculottes_ and -_tricoteuses_?... There they are, all of them, in the big hall under the -cupola, pantingly enjoying the hour of their triumph. And John Hock goes -on with his speech. I see him before me, as I have seen him so often in -the street and occasionally in the little office of the manager of the -Urania scientific theatre, whither he took the manuscript of his play -_Christ_ and whither he went to talk politics, speaking in mysterious, -dark prophecies. His head always reminded me of the characteristic old -illustrations of Mephistopheles in _Faust_. The little black velvet cap -with the peacock’s feather would suit him to perfection. On his unkempt, -domed skull the hair is short and looks more like bristles than hair. -In his crafty, wicked eyes there is something of the look of those -animals that live underground. His ill-shaved face is blue and is always -unwashed. His cassock is covered from neck to foot with grease-spots; now -and then he fumbles with his indescribably dirty hands in the depths of -his pockets. He has to stoop down to reach their bottom. Then he produces -a dented snuff-box, and cocking his little finger with grotesque grace, -stretches his thumb and index finger into the box. His filthy fingers -lift the snuff to his nostrils, brown with continuous snuffing. Then he -leans his head back and shuts his eyes, in expectant ecstasy. - -So he stood on the platform in the hall, filled with applause, after -having proclaimed the republic and having proposed that: “the holidays -of royal paraphernalia should be abolished and that the glorious days -of the revolution and the republic, the 31st of October and the 16th of -November, should for all times be declared National holidays.” Then he -read out a declaration, imposed on Károlyi by Jászi, Kúnfi, Kéri and -Landler, “in the name of the Hungarian nation and by the will of the -people ...” by which it was decided that Hungary was a Popular Republic, -independent and separate from any other country, the supreme power being -provisionally in the hands of the popular government, headed by Michael -Károlyi and supported by the National Council. It declared that the -popular government must urgently legislate and adopt general, secret, -equal, direct suffrage, including women in the electorate, for elections -for the National Assembly, Communal and Legal councils; decree the -freedom of the press, trial by jury, freedom of assembly, and take the -necessary steps for the agricultural population to obtain possession of -the land. - -[Illustration: FATHER JOHN HOCK, PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL COUNCIL, -OPENING THE REVOLUTIONARY NATIONAL ASSEMBLY AFTER THE DISSOLUTION OF THE -HOUSE OF COMMONS AND THE LORDS. - -(_To face p. 138._)] - -The public in the hall shouted its unanimous assent after every point. - -Then Károlyi rose to speak, to speak with that frightful voice which is -the natural consequence of his infirmity. He proclaimed the deposition -of the Hapsburgs, declaimed Wilson’s sacred principles, the League of -Nations, the right of peoples to decide their own fate, of eternal peace, -and wound up in a pathetic stutter: “only through sufferings, only -through the sea of blood caused by the war, could the peoples of Europe -and the people of Hungary understand that there was only one possible -policy: the policy of pacificism.... The policy of pacificism was no more -a restricted local policy, but the policy of the world.... The Hungarian -nation, the Hungarian state and the Hungarian race must cling to this -world-policy, because only such nations will prosper, only such nations -will progress, as can adapt themselves to, and adopt, the world-policy -which is expressed in the single word _Pacificism_.” - -The hour was tragical and I had suffered much, but I could not help -laughing. Never did pitiable blabber say anything more stupid than -this, nor anything more wicked, for while he is proclaiming pacificism, -militarism armed to the teeth is invading Hungary from all sides. Is it -mere stupidity or the last service to a horrible treason? Whatever it be, -after this it is useless to analyse Károlyi’s mentality. - -The Mirabeau of the Astoria was followed by the spokesman of the Social -Democratic Party: Sigmund Kunfi-Kunstätter, the Minister for Public -Welfare. He is said to be one of Lenin’s emissaries. His face is like -a vulture’s, his eyes are cunning and inquisitive. After John Hock’s -rhetoric and Károlyi’s disgraceful stutter, this cashiered Jewish -schoolmaster, who has changed his religion three times for mercenary -reasons but has remained faithful to his race, spoke with fiendish -ingenuity. He mixed truths with utopias, promised and threatened, and in -the certitude of his victory tore asunder the veil that hid the future. - -“By proclaiming this day a free, popular republic,” said Kunfi, “we -have not only achieved great political progress, but we have started on -a road of which the past revolution and this day are not the end but -only important milestones.... Political freedom, the republic, the most -radical political democracy, all these are only means which shall enable -the great struggle, the fight between poverty and wealth, to start easier -and under better auspices....” - -This is the battle cry of class-war, and till the war comes Kunfi offers -as a narcotic social reforms: the levelling of poverty and wealth, land -for the soldiers back from the front. And he promises that he will -force the entailed estates, big capital and great industry, to give up -everything that “justice” and the will of the people claim, and that in -such a way that it will not interfere with the continuity of economic -life. - -This programme, which is not an end but only a landmark, expresses as yet -Kautsky’s ideas. But then, suddenly, it is no longer Kautsky; it is Lenin -and Liebknecht who speak through this representative of their creed. - -“Political democracy is only a tool for us,” said Kunfi; “this political -freedom is valuable to us only because we believe and hope that by its -means we shall be able to carry through the great social transformation -just as bloodlessly, and with as few victims, as we have managed to -achieve the Hungarian Revolution.” - -“Long live the social revolution,” shouted the gallery. - -In his next words Kunfi answered the shout and in the exhilaration of -this triumph gave himself away: - -“Our revolutionary work is not over yet! After reforming our institutions -we shall have to alter mankind!” - -So he confessed that it was not the people who wanted his institutions, -but that his institutions wanted the people. And as he went on he -admitted that the men of the future were not to be Hungarians. “Every -place in this country must be filled by individuals who are inspired -by the spirit of the new revolution, of this new Hungary, of this new -world.” ... His words died away in a last sentence which, if it is -understood by the nation, ought to rouse it to desperate resistance, -for it is the proclamation of world-Bolshevism: “Every slave-nation -stands this day with reddening cheeks on the stage of the world, and one -after the other the peoples will rise with red flags and will sing in a -powerful symphony the hymn of the world’s freedom....” - -[Illustration: SIGISMUND KUNFI _alias_ KUNSTÄTTER, LENIN’S EMISSARY. -PEOPLES COMMISSARY FOR EDUCATION. - -(_To face p. 140._)] - -It is to our everlasting shame that no single Hungarian rose to choke -these words. In the Hall of Hungary’s parliament Lenin’s agent could -unfurl at his ease the flag of Bolshevism, could blow the clarion of -social revolution and announce the advent of a world-revolution, while -outside, in Parliament Square, Lovászy and Bokányi, accompanied by -Jászi, informed the people that the National Council had proclaimed the -republic. On the staircase, Michael Károlyi made another oration. Down -in the square, Landler, Welter, Preusz and other Jews glorified the -republic—there was not a single Hungarian among them. That was the secret -of the whole revolution. Above: the mask, Michael Károlyi; below: the -foreign race which has proclaimed its mastery. - -And bands of Hungarian workmen and gypsies played the National Anthem and -the Marseillaise, and Gallileists sang the Internationale. Humiliated, -with bitter anger, I read in the newspapers of hundreds of thousands of -people, furious cheers, and the frenzied happiness of the multitude. Thus -is the news spread over the country, while those who were present say -that the people were shivering in the icy north wind that blew across the -square, that they took everything with indifference, and only cheered -when ordered to do so by their leaders. - -Only when the National Anthem was played and a few Gallileists refused to -uncover did the crowd knock their hats off. That was all that was done -for the sake of Hungary’s honour. Nobody proclaimed Michael Károlyi the -president of the republic. The Socialists would not have it. Is he of no -more use? Do they not need him any more? As a compensation, Kunfi ordered -the National Guards to carry him shoulder high. So Károlyi was carried -between the ranks of the commandeered trade unions across the square. -The white canvasses with the inscription: “Let us proclaim Károlyi -President of the Republic,” were rolled up in silence. - -The workmen went home and said among themselves that now everything would -be all right. There will be good times, and things will be cheap. The -rabble, however, blackguarded the king and cursed the “gentle-folk.” -At the head of one of their groups a shabby drunken woman walked with -unsteady steps. Shaking her unkempt head she put her arms round the -neck of a young fellow and dragged him along. After a time she let her -companion go, chose another, and hugged and dragged him along while she -danced some immodest steps. - -Some peasant proprietors who had come there accidentally, walked in -silence towards the city, their stout boots striking the cobbles firmly. -In all this throng they alone represented the people of great Hungary. - -A friend of mine followed them, to see what they would do. At last one -of them, an old peasant, who seemed to have thought it over, stopped and -turned to the others, measuring his words: - -“This republic is a fine thing; but now I should like to know who is -going to be King?” - - * * * * * - - _November 17th._ - -How long and terrible the night can be! Clocks strike, one after the -other; one gently, another hesitatingly, and the fine old alabaster clock -is hoarse, and its chest rattles between every stroke. Down in the street -a carriage races past at a gallop, then a single shot rings out in the -silence. The shot must have been fired in the street behind our house.... -Then everything relapses into silence for hours. The floor creaks, as if -somebody is walking barefooted towards my bed, though nothing moves. How -often did the clock strike? I waited impatiently for the sound, and yet -forgot to count the strokes. I lit the candle. Not even half the night is -over, and it has lasted such an age. Then that hopeless, helpless despair -came over me again. I don’t want to think. It does no good. Yet in spite -of myself something forces itself into my mind, leans over me, like a -ghost. It is _yesterday_. It comes stealthily over the threshold, towards -me. I shut my eyes in vain: I can see it though it is dark. I see the day -with all its shame and cowardice. I can see those who have wrought our -ruin triumph and applaud in the exhilaration of their success: “Long live -the Republic!” My sprained ankle smarts suddenly. The man who knocked me -off the tram is conjured up: his head sails towards me through the air, -as though borne by huge protruding ears. His nose projects enormously, -and his mouth opens wide and shouts “Long live the Republic!” The big -hall under the cupola of the House of Parliament was full of mouths like -this, with soft, flabby lips, and the curly thick lips of women. It was -these who proclaimed the republic for Hungary. And we submitted, suffered -it, and held our peace. - -I try to calm myself, to restrain myself. The clocks strike again. Then -silence once more, spreading like a thread which a spider draws out. -The silence becomes longer, longer.... I can stand it no more—if only -something would make a noise! I sit up, shivering, and strike the pillow -with my fist. That does not mend matters. A subdued moan resounds through -the room, a pitiable, miserable little sound which comes from my heart.... - -Do others suffer as much as I do? I have spoken to nobody, have seen -nobody. I don’t know what they think. I have no one with whom to share -my pain. Maybe that is the reason why it weighs so heavily upon me. I -try to console myself. Things cannot go on like this. Like everything -else it will pass. The revolution was made because the Jews were afraid -of pogroms by the returning soldiers. The republic was made because the -revolution was afraid of the counter-revolution. It is an accumulation -of narcotics. But no narcotic lasts for ever. The only question is, what -part of the victim is to be amputated while it lasts? - -At last a square of light appeared at one side of the room. At first it -was gray, then it became blue, and finally it turned into daylight. So -there was a new day again; it has come with empty hands and who knows -what it will take with it? - -In the afternoon Emma Ritoók opened my door. “What happened to you?” she -asked as she came to my bedside. - -“A hero of the revolution knocked me off the tram.” - -“How do you know that he was a hero of the revolution?” - -“By his ears.... And then, he wore a brand-new uniform.” - -My friend was infinitely sad this day. Since we had last met, her -credulous Hungarian nature had gone through an awful time. Despair and -rebellion sounded in all her words. Years ago, when she attended for a -term the lectures at Berlin University, she became acquainted with two -Jews from Hungary. They met in the philosophy class. They were friends -of her youth, and now these very people have made the rebellion of the -Astoria Hotel against her country. She complained: - -“They said that we were even incapable of arranging that by ourselves, -that it needed Jews to obtain Hungary’s independence for the Hungarians. -I answered that we did not do it because it was unnecessary, that -history would have brought us independence of her own accord. But they -declared that humanity was sick and would not recover till a world -revolution eliminated from this globe the last machine, the last book, -the last sculpture, and the last violin too. This revolution must sweep -away everything, so that nothing remains but man and the soil, because -humanity is in need of a new soul, to begin everything from the very -beginning.” - -“Tell them in my name that they are speaking for a race which has grown -old, which suffers from senile decay and would like to be re-born. We -are young, we have not yet exhausted our vitality, and innumerable -possibilities are in store for us. Only a degenerate race can seek -rejuvenation through destruction. Besides, if they want to re-create by -these means a world torn from its past, it will not be enough to destroy -the last book, the last statue and the last violin; they must destroy as -well the last man who remembers.” - -“I shan’t be able to tell them,” she answered, “because I shan’t see them -again. Now it is not a question of philosophy, it is a question of my -country. And that parts us for ever.” - -“Is that the reason why you sent me a message that you had a spiritual -need to meet me?” - -“We must do something. The men do nothing. We ought to organise the -women. Unconsciously they are waiting for it. In the Club of Hungarian -Ladies there are many who are of our way of thinking.” - -“There too?...” - -The Club of Hungarian Ladies was founded a few years ago by a few -aristocratic ladies inspired by Countess Michael Károlyi. For that reason -I never joined it. Under the publicly proclaimed object of intellectual -intercourse I suspected the ultimate political purpose. I had been right. -In case of the admittance of women to the franchise, this club was -required to furnish Michael Károlyi with a ready camp among intellectual -women. The events of the last two weeks wrecked this plan, because the -truth about Károlyi has begun to leak out. At one of their meetings the -nationalist ladies, in opposition to the socialist, feminist and radical -Jewish adherents of Countess Károlyi, had declared by a great majority -for the territorial integrity of Hungary and had carried Emma Ritoók’s -resolution to address a protest to the women of the civilised world. -Countess Károlyi, who was present, could not stand aside, so she promised -that the government would bear the expenses of printing it and would see -that the greatest possible publicity should be given to it abroad—on the -sole condition that her husband should be allowed to have cognisance of -the document. The members accepted the proposal, which seemed to forbode -no danger to the protest, as it was to fight for the nation’s right and -it would have been folly to imagine that the government was opposed to -that. They cheered Countess Károlyi and decided unanimously that although -I did not belong to the club I should be asked to write the preface to -the memorandum. - -I accepted the commission. The interest of my country was at stake and I -would have accepted the invitation whatever the source whence it came. -Emma Ritoók brought the document back with her.... Károlyi had looked -through it and had struck out everything that might have been of any use -to our cause. So that was the reason for Countess Károlyi’s offer.... -A sieve that shall stop even the smallest national movement. We are -cornered, and when we would cry for help the government puts its hand -over our mouths. Officialdom holds down our hands when we would help -ourselves. - -“Put this carefully away,” I said to my friend, looking at the mangled -document. “One day this may be another proof of his treason.” - -Various handwritings alternated on the margin, besides the considerable -cuts that had been made in the text. - -“Jászi has read it, and Biró.... This is Károlyi’s handwriting; he even -signed his name to it.” - -This was the first time I had seen his handwriting. Loosely formed -characters, words run together, others only half finished, the lines -slanting towards the corner of the page, capital letters in the middle -of sentences and innumerable mistakes in spelling. It looked just like -him.... - -“What shall we do now?” asked my friend. “We have worked in vain. The -government will publish none but the revised document and it will stop -any other from being sent abroad.” - -“I shall find some way,” I answered; “but I will never permit my -patriotism to be censored by Michael Károlyi.” - -“Refuse it,” said my mother; “it is better it should not appear at all -than appear in this form.” - -In the evening I wrote a letter to Count Emil Dessewffy, to whom I had -mentioned the memorandum, asking him to use his social connections, or -the services of the ever-increasing Territorial Defence League, to get -it abroad in its original form. I wrote in pencil, at some length, and -poured all my bitterness into the letter. I criticised men and events -without mercy. I called Károlyi and his friends traitors and the leaders -of the Social Democrats the advance guard of Bolshevist world-rule. - -I felt relieved when I had sent the letter. Then, I don’t know why, I -began to feel rather nervous about it. That letter might land me in -prison. Nonsense. How could it get into wrong hands? - - * * * * * - - _November 18th._ - -To-night the ground shook in this branded town. Mackensen’s motor -columns were passing through Budapest. They went, without stopping, -dark, thundering, betrayed, disappointed, out into the wintry night.... -My sister-in-law told me she had seen them. Big waterproofs covered the -clattering motors and only their lamps betrayed that there was life in -them. Not a man was visible. Like the phantoms of war they came from -distant battle-fields. - -They went on for hours and only once was their progress stopped. One -lorry pulled up for an instant, a man climbed out from under the -waterproof, took a little box, waved his hand, and disappeared in the -dark. He must have been a Hungarian soldier whom they had brought with -them, goodness only knows whence. And the waving of the solitary hand was -the only greeting and good-bye that our German comrades in arms received -from Hungary’s capital. The gray ghostly mass restarted and the others -followed.... - -We followed them in our minds, as the eyes of a shipwrecked crew on a -sinking raft follow the ship which disappears over the horizon without -bringing help. - -It has happened ... they are gone, and in their track follow those whom -now nobody can stop.... And yet, the 1st Home-defence regiment has -arrived with its full equipment, and the regiments of Debreczen and -Pécs are coming too. Another has come from Albania and more come from -Ukraine, from France and from Italy. Through Innsbruck alone more than -half a million Hungarian troops have rushed homeward. They are disarmed, -disbanded—are no more. Meanwhile through the pass of Ojtoz a Roumanian -force consisting of sixteen frontier guards has invaded Hungarian -territory. They looked round, gave the sign, and were followed by a -battalion. They arm and enlist the Transylvanian Roumanians, and the land -is lost to us. - -Last week a small detachment, a few Serbian troopers, rode into Mohács. - -Mohács.... Once upon a time the Hungarian nation, with its king and its -bishops, bled to death there, resisting the terrific onslaught of the -Turks. The brook Csepel ran red with Hungarian blood, and the land was -covered with Hungarian dead as far as the eye could see. Now a handful -of Serbian cavalry ride over the mournful, grandiose graves and tread -the deathbed of the King. The field is peacefully green, the water is -clean, and there are no corpses on the grass. And yet, to-day Mohács is -a greater cemetery of Hungary than it was on the day of the great death, -for to-day there are none left ready to die for her. - -What a nightmare it all is! Down there the commander of the Serbian -troops says: “I have been for seven years with my soldiers, and when we -marched through Serbia we passed before our own houses, and not a single -man entered his own home, but on they went, according to orders.... The -Serbian army has been at war since 1912, and yet it passed in front of -its home, its little fields, its women, its children, went on and never -stopped.” They come, they come for conquest, and our men do not defend -what is their own. How they must hate us, our land and our race which has -sunk so low! How we have been poisoned by those who ought to lead us! -With narcotic lies they have inoculated us and planted the plague in our -souls. - -If only one could get away from these maddening thoughts, could tear them -out of one’s brain and get a moment’s rest. But it cannot be done. They -cling to us obstinately. These winter days in bed are terrible, and awful -are the long, sleepless nights. Sometimes I think that people don’t go -mad here because they are already all lunatics. - - * * * * * - - _November 19th._ - -Snow is falling. The roofs are white and shine against the background -of the gray sky. Scanty, economical fires burn in our grates: the -Serbians have occupied the coal-fields of Pécs, the Roumanians those of -Petrozsény, so Hungary has no longer any coal, and the Czechs stop the -supplies from Germany. In the gas-stove the flame is small and gives no -heat. The new order diminishes the supply of electricity, and the globes -have to be taken out of the chandelier. Only one is allowed in the room, -and it sends its light sideways into a corner. I hobbled over to my -mother. The partial light left dark recesses in the corners, and made the -place unhomely, sad. - -The table in the dining-room seemed to have changed too. In the silver -vases there are still some evergreen twigs from our summer home, but -flowers there are no longer. Everything is getting so expensive. Our fare -diminishes every day too, but we pretend not to notice it. Every day sees -the disappearance of something we were accustomed to. Things we used -to take as granted have become luxuries. Already during the long years -of war things were not always what they seemed: coffee was not coffee, -nor were the tea, the sugar, or even the bread above suspicion. We got -accustomed to substitutes, but now even these have disappeared. In the -shops the shelves are empty, and the new stocks fail to appear. Those -who can, buy and hoard. Germany and Austria have stopped sending us the -products of their industries. We tighten our belts and get thinner and -poorer every day. - -Across the street one window is still lit up, though it is getting late. -As I look up I can see a man making a selection of his clothes. He lifts -up a coat, holds it under the lamp, puts it aside, then takes it up -again; now he inspects a waist-coat, some linen. A woman comes in and -they talk for a few moments. Then they throw an overcoat on the table and -hide the rest in the bed, under the mattresses. They make a selection of -boots too. The woman puts one pair with the overcoat, and they hide the -others in the cupboard, behind some books. - -Choosing and hiding of this kind goes on to-day in every house in the -country. - -The popular Government has issued a decree, striving to satisfy the -demands of the disarmed troops by requisition. Its confidential agents -are to visit the people in their homes and requisition clothes, linen and -boots, without any compensation. Those who hide anything will have the -whole of their supply with the exception of a single suit, confiscated -and will be punished with a fine of 2,000 crowns or six months’ -imprisonment. - -This is a curious order, for it affects principally those who have -suffered most from the high prices of the war and the exactions of the -profiteers, namely the middle-classes, whose poor, shabby, outworn -clothes are the only remaining outward sign of their higher cultural -position, and whose only means of clothing their children consists in -utilizing every possible rag. Moreover there is a new element embodied in -this order, for by it the authorities have taken the first step towards -disposing of private property without due compensation. They lay claim to -search homes, and thus the thin end of the wedge has been driven into the -sacred rights of privacy and private property. - -Suddenly shots were fired somewhere near the hospital. On the other side -of the road, in the lighted room, the woman raised her head, and seeing -that she had forgotten to lower the blinds, she hastened to do so, in -order to hide the theft that she and her husband were committing in their -own home, for themselves, on their own poor little hoard of worn-out -clothes. - -Even as I looked I was astonished at my own feelings. In my heart I -approved of those who tried to evade the order: and yet, my ideas of -honesty had not changed—it was the honesty of the law which had altered. -Only three weeks ago it protected us, now it is a means of attack, and -we, persecuted humanity, are only acting in our own defence when we -conspire for its defeat. - -The sound of footsteps in the street roused me, for it is a rare thing -after the doors of the houses are shut. The footsteps went by rapidly, -as if in a flurry. I listened for a time, wondering whether some devilry -were afoot—but no, nowadays it is only those who walk slowly, steadily, -that mean mischief. - - * * * * * - - _November 20th._ - -Our road leads through a mist and nobody can see the end of it. Some -day, when we look back upon the past, many things may appear simple and -clear which now, while we are living through them, seem mysterious and -incomprehensible. Events come fast, crowding one on the other without -rhyme or reason. Common sense is of no use, for our fate is woven by -maniacs. We have occasional bright moments, little flickers which the -storm extinguishes. If we see clearly for an instant, darkness falls -before we can find our way, and in its gloom, fate deals us such blows -that we become giddy and lose our bearings. Nothing helps. Everything is -new and strange; in a present like this the past is no guide. One cannot -acquire the habit of dying!—and Hungary is struggling in agony in the -hands of her murderers. - -To-day the lamp flared up in an unexpected way, for I heard news which -staggered me, stopped the beating of my heart and left me speechless. -I heard the familiar step of my brother Géza passing through the -drawing-room to my mother’s room, and rushed after him with a feverish -desire to hear and to know. Perhaps he might be the bearer of hopeful -news, as he used to be during the war; then, whenever he came to see -mother, there had been a bright spot in our gloom. But now he sat in a -state of collapse in the tall green armchair, and fury distorted his face. - -“All these scoundrels are traitors. Lieut.-Colonel Julier has told me -how damnably they have betrayed the country. They are leading it to -destruction.” He banged the table with his clenched fist. “Do you know -that the armistice of Belgrade was superfluous? The Common High Command -had arranged with General Diaz, who was the delegate of the Allies, -for an armistice for us too as from the 4th of November, leaving the -frontiers of Hungary untouched and fixing the pre-war frontiers as the -line of demarcation. There was to be no enemy occupation. And on the 6th -of November Michael Károlyi, in Belgrade, opened the flood-gates on us.” - -There was a weary silence in the room for a while. It was so terrible, -so monstrous, that, though my opinion of Károlyi and his gang was low -enough, I could scarcely believe it. - -“Perhaps they—perhaps Károlyi didn’t know the conditions of Diaz’s -armistice?” - -“They did; it was in Károlyi’s pocket before he went to Belgrade,” my -brother said. “They did it for the sake of power, for the doubtful -honour that the conclusion of peace should be in their names. Franchet -d’Espèray could not understand why they came. Then he gave them their -medicine: ‘If you want it, have it!’ says he.” - -Everything seemed to be collapsing round us, even that which had till now -remained standing, and it was as though the weight of it fell on us and -buried us under its ruin. It seemed incomprehensible that the lamp still -stood there, where it had been before, and the chairs, the couch, the -cupboards.... Then I saw my mother’s hands as they clasped one another -spasmodically in her lap. I heard her voice, which sounded as if it came -struggling up among the ruins, with infinite pain: - -“If the curse of an old woman carries any weight, I curse them!” - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - _November 21st._ - -To-day the newspapers are full of the complaints of Károlyi’s government. -The government has sent protesting telegrams to the Allies, the Czechs, -the Roumanians. It appeals to the armistice concluded with the Allied -armies, to the Wilsonian principles, to world-saving pacifism. It -clamours for justice, help, food, and coal. And Károlyi threatens that -“if the Allies do not want to see the formation of ‘green’ forces—he does -not mention the ‘red’ because he has already formed those—”if the Allies -do not wish that this part of Europe should be given up to plunder, -incendiarism and robbery, it is the eleventh hour....” - -But the Allies are well aware that Károlyi’s rule has already achieved -all this, and they don’t trouble to answer. On the other hand Kramarz, -with whom Károlyi had conspired against the interests of his country -during the war answers in the name of the Czechs, haughtily, derisively: -“The Allies have decided that the territories inhabited by the Slovaks -shall form part of the Czecho-Slovak Republic, and not of the Hungarian -state. Consequently Hungary cannot conclude an armistice for the Slovak -parts, as these have already been incorporated into Czecho-Slovakia.” -That is his answer, and the King of Roumania’s answer is an appeal to his -army: “Soldiers. The long expected hour has come. The Allies have crossed -the Danube and it is time that we should rise to arms.... Our brethren -in Bukovina and Transylvania call us to the last battle. Victory is -ours. Forward! God is with us.” - -The armistice of Belgrade makes all our enemies see red. Károlyi’s -government has opened the door to the Serbians, and the rest of them are -breaking it in for themselves; they come aflame with hatred, and come -incessantly. - -I feel like death, and giddy with rage, when I read Károlyi’s speeches. -“Confidence is due to the government,” says he—and he defends the -Socialists: “Let nobody presume to say that they are unpatriotic, that -the fate of their country is not dear to their hearts ...” and the -radicals: “In Arad, Minister Jászi has fought to the last gasp for the -integrity of Hungarian territory....” In short, he defends everybody who -does not defend the country. - -Among the parties which support the government differences become more -manifest every day. They have practically formed two distinct sections, -on one side the guilty, misguided Hungarians, on the other, the -Socialists and Radicals, the foreign race. The latter are the stronger -because they are better organised, and know what they want. Michael -Károlyi is entirely under their influence, caught in the meshes of a net -that is being drawn rapidly towards the extremist side. - -Unity in politics only exists as long as it is a question of attaining -power. The power, once attained, itself serves to divide the -victors—swollen with pride and insolence. That is the moment to smash -them. - -“It would be premature,” Count Dessewffy told me, when I met him to-day -in the street. I had only a short talk with him, for he was due at a -meeting. They are forming an agrarian party, and hope to organise the -peasant proprietors of the country. - -“I have just remembered,” he added with a laugh; “only think of it. -Károlyi means to send you on a political errand to Italy....” - -“Does he always choose with such discernment?” I replied, and I could -not help laughing myself. “Let him get me a passport and I will use my -Italian connections—on two conditions.” - -“What are they?” - -“Firstly, that I travel at my own expense, so that I needn’t accept a -penny from them; secondly, that I do not go in the interest of their -republic and their government, but exclusively in the interest of my -country. But that, I fear, won’t suit them.” - -As I walked on I reflected on what I had heard. Dessewffy had information -of the country’s mood, and he had said: - -“The peasantry and the provincial towns do not take to the idea of this -disguised communist republic, suggested by Pest. There are considerable -parts of the country which are restrained with difficulty from openly -espousing the cause of monarchy.” - -“Don’t hold them down, let them raise their voice and sweep the board -of this scum!” I had cried. But Dessewffy only repeated: “It would be -premature. Let this crowd die off first.” - -I ran into a ladder standing across the footpath; a man was sitting on -top of it, scraping the wall diligently. Dirt has effaced the last traces -of such inscriptions as “By appointment to the Imperial and Royal Court,” -which October 31st had torn down in its fury. Now new work is being done -on the shop-signs, and those that bear names like Hapsburg, Berlin, -Hohenzollern, Hindenburg, and Vienna, are taken down. The cafés are in -a tearing hurry to alter the names they bore before the war, and the -Judaized town sycophantically re-christens itself, plastering its places -of amusement with labels such as: Paris Salon, French Café, English Park -and American Bar. - -I feel the utmost contempt for them, and I’m sure that the foreign -invaders, whom fate will bring here, will feel the same towards them. A -people which denies, or tolerates that others should deny in its name, -its past, tramples on its own honour. For days the government has been -announcing the arrival of French troops. The town is being prepared for -their reception, and we have to sit down quietly under this hideous farce -and suffer it. - -One of Károlyi’s papers writes to-day: “The first French soldiers will -probably arrive to-morrow in Budapest, and the youngest republic greets -with love the champions of Liberty, Fraternity and Equality. Instead -of stiff, haughty German swashbucklers, charming, good-humoured French -officers; instead of the clumsy German soldiers with their heavy boots, -our streets will be filled with the petted _poilus_.... Beside the -Hungarian inscriptions we ought to put up French inscriptions everywhere -on our public institutions ... tradespeople should put on their shops: -‘_Ici on parle français._’ German translations on the bills of fare -should be omitted....” - -A government which prints such shame in its newspapers, a press which can -find a single compositor to set it, a public which will stand it, must -surely have reached the lowest depths of humiliation. - -Flags of the national colours float festively overhead. And the -government calls in the French troops of occupation, and offers their -commander the most beautiful spot in the country, the royal castle, as a -residence, because, it says: “They are not enemies, but gladly welcomed -guests....” - -Every drop of blood in me is boiling with shame and helpless rage, and -my mind goes back to a long past page of memory—1871. An early morning -in Paris. In close formation, headed by its flags, the victorious German -army enters Paris. Along its route the windows are closed, flags of -mourning float from the houses, and the still-burning street-lamps are -shrouded in crepe; the people, conscious of its dignity even in the -moment of its humiliation, observes a gloomy silence in the streets. -No order has been given, no instructions have been issued, yet, men, -women and children, all turn their heads aside, and the eyes of the -victors fail to meet the tear-dimmed eyes, burning with hate, of the -vanquished.... - - * * * * * - - _November 22nd._ - -The sky has descended to the very roofs. Snow falls continually and -deepens in the streets. But the Office of Public Health appeals in -vain for workmen at twenty crowns a day to remove the snow from the -streets. They roar with laughter as they read it, and go on to draw their -unemployment dole, while still the snow falls and falls, obstructing the -doors of houses, lying knee-deep in the quiet side-streets. - -Near the principal railway station it is like wading in a dusty, white, -ploughed field, and even in the covered interior of the station one walks -on soft ground, for there dirt and decaying garbage accumulate in heaps. -Nobody does any cleaning nowadays. There is the unemployment dole! - -To-day even the refreshment room is invaded by an insufferable stench, -and there are vermin creeping on the walls. The bread given to the -wounded is uneatable, and the tea is just slop-water. There is no fire -in the stove, and the cold is biting; even during the war the place was -never so miserable as it is now. There are fewer wounded, and the place -is filled with able-bodied soldiers passing through the town. They come -from distant battle-fields, ragged and dirty, and often they only get -here to learn that there is no home for them to go to. Nowhere! Serbians, -Roumanians and Czechs have occupied the ancient homes of Hungarian -peasants. - -A Transylvanian Hussar sat on a bench and cursed loudly, sobbing now and -then like a child. An old peasant from the Banat, a wounded old soldier, -knelt there with tears pouring from his eyes. He was a descendant of -those Saxons who had settled in Hungary six hundred years ago, and he -exclaimed in his archaic German: “The Serbians have come to us! Oh, our -poor country, poor country!” and the sergeant of the medical corps in his -red-cockaded cap swore loudly at him. - -Then a woman came through the door, dragging two little children by the -hand. She asked for bread, they had been three days without food. “I -shall go to Károlyi,” she cried, “he shall see that justice is done! My -husband is an official in the Banat. The Serbians have arrested him. They -beat him till he fainted and then locked him up. There are many like -that. Those who do not swear allegiance to them are cudgelled and locked -up. All the Hungarian administration has disappeared.... The police have -been disarmed too. Then they requisition and don’t pay. There are no -newspapers—they are confiscated. They call us ‘dogs of Hungarians’ and -say that our land is now in Serbia. There is no post—all the letters -addressed to Hungarians are opened, and if they contain money it is -taken.” - -A soldier came close up and listened with open mouth. - -“Do you come from the Banat?” the woman asked. “Then don’t you go home! -The Serbians are enlisting our men and taking them to forced labour. -Nobody comes back from that.” - -The man looked at her for a while vacantly, then muttered helplessly: -“But surely, now there is peace....” - -Night began to fall. The big chandelier hung unlighted from the ceiling -of the dirty hall, save for an isolated side-branch here and there, -which scattered an ugly patchy glare in the twilight. On a bench a blind -soldier lay on his back; he smiled continually in a queer way, as if the -smile were frozen on his face, and his cap was tilted over his sightless -eyes. - -“You hail from the Great Plain?” I asked him. - -“I come from Szalonta ...” he grumbled sleepily. - -And I imagined the poor young fellow, in the stifling summer heat of the -Plain, stretched at the foot of a stack for his mid-day rest, shading his -eyes from the glaring rays of the sun with his little round hat. But now -no sunshine will ever hurt his eyes again, and the soil of a thousand -Hungarian harvests is being torn from us. Poor fellow! Does he know that -he has sacrificed his young eyes for nought? - -A man of the Army Medical Corps came in and told us that some wounded -had arrived in the shed. My sister Vera and I took tea and bread. As -I went along I overheard a conversation among some soldiers near the -wall. Said one: “I put my knife into him with a will; the point came out -at his back. The other one escaped.” “I did one in too,” said a deeper -voice. I thought I must be dreaming. I stopped, but could not make out -what else was said, as they began to talk in thieves’ jargon. “I’ll -report them ...” I thought—but I only thought that for a moment, for I -saw the sergeant with the red ribbon on his arm, and the pince-nez on -his nose, going up to them and shaking hands.... No, one can’t report -anyone nowadays. As I went on, the talk became louder behind me. They -mentioned a name, but it meant nothing to me; at that moment it was a -mere sound, and it was not till much later that I remembered that I had -heard it before—Béla Kún. He had been a communist agitator in Russia, -who, with several others, had been sent to Hungary by Trotski to work -in his interest. It is said that they brought money with them, a lot of -money, and it is rumoured that they had something to do with the events -of October. More followed them, and though the government knows all about -them, still it allows them to cross the border. Trotski, Liebknecht, -Rosa Luxemburg, and then this lot—Nets are spread broadcast and tunnels -burrowed under-ground. The suburbs of Budapest are haunted by ugly, -red-eyed monsters. To-day they still hide in the dark, slink along the -walls with drawn-in claws. But to-morrow—who knows? - - * * * * * - - _November 23rd._ - -The dark wall at the station and the voices I heard there followed me -into the night, lingered in my thoughts, and were still there in the -morning when I woke. - -In the evening I mentioned the incident to my mother, and she too had -heard of the man called Béla Kún. His real name was Berele Kohn, the -son of a Galician Jew who came over the frontier with a pack on his -back. He himself had risen to be a journalist and the secretary of the -Socialist party in Kolozsvár, from which job he went to the Workman’s -Benevolent Society. There he stole. The war saved him from prosecution. -He was called up, and sent to the Russian front, where he soon managed -to surrender. Through his international racial connections he got to -Moscow, where he fell in with Trotski, and from then onward carried on -his propaganda among prisoners. He became the leader in Russia of the -Jewish Communists from Hungary, edited a Hungarian paper called “The -Social Revolution,” and finally joined a Bolshevist directorate in one of -the smaller towns and played his part in the atrocities committed there. - -“I heard,” my mother said, “that he came back with a lot of Russian -money. Károlyi’s government does not interfere with him in any way.” - -“Of course; Károlyi is said to be in communication with Trotski through -Diener-Dénes and Landler,” I replied. - -Károlyi went to Switzerland in the autumn of 1917 with Diener-Dénes and -Jászi, who introduced him to Henri Guilbeaux, an extreme syndicalist -and defeatist editor, who used his newspaper to work for the same moral -dissolution which was carried to power in Russia by Lenin and Trotski. -It is said that it was this Guilbeaux who converted Károlyi to the -ideas which Béla Kún has now come to represent among us. Later came the -congratulatory wire of the Soviet’s Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, the -destructive work of the Radical and Socialist ministers, the confirmation -of Pogány’s Soldiers’ Council and of his system of confidential -shop-stewards and the unrestricted freedom of communist agitators.... -These are signs of his guilt, and they are a dark augury for the future. - -This is a new milestone which fills us with apprehension, another one of -those measures which are meant to undermine the existing Social order. - -The great French Revolution was fatally influenced from the day that the -people and the rabble of Paris stormed the Arsenal and plundered it. -In Budapest no force is required. The Police Commissioner himself has -instructed the police and the people’s guards to confiscate all arms and -ammunition from those who possess no permit—and nowadays permits are only -given to workmen and the mob. - -That is another breach in the power of resistance of the middle classes -and in the sanctity of the home. Henceforth the people’s guards have the -right to search for arms. The citizens are helpless, and I hear that -everywhere people are giving up their shotguns and revolvers. - -We are a pack of spell-bound sleep-walkers. The wizard glares at us with -his big, oriental eyes and pronounces his spell, which varies according -to the times: Democracy, Socialism. Yesterday the magic word was -Liberalism, to-morrow it may be Communism. - - * * * * * - - _November 24th._ - -Nights are sleepless nowadays, yet I cannot work. As if every word of -beauty had been engulfed by the mire through which I wade in day time, -I cannot form a single idea. In the dreary desert of my brain nothing -wanders but horrors: the morning brings them, and they are not banished -by the end of the day. - -[Illustration: BELA KUN (KOHN). - -(_To face p. 160._)] - -I wrote some letters last night, and this morning I sent out for stamps. -The maid put them on the writing table before me. - -What is this?—Printed across the portrait of the King, of the Queen, -across the picture of the house of Parliament, there is the black -surcharge: “Republic.” Printed over the beautiful little head of the -Queen, “Republic”: the word runs across St. Stephen’s crown on the King’s -head! - -A thought that has tortured me many times since the 16th of November once -again wrings my heart: The crown, our crown.... - -It is not a jewel, it is not an ornament, it is not pomp, it is Hungary -itself. Kingdoms have come and gone, but there was no people in this -world to whom its crown meant so much as our crown meant to us. The -Hungarian crown is every Hungarian soul, every clod of its soil, every -Hungarian harvest. With it is torn from the country’s head not kingship -alone, but all that we have been, all that we may ever be. From century -to century the ancient symbol wrought in gold has been preserved in -an iron-bound chest up there in the religious gloom of the castle of -Buda; within the last thousand years it has only appeared in the light -of day fifty-three times, borne on the heads of fifty-three Kings—over -the Hungarian land. And once more, when a thousand years had passed, on -the day of the Millenium.... Exposed to the public view, it lay on the -altar of the Coronation Church. The people came, I saw them with my own -eyes—gray-haired peasants, workmen, lords—and bent the knee in front of -it as if before a holy thing. And I saw it on the head of King Charles -on a December day, under the ancient walls of regal Buda, amidst the -unfurled banners of sixty-three counties, amidst deafening cheers, amidst -the sound of our great, clear, national anthem. - -Traitors and _sans-patries_ have torn St. Stephen’s crown from its -place with sacrilegious hands. That crown was not only a King’s -head-dress. Like a golden hoop it welded together the giant range of -the Carpathians, Transylvania, the blue gulf of Adria, Croatia and -Slavonia—the whole realm of the Great Plain, the country which formed -the most perfect geographical unit in Europe. And now that the golden -hoop holds it together no longer, that which has been united since the -beginning of time falls to pieces and to ruins. - -I was gripped by a maddening fear and began to tremble with apprehension -for the crown, as if it were something more living than life itself. I -felt that we only existed as long as it existed, that its destruction -would make our destruction inevitable. What do they plot, these present -despots of ours, who hate everything that connects us with our past? It -is not Károlyi who will stop them: as far as he is concerned they can do -what they like with the crown. - -A few days ago Count Ambrózy, the Keeper of the Crown Jewels, went to -Michael Károlyi’s house and asked for admittance. Károlyi was lunching -with Count Pejacsevich when the butler announced that the Keeper of the -Crown Jewels was waiting. - -“Let him wait,” said Károlyi. “I am lunching,” and continued his meal -undisturbed. After a time he was told again that Count Ambrózy wanted to -see him urgently, as he had to leave town. Károlyi, to whom Kéri, Jászi -and Pogány are admitted at all hours, sent a message to the first grandee -of Hungary, to wait. He lit his cigar and sipped his coffee. About half -an hour later the Keeper of the Crown Jewels sent another message. - -“If he cannot wait, let him go,” said Károlyi. Count Pejacsevich implored -him. At last he gave in. “All right, I’ll settle with him in two minutes.” - -He went out, cigar in mouth, and two minutes later was back again. -“Settled,” he said laughing. “Ambrózy came to ask me what should be -done with the crown. I told him: take it to a bank, or put it into your -pocket, I don’t care....” - -[Illustration: ST. STEPHEN’S CROWN (THE HOLY HUNGARIAN CROWN). - -(_To face p. 162._)] - -And I seemed to see again the mystic dusk of the Coronation Church, -its pillars and arches, and there in front of the altar, set on purple -velvet, the pale gold of the Crown.... I see the gray head of an aged -peasant whose sharp Turanian features seem as if cut out with a chisel -from the gloom of the church; the head bows, and his horny hand makes -the sign of the cross on his breast. - - * * * * * - - _November 25th._ - -My mother brought a porcelain figure into the room to-day. “It is -broken,” she said, and put the Sévres shepherd and his tiny broken hand -on the table. Its beauty filled me for a moment with extraordinary -rapture: doubtless it appeared so lovely to me because nowadays -everything we see is so very ugly and depressing. - -“Of course I know it’s going to stay here with you for the winter,” my -mother said with a slight reproach in her voice, reminding me of the many -small commissions I forgot from time to time. - -“I’ll take it at once ...” I said. - -“There is no need for that; there is plenty of time if you are otherwise -engaged.” - -At that moment I felt I had no other task in the whole world but her -little porcelain figure. I said goodbye and went. - -It was getting dark. Here and there the sparsely subdued glimmer of the -gas-lamps made a pretence of lighting the streets; dust-bins full of -garbage stood in front of the houses, but nobody could be found to cart -them away. The air was saturated with an acid, unwholesome smell, which -fostered the epidemic that had raged in the town for weeks, creeping in -through filthy entrances, climbing the dirty stairs, and, in the chill of -fireless houses, laying its hand on the heart of the inhabitants. - -When I reached the little street I wanted it was practically in darkness. -Only the shop windows cast square patches of yellow light on the -footpath. I entered a little shop in one of whose mean windows some old -china was displayed. The shelves, the tables, every available space was -filled with broken china, and the repairer sat among the débris, with -his hat on his head and in his winter coat, looking for all the world -like a picture by a Dutch master. He had noble features, and his white -beard covered his chest, and on his first finger he wore an old ring -with a coat of arms.... One day when I had gone there he had told me -that he came of a county family. He had owned land, and a nice house -with a pillared court, under the shade of old trees; he used to drive -a four-in-hand and to collect china as a hobby. Somehow the land, the -house, the horses disappeared; so did his collection, and the only thing -that was left to him was the art of repairing broken porcelain by which -he now eked out a sort of living. - -When I had finished my business with him I did not go straight home. One -street after another seemed to call to me, and I walked on thinking sadly -of that old Hungarian’s fate. Shop after shop I passed, all with Jewish -names—marine stores, crockery-shops, tallow-chandlers, small bazaars. A -few years ago their owners had lived in Galicia, and all of a sudden they -had appeared in the streets of Pest selling boot-laces. They had never -shouldered a hod, never carried bricks, never followed the plough, but -made money without hard work, by buying and selling; now they had their -shop, the cradle of millions. They start their careers in the narrow -streets in which our own folk end theirs. - -Somehow I had wandered into the crowded quarters of Budapest’s ghetto. -These streets had been fixed by nobody as the abode of the invading Jews. -The times have passed long ago when a Jew was not allowed to stay a night -either in Buda or in Pest, and when he could own neither house nor shop. -In fifty years they have conquered the town, and yet they have formed -for themselves a little ghetto of their very own. They have invaded -whole streets, occupying tenement-houses, in which they can live amongst -themselves. The newly built streets and houses soon became filthy, and -the entrances vomited the same odour which I have smelt in the ghettoes -of Amsterdam, Rome and Venice. - -As I looked up I felt as if I were in a foreign town whose houses were -silently conspiring in the dark above the lighted shops. I had never -noticed it before, but there seemed to be here a secret, antagonistic -life which had nothing in common with ours, from which we were excluded. -The mask was dropped and the character of the streets became visible. The -sense of security of this foreign race had increased to such an extent -that it forgot to hide itself. It had been dissembling for a good while, -though, and we had lived here, and had heard and seen nothing. We did -not trouble about the course of events, and while they clasped hands -fanatically, from the gin shops at the village end, from tenement-houses, -editorial offices, shops, banks and palaces, over five continents, we -forsaken Hungarians could not hold together even in our own little -country. - -Some of us begin to see clearly to-day, though what is happening now -happened yesterday too—then in secretive darkness, now in open daylight. -The immigrants have effaced the features of our race from the land, have -dug out our souls from our national affairs and substituted their faces, -their soul. This evil work has been going on for a long time. - -The people who came from foreign lands were foreign to us only, but not -to the people of the ghetto. They whispered things we did not hear, went -to the ghetto of some other town, whispered again, and again went on and -on. Trotski had been in Budapest—he had lived here years ago. Others came -too, people whose co-religionists alone knew what they were after. We -only saw worms that cringed, we never listened to what they said to each -other. - -I felt as if the whole quarter were speaking, as if every house, every -street in it were quoting from the ancient book of its inhabitants: “A -people which have eyes to see, and see not; they have ears to hear and -hear not.” - -My wandering eyes were suddenly arrested by the sight of three men. One -had the features of a negro, the second a heavy, fat face, and the third -was quite small, with red eyelids and white eyelashes. Their heads were -close together. When I stopped in front of a shop window and pretended to -look at its contents they stopped talking, and I saw by the reflection -in the window that they looked at me, nodded at one another and moved -on. Two others, clad in gabardines, came towards me. They wore fur caps -and gesticulated violently with dirty hands raised to the level of their -shoulders. One was speaking; the other listened with his eyes fixed on -the ground and with dirty fingers caught hold of the lock dangling from -the side of his head and drew it out straight to his chin. He stood like -that for a time, reflectively, and occasionally mumbled a word. Then, -noticing that I was looking at him, he stopped in the middle of a word -and let his lock go; it curled up to his ear like a spring. Then they too -went on. - -King Street swarmed around me. Unkempt, fat women stood in the doorways, -silk dresses rustled on the pathway, and the smell of filth mingled with -that of cheap scent. Children shrieked. From the entrances of restaurants -with Hebrew names the reek of garlic spread into the street. The doors of -small shops opened and closed continually, and the articles suspended on -them swung about; chains and watches rattled against the panes, stockings -and ribbons fluttered to and fro, and the medley of badly lit windows -displayed old clothes, confectionery, plucked geese, jewellery, boots. A -woman passed, pushing along a perambulator laden with soap. On the street -corner a bandy-legged little monster in a gabardine sold figs and blinked -with his dull eyes at the passers-by. A red-bearded man stopped near him. -They spoke fast and their lips moved as if they had gulped down some -burning hot mouthfuls of something. As I approached them the red-bearded -one turned abruptly round and slipped into a goldsmith’s shop. I looked -after him.... A quaint old watch was hanging in the shop-window. I -wondered what they wanted for it. - -The chains hanging from the entrance door tinkled as I went in. A shaded -lamp hung from the smoky ceiling low above the glazed counter, in which -rings and ear-rings were displayed on velvet cushions. Several people -were standing in a corner, but as soon as they saw me they retired to -the back of the shop. Only a fat flabby girl remained, and as she asked -me what I wanted she fingered her untidy black hair, and scratched -herself. Meanwhile she watched the door, and when it opened bent quickly -over the counter and pointed with her grimy thumb over her shoulder. A -well-dressed man in a fur coat, and with a typical face, passed behind -me and joined the others. Then a sailor came in and he too was called -in to join the group. Many voices whispered mysteriously in the room at -the back of the shop. I listened attentively, straining my ears to hear -something, one sentence, of all this talk which was not meant for us and -was only mentioned among themselves—but I could not understand a word.... - -“I am afraid it won’t do,” I said to the girl, and hurried out of the -shop in disgust. - -I walked fast, almost running through the crowd, as if I were escaping -the meshes of a conspiracy which floated in the air but which one could -not grasp, because as soon as one touched it it fell to pieces like slime. - -The whole quarter was on the look-out for some prey. Its streets were -haunted by some premeditated crime. In its houses a greedy monster, which -has never shut its eyes for a thousand years, kept vigil. - -Away from here, into the fresh air! I was haunted by the thought of the -room in the little shop, the whispering Jews, Russian money on the table; -of the sergeant with his golden pince-nez, who had mentioned the name of -Béla Kún to the soldiers; of the faces of Jászi, Kunfi and Louis Hatvany; -of the bandy-legged monster at the street corner, the man with the red -beard and the flabby girl.... They are all after the same thing and are -helping each other all they can, while we have lost the power of wanting -anything at all.... - -That night I wrote an appeal to the women of Hungary. Women! sleep not, -or your children will have no place to lay their heads.... - - * * * * * - - _November 26th._ - -In the afternoon I walked towards the boulevards. - -Countess Louis Batthyany had telephoned that she wanted to see me. I made -my way through a dense crowd, for the town is overrun by the constant -influx of refugees and of thousands of home-coming soldiers. On the -boulevards people thronged; there hardly seemed to be enough room for -them. The human tide overflowed into the by-streets, pushed, pressed, -swarmed and accumulated in front of the windows of newspaper offices -like a knotted muscle. In the office window of an evening newspaper were -some photographs, and under one of them was an inscription, “The members -of the Soldiers’ Council.” There were too many people for me to get -near, so that I could only see it at a distance as I passed—the faces, -exhibited in glory, of those who were guilty of the rebellion of October, -and who may one day be called to account. - -“What do you think of that?” a voice asked among the loiterers. “The -Minister for War has had Heltai arrested for embezzlement, robbery and -murder.” “What? the ex-commander of the town?” “That’s him ... and now -his sailors are coming in armoured cars with machine-guns to rescue him. -There’s going to be trouble.” The news spread at once. “Have you heard -it?” “It is not true?” “But it is!” There was a panic. And the people in -the streets carried it on with them: “The sailors are coming! They have -left Pressburg, they have left the Czechs....” - -Crowded electric trams passed, so crammed with people that the pressure -inside nearly broke the cars’ sides; outside people were hanging on -everywhere. I saw some soldiers coming along, when suddenly one of them -tumbled forward, tripped over his own foot and fell, face downward, on -the pavement. Nobody troubled about him and even his companions went on -indifferently. With a remnant of war-time charity I stooped over him, -thinking that perhaps he had an artificial leg, or was suffering from an -epileptic fit. When I took hold of his arm to help him to get up again, -however, I found that he was drunk and vomiting. As I started back I -heard his companions roar with laughter. - -The crowd carried me on, but the incident was like a thorn thrust into -one’s heart. Soldiers, Hungarian soldiers! There had been a time when -my eyes filled with tears at the sight of them. How proud I had felt of -them, how I had respected them, I had loved them as being the personified -courage of my race. What are they now...? - -When I arrived at my friend’s house I found the talk turning on Michael -Károlyi, to whom several of those present were related. I asked them if -they knew the conditions of the armistice concluded with Diaz, that they -had safeguarded the frontiers of the country, which the Belgrade treaty -had sacrificed? The news was so mad, so impossible, that doubt showed in -every eye. - -“I know it for certain,” I said; “a member of the armistice commission, -Lieut.-Colonel Julier, told my brother so.” - -Anger succeeded consternation on every face. - -“Get me the text,” Count Julius Batthyany shouted, “and I will have the -two documents posted up, side by side, and within twenty-four hours the -whole government will collapse.” - -His beautiful mother looked at him doubtfully: - -“Do you imagine that there is so much liberty left in this town? The -posters would be torn to shreds before they could be stuck on the walls.” - -“They promised us the freedom of the press and of opinions, and we get -nothing but lies.” - -“Let us organise against them. That is the only way to defeat their -lies,” said Countess Batthyany, “it was with that intent that I asked you -to come.” - -“You are thinking of the women?” - -“Yes....” - -“I have thought of them too,” I said. “There are several of us who think -the same. We must find some common-place programme to hide our real -purpose: women alone can rebuild the lost faith.” - -“Work out the programme and take the leadership of the movement.” - -“I don’t want to be anything but a common soldier,” I answered; “I am -only an author and know nothing of these things.” - -“For all that you will have to do it. Your lead will be followed. I want -to work too.” - -I shook my head. I was ready to do anything, but did not feel the -vocation for leadership. - -“We will try too,” said Count Batthyany. “Somehow we must succeed in -getting rid of this crowd.” - -“We will talk it all over,” said his mother. - -So she is with us too, I pondered when leaving. She, the aunt of both -Count Michael and Countess Károlyi! How many of us felt the same thing! -It seemed to be floating in the air, and waiting for someone among us to -put it into words. - -The street had changed while I had been in the house. No lamps were -burning, the trams were not running, and the snow was falling heavily. -Had a strike broken out suddenly? Was the supply of coal exhausted? Or -was it because of Heltai’s sailors? - -The little side-streets gaped dismally in the dark. A ramshackle cab -trotted through the snow. - -“How much to Stonemason Street?” I asked. - -“Sixty crowns,” the driver answered from his seat. - -“Not so long ago it would have been two crowns....” - -He drove on, cursing me, and I went on, ploughing my way through the -snow. There was an uncanny silence about the place. Out in the country -the silence of the woods and meadows is that of rest, while here in town -silence seems to be the preliminary of some hidden attack. That was what -it felt like now. Against my will I was looking behind me all the time, -and I hurried as fast as I could across the entrances of the alleys. - -The bright, clean streets, policemen, protection, security of the -past—where have they all gone? - -Civilisation was only a scaffolding which was covered with paper posters -so that we should not see that there was no building behind it, and it -has collapsed at a single blow. It is a wreck, and wolves prowl over the -abandoned ground. The town has slipped suddenly back to the times when -nobody who started on an errand at night knew if he would ever see home -again. - -At the next corner a cab turned out into the boulevard and I felt a -little safer. But I did not enjoy the sight of the cab for very long. Two -soldiers emerged from a doorway and ran after it, shouting loudly. The -driver made signs that he had passengers, but stopped out of fear that -they might shoot him. The soldiers didn’t trouble to discuss the matter, -but simply opened the door of the cab, kicked the passenger out of it, -and took his place. The cab, as if driving into a white veil, disappeared -rapidly in the falling snow. The street became lonely and quiet. Only the -snow glittered, and even as the flakes drifted into my face I decided -that after all in these days it was wiser to walk.... - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - _November 27th._ - -After all this humiliation, shameful submission and silence entire -districts of the country are raising their voices in protest. - -The Széklers in Transylvania have risen; the flag of the Székler’s -corps has been unfurled, and Count Stephen Bethlen has organised a -Székler National Council. Transylvania is graven on his heart and he -has remained faithful to himself. He has always sacrificed everything -to the good of the country. It is encouraging to hear his name in these -times when everybody thinks only of himself. And after Transylvania, -Upper Hungary raises its voice, the towns of Zips, Zemplén and our -faithful brethren the Slovaks, whom neither gold nor the lash will -persuade that they belong to the Czechs. The Bunyevats swear to stick -to their fatherland and so do the Catholic Serbians; and far away in -the North the Ruthenians, Rákoczi’s own folk, that _gens fidelissima et -carissima_, protest violently—they, who live precariously in the depths -of the Carpathians, on the road by which the Galician Jews invade us. -I know their poor little villages, pounced upon by the army of leeches -in gabardines, bloodthirsty, insatiable, on its westward march. That is -the road by which, for decades, the Polish and Russian Jews have come -to us; they cut off their payés, side-locks, in Kassa, throw off their -gabardines in Miskolocz and become barons and millionaires in Budapest. - -Successive Hungarian Governments have left the Ruthenians of the frontier -undefended against this invading horde, and yet these pious people have -remained, for all their poverty, patient and faithful to us. And now they -stand by our side, desperately; they don’t ask for autonomy, they want -no special privileges, they just want to remain one with us, because we -have never harmed them. Neither the propaganda of the Ukrainians and -Russian Imperialists, nor the schismatical attempts at their conversion, -nor anything else has had any effect on them. They are clamouring for -Hungarian schools, while a foreign race speaking in the name of Budapest -denies them their very nationality; and their Bishop, Andrew Szabó, sends -the following message in their name: “There is no need of a declaration -of loyalty on the part of Hungary’s Ruthenians, because this people has -never faltered.” - -But this does not suit Mr. Jászi, the Minister for Nationalities. He -wants to transform our great geographical unit into a sort of Eastern -Switzerland, and he has invented a new name, Ruszka-Krajna, for the green -counties of whispering woods, the ancient part of Hungary inhabited by -the Ruthenians. - -There he stands, in the midst of a poisoned town, the son of Russo-Polish -Jews, declaiming, with all the destructive vigour of his race, separatist -theories against associations made by nature itself, forgetting that, -while in Switzerland the extreme branches of three races join in a common -summit, in Hungary the peoples’ streams flow into a common basin, the -strength and soul of which must always be the Hungarian people. - -And while he holds forth, and declares that in a single moment he is -going to efface the history of a thousand years, these thousand years of -Hungarian history shout from every side in desperate protest. Széklers, -Slovaks, Ruthenians, Germans and Catholic Serbians clamour like suffering -brethren, appealing to each other over the indifference shown by a -muzzled land. The voices of their anguish come like a storm down the -mountains and join over the Great Plain under the November sky in a -harmony that knows no discord. And the winds on their myriad wings carry -the sad appeal on and on, and sow it as a seed for the future from which, -one day, we shall gather a rich harvest of revenge. - - * * * * * - - _November 28th._ - -The protests from our outposts have died away and the tragic ray of light -has been swallowed up in the general gloom. As long as the despoilers of -the nation are in power it will always be like that. The Government has -given millions to the Transylvanian Roumanians and has supplied them with -a profusion of arms, taken from Hungarian soldiers, while it leaves the -Hungarians and Széklers in sweating terror, defenceless in the midst of -an enemy that clamours for their lives. - -Károlyi’s Government supports everybody who is against us. To-day, for -instance, while I was on duty at the railway station, I saw special -trains being put together with feverish haste. Roumanian agitators are -calling together in Gyulafehérvár a Roumanian National assembly which -intends, it is said, to declare for the separation of many purely -Hungarian counties of Transylvania. And to facilitate the business the -Hungarian Government puts special trains at the disposal of our enemies! -The whole thing is as though someone were grinning maliciously over a -body writhing in agony. - -There was great activity at the station to-day. The old refreshment -shed of the Red Cross has been transformed into a refreshment room for -returning soldiers. We who had for many years worked there with the -Red Cross offered our services in vain. White bread, which we had not -seen for a long time, and sausages, were distributed to the soldiers by -Jewesses who wore neither hat nor cap and looked unkempt and untidy. They -had been sent by the Social Democratic party, and care for the soldiers -was only a secondary part of their duty: they distributed handbills and -talked propaganda to the returning men. Notwithstanding our Red Cross -and our papers one of the women came up to us and asked us to leave the -place, as they had been put in charge of it. - -With my sister and a friend we went back to the other refreshment -room. “We have been kicked out,” I reported. We were now told that the -Government, after having dismissed those who had directed the work of the -Red Cross during the war, had appointed Countess Michael Károlyi to the -head of the Red Cross—as Delegate of the Government. This position had -always been filled gratuitously by grey-haired noblemen, but now Countess -Károlyi voted herself a salary of eighty thousand crowns and had it paid -out to her for a year in advance. - -“One of her assistants has already been here,” said someone belonging to -the Red Cross. “She made a great fuss and declared that Countess Károlyi -would turn out all the ladies who had formerly done the work.” - -“It will be a noble sight,” I said; “I shall stay and see it through.” - -At this moment the sergeant with the red ribbon came in. Two soldiers -with fixed bayonets followed him. They came straight up to me. “We have -found some suspicious leaflets on the platform, royalist muck....” - -“I don’t know anything about any leaflets,” I answered, delighted to hear -that some had at last made their appearance. - -“The scent leads here,” the sergeant said threateningly, “it is said they -are distributed here.” - -“Search me,” I said, and turned out the pockets of my white apron. But I -was too happy to dissemble: I laughed heartily. - - * * * * * - - _November 29th._ - -I stood in front of the cashier’s little glass cage, leaning my elbows -on the cool marble slab. There were only a few people coming and going -in the big offices of the bank; a few servant girls sat about with their -deposit-books in their hands. - -“How’s business in these days?” I asked the cashier as he pushed my money -over the counter. - -“We have never been like this before. War-time was a perfect golden age -in comparison.” He leant toward me and spoke in a whisper. “The Jews are -exploiting the country and the Government shamelessly. The salary of a -minister used to be twelve thousand crowns. The ministers of the popular -Government have allotted themselves two hundred thousand and have had it -paid out for a year in advance. For overtime, they take one hundred and -sixty crowns an hour. The number of Ministers and Government delegates -increases every day. There are forty Secretaries of State running about -Budapest. Every radical journalist wants to be at least a Secretary of -State. Treasury notes are printed as fast as posters. It is said that the -popular Government has spent three milliards in a month—twice as much as -the most expensive month of the war. This peace is an expensive thing, -and one can’t say that the republic is exactly cheap. We are racing -towards bankruptcy. Many people are taking their money to Switzerland....” - -“What I possess shall remain here. If the country is ruined, we -Hungarians will be ruined with it, at any rate.” - -“It is wise to take precautions however,” the cashier said. “It is -rumoured that all gold and silver is to be commandeered.” - -On my way home his last words kept coming to my mind. Among our old -family papers there is a little scrap of a document dated 1848, addressed -to my grandfather, Charles Tormay; it is a receipt for the silver he -had delivered to the mint to cover the issue of Kossuth’s banknotes. My -father once told me how on a certain day all the silver was heaped up on -the dining-room table. He was a little boy at the time, and asked how -he would be able to stir the sugar in his coffee if all the spoons were -taken away? “With a wooden spoon,” his mother said. My father could not -bear the idea of that, so he hung about the silver till he managed to -steal a little spoon. Everything else was melted down, and that little -spoon is the only thing that remains of our old family silver. - -They gave it, and we would give it, but not to this crowd. I wouldn’t eat -with a wooden spoon for the sake of the entire government. - - * * * * * - - _November 30th._ - -A yellow fog has descended on the town. The houses have disappeared in -it, and the rooms are dark, as if the windows were covered outside with -mud-coloured blinds. Though it is forenoon, the lamps are burning in the -houses, as if a corpse were laid out in every room in the town. I never -saw a fog like this. It looks the very picture of our lives. - -Fog ... clinging, dense fog. People choke as they walk, in an accursed -land; they slip about in the sticky, heavy mud, and can neither halt -nor run. A doomed city is our prison. The hearths are cold, we have no -light, and all the doors are shut. Streets end in darkness, and at the -street corners cold blasts strike one, coming no one knows whence. One -cannot escape it. One has to go on, under dark windows, through the fog, -across deadly alleys. Nobody looks out of the houses, and there is no -sign of life about. The air seems to be a sloppy glue closing suddenly -over one’s mouth like a horrible, gigantic hand, and stopping one’s -breath. We shudder with discomfort and misery, and if we try to lay hold -of something solid, the walls recede before our groping hands, and the -doors move like ghosts. They are not locked, just ajar, and they open -noiselessly inward. Behind them somebody stands and waits, waits with -open eyes in the dark, conscious of some awful news impending: Hungary -has lost something again.... In the next street, in all the streets about -us, red ferocious beasts are lurking with soft noiseless steps, ready to -pounce.... - -That is our present life. Fog, yellow, clinging fog, in which the town, -with all its streets and houses, glides on mud towards a bottomless abyss. - -Day by day more cockades of the national colours disappear from the -soldiers’ caps, and as each one disappears it leaves a wound: a spot -of blood ... red buttons take their place. In one of the main streets -yesterday a red flag was displayed on a house. In the northern suburbs -communists meet in shady little inns, and in the streets foreign-looking -men harangue chance crowds from dust-bins or the tops of hand-carts. With -sweeping gestures they declare: “Everything is yours! Take everything!” - -These words are all over the town to-day, and Károlyi’s Government says -it all the time, in every one of its declarations: “Everything is yours!” -It says it to socialists, communists, radicals, Czechs, Roumanians, -Serbians.... - -[Illustration: A COMMUNIST ORATOR. - -(_To face p. 176._)] - -Having begun with the Roumanians, Jászi now takes counsel with the -Slovaks; and while the Czechs’ troops descend, unhindered, into the -valley of the Vág, and occupy town after town, the precious springs of -Pöstyén among others, Jászi, Diener-Dénes and a fellow called Braun hand -over to them our thousand-year-old rights. Jászi has already presented -them with five Hungarian counties and offers a common administration -for ten more. He bargains, humbles himself, and libels our rule of a -thousand years. And even while he was shamefully giving up everything, -and stupidly betraying the Government’s hopeless inability to act, it -turns out that the whole of the negotiations were nothing but a trap. -After having surveyed the situation here, Prag has informed Budapest -officially: “No negotiations whatever with the Hungarian Government have -been authorised by the Czecho-Slovak Republic....” - -Such are our rulers. They sell us over and over again every day. What I -was told in whispers is now admitted by the Government itself, because -Vlad, the leader of the Roumanian guards in Transylvania, has given the -show away. To display his strength and power, he told the unfortunate -Hungarian inhabitants of Transylvania: “The Roumanian guards have -received from the Hungarian Government ten million crowns and fifty-five -thousand infantry equipments.” Now even the deaf can hear what the -Government does with the arms it has filched from our soldiers, who, -notwithstanding their disbandment, were anxious to defend the soil of -their country. It gives the arms of Hungarian soldiers to Roumanians, -while it collects the weapons of Hungarian citizens for the benefit of -ruffians, escaped convicts and vagabond deserters. - -The eternally harassing question: what is going on? has ceased to worry -me. Now I know that everything that happens is barefaced treason, unlike -any thing that has ever happened in my people’s history. The clauses -of a secret red treaty dictate every purpose, every action, and its -stipulations influence everything that has happened in Hungary since the -31st of October. - - * * * * * - - _December 1st._ - -Once upon a time December meant something lovely, glittering, cold, -white, and the warmth of bright fires. Now its whiteness is death, its -cold is torture, and everywhere the fires are out. - -The cold at night is awful. Its breath penetrates into the rooms, and -terrifies one. When the maid told us this morning that there was no coal -left in the cellar, I could not believe her. I took a candle and went -down the winding staircase into the dark. The coal dust crackled under my -feet and the light of the candle flickered to and fro on the cobwebbed -wall. The cellar was empty; only a few logs of wood were lying in a -corner. It was some time before I realised what that emptiness meant. I -did not move, but just stood rooted to the spot while my breath steamed -in the candle-light. - -We had received our coal-permit eight months before, and were sent by the -coal-office to a big coal merchant. Week after week passed and we got -no coal. I wrote, sent messages, went myself at last. On the stairs of -the building misery and cold were thronging patiently, and sad-looking -people were loafing about in the office. I had to wait as though in the -ante-room of a minister. Now and then the lady secretary called one of us -by name. Jewesses in fur coats and with diamond earrings were standing -behind me and laughing among themselves. They had come after me, yet they -were admitted before me. Beside me a poor woman in a shawl was waiting -and a gentleman in a shabby coat which had seen better days. The woman -complained quietly: for days she had been unable to cook because she -had no fuel. The gentleman, a judge in a high position, said that his -children could not get out of bed, but had remained there for over a -week, because their rooms were so cold. - -We waited patiently for hours. Noon passed. The secretary looked at her -watch and said aggressively: “Too late, come to-morrow!” - -“But here is my coal-permit! I got it in April.” The spirit of rebellion -rose in me. I felt for the others too, for all of us who waited there, -Hungarians, who no longer had any voice in anything. - -The coal merchant, the secretary, both were Jews. These people have -usurped every office and they put off from one day to another what is -due to us, or throw it at our heads as if it were a charity. To-morrow! -With clenched fists I went the next day, and the day after.... Patient -women, weeping old grannies, pushing, angry men. The coal merchant -crossed the ante-room quickly, and imploring voices tried to catch his -attention. But he answered back like a dictator deciding a question of -grace: “Wait your turn!” - -Again I went, and befurred and bejewelled women came down as I went up, -gloating over their success. I heard what they said—_they_ had got what -they wanted; and everywhere it is the same. With the impotence of a -subdued race we go away empty-handed, and there is no place where we can -assert our rights. They have the power, and they laugh in our faces. - -And the coal in our cellar has been used up and we live in unwarmed rooms. - - * * * * * - - _December 2nd._ - -The morning was still dark when the ringing of a bell broke in upon -my dreams. It worried me, floated over my head like the buzzing of a -bluebottle, stopped, and started again. I woke. - -It was the telephone in the ante-room. - -“The farmer? Oh yes, near our villa! Last night burglars entered the -villa ... my sister’s too! I understand....” - -At the police station I received but cold comfort. - -“I don’t see what good it can do to take your complaints down,” said a -little man who seemed to be a clerk. “Last night sixteen villas were -pillaged on one hill alone. As for the town, God alone knows how many -houses and shops have been visited by burglars. We can’t go into such -matters. Where could we find enough detectives, when those we have -already have other irons in the fire?” - -“They are searching for counter-revolutionists,” said a gentleman, whose -flat had been burgled last night too. “Robbery is free in this country -nowadays.” - -I was sent from the ground-floor to the second, and thence to the -ground-floor again. I wandered through stuffy corridors from one untidy -office, smelling of ink, to another, and at last I was promised that -inquiries would be made. - -Here too everything had changed. New men had replaced the old Hungarian -officials in the police-force. They had got this into their hands too. - -The north wind blew sharply across the bridge, bringing a promise of -snow. Like giants’ brides, the white hills of Buda stood up against the -cold wintry sky, and on them the bare trees cast shadows like blue veins -over the sunlit snow. Everything glittered. For a moment the beauty of it -thrust the town, the trouble, and the burgled house into the background. -On the way I met my sister Mary. She too was coming from the police -station and had two constables with her. The crown had been removed from -the cap of one of them, the other still wore it. - -“So you have not taken it off?” said I. - -“Kings may come and kings may go, but the holy crown will remain in its -place,” he answered. - -“Are you very busy?” I asked, to change the subject. - -“It would not do for things to remain as they are.” - -“After all, it was the adherence of the police that settled the matter,” -I retorted. - -The two men looked at each other, but said nothing. Meanwhile we reached -the house. The snow on the roof glittered against the blue sky. On the -ground there were footmarks in the snow, which led to the terrace. It was -obvious that the burglars had climbed the creepers on the wall and had -entered the house in that way. In nearly every room a kitchen-knife was -lying on the table with its handle standing out beyond the edge, so as to -be easy to catch hold of, had the intruders been disturbed. In the hall a -lot of things were tied up in a bundle. - -“They intended to come back,” said one of the policemen. - -The cupboards were open, and a lot of things had been taken away, while -the floor was littered with things they had rejected when they were -making their choice. The red, white and green flag was torn from its -staff and bore the marks of heavy, muddy boots. The big Bible, as if shot -through the heart, had a bullet hole through it. - -“There are clues enough for me,” I said to my sister. “I have already -found the culprits: the products of the revolution have been visiting us.” - -The constables looked at each other. - -When I got home I told my mother what had happened. She listened to me -with a stern face, in silence. - -“They carried away whatever they could. They even stripped the -mattresses. They scribbled filth on the walls.” - -“These times levy toll on everybody,” said she. “What about those who are -driven from their homes, whose houses are burnt down, who are murdered? -If only fate will be satisfied with this and ask no more from us, if this -is all we have to pay, we shall have no reason to complain.” And she did -not mention the matter again. - -The evening papers were brought in. One name dominated them all: -Gyulafehérvár.... In the town where John Hunyádi, the Hungarian paladin -of Christendom against the Turks, lies buried, over his grave, on the -field at the foot of the castle, the Roumanian Irredenta under the name -of “Roumanian National Council” has carried a resolution: “Transylvania, -the Banat and all the territories of Hungary inhabited by Roumanians are -united with Roumania!”... This happened in Gyulafehérvár, and Károlyi’s -Government sent the Roumanians by special train to this assembly of -treason! He even armed a bodyguard for them, and has given them millions! - -Once more life seems like the dream of a demented brain. “Everything -is yours,” says the Government, so that it may take what the robbers -cannot carry off. They share and share alike, and what care they that in -making their division they break our hearts? The Hungarian population of -Transylvania, abandoned, humiliated, betrayed, must tolerate that its -ancient land should be thrown by Budapest to an uneducated, newly-risen -Balkan state, whose shepherd folk, fleeing from the cruelty of its own -princes, came to Hungary asking for hospitality, a few hundred years ago. -The Széklers have lived for fifteen hundred years in Transylvania, and -the semi-barbarous Roumanian people now laugh in the face of the original -inhabitants, and by right of robbery declare that what was always ours is -now their own. - -The street is quiet. The town listens with a stony heart. The stars alone -tremble above the roofs as if a great sob rose to them _de profundis_. - - * * * * * - - _December 3rd._ - -I went to Buda, to the Castle Hill. We had a meeting at five at Count -Zichy’s palace. - -This house was built in the eighteenth century and is one of Buda’s -finest palaces. Maria Theresa, powdered and bewigged, once lived -here, and her presence still seems to linger about the walls. The -stone staircase rises loftily to the hall on the first floor, whose -low, decorated roof is supported by white pillars. On the white walls -glittered the gilt frames of old pictures. - -The lamp had not yet been lit, but a fire was burning in the wide marble -fireplace and shed its light around from below. It shone back from the -beauty of ancient bronzes, ran over the walls, and under its flickering -touch far-off Chinese springtimes came to life on the old porcelain, and -then melted again into the gloom, suddenly, as the flicker passed by. The -tall furniture stood haughty and clumsy, conscious of the fact that it -had always been there. - -When the lamp was lit others came in, shivering, and we all gathered -round the fire like conspirators, for we all suffered the same pangs, -we all wanted the same thing. We knew that the hour had come, that we -had to call out the women from behind their locked doors. In the history -of Hungary women have not often appeared. They have never had to fight -for their rights, because there is no code in the world which protects -the rights of woman so well as ours did—even in the darker centuries. -They could live quietly in those days, and the handsome narrow faces of -Hungarian women shone only in the mild light of the home fire. Those were -Hungary’s happy days. But when the land was afire and misery was reaping -its harvest, then the Hungarian women rose to the occasion and stood in -the fore-front of the fight. Our country has never suffered greater -distress than now, and, as we sat there, we all knew that the women would -respond to our call and would sow the seed of the counter-revolution. Not -at meetings, not in the market-place, but in their homes, in the souls -of their men exhausted by the hardships of war, men who are down-hearted -to-day but who, to-morrow, will not dare to give the lie to the women who -believe in their courage.... - -I read the draft of the programme in which, hidden among social and -political reforms, I had attempted to sum up the vital needs of the whole -womanhood of Christian Hungary. - -“Let us set forth clearly what we want,” said Countess Raphael Zichy. All -agreed, and at the head of the programme we stated, clearly and tersely, -the Holy Trinity for which we meant to stand: a Christian and patriotic -policy, the integrity of the country, and the sanctity of the family. - -“I do not doubt the result,” said Prince Hohenlohe; “I have done much -organising in Transylvania, and I know what women can do.” - -When we left and dispersed in the quiet streets of Buda, I felt that I -had entered on a new path, which might become my path of destiny. - - * * * * * - - _December 4th to 7th._ - -Henceforth life took on a new aspect. I shook off the paralysis of -despair which had made me a passive sufferer of events. Till now, like -a cripple deprived of the power of movement, I had brooded deeply over -everything that came within my ken, but at last I had become an actor -in deadly earnest in the tragedy, and I could waste no more time over -details. - -The day after the meeting in the Zichy Palace I wrote letters, telephoned -and called to my side a few brave, energetic women. We had no time to -waste, and we decided that each of my guests should invite to her own -home her reliable women friends, and that we should address them, so that -they in their turn might spread the idea of the organisation of Christian -Hungarian women. There was no other solution, for the Press had ceased to -be free. The few Christian and middle-class papers which would otherwise -have been at our disposal had begun to be terrorised by red soldiers. -Our ideals had been condemned to death by the Social Democrats; they had -declared war against patriotism and Christianity. As for the integrity of -Hungary’s soil, they had declared in their official paper that it was no -business of theirs.... - -We had perforce to return to the primitive means of olden times. The idea -was spread by word of mouth, and we separated so as to be able to do -more work. Emma Ritoók visited one end of the town and I the other. Like -the primitive Christians, women gathered now here, now there. I visited -dingy lodgings, baronial halls, schoolrooms; through dark streets, in the -gloom of hostile alleys, I walked in snow and wind day after day. Women -understood me, and their souls glowed with courage and decision in these -sad times of exhaustion and resignation. With very few exceptions they -signed my lists, those who did not had been forbidden to do so by their -husbands. Never once did I find among them the cry of resignation “It is -all over, effort is useless.” I respected them and was grateful to them, -for they were simple, great and faithful. And while I thought of them in -my wanderings from one modest home to another, and tormented myself about -the misfortunes of our country, one scene for ever kept passing before my -eyes. Though the snow was falling and it was dark I could see an eastern -city under a burning sky; a house with pillars, the house of Pilate, and -in the hall stood Our Lord in bonds. In front of the house a crowd, mad -with hatred, clamoured: “Crucify Him, Crucify Him!” - -That is what they are shouting against our fettered country to-day. They -drag it down among themselves, put a crown of thorns upon its head, smite -it and spit upon it. They load it with a heavy cross and drive it unto -the place called Golgotha. They nail it to the cross, so that it shall be -able to see with its dying, bloodshot eyes, how they cast lots for its -vesture at its feet. Then they put it into a sepulchre and roll a great -stone before it, sealing the stone and setting a watch so that it shall -not be able to rise.... - -His disciples and followers hid in despair and left His grave alone—they -had no more hope. But on the third day, very early in the morning, -women went through the blue dawn to His grave. It was women who saw His -resurrection.... The memory of that beautiful, sacred vision must have -remained in their eyes. For thousands of years it has always been women -who have seen resurrection on earth. - -Now, too, they see it, or would they follow me? - -I did not want to be their leader, but the idea wanted it and ordained -that I should be its apostle. When I was tired, when I felt down-hearted -and doubt assailed me, whenever I felt unworthy of the call, I always -remembered that the love for one’s country and people which is put -into one’s soul is the measure of what one is able to achieve. It will -succeed, it must succeed; and my voice, broken with much speaking, -recovered before another meeting at the other end of the town, and women -who had heard me already ran in front of me in the street, so that when I -reached the new meeting they were waiting for me there, and listened to -me again. - -Late at night, dead tired, I struggle home, and flee to my mother for -rest. We sit for a long time in the little green room, and she encourages -me if I am weary, and she always finds the word that heals. Then, late, -we go to sleep. The evening is long and gives me rest. I speak of my -wanderings—and what I had felt dimly, as if in a haze, while my fatigue -lasted, revives with imperative insistence, and I can think of nothing -else. - - * * * * * - -To-day a new misfortune has overtaken Hungary. The French Colonel Vyx, -who has lately come to Budapest as head of the Entente’s military -mission, has sent a memorandum to the Hungarian Government, which -contains the price of the Czechs’ high-treason. The victorious Powers -claim from Hungary the evacuation of all Upper Hungary, because they -recognise the sovereignty of the Czecho-Slovak State and consider its -army as an allied army.... - -I could hardly stop myself from trembling: a wave of utter sorrow and -degradation passed over me. The heralds of right and justice, the new -saviours of the world, regardless of the conditions of the armistice, -simply order us to deliver up our country’s great outpost, the -Carpathians and eighteen of our most lovely counties, to those who never -owned them, who are called the “allies” of the Entente although for many -years they had been the main support of Austria’s power, and its chief -executioners. We Hungarians could tell a tale about that. After our -war of liberation, they, as the secret agents of Austrian absolutism, -_agents provocateurs_, and hangmen plenipotentiary, tortured Hungary’s -people more cruelly than any conqueror has ever done. And Venice and -Lombardy could tell a tale too. There the memory of imperial torturers, -“_gli sbirre austriaci_,” still haunts the country, and most of those -were Czechs. It is they who are responsible for the turn things have -taken, and yet, as allied forces of the Allies, they now participate in -the execution of the armistice which directs the occupation of the old -Monarchy’s territory! - -At the beginning of November fifteen complete Hungarian divisions came -back from the front. If they were still here.... - -I was horrified and looked at my mother. She was thinking of the same -things as I did. And like people who, sitting up with one whom they -love and who is dangerously ill, try to strengthen their faith in his -recovery by speaking of times when the patient was strong and healthy, -we two began to talk, in our vigil of olden times, of lovely summers in -the distant highlands. When we were still children our parents wanted -us to get to know every part of our country, and every holiday they -found a cosy little nest for us in some different county. Summers in -the Carpathians; charming little spas, villages in the forest, quiet, -secluded little towns among the mountains.... The green fields of the -Mátra ... the Pressburg of Maria Theresa ... the towns of the Zips, -and Kassa with its ancient cathedral ... the High Tátra reaching into -the clouds ... the wilderness of Bereg ... the forests of Marmaros ... -and the heaving waters of the Tisza.... Past lovely summers—past with -Hungary’s soul. - -But we shall take it back!... And next day I was up again and carried the -word to the women and poured my faith into their hearts. - -[Illustration: THE VALLEY OF THE GARAM (GIVEN TO CZECHO-SLOVAKIA BY THE -TREATY OF TRIANON). - -_Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 156._)] - -The streets and squares are now darker than ever. A new order has been -published that shops are to be closed at five, and so the shop-windows -are dark after that hour. I passed in front of a Kinematograph, where big -coloured posters near the entrance “featured” Tisza’s death. An actor -was made up as Tisza, and an actress represented Countess Tisza: Denise -Almássy too was impersonated. The manager had had the reel staged on the -authentic spot of the murder. Did he get the murderers to play their own -parts, I wonder? - -As I passed, I listened with disgust to the remarks exchanged by people -coming out from the performance. All Pest is whispering about a sailor -who boasts everywhere that it was he who killed Tisza. It is also said -that Countess Almássy, while dining at the Hotel Ritz, recognised with -horror one of Tisza’s murderers. She asked, “Who is that man?” And -somebody answered: “The President of the Soldiers’ Council, Joseph -Pogány.” But it was only an invention, for Denise Almássy has never been -in town since the murder. All sorts of rumours get about. It is said -that at the War Office the Government has paid out hundreds of thousands -of crowns to suspicious individuals who have rendered great service to -the revolution. The members of the first Soldiers’ Council have received -considerable amounts, nobody knows why. But Károlyi probably knows, and -if he cared to look into matters he might find Tisza’s murderers among -them. - -We live in a quagmire and around us Bolshevism is organising more openly -every day. - -I went home along the banks of the Danube. A small lighter towed a long -raft down stream. A man sat on the stairs of the embankment, and his -head was bowed between drawn-up knees. A child passed me, its bare feet -wrapped in bits of old carpet and the ends of the strings with which -they were tied up dragged behind him in the mud. The shops were already -closed and the streets were in darkness. At the edge of the footpath a -queer little figure was alternately stooping and standing up. As I got -nearer I saw that it was an old woman, clothed in an old-fashioned cloak -of beadwork and with a shabby bonnet on her head, who was searching among -the garbage in the dust bins that stood by the side of the street. A -little basket hung on her arm, and she was collecting putrid bits of food. - -This town is haunted by strange sounds. Foreign money rings, banknotes -rustle, and one cannot see who gives or takes. But the recipient sells -his services for the foreign money and then whispers something broadcast -in the streets. The cloaked woman among the garbage boxes, the despairing -man on the stairs, and the child whose feet protrude naked from scraps of -carpet, they all hear it. - -A crowd gathers, no one knows whence, and soldiers and sailors appear. -Suddenly someone jumps up on a box and begins to make a speech. - -“It is all the fault of the gentle-folk, the counts, the priests and the -bourgeois! They ought to be knocked on the head, every one of them!” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - _December 8th._ - -My way took me through the garden of the old Polytechnic. The place was -black with people. In the great hall of the ‘Stork’s Fort’ Széklers and -Transylvanian Hungarians were gathered together. The streets poured -forth their masses: the crush up there must have been awful. I stopped -against the railings and looked at the passers-by, excited officers, -Székler soldiers, sad, care-worn people—homeless, every one of them. All -their faces were of the Hungarian type. These are the people of whom the -radical press of Budapest writes that they ought to be expelled, because -there is a scarcity of lodgings! - -Would these papers dare to write such a thing of, say, Englishmen, -Frenchmen or Italians? Can it be imagined that we should expel from their -own capital these unfortunate people, while foreign refugees, who could -have returned home long ago, have filled the houses? In the first year -of the war caravans of Galician Jews clad in gabardines fled before the -Russian invasion. They were Austrian citizens, but the Hungarian capital -received them nevertheless. They stayed on and have enriched themselves. -And now, when homeless Hungarians are coming back, the Budapest press of -the Hungarian Government shows them the door. - -A big crowd of men came towards the garden, good looking, shabbily -dressed gentlemen, who might have been officials who had refused to -take the oath of allegiance to the invading Roumanians or Czechs. They -reminded me of a declaration of the socialist Minister for Public -Welfare, Kunfi: “As we are going to be a smaller country, we shall not be -able to support the many officials of old Hungary. These will have to -seek their living in America.” We have come to this! The radical press of -the immigrants advocates the expulsion of the Hungarian refugees, and the -Minister of Public Welfare advises the native Hungarian intellectuals to -emigrate! - -So there is no more room for us in our own country? - -It is a wicked, devilish game. Words are used as keys to open the dark -underground passages which undermine our country. The War Minister of -Károlyi’s Government says to the Hungarian army “I never want to see a -soldier again.” The Minister for Nationalities ruins our fellow nationals -and hands them over to the yoke of foreigners. The Minister of Finance -says: “I don’t want to see a rich man; I shall impose such taxes in -Hungary as the history of the world has never known.” The Prime Minister -declares that whoever invades Hungary, we shall appeal to the judgment of -the civilised world, but we won’t draw sword against the invader. - -Just then some Transylvanian undergraduates dragged a little cart into -the middle of the garden. A Transylvanian soldier was standing on it and -he shouted out what had been discussed up in the hall. - -“We will rise to arms. We swear it by our freedom, fifteen hundred years -old!” - -An officer swore in the name of the Székler commando: “Our bodies and our -souls for the Széklers’ Independence.” - -“We have had enough war!” shouted a Budapest pacificist. He was expelled -noisily from the place. Angry cries followed him down the stairs, and -then a thousand voices shouted the curse: “May God forsake him who does -not help the Széklers in their struggle!” - -I raised my head. It seemed to me that at last the town of silently -suffering Hungarians had regained her voice, that the Széklers had given -it back to her; and the cheers, rising, gigantic, in the garden, spread -over the streets like a great, solemn oath. - - * * * * * - - _December 9th-11th._ - -A black tablet has been hung under the glass roof of the railway station -upon which the names of towns have been written with chalk: Ruttka, -Kassa, Körösmezö, Kolozsvár, Arad, Orsova, Szeged-Rókus, Pécs, Esszék. -There are no more trains for these from Budapest. Passengers wait in -vain. No more trains will come from the capital of Hungary. The nerves -are severed, the arteries are cut, life-blood is oozing slowly out of -them. Communication has ceased; tracks are covered with snow and the -signal lamps are extinguished. Silence reigns in the distant little -stations, the silence of a shudder. Who knows what may happen before -the connection is renewed? Foreign rule occupies our towns, it spreads -further and further, always nearer to the centre.... - -And as each day passes, here in the isolated heart of the country -everything is getting more and more antagonistic, dividing even those who -have the power in their hands. The proposed law of land reform has lit -a fire which shows up both extremes. Even in Károlyi’s party there is a -split. The radicals and socialists go hand in hand, and the Hungarians, -notwithstanding their miserable position, are opposed to them. - -It is said that the Government is tottering. By means of the Soldiers’ -and Workers’ Council the power of the Socialists is increasing daily and -they now claim the portfolios of War and of the Interior for themselves. -Two Jews are their candidates. They accuse Batthyány of reaction and -attack the Minister of War because he opposes the Soldiers’ Council -system, desires to diminish the socialist local guards, and recruits -peasant guards in the country. They accuse him of supporting royalist -movements and of forming officers’ corps and emergency detachments. - -The Counter-revolutionists! - -This word is now beginning to raise its head in determination to -break down any patriotic attempt, to stand in the way of every honest -endeavour. We have reached the stage when it is counter-revolution to -complain of the foreign occupations, to speak of the integrity or defence -of the country’s territory, or to say: “Let us work that we may not -starve.” - -The so-called unemployed are more powerful than those who work, and -they are many. Their leader is Béla Kún, and they have plenty of -money. Shirking work is one of the best means to-day of earning one’s -bread and it is powerfully supported by a Government which distributes -millions under the name of unemployment doles, while nobody will sweep -the streets; snow and dirt grow in piles, and the garbage rots in the -doorways. - -It happened yesterday that, after infinite pains, I managed to obtain, at -a fabulous price, a few sacks of coal. The carter who brought it threw -it down in front of the cellar-trap. When I asked him to shovel it in he -swore vilely because it was getting dark and he was not disposed to do -it. He left it there, in spite of any tip I could offer him. And so, with -the help of the little German maid, we had to do it ourselves. - -The other day I saw an officer dragging home a cart of firewood. My -sister brought potatoes home in a Gladstone bag because nobody would -carry them for her at any price. The garbage of the capital has been -removed during the last few days by some officials from the town hall; -no carter would do the job, and so these officials thought it would not -be out of the way to ‘earn,’ besides their official pay of ten to twenty -crowns a day, an extra one hundred and thirty crowns per diem. - -While this sort of thing is going on there is a huge crowd in front -of the office which pays out the unemployment dole. Lusty young men -and ne’er-do-weel domestic servants ‘spoon’ in the crowded, disorderly -queue. They get fifteen crowns daily, but are not satisfied and demand -thirty. The agitators go even further and say persistently: “Everything -is yours.” Nothing but hatred or indifference is left now in the minds of -the people. - -I went to a funeral this afternoon. We buried a young woman, a victim of -the epidemic. We couldn’t find a cab to take us to the cemetery, so we -all walked. The priest was late, as he too was unable to find a cab. The -large, cold garden of the dead was getting dark among the black cypresses -when the coffin was lowered into the grave. The grave-diggers had waited -a long time, and they became impatient and grumbled furiously. We heard -coarse words. One of them looked at his watch. “It’s too late,” he said, -“we’ll leave it till to-morrow.” So they stuck their spades into the -mound of earth, took their hats and left. Down in the open grave lay the -coffin, and the dismayed silence was broken by the fall of little clods -of earth upon it. We looked at each other helplessly; nobody dared to -speak. - -“I won’t leave her like this,” said the widower, and taking the spade in -his shaking hands he covered with earth the most precious thing that life -had given him. The lumps of earth showered noisily down on to the coffin. -For a moment we stood overawed, the whole thing seemed so terrible, then -we bent down and helped with our naked hands. - -And in the dark a heart-breaking sob raised a human protest against all -inhumanity.... - - * * * * * - - _December 12th._ - -A big red flag appeared in the streets this morning and went slowly -towards the Danube under a gray, smoky sky. Street urchins ran beside -it; the rabble rushed on like dust before the wind. The people in -the street hugged the walls of the houses and again the flag came in -sight, approaching unsteadily, followed by soldiers, at whose head an -officer rode, with drawn sword. His face struck me as if I had been hit -across the eyes by a twig. His ears projected from both sides under the -officer’s cap, and his lips formed a fleshy arc. - -The face of the leader—the face of the people and of the army. The face -of the soldiers of our war of liberation in 1848 was the face of Görgei, -of Kossuth, of Petöfi. The face of Hungary of the Great War was the sad, -resolute face of Stephen Tisza. The face of the October revolution was -Michael Károlyi.... And the face of this detachment with the red flag was -the officer heading it. - -Behind him the infantry came in irregular formation, many of the soldiers -smoking. Guns rumbled after them; two gunners sat jolting on one of the -guns, red ribbons floating from their caps. They were smoking too.... The -crowd went on. A battery of field artillery followed, and Hussars rode at -the end. One trooper signalled to a lady friend of his who was passing, -stopped his horse and had a nice, comfortable chat with her from the -saddle, then he galloped after the rest. - -Somebody said: “The whole garrison is here! They are going to Buda.” -“What for?” Nobody knew. Meanwhile the red flag was climbing up the -hillside towards the royal castle. - -The city and the other quarters of the town knew nothing of this -procession. Nobody troubled about it. The citizens of Budapest were -apathetic and indifferent, and thought no more about it than did the -bridge which suffered the procession to cross it. Men continued to live -their precarious lives and everything seemed to be the same as yesterday, -but in the afternoon came the news that this garrison had caused the -downfall of the War Minister! The Soldiers’ Council and Joseph Pogány had -ousted Albert Bartha. - -It happened in the castle, on St. George’s Square. I heard of it from -an eye-witness. The infantry stood in a row, with machine-guns and the -artillery behind them. And while threats against Bartha were shouted, the -malicious face of Joseph Pogány-Schwarz appeared in one of the windows of -the building occupied by the Soldiers’ Council. The officers on horseback -saw him and shouted his name and cheered him. Then the demonstrators -cheered Károlyi. Meanwhile a delegation of the garrison’s confidential -men, led by Dr. Mór, a reserve officer, went up to the Prime Minister and -presented him with a paper containing the demands of the garrison. - -Károlyi received the delegation in deadly fear. - -The soldiery down in the square turned their guns and machine-guns on -the War Office.... That is how they waited for an answer. As a matter of -fact most of the men did not care what happened. It was the confidential -men who told them how to come here, and what to demand, and accordingly -they came and demanded: “Let Bartha resign and be replaced by a civilian -Minister of War who will organise a democratic army. The staff-officers -must be dismissed from the War Office, and the proclamation concerning -the Soldiers’ Council and the Confidential Men, suppressed by Bartha, -must be put into execution at once. All the Minister’s special officers’ -detachments are to be disbanded.” Finally they demanded that the officers -should in future be elected by the ranks, and that rankers should be -qualified to become officers. - -In the reception-room of the Prime Minister, Károlyi addressed the -deputation, submitted, promised everything and—gave up Bartha. - -“I saw with pleasure,” he said, “the many thousands of soldiers, because -it has afforded me the evidence of my own eyes that the Hungarian -Government is not defenceless, but has a powerful army at its back.” - -As a matter of fact, at that moment the powerful army was not standing -at his back but opposite him; an army that was good for nothing but to -demonstrate in Budapest, and whose heroism was directed against his War -Office, upon which its guns were trained. - -Then the soldiers marched to the offices of the Soldiers’ Council and -Pogány addressed them in words full of vainglory: - -“This demonstration has shown that there are enough soldiers, and that -the troops are in the hands of the confidential men. It has shown,” he -shouted in rapture, “that discipline can be maintained, but only when it -is the troops themselves who maintain it....” - -“Long live Pogány, the Minister of War ...” rose the cry under the red -flag. And he, red with the effort of shouting, roared the following -threats: “We won’t allow Budapest’s social-democratic army to be -disbanded, just because it is social-democratic! We won’t tolerate the -formation of independent peasants’ detachments!” - -“Long live the socialist army! Down with the peasants’ detachments!” came -the shout back from the square. - -This morning something else was lost up there in the castle. Only a -desperate effort made by secret organisation can help us now. The army -of Hungary has passed entirely into the hands of Pogány-Schwarz, and the -soldiers, drunk with joy, are shooting in the streets. - - * * * * * - - _December 13th-15th._ - -The die was cast yesterday in the Castle, and the red flag was hoisted. - -It is now impossible to patch up the country’s misfortune. It is the -Government which has patched itself up. Albert Bartha, the patriotic -Hungarian soldier, has left, and so has Batthyány. The socialists had -intended the Ministry of the Interior for the communist Eugene Landler, -but they did not succeed in that. All the same, the victory of the -socialists is complete—they have got the War Office! For the present -Károlyi is temporary Minister of War, but it is obvious that a little -Jewish electrician, the social-democrat, William Böhm, stands behind him, -though not so long ago he was repairing the typewriters and electric -installations of the office. - -“Good, you have come at last; just repair my machine!” the girl-clerks -said to him when they saw him in the passages of the War Office. “I am -the Minister of War,” Böhm answered proudly, and sat down at Bartha’s -desk. Already he calls himself Hungary’s Minister of War. Károlyi still -masks him, but the game is obvious. When Károlyi formed his government on -the 1st of November he started with five Jewish Ministers, but as he was -afraid of public opinion he confessed to three only: Jászi, Garami and -Kunfi, while in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Diener-Dénes, and in the -Ministry of Finance Paul Szende were hidden behind his own name. - -They advance with frightful rapidity. The powers of destruction are -putting into practice with ruthless logic the pronouncement of Kunfi to -the National Assembly on the day the republic was proclaimed under the -cupola of the House of Parliament: “After the institutions we shall have -to change men; we must put into every place in this country men who are -inspired by the spirit of our new revolutionary ideas.” - -It is clear now who these are, for the military and civilian -administrations are already filled with people who used to work behind -the counters of shops or banks, or in editorial offices, and used to mock -at the unpractical Hungarian intellectuals who struggled for starvation -wages in the public offices. Now they are taking their places, getting -sudden rises in their salaries, and pursuing a racial policy such as, -alas! the Hungarian race has never been able to pursue. - -“We are wiping out a thousand years,” is their cry, and they find -fault with all the old institutions; but so far as they themselves are -concerned, no criticism is allowed. - -[Illustration: WILLIAM BÖHM. TYPEWRITER AGENT. PEOPLE’S COMMISSARY FOR -(1) HOME AFFAIRS; (2) WAR OFFICE. LATER A COMMANDER OF THE RED ARMY, AND -FINALLY ‘AMBASSADOR’ AT VIENNA. - -(_To face p. 196._)] - -“Do you know, we have now come to this,” a tradesman said to me -in his shop, looking round cautiously as he spoke, “that it is -counter-revolution to push a Galician Jew by accident in the street.” - -Now that we have retired from everything, and Hungary’s social life has -been swallowed up in the nation’s poverty and mourning, the twin-type -of the war-millionaire, the revolution-millionaire, begins to play his -part. A new kind of public invades the restaurants, the theatres and -the places of amusement: plays, written by its writers, are played to -full houses; people in gabardines occupy the stalls, while in the boxes -orthodox Jewish women in wigs chatter in Yiddish, and in the interval eat -garlic-scented sausages in the beautiful, noble foyer of the Royal Opera, -and throw greasy paper bags about. - -In the restaurants of the Ritz and Hungaria Hotels a new type of guests -eat exclusively with their knives; their mentality is shown by the fact -that the other day when a few French officers left a restaurant, they -ordered the gipsy band to play the ‘Marseillaise,’ and rose to their -feet. One of the officers turned back and said: “Sale nation....” - -Invading conquerors sometimes deprive the conquered of freedom, weapons, -and goods; but our conquerors deprive us of our honour as well. - -Every day it becomes clearer to me that we shall never be able to repel -the devastators pouring in over our frontiers till we have dealt with the -devastators in our midst, and have put them back into their place. And—if -we all work hand in hand— - -Count Stephen Bethlen wants to weld all the patriotic Hungarian parties -into one. - -We women are already great in numbers. Every day we form new camps in -different quarters of the town. I address the women, and tell them -that our fortress is a triangle, the three advanced outworks being our -country, our faith, and our family. These three outworks are threatened -by Jewish socialist-communism. Before the foe can storm the fort we must -strengthen the souls of the defenders so that the offensive may collapse. -Of all humanity, women will be the heaviest losers if the war is lost -and the communists win, for women are to be common property when once the -home is broken up, and God and country have been denied. - -The testament of Peter the Great is the programme of Panslavism. The -communist declaration of Karl Marx, the son of a rabbi, Mordechai by his -real name, is the programme of Panjudaism. If it is realised, Hungary -perishes, and human culture will follow it into its grave. We who fight -on the soil of dismembered, trampled Hungary do not fight for ourselves -alone, but for every Christian woman in the world. They know it not, and -they stretch forth no hand to help us, but look on while the nations to -which they belong ruin us. But the day may still come when we shall be -understood. - -Those who heard my words followed me, and many of them offered their -help, though at that time it was dangerous to make such an offer. I -noticed more than once that furtive steps followed me in the streets, -stopping when I stopped, and going on when I started again. They -accompanied me down dark staircases, and when I looked back from a door I -had entered, someone was standing in the dark and watching. - -The Government knows about us, the police are watching us, but in vain; -the idea goes on and spreads. Whenever I express it people recognise it -as their own. It cannot be stopped now. - - * * * * * - - _December 16th._ - -Once upon a time.... Or was it not so long ago? Was it on a winter -evening in my childhood that I heard the story that once, up there in the -Carpathians, a huge giant opened his jaws and tried to swallow the world? -We were already between his teeth, and all over the world folk said -that that was the end of us. Poor little Hungary was done for, Imperial -Austria would follow, and then it would be the turn of Germany. It seemed -as if our time had come. In the shadow of the Alps, Italy waiting for her -opportunity, drew her dagger from under her cloak, and stabbed us in the -back. Roumania was feverishly tugging at her knife. - -“Nothing can help the Central Powers now”.... The whole world said so, -and thought us easy victims. - -Then a miracle happened. It was on a certain day in May, and on that -spring morning the three allies started an attack near Gorlice. -“Mackensen, Mackensen!” they shouted in victory, and the Tsar’s Russia, -the most terrible enemy whom a people had ever encountered, fell upon us. - -Was it a long time ago? Was it in my childhood that I heard the story, -that, down in Transylvania, like an echo of Gorlice, the name of -Mackensen rose again as a cry of victory above the Hungarian and German -armies? And then, above the vast mirror of the Danube’s flood, a third -time the name of Mackensen resounded. For the third time he stood at the -head of the armies that were defending the gates of Hungary. - -Was it a long time ago? Was it so long ago that time has obliterated -its memory? It was yesterday! It was on history’s bloody page in the -world-war, while there was still hope, while our honour was still bright. - -And to-day when Mackensen came to Budapest to negotiate with Károlyi -for the repatriation of his army, the red soldiers of Pogány-Schwarz, -under the leadership of Captain Gerö-Grosz, with full knowledge of the -Government, dragged machine-guns to the railway station and trained their -muzzles on the line, while an evening paper had its Kinema operator -ready. That is how Hungary’s capital prepared for the reception of -Field-Marshal von Mackensen. - -When he looked out of his carriage window and saw the shameful spectacle -of the railway station fortified against him, his fine, sharp features -were distorted with rage. He took it in at a glance: he had been -trapped. Capt. Gerö went up to him and told him he was a prisoner. Then -he informed him that Károlyi wanted to negotiate with him and expected -him at the House of Parliament. Mackensen protested, refused to go, -and desired that Károlyi or his representative should come to the -station. Capt. Gerö informed him that any refusal on his part would have -disastrous consequences for his army. - -After fierce argument the Field-Marshal reluctantly yielded, but declared -that he would not leave his carriage till the machine-guns and the -kinematograph apparatus were removed from the station. This was conceded. -When he got out his face was white with anger and his chest heaved so -that the decorations on it shook. He walked with his head erect to the -closed car that was waiting for him. - -The meeting between him and Károlyi took place in the House of -Parliament, in the Prime Minister’s room. A German friend of mine gave me -the following account of it, received directly from the Field-Marshal’s -lips. - -Károlyi received him standing and advanced a few steps to meet him. -Behind him the social democratic secretary for War, the little Jewish -electrician, was making himself as small as possible. Mackensen remained -rigid, with both hands behind his back, glaring at the two men. He -listened without a word to Károlyi, who, putting the responsibility on -the powers of the Entente, requested him to give up all the arms of -his army in conformity with the Belgrade Armistice. The Field-Marshal -declined and said that as far as he was concerned, and according to his -instructions from Spa, the conditions of the armistice concluded on the -Western front were in force. He also declared that he would not leave -Hungary till the last man of his army was over the frontier. - -Károlyi informed him that he could not leave in any case, as he, with his -whole army, was going to be interned in Fóth. - -“I did not expect that!” said Mackensen. And hard words were spoken -between them. The Hungarian Government, however, had left itself a -loophole. At first Károlyi threatened to intern the whole army, but -at length he conceded that disarmament would be sufficient, and this -Mackensen accepted only conditionally with the consent of the German -Government. - -During the debate Károlyi stuttered more than usual, and when this -painful meeting came to an end he proffered his hand hesitatingly to -Mackensen. The Field-Marshal measured him with contempt: “I have had to -do with many people in my life, but I have never before met a man who was -so devoid of all honour as you are.” Then, with a slight nod, he turned -his back on him. And the hand of Michael Károlyi, which had already been -contemptuously ignored by the French General Franchet d’Esperay, was left -empty in the air. - -It was thus that Mackensen became a prisoner of Hungary. - -Was it a long time ago? Was it in my childhood that I heard the story -that once upon a time the shout of “Mackensen, Mackensen!” resounded -victoriously at three gates of Hungary? - - * * * * * - - _December 17th-22nd._ - -We walk in the gutter of shame between two close, high walls, whence -there is no escape and no rest. In this deadly atmosphere we sink deeper -and deeper at every turning. - -Yesterday evening was even worse than usual. It was late when I said -good-night to my mother, and I could get no sleep. Nations carry their -misfortunes in common, and that is why they can bear the worst, but the -shame which has now befallen us is so colossal that it seems to belong to -us alone. It isolates us from humanity. I had been lying motionless in -the dark for a long time and could think of nothing but how Károlyi had -sinned against us. To-morrow the whole world will know it and even our -enemies will despise us for it. - -Our enemies?... The face of a German soldier seemed to stare at me from -the dark. He was wounded; a shell had torn off both his legs. He had been -brought from Transylvania about two years ago. I had spoken to him in -the German hut at the railway station. And then there appeared another, -and, as in a mad feverish dream, they came, and came, through the dark, -pressing on in endless array, covered with blood, lame, mutilated, all -those I had met in four and a half years’ of war. One looked hard and -scornful, another reproachful, and all stared at me pitilessly, and in my -dream I could hear their moans. - -During the years of war, the German, in his infinite pride, clumsily, -coarsely, often hurt us, as he has hurt us before many times in history. -His dreams of annexations have often eliminated the possibility of -peace. His manner of waging war, the work of his diplomacy, and, above -all, the arrogance he assumed in dealing with us, were often strange to -our mind. But we recognised his greatness, his strength, his endurance -and his honour, and I am convinced that there is not a single Hungarian -in Hungary who does not repudiate, desperately and indignantly, that -which Károlyi has dared to do in our name to Mackensen. - -It was torture to lie still in bed. Why is there nobody among us who -will avenge this? Why is there nobody who will wipe off the dirt before -it dries on us? Innumerable eyes glared at me through the dark from -under German soldiers’ caps, and at last I could bear it no longer. I -lit a candle and tried to read. I took up a Hungarian book, for I felt -that at that moment it would be impossible to read a book in any other -tongue. When my mind was troubled how often had I not found solace in -Arány, Vörösmarty and Petöfi? They wept over Austrian tyranny, over the -failure of our war of liberation, but for all their sufferings those were -pleasant times compared with the present. They knew how to console the -passing sufferings of their age, and in that their age was fortunate—but -we are forsaken. In our great city of a million there is not a single -poet through whose verses we can express our sorrows, who can give voice -to our sufferings. - -Anatole France poses as a socialist, and yet throughout the whole war -he stood for the national ideals of France with the wholehearted fury -of _revanche_. Gabriele d’Annunzio, proclaimed a traitor from the -Capitol, led his nation off the right path, yet there was beauty in his -wild war-cry because it was inflamed by the love of his country and his -people. And while Anatole France and d’Annunzio sang in beautiful strains -the glory and the victory of their nation, most of the poets of Budapest -were in the cafés talking philosophy and pacifism, and more than one -among them helped forward the rebellion at the Astoria Hotel. There were -even some who proposed to the Council of Public Works that one public -square should be called after Michael Károlyi, another in commemoration -of the “battle” on the bridge, after the 31st of October, and the public -park after a socialist newspaper! Were they misled? Maybe, but where -are they now, when there can be no longer any misconception, when our -land and our people are trodden down by the crowd they have joined? If -Hungarian politicians have sunk into deplorable impotence, if there is -not a single soldier to draw his sword, why do not the poets rouse the -sleeping nation? - -I crouched at my writing-table and in my grief started to address a -letter to them. About an hour may have passed when suddenly I heard the -creaking of a door in our flat. Steps went through the drawing-room. One -was quick, the other hesitating. The dear, quaint rhythm approached and -I remembered. Thus did my mother come to me when I was a child, when I -had bad dreams, and even before she had reached my side all that was -terrifying would vanish. - -She opened the door. She could no more sleep than I could, so she sat -down in the big arm-chair near my writing-table and remained there in -silence. And I began to read to her what I had written. - -“Our war was a war of self-defence. If anybody denies it, let him look -at our frontiers north, south and east, if his tearful eyes can see so -far. The war we lost was a war of self-defence. We lost it terribly, more -terribly than fate had decreed. And now, the pain is so burning, our -sufferings are so immeasurable, that the human brain has become benumbed -and we are dropping from our hands that which we ought to hold on to. - -“Our people, with its thousand years of history, stands exhausted, -incapable of acting while the moments of grace which fate has given us -before closing the most awful chapter of our history pass by. - -“The sand is running out, and there is no hand to stay it. Where is he -who will seize the moment and shout a message to our unarmed brethren -perishing amid the bayonets of Czechs, Roumanians and Serbs? Who will -raise his voice so that it will carry beyond the walls erected by war -between the peoples of the world, and bring faith, hope and love to us -once more? Where is he? And if his voice does not carry far enough, why -in this hour of our trial have all the strings of our nation’s lute been -slackened? Why did our war produce no Petöfi, why is the burning pain of -our defeat without Arány? The strains of soft chords carry further than -the declamations of loud-voiced orators. - -“Have even the songs of our fighting bards forsaken Hungary? Have the -minstrels that remained at home all bled to death? The recital of our -sorrows should be piercing the hearts of five continents; strength and -faith should be sung to our sufferers at home, the bloodless nation -should be stirred up with wild inspiring songs, so that it may not -abandon hope. Poets are needed, poets whose voices can hold together the -Hungarian soil, poets who will teach Hungarians to help each other. - -“Let them come, I beseech them, let the poets come who still feel -Hungary’s pain as their own, for whom Hungary’s death is the death -of themselves. For Pressburg weeps above the Danube, the people of -our northern counties have lost their homes, faithful Zips calls -broken-hearted to the Great Plain. Kassa is ready to grasp Rákoczi’s -sword. Transylvania shows her martyr’s wounds while the proud Székler -shakes off his shackles and the ancient land that Hunyádi held is -breaking its heart over the disgrace of Belgrade. Who can give us a word -of comfort, who can strengthen us with faith in a better future, in this -hour of our agony, if not the poets of the nation? - -“And while I clamour in vain for them the immortals rise from their -tombs, the great army of national spirits, planting a standard round -which the millions of Hungarians should rally: a torch to guide them, a -camp-fire to rest them, and the soft flames of the hearth to comfort them -in the night of great deception. - -“While our contemporaries fail to find a voice for our sufferings, Petöfi -wanders among the ragged mutilated heroes who have returned: - - “Oh shame, oh bitter shame! Once Clio’s records told - Of fame no fairer than thy fair name’s fame; - Now thou’rt despised, and those who would of old - Cringe at thy feet, dare strike thee free and bold - Full in the face, and cover thee with shame. - Whate’er my fate, whatever its decree, - I shall forbear and suffer for thy sake; - Though God’s most bitter curse should fall on me, - Ne’er shall I rest, but goad and harass thee - Until I stir thy heart, or my heart break.” - -“Down there in the plain, Arány wandered after sunset over the -snow-covered land. He stopped at the threshold of stately manors, under -hamlets’ tiny windows, lit up by the brushwood fire from within. And it -is the soul of the plains that speaks from his lips: - - “The Nation lives and shudders as its heart - With horror feels destruction’s deadly grip....” - -“And above all, alone, like the voice of a giant choir, the voice of -Vörösmarty exclaims: - - “For come it will, for come it must - The dawn of better days, - For which this land, with pious lips - Beseeches Thee and prays.” - -“Thus speaks the past to us while the lute of the present is silent, -while innumerable, homeless Hungarians wander aimlessly in the streets -of the distracted country’s epidemic-ridden capital, whose streets are -bedizened with flags fluttering in heart-breaking irony. - -“My poor, unfortunate town, is there nobody to tell thee to put thy -begrimed flags at half-mast? Hast thou not a single minstrel to rouse -thee? Dost thou not see thy disgraced streets trodden by the fugitives of -half thy country, by foreign armies, while all around thee the country is -dismembered? - -“So let the dead come with their lyre to raise the quick, let the grave -shout into the dwellings of the living, let the past console the present. -For the songs of Hungary’s poets of the past are all our hope; for they -alone hold the promise of Hungary’s future.” - -So far had I written. In the morning I telephoned to the editor of the -_Pesti Hirlap_ and asked him if he wanted an article. It was the first -time in my life that I had had to ask for space: up till now it was the -papers who had asked me for copy. The editor accepted with thanks, so I -sent him the manuscript; but I looked in vain for it in the paper next -day, and the day after. I telephoned again. The editor was embarrassed, -he apologised and said that he regretted he was unable to publish the -article as it was not in accordance with the Government’s views. - -“Are the Government’s views so anti-patriotic then?” I asked. - -“Please don’t forget,” said the editor nervously, “that the present -situation is terribly delicate; this may be the last bourgeois -government, and goodness only knows how long it can hold its own.” - -“I hope not long. I would rather see destruction declare itself openly. -This downfall in disguise is intolerable.” - -While we were speaking I heard a curious buzzing in the telephone, as if -something were wrong with the apparatus. I wanted to speak to the editor -of another paper, but the exchange was unable to give me the connection, -though I tried for a long time. Meanwhile I sent to the _Pesti Hirlap_ -for my manuscript. - -When it came at last I took it to the editor of the Radical _Az Ujság_. -That also was a new experience, but I was determined that the article -should appear in print, and refused to give in. Again the editor received -my request courteously, and actually carried out his promise next day; -the article appeared, though in an obscure corner, and very indistinctly -set. - -Some day, when peace and quiet have returned, people will wonder how -this could have happened under a government which proclaimed the freedom -of the press, and at a time when the mouthpiece of the Social Democrats -could promise its readers over their breakfast table that “the glorious -revolution” would sweep away “bourgeois” society, and could accuse the -Hungarian race of jingoism because it would not renounce without protest -territory it had held for a thousand years—that a poor essay dealing with -Hungary’s sufferings should have had to perform such an Odyssey before -a newspaper could be found to publish it. It will perhaps seem just as -astonishing that I received in connection with it innumerable letters -of thanks, and that a friend of mine who had spent fifty-one months at -the front, and who had shown reckless courage, telephoned to me, saying: -“Tears came into our eyes when we read your article. I take off my hat to -you for having the courage to speak out.” - -And while all these people, suffering greatly, were grateful because -I said what they all felt, our foremost actress, Theresa Csillag, was -walking about the town selling the shabby newspaper and, with her -inimitable, beautiful voice, reading to the very souls of the passers-by -the appeal: “Wake up!” - -There are many of us, only we don’t know each other. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - _December 23rd-24th._ - -Everyone I have spoken to within the last few days has expressed anger -and disgust over Mackensen’s arrest. Countess Raphael Zichy told me she -met Michael Károlyi accidentally, and told him straight out what she -thought about it. - -“It was bound to happen,” he answered cynically, “the worst that can -happen now is that I shall have the reputation of having been the first -ungentlemanly prime minister of Hungary.” - -We met again in the Zichy Palace, the same group as last time. We had -intended talking about our women’s organization, but, somehow, we could -not avoid the subject of Mackensen. - -“We must write to him in the name of the women!” said I, and there was a -chorus of approval. I was entrusted with the writing of the letter, and -Prince Hohenlohe offered to translate it into German, while the others -promised to collect signatures. - -I wrote it the same night: it gave me no trouble, for it was already in -my mind. I repudiated Károlyi’s base deed, scorned it, branded it in the -name of womenkind, and asked the Field Marshal to forgive what had been -done against the will of the nation. We were helpless at present, but the -day would come when Hungary’s people would raise up a statue of him on -the rocks of the Carpathians which he had defended. - -My mother was the first to sign my sheet. Then I started for town, and in -the evening brought home with me many signatures. A message was waiting -for me at home to say that Countess Albert Apponyi was going to Fóth, -and as she too had signed the letter, she would take the message of -Hungary’s womanhood to Mackensen for Christmas. - -It was little enough, but we had no more to give. The Field Marshal -understood. He read the letter at once and was deeply moved when he -expressed his thanks. - -Thus came the eve of Holy Christmas. - -Along the pavements grimy heaps of snow were melting. Squashy black mud -covered the streets, the gas lamps flickered palely, and the shops were -closed at an early hour. The trams had stopped. The town was needy and -cold. - -When, in accordance with our yearly custom, my mother and I went to spend -the holy evening with my sister Mary, we saw armed drunken soldiers -loafing about the streets. All round us there was firing going on, and -the windows of the houses were in darkness. - -Everywhere in Hungary the windows are dark to-day, and there is shooting -among the houses of peaceful people. Only the frontiers, the dangerously -receding frontiers, are quiet under the wintry sky. Over the snow-covered -fields of Transylvania a Roumanian general is marching on Kolozsvár with -four thousand men. Yesterday his advance guards entered the town of King -Matthias Corvinus. I wept when I heard it.... - -The French Lieut.-Colonel Vyx has sent another memorandum. He has -advanced the Entente’s line of demarcation once more, and has now pushed -it beyond Pressburg, Kassa, Kolozsvár, beyond many lovely Hungarian -towns. And the Czechs and Serbians are still advancing.... - -Never has Hungary known a sadder Christmas than this one. There are no -lights on our Christmas tree, it has been turned into a gallows tree and -bound to it stands our generation, wounded more deeply than any Hungarian -generation has ever been wounded before. - - * * * * * - - _Christmas Night._ - -An icy wind was blowing when my mother and I came home through the -unfriendly streets, and volleys were being fired in the direction of -one of the barracks. We went out and came back amidst the clatter of -firearms, and between the two journeys there was the picture of my -sister’s home, the usual room, the dwarf pine tree, with spluttering, -bad candles, and, on the table, covered with white linen, the children’s -presents. They at least enjoyed it. The little boy thought that his -brother’s patched up rocking horse was new, and that everything was -lovely. Poor children of a poor age, it is as well that they don’t know -what our Christmasses were like!... A hundred candles, a noble, grand -fir tree reaching up to the ceiling. The smell of pure wax mingling with -the perfume of the fir, fresh from the Vág valley, and every wish of the -year was satisfied under that tree. Beyond that, I saw another tree, -then another, and another, many more.... Burning candles and green fir -trees carried me back into the years of the past: an avenue of shining -Christmas trees, the end of which is so far away that in the depth of -its perspective I can see myself quite small. There, far away, I was a -child, like those who now count me among the old. Then all the old folk -were still with me, the dear old ones who stand between us and death when -we start life. There are many of them, many defending rows, so that we -cannot see the end of the road.... As we advance, one after another they -disappear. My two grandmothers, my father.... One defending row after the -other has fallen out, and now only my mother and Uncle Géza, her brother, -stand in front of me.... I am coming to the front myself; like the others -before me, I am hiding the end of the road from the children who are -growing up.... - -When childhood has passed, the festivities of Christmas are always damped -by the quiet sadness of memories. And this year it is not only the past -of individuals but the past of our country, our people that haunts us. -How lovely Christmas used to be.... Hungary’s Christmas! So naturally -lovely that we did not know.... - -Christmas bells! When they called to midnight mass their clanging mingled -with the rattle of machine-guns. - - * * * * * - - _December 25th-30th._ - -In the good old times the last week of the year used to be one -uninterrupted holiday. This year it is only a horrible part of the -desperate road we have to tread. The news spreads from one to the other: -to-morrow—the day after to-morrow—on New Year’s Eve at the latest—there -is going to be great slaughter in the town. Everything one sees is cruel, -rough and repellent. I have hidden from it these last few days, and, near -my mother, in the peace of my home, once more I have had time to think. - -The Government speaks of elections, and promises this sham legal -confirmation of its power for January, as the Entente refuses to deal -with it under present conditions. Meanwhile the Social Democrats are -trying to win over the villages, so the reform of the land-laws is again -to the fore. They have always been a poisonous wound in Hungarian life, -and should have been altered, justly, soberly, many a year ago. Previous -governments have postponed it unscrupulously; the present government -wants to use it as a firebrand. Buza Barna, the Minister for Agriculture, -has promised so much land to those who want it that he wouldn’t be able -to find it even if he were to divide up all the entailed and private -estates; and he has promised it for such an early date that it is -technically impossible to deal with the matter in time. - -The intention is obvious. After the Russian pattern, they want to gain -the peaceful peasants’ adherence to their revolutionary principles. -So they promise land to everybody. This lying promise has spread with -evil results: following the example of the workers in the towns, the -agricultural labourers have now stopped work. They expect to till their -own plots in the spring, so why should they work for others now? No -autumn sowing is being done, and while the country is starving, maize, -potatoes, beetroot, swedes and vegetables worth millions remain in the -fields unharvested. Agitators visit the villages, inciting the people -against private property and landlords, and appealing to the servants and -labourers to take possession of the land. - -As the Budapest Soldiers’ Council rules over the military administration -of the government by means of its government delegates, so the Budapest -Workers’ Council lords it over the civil administration through its -Socialist ministers. The leaders of the Soldiers’ and the Workers’ -Councils are all of the foreign race, and they never tire of advancing -their intentions of spoliation, wrapped in the utopian dreams of -Bolshevism. The Workers’ Council at its last meeting in the New Town Hall -settled the fate of land reform by simply overthrowing it, by declaring -that the land was common property—that all private property must cease. -Then they settled the question of taxes in a manner that effectually -rendered any further discussion unnecessary. They proposed a hundred per -cent. tax on all property—_i.e._ confiscation. - -These declarations and propositions are spreading rapidly all over the -country and preparing the minds of the people for the second revolution, -which Zsigmond Kunfi, Lenin’s emissary, threatens us will break out if -the middle classes show resistance or dare to organise, or go so far -as to attempt to give satisfaction to the powers of the Entente, who -would prefer to deal with a middle class government rather than with -the present rulers of Bolshevist tendencies. “There is need for a new -revolution,” says he, “and it will come.” - -The Government made no provision for order, coal or food during the -Christmas holidays, but promised a new revolution instead—and it is with -this promise that the terrible year makes its exit. - - * * * * * - - _December 31st._ - -It was by accident that I went there. In front of the Maria Theresa -barracks the soldiers had erected barricades of benches and seats on the -pavement. They laid their loaded rifles on the backs of the seats, sat -there and drew a bead on everybody who approached. “Get away from here!” -they shouted. Now and then a shot rang out, but no damage was done. - -I went into a shop; it was already crowded, and people were talking -excitedly. Somebody said there was to be a communist meeting in the -barracks. Béla Kún was to come from the Francis Joseph barracks, where -he had incited the men to drive away their officers, but the soldiers -could not make up their minds. Most of them watched the proceedings from -the windows and then somebody fired a shot down into the yard, whence -the fire was returned. There was a lot of firing and Béla Kún and his -associates disappeared in the confusion. The soldiers then began to -maltreat their officers and broke into the armoury, where about four -thousand of them obtained arms. They are coming now, and are going to -occupy the streets.... - -Four thousand men! It was precisely that number of Roumanians who -occupied Kolozsvár, but there were no four thousand Hungarians to face -them. By order of the Government Lászlo Fényes had disarmed and sent away -the Székler guards. It was in vain that Fényes was beaten later on by -desperate Transylvanian fists, for four thousand Roumanians had meanwhile -torn Kolozsvár from the country.... - -I was brought back to the present by people running past the shop. -Someone shouted “The Communists are coming!” A panic followed. Everybody -rushed into the street, and the shops’ shutters were drawn down quickly -behind them. Red rags appeared on houses, and the middle of the road -became as empty as if it had been swept clean. An armed lorry passed. - -“There! That one on the right, that’s Béla Kún!” Hands pointed to a -vulgar-looking, yellow-skinned, dark-eyed, puffy-faced individual. His -hat was tilted to the nape of his neck and his overcoat was open. - -As I was going home by a round-about way I pondered on the man I had -seen. Where had I seen his face before? Suddenly I remembered. Shortly -after the October revolution a man was addressing some disabled -soldiers from the top of a garbage box near the railway station. I had -been astonished at the time to see how this ghetto-Jew, who spoke bad -Hungarian and had only lately discarded the gabardine, managed to get -a hearing. I remembered that clearly. He had a common fat face and -his eyes blinked while he preached against the existing order. His -blubbering mouth opened and closed as if he were chewing the cud. He -shouted in a hoarse, lifeless voice. He grew warm, and as he spoke he -removed his hat frequently and wiped the perspiration off his baldish -head with the palm of his dirty hand. I had wondered at the ugly foreign -people who were listened to now-a-days by our folk. People who can’t -speak Hungarian set one Hungarian against another. - -There was no doubt whatever about it. The man on the garbage box and the -man whom the people pointed out as Béla Kún were one and the same. - -I heard later what had happened in the barracks. There too Béla Kún made -a revolutionary speech. Before he started, two Jewish corporals had -attempted to prepare the soldiers, but the soldiers threatened them and -they were lucky to escape. Then Béla Kún tried to speak. The soldiers -arrested him, boxed his ears, shoved him into the lock-up and turned -the key in the door. Everybody was pleased; the soldiers cheered their -officers, and it seemed for a moment that the soldiers of the Maria -Theresa barracks would stand their ground and beat anarchy. Then Joseph -Pogány arrived in a motor car with his escort. He inquired excitedly what -had happened, cursed both officers and men, and hurried to Béla Kún. They -had a long conversation in the lock-up, then Pogány solemnly released -the Communist and drove him off in his car. Meanwhile the mutinous -soldiers from the Francis Joseph barracks arrived. It was quick work. -When Pogány’s motor started with Béla Kún in it the soldiers were already -shouting with all their might “Long live Communism!” - -In the afternoon Countess Károlyi, escorted by her husband’s secretary, -an officer called Jeszenszky, visited the barracks. In the evening it -was the talk of the town that there was going to be a mutiny, and that -the citizens were going to be massacred at night. Explosions were heard -now and then in the dark, and the rumour spread that the communists had -blown up a munition factory and the railway bridge. They were all false; -it was only the soldiers out on a spree. They fired the heavy guns, threw -hand-grenades, dragged machine-guns into the street and fired them just -to pass the time away. - -[Illustration: BELA KUN, ANNOUNCING, FROM THE STEPS OF THE HOUSE OF -PARLIAMENT, THAT THE PROLETARIAT HAS TAKEN OVER THE GOVERNMENT. - -(_To face p. 214._)] - -Midnight drew nearer amid the clatter of fire-arms. As at Christmas, we -again gathered at my sister Mary’s. The New-Year’s punch was standing -ready in long fluted glasses, and the children kept looking at the clock. - -I had a letter in my hand; it had come from the capital of Transylvania -with the last Hungarian post, behind it the barrier had crashed down. It -was just like getting news of the death of a relation during the war, -and after he had been buried receiving the last letter from his hand. My -heart bled, though I did not know, and had never seen, the writer of the -epistle. I read it out aloud: - - KOLOZSVAR, December 23rd, 1918. - - I have just read in the Sunday issue of ‘Az Ujsag’ your article - ‘Awake.’ I cannot describe what I felt when I read your - lines, and yet I feel I must write to you. Every word of your - terrible, biting truth has engraved itself upon my heart. It - is this tone, this hard, bitter language, that we need to-day; - we need it as much as a starving man needs a bit of bread, as - a drowning person needs something to cling to. That is what we - want: the proclamation of our confidence, our self-respect, - to a world in which every nation boils with patriotism while - we Hungarians, alone, proclaim internationalism, humility, - and resignation—far beyond the necessities of our miserable - condition. - - It is true: our leaders don’t feel Hungary’s death—and, what - is worse, our poets are silent as if they too were insensible - to it. I cannot thank you enough that in this backboneless, - collapsing, suicidal Hungarian world you have had courage - enough to throw it in our teeth. How many Hungarians like you - are there in the de-nationalised heart of our country, and how - many Hungarian writers besides you feel there, what we feel - here, when this evening brings us the burden of the certainty - that to-morrow, on Christmas Eve, Roumanian troops will tread - the streets of Kolozsvar? - - I write these lines from the unhappy soil of Transylvania - on the eve of the occupation of its capital. I beg of you - don’t forsake us poor Hungarians in the future. Write for - us. We welcome your lines, your writings, as prisoners in - their dungeon welcome rays of sunshine. It is possible that - politically we shall fall to pieces, that the predatory nations - who fall upon us will tear us to shreds, but the meeting of - Gyulafehervar cannot make a law, the Government Council of - Nagy Szeben has not power enough, and the Roumanian occupation - cannot bring in an army big enough to tear from our hearts that - which was written there by your pen. As long as the Hungarian - spirit lives, there is hope for our resurrection. - - I remain, etc., - - VEGVARI. - -We looked at each other. This letter came, not from a single individual, -but from Kolozsvár, from the whole of unhappy, amputated Transylvania. - -“What will there be in a year’s time? What will remain of Hungary?” Our -prophecies were gloomy indeed; the crowning mercy of hope alone remained. -Then my brother-in-law said: “They can tear us to pieces, but they’ll -never prevent us from getting together again!” - -I asked my mother what she thought. - -“It is your affair now. I shall watch you.” - -The clock struck. - - * * * * * - - _January 1st, 1919._ - -This year people dare not wish each other a happy New Year. They murmur -something, then cast their eyes down with a strange expression, as if -they were looking into an open grave. - -Kassa has been occupied by the Czechs! Under the tower of its old -cathedral, down in the crypt, Rákoczi’s skeleton hands are clenched and -he asks: “Is it for this that you brought my body back from Turkey?” -On the same day the Hungarian troops left Pressburg at the instigation -of the confidential men of the Budapest Soldiers’ Council. The local -Workers’ Council thereupon assumed control, and to-day, on New Year’s -day, the Italian Colonel Ricardo Barecca entered the town at the head of -a Czech regiment. On the bank of the Danube, beside a marble equestrian -statue of Maria Theresa, two Hungarians stand with “_Moriamur pro -rege nostro_” on their lips: did they cast their eyes down in shame, -is it only the stones that still say this in Pressburg? Meanwhile the -Government informs the country with pacificist satisfaction that: “in -order to avoid bloodshed the armed forces of the popular government have -retired everywhere.” - -During the last few weeks the life of us Hungarians has been like an -attempt to climb out of a putrid well into daylight. We have toiled -painfully upwards, we have made desperate efforts to escape the slimy -horrors of the water, but in vain. The wall of the well, like a slippery -drain, grows higher above our heads, the water rises behind us, and there -is no escape. Slimy stagnant water, beastliness, utter beastliness. - -Yesterday Mackensen was surrounded by French Spahis in the castle of -Fóth. He is now guarded like a criminal, and people are saying that -Károlyi is responsible for this. - -It is an old-established custom with us that on New-Year’s day the Prime -Minister should make a speech, retrospective and prospective. Michael -Károlyi delivered his speech this morning. He accused the past and -renounced the future, accused the old system of being responsible for -all our misfortunes, and, as the only means of salvation, proclaimed -his feeble-minded hobby: “We must seek help for Hungary’s cause in -pacificism, for in that name alone shall we conquer.... Should pacificism -fail, then I say: _finis Hungariæ_.” - -Pressburg, Kassa, Kolozsvár ... pacificism failed to save them. And the -man who said on the 31st of October: “I alone can save Hungary,” cries to -the deceived millions on New Year’s day: “_finis Hungariæ_.” - -This cowardly declaration roused me from lethargy. I felt that from the -moment when Károlyi renounced his prey, our unhappy country became our -own, our very own. If it is over for him, it must start anew for us. -Henceforth I shall work more, and more ardently. - -In the afternoon we met at my Transylvanian friend’s house. But before -I started from home various people rang me up on the telephone, and -warned me not to go out because riots were expected. Some made excuses -for non-attendance, some said they had been warned by the police, others -had received hints from Károlyi’s immediate surroundings. Though it was -scarcely four o’clock when I left home, I found that the concièrge had -already locked the front door of our house. Hardly anybody was visible -in the dead streets, shops and house-doors were all shut. The houses -looked repellingly, selfishly down on me, and I had the unpleasant -feeling that if anything happened to me not one of them would open its -door to rescue me. I felt depressed by a sense of expulsion and outlawry. -He who has never walked in the daytime through an empty town, where there -is no soul, no carriage abroad, where all the houses are shut up, has -never felt what real loneliness is. - -Only a few of us met in my friend’s room: a few women and a politician or -two, dropped in at intervals. We were all sad and depressed, and nobody -started a discussion. The only thing we decided was that our organisation -should be called the National Association of Hungarian Women. - -Before we parted my Transylvanian friend asked me what our material -resources were. I had not thought of this, so was embarrassed, and felt -rather ridiculous.... We hadn’t got a penny!... This is the result of -having an organisation presided over by someone whose creative power -is restricted to the writing-table, someone who could imagine the -possession of untold treasures when her pockets were empty. I could go -off to distant countries while sitting at home with my head between my -hands. I could create a scorching summer while the snow was falling, and -one flower was enough for me to make a spring. I could build houses and -harvest golden crops, though I possessed no land, no bricks, no garden -and no fields. - -My friend laughed and whispered: “Don’t let it out, but if you want -anything tell me.” - -When I went home the town had regained its usual aspect. The nightmare -had departed, the doors were open, the traffic had come back again into -the empty streets, and nobody could tell whence the false alarm had come, -whether the communists had meditated a rising, or Bartha’s scattered -officers’ corps had projected one. It’s just one of our daily frights. - - * * * * * - - _January 2nd-3rd._ - -Two peculiarities in the life and the manners of old people have become -clear to me lately. - -In our generation it has never mattered much who over-heard what one -said. We are accustomed to speak openly. The security in which we lived -until lately made our opinions free and gave our age its undisciplined -character. I have often noticed that my mother and people of her age -speak in lower tones than we do, and more discreetly. They were bred in -times when there was always someone unwanted listening. The spy system -of Austrian absolutism taught them to be cautious. My mother has often -remarked: “You would talk of anything before anybody.” I used to think -that this restraint was the outcome of the educational principles of a -more refined age. But since the present illegal government, afraid for -its power, has taken to watching us with spies and _agents-provocateurs_, -I have realised that the superior, reserved expression of our elders is -not merely the outcome of a more aristocratic spirit pertaining to a -world that has gone, but that it had its ultimate source in self-defence. - -In the same way another peculiarity of theirs has become plain. They -built their houses and made their furniture in a different way from ours. -When I was a child I used to love hunting for secret drawers in ancient -furniture, and concealed rooms and recesses in those cunningly built -old houses. I remember that whenever I went through the abodes of past -ages, old castles, manors and houses, I used to take a peculiar delight -in their elaborate and intricate construction. The secret hollow spaces -in the walls attracted me, and invisible cupboards—they contrasted so -strangely with the smooth lines of our modern houses. I realise now that -all this was not due to mere fancy. I realise that there is no precaution -of this sort taken in building a house which does not spring from a wish -for either attack or defence. The hidden recesses designed by the old -architects, the secret drawers in old furniture, the reticent, cautious -speech of former generations, all these were only protective against a -danger which threatened. In the last few weeks public security has grown -weaker and weaker, and the rumour has been spreading with increasing -persistence that the present spendthrift government intends to lay its -hand on all gold and silver in private possession. I often look round in -despair at the smooth walls of our house, which refuse all help. It is -not possible in these days to bury anything in the woods. The leaves have -fallen long ago, poaching soldiers are roaming about everywhere, and the -townspeople go out to steal wood all over the place. It is only in one’s -own home that one can hide anything. - -I had a look at the cellar the other day, but its concrete floor would -only yield to a pick-axe, which would make a noise, and leave tell-tale -traces. The attics are out of the question, for we have had to remove -even the few things we kept there: it is not even possible to hang the -washing in them, for there are specialists of the burglar fraternity who -operate from the roofs of Budapest. - -I spent sleepless nights pondering over the question where we should put -our silver when I brought it home; I even thought of the hollow window -frames. If we took up the parquet flooring it would give very little -space and we could put only a few things under it. - -It was my mother who solved the problem, and we decided that I should -bring the plate chest home from the bank. This was not quite as easy as -it sounds, for I didn’t dare to do it by myself. A few days before, we -had sent my sister some curtains and pictures in a hand-cart, and a small -party of soldiers had simply taken the bundle off the cart and gone off -with it. So I asked a cousin of mine to come to my help. He donned his -uniform and armed himself with a revolver, and under his martial escort I -drove through the town. Whenever soldiers or sailors approached us a lump -rose in my throat. So many dear momentoes, so many old family things were -hidden in that box—practically all our valuables were rattling in the -ramshackle old cab! - -I got home dead-tired. The day dragged to an end, and when at last -night fell and we could close the shutters without raising suspicion, -and the maids had gone to bed, we three started to hide the things. My -mother wrapped them up and then tied long strings to the handles of the -ewers and salvers. Meanwhile I hammered small nails into the top of my -bookcase, tied the strings on them and let down the salvers behind the -case, one after another. It was an excellent plan: nothing was visible, -either from above or from below: the things dangled peacefully in -mid-air. The tea-pots and ewers gave us more trouble, but there again my -mother had an idea. In the drawing-room a large mirror hung in a corner -and there was a big space behind it; so we hung the teapots and jugs by -strings from two hooks at the back of it. - -A single electric bulb lit up the gloom of the room. A chair was placed -on the stove, my cousin, in full uniform, stood on the chair, and my -mother and I handed the things, dangling from their strings, up to him. -He bent up and down as if he were decorating a Christmas tree. - -It was long after midnight when we had finished, and as I got into bed I -remembered that evening when I had seen the people in the opposite house -hiding their clothes, and I sympathised even more with them now. In fact -I approved of their action. The state requisitions clothes ostensibly for -the soldiers, but the soldiers never get them. It is just robbery, under -the guise of Socialism, like everything else nowadays: the collectors and -distributors keep anything worth keeping. Many a janitor and hall porter -appears suddenly in mackintoshes of British make, or valuable fur-coats, -and not a soul dares to say anything. The second-hand clothes shops are -full of clothes that have been commandeered. - -When it comes to commandeering the silver it will be just the same. And -as I went off to sleep I was as pleased with the spaces behind the mirror -and the book-case as a smuggler with his cave. - - * * * * * - - _January 4th._ - -There are few people in the streets to-day. I left home early, for this -morning the police came and told us that they were going to make a fresh -examination of the villa where the burglary took place. After much -running about, however, we found that the police had forgotten the whole -affair, that no inquiries had been made, and that the official papers, as -well as my own complaint, had been mislaid. That is what usually happens -nowadays. - -There is great excitement in town: the workmen are taking up a -threatening attitude towards the managements of the factories. The -Ganz engineering works were surrounded this morning by armed men, the -managers were dismissed, and new ones appointed—under the control of the -shop-stewards. - -When I reached the bottom of the hill I had to wait a long time for a -tram. Only one man was waiting besides me at the stopping-place. He wore -a checkered pork-butcher’s cap and a ragged, dirty uniform, and in his -button hole he displayed the Socialist emblem, the red man with a hammer. -The stopping-place was at a lonely spot, and I felt uncomfortable, for -the man kept on looking at me. - -I thought it as well to know with whom I had to deal. - -“Has there been an accident, that there is no car?” I asked him. - -“Maybe,” he said abruptly. And then, as if irritated by my presence, he -got angry. “We shall put things straight in no time,” said he. “We’ve -settled with the Ganz works. The trams will come next. But first of -all we’re going to socialize the state railways, and shall dismiss the -managements of all the works and yards. In the provinces we shall take -things in hand too. Béla Kún and Comrade Vág have swept the coal-mines of -Salgó Tarján.” - -“It was a sad sweep,” said I. “The result was eleven killed and about -a hundred wounded. Do you know that there was scarcely a house left -standing afterwards?” - -“The Communist workers behaved all right. It was the rabble that -plundered the town.” - -“I was told that Béla Kún set the armed workers against the unarmed -population. It is said that the miners used dynamite to blow up the town. -They took possession of the depôts, the railway station, the post office. -Roving gypsies couldn’t have done all that. It was a well organised -rising.” - -The man looked down, smacking his leggings with his cane. When he looked -up again there was hatred in his eyes. - -“It’s just as well that you gentle-folk should understand that from -now on that’s how things will be done. Everything has been yours long -enough, now let it be the people’s.” - -“Don’t you suppose that those you call gentle-folk have risen from the -people? To rise in the social scale one has to work, and it is worth -working for. Only it is not often the work of a single life, but of -several generations, till at last one reaches the goal. If from the start -there is no possibility of getting on in the world, it will mean that -industry, hard work and intelligence will be deprived of their reward. -Would you work without a prospect of a pleasanter life?” - -“No,” the man said hesitatingly. Then, as if angered by his own -back-sliding, he said rudely: “They tell a different tale in the Unions.” - -“The Jewish leaders....” - -“Well, that’s true, they are Jews, every one of them,” he admitted -grudgingly. “Whose fault is it? The gentle-folk’s, who would not mix with -us. They never troubled about us, and left us to the Jews.” - -“There you are right,” I rejoined, and he took off his cap when I got -into the tram. - -I came home feeling chilled, and met three men on the stair-case, two -soldiers and one in civilian clothes. The maid who opened the door -informed me that they had come to commandeer lodgings. - -“Did you let them in? Why did you not tell them that we already had a -certified lodger?” - -“It was no good. They pushed me aside and came in. Poor, dear old lady. -They were so rude to her. They went everywhere, looked at everything, and -told her she would not be allowed more than two rooms.” - -Naturally my mother was upset. A dentist with four children had put in -a claim for three of our rooms with the common use of the kitchen and -bathroom. If I remember rightly his name was Pollak and he had lived till -then in the ghetto. - -I flew into a rage. I had never heard of any lodgings being commandeered -for Transylvanian refugees: they are expelled, while Galician refugees of -Austrian nationality are planted in our midst. What are they afraid of? -What are they fleeing from, that they thrust their way into the homes of -Christians? - -“I’ll arrange it all, don’t you worry,” I said to my mother. “We haven’t -come to that yet....” - - * * * * * - - _January 5th._ - -It was my mother herself who took in the invitation, and the man who -brought it made her promise solemnly that she would deliver it into my -own hands alone. - -I knew what it was about, and early in the afternoon I started on my -errand. It was five o’clock before I entered the door of the house owned -by the Franciscans. Some gentlemen were on the staircase before me. We -met in the rooms of Stephen Zsembéry, a former deputy. All the leaders -and principal members of the anti-revolutionary parties were present with -the exception of Count Julius Andrássy, who had mysteriously disappeared, -and Count Apponyi, who has retired from politics. Count Stephen Bethlen -proposed the union of all parties, as the only means of saving the -country. At first he was supported, then objections were raised and—when -we broke up it was decided to meet again soon, in order to come to some -final decision. - -I was sad when I went home. On the way I remembered a story I had once -written of how an inn stood on the plain, on the great military road. -Warriors passed in great numbers, on their way to recover Buda from the -Turks. They hailed from all the corners of the earth. There were only two -Hungarians in the inn, but they could not get on with each other: they -quarrelled, came to blows, killed each other. Over their bleeding corpses -their greatest foe said happily: “That is a good job: if they had not -killed each other, we never could have got the better of them.” - -These two Hungarians have had many names in the course of the centuries. -Once they were called Ujlaki and Gara, at another time Kuruc and Labanc; -then Görgey and Kossuth, quite lately Tisza and Andrássy. And to-day our -perennial ghost seemed to have walked during our labours. - -_Æterna Hungaria_.... - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - _January 6th._ - -That ghost has been haunting us too long: it must be laid. Ever since I -met this ever-recurring cause of our nation’s defeat in the Franciscans’ -house, my language to the women has assumed a graver tone. - -Those who have allowed the country to go to rack and ruin have not -changed, and so a new future must be built up in the minds of the -children. To succeed our own much tried generation we must raise up a new -one which understands and holds in horror that bane of our nation, party -strife, born of everlasting jealousy. We must start with the children, -and see that in future no man says to his brother: “Why should it be -thine? Why not mine?” Or: “If it cannot be mine, let it be rather our -neighbour’s child than thine....” - -The women understand me. Our numbers grow more and more. - -Cold rain was falling, slanting in the wind, as I crossed the town -on foot, on my way to meet the leaders of the various organisations -of Protestant women. The streets were emptier than usual, and as I -approached the House of Parliament I began to feel rather nervous. The -friendless streets, like the lairs of cut-throats, opened darkly into -the ill-lit square. I had had enough of walking and wanted to get into a -tram, but as usually happens nowadays, especially when one is in a hurry, -the traffic had come to a standstill and no car appeared. Several people -were waiting at the stopping-place where a constable, armed with a rifle, -was standing on the edge of the pavement. I looked at my watch. The tram -was due at five and it was already a quarter past. The constable cursed: -“We might loaf here till midnight,” said he, and shifting his rifle on -his shoulder he started to walk off. - -“Can I go with you?” I asked him. The man nodded and, taking two steps to -his one, I walked along with him. “People will think you are locking me -up,” I laughed. - -“We are going away from the police-station,” he laughed back. “As a -matter of fact it is wise of you not to walk alone here. People are often -attacked. But it won’t last. The old order will be restored. We shall -soon rid the country of this Galician ministry.” He began to complain -bitterly, cursing the Government and all the various councils: “They -ought all to be hanged, every one of them.” - -“Do tell me, how did you come to join the revolution?” - -“I? A few bribed scoundrels misled us. We didn’t know what we were doing.” - -When I left him I thought that the news that the police are drifting over -to the counter-revolution must be true. It could hardly be otherwise, -seeing that they are all brave, Hungarian, country-bred lads. - -When I reached the meeting of the leading Protestant ladies I told them -that so long as the various Christian creeds were fighting separately we -should obtain nothing, but that if they joined hands they might still -save the country, and they all decided to put all self-interest aside -and to save whatever might still be saved. I felt that the unity which -political parties were trying vainly to attain did already exist in the -women’s souls. - - * * * * * - - _January 7th-10th._ - -This wretched town is continually being convulsed by riots, and between -the riots it howls and destroys, starves and robs. Its streets are -peopled with Communist demonstrators who march about under the red flag. -From the opposite direction comes a crowd of patriotic youths under -the national flag, and the two crowds go for each other, tear off each -other’s emblems and break each other’s heads. And while the crowd is -openly turbulent, astonishing things happen in secret. - -Mackensen has been surrounded by Spahis in Fóth. At dawn some French -officers entered his room, made him a prisoner, and gave him half-an-hour -in which to make his preparations, and then, before the sun rose, and -without attracting attention, took him with his escort by car to Gödöllö. -It is said that they are going to send him somewhere south. Károlyi’s -Government, although it is alleged that the arrest was made by the -Government’s request, has lodged a protest with the French. The organ of -the Freemasons, _Világ_, remarked cynically that: “in the noise of great -catastrophies the voice of little individual tragedies is lost....” Any -tragedy is individual for them when it happens to gentile races, but -whatever touches their race becomes a public calamity. - -At noon another rumour spread over the town. Balthasar Láng, one of the -props of the War Office, an old friend of mine, has been arrested. - -Better news had been reaching us for some time. Counties in the -north had begun to organise, and far from the treasonable Soldiers’ -Council, home-defence committees had been formed. The men folk of the -north-western counties had stood to arms and opposed the advancing Czechs -at Vágselye, but it had not come to a battle. As soon as the enemy heard -that armed resistance was awaiting him, he turned in his tracks and -retreated. - -Hope rose. It would have been so easy for the armed Hungarian population -to expel the intruders who refused to face a battle. Baron Láng was one -of the organisers of this plan. It is said that the president of one -of these home-defence committees, Szmrecsányi, spent the night before -his departure at Láng’s house, and that with traditional Hungarian -carelessness he left his motor waiting all night in front of the house, -so that the secret police of the Soldiers’ Council got wind of his -visit and reported the matter, and the Soldiers’ Council insisted on -action being taken. At the time, Count Alexander Festetich, Károlyi’s -brother-in-law, had been put at the head of the War Office to screen the -little Jewish electrician who really ran the show, and this weak nobleman -was obliged to have Láng arrested. He ordered him to appear before him, -and had him detained on the spot. - -It was the fate of one man only, but it affected so many.... - -The head of the Soldiers’ Council, Pogány, and the leaders of the Social -Democratic party had long ago decided the fate of any formal resistance; -they anxiously watched the organisation of measures for the country’s -defence. The Social Democrats had made it a special point that none -but they should have any armed forces at their disposal. Károlyi and -Festetich did not stand in their way in this matter, and the military -administration withdrew all arms and munitions from the contingents which -had risen patriotically in the country’s defence. The trains carrying -provisions for them were stopped by Pogány when ready to start; the -troops fed themselves for a time at their own expense; but the Soldiers’ -Council of Pest would not have this either and sent a number of its -agitators among them. - -Suddenly, discipline began to slacken among the ranks; the soldiers -dismissed their officers, raised the red flag, and withdrew without the -slightest reason and left the country open to the invading Czechs, who -became intoxicated with their easy success. After six thousand Hungarian -soldiers had surrendered in Pressburg to one of their regiments, they -crossed the Ipoly river at their ease and occupied the coal mines of -Salgo Tarján. A detachment of forty men, without firing a shot, planted -the Czech flag on the walls of the impregnable fort of Komárom.... - -These days have pierced the heart of the nation. - -Now it is reported that the Czechs will not stop at the bend of the -Danube. The only cowards of the World War, the perpetual traitors, are -preparing to occupy Budapest, and nowhere do the bayonets of Hungarian -soldiers advance, while Hungary melts away. They scatter without order, -under the influence of that terrible eastern eye, which hypnotises our -people and lures the unhappy nation to disgrace. - - * * * * * - - _January 11th._ - -The sky is dark and threatening. On the great national road which runs -from the Carpathians to the heart of the country the bayonets of Czech -soldiers are advancing on the capital, and now for the first time -Bolshevist posters have appeared on the walls of Budapest. “The Hungarian -Communist Party will hold a mass-meeting....” It was under the shadow of -these ill-omened signs that, this morning, we unfurled the flag of the -National Association of Hungarian Women. - -In a house on the bank of the Danube, in the rooms of the Christian -Socialist Party, lent for the occasion, we gathered together without -informing the police. The _élite_ of both the Catholic and the Protestant -world of women was present. Among those who attended we observed with -astonishment some of Károlyi’s closest relations, who were asking their -acquaintances why we had met and what we were driving at. Some uneasiness -was shown, and to prevent it spreading Countess Raphael Zichy took the -chair at once and opened the meeting. With a brevity which admitted of no -interruption she communicated the purpose of the association and informed -us of the agreement between the Protestant and Catholic camps. - -Consternation was visible among the relations of Károlyi. Words of -discord arose, obviously meant to destroy the unity which was a threat -against the Government. When the president called on me to speak I felt -that our cause was at stake, and heart and head alike were possessed with -the same inspiration. I forgot that I was a stranger in the world of -politics, that I had not prepared my speech, that I had never spoken at a -great public meeting before; I only knew that our cause must prevail; and -all my love for, all my despair over, our people cried out from my very -soul, in my words. - -“I see on the soil of Hungary two churches, Catholic and Protestant, and -over them the Christian sky of Hungary stretches in eternal majesty. The -soil on which they stand, the sky that is above them, are our country, -our faith. Let these form the bond between us, my sisters....” - -Till that moment I did not know what marvellous wings words possessed, -but now I was carried away by my own words, and they carried the others -with me to a point where our souls met. - -“... We cannot walk separate paths, we who seek to walk the path marked -out by Christ! Let us love one another and walk hand in hand, Christian -women! Hand in hand!” - -Eternal love and gratitude filled my heart at this moment, and my voice -had more than mere words in it: “That which has never before happened in -our country shall happen now—we, Protestant and Catholic women, shall -be united this day, we whose sole desire it is that Hungary shall be -Hungarian and Christian.” - -The objections of the ladies belonging to Károlyi’s party were lost in -the general acclamation, and the National Association of Hungarian women -emerged from the obscurity of weeks of struggle and came out into the -open as the counter-revolution of the women, in defence of their faith, -their country and their homes. - - * * * * * - - _January 12th._ - -The papers that used to be Conservative published the news of our -association and its manifesto, but made no comments on them. - -I told Joseph Vészi, the editor-in-chief of the _Pester Lloyd_, that we -were on the defensive and did not intend to attack. His sense of justice -inspired him to say: “I shall publish your appeal, and I think it is -natural that you should organise on a Christian and national basis, -because Hungary was ruined by Jews—not by _the_ Jews—but by Jews. Five -hundred Jews.... I say so, though I am a Jew myself.” - -I noted these words, not as a testimony to me, but as an admission! - -I have no doubt that there are many Jews who think the same. But surely -they do a great wrong to their own people by not branding such among them -as “black sheep,” especially at a time when they alone have the right to -speak and protest in the interest of the country. - -The Socialist press passed over the manifesto in silence. - -When I started out a wintry storm was howling over the houses. Count -Stephen Bethlen had convoked another meeting for five o’clock in the -House of the Franciscans. Up in the dark sky black clouds raced along -like fearsome witches. Only a few street lamps were alight, and the -rattling of their panes in the wind sounded as if their teeth were -chattering. The whole town was thronging to the first mass-meeting of -the communists. Above the houses the eternal flags were flapping wildly, -their green and white parts so begrimed that now only the red was showing -like a blotch of blood. In the dirty streets scraps of paper and dirt -were whirled about, and the wind almost blew people off their legs. - -When I came to the big mansion, which faces on to two streets, armed -soldiers were standing at the entrance, with red cockades on their caps. -They stared hard at me, and when I got inside I was told that there were -soldiers at the other entrance too. - -“They are watching us....” - -Count Bethlen again raised the question of unity. - -“Foreign bayonets are marching on the capital; don’t let it be said that -we couldn’t agree until we were under their very shadow.” - -Hours passed in hopeless, sterile discussion. All the time I could not -help thinking how the socialists in the Workers’ Council had by now -practically joined forces with the Communists, and that while we were -unable to come to an agreement they were probably howling in unison at -their general meeting for the destruction of our country, faith and homes. - -In all my life I was never more despondent. As a last hope I got up and -said that the Christian women had already joined together, and that we -were now all in one camp and only waiting to be able to join with the -united parties. - -“Long live the ladies!” shouted the whole room, but again nothing -happened, and the meeting dispersed without having come to any -decision—just like the time before. - -When I left, the soldiers were no longer loafing near the entrance. A -rabble crowded the streets, and an acquaintance whom I met said to me: - -“Do you see this mob? It has come from the mass-meeting, where it has -been listening to the Communists’ speeches.” - -The meeting started as a demonstration and ended by becoming the -occasion for the unfurling of the Communist banner. At the request of -Lieut.-Colonel Vyx the police had handed over nine Russian Bolshevik Jews -to the French, and they had been expelled. A part of the population of -Budapest now gets up a demonstration in favour of these nine foreigners, -though it made not the slightest protest when Károlyi delivered several -millions of Hungarians to the Czechs, Serbians and Roumanians. Jewish -officers with red cockades organised the meeting, and the people of the -ghetto were thronging there among disbanded soldiers, Galileist students, -apprentices, and crazy women. The whole place was crammed with a human -stream primed with hatred. The galleries creaked under their weight, and -in the corridors a crowded-out throng shouted furiously. - -On the platform the red phalanx of the Communist leaders surrounded Béla -Kún, who opened the meeting and spoke of the revolution of the world’s -proletariat and the counter-revolution of the capitalist order, the two -forces which, according to his materialistic views, are fighting a death -struggle in Europe to-day. He attacked the Government because it had -delivered up the red “comrades” and because it was hindering the westward -advance of the Soviet Republic. Then he referred with enthusiasm to the -struggle of the German Spartacists, speaking of them almost reverently. - -“Long live the Spartacists, we’re Spartacists too!” the soldiers shouted -frantically: “we’re all Bolsheviks!” - -“Our first duty is to arm!” shouted Béla Kún. Then he bellowed into -the hall: “Lenin makes an appeal to you through me!” At the mention of -Lenin’s name the whole gathering rose. Women applauded like furies. -“Lenin sends you this message: ‘change the war of imperialism into an -international class-war!’” - -Somebody shouted “Death to the Bourgeoisie!” and the whole hall took up -the cry. Then there was an interruption. The Red soldiery would not allow -Garbai, the Socialist leader, to speak. Béla Kún, shouting from the top -of the table, tried to make order: “If a bourgeois came to speak here, -I should be the first to say ‘throw him out of the window;’ but Comrade -Garbai has come from the other camp of the workers, with whom we have -yet to join up in our fight for freedom.” - -Comrade Garbai said something to the same effect: “The Socialists and the -Communists agree on every point: their aims and their enemies are the -same, but the time has not yet come.” - -Vágó shouted in a hoarse voice: “The Communists want no freedom of -speech, no democracy; arm the whole proletariat, disarm the bourgeoisie, -proclaim the Soviet Republic!...” - -I thought of the meeting of Hungarian gentlemen I had just left. - -The wind howled round me, the flags tore at their staffs and fluttered -wildly over the dark streets; their folds became entangled and they -struggled as if desperate hands were wrung above the people’s heads. - - * * * * * - - _January 13th._ - -I have been working the whole day long, at work that is new to me. In the -office of our Association I have been racking my brain with details of -organisation. I drew up handbills and wrote innumerable letters, though -I hate writing letters. In the evening we met in the Zichy palace and -decided that in any event we would prepare a memorandum of protest on the -part of the women, so that it should be ready when the missions of the -Entente arrived. Count Klebelsberg brought forward a draft, ready for -translation into foreign languages.... Time passed, and we started home. - -Nowadays it is rare to get a cab, and if one happens to meet one one -may well say one’s prayers before entering it. During the last spell -of darkness a soldier climbed on to the box of a cab in which were two -ladies. He and the driver were accomplices. The horses were whipped up -and the cab was driven at a mad gallop through lonely suburban streets, -towards the cemetery. Fortunately the ladies jumped out, and so escaped; -but goodness knows how that night would have ended for them if they had -not. - -Countess Zichy sent me home in her own carriage. Klebelsberg got out in -the Inner town and I drove on alone. When we reached the Rákoczi Road all -the street lamps were suddenly extinguished. The dark street gaped and -swallowed us up. - -There was shooting everywhere, and the horses became restless. I could -feel that the coachman was frightened: indeed the night seemed full of -terror. We arrived at a gallop at my house, and I saw that my mother’s -window was open. Regardless of the cold she was sitting at it waiting -for me, and now called down to the coachman: “There is a riot near the -Popular Theatre, don’t go in that direction.” - -The man thanked her for the warning, and the clatter of hoofs died away -in the opposite direction, turning so suddenly that it seemed the very -horses were aware of the danger. - - * * * * * - - _January 14th._ - -Our destiny has been decided for us in secret, in whispers within the -walls of Pest. And the houses where this whispering has been going on -have paid the penalty: their grimy fronts are branded with the mark of -the beast. The very customs and manners of the times are designed for the -masses, and obtrude themselves like prostitutes in the street. Modesty -and discretion no longer exist. It is probably for the same reason that -the world of art and letters now produces only works meant for the -masses. Epochs are known by their arts. Our age has posters—and viler, -baser posters than those of to-day, whether on paper or in the shape of -men, have never existed. - -As I stepped out into the street this morning it did me good, after all -the pasted-up horrors, to see the posters of the League for the Defence -of Territorial Integrity, showing on a red background the split-up map of -Hungary. This map showed the ancient kingdom cut up into five pieces, and -in the midst of the provinces despoiled by Czecho-Slovakia, Yugo-Slavia, -Roumania and Austria, there appeared the tiny little land that remains to -us, a land incapable of existence, the plain deprived of its forests and -its mines. And underneath, as though the crippled land, robbed of three -million Hungarian sons, were crying out, three words were printed: “No, -no, never!” - -The streets, the houses, the walls proclaimed it, and after endless -weeks I felt for the first time at home again in this town, which had -denied everything that goes to make up my faith. Is Budapest recovering -its sanity? My hope was suddenly torn to shreds. Near a bare tree of the -boulevard a well-dressed young man bent down and scooped up some mud with -his hands; then ... he walked up to the wall and flung it all over the -poster. - -The blood rushed to my head. “How dare you!” I cried. The young man -turned round. I shall never forget his face; it was drawn in Palestine -two thousand years ago. - -“What are you talking about? There’s no such thing as ‘my country,’” he -said vindictively. - -Instinctively I looked round—was there nobody to take this scoundrel by -the throat? But the passers-by went on unheeding. I don’t remember what I -said, but I don’t think I have ever felt so angry before. It was all so -humiliating. I had never realised so clearly, so frightfully, what it was -they wanted. No country! _They_ have none, so they intend that we shall -have none either. - -Are the Jews going to outlive us too, because they will not die for the -land? All my national instincts rebelled. They shall not outlive us! -Their time will come. They are only mortal, for they want a country—they -want _our_ country. The life of peoples is like the life of individuals. -They have their childhood, their youth, their manhood and their old age. -Humanity has deprived the Jewish people of the flowering time of youth -and manhood. Their race has aged unsatisfied while it has buried its -contemporaries—Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians. It has seen Athens, -Rome, and Byzantium die, though it was old when it stood at their -cradles. Without contemporaries, alone, a stranger, it has remained among -us, and it cannot yet die, for it must await its destiny. And now, even -when the nations had begun to deal kindly with it, it celebrates its -wasted flowering-time in a horrible dance of death. - -The Wandering Jew paints his face young, and indulges in orgies on the -edge of the grave. - - * * * * * - - _January 15th-27th._ - -At the corner of a street I met a couple, a girl and a man. The fair -face of the girl was familiar to me. She wore her hair after the -Bolshevik fashion and her eyes stared curiously while she talked. -Suddenly I remembered her: it was Maria Goszthonyi. She looked untidy, -her boots were down at heel, her skirt was ragged and she wore no gloves -though it was bitterly cold. Her companion had black gloves and was -dressed entirely in black, and as he had black hair too he was a most -mournful-looking object. His narrow shoulders bent forward and his back -looked humped; he hadn’t really got a hump, but his face gave one the -impression of a hunchback as well. He was remarkably pale, and only his -big, Jewish nose shone red in his face between his dark eyes. How did a -girl like this come to be in his company? - -They had passed me while I was still thinking of them and casually I -noticed the name of the street I was in, Visegrad Street. The editorial -offices of the _Red News_ were in this street and it was a hotbed of -Communists, who gathered here for their meetings. - -I had heard a lot about Maria Goszthonyi lately. She had learned Russian -within the last few years and had translated several Communist works, -and under the influence of two Jewish friends, one of them the son of a -rich banker, had professed Syndicalist principles. She had some trouble -during the war because in the hospital in which she worked as a voluntary -nurse she taught Communist doctrines to the wounded soldiers. It is -also said that during the stormy days of October she made propagandist -speeches in one of the camps of Russian prisoners. She had said one day -to a friend of mine: “We shall soon be fighting over barricades in these -streets.” Since then she had often been seen with Béla Kún at Communistic -meetings. The last time I had spoken to her she had been a mere child. -Her parents had brought her up in their castle, carefully guarded, -spoilt, and she seemed an artistically inclined, bright young girl. Her -mother is patriotic and fond of music, and the best musicians used to -stay at their house; her father runs a model farm. How could a girl like -that fall into the company of the Communists? There are epidemics of a -spiritual nature too in this world! The war itself was one epidemic, -and Bolshevism is another. There is a serious spread of the disease at -Berlin at present. Its two most violent propagators have been killed, -Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, and because the woman was the more -gifted of the two and had a greater gift for hatred, her destructive -spirit was more efficient than his. While Liebknecht organised the German -Spartacists he was the link between the revolutionary Jews of Russia and -Germany. These two combined with the criminal classes and stirred up -the Berlin rabble against the townspeople, for they wanted civil war, -and to be masters of ruined Germany. Now the rage of the mob has torn -Rosa Luxemburg to pieces, and Liebknecht, who egged on others to face -death while he hid under an assumed name, ran when his turn came to show -courage—and was shot as he ran. - -The Berlin papers said that neither of them knew the limit where -political strife ended and criminal action began, but the Hungarian -supporters of the Government wrote: “The fate of these two is perilously -like to that of the Nazarene.... This day two saints, with the halo of -martyrs, have been enshrined in the history of communism....” - -The whole existence, foundation, and teaching of communism is based on -class-hatred, which means fratricide. Christ’s teaching is love itself. -There is no bridge over the gulf separating the two. His kingdom is not -of this world, theirs is all of this world and brushes aside all that is -not of this world. They take everything, He gave everything. The Nazarene -died for them too, and now they crucify Him anew. - -At the commemorative service organised by the Communists, Béla Kún and -his comrades insulted the teachings of Christ. Foaming at the mouth, they -pointed towards the portraits of Rosa Luxemburg and Liebknecht, carried -about on poles, called on the crowd for vengeance and vomited such hatred -as has never before been heard in this town. At first Béla Kún impressed -the mob, then, all of a sudden, it turned against him. He shouted from -the platform: “We too are threatened with their fate. But we vow that -even if we are drawn and quartered we shall continue to walk along the -road on which they led.” - -Somebody in the crowd shouted: “Are you going to walk when you’ve been -drawn and quartered?” The crowd roared with laughter. It was no good -after that to shout “Comrades, don’t weep!” for nobody was weeping, and -the speech, meant to produce revolutionary fury, burst like a soap-bubble -over the people’s head. - -To-day it bursts, to-day they laugh. But on the quiet the Government -is playing the Communists’ game. A short time ago a Communist -agitator, Tibor Szamuelly, was arrested on a charge of murder. A -Lieutenant-Colonel, back from captivity, deposed that this man, who as -a prisoner of war in Russia had been one of Trotski’s confidants, had -ordered the execution of a hundred and fifty Hungarian officers because -they refused to join the Red guards. This Communist Szamuelly had not -spent three days in prison when, at the intervention of Károlyi, the -proceedings against him were quashed and he was released. - -Another chink in the screen behind which the devilish work is being -carried on. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - _January 25th-26th._ - -It almost seems as if the terrible eye of the magician who has kept the -town in bondage is beginning to lose its power. The country tied to the -stake is freeing its hands from its fetters and a great awakening is -stirring over the Plain. - -News pours in. The Roumanians have retired before the Székler bands, -and on their retreat they are robbing and destroying, but Kis-Sebes and -Bánffy-Hunyad are ours again, and they are packing up in Kolozsvár. -The Hungarian forces have appealed to the War Office for help. This -is the moment to act, for it is now easy to repel the invading foe. -Transylvanian Magyardom has declared a general strike. All officials of -state, post office, and telegraphs have stopped work, and thirty-two -thousand miners have laid down their tools in sympathy with the patriotic -movement. It is so, although the Government says that it is a victory for -Social Democracy; but in Transylvania it is not the Internationale which -is fighting, but a people patriotically defending its very existence. - -The position of the Roumanians is becoming dangerous in Transylvania and -their soldiers are beginning to desert and go home. It is as though the -breeze of a new awakening is coming from over the snow-clad mountains and -is blowing to flame the embers that have been smouldering all over the -country. - -If only the Government were to help now! But the Government won’t. It -stamps out the flames, strangles all words of patriotism and strikes the -weapons from Hungarian hands. - -The Jewish electrician, who is Minister of War, intends to leave the -Hungarians of Transylvania to their fate and denounces the patriotism of -our last reliable troops. When a detachment of the Budapest chasseurs -went to Salgó Tarján he called it the glorious army of Social Democracy, -and when the soldiers went off he said to them: “Go and defend our coal, -our water, so that we may live.” Only our coal, our water ... there is no -need to defend the country. - -Those who speak and act in our name to-day are not Hungarians. This is a -life and death struggle, a desperate fight between a people bled to death -and a race that has been allowed to breed too freely—a new kind of war. -A short time ago our defeat seemed certain: the Hungarian people made -no resistance because its faith had been killed, but now the faith has -revived. Its feeble flames had been carried quietly back into the homes -by women. And perhaps the time has come at last when the men will want to -prove their bravery to those who expect them to be brave. - - * * * * * - - _January 27th-February 3rd._ - -It is a good time for prophets just now. When life becomes unbearable and -every moment a torture, in despair men snatch at prophecies and look to -the future. Every day new prophets and prophetesses appear. Their oracles -are published by the newspapers and spread by word of mouth. Fear longs -to be alleviated. Somebody says “It is possible;” the next repeats it as -“I believe;” and with the third it becomes “I know.” The sufferers are -not content to stop there, however, but proceed to fix a time-limit for -the realisation of their predictions. At one moment they are concerned -with the impending rising of the Communists, at another with the outbreak -of the counter-revolution. - -The beginning of the Red Revolution was predicted for to-day, but it has -been postponed. Now it is fixed for the 5th of February. People comfort -each other by saying that within two hours the Spahis stationed in the -neighbourhood can be brought to town and that there is no need to be -alarmed. Others have reliable information that on the 6th or the 9th -our party will begin its long-prepared offensive. In the streets the -_agents-provocateurs_ of Pogány ask young men: “Are you thinking of the -9th of February?” then add in a whisper: “We meet to-night behind the -Museum.” And while the surface bubbles in this fashion, both we and they -are doing really serious work in the depths below. - -The young people in town are ready and so are the awakening Hungarians, -the Széklers and the Transylvanian Hungarians. Our _liaisons_ with -the countryside are established. We have weapons and determination -and are exasperated beyond endurance. But it is vital that all these -organisations should start action at the same moment, for we must not -waste our ammunition on sporadic shots; it must be a volley. One hour -must strike for all of us. - -There is great tension in the air. In Károlyi’s camp they are conscious -of our surreptitious preparations and Károlyi fears them more than the -constantly increasing agitation of the Communists. The possibilities of -our movement are more hateful to him and cause him more anxiety than the -activity of Béla Kún, although the Communists are not particular what -tools they use, and are now agitating quite openly. Here in the capital -they are making use of a curious trick. From mid-January on, their street -orators have been advising the mob not to pay any rent to the landlords -on next quarter day, i.e., February 1st. Why should they? Are not the -houses theirs? Fortunately the majority of the people kept their heads, -and only about some twenty tenants in the suburbs refused to pay rent, so -the riots and the projected Communist rising did not come off, for the -present at any rate. - -“It has failed this time,” said John Hock, the President of the National -Council, to one of my friends, “but the Red terror is bound to come in -Hungary! It will last about two years, and then the old set, whom we -kicked out in October, will have to restore order.” - -The recovery of Balassa Gyarmat from the Czechs sounded like the clatter -of a sword among the vague prophecies and uncertainties of our present -life. The sword was drawn by Aladár Huszár and George Pongrácz, and at -the cost of many heroic lives a handful of brave railwaymen, artisans, -and students, and the peasants of nine villages, drove the Czechs back -over the Ipoly. - -But this hope did not last. Under pretence of helping, Pogány rushed -down there and frustrated the progress which the Czechs had failed -to stop. After a flare-up, out goes the flame again. Hope was badly -wounded yesterday in Fehérvár too, where there was a county meeting -at the County Hall, which, at the proposal of Károlyi’s own brother, -passed a vote of lack of confidence in the present Government, demanded -the re-establishment of the King and the immediate convocation of the -old parliament. For those who were present this meant nothing but -well-intentioned waving of hats and shaking of fists, but for the -country, which was out for a real fight with the forces of destruction, -it was a tragedy; for it gave the alarm to the Government, clinging to -its ill-got illegal power. To-morrow it will be thirsting for vengeance, -and I’m afraid that the preparation of the counter-revolution will meet -with new difficulties. - -People talk bitterly of the Fehérvár incident, where the idea seems to -prevail that a counter-revolution ought to be started to the sound of -bands, with the waving of flags and the beating of the big drum. If -every remaining county of the country had convoked, secretly, however -illegally, a general assembly for the same day, and all these had -voted against the Government, then the result would not have been this -miserable fiasco. - -What has been the result? Károlyi has commissioned Joseph Pogány to -crush every attempt at a counter-revolution, the country’s Government -delegates have been dismissed, officials have had to take the oath to -the government or leave, and Károlyi’s brother has had to climb down. -Thus ends the affair so far as he is concerned, but for those who are -working at the dangerous task of drawing the whole country into the -meshes of the counter-revolution and of making its outbreak simultaneous -everywhere, the consequences are disastrous. We shall have to start -anew and build up what had been wantonly destroyed. One plan was that -the county of Jász-Nagy-Kún should proclaim a separate republic and -secede from Károlyi’s republic. This would have been the signal for the -other counties to follow, leaving Budapest to itself and refusing to -supply it with food, so that the starving town would have driven out its -degrading tyrants of its own accord. But that is impossible now. A new -way will have to be found, and the task will be heavy, for our enemies -will be on the alert. At the last meeting of the Soldiers’ Council Pogány -proclaimed: “The revolution is in danger. Let the leaders and accomplices -of the counter-revolution beware, for the well-meaning patience of -the Soldiers’ and the Workers’ masses has been exhausted. As long as -possible—patience; when necessity requires it—machine guns.” And he gave -orders to his secret police to search the houses of those implicated. - -Yesterday Countess Louis Batthyány mentioned to me that she had -written a confidential letter to her brother, Count Julius Andrássy, -in Switzerland, and my thoughts flew to this letter when I heard this -morning that houses were being searched in the town. If it were found! -A Transylvanian friend telephoned to me early this morning and said: -“I have had visitors, they will probably come to you too. You’d better -make preparations, because they’re very inquisitive; they even look up -the chimney.” Again I heard that curious buzzing sound in the telephone -which has happened lately whenever I have been called up. I myself can -never get a connection now-a-days, for though the exchange answers it -never connects me. I wrote and reported this, and an electrician came and -inspected the apparatus; apparently everything was in order, yet when I -wanted to call up somebody the same thing happened again. - -The exchange cut off the connection while my friend was speaking to me. -I did not hesitate long. I took my papers and recent correspondence and -burnt everything which could have betrayed our purpose, my friends or -myself. I often used to wonder why precious letters and documents of -certain periods had disappeared. There are many letters of Szécsényi, -Kossuth and Görgei which might well have been preserved for posterity. -And while I was burning the letters addressed to me, one by one, and -throwing their ashes into the stove so that no trace might be left -in the open fireplace, I understood why the political correspondence -of dangerous times had disappeared. There are many other details of -Hungary’s stormy past which have become clear to me now. Among other -things I understand why we have so few diaries and memoirs. For four -hundred years our noblest spirits were watched by Austrian spies; and -while in other countries innumerable hands recorded freely the lives -of their great contemporaries, with us, at the best, only the great -political declarations have been preserved. It was like this long ago, -and now it is worse still, for worse and more impudent spies are about us -now than the informers of the Austrian _regîme_. - -When I had just finished my sad task I heard the bell in the ante-room. -Then I remembered these notes. I snatched them up from my writing-table -and hid them between my books. But it was only my Transylvanian friend -arriving. Her face, always sad of late, wore a new expression. She looked -round my room: “Have they been here too?” she asked, and then began -to laugh. It was the laughter of a mischievous child who has escaped -detection. “They found nothing at my place.” she said laughing again. -“They came early in the morning, with soldiers. I was still in bed, and -they wanted to break in the door. I shouted that I was dressing and -that a revolver was lying on my table, and meanwhile I threw into a -portmanteau whatever I could think of—the list of names of the Széklers’ -National Council, the members’ list of the National Association of -Hungarian Women, and their pamphlets—and through an unguarded door -the bag disappeared from my room. I didn’t mind the police coming in -then; they searched everything—me too—but they didn’t find anything of -importance.” - -In high spirits we went to the offices of the Association, where we found -the secretary at her table, surrounded by a number of ladies. Practically -everybody whose house had been searched that morning had come there and -everybody had a different tale to tell. When they were searching Countess -Batthyány’s library a list of names fell out of a volume, a list of -the lady patronesses of a ball held some years ago. They pocketed it -promptly: it contained the names they were hunting for. - -“How about the letter to Count Andrássy?” - -“Fortunately the messenger came for it last evening. I shouldn’t have -liked them to lay their hands on that....” - -The little office was filled with the spirit of winning gamblers. We -concluded that the domiciliary visits had been a failure. I went home -with my mind at rest. But that afternoon I had another visitor, Count -Emil Dessewffy, whose house had been searched too. - -“I’m glad you got over it without trouble,” I said. - -“Yes,” said Dessewffy, “but,”—and he took his single eyeglass out of his -eye, then replaced it suddenly—“but there has been a slight misfortune. -The searchers found nothing implicating anybody. They took only one -letter—yours!” - -At first I did not know what letter he referred to. Then I remembered. -I had written to Dessewffy in connection with the women’s memorandum, -when I had been knocked off the tram and was ill, and in it I had written -about Kingship, about the crown. I had passed judgment on men and events -and had mentioned and stigmatised Károlyi, Jászi, Hock, Kunfi, Pogány -and the whole Social Democracy of Budapest, as being the protagonists -of Bolshevik world-rule. I remembered that even when I sent the letter -it occurred to me that if it fell into the wrong hands it would entail -retaliation. - -Dessewffy seemed more upset about it than I. - -“Don’t worry,” I said, “at least they will know what I think of them.” - - * * * * * - - _February 9th._ - -And they did know. - -It happened quicker than I expected. From the hands of the Police my -letter passed into those of the Socialist party’s secretariat and thence -to Joseph Pogány. I got reliable information of the whole thing—someone -came to see me this morning. He asked me never to mention his name, -and told me to be careful, as I was being watched and my telephone -conversations listened to. - -In town more and more requisitions are being made, and there have -been many arrests, among others one of the leaders of the Awakening -Hungarians, some officials of the War Office, the organisers of the armed -force of the Territorial’s Defence League, and Madame Sztankay, one -of the bravest women of the counter-revolution; all have been sent to -prison. The stone cast by the County meeting of Fehérvár has made wider -and wider rings. - -The Social Democrats are destroying with feverish haste everything that -has been built up by generations of Hungarians. Jászi has dismissed the -Rector and the Dean of the University, while Kunfi attacks the elementary -and other schools. The teaching of religion is abolished, patriotism is -banished from the schools, and the national anthem prohibited. The books -used for the teaching of history in the schools are ‘expurgated’ of -everything that entitled Hungarians to take a pride in their past, and -while this is going on the head of the Budapest communal schools informs -the teachers by circular that: “those who cannot, or will not, conform to -the spirit of these times, must take the consequences and stand aside.” -It has all been done suddenly: the events of the last few days have -urged the usurping powers to furious haste, and they are employing every -possible shift to make sure of the future—for themselves. - -Life becomes more and more difficult every day, and more and more -people are taking refuge abroad. The rich Jews have long ago sent their -treasures out of the country and have gone into safety themselves. It is -amusing and characteristic that Countess Károlyi’s pearls have emigrated -too, and it has even been said of Károlyi himself that, under the -pretence of furthering the peace negotiations, he also would like to go -to—safer climes. But the powers of the Entente informed him that they had -no wish to negotiate with him. - -The mined ground trembles—anywhere is safer than here. - -Count Ladislaus Széchenyi and his wife came to take leave of me, and -at this parting I was conscious of the fate which they were escaping -and which still hangs over me. My heart was heavy; Countess Széchenyi, -who used to be Gladys Vanderbilt, had been for years one of my dearest -friends, and now the town will seem empty without her. “I shall do -everything that is possible, out there, for Hungary....” she told me -consolingly. I knew she would, for, though she was foreign born, in the -hours of our greatest trials she was more patriotically Hungarian than -many of her companions who were Hungarian by birth. - -“God speed you, Gladys ... shall we ever meet again?” - -I got out of their carriage at a street corner and we took leave in the -street. It was raining, and I suddenly felt as if myriads of thin, cold, -slimy cobwebs were surrounding me and holding me captive, while their -carriage broke through the threads of rain and disappeared before my -eyes.... They are gone.... - -I looked out of the window, and outside the snow was now coming down in -big flakes. It is falling heavily, deep soft snow, for many, many miles -around, covering the roads which lead to happier countries. - -How I yearned for far-away things—roads, free roads, beauty, music, -peaceful nights, warm rooms!... It lasted but an instant, and then I -shook it off; I had to go to the other shore of the Danube, where, in -a dark house, behind drawn curtains, in an unwarmed room, women were -waiting for me to address them. - -Off I went, and behind me, just a step behind me, there came the new law. -From this day on, any person attempting to change the republican form of -Government is liable to fifteen years’ hard labour; the instigators and -leaders of such a movement will go to penal servitude for life. But those -who report matters in time shall go free and be duly rewarded. - -A white whirlwind swept over the frozen Danube. I went on. The road was -long ... the law followed and caught me not. - - * * * * * - - _February 10th._ - -The door of my room opened quietly, and the little German maid looked in -frightened. - -“They’ve come again. I have tried to send them away, but they won’t -go....” - -This is quite the usual thing nowadays. I jumped up from my writing-desk -and went across the cold drawing-room. There was no lamp in the -ante-room, and in the gloom I saw two soldiers and a civilian near the -door. - -“What do you want? Me? From the Housing Office? But you have been over -our flat before!” - -They refused to be denied. Fortunately my mother was out of the way -and did not meet them while they were looking over the place. When we -reached my room the civilian produced a note-book and bent over it in -the lamplight on the writing-table. For some minutes he searched for -something in his book, then turned to me suddenly with suspicion in his -eyes: - -“Is this your room?” - -“Yes.” - -“We come from the police. We must search it.” - -An unpleasant tremor went through me. - -“By what right?” I was on the point of asking, but I thought better of -it. I remembered the hidden silver. The best thing would be to show no -opposition—“After all, if those are your orders....” and I handed him -my keys. One went in this direction, another in that, and I had to keep -my eyes on the hands and pockets of all three. Meanwhile I remembered -with extraordinary rapidity everything I had forgotten to burn. In awful -anguish I thought of these notes, behind the books. What if they found -them? I was thinking so intently about this that I was afraid they might -read my face. Suppose my thoughts were to guide them!... One of the -soldiers looked into the stove and at the same moment I caught sight of -the other extracting cigarettes from a small box and stuffing them into -his pockets. The civilian sat down at the table and pulled out a drawer. - -“Do you know anything about the organisation of the counter-revolution?” - -“Yes,” I answered ... “I got it from the columns of ‘The People’s -Voice.’” (this is the Socialist’s own paper.) - -The stupid round eyes of the man stared at me and suddenly I began to -feel dangerously gay. I took heart and was almost grateful to them for -being so conveniently superficial. Why not give them all my cigarettes? -What nonsense! I pulled myself together and straightened my face. - -A bundle of letters lay on my table and the man took them up one after -the other. Then he turned the pages of a little book which mother had -been reading yesterday, Albach’s _Heilige Anklänge_. Suddenly I was -seized with disgust. I wanted to be rude. How dare these strangers touch -my things like this and obliterate the contact of beloved hands! They -come in, open the cupboards, fumble, search, and all this in “the golden -age of the people’s liberty,” just because I am Hungarian. - -When the three varlets left after searching in vain I felt hopelessly -tired. I opened the window and kept it open all the evening just to air -the room. - - * * * * * - - _February 11th-13th._ - -Even in my dreams my worries pursue me. I know it, because when I wake -with a start I find myself planning, planning, planning. Why can I never -rest in peace? - -How people’s minds alter nowadays! In October it was all dazed -depression. In November black despair. In December something that was -distantly akin to hope. Then came the period of words, I made speeches, -spreading my own fire. Later the order of the day was action. Now the -sphere is more restricted. We must do something, quickly, unanimously, -because if we don’t act they will, and all that the Hungarian politicians -do is to hold meetings, consult, think of their party, of themselves; -even in this awful storm it is impossible to create unity. Don’t they -feel how they have sinned in the past against the nation? Don’t they -realise that they owe it reparation? - -Count Stephen Bethlen’s plan, the idea of a great, national -collaboration, has suffered shipwreck after a lot of talk. Instead of -unfurling the great flag of unity the number of little flags has been -increased by one: the camp of Bethlen has been isolated from the others. - -The Hungarian people are snipping tiny flags from the three national -colours, while against them the Internationalists hoist a single flag -dipped in blood, and round us, over all our frontiers, the Czechs, -Serbians and Roumanians pour in, each united under its own single banner. - -In this great, hopeless discord, the women, be it said to their -honour, have found a bond of union, not only in the capital but in the -country-side too. The post-office refuses to forward our appeals, but -they are carried by hand by brave women, honest railway-men, and engine -drivers. Hidden in villages, terrorised towns, in hundreds and hundreds -of families, there flickers the little flame that we have lit.... - -It is this which angers and worries the usurpers. The great eastern eye -whose spell has been unable to subdue us, watches us wickedly. Wherever -we go, it follows us, spies on us, threatens us. The other day when I -was at the house of a friend, armed soldiers took possession of the -staircase, a watch was placed in her ante-room, and finally the place was -searched. - -In our home too we get a queer lot of visitors. Yesterday two soldiers -wanted to come in. The maid, whom I have forbidden to open the door to -anybody, asked them what they wanted. They enquired whether this was not -an office, and whether we had the telephone laid on. The girl answered -through the closed door that this was her ladyship Madame Tormay’s flat, -not an office. - -“There are no more ladyships,” they shouted back. The girl went away and -left them there, and for a long time they continued ringing and knocking -the door. - -This morning when I went to say good morning to my mother I found a young -Jew in uniform standing at the door of my room. We never discovered how -he got in. - -“What do you want?” I asked. - -“I have come to requisition lodgings.” - -At this I lost all control over myself. - -“Enough of that,” I exclaimed. “Clear out!” - -He looked at me rather frightened, and began to stutter. - -“There is not a day that you don’t intrude here,” I went on. “This is -our home, all that is left to us. Leave it alone!” - -He collected his papers quickly and went away. I had a presentiment -afterwards that this young man would give us trouble for having been -shown the door, so I went to my mother and told her what had happened. -She laughed and replied, “I showed one the door the other day too.” That -decided me to go to the Housing Office and to obtain, somehow or other, -protection for our house. - -After a fight I managed to get on a tram. At this time the Housing Office -under the direction of the Social Democrat Garbai had already taken up -its quarters in the House of Parliament, where the Lords used to sit. - -The beautiful marble staircase of the House of Parliament was -indescribably dirty. Its walls were besmeared with coloured pencil -scrawls, and red inscriptions defiled the columns, such as “Long live -the republic!” “Long live Social Democracy!” All their offices are like -that. Public buildings sink with incredible rapidity into this dirty -state. I have not been there myself but was told by people who have that -the royal castle, the so called national palace, is as unswept and filthy -as a railway station in the Balkans. In the small drawing-room of Maria -Theresa cigarette ends and sausage skins litter the floor. The beautiful -old stoves are nearly burst with the coal that is crammed into them, the -walls around them are stained with smoke, the valuable old tables are -covered with ink blotches, and at them our new administrators sit in -their shirt sleeves. - -I stood hesitating for a moment in the bespattered corridor of the -House of Parliament. People rushed past me, but nobody could give me -any information, so I knocked at a door haphazard and entered an untidy -office. A tall unkempt man was bending over a writing-table, a fat -one stood beside him, and there were some others lounging about. They -sent me away, so I went into the next room, and found the same type of -people, who spoke to me just as sharply and also sent me away. Corridors, -ante-rooms, offices, offices and offices again, and everywhere the same -type of face—as if they had all been cast in the same mould. - -I went on, though I now began to feel uncomfortable, and very lonely; -I felt as though I had been abandoned among these strangers. It was -only then that I realised what was happening in the public offices of -Hungary. My discomfort changed into fear, and I began to run but could -not find my way out. My head began to reel, and I staggered out into the -corridor. The stairs were opposite me, and I rushed down them and met a -commissionaire at the bottom. He was Hungarian, the only Hungarian I had -yet met in the whole place. - -“Where is the Treasury?” I asked him. I had a friend in that office, -which was the reason I was looking for it. - -The commissionaire looked at me in astonishment; I must have looked -rather queer. - -“Yes?—there?... Thank you!” and I rushed on. I passed through an -ante-room and then I found myself among friends. - -“What has happened to you? You are as white as a sheet.” - -“I got lost among the many new offices. I was sent from one room to -another, and everywhere the same faces glared at me. All the rooms of -the House of Lords are full of them. They have overrun every inch of the -House of Parliament. Our people are nowhere. Good God, are those people -in sole possession everywhere?” - -“Everywhere ...” came the gloomy answer. I buried my face in my hands, -and wept bitterly. - - * * * * * - - _February 15th-18th._ - -I have just heard the true reason why the Archduke Joseph took the oath -of allegiance to the National Council. Michael Károlyi, Count Theodore -Batthyány and Kunfi went to him, and Károlyi pledged his word that he -would hand the command of the army over to the Archduke if only he would -take the oath. At that time this would have meant the saving of the -nation: the armed forces in the hands of Archduke Joseph. The Archduke -made the sacrifice and took the oath. But those who have lied as no men -have ever lied in this world before, who have cheated the country with -the stories of their friendship with the Entente and their loyalty to -the King, who have cheated the nation and the army with their promises of -a good peace—they cheated the Archduke Joseph too. While they were taking -his oath of allegiance at the Town Hall the army which they promised him -was being shattered by Linder in front of the House of Parliament. - -All lies.... But lies are like a bridge without banks to support it, -which must break down.... - -The friend who had warned me before of impending peril came again. He -entered cautiously and looked round continually while he was speaking. - -“Look out,” he said in a whisper. “Give up all your activities, give up -this organising; you are being watched with grave suspicion. It would be -a pity if they took you. I like your books: you will still be able to go -on writing beautiful things if you take care. But you won’t if you go on -like this. There are many of us who would dig you out of a grave with -their bare hands, but _they_ will get you into one. Joseph Pogány said -yesterday ‘We will settle Cécile Tormay’s little business.’” - -I thanked him for the advice, knowing all the time that I should not -follow it. Destiny decides people’s fate when it puts patriotism into -their hearts. The more of it it gives, the harder their fate. - -In the evening I overheard from my room a curious conversation on the -telephone. Our housekeeper was telephoning to her _fiancé_, who, she -tells me, is a chauffeur. She is a good-looking woman, and in January she -left our service over a question of wages, but a short time later asked -to be taken back, although we could only raise her salary slightly. At -the time I didn’t see anything very remarkable in that; but since I have -heard this conversation over the telephone I have begun to wonder what -her reason for coming back could be. This is what she said: - -“Hello, hello, is that you? Back again? No engine trouble? Yes. In -Kiskúnhalas too!... And you took many arms, machine guns too? Did you -catch them? Officers, you say?” - -I was rather alarmed. So they had captured one of the arsenals which -the counter-revolution had established in the country. I feared for the -safety of the others. Only later did I think of ourselves. Who was this -woman’s _fiancé_? Whose chauffeur was he? My suspicions were aroused. -But the time when one can dismiss a servant is past, unless it be the -servant’s good pleasure to go. I remembered letters I had asked her to -post, which never reached their destination. I also remembered that -whenever I receive visitors she crosses the ante-room as if accidentally. -Is it accidental? I must watch her.... As I stood pondering she came and -stood in the doorway with a letter in her hand. - -“It’s very confidential,” she said, looking at me rather queerly. “The -man who brought it wanted to deliver it into your own hands only.” - -“Some beggar, I suppose” ... I replied indifferently; but I could see -that she did not believe me. - -The envelope contained an invitation. To-morrow afternoon Count Stephen -Bethlen’s party will be formed at last. - - * * * * * - - _February 19th._ - -We walked fast, in Indian file, through the rain-swept streets. From the -dilapidated gutters of the houses the water poured here and there on to -our necks. The shop windows were empty. Soaked red posters screamed from -the walls: “To-morrow afternoon we must all be in the streets.” - -“This means that we had better not,” I said when, opposite the Opera, we -got into the finest street in Budapest. The wooden pavement was full of -holes ankle-deep in water, for at night our respectable citizens fetch -wood from this pavement for their fires. - -Everything visible is bleak and shabby, and outside the town the whole -country is in the same state. The Czechs have annexed Pressburg, and -they turned the protest meeting of its inhabitants into a bath of blood. -A little boy climbed a lamp-post and tried to stick up a tiny Hungarian -flag. The Czech soldiers shot him down as if he were a sparrow, and -little paper flag and little boy fell together on the pavement. The -embittered crowd then attacked the soldiers with their bare hands; the -soldiers called for reinforcements and began a regular massacre from -street to street. When Colonel Baracca, the Italian commander of the -Czech garrison, attempted to get his men back to the barracks they broke -his head with the butts of their rifles. And as the Czechs behave in the -highlands, so do the Serbians down in the plain, and worse than both, -the Roumanians in Transylvania. They flog ladies, priests, old men, in -the open street. They hang and torture, cut gashes into the backs of -Hungarians, fill them with salt, sew the bleeding wounds up, and then -drive their victims with scourges through the streets. Meanwhile the -voluntary Székler and Hungarian battalions are appealing in vain for -help from the War Office, so that they may at least save their people. -But William Böhm and Joseph Pogány refuse it, Károlyi makes speeches on -pacificism, and Béla Kún proclaims class war in the barracks of Budapest. - -There is dynamite underground. We hear stifled explosions every day. It -was in this charged atmosphere that Count Bethlen made his declaration -concerning his party’s policy. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - _February 20th-22nd._ - -As one looks back on distant days they seem to melt into one like a row -of men moving away, and yet they passed singly and each had its own -individuality. Long ago the days smiled and were pleasant, now all that -is changed. One day stares at us, frigid, relentlessly, another turns -aside, and one feels there is mischief in its face; some of them look -back threateningly after they have passed by. - -Such are the present ones. When they have passed they still look back -at us and mumble something that sounds like “there is worse to come.” -We refuse to believe it, our common-sense revolts against the prophecy, -because our common-sense has come to the end of its power of enduring -misfortune. Even jungles come to an end, and if they do not we tear a -path through the tangle of their thorns, tread them down, and, at the -price of whatever wounds and loss of blood, regain the open country. - -The masses have lost their illusions concerning Károlyi’s republic, for -they are colder and hungrier than ever. History always reaches a turning -point when there is no more bread and misery becomes past endurance. -Logically there must be a change, and what change could there be but the -resurrection of the country? Hope, which has come to naught, must become -a reality in March.... At any rate we flatter ourselves with this belief, -so that we may find strength for life and work though the streets whisper -a different tale, nay, sometimes they shout it aloud, and last Thursday -they baptised it with blood to prove that they meant it. - -Béla Kún’s staff has called the work-shirking rabble together. One day -they stir the people up against the landlords, next day they agitate -among the disbanded soldiers to induce them to raise impossible claims; -to-day it was the turn of the unemployed. - -Potatoes are rotting in the ground and last year’s maize cannot be -gathered. There is nobody in the town to sweep the streets, to cart -the garbage, to carry a load. At the railway station starving officers -do porters’ work. The evicted officials of occupied territories hire -themselves out as labourers on farms. Meanwhile at their meetings the -Communists court the idle rabble: “You have lost your jobs in consequence -of the terrible bath of blood; the time has come to get your own back; -up, to arms!” - -So the mob went to Visegrad Street, where Béla Kún and his friends -stirred it up still more and finally provided it with arms. With wild -screams the furious crowd thereupon poured out into the boulevard, armed -women, young ruffians with hand-grenades. “Long live Communism,” rose the -shout. Somebody exclaimed: “Let’s go to the ‘People’s Voice!’” And the -crowd, which had learned from the Socialists how to sack the editorial -offices of Christian and middle-class newspapers, went on to storm the -offices of the all-powerful organ of Social Democracy. The destructive -instinct knows no bounds. The alarmed secretariat of the Socialist party -appealed for help to the police and the armed forces, but before the -sailors and the people’s guard had reached the street its pavement was -covered with blood. Fifty constables awaited the crowd in a street; shots -fired by the mob were the signals for a mad fusillade; from windows and -attics machine-guns were trained on the unfortunate police and a shower -of hand-grenades fell on the building of the ‘People’s Voice.’ It was a -well prepared battle, the first real test of the Communists’ power. - -It failed.... The Communist leaders remained in the background, and the -rabble, left to itself without guidance, abandoned the field with such -a bloody head that all desire for further fighting has gone out of it -for the present. It is said that the dead in this street battle numbered -eight, and that over a hundred injured had to be admitted to hospital. - -It was late in the evening and we could still hear wild firing going on -in the direction of the fight. Even late at night occasional rifle shots -were heard. Then came the news in Friday’s papers that at day-break the -Communist leaders had been arrested. Szamuelly’s room was found empty; -on the table lay a piece of paper and on it was written: “Dear Father, -don’t look for me; there is trouble, I must fly.” Most of the others -were captured: Béla Kún was taken in his flat, and at the prison the -policemen, infuriated by the death of their comrades, beat him within -an inch of his life, indeed he only saved it by shamming death, and the -constables left him in his cell without finishing him off. - -In consequence of the attack on the ‘People’s Voice’ the Social -Democratic party declared a general strike. All work was forbidden, the -traffic stopped in the capital’s main streets, the shop shutters put up, -and even the cafés and restaurants were closed. The town looked as if it -had gone blind; all along the streets closed grey lids covered its eyes -of glass. There was no traffic at all. All vehicles had disappeared, and -nothing but machine guns passed along the roads. At the various corners -of the boulevards soldiers lounged beside their piled rifles. - -There were processions everywhere. I met one group, advancing under a red -flag and consisting of well over a thousand people, most of them wearing -white aprons smeared with patches of blood. They swung huge axes, knives, -and choppers over their heads, and all were covered with blood. They -looked as if they had murdered half the town, and wherever they went they -shrieked: “Long live the proletarian revolution!” - -“Who are these kindly people?” I asked a hag with the face of a witch, -who was cheering them enthusiastically from the pavement. - -“The butchers’ guild,” she said proudly; “Social Democrats, every one of -them....” - -Nor were the Communists idle. Armed bands of them threatened the police -stations and prisons, supporting their demands with hand-grenades and -clamouring for the immediate release of their leaders and the delivery -into their hands of the constables who had beaten Béla Kún. - -[Illustration: “THERE WERE PROCESSIONS EVERYWHERE.” - -(_To face p. 258._)] - -Meanwhile something was going on in the dark. The tone of the Social -Democratic press has changed suddenly and now the Government threatens -the counter-revolution with more vehemence than before, asserting -that the formation of a new party by Count Stephen Bethlen is a more -sinister crime than the murderous attempts of the Communists. With a -sharp change of attitude, ‘The People’s Voice’ asks for the punishment -of the constables who ill-treated Béla Kún, and writes threateningly of -Bethlen’s party and the National Association of Hungarian Women: “Through -the one of them the men, through the other the women raise their voices, -and because the revolution has not yet made use of the gallows, they give -as shameless and impudent an accent to their appeals as if the gallows -were absolutely excluded from among the weapons of defence the revolution -might use....” - -And while the official paper of the Social Democrats writes like this, -the evening paper, _Az Est_, which for the last few months has boasted -of having been the principal agent in preparing and bringing about the -October revolution, now seeks to inspire the minds of its readers in -favour of another revolution by exciting sympathy and pity for Béla Kún. - -Every day the attitude of the Government becomes less comprehensible. -It is openly said in town that Károlyi is in communication with the -Communists. He telephoned orders that the leaders should be well cared -for in prison, and then sent messages to them through his confidants, -Landler and Jeszenszky, and made his wife pay them a visit. Countess -Michael Károlyi, accompanied by Jeszenszky who is called Károlyi’s -aide-de-camp, went to see Béla Kún in the prison to which he had been -transferred. She actually took him flowers, and saw to it herself that -the arrested Communists were provided with spring mattresses, feather -beds, blankets, good food, and tobacco. - -Károlyi, the guilty megalomaniac, becomes more and more of an enigma. He -wanted to rule; to attain power he had to ruin poor, befooled Hungary and -make an alliance with every enemy of the country. It was cruel logic, -disgraceful, but it was logic. But that he should now ally himself -with the enemies of his own power seems to indicate softening of the -brain. And this same feeble-mindedness manifests itself daily in all his -declarations and pronouncements in a more grotesque shape, in him as well -as in his wife. The stories about them become more and more extravagant. - -The other day he had a kinematograph film taken of his projected entry -into the royal castle, yet dares not have it exhibited. He had a stage -erected, red carpets were laid, lacqueys in court livery stood in a row, -and he made his state entry with his wife, assisted by some actors. -Something went wrong with the film, so they started anew and played the -whole comedy over again. - -Then there is the tale about Countess Károlyi’s attempt to play the -ministering angel. She had the royal table linen cut to pieces, and -the stiff, hard damask with the royal arms and crown on it was sent to -proletarian infants to be used as pilches! - -The other day the military band was playing in St. George’s square. It -struck up the ‘Marseillaise.’ As if by magic, a window of the Prime -Minister’s residence opened, and Countess Károlyi leaned out and waved -her hand. Then the band began to play the Hungarian national anthem; -Countess Károlyi retired at once and shut her window in a hurry. - -Receptions are organised up in the castle. Real Hungarian society, -which lives in retirement, practically in mourning, has severed all -contact with the Károlyi’s; but they have found a remedy for this. Their -receptions are reported in the newspapers, and among those mentioned as -being present are people who cut them in the street. The other day, to my -consternation, I found my own name in one of the lists, but when I tried -to protest through the press no newspaper would print my letter. - -A few days ago Károlyi gave a state dinner in honour of two Italian -gentlemen, who, as simple private individuals, had come to visit some -relations here; it surpassed everything that bad taste had ever produced. -The country is in mourning, there is no coal, and in many houses people -lack even candles and oil; yet the castle was a blaze of light. The -ministers of the republic were present with their wives, and dinner -was served in the hall where the picture of the coronation of 1867 -is hanging. The table was covered with linen bearing the monogram of -Francis Joseph, and the plates were marked with the royal crown. Thus, -in the royal castle, among the memories of kingship, on royal plate, the -so-called president of the republic entertained the astonished foreigners -who had expected to be the guests of a Hungarian nobleman and found -that they had fallen in with a ridiculous parvenu. They related their -adventures next day and carried the story back to their own country as a -huge joke. - -[Illustration: THE ROYAL CASTLE, BUDA, WITH THE STATUE OF PRINCE EUGENE -OF SAVOY. - -_Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest._ - -(_To face p. 260._)] - -The Károlyi’s have parted with everything that could support them. It -is said of them that they gave asylum to Szamuelly, the murderer of -Hungarian officers, when he escaped the other day. Michael Károlyi -started his career with lies, continued it with dishonour, and now has -landed in the mire. If he is not stopped somehow it is likely that he -will drag the whole nation down with him. - - * * * * * - - _February 23rd._ - -Past midnight. I said good-night to my mother; the street is silent, and -my room is cold. - -How often have I, at this table, imagined destinies that existed only in -the author’s mind, and while I wrote the story brought the children of -my fancy to very life! But now life is harder than the destinies which I -ever imagined, and more than once of late my real existence has seemed -to me like some fantastic tale, beheld from the outside, as though at a -distance.... - -This morning the newspapers have published a new law just passed by the -Government to oppose all attempts at a counter-revolution. It empowers -the Government to put ‘out of harm’s way’ any one who is, in their -opinion, dangerous to the achievements of the revolution or to the -popular republic. This means that anyone of us who is obnoxious in their -eyes can be arrested without any further preliminaries. - -It was about midday when my telephone, which has been mute for a long -time, raised its voice. A cousin of mine was speaking, and her voice, -though she was obviously making efforts to appear calm, was excited. - -“Knöpfler would like to speak to you. Important—Urgent.” - -“Why doesn’t he come here, then?” - -“He cannot come now. Mother-in-law keeps an eye on him. Come to us, we -will meet in the street.” - -She put the receiver down. Among ourselves we always refer to the police -as ‘mother-in-law.’ - -I wonder what has happened. What has Gömbös, the leader of the Awakening -Hungarians, to tell me? (Knöpfler is his _nom de guerre_.) I saw in -the paper yesterday that on the proposal of the Minister of War the -Government had decided that his society should be dissolved. - -I never leave home without saying good-bye to my mother. “Come home -early,” she said when I took leave. I was going to lunch with some -relations. My mother knew this, and yet she seemed anxious. - -“I needn’t go if you don’t want me to. I can make some excuse.” - -“No, you just go along,” she said, and her expression changed suddenly. -“You know, it does us old people good to be alone sometimes. Then we are -with our own contemporaries who are no more. You go along to your own -contemporaries who are still here.” - -She said this so sweetly that it made me feel as if a solitary Sunday -dinner were a treat for her. She achieved her end, I went with a lighter -heart. - -A cold wind blew down the street. My cousin and her husband came to meet -me, and a short distance behind them Gömbös followed. “We’ll go a few -steps with you,” they said, and Gömbös came to my side. - -“The cabinet council decided yesterday,” he whispered, “to intern us. -Count Bethlen, Colonel Bartha, Bishop Count Mikes, Wekerle ... and you.” - -Again I had that feeling that it did not concern me, and I listened -indifferently. - -“Károlyi is at Debrö and the warrant lies on his table waiting for his -signature. Well, what do you think of it?” - -“Nothing,” I answered, and was surprised to find how little it affected -me; “I am just thinking who will carry on in our place.” - -They went with me for a short distance and then we parted. I walked -across the town, for I wanted to be alone and think: I had to make plans -and arrange my affairs for all eventualities. A thousand questions -crowded into my mind, and yet I found no time to take any decision, -because I was thinking all the while of my mother, and of her only. - -When I told my hosts, over the coffee, the news I had just received, -their faces seemed to reflect the danger that stood behind me. - -Evening was drawing in when I reached home. As I stepped into the -ante-room the telephone bell rang, and when I answered it a friend spoke -to me in the secretive way that has now become habitual. - -“The dressmaker has come with the new fashion papers. She is going -straight to you, please don’t leave home until you have seen her.” - -A few minutes later her husband arrived. He had heard it at his club.... - -“You will probably be arrested to-night. What are your plans? Your -friends, I understand, don’t want to escape.” - -“I shall stay too,” I said, and thanked him for his kindness. Meanwhile, -my brother Géza had arrived, then a friend and his wife, and finally -Gömbös. - -It was now nearly ten o’clock. My mother called me: supper had been -waiting on the table for a long while. The others had already supped, -so I left them and joined my mother. I ate rapidly, and she watched me -closely. - -“What is going on here? Why have they come? Is anything wrong? Don’t hide -things from me.” - -I tried to reassure her, though I saw clearly she did not believe me. She -sighed. “Well, go along to your friends, but don’t keep them too late.” - -Soon they rose to go with the exception of Gömbös. - -“It has been decided by the others,” he said, “that none of you will -flee. They only send me.... I shall help from abroad.” - -We fixed up everything. Gömbös rose, took his society’s badge from his -button-hole: an oak wreath on white ground with ‘For the honour of our -country’ on it, and handed it to me. “Take this as a souvenir, nobody has -a better right to wear it than you.” - -“God bless you; if we live I am sure we shall hear of you,” I said at the -door. - -They left me and I heard the street door shut. I wondered whether anyone -was lying in wait for him, down there in the dark, and listened for a -time at the window, but the steps went undisturbed down the street. - -I went to my mother. I don’t remember ever having seen her so excited. -“Now why don’t you tell me?” she cried. “I know that something has -happened.” - -“Gömbös came to take leave; he is flying the country.” - -I changed the subject as soon as possible. We chatted a long time and by -and by she calmed down. Or did she only pretend, for my sake? No, she -never showed anything but what she felt. - -Slowly the clocks struck midnight. And here I am sitting at my -writing-table and, instead of imagining destinies, am occupied by my own. -Who knows whether I shall still be free to write to-morrow what I leave -unwritten to-day? - -I packed the most necessary things into a small valise. Again the clocks -struck: they are knocking at the gate of the morrow. - - * * * * * - - _February 24th._ - -The news of the internments has spread all over the town. I was afraid -my mother might hear from someone else what was in store for me, so I -decided to tell her myself. She is not one of those whom one has to -prepare for bad news. When I told her, she went a little pale, and, for -a time, held her head up more rigidly than usual. But her self-control -never left her and she remained composed. She blamed nobody and did not -reproach me for causing her this sorrow. - -“You did your duty, my dear; I never expected anything else from you.” -More approval than this she had rarely expressed. - -I remained at home the whole afternoon, sitting with my mother, and we -talked of times when things were so very different from what they are -now. If the bell rang, if the door opened or steps approached, I felt my -heart leap. In the afternoon a motor car stopped in front of the house. -For a time it throbbed under our window.... Had it come for me? - -We have come to this, that in Hungary to-day those who dare to confess to -being Hungarians are tracked down like game. In the Highlands it is the -Czechs, in Transylvania the Roumanians, in the South the Serbians, and in -the territory that remains to us it is the Government who persecutes the -Hungarians. - -The bell.... Nothing, only a letter. Those who have never tried it cannot -imagine what it feels like to have ceased to be master of one’s freedom -and to be waiting for strangers to carry one off to prison. - -I spent the evening with my mother and, as of old, I followed her if -she went from one room to another: I did not budge from her side. After -supper I showed her a packet of letters which I wanted her to hide among -her own things, so that they might not be found if there was another -search. The letters had nothing to do with politics: they were old, -far-away letters which one never reads again yet does not like to burn, -because it is comforting to know that they still exist—dead letters of -past springs. I should have been horrified if rough strange hands had -touched them. - -“Put them there,” my mother said and pointed to the glass case with the -green curtains. As I pushed the little packet in at the back of the -highest shelf I noticed a big box with a paper label on it. Written on it -in her clear handwriting was “Objects from the old china-cabinet.” - -“May I have a look at these?” I said. She nodded. - -It was as though I had received all the desires and forbidden toys of my -childhood; I pressed the box against me. Then we put our heads together -over the table, in the light of the shaded lamp.... Suddenly the high -white, folding doors of the old house where I had spent my childhood -opened quietly, mysteriously, one after the other, and as by sweet magic -I saw again the old room of long ago and the china cabinet near the -white fire-place, under the old picture in the gilt frame.... - -Slowly and carefully we unwrapped the little objects that had slept so -long in their tissue paper. My mother had packed them away when we had -come here and when there was no room in the smaller china cabinet of our -diminished dwelling. Since then I had never seen the treasures of my -childhood, and as the years went by they lay enshrined and undisturbed in -my memory. - -The tiny Marquis de Saxe held up his white bewigged head; there was my -great-grandfather’s snuff box, which could play a tinkling little tune; -the Empire lamp in pseudo-Greek style, and a long-necked scent bottle, -which to this very day contained the ghost of a perfume of long ago. -There was the old Parisian card-case in the silky glory of the Second -Empire, the century-old miniature writing-table of mother-of-pearl and -the bucket of the same material with a tiny landscape painted on it. In -a separate paper were souvenirs of dinners at Francis Joseph’s court: -petrified sweets, with Queen Elizabeth and her fan stuck on them, the old -King when he was still young, Archduke Rudolph with Stephanie’s fair head -at his side. Among other things there was a little carriage, standing on -a silken cushion and containing golden flagons and bunches of grapes. -Next I found the gold filigree butterfly. Then there came a little -porcelain group of marvellous beauty: on a little toilet-table sat a tiny -monkey who was looking into the looking-glass; behind him stood a group -of laughing rococo ladies, and their whispering heads were reflected in -the mirror too. - -Suddenly I instinctively put my hands behind my back. - -“Do you remember, mother? We always had to put our hands behind our backs -when we looked at this.” We began to laugh, both of us, and at that -moment there was nothing else in this whole wide world that mattered. -And through the open white doors I saw myself, a mischievous fair child, -on tip-toe, looking up with religious awe, and I saw my beautiful young -mother, with the porcelain monkey-group in her hand. - -“Do you remember?...” And memory kindly took us back to happy, quiet -times. My mother said: “I brought this from Paris in ’61, this was -given me by my mother, the pair of this one was bought by the Empress -Eugénie....” At the bottom of the box there was a little packet. And -there, at the very end I found again my forgotten love: a lady in a -yellow dress, my favourite bit of china. But I was disappointed with -it now. It had no mark and its origin was unknown. It was curious that -in childhood’s days she seemed to have been much more beautiful in her -yellow, china crinoline. She stood on the spread edges of her crinoline -and for that reason she had no need of feet. Her hair was brown and her -waist ridiculously slender. - -While I was looking at her, steps resounded in the quiet street and -stopped in front of the house. Then the front door bell rang. That sound -dispersed all the magic that had surrounded us. The picture of childhood -fell in ruins and the folding doors of the old house shut one after the -other. - -My mother’s hand remained on the table. She sat motionless in the green -armchair and turned her head back a little as if listening. We did not -speak a word, yet knew that we were thinking of the same thing. The -silence was so absolute that we could hear the steps of the concièrge -going towards the door. The key turned. There was talking down below. And -then we could hear the steps coming up the stairs. Would they stop at the -first floor for us, or would they go on? We held our breath to hear the -better. - -The steps went on. - -My mother’s rigid attitude relaxed, and she leant back in the arm-chair. -“What can the time be?” she said after a while. I was packing away the -treasures of the old china cabinet, one after the other. Should we ever -see them again? They might be smashed, they might be carried off. I took -leave of them, one by one. Nowadays one is for ever taking leave.... - - * * * * * - - _February 25th._ - -What are they waiting for? The night has passed, so has the day, and I -am still free. Nobody has been arrested yet. Pogány insisted on the -arrests being made, and Böhm proposed them to the cabinet council, which -accepted the proposal unanimously. The fate of the arrested Communists -was settled unanimously too. They were to be detained only for the sake -of appearances, not to protect the town from them, but to protect them -from the vengeance of the police. - -Since Baron Arco’s bullet laid low Kurt Eisner, the Jewish tyrant of -Bavaria, the Government has been getting more and more nervous. Since the -Soldiers’ and Workers’ Council in Munich decided for the Dictatorship -of the proletariat, the Communists party here is getting more audacious -every day. Red news comes from Berlin, from Saxony, and, like a distant -earthquake, it shakes our town. - -Notwithstanding the request of the Entente, the date of the elections -for the National Assembly has again been postponed. Perhaps in March, or -in April.... If it’s delayed so far the fight will be hard. The party at -present in power is employing unheard-of stratagems. The achievements of -the revolution: freedom of the press, freedom of thought and of opinions, -freedom of association and meeting, all these exist only for them. Our -opinion has no longer a press. One newspaper dared to raise the question -of shirking work, and the gigantic amount paid out in unemployment doles; -the Communists demolished its offices. Then came the turn of another -which had attacked Hatvany’s book, the chronicle of their revolution. -Others followed, and the plant of their printers was wrecked too. - -The same sinister spirit which directed destruction fell like a -strangling nightmare on the mind and brain of the press. Even -journalists, whose patriotic feelings were opposed to it, were forced -to join a Trade-Union. By means of the Trade-Union, three Jews became -the dictators of the written word. All the well-disposed papers and -printers were silenced, and the Hungarian spirit was banished from the -journalists’ club. When the Markgrave Pallavicini tried to make a breach -in the Communist and Social Democratic stronghold by purchasing an -existing paper, the terror had already reached such a pitch that Fényes -turned up with his armed sailors to prevent him from taking possession -of it. After this it was obvious that abolition of the freedom of the -press was being achieved with the aid of the same Government which had -crushed the freedom of assembly by means of Red soldiers, and the freedom -of opinions by the means of the ‘popular law’ of internments. We are not -even allowed to assemble: our meetings are broken up by the same Red -soldiers who demolish the editorial offices. And yet the Socialists dare -not appeal to the country, for who knows what answer it might give? - -They promised to bring the country happiness. Hungary has never been -unhappier than now. Public opinion in the Provinces has lately turned -entirely against them. They had to do something, so they produced the -mirage of land distribution; and Károlyi, who had previously taken up -a mortgage of several millions on his property, went out with a noisy -following to his estate at Debrö and, before a kinematograph camera, -received the claims of tenants on the land which was laden with debts -and did not really belong to him any longer. An old peasant was elected -to present his claim first: an old servant of the Károlyi estate. In -a lofty speech Károlyi sang his own praise. The old peasant answered. -Unfortunately he was not allowed to say what he wanted to: he had been -carefully coached, but even so he made a slight slip in his address. -“I have served the Károlyi family to the third degeneration....” They -stopped him then. The Social Democrats sent their delegates to this -theatrical distribution of land. They feel that if they don’t succeed in -fooling the level-headed agricultural population of Hungary they will -lose the election. In many villages the Social Democratic agitators are -driven away with broken heads. It is the women who enrage the people -against them: “Blasphemers, _sans patrie_!” - -But a thing like that does not embarrass the Social Democrats: they -adopt a disguised programme for the rural districts. Since one of the -leaders of the broken-up small-holders party, Stephen Szabó of Nagyatád, -has joined the Károlyi government in Budapest the Socialist propaganda -has appropriated the patriotic and religious mottoes of that party. The -Red Jewish agitators, before addressing the people, kneel down on the -platform, make the sign of the cross and pretend to say their prayers. -Then they start like this: “Praised be the Lord Jesus Christ, we too, -Social Democrats, believe in the all-powerful God....” - -Notwithstanding the threats of the new ‘popular law’ the various -Protestant and Catholic women’s organisations bravely carry on their -work. The National Association had a meeting this morning. The whole -committee was present, not one was missing; it seemed like a deliberate -demonstration. These women can be great and noble. Is this to be our last -meeting? - -“If anything happened,” I said, “and I were prevented from coming again, -I should ask Elizabeth Kállay to take my place. If her turn comes, and -she cannot be here any longer, let someone else take her place, and so -on. The links of the chain must not be broken.” - -There was stern resolution in our dark, insignificant little office. - -Countess Raphael Zichy looked at me while she addressed the others: -“There is one among us whom the Government wants to arrest. Let us decide -that if this should happen, we shall go, with a hundred thousand women, -up to the castle and claim to be arrested too, because we have all done -what she has done.” - -She was not laughing now. And in all the weary journey of this wintry -world I have never been given anything more precious. - - * * * * * - - _February 26th._ - -Early this morning the door bell rang. Steps tramped about the ante-room. -A little later the little German maid came in. - -“Two soldiers were looking for you, and asked if you were in town. They -had an urgent message. I told them you were in town but had gone out.” - -As she spoke I knew that they had come to find out if I had escaped. It -is quite the custom nowadays; they ring, inquire, and go. They follow me -in the streets, and sometimes even walk behind me up the stairs. - -[Illustration: COUNT KÁROLYI DISTRIBUTING HIS LANDS AT DEBRO. - -(_To face p. 270._)] - -It makes one feel like a cornered quarry. I’m beginning to wish that -something would happen. If it has to be, let them arrest me; but this -underhand spying gets on one’s nerves. It is reported in town that I have -already been arrested. The telephone bell is continually ringing—friends -inquiring if I am still at home. - -Later Count Bethlen came to tell me that the internments had been -suspended after Szurmay, the former Minister of Defence, and Szterényi, -the former Minister of Commerce, had been arrested. They went for them -after midnight, arrested them and took them somewhere on the right bank -of the Danube. - -In the evening my mother and I played Patience. It is about the only -old-time custom that is left to us now. To-morrow I shall have one more -day at home.... As for the day after—but in these times that is such a -distant date that one dares not think of it if one wants to live. - - * * * * * - - _February 27th._ - -Bishop Count Mikes has been arrested: his diocese waits for him in vain. -Once there was an Archbishop down there in Kalocsa for whom the faithful -in the Cathedral waited in vain too, when the time came for Mass. He had -girded on his sword, had gone to do battle for Hungary, and had perished -with his six bishops on the fields of Mohács. But his spirit is not dead. -It has appeared now and then in the history of Hungary, and to-day it is -here again. Its name to-day is John Mikes. - -Some of us who went to the Association this morning spoke of him. -Suddenly the news came that Communist soldiers had run amok in the -neighbouring street and were coming to break up the women’s meeting. - -“Let’s go,” somebody suggested. - -“I stay!” And three others stayed with me to see it through. To save our -rings and watches we handed them to one of those who left. There were -shouts in the street. People were running about in the house. Then the -noise subsided and the visit of the Reds did not come off. - -In the afternoon I went to see the daughter of General Türr, the -Hungarian who had been Garibaldi’s right-hand man and one of the heroes -of Italy’s fight for freedom. It was rather a shock to see an Italian -officer there, his chest covered with decorations. Where had he got them? -I thought of the Hungarian dead at Doberdo and San Michele. And I also -remembered that the Czechs were at present using Italian rifles to beat -out the brains of Hungarian peasants in Upper Hungary. - -When the commander of the American troops landed in France he shouted: -“_Nous voilá, Lafayette!_”... When the Italian general who is leading -the Czechs over the defenceless Carpathians stepped on Hungarian soil I -wonder if he said, “_Nous voilá, Tüköry ... nous voilá, Türr!..._” - -My hand twitched when I gave it to Italy’s soldier. And yet this stranger -seemed a sympathetic, well-intentioned man. And Italy once was my second -home, dear good friends of my youth live there and the fate of our two -peoples has often taken a common road. We must forget, but it is still -very hard. - -We tried to inform Signora Türr of the situation, but Károlyi’s ministers -had preceded us. They had betrayed themselves. Signora Türr spoke of -them with the greatest contempt and promised to inform her government -of the country’s desperate plight. “Why, what you have got here amounts -practically to Bolshevism....” Practically! - - * * * * * - - _February 28th._ - -It seemed quite unusual to have been in society again, without any -serious cause or purpose, for nothing special, just as we used to in old -times. Countess Mikes gave a tea party in honour of Stephanie Türr. - -Loafing soldiers on the look-out gathered round the entrance when we -arrived. Where are the old times? Where are the homes that knew no care? -Electric lights dimmed in silken shades, the dainty lines of beautiful -dresses, Paris scents, the smoke of Egyptian cigarettes; flowers, a -shower of flowers——. - -Now there are last Spring’s dresses, dim light, scanty heating, -cigarettes of a coarse tobacco. Scents exist no more, and in a -wide-necked vase three miserable, sad flowers. Hungarian society no -longer has a social life. Those who can amuse themselves in these times -are not Hungarians. Salons are dead, they have become the meeting-place -of embittered conspirators where people talk to each other and then look -anxiously behind them. Practically every Hungarian house is spied upon by -its own servants. We know it but cannot remedy it. - -Everything has changed, even conversation. In former times it turned -on human interests, music, theatres, books, distant towns, foreign -countries, acquaintances. Now we ask each other “What was it like -in jail? Have they searched your house yet? I thought you had been -arrested.” And if somebody says “I’m glad to see you” it has a different -meaning from what it used to have. Count Albert Apponyi passed smiling -and came up and shook my hands warmly. “So you are still free!...” - -I met Stephanie Türr once more before she left, and talked to her in the -hall of the Hotel Bristol. She gave me a solemn promise; she will try to -help us when she gets home. The Italian officer who had been given her as -an escort for her personal safety, said nervously: - -“Signora, you are watched. There are detectives here.” Then he spoke -so low that I could hardly hear him. “_E pericoloso_,” and he winked -and nodded to me. “Be careful, we can leave, but those unfortunates who -remain here are playing with their lives.” - -I felt as if there were only two kinds of humanity in the world: those -who are happy and those who are unfortunate. And these foreigners look -upon us as if they were looking, half in pity, half in curiosity, through -the grating of a mortuary. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - _March 1st-5th._ - -Winter is still with us, but the winds bring signs of awakening from -afar. March ... the month of fevers and commotions. On the earth fatigue -and restlessness chase each other. Flooded rivers race along. There is no -visible sign of it, yet spring is there somewhere over the horizon. - -Whose spring is this to be? Ours or theirs? Signs of evil omen prophesy -against us. The monster, raised from the dark by Károlyi’s party in -October, shows its head daily more boldly and now grips the city with -innumerable tentacles. Its suckers pierce the flesh of Budapest, and -where they fasten themselves the streets become convulsed, and, like -blood, red flags trickle out of the houses. - -The Galileists openly avowed at their last meeting that they are -Communists. At the instigation of Maria Goszthonyi and a Jewish Communist -woman the Socialist women demonstrated in the Old House of Commons -against the religious and patriotic spirit in the schools. On the -initiative of John Hock, himself a priest, orators clamoured in favour of -abolishing the Catholic priests’ celibacy. Revolutionary orders from the -War Office and the Soldiers’ Council spread all over the country. Pogány -has sent instructions to the various military detachments that they -should, with the help of the confidential men, elect officers of the most -advanced political opinions and dismiss the others. - -In the Town Hall the Workers’ Council has now passed sentence of death -on the system of small holdings and on the distribution of land. This -distribution would at least have left Hungarians to some extent possessed -of their birthright. But that would have retarded the plans of our -new conquerors. So they want to socialize it and create producers’ -co-operative Societies, controlled from Budapest, and directed, instead -of by the old Hungarian landlords, by people who, as Kunfi said: -“are inspired by the new spirit of Hungary.” They want to achieve the -revolution of the soil even as they achieved their political revolution. -After the wheel, they want to lay hands on the ship itself. - -Outside the walls, no less than inside, the red plague is spreading. -I remember the first red flag hoisted. It hung alone for a long time, -then it was followed by others. The rebellion of October ordered the -beflagging of the town. The perpetrators of that crime commanded an -obscene display of joy in the hour of our great disaster, and Budapest -donned in cowardly fashion the festive decoration imposed upon her, -while the country was being torn to pieces all around. In the days that -followed she did not dare to remove it: she stood there, beflagged, -during the downfall, under the heel of foreign occupation, like a painted -prostitute, and the national colours became antagonistic to our souls, an -insult to, a mockery of, our grief. Though it sounds like the talk of a -madman, I say that I began to hate the colours for which I would formerly -have loved to give my life. - -Now the red, white, and green flags are disappearing rapidly. But the -soiled colours of the nation are not replaced in the country’s capital -by the black of mourning. Every day there are more and more red flags in -the streets of this unprincipled town, which is always outrunning itself -and stamping its past into the mud. Once I loved this town and wrote its -romance, so that its people might learn to love it through my art.[4] Now -I have become a stranger within its gates and have no communion with it. -I impeach it and repudiate it. - -And this accusation is not raised against the foreign race which has -achieved power, which has attained its end by sheer perseverance, -ingenuity, industry and pluck—but against Magyardom and the whole nation, -who have, heedlessly, incapably and blindly, given up their own heart—the -capital. - -All past powers and governments are responsible for this. The reproach -concerns to the same extent those politicians who are still debating -about shades and won’t see that to-day there are only colours, and won’t -feel that in a short time there will be no more colours, but only one -colour, and that that one will be—red. - -This bitter thought brought to my mind a Red soldier whom I saw when I -was on duty at the railway station. Some armed men came into the hall -where we have our Red Cross. They were commanded by a strapping young -Hungarian. He stopped in front of me and asked me whether I had seen -ninety-six men pass there. They came from Deés, were Whites, armed, and -their track had been lost. - -“I haven’t seen them.” Then my eyes caught sight of his cap. A broad red -ribbon was sewn round it. “What have you done with the red, white, and -green one?” - -“We lost that on the Piave,” the soldier answered. - -“There you lost the black and yellow one.[5] You have torn off our own -colours yourselves.” As I said this I looked straight into his eyes. He -couldn’t stand my gaze: he snatched the cap from his head and hid it -behind his back: - -“Well, and you gentlefolk, why don’t you ever give us a lead?” - -Many times have those words echoed in my ears since then, every time -a soldier or a workman has flung at me the accusation of want of -leadership. It seems to be a characteristic of our politicians and -intellectuals. - - * * * * * - - _March 6th._ - -An old woman stood on the edge of the curb and made queer, whining -sounds. People looked at her and went on. A few street urchins jumped -about her and laughed at her. When I came near I noticed that she was -blind. She was making heartrending appeals out of her eternal darkness to -the passers-by, and wanted to cross the busy street, but there was none -to give her a helping hand. For a moment or two I looked at the people: -they were mostly poor: labourers, labourers’ wives. They passed unmoved, -caring for none but themselves. - -The community of Marxian proletarians came to my mind. Those teachings -which kill human community kill class community too. The times which tear -the Saviour from the cross crucify humanity in His place. - -I took the old woman’s arm and led her through the medley of trams and -carriages. - -“I am sure it is one of the gentlefolk who leads me,” the woman said; -“our own people have become so cruel, even to their own kind....” - - * * * * * - - _March 7th-8th._ - -I live from day to day. I have not yet been called before a tribunal. -I am not arrested, but their accusations against me remain, nobody has -torn up the warrant for my arrest. Why they hesitate about executing it I -don’t know, for I shouldn’t trouble to ask them why they arrested me, and -certainly wouldn’t accept any intervention on my behalf. I wouldn’t ask -them for anything. - -I am free, and yet I am not. I had intended to visit two provincial towns -in the interest of the Women’s Association, but I was warned that if I -were to leave Budapest it would be considered flight, and I should be -arrested. What am I to do? - -The elections are coming off shortly. I work too, though I don’t believe -in them. The situation would be just the same if, regardless of all -intimidation, the patriotic masses were to secure a majority. Social -Democracy is not particular about its means; it has roused the workmen -with the story of the world-saving powers of the equal and secret ballot, -and now when this has been obtained and it ought to submit to its -judgment, the official Government journal says right out: “If Socialism -were, for whatever reason, to lose the battle, it would be ultimately -obliged to resort to arms against the counter-revolution....” The -election can’t help us. Something else will have to happen. - -And it will happen. It is in the air. A monster cord is tightening round -us, and when it snaps it will draw blood from those it strikes. - - * * * * * - - _March 9th._ - -The red fist is raised higher every day and becomes more and more -threatening. In a friendly way it points occasionally to the gallows, -and then towards gaol. This morning it has again honoured me with its -attention. The official paper of the Social Democratic headquarters, -under the title ‘The visiting Counter-Revolution,’ makes an onslaught on -those who, without the knowledge of the Government, are communicating -with the envoys of the Entente, and, in company with others, it calls me -a counter-revolutionary spy. - -Somebody gave me the paper on the staircase of the Protestant Theological -College. The Evangelical students were giving a concert, and between -the songs I was to give an address. The words of ‘The People’s Voice’ -were still buzzing in my head when I stepped on the platform. I told the -Protestant youths that every patriotic action which serves its purpose, -that every patriotic word that hits the mark, regains a scrap of our -torn country. _The People’s Voice_ accused me this morning of being a -counter-revolutionary spy. I don’t deny it, I try to inform foreign -countries of the state of affairs by word of mouth and with my pen. I -read an article of mine which a compatriot and his Swedish wife had taken -to Stockholm for the _Svenska Dagbladed_. It was called: ‘An appeal from -a nation’s scaffold.’ I left it to my audience to decide whether that was -counter-revolution or patriotism. - -When I came to the end of my address a loud voice shouted: “We want a -hundred thousand similar counter-revolutionaries!” And the whole audience -jumped up and took up the cry. - -A wave passed over the hall, a wave which grows, spreads over the -country, while from the other side there comes another wave coloured red. -Which is faster, which will be the first to break the dyke? It is all a -question of time. - - * * * * * - - _March 10th-11th._ - -The street was silent. There was no shooting last night and the obscene -shouts of drunken patrols were not heard. It might have been about -half past one when a cart came down the street and stopped at our front -door. “Surely they have not come to fetch me in a cart?” I thought, but -all the same I collected my papers and stuck them under the bookcase. -There was an odd noise below, as if something were being broken open. -Then there followed steps carrying a heavy weight. The thought occurred -to me that they might be robbing our cellar. I put out my lamp and went -to the window. The street was practically dark, but I thought I could -distinguish a cart and a few human figures. - -What if they were stealing our coal! The idea made me shudder. I ran to -the _concièrge_, made him open the door, and went out into the street. -The cart was standing at the cellar-stairs of the neighbouring house, -where a carpenter had his workshop. The night birds were dragging -furniture out of it. One of the dark figures stood in front of me: “Good -evening, Miss,” he said. - -“Good-evening,” I answered, and with the egotism bred of our times I was -glad that it was not our cellar into which they had broken. “Good-night,” -I added politely. “Good-night,” came the answer. - -Only when the door had shut behind me did I realise that these -well-intentioned people might easily have knocked me down. - -Such are the “Winter’s Tales” enacted in the nights of Budapest.... - - * * * * * - - _March 12th._ - -In the name of the women of Hungary we made a last attempt to-day to -unite the adherents of law and order. The leaders gathered at my house: -we all realised that this was our last chance. And when at length, after -long discussions, we women were left to ourselves, all we could do was to -sum up our efforts in the words: “we have failed again!” - -Before going to bed the housekeeper brought her account books to my -mother. She fixed her inquisitive eyes on me and said: “You look tired, -miss. You’ve had so many visitors to-day! Perhaps it was an important -meeting?...” - -Instinctively I answered: “We discussed whether it would be possible -to have the children’s festival this year.” And then straight out, in -self-defence, I asked: “Your fiancé, he is Pogány’s chauffeur, isn’t he?” - -She was taken aback by my sudden question and gave herself away: - -“He carries Pogány sometimes, sometimes Böhm.” - -That was just what I wanted to know. - - * * * * * - - _March 13th._ - -Many people are stopping at the street corner, where a new poster is -shrieking from the walls. It represents a giant workman bending over the -Hungarian Parliament, at his feet a bucket of paint, and with a dripping -brush he is painting the mighty mass of granite, which is our House of -Parliament, red. Above the picture is the appeal ‘Vote for the Social -Democratic party.’ - -The everlasting pile of stones, and—red paint.... That sums it up -completely—even more than was intended. - -The other day we stuck up our tiny poster. It was a map of Hungary: on -a white field the green frontiers, and above, in red letters; ‘National -Association of Hungarian Women.’ _They_ are free to cover the walls with -yard-long posters: ours was no bigger than a hand and took up little -enough room, yet they could not tolerate it. I saw a little boy tearing -them off. - -“Why do you do that, sonny? It does not hurt you.” - -“I get twenty crowns a day to tear down those in national colours.” - -All around us foreign invaders are tearing our country to bits with -impunity. In the capital, hired little Hungarian boys destroy its image. - -The future lacerating itself. - - * * * * * - - _March 14th._ - -I think that has pained me more than anything else. The face of that -boy has haunted me ever since I saw it. Whose contrivance is it that we -should come to this? A new teacher walks among the children, a devilish -red shadow has mounted the teacher’s desk. It takes away from us the -last thing that remained to console us. It started many years ago in the -factories, then it prowled about the barrack-squares, and now it invades -the schools. It puts up “confidential” boys and girls in opposition to -the teacher’s authority and gives them everything they were not allowed -to touch before. “It was all stupid lies,” it whispers incessantly, and -gives them the idea of Divinity as a target for their pea-shooters, and -the map of their country, with all it stands for, to make kites with. -It even betrays their parents to them: “don’t respect them!” it says. -“You are only the result of their lasciviousness. They only sought their -own pleasure in your existence, and you owe them neither gratitude nor -obedience.” - -The devilish red shadow threatens morals with ever increasing impudence. -“Let the human mind be set free,” said Kunfi, and he replaced religious -teaching in the schools by the exposition of sexual knowledge. Jewish -medical students and lady doctors give erotical lectures to little boys -and girls, and, so as to make their subject quite clear, films are shown -which display what the children fail to understand. I heard of two little -girls who lost their mental balance in consequence of these lectures. -Some children come home disgusted and fall in tears into their mother’s -lap. But there are also those who laugh and say horrible things to their -parents. After robbing the land the theft of souls has started, and Jesus -appeals in vain that the little children be allowed to come unto Him: -they must go no more. - -A woman came to our office to-day. “The children turn against me,” she -complained, and her voice broke. “School has robbed me of their hearts.” - -I tried to console her, but she only shook her head: “What has been -defiled in the children’s soul can never be cleansed again.” - -I did not know what to say. After all, she was right. - - * * * * * - -Talk is buzzing behind me. Voices are raised. Somebody coming from Sopron -says that the Austrians are covering the whole of West Hungary with -their propaganda. The Czechs want a Slav corridor in those parts, right -down to the Adriatic Sea. Another voice gives news of the British: “Don’t -you know? They have decided that the whole navigation on the Danube is to -pass into the hands of the Czechs, including all Hungarian vessels”.... -“The Roumanians are advancing steadily,” says a whisper. “In Paris they -cannot advance the line of demarcation as fast as they pass beyond it.” - -In one county the Workers’ Council has expelled the landlords and various -estates have already been socialised. Young Jews from provincial towns -now direct and control the old stewards and bailiffs who have grown old -in hard work on the estates. One voice rose in alarm: “The Government is -impounding all banking accounts and safe-deposits. There is a run on the -banks. Something awful is going to happen.” - - * * * * * - -I looked at the woman near the window who was wiping the tears from her -eyes. Lands, rivers, old estates, acquired fortunes, money, gold—they are -lost, but they can be recovered. But what that woman is weeping for is -lost for ever. - - * * * * * - - _March 15th._ - -This is the 70th anniversary of our glorious revolution of 1848. -During the period of Austrian absolutism which followed it the nation -commemorated it in secret. Then once more the flowers of that day, the -national flags, were allowed to be unfurled freely. Anthems, songs, -speeches, processions with flags. For half a century March the 15th was a -service at the altar of liberty. - -This day has never passed so dull and mute as it has this year. The -flags, which have practically rotted off their staffs in the last few -months, have lately become rare, and to-day they have not reappeared. It -is said that it was by request of the Communist party that the Government -has repudiated this day, though it claims to be its spiritual descendant. - -The town, quiet during the day, went to sleep early. The March wind blows -cold and chases through dark empty streets. The shop-signs swing like -black shadows, and the brass plates of barbers’ shops dance in the air. - -Our street sleeps too. Through its dream a step breaks now and then. In -the next room the clock with the alabaster pillars strikes midnight in -hesitating strokes. Who goes there, in this stormy night? - -I seem to see him. He is tall and wears an old-fashioned shabby dolman. -His white shirt is folded over it, and the wind plays with the soft -collar. His face is scarcely visible, so far has he drawn the cap over -his eyes. He goes on and on, through empty, unfriendly streets. His spurs -clink, and his big sword knocks against his boots. A motor races through -the streets, its interior lit up by an electric bulb. A heavy-featured -fat man leans back into the cushions. A patrol turns the corner. -“Pogány,” says one of the men. The boots of Red soldiers tramp unsteadily -on the pavement. They pass the man in the dolman, look in his direction, -but see him not. His fluttering collar touches them, but they feel it -not. And he just glares at the red gashes left on their caps where the -national cockades have been torn off. - -“_What have you done with my rosettes?_” - -His face turns paler than death. He goes on. His eyes wander over the -empty flag-staffs between the red flags. - -“_What have you done to my flags?_” - -His way takes him past some lighted windows. They are working up there in -an editorial office. Red soldiers stand with cocked revolvers in front of -the editorial table. They are the censors, and the rotary presses hum in -the cellars. Compositors in linen overalls, besmeared with ink, lean over -their work. - -“_What have you done with my free press? What have you done with its -freedom born in March?_” - -He leans over the compositors’ shoulders, and his eyes pass over the -letters. They do not see him, nor hear him; they go on composing the -line: “Under the statue of Alexander Petöfi, Eugene Landler spoke of the -significance of March 15th. The choir sang the Marseillaise.” - -“_What have you done with my songs?_” - -He goes on again, dark and alone. He knows the streets, he knows the -garden, the big quiet house with its pillars, between the rigid, wintry -trees. He has reached the Museum. Under his hand the handle of the -locked, barred gate gives way. The guardian wakes and looks out of his -shelter. Nothing—it was a dream. The wind whistles, and the wanderer’s -collar flutters as he mounts the lofty stairs and stops at the top -against the wall. He looks down, standing long immobile, and asks the -winds why there is nobody to call: “Magyars! Arise!” - -“_Don’t they know it here? Who are the masters now, under Hargita and on -the fields of Segesvár?_” - -He is tired and would like to stretch himself at ease after the long sad -road. - -“_To whom have you given my grave?_” - -There is no rest and there is no place for him to go to, he whose ghost -had led me through the town on this homeless fifteenth of March. - -Oh let him go, let him go in silence, for should he remain here and raise -his voice to-morrow the Government of ‘Independent Hungary’ would arrest -him as a counter-revolutionary.[6] - - * * * * * - - _March 16th._ - -I was at Fóth to-day, where I had intended to address the village women. -But the bubbles rise no longer in the wine of Fóth. Spring has a heavy, -foreboding atmosphere there to-day. - -I went with two friends. Beyond the town white patches of snow were -melting on the awakening black soil. The waters of winter flowed with a -soft gurgle in the ditches. - -“We cannot have a meeting to-day in the village,” I was told. “Another -time, next week ... there is a Social Democratic mass-meeting in the town -hall, and a memorial service for those killed in the war at the cemetery. -There is a lot of excitement, and I’m afraid the meeting of women would -be interfered with.” - -We listened to the speeches from a window of the town hall. They differed -widely from Budapest’s orations. Here, the half-hearted war-cries were -shouted under the national colours and mixed with hero-worship. It was -the same in the cemetery. Then suddenly a drunken soldier stood up on the -mound of a grave. Hatred was in his face and dark threats poured from -his lips: “Let the gentle-folk learn. We are going to teach them. They -cheated the people, and drove them into death. But just you wait now that -we have got the power....” - -Night was falling when our crowded train entered Budapest. There were no -cabs, they have been on strike for the last four days, and I couldn’t -get on to an electric car. A soldier shoved me aside and dragged me off -the steps. I watched him pushing his way in among the passengers to make -room for himself. Apparently somebody shoved him back, for he drew his -revolver and began to shoot at random. The car stopped, the passengers -jumped off, women shrieked and there was a panic. - -I walked along the streets. Nearly everywhere the pavement was pulled -up and here and there red warning lamps blinked near the holes, but -there were no road-menders. I thought of an old engraving of the French -revolution. In the picture there were narrow old houses, and between them -barricades on which figures in tight check trousers, and with top hats, -but without coats, were shooting with very long guns with fixed bayonets. -Barricades? Why, these paving stones practically offered themselves for -that purpose. - -What is it preparing for, this town which becomes stranger every day? -What is it scheming now, when nearly every voice in it has been silenced -and only the mind of the rabble finds expression? As I passed under the -mass of the cathedral I looked up at its tower where a big bell hangs, -high above all the towers and bells of the town. I remembered its voice. -If only it might speak—but not to call to Mass. I want to hear it sound -the tocsin, in desperate appeal.... - - * * * * * - - _March 17th-18th._ - -People speak to me and I answer them; what I say sounds quite natural, -yet I am only partly there, only bodily; the rest of me is walking ahead -of myself and counting the hours. - -I made a speech at a meeting to-day, and then wrote letters in the -office, after which I had a talk with the secretary. Perhaps people -didn’t notice that my mind is now haunted by a single idea, an expectant -desperate idea. The secretary had been in the country.... Bad news.... He -had spoken to Bishop Prohaszka, who told him that a sharp plough is being -prepared to tear up the soul of the Hungarian people. It will make a deep -furrow, but it has to be, so as to make the ground the more fertile. - -“It will be so,” I said, as if I had heard the words of the bishop with -the soul of Assisi repeated in my dream. - - * * * * * - - _The night between 19th-20th March._ - -The last embers died out in the fireplace: I began to shiver, yet I -did not move. I sat in my chair in front of my writing-table and felt -shudders running down my back. - -I ought to have written my last manifesto in the name of the Association. -I began it, but at the end of the first sentence the pen stopped in my -hand, would not go on, drew aimless lines, and went on scratching when -the ink had dried on it. Then it fell from my hand and rolled on the -table. I took up a book at random, held it for a long time in my hands, -and looked at its lettering. I don’t know what it was. I closed it and -shut my eyes. One hears better like that, and I am waiting. - -The hours struck one after the other. Twelve, one, half-past one, a -quarter to two.... I put out the lamp and opened the window. - -I went back to my table. The cold was streaming in through the open -window and made me shiver. The silence quivered, and it seemed to me as -though a huge artery was throbbing in the air. - -The clock struck two. - -It is time now.... Every nerve in my body was at high tension, my neck -became rigid. - -I don’t know how long it lasted. I felt colder and colder. The clock -struck again. Perhaps it was fast.... About half an hour may have passed. -My stiffness began to relax, as if the very bones of my body had melted; -my head drooped. - -So they have postponed it again! - -It had been fixed for two o’clock this morning. We have arms enough, and -the police and the gendarmery are on our side. But the signal did not -come. The bells of the cathedral never sounded. - -What has happened? Will it sound to-morrow, or the day after? - -If only it is not too late.... - - * * * * * - - _March 20th._ - -The night of the counter-revolution had been fixed for so many dates and -had been postponed so many times that hope began to tire. Will it ever -come? I thought. With an effort I roused myself from my weariness and -concentrated my whole mind once more on expectation. - -The town, too, seemed expectant, the very streets on the alert—at any -rate so it seemed to me: there was an expectant silence in the very dawn. -There were no newspapers—it is said that the compositors have struck -for higher wages. I went to the bank. The Government has impounded all -deposits, and no money is to be got anywhere. The shutters are drawn and -the crowd outside pushes and swears in panic. - -All sorts of rumours are flying about. Somebody reports that the -Communist army is preparing something: disbanded soldiers are holding -threatening meetings all over the suburbs, insisting on the release of -Béla Kún and his companions. It is also reported that Michael Károlyi is -planning something. In his hatred he had once sworn that he would destroy -Tisza, even if the nation had to perish with him. Tisza is dead, but -his soul has risen against Károlyi in the whole nation. And so Károlyi -prepares a new vengeance. It is rumoured that this is not directed -against Magyardom alone, which has regained consciousness and repudiates -him, but also against the Entente, which will have nothing to do with him. - -What is going to happen to us? - -I went to the meeting of the Party of National Unity this afternoon and -exchanged a few words with Count Stephen Bethlen. He said that great -changes are to be expected; the powers of the Entente had informed -Károlyi through their representatives that they would show consideration -to a level-headed Government. To give weight to their demand they -threatened us through Colonel Vyx with new lines of demarcation. Count -Bethlen thought the situation less desperate than it had been lately, and -I was reassured for a time. - -I came home with a friend through remarkably crowded streets. She lived -a long way off and we were late, so she stayed with us for the night. -I roused myself in the evening and we worked together on the women’s -manifesto. It was about midnight when my mother came in to us, and, as -I usually do when I have written something, I asked her opinion and -followed her advice. Then she drove us off to bed. When I was left alone -I tried to allay my restlessness by polishing the manuscript. Thus the -time passed. It was two o’clock. - -Suddenly, I don’t know why, yesterday’s excited expectation came over me -again. I looked up and thought I heard the clanging of a bell a great -distance away. My throat became dry, and my heart beat madly. I threw the -window open. - -But out there all was hopelessly quiet. It was just an hallucination.... -For a while I leaned out into the cold, black street. A shot was fired. -Then the night resumed its stillness. - -“I can stand it no longer.” How often did we say that during the war! -Then came the protracted debâcle of autumn; then winter, and our country -was torn to pieces. We can’t stand it.... But we stood it. And who knows -how much more we shall have to stand this spring? - -I leaned on the window-sill, and in the dark I began to see visions, as -if I were dreaming a nightmare. Suddenly the visions became definite. I -saw myself in a big ugly house, with unusually high windows, opening -in its bare high walls. We were sitting in the last room, waiting for -something which we could not escape. There was no door in the room -leading into the open, and down there the gate was wide open, with nobody -to guard it. Through the draughty porch steps came inwards, and nobody -stopped them. They came up the stairs. For some time one door in the -house opened after another. One more, and one more, each nearer than the -last.... - -We can’t stand it any longer.... The minutes stretch to horrible -infinity, and yet we cannot move, and expectation becomes terror. The -steps are already hesitating at the last door. Something is happening -there. Nobody is yet visible, but the door-handle moves, slowly, -carefully, and then it creaks. - -For God’s sake open it. Let anything happen, whatever it is, but only let -it happen! - - * * * * * - - _March 21st._ - -Rain falls, and water flows from the dilapidated gutters. The drops beat -on the metal edging of my window and sound as if a skeleton finger were -knocking, asking for admittance. - -The hall bell rang. It was Countess Chotek bringing a contribution for -the Association. Then Countess Mikes arrived, though it was not yet nine -o’clock. She whispered in my ear: “I have very bad news. I must speak to -you.” - -I took the money and we went out. She told me in the carriage that a -reliable person had been present yesterday at a Communist meeting. -The majority of workmen had gone over to the Communist party—the iron -and metal workers had all gone over—and they had decided henceforth -to oppose the parties in power and at the same time break down the -counter-revolution. - -Is the demoniacal magician who with his evil eye has cast a spell of -suicidal lethargy over the whole nation now going to close his hand -definitely on his benumbed prey? - -We went to the offices of the Association and had scarcely arrived there -when Countess Louis Batthyány rushed in and signalled to me. We retired -to a corner. It was only then that I noticed how thin and deadly pale -her face was. She spoke nervously. The Government had resigned. Colonel -Vyx had handed it an ultimatum. The Entente has again advanced the line -of demarcation and now asks also for a neutral zone. And Károlyi, on -reliable information, wants to hand over the power to the Communists. - -So that was Károlyi’s vengeance.... - -Elisabeth Kállay and her sister came in. On hearing the news they rushed -off again to inform Archduke Joseph, and went also to Stephen Bethlen to -ask him to attempt the impossible with the delegates of the Entente. - -Within the last few days Colonel Vyx has withdrawn the French Forces from -Budapest. All in all there might be about three hundred Spahis in the -neighbourhood. He knew what was going on. Was he intentionally depriving -the population of the town of their only safeguard? - -Countess Batthyány got up to go. Before leaving she whispered in my ear -that I must escape during the night, as my name was on the first list of -persons to be arrested. - -I went home. It poured the whole afternoon and the rain beat a tattoo on -my window. I telephoned for my sister, speaking softly so that my mother, -who was ill in bed, could not hear. She knows nothing as yet. - -Later, a friend came to tell me that it was essential for me to escape, -they had decided to hang me; so when Countess Chotek came back I -returned the money to her which she had brought in the morning for the -Association, saying, “It would not be safe any longer with me.” She -brought the same warning as my other friend. - -“I won’t go,” I said. “It would be cowardice to run away. If they want to -arrest me, let them do it. I shall stay here.” - -“But we shall need you later, when we can resume our work,” my friend -said, and tried to persuade me. “I would take you with me, but you -wouldn’t be safe there, for they’re sure to search our place for my -brother.” I listened to her patiently, but I felt neither fear nor -excitement, perhaps because of a curious illusion I had that the talk was -not about me, but about somebody else. - -About seven o’clock a young journalist friend came to us, deadly pale. He -closed the door quickly behind him, and looked round anxiously as if he -feared he had been followed. He also looked terrified. - -“Károlyi has resigned,” he said in a strained voice. “He sent Kunfi from -the cabinet meeting to fetch Béla Kún from prison. Kunfi brought Béla -Kún to the Prime Minister’s house in a motor car. The Socialists and -Communists have come to an agreement and have formed a Directory of which -Béla Kún, Tibor Számuelly, Sigmund Kunfi, Joseph Pogány and Béla Vágó are -to be the members. They are going to establish revolutionary tribunals -and will make many arrests to-night. Save yourself—don’t deliver yourself -up to their vengeance.” - -Even as he spoke, shooting started in the street outside. Suddenly I -remembered my night’s vision.... We are in the big ungainly house ... the -door handle of the last room is turning, and the last door opens.... - -An awful voice shrieked along the street: - -“LONG LIVE THE DICTATORSHIP OF THE PROLETARIAT!” - - -THE END.[7] - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] _The People’s Voice_, a Social Democratic newspaper. - -[2] It should be remembered that the Hungarian Freemasonry had become, -like the Grand Orient de France, a political association and is -fundamentally different from English Freemasonry. [TRANSLATOR.] - -[3] Joseph II. would never consent to be crowned. - -[4] _The Old House._ - -[5] Black and Yellow was the flag of the Hapsburgs, consequently of the -Austro-Hungarian army, and was always disliked in Hungary as antagonistic -to national aspirations. - -[6] The ghost is Petöfi, the national poet of Hungary, who, on March 15, -1848, roused the country with his famous song “Magyars! Arise!” He fought -in the War of Independence and died a hero’s death on the battlefield of -Segesvár, in Transylvania, where he lies in an unknown grave. His poem, -the national song, started the revolution. (’48) - -[7] The second part of Miss Tormay’s diary, containing the account of -the Commune and of her escape and pursuit, will be published as soon as -possible. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTLAW'S DIARY: -REVOLUTION *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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-} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.illowp48 {width: 48%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp48 {width: 100%;} -.illowp53 {width: 53%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp53 {width: 100%;} -.illowp54 {width: 54%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp54 {width: 100%;} -.illowp58 {width: 58%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp58 {width: 100%;} - - /* ]]> */ </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of An outlaw's diary: revolution, by Cécile Tormay</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: An outlaw's diary: revolution</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Cécile Tormay</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Contributor: The Duke of Northumberland</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 9, 2022 [eBook #69121]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTLAW'S DIARY: REVOLUTION ***</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_i"></a>[i]</span></p> - -<p class="center larger">AN OUTLAW’S DIARY</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a>[ii]</span></p> - -<p class="center"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></p> - -<p class="center smaller">Crown 8vo. 6s. net. each</p> - -<div class="container"> -<ul> -<li>THE OLD HOUSE: A Novel</li> -<li>STONECROP: A Novel</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p class="center smaller">Published by<br /> -PHILIP ALLAN & CO.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iii"></a>[iii]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus01" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus01.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">THE AUTHOR IN HER STUDY.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<i>Frontispiece.</i>)</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a>[iv]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage larger">AN OUTLAW’S<br /> -DIARY:<br /> -<span class="smaller">REVOLUTION</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">By</span><br /> -CECILE TORMAY</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">WITH A FOREWORD BY</span><br /> -THE DUKE OF NORTHUMBERLAND</p> - -<div class="figcenter titlepage illowp54" style="max-width: 12.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/allan.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON:<br /> -PHILIP ALLAN & CO.<br /> -<span class="smaller">QUALITY COURT</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>[v]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>First published in 1923</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY W. JOLLY AND SONS, LTD., ABERDEEN.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[vi]</span></p> - -<p class="dedication">TO<br /> -A GENTLE VICTIM<br /> -OF THE REVOLUTION<br /> -MY UNFORGETTABLE MOTHER<br /> -I DEDICATE THIS<br /> -BOOK</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE</h2> - -</div> - -<p>It was fate that dubbed this book <i>An Outlaw’s -Diary</i>, for it was itself outlawed at a time -when threat of death was hanging over every -voice that gave expression to the sufferings of -Hungary. It was in hiding constantly, fleeing -from its parental roof to lonely castles, to provincial -villas, to rustic hovels. It was in hiding -in fragments, between the pages of books, under -the eaves of strange houses, up chimneys, in the -recesses of cellars, behind furniture, buried in -the ground. The hands of searching detectives, -the boots of Red soldiers, have passed over it. -It has escaped miraculously, to stand as a -memento when the graves of the victims it -describes have fallen in, when grass has grown -over the pits of its gallows, when the writings -in blood and bullets have disappeared from the -walls of its torture chambers.</p> - -<p>And now that I am able to send the book -forth in print, I am constrained to omit many -facts and many details which as yet cannot -stand the light of day, because they are the -secrets of living men. The time will come -when that which is dumb to-day will be at -liberty to raise its voice. And as some time -has now passed since I recorded, from day to -day, these events, much that was obscure and -incomprehensible has been cleared up. Yet I -will leave the pages unrevised, I will leave the -pulsations of those hours untouched. If I have -been in the wrong, I pray the reader’s indulgence. -My very errors will mirror the errors of -those days.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>[viii]</span></p> - -<p>Here is no attempt to write the history of a -revolution, nor is this the diary of a witness of -political events. My desire is only that my -book may give voice to those human phases -which historians of the future will be unable -to describe—simply because they are known -only to those who have lived through them. It -shall speak of those things which were unknown -to the foreign inspirers of the revolution, because -to them everything that was truly Hungarian -was incomprehensible.</p> - -<p>May there survive in my book that which -perishes with us: the honour of a most unfortunate -generation of a people that has been -sentenced to death. May those who come -after us see what tortures our oppressed and -humiliated race suffered silently during the year -of its trial. May <i>An Outlaw’s Diary</i> be the -diary of our sufferings. When I wrote it my -desire was to meet in its pages those who were -my brethren in common pain; and through it -I would remain in communion with them even -to the time which neither they nor I will ever -see—the coming of the new Hungarian spring.</p> - -<p class="right">CECILE TORMAY.</p> - -<p class="hanging">BUDAPEST,<br /> -<i>Christmas, 1920</i>.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>[ix]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">FOREWORD</h2> - -</div> - -<p>The writer of this book tells us that “here is no -attempt to write the history of a revolution, nor -is this the diary of a witness of political events.” -Nevertheless the fact remains that it contains -much more than the personal experiences of an -actor in one of the greatest tragedies that has -occurred in recent history. If it were only that, -its value would still be very great, for it is so -vivid and dramatic a human document, and yet -its style is so simple and so completely devoid -of all “frills” or straining after effect, that it will -appeal as much to those who like good literature -and a moving tale for their own sakes, as to -those who desire to understand a chapter of -history about which little is known, but which -yet throws a flood of light upon the great world -movements of to-day.</p> - -<p>To those who are interested in that international -revolutionary movement which, in one -form or another, is threatening every civilized -state to-day, this book will be invaluable. The -course of events which led up to the revolution -in Hungary was precisely similar to the course -of events in Russia. In both cases there was a -more or less open radical, socialistic, and pacifist -movement working in conjunction with a hidden -subversive movement. In Hungary the latter -movement is described as “a pseudo-scientific -organization of the Freemasons, the International -Freethinkers’ Branch of Hungarian Higher -Schools, and the Circle of Galilee with its -almost exclusively Jewish membership.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>[x]</span></p> - -<p>In both cases the way for revolution was prepared -by an insidious propaganda in the workshops -and in the Army and Navy. In both -cases the revolution was not the result of a -spontaneous outburst of popular feeling but of a -sinister conspiracy using the confusion and discouragement -of a military disaster for its own -ends. In both cases the first step towards the -complete overthrow of Church and State was -the erection of a bourgeois radical and socialist -republic whose aim was to disintegrate and demoralise -as a preliminary to the coup d’état -which ushered in “the dictatorship of the -Proletariat.” Russia had her Kerensky, Hungary -her Károlyi.</p> - -<p>This book deals with Hungary’s agony from -the standpoint of one who experienced every -one of its phases; it does not deal with -Hungary’s resurrection from the grave of Bolshevism, -and it is here that the parallel with -Russia ceases. The heart of Hungary was -sound; the corruption, demoralisation and inertia -which have made Russia the plague-spot of -humanity had not so deeply permeated the -national life of Hungary. The race had too -much vigour, too great a regard for its religion, -its history, its traditions and its liberty to submit -for long to that soul-destroying tyranny. -And yet—and here is a lesson for the countries -of Western Europe—this nation, which, owing -to its traditions and the character and pursuits -of its people would have seemed less disposed -than any other to submit to Communism, did -for a time succumb to the despotism of a few -criminal fanatics, a gang of mental and moral -perverts. And the disaster was due not so -much to the strength of the subversive influences -as to the weakness and cowardice of the authorities -in Church and State and in Society at large.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi"></a>[xi]</span></p> - -<p>In a great industrial country like Great -Britain there is far more favourable ground than -there was in Hungary for the production of antisocial -philosophies and the manufacture of revolutionaries; -the danger from insidious propaganda, -from the failure of Government to govern, is no -less but rather more than it was in Hungary. -This book shows how appalling are the consequences -of even a temporary overthrow of -those bulwarks of civilisation, law, order and -religion, and that mankind in the 20th Century -is capable of reverting in a moment to the -barbarism and anarchy of the Dark Ages. -Russia, Italy, Hungary and Ireland have all -in the past few years told the same tale. One -of the greatest empires of the world now -presents the picture of a society enduring a -living death; Hungary and Italy have saved -themselves by their exertions and perhaps -Europe by their example. Ireland’s fate is -trembling in the balance, but the corruption of -a whole population, the systematic training of -the youth of a country to exalt rebellion into -a science and murder into a religion, can only -have one result. If the cancer has been checked -in some quarters, if the gangrene has been -amputated here and there, the poison is still -working through all the European body politic, -not only in those outrageous forms which -naturally arouse opposition in all decent and -educated minds, but in those subtle forms -which disguise themselves under the cloak of -a spurious Christianity, a zeal for humanity, -the brotherhood of man, and the internationalism -of Labour. The open and the -hidden agitations subsist side by side and -each plays into the other’s hands. The -“Red” International of Moscow, the “Yellow” -International of Amsterdam, the various shades<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii"></a>[xii]</span> -of Socialism and Syndicalism, are all parts of -one great subversive Movement though their -adherents are not all aware of it, and the -strings are pulled by the Secret Societies -which during the past century have been -behind every revolution in Europe.</p> - -<p>And, as this book reminds us, the only means -of counteracting the danger is not by surrender -or compromise, not by seeking new creeds and -theories but in adherence to old ones, not by -nursing illusions but by facing facts, by -courage, by a steadfast regard for principles, -by the faith of authority in its mission, by -“strengthening the things which remain and are -ready to die.”</p> - -<p class="right">NORTHUMBERLAND.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiii"></a>[xiii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -</div> - -<table> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Author in her Study</span></td> - <td class="tdpg" colspan="2"><a href="#illus01"><i>frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Revolutionary Soldiers</span></td> - <td class="tdc"><i>page</i></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus02">8</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Paul Kéri and Victor Heltai</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus03">10</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Eugene Landler</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus04">12</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Count Stephen Tisza</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus05">20</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Count Michael Károlyi</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus06">26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">King Charles</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus07">36</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Count Károlyi and his Entourage</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus08">50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The House of Parliament</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus09">58</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“Károlyi Stood on the Steps”</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus10">60</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Soldiers Swearing Allegiance to the National Council</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus11">62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Joseph Pogány</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus12">70</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Countess Károlyi</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus13">72</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Fiume</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus14">78</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“The Tragedy of Every Ruined Home”</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus15">86</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“On the Roofs of the Incoming Trains”</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus16">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Heltai’s Sailors</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus17">120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Crown Prince</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus18">122</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“On all the Roads ... Homeless People are in Flight”</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus19">124</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Queen Zita</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus20">128</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“A Tiny Székler Village”</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus21">132</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">John Hock</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus22">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Sigmund Kunfi</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus23">140</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Béla Kún</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus24">160</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Hungarian Crown</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus25">162</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiv"></a>[xiv]</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A Communist Orator</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus26">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Valley of the Garam</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus27">186</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">William Böhm</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus28">196</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Béla Kún Addressing the Crowd</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus29">214</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“There were Processions Everywhere”</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus30">258</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Royal Castle, Buda</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus31">260</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Count Károlyi Distributing his Lands</span></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus32">270</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xv"></a>[xv]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> - -</div> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr smaller">CHAPTER</td> - <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">19</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">55</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">101</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">119</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">135</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">153</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">171</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">189</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">208</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">225</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">239</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">256</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">274</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<h1>AN OUTLAW’S DIARY</h1> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="right"><i>October 31st, 1918.</i></p> - -<p>The town was preparing for the Day of the Dead, -and white chrysanthemums were being sold at the -street corners. A mad, black crowd carried the -flowers with it. This year there will not be any for -the cemeteries: the quick adorn themselves with -that which belongs to the dead.</p> - -<p>Flowers of the graveyard, symbols of decay, white -chrysanthemums. A town beflowered like a grave, -under a hopeless sky. Such is Budapest on the 31st -of October, 1918.</p> - -<p>Between the rows of houses shabby, drenched flags -wave on their staffs, and the pavement is covered -with dirt. Torn bits of paper, pieces of posters, -crushed white flowers mixed in the mud. The town -is as filthy and gloomy as a foul tavern after a night’s -debauch.</p> - -<p>This night Count Michael Károlyi’s National -Council has grasped the reins of power.</p> - -<p>So low have we fallen! Anger and inexpressible -bitterness assailed me. Against my will, with an -irresistible obsession, my eyes were reading over -and over again the inscriptions on strips of red, white, -and green paper which were pasted on the shop -windows in unceasing repetition: “Long live the -Hungarian National Council”.... Who has wanted -this council? Who has asked for it? Why do they -stand it?</p> - -<p>Count Julius Andrássy, the Monarchy’s Minister -for Foreign Affairs in Vienna, was clamouring desperately -for a separate peace. The thought of it raised<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> -in my mind the picture of some distant little wooden -crosses.... As if they came down from among the -clouds.... Graves at the foot of the Carpathians, -on the Transylvanian frontier, along the Danube. -Fallen in the defence of Hungarian soil....</p> - -<p>And now we forsake the mothers, wives and children -of those who are buried there. The blood rushed to -my face. Everything totters, even the country’s -honour. The very war-news fluctuates wildly. Our -heroes gain tragic, profitless victories on Mount -Assolo, whilst on the plains of Venezia the army is -already in retreat—along the Drina, the Száva and -the Danube too. And here in the capital the soldiers -are swearing allegiance to Károlyi’s National Council. -What a mean tragedy! And over the empty royal -castle, over the bridges, on the steamers on the -Danube, flags are flying as if for a holiday.</p> - -<p>I reached the Elisabeth Bridge. In irregular ranks -disarmed Bosnian soldiers marched past me, most -of them carrying small military trunks on their -shoulders. The little wooden boxes moved irregularly -up and down in rhythm with their steps, which -had lost their discipline. The soldiers cheer and -cannot understand what it all means. But for all -that: “Zivio!” They are allowed to go home, -so they are going towards the railway station.</p> - -<p>A motor lorry came up the bridge towards me. -The electric trams have stopped, and the whole road -belonged to the lorry. It raced along furiously, -noisily, like a crazy wild animal that has escaped -captivity. Armed young ruffians and soldiers stood -on it, shouting; and a boy, looking like an -apprentice, lifted his rifle with an effort and fired it -into the air. The boy was small, the rifle nearly as -long as himself. Everything seemed so incredible, -so unnatural. One of the Bosnians appeared to -think so too, for he turned back as he went along. -I can see him now, with his prematurely aged face -under the grey cap. He shook his head and muttered -something.</p> - -<p>Then the Bosnians disappeared. The damp wind -blew cold from the Danube between the houses of -Pest, and the rain started again.</p> - -<p>At the corner, three men were gathered under a -single umbrella, their big boots looking as if they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> -stood empty in the water on the road. Their coats -too looked as if they were empty, and the water -drizzled from their worn-out hats on to the collars of -their coats. Clearly they were petty officials. For -thirty years and more they have been accustomed to -go at this time of the day to their office. Now they -have found suddenly that the path has slipped away -from under their feet, and they don’t know what to -do: this was an unlawful business ... the official -oath ... their conscience.... If it were not for -the question how to live! What about the others? -Perhaps they have gone already. One ought to take -counsel with the head of the department....</p> - -<p>They discussed the matter, started to go, stopped, -then started again. Finally, when I looked after -them they were walking on steadily, as if they had -found the accustomed groove from which it was -impossible for them to swerve.</p> - -<p>Posters, fastened to poles, were floating in the air. -Underneath, in a steady throng, people passed incessantly, -walking as if under compulsion, as -if they could not stop, as if they had lost the power -of altering their direction. It was as though some -huge dark animal crawled along the pavement, a -yoke on its neck, and as it crawled slowly it cheered.</p> - -<p>I felt an inarticulate cry rising in my throat, and -I wanted to shout to them to stop and to turn back. -But in the flowing crowd there was already something -like predestination, something which cannot be -stopped. And yet occasionally its course was -deviated. The throng parted now and then, and in -between motor cars passed in regular, short jerks. -And in the cars, decorated with national coloured -ribbons and white chrysanthemums, were typically -Semitic faces. Behind them, in the middle of the -road, the human waves closed up again.</p> - -<p>I turned off into a by-street. A peasant’s little -wooden cart came towards me. Swabian peasant -women from Hidegkút were being shaken about in -it, gay and broad among the milk cans. Suddenly—I -did not notice whence they came—three sailors -stepped into the cart’s path. One caught hold of -the horse’s bridle while the two others jumped on to -the cart. Everything happened in a flash.... -At first the women thought it was a joke, and turned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -their stupid young faces to each other with a grin. -But the sailors meant no joke. With curses they -pushed the women off the cart and, as if they were -doing the most natural thing in the world, in broad -daylight, in the middle of the city, and in sight of -a crowd of people, they calmly drove off with somebody -else’s property. The whip cracked and the -little cart went off in rapid jerks. Only then did the -women realize what had happened. With loud -shrieks they called for help and pointed where the -cart had gone to. But the street was lazy and -cowardly and did not come to the rescue. Men -passed by, shrinking from contact with other people’s -troubles, as if these were infectious.</p> - -<p>It was all so helpless and ugly. It seemed to me -that all of us who passed there had lost something. -I dared not follow up the trend of my thoughts....</p> - -<p>Under the porch of the next house two ruffians -attacked a young officer. One of them had a big -carving knife in his hand. They howled threats. A -stick rose and the lieutenant’s cap was knocked off his -head. Dirty hands snatched him by the throat. -The knife moved near his collar ... the stars were -cut off it. The cross of his order and the gold medal -on his chest jangled together. The mob roared. -The little lieutenant stood bareheaded in the middle -of the circle, his face as white as snow. He said -nothing, did not even defend himself, only his -shoulders shook convulsively. With a clumsy movement, -like a child who starts weeping, he passed the -back of his left hand across his eyes. Poor little -lieutenant! I noticed now that his right sleeve was -empty to the shoulder.</p> - -<p>Even then nothing happened. The people again -pretended not to see, as if they were glad that it had -not been their turn.... Everything seemed confused -and vague, like a half-waking fever-dream in -the reality of which the dreamer does not believe, -though he cannot help moaning under its influence.</p> - -<p>What was happening there?... In front of the -Garrison Commander’s building, under some bare -trees, some soldiers were holding open a large red, -white and green flag. At first I thought they were -at play. Then I saw that an unkempt, bandy-legged -little man was cutting out the crown from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -above the coat-of-arms with his pocket-knife. And -they held it out for him!... I felt as if I had been -burnt, and turned my head away so that nobody -might see my face. A little further on the declaration -of the Social Democratic Party stared at me -from a wall:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Fellow workers. Comrades! The egotism -of class rule has driven the country with inevitable -fatality into revolution. The troops who -have joined the National Council have occupied -without bloodshed the principal places of the -capital, the Post Office, the Telephone Exchanges -and the Town Hall, on Wednesday night, and -have sworn allegiance to the National Council. -Workers! Comrades! Now it is your turn! -The counter revolution will undoubtedly attempt -to regain power. You must demonstrate that -you are on the side of your soldier brethren. -Out into the streets! Stop all work!</p> - -<p class="right"><i>The Hungarian Social Democratic Party.</i>”</p> - -</div> - -<p>This poster made a curious impression on me: it -was as if a monstrous lie had proclaimed the truth -about itself. The party which was striving for the -rule of the working-class orders in its first declaration: -“Stop all work!” After such a beginning, what will -it order to-morrow—and after?</p> - -<p>People came towards me: workmen who were not -workmen, who no longer do any work; soldiers who -were not soldiers, who no longer obey. In this foul -atmosphere nothing is any longer what it seems. -The many red, white and green flags on the houses -are no longer our flags; no longer are they the -nation’s colours. Only the chrysanthemums remain -true flowers of the graveyard.</p> - -<p>I went on slowly, but suddenly I stopped again: on -the glass window of an obscure little tobacconist’s -shop, among the newspapers exposed for sale, -appeared a sickly, crushed-strawberry coloured -poster, which proclaimed in red “Long live the -National Council.” And then, as if some loathsome -skin-disease had infected the houses, appeared more -and more red posters, and their colour became bolder -and bolder. I was informed later that panic-stricken -tradespeople had paid two hundred crowns, some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -even a thousand, into the funds of the National -Council for this shop-window insurance.</p> - -<p>In the windows of some shops the big poster of -the <i>Népszava</i><a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> was displayed. In one night the -organ of the Social Democrats had penetrated from -its slum into the city, and its poster proclaimed from -the windows of meek bourgeois shops “Behold the -writing!” ... On the poster was printed in red -a naked man lifting his red hammer at the crowd -beyond the window. A horror made of blood.... -The thronging crowd never thought that the hammer -was lifted to break its head. And the tradesmen -never thought that the hairy red hand was on the -point of emptying their tills. I noticed that on the -poster of evil omen, besides the bloody monster, a -red working-man was struggling with a policeman -who held him in chains.</p> - -<p>A curious picture.... I now thought of the -police of the capital. The day before yesterday it -had adhered to Károlyi’s National Council. The -famous police force of Budapest had forsaken its -high ideals of duty and had gone over to the wreckers. -Never before did I realize the importance of this -betrayal. I shivered. The fog drifted as if the very -atmosphere had become unstable. The walls of the -houses near me seemed to waver too; and I seemed -to hear the cracking of the plaster, as if they also -were preparing to collapse. The noise came from the -very foundation of things. Something invisible was -collapsing in this city already undermined.</p> - -<p>“Hungarians” ... then silence. A little further -it went on: “National” ... then it started again -all along the street. My unwilling eyes were reading -the posters over and over again.</p> - -<p>“National Council”.... What is this obscure -assembly after all? How dare it call itself the -council of the nation? Who are those who incite -against the state and collect oaths of allegiance for -themselves? Who are those who from the room of -an hotel appeal to the nation and promise “an -immediate Hungarian peace, the equal right of all -nations, the League of Nations, the freeing of the -world, a social policy which will strengthen the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -power of the workers”?... They have not got -a word for our frontiers established a thousand -years! What happens in the background whither -our eyes cannot penetrate? Do the secret allies of -the Entente work among us, or only our own -enemies who, by means of their proclamations, -shout in their Ghetto-lingo that “this programme, -which is to save Hungary and free the people, has -the whole-hearted support of the Hungarian army?”</p> - -<p>Who says that? Who proclaims himself the -saviour of Hungary in the hour of her greatest peril? -Count Michael Károlyi and Rosa Schwimmer? -Martin Lovászy, Baron Louis Hatvany-Deutsch, -John Hock, Sigmund Kunfi-Kunstätter, Ladislaus -Fényes, William Böhm, Count Theodor Batthyány -and Louis Bíró-Blau? Dezsö Abraham, Alexander -Garbai and Ernest Garami-Grünfeld? Oscar Jászi-Jakobovics, -Paul Szende-Schwarz and Mrs. Ernest -Müller? Zoltán Jánosi, Louis Purjesz and Jacob -Weltner?</p> - -<p>Eleven Jews and eight bad Hungarians!</p> - -<p>My soul is racked with indescribable pain. Good -God, where is the King? Where is Count Hadik and -his government, the officers, the still faithful troops? -Are there no longer any fists? Is there nobody to -strike at all?</p> - -<p>After Gödöllö the King now gropes in Vienna. -Hadik remains inactive while the fateful hours fly -by. The officials do not lay down their pens, but -incline their heads meekly under the new yoke. -And, worst of all, the military command surrenders -its sword without an attempt to draw it. There is -no resistance anywhere: dark, underhand forces by -careful labour have prepared the ground long ago. -They have demolished everything that is Hungarian. -And now, one stitch after the other, with deadly -rapidity, the fabric that has endured a thousand -years is coming undone.</p> - -<p>My brain worked feverishly, thoughts galloping -madly and seeking desperately for somebody—something. -Somebody who could still stem the general -ruin. Stephen Tisza!... And silently I asked his -pardon for having condemned and misunderstood -him. How he must suffer now! What must his -thoughts be?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<p>Near the church of the Franciscans a thronging -crowd pushed me to the wall, so that I could not -move. In front of me small urchins wormed themselves -like moles through the crowd—Galician boys, -with <i>payes</i>—locks hanging down in front of their -ears—who were present and yet invisible, whose -passage was only signalled by the shrinking of -people’s shoulders, just as the underground road of -the mole is marked by the mole-hills above. The -boys were distributing poetry printed by the -<i>Népszava</i>, offering it with humble impudence and -thrusting it into the pockets of those who refused to -take it.</p> - -<p>The air was full of disturbing noises, and cheering -was audible from the end of the road. A motor lorry -clattered towards the Town Hall, reeling sailors, -armed to the teeth, standing upon it with wide-spread -legs. Red ribbons floated from their overcoats, and -they bellowed songs. A schoolboy was running after -the lorry dragging a big rifle behind him on the pavement. -Soldiers, students, ragged women, streamed -along. In the uproar two gentlemen were pushed to -my side near the church wall. One was extremely -excited: “I know it from a quite reliable source,” -he said. “They are looting in the suburbs. The -stores too.... Yesterday Károlyi’s agents armed -the workmen of the arsenal. Thirty thousand armed -workmen! At the railway station the mob has disarmed -the soldiers.”</p> - -<p>“There is not a word of truth in all that,” -answered the other. “There is order everywhere. -Post Office, telephone exchanges.... The railway-men -have declared for the National Council. The -whole press is with it, and so is public opinion.... -The situation has been quietly cleared. As soon as -Károlyi’s government is formed there will be -order ... Lovászy, Kunfi, Jászi, Garami.... -We must resign ourselves. None but Károlyi can -get us a speedy good peace.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know?”</p> - -<p>“Well, the newspapers.... Then Károlyi has -made a statement. He has great connections with -the Entente.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus02" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus02.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIERS.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_8"><i>To face p. 8.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>I lost all patience and could listen no more, so -sought a passage in the crowd. The throng became<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -thinner, and a drunken soldier staggered past me. An -officers’ patrol came out from a street and stood in -the soldier’s way. Every man of it was a Jew. One -of them shouted harshly: “In the name of the -Soldiers’ Council!” and the drunkard submitted -reluctantly.</p> - -<p>Now I remembered: some days ago I had heard -that Károlyi’s men were organizing soldiers’ and -workmens’ councils. These councils meet in conclave -at night in schoolrooms, lecture halls. And this in -Hungary! Here, in our midst ... I shuddered -from head to foot. “In the name of the Soldiers’ -Council!” It seemed as if Trotski’s Russia had -shouted into the streets of Pest.</p> - -<p>Near my head a half-torn poster rustled in the -wind. “To the Nation.”... Tattered, Archduke -Joseph’s cry of alarm died on the grimy wall. I -looked quickly behind me. Does anybody besides -me read it? No, nobody stops. And yet, how many -people were about? And the crowd increased. It was -as though the city had for years devoured countless -Galician immigrants and now vomited them forth in -sickness. How sick it was! Syrian faces and bodies, -red posters and red hammers whirled round in it. -And freemasons, feminists, editorial offices, Galileans, -night cafés came to the surface—and the ghetto -sported cockades of national colours and chrysanthemums.</p> - -<p>As though it were beneath some wicked enchantment, -the invisible part of the town has now become -visible. It has come forth from the darkness to take -what it has long claimed as its own. The gratings -of the gutters have been removed. The drains vomit -their contents and the streets are invaded by their -stench. The filthy odour of unaired dwellings -spreads. Doors are thrown open that till now have -been kept closed.</p> - -<p>Russia! Great, accursed mystery.... Did it -begin there in the same way?... I breathed with -repugnance and drew myself together so that none -might touch me in passing.</p> - -<p>Presently I met an armed patrol. Though the -soldiers wore ribbons of the national colours I still -felt a stranger to them, for they have already sworn -allegiance to the National Council.... They looked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -shabby and bore chrysanthemums in the muzzles -of their rifles. From a window a woman of Oriental -corpulence threw white flowers to them.</p> - -<p>A young girl came along, a Hungarian. She distributed -chrysanthemums and smiled, and her shaded -eyes shone like a child’s: “Long live independent -Hungary!” I stared at her. There are some like -this too. Many, perhaps very many. They live the -glorious revolution of 1848 in this infamous parody, -and dream of the realization of Kossuth’s dreams. -Poor wretches! They are even more unfortunate -than I am.</p> - -<p>The girl offered me a flower and talked some -nonsense about Petöfi. I wanted to tell her to give -it up and go home, that she had been deceived and -it was all lies; but my efforts were in vain, I could -not pronounce a single word. I stumbled over the -edge of the pavement, my feet seemed leaden.... -A bucket stood in front of me with a big brush in it. -I looked up. A weedy youth was spreading paste -over the wall, and a new poster glared at me. The -people stood around and craned their necks.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Soldiers! You have proved yourselves the -greatest heroes within, the last twenty-four hours, -don’t soil the honours you have gained.... -Abstain from intoxicating liquors.... Obey -your comrades who have volunteered to maintain -order. With patriotic, cordial greetings,</p> - -<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 4em;"><span class="smcap">Heltai</span>,</span><br /> -<i>Town Commandant</i>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>“And who is that, now?” people asked each -other.</p> - -<p>“The Commander of the troops?”</p> - -<p>“Is he the Heltai who is the son of Adolph Hoffer?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure!” I heard behind my back.</p> - -<p>The unkempt crowd laughed.</p> - -<p>“Paul Kéri and Göndör got him nominated by -the National Council.”</p> - -<p>Paul Kéri, whose name used to be Krammer, and -Francis Göndör, whose real name was Nathan Krausz, -two radical newspaper scribes, decide who is to -command the troops of the Hungarian capital! And -it is on Heltai, the son of Adolph Hoffer, that their -choice falls.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus03" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus03.jpg" alt="" /> - <table> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"> - <p class="caption">VICTOR HELTAI <i>alias</i> HOFFER,<br /> - <span class="smaller">REVOLUTIONARY COMMANDER OF THE BUDAPEST GARRISON.</span></p> - </td> - <td class="tdc"> - <p class="caption">PAUL KÉRI <i>alias</i> KRAMMER,<br /> - <span class="smaller">ONE OF COUNT KÁROLYI’S ADVISERS.</span></p> - </td> - </tr> - </table> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_10"><i>To face p. 10.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p> - -<p>Wild fury, hopeless despair, came over me. I -wanted to shout for help, like the Swabian women -whom I had seen robbed. But who would have -listened to me and my misery? They might have -laughed, or they might have arrested me. The -street moved, lived, hummed, but it was not conscious. -For a time I stared at the people, then I set -my teeth. Was it I who was mad, or they? And I -went on.</p> - -<p>In front of the Astoria Hotel the crowd stopped. -After its secret sittings in Count Theodor Batthyány’s -palace Károlyi’s National Council pitched its tent -here, till it might take possession of the conquered -Town Hall. Near the hotel innumerable carriages -and motors were waiting. Flags flew from the -building and through its revolving door, which reminded -one of a bank, men of the stock-exchange -type went in and out. There was no policeman anywhere, -though the crowd was increasing dangerously. -The monster which had crawled in from the suburbs -was reclining against the wall of the building, leaving -a muddy, smirched trail behind it. Its head rose -under the porch: a man stood on the others’ -shoulders. His face was red and he waved his hat -violently as he shouted:</p> - -<p>“Hadik has got the sack.... Károlyi is Prime-Minister!”</p> - -<p>“Somebody is going to make a speech,” a little -Jew girl said and tried to press forward. Over the -porch an ugly fat man appeared between the flags. -“Eugene Landler!” shouted the girl in rapture. A -soldier thrust her aside. “What’s he got to do with -it? In the barracks, last night, those who spoke -were at any rate Hungarians—a chap called Martin -Lovászy and one called Pogány. They had darned -big mouthpieces, but they had the gift of the gab!”</p> - -<p>The crowd hummed like a boiling kettle. “Speak -up, hear! hear!” All looked upward.</p> - -<p>A voice from the porch fell into the listening ears. -I stood far away, on the other side of the road, -so only incoherent words reached me:</p> - -<p>“... an independent Hungary ... democracy -... social reforms.... International platform.... -In the interest of foreigners.... The gentle-folk -have driven us to the slaughter-house!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, that’s just the place for that fat one,” -said the soldier with disgust. Those near him began -to laugh, and a man who appeared to be an artisan -screwed up his lips and gave a shrill whistle.</p> - -<p>“That’ll do. Say something new! Shut up!” -some shouted towards the porch.</p> - -<p>Then something unexpected happened. A young -Jew threw the name of Tisza into the crowd. He -threw it there, just as if by accident.</p> - -<p>“He caused the war! Long live Károlyi! To -death with Tisza!” The same thing was shouted from -the other corner, and a hoarse voice exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Long live the revolution!”</p> - -<p>I shuddered. It was for the first time that I -heard it thus, openly, in the street. Rigid white -faces appeared under the entrances. But the cry -died away. It found no echo.</p> - -<p>“Down with the King!” This appealed to the -mob. It was new, hitherto none had dared to touch -this. The rabble snatched at what it heard and -vomited it back with a vengeance. And the repulsive -chorus was led by the young man who had previously -mentioned the name of Tisza.</p> - -<p>The news-boys of a mid-day paper came shouting -down the street: “The National Council has proclaimed -the Republic!”</p> - -<p>“Long live the Republic....” This was only an -attempt, but it failed. Nobody became enthusiastic. -Someone shouted: “To Gödöllö!”</p> - -<p>A Versailles, à Versailles! The starving mob of -Paris shouted this a hundred and thirty years ago, -and now in Budapest fat bank clerks exclaim: “Let -us go to Gödöllö!” Nobody moved. It is said that -ten thousand armed workmen are marching on it.... -I burned with shame. This news was not invented -by Hungarian minds. Armed men, against children! -It is not true.... At any rate, the King’s -children have made good their escape.... I only -heard half of what was said. Poor little children!...</p> - - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus04" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus04.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">EUGENE LANDLER,<br /> - <span class="smaller">HOME SECRETARY. LATER A COMMANDER IN THE RED ARMY.</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_12"><i>To face p. 12.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>As if I had been chased I turned to go down the -boulevard towards the bridge. By now armed -sailors were already stopping motor-cars in the -streets, thrusting the occupants out and driving off -in the cars. It was done quickly. Big lorries<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -filled with armed soldiers raced across the bridge. -Some were even hanging on to the steps. Shots -were fired, and a drunkard sang in a husky voice: -“Long live the Revolution, long live drink....”</p> - -<p>The whole thing was humiliating and disgusting. -If only I could escape from it, so that I might see -nothing, hear nothing! I longed for home—home, -out there in the woods, among the hills.</p> - -<p>At the entrance of the tunnel that passes under -the castle hill a soldier was offering his government -rifle for sale and asking five crowns for it. Another -offered his bayonet.</p> - -<p>On the other side of the tunnel I felt as if I had -emerged at the antipodes. There the town was -quiet, so quiet that I could hear the echo of my steps -in the streets of Buda. The single-storeyed houses -cuddled peacefully on the side of the hill. There -people will not know what has happened till to-morrow, -when they will read it over their breakfast.</p> - -<p>In one of the low windows some flower-pots stood -between the curtains. A clock struck in the room, -and a young girl started watering the flowers with a -little red watering-can. Doubtless she watered them -yesterday at the same hour and life will be the same -for her to-morrow. Meanwhile, on the other bank -of the Danube they shout: Long live the revolution! -Revolution.... Madness! What good can a -revolution do now? Nobody takes it seriously, not -even those who made it. Madness! It did me good -to repeat the word, and I began to take heart. -Nothing will come of it. The Hungarian is not a -revolutionary—he fights for freedom. Every commotion -in our history of a thousand years has been -a war of liberation. And freedom has come: independence -has fallen from its own accord into the -nation’s lap....</p> - -<p>A light already shone in one of the little houses. -Under the hanging lamp, round a circular table, -people sat peacefully. They knew of nothing.... -In one of the yards someone played an -accordion. The homely, suburban music, the fatigue -of my long silent walk, weakened the awful -impressions of the other shore. All that had tortured -me was disappearing, and my thoughts were only of -hanging lamps and accordions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<p>The density of the mist increased with the evening, -and when I reached the old military cemetery it had -nearly absorbed the outlines of all objects. Over -the collapsing graves, between the many little -rotting wooden crosses, the tombstones dissolved -like ghosts in the fog. In Pest by now the mist -would be a yellow reeking fog, while here it became -a thing of beauty. Nowadays everything that is -beautiful in the country turns to filth in Pest.</p> - -<p>Again I forgot to pay attention to the road, and -my thoughts harped on what I had lately seen.</p> - -<p>It was impossible that a few slums of a single -town should make a revolution when the whole -country was against it.... Then, I don’t know -how, I came to think of <i>The Possessed</i>—Dostoevski’s -wonderful novel. I remembered a reception which I -had attended last winter. We talked of Russia, -Lenin and Bolshevism, and I asked one of Michael -Károlyi’s relations if Károlyi had ever read that -book.</p> - -<p>“Of course, and he loves it, too. He lent it to -me to read.”</p> - -<p>There had been curious rumours about Károlyi for -some time.</p> - -<p>“Is he learning from it how to make a revolution?” -I asked, but received no answer.</p> - -<p>I was tired and walked on slowly. Along the road -the old, leafless chestnut trees came towards me in -hazy monotony, and there recurred to my memory -the little Russian town in Dostoevski’s book, -into which with his genius he has crowded a picture -of Russia as a whole. Young revolutionaries, back -from Switzerland, meet accidentally in the little -town. The demoniacal leader of these morbid -youths, craving for power, destroys the existing -order and produces chaos. Consumptive students, -alcoholics, syphilitic degenerates, prospective -suicides, cracked intellects, murderers and despairing -cowards gather round him and he forms a group of -five from the select. And then he convinces them -that innumerable similar groups are waiting with -eagerness for the signal to revolt. When his five -men hesitate he tricks them to commit a murder, so -that the knowledge of common guilt should make his -slaves mutually suspicious of each other. At his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -order they will raise the pyre.... The actors of the -revolution are together and the primal conditions are -ready. And then dissolution, terror and panic will -come, and the frightened, despoiled people will be -prepared to suffer anything and to recognise anybody -as their omnipotent master who can create order, -whatever that order may be. “We take the sly -ones with us, and lord it over the simple.” That -is the idea of Dostoevski’s hero. The eleven internationalists -of the National Council think the same. -They too share the power with the cunning ones and -use Károlyi as a stepping-stone to power. After all -Károlyi is nothing but the tool of this Council. Who -the demon is, I do not yet know.</p> - -<p>Up, to power.... But they will not get it! A -few resolute officers with a handful of soldiers can -restore order. The National Council is nothing but -an isolated “group of five.” There are no others. -If its members are arrested, the mud they have -stirred up will settle down; they are not united by -any common honour, by any common crime.</p> - -<p>Napoleon once said that with a few guns he could -have stopped the great French Revolution. For -these, a volley of rifle fire would do. But where is -he who can command it to-day?</p> - -<p>I came to the bridge over the Devil’s Ditch. In -the mist the bridge looked as if it did not rest -on the banks. Above the depth of the fog it floated -mysteriously in space. Behind a drab amorphous -veil the forest on the slope of the hills seemed a -dreamy enigma; the trees by the road: lacelike -blossoms of mist on the background of the falling -night.</p> - -<p>No sound reached me. Only some pebbles, displaced -by my steps, clattered behind me. A branch -cracked in the forest; it made me think of a skeleton -wringing its hands in impotent despair.... And -if they don’t arrest Károlyi and his accomplices to-night? -Dostoevski’s novel came again to my mind -and from among my thoughts there emerged the -shout of a wicked, shrill voice: “To death with -Tisza!” The penetrating mist now chilled me to the -marrow. I felt cold all through.... “Death to -Tisza!” It rang in my ears all the time. Good God, -for how many years has this savage cry been prepared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -by blinded politicians, by frivolous political -<i>salons</i>, by nearly all the press, in barracks, in -factories, in the <i>aula</i> of the University, in the market -place, between cellar and attic, in every human den! -For how many years! The work was done by ruthless -agitators, and now it is crowned with an awful -success. In the eyes of the crowd he would not be -a criminal who attempted the life of Tisza. His life -is outlawed. The crowd is already prepared for the -event. The mob in the street may clamour without -risk or protest for the life of this man: “To death -with Tisza!” I could not stop the fearful cry from -ringing in my ears.</p> - -<p>For days I had spoken to nobody who belonged to -Tisza’s circle. Was he in town? Had he gone? If -only he had gone away!... And I walked along -the mountain path while the hoarse cry followed me, -like a vagabond with evil intent. Try as I would I -was unable to shake it off.</p> - -<p>Night had fallen and the mist had become dense -round our house. The fort opposite had disappeared -and the edge of the mountain had become invisible. -From far away, in the direction where the town lay, -the report of firearms was audible.</p> - -<p>In the cold darkness the house appeared so lonely, -as if it had been expelled from communion with the -rest of the world. The bonds that had tied human -fates together have been severed, and we know of -nought but what is going on in ourselves. The house -was enclosed in a huge, grey wall of mist.</p> - -<p>In the hall I tried to telephone, but could get no -answer from the exchange. The receiver buzzed -meaninglessly.</p> - -<p>All at once rifle shots sounded from the hills, -then came nearer. Suddenly a shot rang out at the -bottom of our garden. Another. That one was -nearer. Then a bullet struck the chestnut tree -under my window. It had a curious effect upon me, -for an instant later it seemed as if the whole thing -had happened to someone else—as if I did not really -live it, but just read about it in a book.</p> - -<p>I extinguished the lamp, so that my lighted -window should not serve as a target, and then -groped my way in the dark to the ground floor, to -my mother’s room. A narrow band of light showed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -on the floor under the door. As she was awake -I went in. She was sitting quietly in one of the uncomfortable, -high-backed, old-fashioned chairs. At -the sound of the opening door she turned and our -eyes met. For a time we remained silent. The firing -outside had stopped too.</p> - -<p>“They seem to have stopped shooting,” said my -mother, after a while, in that wonderful quiet way -which was always reflected on her countenance -whenever life treated her harshly.</p> - -<p>“It will be over sometime; we’ve got to live -through it somehow,” I said, just to say something.</p> - -<p>My mother moved wearily. “Be careful you do -not catch cold. The night is cool ...”</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a sound of voices on the -road. I remembered something I had been told. -Burglars....</p> - -<p>“We ought to hide our money, mother, at any -rate. If it were taken we could get no more under -the present circumstances.”</p> - -<p>For a moment, a moment only, my mother looked -at me with consternation. Then: “Of course.” -And her mind too had crossed the abyss that separated -the old world of safety and protection from the -new world of insecurity, lawlessness, and uncertainty.</p> - -<p>I slipped the money under the carpet in the dark -hall. Twice I stopped. Someone was speaking in -the road, near the gate. Voices were audible, long -consultations.... Steps withdrew. I went carefully -up stairs and took care that nobody should -observe that the house was awake.</p> - -<p>My room seemed to have become chilled while I -was downstairs. The blackness engulfed me as in -some deep black sea, and I shivered. For a long -time I remained standing in the same place. An incessant -sound of death came to me from outside: -the chestnut tree under the window was shedding its -leaves. Resignation. The time of many falling -leaves. The eve of November.... The air was -filled with low, rustling, soughing, ghostly sounds. -It was as if a crowd walked stealthily in the garden -and the forest stole secretly away.</p> - -<p>Hopeless distress, as I had never felt it before, -came over me. Autumn is departing from the hills<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -this night, and by the morrow it will be gone. Then -winter comes irresistibly, dragging at its heels snow, -cold, frost, suffering, the unknown and perhaps the -impossible.</p> - -<p>What is in store for us?</p> - -<p>In the darkness, like the ticking of time, incessantly, -the leaves fell with a faint sound. A dog -whined beyond the garden, whined in an eerie, -terrifying way, as if somebody had died in its -master’s house....</p> - -<p>Despair overcame me. It was not only a dog that -whined its lament: it was the night that wept over -Hungary.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 1st.</i></p> - -<p>In the morning I heard that Tisza had been -murdered.</p> - -<p>The telephone rang in the corridor, sharply, aggressively, -as if the town was shouting out to us -among the woods. It was with reluctance that I put -the receiver to my ear.</p> - -<p>The ringing stopped and I heard only that meaningless -buzzing at a distance. It lasted for some time -while I stared through the window at the little ice-house -in the garden. At last there was silence and -I recognised the voice of my brother Géza. He spoke -from town, enquired after mother, and asked how -we had passed the night. In town they had been -shooting all night long, and armoured cars had rushed -through the streets. And then he said something I -could not understand clearly.</p> - -<p>I felt a strange reluctance to understand. I began -to be afraid of what was coming, of hearing something -which, once known, could never be altered -again. The presentiment of catastrophe took possession -of me.</p> - -<p>“But what happened?”</p> - -<p>“Poor Stephen Tisza....”</p> - -<p>I still looked out into the garden at the reed-thatched -roof of the ice-house, staring at a reed which -had become detached by some winter storm. I -stared at it till my eyes ached, as if I were clinging -to it. It was only a reed, but now everything to -which one could cling was but a reed. Suddenly the -garden vanished. The window disappeared, and -tears fell from my eyes.</p> - -<p>I heard the voice of my brother again. He concluded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -from my silence that I had not understood -what he said, so he repeated it: “He is the only -victim of the revolution. Soldiers killed him. They -penetrated into his house and ... in the presence -of his wife and of Denise Almássy they shot him -dead.”</p> - -<p>“The scoundrels!”</p> - -<p>Communication was suddenly broken off.</p> - -<p>Poor human creature! Forsaken, lonely, deserted -man! Nobody protected him. In his greatest hour, -women alone stood by his side: it is always a woman -who is at the foot of the rood. My awful presentiment -of Tisza’s martyrdom came back to me in a -shudder. How he must have suffered from the -thought that his usefulness had gone, how his -brilliant brain must have rebelled against annihilation, -how his remaining vitality must have -revolted. Stephen Tisza was dead! What an awful -void these words created. Nobody was left to bear -every burden in Hungary, to bear all blame, all responsibility. -The weight of the responsibility which -he alone bore falls to pieces with his death. Till -now, one man bore them; will the whole country be -able to bear the burden? Even whilst I asked this -question I felt as if something which I had never felt -before had fallen upon my shoulders: my share of -the terrible, invisible load. Small legatees of a -great testator ... I, others, every Hungarian.</p> - -<p>Poor Tisza! In his good qualities and in his -shortcomings he was typical of his race. He was -faithful and God-fearing, honest, credulous and -obstinate, proud, brave, calumnied and lonely, just -like old Hungary. In my mind his qualities were so -tightly knitted together that I could not separate -them.</p> - -<p>He was killed! Many will not understand the -portent to Hungary of that phrase. And yet Tisza’s -corpse lies exposed in every Hungarian home, from -one end of the country to the other, in every house, -every farm, every cottage, even there where they do -not know, where they laugh.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus05" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus05.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">COUNT STEPHEN TISZA.</p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Koller, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_20"><i>To face p. 20.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The newsboy opened the door and threw the newspapers -into the hall. The papers flew in disorder -over the floor. I said nothing about it, though he -seemed to expect some remark and looked back with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -an impudent grin to see the effect his action had produced. -Yesterday he would not have dared to do -such a thing. To-day the change has affected him -too. How quickly it spreads, faster than civilization! -That would take years to cover the road.</p> - -<p>I picked the papers up. Not one had the -customary black margin of mourning. A significant -omission on the part of newspapers of Tisza’s old -party; it showed the restraining influence of some -unknown power. His death was reported in neutral -words, hidden in some obscure corner, while one of -the papers indulged in a riot of adulation for the -National Council and another shrieked victory over -the success of the revolution which it had prepared. -It wrote cynically about Tisza and sneered at his -widow. It referred to the King as Charles Hapsburg -and proclaimed in its columns the republic for -Hungary.</p> - -<p>At last the Hungarian Liberal and Radical press -has removed its mask and displayed its countenance, -which had never been Hungarian, in all its nakedness. -But to ponder these things was unbearable, -and the reality of our misfortune burdened my soul -anew with anguish. How shall I tell mother? I -crossed the hall slowly, hesitatingly, and went to her -room. As soon as I opened the door she looked at -me inquiringly, as though she were expecting something.</p> - -<p>“Well, what has happened?”</p> - -<p>I searched for words to minimise the shock, and -then, I don’t know how, I blurted out: “Tisza has -been murdered!” The words sounded sharp and -metallic, like the stroke of an axe when it fells a -living tree which in its fall clears a gap in the forest.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget the sudden, painful alteration -in my mother’s face. She, who always managed to -look collected, lifted both hands to her forehead. -“What is to become of us?” she asked, in sobs -rather than words. I had never seen her in tears -before, and the grief that swept over me almost -stopped my breath: I was so unprepared for her -sorrow that I could utter no word of consolation. -Silently I kissed her hand. Then for a long time we -remained silent.</p> - -<p>“How did it happen?” she asked at last, in a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -voice so weary that it was as if she had travelled a -great distance during our silence.</p> - -<p>“Soldiers ...” and I handed the papers to her. -I glanced at the page of one of them: these lines -met my eyes: “... Glorious Revolution. The -National Council has taken over the government of -Hungary.... Naturally the constitution is no -longer what it was. The King has handed all his -powers to Károlyi, so that he may maintain order -in the land.” I turned the page. “One detachment -of soldiers after the other declares its adherence to -the National Council. The communal authorities -have submitted to the National Council. So have -the Exchange, the railwaymen, the men of the -electric trams.... Count Julius Andrássy, the last -common Minister for Foreign Affairs, has resigned!”</p> - -<p>News followed news in a topsy-turvy way. Vienna—in -Austria too the old order has passed away. A -Social Democrat called Renner has been made -Chancellor. The Social Democratic deputy, Victor -Adler, has become Foreign Secretary.</p> - -<p>I read further, then my eyes were arrested by a proclamation -of the National Council: “Our beflowered -and bloodless revolution will bind the nation with -eternal gratitude to the men who have worked disinterestedly -at its reconstruction.” I looked at the -end of the paper: a notice in small type caught my -attention: “Report of the General Staff: As early -as the 29th of October the Higher Command had -established communication with the Italian Commander -in Chief”.... “Trieste has been occupied -by an English fleet”.... “The King has ordered -that the Fleet, the naval institutions and all other -things pertaining to the Navy, shall be gradually -handed over to the local Committees of Zágráb and -of Pola....”</p> - -<p>Every word of the papers strikes one in the face. -Insult, shame and degradation. And in face of this -maddening conglomeration of defeats, of this heartless -report of Hungary’s collapse, there is Michael -Károlyi’s order: “The National Council orders that -on the occasion of the people’s victory, which has -for ever abolished war, the whole of Budapest and -all provincial towns are to be beflagged.”</p> - -<p>My mother has thrown her paper aside.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span></p> - -<p>“Have you read the circular by which the -National Council informs the people of Hungary that -Budapest has taken the power into its own hands -and that ‘not a single drop of Hungarian blood has -been shed?’ Tisza’s blood is not Hungarian blood -in the eyes of Károlyi and his friends.”</p> - -<p>Even as she spoke, on the last page of one of the -papers I came across the following:</p> - -<p>“Count Stephen Tisza has been sacrificed to the -cause of freedom...”</p> - -<p>“They hid that so carefully that I could not find -it,” said my mother.</p> - -<p>I read aloud:</p> - -<p>“At the villa at 35 Hermina Road an officer and a -civilian appeared on the morning of the murder. -They demanded admittance. Tisza received them -in his study. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, and -the civilian answered: ‘Are you hiding that swine -of a Czech attorney who is upholding the accusation -against me?’ ‘I don’t hide anybody,’ replied -Tisza.</p> - -<p>“The strangers left hurriedly.... It is more -than probable that they only came to spy if Tisza -was at home, because the rumour had spread in -town that he had left Pest!”</p> - -<p>Then followed a remarkably short and cynical -account of the details of the murder, every word of -which showed clearly that the writer of the article -wanted to avoid anything that might raise pity or -sympathy in favour of the victim. The report continued:</p> - -<p>“During the day a thick crowd had gathered in -the vicinity of the villa. In the evening about a -quarter past six eight infantrymen climbed over the -high railings of the garden and crept across the lawn -to the house. They entered by the back door. They -quietly disarmed the police who were in charge of -Tisza’s safety, and penetrated into the hall. The -footman tried to stop them. Hearing the noise, -Stephen Tisza, his wife, and his niece, the Countess -Denise Almássy, came out. Tisza held a revolver in -his hand.</p> - -<p>“The soldiers began by reproaching him: ‘We -have been fighting five years because of you.... -You are the cause of the destruction of our country!...<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -You were always a scoundrel.’ Then they -shouted at him to put his revolver down.</p> - -<p>“‘I will not,’ said Tisza, ‘you are armed too.’</p> - -<p>“‘Put it down,’ a tall, fair young man aged -about thirty shouted.</p> - -<p>“‘I won’t.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then let the women stand aside.’</p> - -<p>“‘We will not,’ said they.</p> - -<p>“Tisza retired a few steps and put the revolver -down.</p> - -<p>“‘Now what do you want?’ said he.</p> - -<p>“‘You are the cause of the war.’</p> - -<p>“‘I know what the war has done to us, and I -know how much blood has flowed; but I am not the -cause of it.’</p> - -<p>“‘I have been a soldier for four years. Innumerable -families have perished because of your wickedness. -Now you must pay for it.’</p> - -<p>“‘I am not the cause of it.’</p> - -<p>“‘Let the women stand aside!’ No answer. ‘It -is you who have brought this awful catastrophe -about, and now the day of reckoning has come.’</p> - -<p>“Three shots were fired. Tisza fell forward on -the carpet. He was hit by two bullets: one in the -shoulder, the other in the abdomen. The third -grazed the cheek of Denise Almássy.</p> - -<p>“‘They have killed me,’ said Tisza; ‘God’s will -be done.’</p> - -<p>“While the victim was writhing in agony the -soldiers hurried away. It is not known to what -regiment they belonged.”</p> - -<p>Thus far the reporter’s account. My mother -looked at me interrogatively for an instant and then -shook her head sadly.</p> - -<p>“Something has been omitted from that account. -It all sounds very improbable. Hungarian soldiers -don’t kill in the presence of women.”</p> - -<p>“It is a psychological impossibility,” I said; -“such an account can have sprung only from the -imagination of a Budapest reporter. Soldiers from -the front would not talk politics if they wanted to -kill. They might have rushed in and stabbed Tisza, -but such a cold-blooded, cowardly, premeditated -murder is not in the nature of Hungarians. It must -have been very different.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p> - -<p>“However it was,” my mother sighed, “it is -terrible to think that it could happen. Poor Countess -Tisza!”</p> - -<p>A short notice at the foot of the paper said something -about her—Count Michael Károlyi had sent her -the following telegram: “It is my human duty to -express my deep sympathy over the tragical death -of my greatest political opponent.”</p> - -<p>My mother was horrified at this.</p> - -<p>“How could he be so shameless as to intrude like -that!”</p> - -<p>Indeed, this impudence sounded like a sneer at -Tisza’s memory, and in any case it was wanton -cruelty to the faithful, heroic woman who knew full -well that for many years Károlyi had with cruel -hatred incited the masses against her husband.</p> - -<p>The origin of this hatred was deep and irreparable, -for it sprang not from a divergence of ideas but from -the physical disparities which resulted from Károlyi’s -infirmities. Michael Károlyi, a stunted degenerate -afflicted with a cleft palate, a haughty, hopelessly -conceited, spoilt and unintelligent child of fortune, -could never forgive the simple nobleman Tisza that -he was gifted, strong, clean and healthy, every inch -a man, powerful, and in power. It was the hatred -of envious deformity for strength, health and success. -Those about him, for ends of their own, made -capital out of this. Some of his satellites reported -several of his utterances on this subject. In fact -Károlyi made no secret of his hatred for Tisza.</p> - -<p>Many times he was heard to assert that he would -not rest till he had ruined him. Could he have done -so, he would have sent his telegram of condolence to -the widow of his “greatest political opponent” at -an earlier date, namely when the discussion of the -new standing order of the Hungarian parliament -took place. On that occasion he challenged the -half blind Tisza, who was about to undergo an -operation, to a duel in the same week when he, Tisza, -had already fought two others, one against Count -Aladár Széchényi, the other against the Markgrave -Pallavicini. On this occasion Károlyi’s hatred was -fanned to a white heat, for Tisza, a master of fence, -assessed his adversary no more seriously on the -duelling ground than in politics: he played for a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -little with him and finally thrashed him with the -flat of his sword till he collapsed.</p> - -<p>Idly I turned the paper. Another notice attracted -my attention: “In the name of the National Council -Count Michael Károlyi, Dr. Joseph Pogány and -Louis Magyar order that on the first of November -all theatres of Budapest shall give gala performances.”</p> - -<p>Gala performances! Budapest and all Hungarian -towns to be beflagged! And Hungary struggling in -agony and Stephen Tisza on the catafalque!... -A wave of indescribable bitterness swept over me. -Oh! that I could escape from it all and leave it far -behind me!</p> - -<p>It was strange that at such a moment I could hear -the hissing of the damp wood in the fireplace and -could see that Alback’s little old portrait was -hanging crooked on the wall. I got up and put it -straight. Out of doors the mist was drifting. -Drops condensed on the window and trickled slowly -down. The mist was noiselessly shedding tears over -miles and miles.</p> - -<p>When I left my mother’s room I met my brother -Béla in the hall. He stood with his back to me, -staring fixedly out into the mist. His sword with the -belt twisted round it and his officer’s cap lay on the -table. The cockade of the cap was still in its place.</p> - -<p>I looked at him silently for some moments, and a -deep pity filled me. He too was one of the hundreds -of thousands. For him it was even worse than for -us.... As a lieutenant of reserve he joined his -regiment of lancers on the first of August, 1914. -Since then he had served with many branches of the -service, often in the infantry, till at last, after long -years of war, he was invalided home gravely ill from -under Jamiano. On the banks of the Drava, in -Przemysl, the battle of Lemberg, the wintry Carpathians, -Besarabia, and that hell of rocks the Carso—the -road of many Hungarian deaths, of much -Hungarian honour. He had traversed it from end -to end. And now he stood here, like an old man, -looking into the fog, with his sword lying idle.</p> - -<p>Only when I called him by name did he notice -that I was in the room, and as he turned I noticed -that his coat dangled as if it were hanging on a -skeleton.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp48" id="illus06" style="max-width: 28.125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus06.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">COUNT MICHAEL KÁROLYI.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_26"><i>To face p. 26.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span></p> - -<p>On his drawn face deep lines extended to the corners -of his mouth. He seemed highly strung and started -to say one thing, then stopped and said something -else. “I started for town but could not stand the -walk so I came back.” While he spoke I felt that he -was thinking of something else all the time. Suddenly -he collapsed into a chair, his elbows on the -table. “There, in Pest, deserters and demagogues. -They have suspended me, and shirking defeatists are -the leaders and laugh at us. The new government -glorifies cowardice and dishonour. We have come -to this. Why, then, what was the good of it all?” -Through his voice spoke the voice of four years’ -suffering, and a tear trickled down his pallid cheeks. -Suddenly he stretched out his thin hand for his cap, -and looked eagerly with bent head at the cockade on -it. “They won’t tear mine off.” He stopped -abruptly and looked up to me: “You have heard -what happened yesterday in Hermina road?”</p> - -<p>“I know.”</p> - -<p>He got up and returned to the garden door, and -motionless stared out into the fog.</p> - -<p>In the evening a neighbouring farmer came over. -He was a faithful old friend of ours, and now, in his -own simple way, he tried to give proof of his -devotion, as if to offer reparation for the wrongs we -had suffered. He asked us if we wanted any -vegetables. “Just say the word, there are a few -left in our garden.” And his thoughtful kindness -impressed me more with the change that had taken -place in our social order than any annoying brutality -of the street could have done.</p> - -<p>Then we talked of other things. He spoke of -Tisza and told us with many lamentations that they -were still shooting in town, and that soldiers terrorised -the people from big motor lorries. One railway -station had been pillaged. Another was on fire, so -a man told him who had just been there. The military -stores had been stormed by the mob. Barrels -of petrol were rolled into the street, smashed, and -the petrol set on fire as it poured out.</p> - -<p>Soon after the farmer left us, the door bell rang, -and my brothers and sisters came, one after the other, -up the garden path. Whenever the door was opened -the mist floated in from the darkness like smoke, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -the new arrivals stamped on the mat for a moment -or two to rid themselves of the mud. Slowly we -gathered round our mother like birds in a storm.</p> - -<p>A fire was burning in the hall, its light playing -over the beamed roof, glinting here and there from -the oak staircase which rose high against the wall. -It came and went, flared up a little, flickered, and -then died down.</p> - -<p>When daylight had disappeared from the -mullioned panes of the window the shaded lamp was -lit on the round table. My mother prepared tea, -just as if things were as they used to be, when we -came home chilled. Then she sat down in her usual -place, in the corner of the green velvet couch. -Above her, on the wall, was a fine old etching. It -was an old friend of my childhood, full of stories—<i>Le -garde de chasse</i>. How I loved to look at it on Sunday -afternoons when it hung in my grandmother’s -room! Since then its old mistress had gone, so had -her room—indeed the very house had been demolished. -The picture alone remained. In the -foreground on the edge of a wood, with raised fists -and a huge gun on his shoulder, stands the aged -keeper, in an old fashioned beaver and high shirt -collar. Cowed and cringing are two little children, -who have been caught in the act of stealing firewood. -And now while the voices of my brothers were -humming in my ears I was struck by something I -had never noticed before. How this picture had -gone out of date! Justice has altered. Nowadays -the law of “mine, thine, his” is proclaimed in a -new shape.</p> - -<p>Thine—is mine, his—is ours! This is the teaching -of the new leaders of the people and the foundation -of their power. For many thousands of years the -crowd has learned nothing with such ease, and -nothing has ever made it the slaves of its masters -with greater speed.</p> - -<p>Involuntarily I glanced at the opposite wall. -Another picture was over the other couch: a cheap, -coloured engraving of Ofen-Pest, the ancient little -town. People still passed across the Danube by the -floating bridge; in its narrow little streets real red, -white, and green flags were floating, and in their -shadow Louis Kossuth and Alexander Petöfi made a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -real war for freedom. How all this has changed!</p> - -<p>The kettle was singing, and from the fireplace a -pleasant warmth, scented with the smell of pine-wood, -penetrated the room. The silver and the cut -glass shone on the white tablecloth. I sat snugly in -the armchair. Here things were still as of old, and -I felt a glow of gratitude towards the home which -now was no more taken for granted but appeared as -an island amid the flood.</p> - -<p>Did the others feel this too? I looked round. All -were unusually silent. Now and then someone said -a word which fell like a pebble in a silent pond. -Worry was written on all faces. During the long -war, among the many terrible misfortunes, I had -never noticed despair in my family. We never gave -up hope. Our faith that Hungary would survive -whatever happened had never altered.</p> - -<p>“She has been betrayed!” And we returned to -the fate of Tisza. We decided between us that we -would all go to his funeral. But when will it be? -Nobody knew. My mother had been sitting for a -long time silently in her corner when she said in a -low voice, as if speaking to herself:</p> - -<p>“They killed him ... killed him. They knew what -they did. They have bereft the nation of its head.”</p> - -<p>We looked at each other.</p> - -<p>“And the guilty have escaped without leaving a -trace.... At any rate, they would not have been -hurt—the triumphing revolution will provide for all -eventualities by a general amnesty.” My brother -took up the newspaper. “Have you read this? -By request of the National Council the Ministry of -Justice has ordered by telegram that all those who -are arrested or imprisoned for high treason, lèse -majesté, rebellion, violence against the authorities -or against private individuals, or incitement to -violence, should be released at once!”</p> - -<p>The new government could not have pronounced -a graver indictment of itself. This amnesty was a -free confession of its ends, its means and its guilt. -From this moment Michael Károlyi and his National -Council appeared to us in the rôle of the accused at -the bar of judgment.</p> - -<p>“Criminals,” said my brother-in-law. “Here in -Pest they have anticipated the ordinance. Two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -days ago they set free the Galileists accused of high -treason.”</p> - -<p>“It is said that Countess Károlyi herself went to -fetch them.”</p> - -<p>“Yesterday they liberated in triumph all the -deserters.... Only a few hours before the assassination -of Stephen Tisza a commission came with -the written order of the National Council to the jail -to free all political prisoners, and as the order put -it, “all deserving prisoners.” The first to rush out -of the prison was Lékai-Leitner, the man who -recently made an attempt on Tisza’s life. He addressed -a speech to the assembled mob and explained -without being interfered with why the principal -contriver of the war, Tisza, should be killed. -“Let him perish!” he shouted, and the mob -cheered while he, protected by the police, incited -his comrades in the street to murder.”</p> - -<p>“Károlyi’s National Council must have known of -that. Yet they did nothing to protect Tisza. A few -hours later his assassins could destroy him without -fear of interruption.”</p> - -<p>I thought of Marat’s saying to Barbaroux: “Give -me four hundred assassins and I will make the revolution.” -... Into the hands of what a crowd have -fallen the fates both of our country and ourselves! -High treason and rebellion are no longer crimes, -violence is lawful, incitement to it permissible. -Assassins can exercise their trade without punishment, -and there is no place where one can claim -justice. I staggered under the confusing thoughts. -I seemed to have lived through something like this -once before. Many years ago, on a hot, close -summer night, I was awakened by a violent shock. -The room swayed, the house tilted backwards and -forwards, everything tottered, cracked, collapsed. -An earthquake! And when I wanted to grasp something -it gave way, moved from its place; nothing -seemed firm.... “Let us fly!” ... A mad -voice shouted it through the night.... Fly? On -such occasions there is no place whither flight -is possible; for miles and miles the earth quakes.</p> - -<p>Presently, in order to encourage my mother, I said -aloud:</p> - -<p>“Everything is not lost yet. The troops will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -come back from the front. They will restore order. -Those who have fought there will not tolerate the -rule of deserters and shirkers at home.”</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately Károlyi’s agents have gone to -meet them at the front,” said my brother-in-law. -“And they have taken with them an ample supply -of the government’s newspapers.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile out of doors the fog became as dense -as if a morass had swollen up in the valleys. It -clung about the windows and coated the panes. My -brothers and sisters prepared to go. When we took -leave we agreed that as we could hope at any rate -for a little more safety in town than here, we would -move in as soon as we could procure the necessary -vans. The villa stood in a lonely spot among -abandoned houses; only my sister Mary, and, on -the other side of the ravine, the farmer, lived on the -hill besides ourselves. And the woods were full of -vagabonds.</p> - -<p>“It will be safer....”</p> - -<p>“It will be equally unsafe everywhere in Hungary,” -I said while I put my coat on to accompany them a -short distance.</p> - -<p>When we reached the bottom of the hill shots -broke the silence. Rifles answered them, and their -echo rolled on between the hills. A white dog, -frightened to death, rushed past me like an arrow, -his tail between his legs, and his ears pressed -tightly back. The caretaker of one of the empty -villas, an old Swabian gardener, stood in the gate, -smoking his pipe and watching the road.</p> - -<p>“Himmelsakrament!... The Russians have -escaped from the prisoners’ camp, that’s what people -say in the shop. Goodness knows what is going to -happen to us....”</p> - -<p>“False alarms,” I said as I passed.</p> - -<p>The firing increased every moment.</p> - -<p>“Mother will fret,” said my sister Mary. We -took leave of the others and turned back.</p> - -<p>Beyond the Devil’s Ditch, where the road starts up -the hill, two bullets whistled over our heads. They -must have come from the bushes near by, for we -could smell the powder. In front of us a human -form emerged from the fog. “That one went too -low,” he muttered. “God guarded me so that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -missed me.” The stranger had a big collar and -wore a soldier’s cap. He might have been a non-commissioned -officer. “Can one get newspapers -down there by the electric tram?” he asked, touching -his cap.</p> - -<p>“No, they don’t sell papers to-day.”</p> - -<p>The man turned back, and, leaning heavily on his -stick climbed the hill slowly behind us. He never -spoke, but sighed now and then, and one of his -boots tapped curiously on the pavement. Through -my thoughts I had heard the tapping for some time -before I realized that the poor fellow had an artificial -leg.</p> - -<p>“It was all in vain,” he exclaimed unexpectedly, -and his voice sounded even duller than before. I -could not see his face, but somehow I felt that this -man with a wooden leg was weeping in the dark. -That made me think of my brother, and of the -others, the cripples, the blind, the sick, the maimed, -who all say to-day with a lump in their throat: “it -was in vain....”</p> - -<p>When I reached our garden another shot passed -over my head. I pressed myself against the trunk -of a tree and waited a little. I seemed to hear my -heart beating in the tree. The danger passed by and -I went on. The lighted windows of the house shone -gently upon the path and beckoned to me, just as -they had done the day before, just as they had done -on any day when my steps took me home.</p> - -<p>When I entered the house I found boxes and -trunks in the hall, and my mother was packing. -She was putting boxes tied with lilac ribbon into -the trunks, her own dear old belongings which she -had treasured with so much love throughout a long -life. Indefatigable, she went to and fro. She bent -down, brought another object, never complaining -and astonishingly calm.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the fire on the hearth went out, and the -sticky air of the night penetrated through the -shutters. The dining-room had become very cold -too. We did not dare to make fires: our wood in -the cellar was running short and should we fail in -our attempt to hire a van, who knew how long we -might have to stay here?</p> - -<p>Later on I went up into my room and collected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -my papers. All the time I could hear my mother’s -steps down below: it was a step that I could recognise -among a thousand others. It always sounds -as though she drags one of her feet slightly, but she -does not do so really, it only sounds like it, and it -gives her gait a kind of swaying rhythm. I love to -hear it, for it always reminds me of my childhood. -Whenever I dreamed anything frightful in my little -truckle bed that step would come slowly across the -room, and even before it reached me all that was -terrifying had disappeared.</p> - -<p>On the ground floor a cupboard was opened: the -noise sounded like a sigh; then drawers were gliding -in and out. Beyond the garden the dogs barked. -Now and then violent outbursts of firing rent the -hills. But even then my mother’s steps never -stopped. I could hear them passing quietly backwards -and forwards between the trunks in the hall -and her room.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>Dawn of November 2nd.</i></p> - -<p>It was long after midnight before my mother’s -door closed. I hung a silk handkerchief over the -lamp so that its light might not be seen from outside -and then I went through the letters accumulated -on my writing-table. Suddenly a bell rang in the -hall. The telephone.... Who could call so late? -What has happened? I ran quickly down the stairs. -An unfamiliar voice spoke to me from the unknown. -A terrified, strange voice:</p> - -<p>“Save yourself! The Russian prisoners have -escaped from their camp. Three thousand of them -are coming armed. They kill, rob and pillage. -They are coming towards the town. They are -coming this way....”</p> - -<p>“But....” I wanted to express my thanks, but -the voice ceased and was gone. It must have gone -on, panting, to awaken and warn the other inhabitants -of lonely houses. For an instant my imagination -followed the voice as it ran breathless along the -wires in the night and shouted its alarm to the -sleeping, the waking, the cowardly, the brave. It -comes nameless, goes nameless, waits for no thanks, -flies on the torn wings of shattered, despised human -fellowship.</p> - -<p>The Russians are coming....</p> - -<p>I stood irresolute for a time in the cold passage. -What should I do? Every moment life seemed to -present new problems. From the dark hall I listened -for any sound from my mother’s room and looked to -see if a light appeared under her door. But all was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -in darkness. Should I call her, tell her? What -good would it be? I walked slowly up the stairs. -There was no sound from the room of my brother, -who was very ill. They both sleep.... It is better -so. At any rate, it would be impossible for us to -descend that soaked, slippery mountain path in the -night. And if we could, where should we go? Fly? -They said that when there was an earthquake. But -where can one find shelter when the earth is quaking -everywhere?</p> - -<p>When I reached my room I breathed more freely. -The lamp was alight, so at least I was spared the -addition of more darkness to that already in my -heart.</p> - -<p>From the covered lamp a ray like that of a thief’s -lantern fell on the table. I sat down in front of it -and rested my head in my hands, a dull weariness -behind my brow. It was some time before I overcame -this lassitude, and then four words formed -themselves on my lips: ‘The Russians are coming....’ -The past was stirred, and I remembered -the day when I had first heard those words....</p> - -<p>Hungary did not want war. When it came she -faced it honourably, as she had always done for a -thousand years.... In their black Sunday best -peasants went through the town. The heels of their -high boots resounded sharply on the pavement.... -Young women in bright petticoats, with tears in -their eyes, walked hand in hand with their sweethearts, -from whom they were about to be parted; -old women in shawls, with their handsome sons. -Then—the Russians are coming!... That was all -that was said. But those four words foretold an -immense upheaval, coming from the North. The -greater half of Europe, part of mysterious dark Asia, -moved from their ancient abodes and with a sea of -guns and rifles rushed on towards the Carpathians -to devour Europe. They poured like an avalanche -over the mountain passes, while Humanity held its -breath. Such a battle of peoples had never been -before.</p> - -<p>Years went by. On the Russian fields and -swamps, along the Volga and the Don, from the -Urals to the Caucasus, on the endless plains of Asia, -the nations that had risen in arms were bleeding to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -death. The empire of the White Czar had bled to -death, and that which was left of it became Red, -dyed in its own blood....</p> - -<p>Summer had come many times since the tragic -summer of 1914 when the first boys went who never -came back again. Dear features now still in death, -playmates of my childhood, dead friends of my -youth. At the foot of Lublin, on the fields of -Sanatova, in the Dukla Pass, among the Polish -swamps, in Serbian land, at the Asiago, everywhere -flowed blood which was akin to mine. Dead shoots -of my ancestral tree! And as you went, so did others -too, from year to year, without reprieve. Then the -call came to the school-rooms and to the sunny -corridors where the aged basked, resting before the -eternal rest, from the labours of life.</p> - -<p>There was practically not a man nor a youth left -in the villages. The black soil was tilled by women, -and women gathered the harvest.</p> - -<p>Springs were conceived in pain. Summers -brought forth their harvests in tears. In the -autumnal mists the withered hands of tottering old -men held the plough as it followed the silver-grey -long-horned oxen. A carriage might travel many -miles without passing a single man at work in the -fields. All were under foreign skies—or under -foreign soil, while the panic-stricken towns were -invaded by hordes of Galician fugitives. A new -type of buyer appeared in the markets, on the -Exchange. The Ghetto of Pest was thronged. -Goods disappeared and prices began to soar. Misery -stalked with a subdued wail through the land, while -the new rich rattled their gold impudently. A part -of the aristocracy and the wealth-laden Jewry danced -madly in the famished towns, amidst a weeping -land.</p> - -<p>Now and then dark news came from the distant -tempest of blood. Now and then flags of victory -were unfurled and the church bells rang for the -Te Deum. One morning the flags were of a black -hue, and the church bells tolled for death: The King -is dead!... Long live the King!</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus07" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus07.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">KING CHARLES.</p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Kosel, Vienna.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_36"><i>To face p. 36.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The old ruler closed his eyes after a long watch, -and the reins of the two countries fell from his aged -hands. In Vienna: an imperial funeral and imperial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -mourning; in Buda: a coronation shining with the -lustre of ancient gold. The clouds had broken! -With his veiled, white-faced wife the young King -passed like a vision through his royal town.</p> - -<p>But it was all a dream. The King was in a hurry. -In vain did his people proffer their devotion at the -gate of his castle: he was incapable of grasping the -moment, and departed before he had gathered this -royal treasure. So the wind scattered the despised -love of the nation. Something froze under the -Hungarian sky, and in chilled soberness the morrow -dawned.</p> - -<p>In those times the winters were cold in Hungary. -They froze one to the marrow as they had never -done before. There was scarcely any fuel. Along -the walls of the houses in Pest, children, girls, and -old people thronged at the entrance to the coal -merchants. They sat on the edge of the pavement, -shivered and waited. At the horse-butchers, at the -communal shops, in front of bakers’, and dairymen’s, -long rows of sad women waited from dawn till late -into the night. Quiet, patient women ... waiting.... -Everybody was waiting—for life, for death, -for news, for somebody to return. The hospitals were -overcrowded, and all through the land, from one -end to the other, the roads resounded with the -wooden clatter of crutches.</p> - -<p>That was the once happy Hungary! But hope -and honour were still alive. Our war was a war of -self-defence. Perhaps we, of all the combatants, had -nothing to gain, had no ambition to take anything -from any other country.</p> - -<p>But our corrupt politics had lost a greater struggle -than a battle. Personal hatred and envy brought -about the downfall of Stephen Tisza, and the helm -came into inexperienced hands. The power which had -steered till then ceased to be, and while men of the -Great Plain, Transylvania, Upper Hungary and -West Hungary were away on the distant battle-fields, -in honour bound, something happened in the crowded -capital of the empty country.</p> - -<p>Traces of the silent, clandestine work of undermining -became gradually perceptible. But before -its threads could be clearly defined they faded away -and were absorbed by daily life. In the background,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -as on a stage, sinister shapes passed. From the sides -invisible prompters whispered, and in the foreground -there appeared a figure which day by day grew more -distinct. This figure kept repeating, louder and -louder, the secret promptings, as though they were -his very own.</p> - -<p>That man was Count Michael Károlyi.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I shivered as I pondered these things. Then some -noise outside interrupted my thoughts and I remembered -the night’s warning.... Hours may have -passed since I sat down at my writing-table. The -light of my shaded lamp fell in a narrow wedge -on to the sheet of paper in front of me, my head was -still between my hands.</p> - -<p>What was that?... Again the same noise. -Then suddenly with relief I realized what it was. -Near my window some mortar from the tiles had -rolled from the roof into the gutter, quietly, like a -shiver passing over the lonely house. I listened for -some time, then I buried my face again in my hands -and my thoughts wandered back by the path of -recent events, picking up on the way fading memories -which had been thrown to oblivion.</p> - -<p>The picture of our great past was grand and full -of dignity. Details stood out. Scenes gained colour. -The expression of people’s faces became clearer, and -now and then one could look behind the veil of -things. That which was far away had become history, -whereas the present was warm, throbbing, human -life.</p> - -<p>How did it happen? And when? At the time -train after train was rolling across Hungary, long -military trains, carrying the troops from the freed -Russian frontier towards the Italian and French -fronts. The end of the war had never seemed nearer. -The hope of victory carried all hearts with it. Even -the prophets of evil portent became mute, and the -possibility of an honest peace appeared like a -mirage on the horizon. The frontiers of Hungary will -not change: that was our only condition of peace—we -have never wanted anything else. And then the -road will be clear for the second thousand years.</p> - -<p>But then, all of a sudden, a shining blade seemed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -to pierce the air. There was a flash of light, and the -light lit up a new wound. What had happened. -Who had caused it?</p> - -<p>In the first days of January some people unknown -had introduced revolutionary literature into the -arsenals and munition factories. “Workers!... -Brethren!... Soldier-brothers!... Not a -penny, not a man for the army!” Those who had -an opportunity of reading these pamphlets could -have no doubt that they were produced by people -who were opposed to Hungary’s interests. What we -imagined in horror had become a reality. A foe was -in our midst and was attempting to achieve here -what he had failed to accomplish on the other side of -the front. Who are the guilty? The nation, fighting -for life, clamoured indignantly for the mask to be -torn off them. And when the mask was torn off they -stood there in the light, with blinking eyes, caught -in the act: a pseudo-scientific organisation of the -Freemasons,<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> the International Freethinkers’ branch of -Hungarian Higher Schools, and the Circle of Galilee -with its almost exclusively Jewish membership.</p> - -<p>Others, who were equally implicated, withdrew -suddenly into the obscurity of the background. As -far as he was concerned, however, Michael Károlyi -thought caution superfluous. He continued to -remain in the foreground of the scene; and though -doubtful strangers sneaked through the entrance of -his palace, nobody interfered with him. Even the -police left him alone, though it knew full well that -when the revolutionary documents were drawn up -he had been in close contact with the Galileist youths, -and had even spent many hours in their office. He -was observed from a neighbouring house. But invisible -powers protected Michael Károlyi, and it -was said that his confidential friends in official -positions always informed him in time when his -position was becoming dangerous.</p> - -<p>Public opinion became nervous in those times, and -waited with impatience for retribution. The headquarters<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -of the Galilee Circle was sealed up by the -police. Arrests were made. Then the names of some -of the accused reached the public through the doors -of the secret court—names with a striking sound. -Even now I remember some of them: Helen -Duczynska, Theodor Singer-Sugár, Herman Helfgott, -Csillag-Stern, Kelen-Klein, Fried, Weiss, Sisa, -Ignace Beller, and about three more Russian Jews, -among them a prisoner of war called Solom, who -possessed a multiplicator. There wasn’t a single -Hungarian among them. Obscure foreign hands -had fumbled at our destiny! But nobody spoke of -that. And yet the very names of the arrested -Galileists were an indication of future events. Alas! -the Hungarian nation has never known how to interpret -the future by the warnings of the present.</p> - -<p>The trial of the Galileists came to an end: the -court martial inflicted two remarkably lenient -sentences and acquitted the rest. That was all. -Then there followed silence, a silence similar to the -one which in the autumn of 1917 hid Károlyi’s journey -to Switzerland and stifled the whispers that he had -betrayed there to the French the German offensive -which was preparing and had hobnobbed with -Syndicalists and Bolshevists. Only when the sailors -of Cattaro revolted was there another commotion. -Notwithstanding the secrecy of the army command, -rumours got about. The batman of a high officer -brought a letter sewn in the lining of his coat.</p> - -<p>Down there in the Gulf of Cattaro the fleet had -mutinied. Michael Horthy, the hero of the Novarro, -suppressed the rising and saved the fleet for the -Monarchy. But in the embers of the extinguished -fire the army command found curious footprints. It -was alleged that two telegrams of the mutineers -were intercepted. One was addressed to Trotski, -the other to Michael Károlyi.</p> - -<p>And again, nothing was done! Political consideration.... -Great names are involved.... The King -won’t have it.... The time is not propitious....</p> - -<p>It was about this time that I reminded Count -Stephen Tisza of a letter which I had received -through Switzerland in the autumn of 1914, and -which I had shown him at the time. The letter -arrived approximately at the same time as Michael<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -Károlyi, whom mobilisation had found on French -soil. According to this letter the French had good -reasons for sending Károlyi home. <i>He was to be -well rewarded if he did his work well ... he might -even become the President of the Hungarian -Republic.</i> Stephen Tisza only shook his head: -“You see phantoms. It would be a pity to make -a martyr of him.”</p> - -<p>It was a long time ago. Much has become blurred -since then, but I still feel the bitterness of that -moment.</p> - -<p>And all the other politicians thought as Tisza did. -They did not take Michael Károlyi seriously, because -they did not see those who were behind him. The -attention of public opinion was absorbed by other -things. Every day life became more difficult, and -far away in Brest-Litovsk peace negotiations were -going on. The delegates of the Russians dragged out -the negotiations cunningly, and the German command, -losing patience, rattled its sword at the council table. -Meanwhile Bronstein-Trotski, the Foreign Commissioner -of the Soviet, addressed inciting speeches -over the heads of our delegates—to our soldiers, our -workmen.</p> - -<p>At home these speeches created a curious stir. As -if they had been a signal the Jewish press of Hungary -began to attack our German allies. The “dispersed” -Circle of Galilee organised a demonstration in front -of the German Consulate and broke its windows. -The co-religionists of the Trotskis, Radeks and -Joffes organised strikes by means of the trade union -headquarters, which they had under their control. -Thus did they support the interests of their Russian -friends and weaken the position of our delegates.</p> - -<p>During the strike Michael Károlyi, walking one day -with his wife in the city, met one of their -relations who lived in the suburbs and asked him -anxiously, “Are the people rising out there?” The -negative answer depressed them. “It does not -matter.... The day has not yet come.... But -we shall not escape revolution.”</p> - -<p>Louder and louder came the whispers out of the -darkness: we had come to a phase when words -could do the work. And words began to agitate: -“Only a separate peace can save us from the revolution....<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -We must leave the Germans to their -fate.... They are the cause of everything.... -The war goes on because of them.... Alsace -Lorraine....” Invisible lips uttered these things -with persistent consistency. Unknown voices spoke -to those who repeated their sayings. And far away -from the fields of battle, in the country’s capital, in -the workshops and the barracks, quietly, secretly, -the earth began to quake.</p> - -<p>And yet the front was never stronger than at this -period of the war. After the Ukrainian and Russian -peace, these were perhaps the last moments which -permitted us to hope for a possible peace, if only we -showed unity and resolution. But in these fateful -days some mischievous magic lantern flashed the -picture of a weakening alliance with Germany, of -internal discord and risings, towards our adversaries, -and these pictures inspired them with new zeal. At -home it became more and more clear that we -harboured men who ate the bread of our soil under -the protection of Hungarian soldiers, who drank the -water of our wells and slept peacefully, whilst -putting forth every possible effort to make us lose -the war.</p> - -<p>If I remember rightly it was at this time that -Károlyi’s political camp began to spread the rumour -that he had come into touch with leaders of the -Entente. Poincaré had once been the lawyer of the -Károlyi family.... Stories circulated. Others -again knew that he had connections with Trotski -and that he had organised secret military councils -in the smaller towns round the capital.</p> - -<p>“The traitor!”</p> - -<p>While we in my family called him a traitor, the -radical press raised him to the dignity of a prophet, -and the misguided masses saw in him the saviour of -the country.</p> - -<p>The freemasons, socialists, feminists and galileists -stood behind him. Some female members of his -own family surrounded him like disciples and repeated -without discrimination everything he proclaimed. -That which would have brought a trooper -to the gallows was freely said by Michael Károlyi the -officer. In the clubs gentlemen shook hands with -him, and society thought it original and amusing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -that he should have called his little daughter -Bolshevik Eve. The haughty Count Károlyi, who -would not have offered a seat to his bailiff and who -during the war—well behind the front—refused to -shake hands with infantry officers who came, covered -with blood and mud, from the trenches, because “<i>ils -n’etaient pas de famille</i>,” now declaimed about -democracy and equality, and made Bolshevism -fashionable among his younger female relatives!</p> - -<p>In this inner circle his influence reached such -ridiculous proportions that a lady of his intimate -acquaintance exclaimed in her democratic zeal: -“Oh, I do love the rabble!” His wife’s relations, -following his teachings, poked fun at patriotism, -raved about the Internationale, and wore some -travesty of a dress because it had been dubbed -“Bolshevik” fashion. Of course it was “only in -play,” but it was a dangerous game, for it covered -those who wore Bolshevik fashions in earnest.</p> - -<p>The young King was full of the best intentions. -Perhaps he saw the danger, but he drew back when -he ought to have excised the source of infection -spread by Károlyi’s friends. In Austria he granted -an amnesty and released from prison the Czech -traitors. The Austrian people, once so devoted to -their Emperor, became indifferent.... In Hungary -he ordered judicial proceedings to be commenced -against the traitors, but did not insist on their being -carried out. Thus it happened that the Hungarian -people, in an agony concerning the fate of their -country, felt themselves forsaken and regarded their -King with disappointment and bitter reproaches; -while the dark forces, gathering encouragement from -this eternal indecision, were emboldened to come -out into the sunlight. Thus a bloodless war against -Hungary was started in Hungary.</p> - -<p>In the West the successful great German offensive -shook for a time the camp of destruction. The successes -of our allies were received by Károlyi with fear -and trembling. His wife went into hysterics and his -confidential newspaper editor, Baron Louis Hatvany, -exclaimed sadly in my presence:</p> - -<p>“No greater misfortune can befall us than a -German victory. Russian Bolshevism is a thousand -times preferable to German Militarism.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span></p> - -<p>It was as if the earth had opened in front of me -when I heard these words. I remember my reply:</p> - -<p>“German militarism goes armed against armed -men; Russian Bolshevism goes armed against unarmed -people. That may please you better. As for -me, I prefer militarism.”</p> - -<p>At this time the voice of the Hungarian Radical -press was the same as that of Baron Hatvany. The -same press which at the beginning of the war -blackguarded our enemies shamefully, now wrote of -them sentimentally. The same papers which, when -the Russian invasion was threatening, cringed repulsively -before the German power, now kicked the -wounded giant fearlessly.</p> - -<p>For Germany was stricken now. The offensive -came to a standstill. Contradictory reports spread. -And while our enemies prepared with burning patriotism -for the sublime effort, underhand peace talk was -heard in Hungary, and Károlyi—through his friends—acclaimed -pacifism and internationalism. The Radical -press was triumphant. Not content with attacking -the alliance it attacked that which was Hungarian -as well. Nothing was sacred. It threw mud at -Tisza’s clean name. It derided all that was precious -to the nation. Base calumnies were spread about -the Queen.</p> - -<p>The overthrow of authority and of traditions are -the necessary preliminaries to the destruction of a -nation.</p> - -<p>With such evil omens came the fifth summer of -war, which brought the fifth bad harvest. In the -West, the German front retreated unresistingly. -In the East, the storm of the Russian Revolution -was blowing over the Carpathians. Our fronts were -infected with Károlyi’s agitators. Those who were -caught paid the penalty. Yet there were enough -well-paid poisoners of wells who slipped through. -Their work was easy: the West provided gold, the -East the example. The infection spread....</p> - -<p>The collapse of Germany’s power, the many old -sins of the Austrian higher command, the catastrophe -that befell our army at the Piave, the bitterness for -the disproportionate blood sacrifice of the Hungarians, -the anti-Hungarian spirit of the Austrian -military element, the endless squabbles of our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -politicians, the blindness of our impotent government—all -these served those who, to Hungary’s misfortune, -aspired to power.</p> - -<p>Bad news came fast. In Arad, in Nagyvárad, -some detachments mutinied and refused obedience. -Revolutionary papers were found in the barracks. -In Budapest the working masses became threateningly -restless; near the communal food-shops and -other stores the waiting crowd was no longer -patient and silent. I stopped often at the edge of -the pavement and listened to what they said. The -shabby, waiting rows of tired people struggled for -hours between two wedges. In the shop the -profiteers sucked their life blood; in the street paid -agitators incited them cunningly, clandestinely -against “the gentle-folk.” “It all depends on us -how long we stand it. After all we are the majority, -not they.”</p> - -<p>The crowd approved and failed to notice that the -Semitic race was only to be found at the two ends -of the queue, and that not a single representative of -it could be seen as a buyer among the crowding, the -poor, and the starving.... This was symbolical, a -condensed picture of Budapest. The sellers, the -agitators, were Jews. The buyers and the misguided -were the people of the capital.</p> - -<p>A carriage passed in the middle of the road. A -pale, sickly woman sat in it. The waiting row of -people growled angrily towards the carriage: Cannot -this one walk like everybody else? Unpleasant -words were spoken. I looked along the line. The -agitators were there no more. But the seed they -had sown grew suddenly ripe. The people talked -excitedly to each other and shouted provocatively -at those who wore a decent coat. “Why should he -have that coat? All that will have to change!” -Envy and hatred distorted the face of the street. A -part of the press was already inciting openly to class-hatred.</p> - -<p>The town was now on the eve of its suicide, and -presently, like a thunderbolt, there fell into the -streets the news that the Bulgarian army had laid -down its arms!</p> - -<p>I well remember that awful day. It was the -twenty-sixth of September. Through the agitated,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -humming town I was going to the funeral of my -little godson. The streets were thronged with people. -As they went along they were all reading newspapers, -and I noticed that they seemed to stagger as -if they had been stunned by some terrific blow. -Harassed faces rushed past me, and only here and -there was some contrast perceptible. I did not -understand it until later....</p> - -<p>Two Jews were talking to each other:</p> - -<p>“At last! <i>Beneidenswertes Volk</i>, these Bulgarians. -They will get good conditions! <i>Prima -Bedingungen!</i> And that is the beginning of peace.”</p> - -<p>They alone seemed to be happy.... And the -sun glittered on the roof-tops and there was something -in the glowing brightness of the early autumn -which reminded me of the waking life of spring, -when I had walked in the same neighbourhood. -When was it? I remembered with a pang. On the -morn of the victory of Gorlice did the sun shine thus, -above the bright-coloured waving flags. And -through my tears I saw suddenly the little dead -golden-headed boy, the hope of his house: little -Andrew Tormay.... He came during the war, he -smiled, and he was gone. His short life ended with -the last world-moving act. But was it the last? Or -was it a new beginning?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A cold shudder ran down my back. Merciful -God, is it not enough? Somewhere a cock crowed and -roused me from my meditations. I took my hands -from my face and rose stiff from beside my table. -The room had become chilled during the long night. -Between the slats of the blind something was painting -with a delicate brush rapid, cold blue lines on -the darkness. Dawn. I looked out for an instant into -the damp, sad half-light and tried to picture the morn. -But the thoughts of the night crowded upon me.</p> - -<p>Some time must have elapsed before I noticed -that I was sitting on the edge of my bed, rigid, -dressed. A jumble of thoughts thronged my -brain.... Since the Bulgarian armistice life -had been one continuous series of shocks, and I -remembered events only with gaps. Big pieces were -missing, then they started again.... Wilson! In<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> -those dark hours this name still soothed our harassed -souls. Disastrous illusion, enticing nations -into a death-trap! Peace ... peace! howled the -voice of this phantom behind the battlefields, -attacking the still resisting armies in the back. -Peace!... Peace! it howled along the fronts. -Then in an aside it added: “There is no peace for -you till you discard your Emperor!” Meanwhile, -in our midst, the camp of Count Michael Károlyi -studied cynically, as if it were a game, the guide-book -of the Russian Revolution. Tisza and -Andrássy became reconciled. Too late, too late....</p> - -<p>Then came a memorable day. Parliament sat on -the 17th of October and the Prime Minister announced -the severance of all community with -Austria, except the personal union of the Sovereign. -Too late, too late.... The aspiration of centuries, -the hope of generations, became a puppet. The -unity of the Empire, dualism, the common army, -were feverishly thrown overboard from the -Monarchy’s drifting airship. The opposition -laughed. One deputy promised a revolution for -March and turning toward Tisza spoke of the -gallows.</p> - -<p>“The parody of a revolution,” answered Tisza -contemptuously.</p> - -<p>Károlyi rose to speak. The storm broke, and one -of his hangers-on, Lovászy, shouted at the House: -“We are friends of the Entente!”</p> - -<p>This was the first open avowal of the treason -which had been committed for years by Károlyi’s -party; the horror of it ran like a shudder through -the House, the city and the land, to pass on as a -slavering mendicant to our enemies. Those who -were honest among us hurled the treason back at -the traitors, that it might brand the foreheads of -those who in the hour of our agony could offer their -friendship to our destroyers. How could the powers -of the Entente feel anything but contempt and disdain -for such an offer! Their generals and -politicians might make use of traitors, but certainly -they would not demean themselves by accepting -their friendship.</p> - -<p>After this disgraceful sitting, in front of the very -gate of the House of Parliament, an attempt was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -made on Count Stephen Tisza’s life. Years before -a deputy called Kovács-Strasser, and now a certain -Lékai-Leiter, raised the weapon against him.</p> - -<p>On October the 22nd Tisza spoke for the last -time in the Commons and declared that we must -stand by our allies. If we had to fall, let us fall together, -honourably. And then his voice, which -never deceived and never lied, told the unfortunate -nation that: “We have lost this war!” ... Amidst -breathless silence the sinister words rang through -the country and, like Death’s scythe, cut down all -hope.</p> - -<p>“Tisza said so....”</p> - -<p>There was no more. And henceforth every new -event was but another mortal wound. Wilson sent -a reply to the Monarchy which implored him for -peace. He would have no intercourse with us, and -referred us to the Czechs, the Roumanians and the -Serbs. They wanted to humiliate us, and humiliate -us they did. But we still had an army, and we clung -to the idea: the Hungarian troops would come -back from the front.</p> - -<p>Before we could recover our breath there came -another stroke. On the 23rd of October a deputy of -the Károlyi party shouted into the sitting House of -Commons that when the King had entered -Debreczen the Austrian National Anthem had been -played. Nobody asked if the news were true. The -song of Austria’s Emperors in the very heart of the -Great Hungarian Plain! Always, even now? Have -they not yet learned, will they never forget?... -Then Károlyi read aloud a telegram which turned -out later to be a forgery: the Croatian regiment in -Fiume had mutinied!—Thus the opposition possessed -itself of two weapons. The reporters in the press -gallery jumped up at once and loudly supported -Károlyi’s camp. The impossible happened: in the -Hungarian Parliament the Radical newspaper men -of the press gallery brought about the fall of the -government! Tisza looked angrily towards the -gallery and made signs to the speaker. What had -become of his authority, the imposing of which had -nearly cost him his life?</p> - -<p>The storm passed by, and after this the ground -gave way quickly under the Hungarian Parliament.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -Wekerle resigned. All parties negotiated a coalition.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the King sat in council at Gödöllö, and -it was about this time that the shifty rabble which -gathered in the night of the 22nd of October at -Károlyi’s palace and dubbed itself the National -Council emerged from darkness. The storm-troops -of destruction, the Galileist Circle, came again to the -fore; headed by a flag which Károlyi had given them -they paraded the town and penetrated into the -Royal Castle. The flag-bearer, a medical student of -Galician origin called Rappaport, stuck the flag out -of one of the castle’s windows and addressed the -rabble in the court yard. He blackguarded the -King and called for cheers for Károlyi and the -Republic.</p> - -<p>Nobody attached any great importance to all this, -and the town remained indifferent: the incident was -practically unknown beyond the streets where the -Galileists’ strange, noisy procession had passed. -Through the gate of Károlyi’s palace furtive people -hurried in and out. Some said that officers and men -escaped from the front were hiding in the palace, -others whispered of secret meetings in the Count’s -rooms.</p> - -<p>What was going on there? Nobody troubled -about it, and the newspapers wrote long articles -about the Spanish “flu.” The epidemic was serious, -people met their friends at funerals, but the newspapers -exaggerated intentionally; they published -alarming statistics and reported that the undertakers -could not cope with the situation: people had -to be buried by torchlight at night. The panic-stricken -crowd could scarcely think of anything else. -The terror of the epidemic was everywhere, and the -greater terror which threatened, the brewing revolution, -was hidden by it. The press, as if working to -order, hypnotised the public with the ghost of the -epidemic while it belittled the misfortunes of the -unfortunate nation and rocked its anxiety to sleep -by raising foolish, false hopes of a good peace, and -gushed over Károlyi’s connections with the Entente.</p> - -<p>And so the big, unwieldy mass of citizens slid towards -the precipice in its sleep.</p> - -<p>There came an awful day. We learned that as the -result of the insidious propaganda of Károlyi’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -agents and his press, a Hungarian division and a -Viennese regiment had laid down their arms.... It -was through this break that the forces of the Entente -had crossed the Piave. Our forces repelled them in -a supreme effort. Then the English tanks came into -play. These were too much for the nerves of our -men, whose discipline had been slackened by several -months’ intrigue. They mutinied, and it was reported -that in the confusion General Wurm was -killed by his own men.</p> - -<p>In Budapest the papers which appeared were -blanked heavily by the exertions of the censor, but -in the streets people already spoke openly of the -National Council and proclaimed loudly that one -could take the oath of allegiance to it at the rooms -of Károlyi’s party. There was an astonishing -number of soldiers in the crowd. I noticed then for -the first time how many sailors walked the streets. -Where did these come from?</p> - -<p>Next day was Sunday, October the 27th. I recollect -clearly that I did not leave the house. Within -the last few days most of the inhabitants of the -villas in our neighbourhood had moved in haste in -to the town. It was quiet, and I pruned the shrubs -in our garden.</p> - -<p>It was only through the newspapers that I learned -what had happened. Advised by Károlyi, the King -had received at Gödöllö the day before the Radical -journalist Oscar Jászi and the two organisers of his -party, Zsigmond Kúnfi and Ernest Garami, both -Socialist journalists. Károlyi’s press was shouting -victory, and having obtained all it wanted, it began -to see red and started to defame the King. Poor -young King! The reception was a sad and useless -concession. These men were revolutionaries and -poisoners whose due was not an audience but a -warrant of arrest. Even now everything could have -been saved, all that was wanted was a fist that -dared to strike. But the King’s beautiful hands, -according to Jászi’s report of the audience, only -toyed nervously with his rings.... Their Majesties -went in the evening to Vienna. They left their -children in the royal castle and took Károlyi with -them in the royal train.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus08" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus08.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">COUNT MICHAEL KÁROLYI AND HIS ENTOURAGE.</p> - <p class="caption">Károlyi <span class="spacer">Böhm</span> Pogány</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_50"><i>To face p. 50.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The morning papers spoke of “Károlyi, the Prime<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -Minister designate of Hungary.” There was to be a -monster meeting in town in front of the House of -Parliament. The workmen appeared in full force. -Lovászy, Count Batthyany, and “comrades” Garbai -and Pogány made revolutionary speeches. A group -of workmen, to show their approval of these measures, -carried a gallows on which a doll dressed like Tisza -in red hussar breeches was suspended. In the evening -the crowd went to the railway station to receive -Károlyi on his return from Vienna.</p> - -<p>Later in the day my brother Géza telephoned to -me from Baden (near Vienna); he had just come -from General Headquarters. Archduke Joseph and -Michael Károlyi had come in the same train. The -King had recalled the Archduke from the Italian -front and sent him as <i>homo regius</i> to Budapest. -The Archduke obeyed, though he would have preferred -to return first to his troops and come back at -their head to restore order in the capital. The King, -however, vetoed this plan. Two unfortunate blunders. -The Archduke arrived without backing, and -Count Károlyi infinitely offended in his vanity. The -youths of the Galilee Circle were waiting for the -latter at the railway station, and he shook his long -yellow hands in the air and shouted: “I will not -forsake Hungary’s independence.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile worse and worse news reached us. We -reeled under it, stunned. Our inertia was folly. -Everybody expected somebody else to do something, -and in the dark hours of our mad misfortune Károlyi’s -National Council alone became bolder.</p> - -<p>Then came the events of October 28th. A crowd -which had gathered near the rooms of Károlyi’s -party, incited by the revolutionary speeches of two -factious orators, and led by Stephen Friedrich, a -manufacturer, started towards the Danube to cross -over to the Royal Castle and claim from Archduke -Joseph the Premiership for Károlyi. “He alone -can get us a good peace!...” There was a crush -at the bridge-head. The crowd used the police -roughly. Shots were fired. The police replied with -a volley. A few people fell dead on the pavement. -That was exactly what the organisers wanted. They -shrieked wildly: “These martyrs will make the -revolution....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span></p> - -<p>How many days ago did all this happen? I began -to count. One, two, three, four days in all. It -seemed as though it had been much longer ago. -Four days!... What a gap between then and -this day when Tisza lay dead and with him much of -Hungary’s honour!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The torture of these memories drove me into despair. -An utter weariness possessed me. I fell back -on my bed. I wanted to rest, but against my will -impressions came crowding into my brain.... -October 29th.... What happened on that day? -Detached images passed before me. Fields soaked -with wet.... A little, whitewashed cottage on the -edge of a wood, a tangled little garden, with ivy -creeping over the paths and covering the old trees. -For years I have gathered my evergreens there for -the Day of the Dead. This year the little house has -a new inmate. The old people have gone and the -new proprietor appeared frightened when I shook -the gate for admittance. Even after he had admitted -me he looked at me several times suspiciously. -His name was Stern, or something of the sort. -While selling the ivy he spoke nervously:</p> - -<p>“This neighbourhood has become very insecure. -Many deserters roam the woods. They spend the -night in the empty villas.” Then he asked me what -I wanted the ivy for. “The cemeteries will be closed -this year on the Day of the Dead. They are afraid -of the crowds, because of the epidemic, and then ... -who knows what may happen if the King is obstinate -and won’t make Károlyi Prime Minister.”</p> - -<p>“I hope he never will....”</p> - -<p>The man looked at me angrily:</p> - -<p>“He must come, and so must the Socialists. -They will save Hungary.”</p> - -<p>“It is odd that you should expect the salvation of -the country to come from those who denounce -patriotism.”</p> - -<p>“I see things differently,” said the man. “That -is just the trouble in Hungary. They always talk -of the country, the nation. There is no such thing -as a country and a nation. It is the same to me -where I live, in Moscow, in Münich or in Belgrade.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -It is all the same to me as long as I live well. That -is the thing we have to drive at, and it is only -through socialism that it can be attained.”</p> - -<p>“The ultimate end being communism?”</p> - -<p>“Later, sometime, some day, yes,” the man -answered in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“And the Russian example? Do you think that -what is going on there is the realisation of human -happiness?”</p> - -<p>“That is only the stage of transition.”</p> - -<p>“Transition which may mean annihilation.”</p> - -<p>Rain began to fall. It drifted in dense silver -threads between the hills. The cottage, its inhabitant -and its garden disappeared from my memory. -I saw another picture. It was evening. My mother -was sitting silently in the hall, lit up by the shaded -lamp, and, as she was wont to do every year, she was -winding the ivy wreath for my father’s grave.</p> - -<p>“It is better for him not to have lived to see this,” -she said abruptly, quite unexpectedly.</p> - -<p>I looked at her. It was as if her words had -opened a gap through which I could get a glimpse of -her soul. I now knew that, though she never said so, -she was worried by premonitions.</p> - -<p>Later on my brothers and sisters came. They -brought news. “It is said that Archduke Joseph -would be made Viceroy. The King has charged -Count Hadik to form a Cabinet. Károlyi’s agitators -are making speeches in the streets all over the town. -There are great demonstrations. The printers’ compositors -have gone over to the National Council. -Now the compositors censor the papers themselves. -Nothing is allowed to be printed without the approval -of the secretariat of the Socialist party. -The workmen of the arsenal have broken open the -armouries. The police have joined Károlyi’s -National Council.... Down there at the Piave -everything has collapsed. There is mutiny in the -fleet at Pola. In the plains of Venezia the front has -gone to pieces.”</p> - -<p>And all the while, my silent mother was making -her wreath....</p> - -<p>I remembered nothing more. The hours passed -unnoticed. Where was I next day? What did I -hear? Memory was effaced. That day was the eve<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -of the 31st of October.... Ah yes! In the afternoon -we had a visitor. Countess Rafael Zichy came -from the Castle Hill though the town had ceased to -be safe. Yet she came and stayed late. The lamps -on the roads had not been lit and we had to light -her down the misty dark hill with a lantern. I was -anxious to know if she reached home safely. My -mother telephoned.... So much I remembered, -but I have no recollection of what we talked about -while she was here.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Dead tired, I closed my eyes. But the swift -changing pictures passed in restless fantasy.... -Human figures chasing outlines ... bloodmarks -... and the dead, white face of Stephen Tisza....</p> - -<p>Shuddering, I opened my eyes. The night was -over and day had come. And then I remembered -that the Russians had not come after all. We had -escaped that danger, but the rest was still there, -encircling us and holding us in captivity.</p> - -<p>A slight noise attracted me. It came from the -lamp hanging from the ceiling. A moth had got -into the glass chimney and with tattered wings was -struggling vainly to escape.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 2nd.</i></p> - -<p>The house stood amid a sad, grey morning. Through -the fog a continuous drizzle was heard in the woods, -and along the road a muddy stream gurgled in the -broken gutter. The people in the electric trams -going townwards were just like the morning itself: -grey, wet and sad. They spoke of the mutiny in the -Russian camp.</p> - -<p>“They have been disarmed”.... “Not at all, -they have spread over the country....” “They -pillage in small bands, like the escaped convicts. -They too broke out on the news of the revolution. -They captured a train and came, all armed, towards -Pest. On the way they fought a regular battle, -with many dead and wounded; the rest escaped.” ... -“No, they did not. They enlisted as sailors.”</p> - -<p>There was panic and confusion in all this talk, and -nobody seemed to know anything for certain.</p> - -<p>The tram turned round the foot of the hill. At -the stopping place I bought a newspaper. The -papers were filthy, and the woman who sold them did -not take much heed of me; she was talking politics -with a hawker who sold boot-laces and moustache -wax at that spot.</p> - -<p>“Give me the <i>Budapesti Hirlap</i>.”—But the -paper which for the last ten years had fought, practically -single-handed, against the machinations of the -destructive press was not to be had. The woman -thrust another paper into my hand. The tram -went on and I began to read. As if announcing a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -glorious victory the head-lines proclaimed in immense -type: “<span class="allsmcap">ON THE WHOLE FRONT WE HAVE LAID -DOWN OUR ARMS! IN CASE OF OCCUPATION WE HAVE -ASKED FOR FRENCH OR BRITISH TROOPS</span>.” Something -stabbed and tore my heart: Gorlice, Limanova, -Lovchen, Doberdo....</p> - -<p>The newspaper continued: “Six weeks are needed -for the conclusion of peace.... The King has -relieved the new government from its allegiance.... -The government has decided in principle for a Republic -and has extended its programme by this condition.... -The Government has sworn allegiance -to the National Council at the Town Hall ... the -touching scene, which buried a past of a thousand -years, passed amidst indescribable enthusiasm.”</p> - -<p>Our arms laid down! Foreign occupation! The -King has relieved the perjurers! A republic in -Hungary! And one of the most important papers -in Hungary writes of all this as if it were the accomplishment -of long cherished hopes, as if it rejoiced -that “the past of a thousand years” had been -buried! Not a word of sympathy, of consolation.</p> - -<p>Then something suddenly dawned on me: in this -paper a victorious race was exulting over the fall of -a defeated nation! And the defeated, the insulted -nation was my own!... So they hated us as much -as all that, they, who lived among us as if they were -part of us. Why? What have we done to them? -They were free, they were powerful, they fared -better with us than in any other country. And yet -they rejoiced that we should disappear in dishonour, -in shame, in defeat.</p> - -<p>I threw the newspaper away—It was an enemy.</p> - -<p>We came to the Pest end of the bridge. The -tram stopped, and I wanted to change. “The trams -are not running. You can walk,” growled the inspector. -The walls are covered with posters, orders, -announcements, proclamations. On a big coloured -poster: “Lukasich has been appointed executioner.” -And under the announcement the execution of a -soldier was depicted. As I walked along my eyes -gleaned a sentence from another poster: “People of -Hungary, soldiers, workers and citizens!” (The order -of the words was significant; but it did not appear -to strike people’s imagination). “Fellow-citizens!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -Glory, honour and homage to the victorious people -of Budapest. The people’s revolution has conquered” -... and the signature: “The First -Hungarian Popular Government.” Then another -sentence: “The military and civil power is in the -hands of the head of the Hungarian Popular -Government, Michael Károlyi.” Many words, many -black words. I read the last words of the Popular -Government’s Proclamation: “To assure the transition -from the present conditions to a quiet peaceful -life, we organise Soldiers’ Councils and a National -Guard so that <span class="smcap">eternal peace</span> may gain its healing -sway over us all.”</p> - -<p>Red and white blotches of paper and alternate -signatures: Heltai, Commander of the Garrison, -Linder, Commander-in-Chief.</p> - -<p>Linder? I never heard this name during the war. -And yet it seemed familiar to me. Then I remembered. -I met him at a social gathering, and once -at an afternoon tea. On both occasions he seemed -under the influence of drink. That was the reason I -noticed him, otherwise his insignificance would have -wiped him out of my memory. Now I seemed to -see his face. He gave me the impression of an elderly -stage swashbuckler. His well-groomed hair was -grey, his shoulders high, his neck thick-set, his face -congested; his tiny grey eyes winked all the time, -and when he laughed they disappeared entirely. -Linder.... Can this stage swashbuckler be the new -Minister of War?</p> - -<p>I now noticed that more and more people hurried -past me, and that all were going towards the House -of Parliament. A crowd was gathering in the big, -beflagged square. People dressed in black, officers in -field uniform, poured from the neighbouring streets. -Some mounted police arrived. Then came a military -band. A military cordon was formed in the centre.</p> - -<p>“What is happening here?” I asked a woman who -stood aimlessly among the loafers on the kerb.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know.” A young man, who might have -been in her company, answered for her: “The -officers of the Garrison are swearing allegiance to the -National Council.”</p> - -<p>“There are crowds of them,” said the woman, and -moved her neck like a duck in a pond. The young<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -man laughed with contempt. “There may be four -hundred.” His accent seemed to proclaim him from -Transylvania.</p> - -<p>Motor cars rushed past me. Overhead, aeroplanes -were circling and strewing leaflets among the crowd: -“The glorious revolution! The people have conquered!” -Leaflets on the ground, leaflets in the -gutter, leaflets everywhere.</p> - -<p>The great grey mass of the House of Parliament -hid the Danube from our sight like a petrified lace -curtain. On its walls the ancient coats of arms of -various counties, the monuments of past Kings, appeared -and disappeared in the mist like a dissolving -view. At the sides of the building the square extended -to the river, and the ghostly outlines of a -bronze figure on horseback stood out against the -background of mist-covered Buda: the statue of -Andrássy, the great Minister of Foreign Affairs. In -the haze it seemed that the rider moved, as though he -wanted to turn his steed and ride away to the sound -of brazen horse-shoes, back along the banks of the -Danube, to see if the river had changed its course—the -river which had imposed upon the lands between -the Black Forest and the Black Sea the alliance -which he had written on paper. Had it left its bed, -had it dried up, that great Danube, the ancient zone -across Europe’s body, that some man should be so -bold as to tear up the scrap of paper which confirmed -the bond? Mist rose over the yellow waves. -The poisoned town threw its image across a veil into -the river and poisoned its waters. And the stream -carried the poison, and perhaps by to-morrow the -lands it crosses may already writhe with internal -pains.</p> - -<p>To-morrow.... Everything is lost in a mist. -Round the square the houses showed their many-eyed -faces through a haze. Below, the rain-covered -asphalt pavement shone, reflecting the people who -stood upon it. In the windows of the houses, on the -stone steps of the House of Parliament, between -two stone lions, more people. I looked at my watch. -It was eleven o’clock. Another motor car dashed -up, there was some cheering in the centre of -the square, and the figure of a man rose above the -crowd. He stood on the steps of the House of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -Parliament in a dark overcoat, a bowler-hat on his -head, a glaring red tie round his neck.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus09" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus09.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">THE HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT.</p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_58"><i>To face p. 58.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The Minister of War. He began to wave his hat -over his head as if attempting to catch an elusive -butterfly. I caught a few of his words. He spoke -with a lisp and stuttered slightly. “Soldiers, I expect -discipline.... We have faithfully done our duty on -the field of battle.... We suffered and we -fought.... We imagined that the ideals we fought -for were worth while.... I, your responsible -Minister of War, declare that these ideals were -false!”</p> - -<p>I thought he would be knocked down for saying -that. Four hundred officers. Just enough....</p> - -<p>“There is a new order of things,” ... shouted -Linder. The short woman next to me jerked her -neck and complained: “I can’t hear anything.” -The slim young man, in his thin shabby overcoat, -stretched his neck to listen: “He says that we have -not been beaten. We have won, the sovereign people -has won. We have conquered that false system....”</p> - -<p>“I can’t understand,” said the woman excitedly.</p> - -<p>We could hear Linder’s voice: “When we had -beaten the Russians and there was no more question -of national defence, we had to go on fighting for -imperialistic, militaristic, egotistic ends....”</p> - -<p>“Aha,” said the woman, and was bored.</p> - -<p>The voice in the middle of the square continued to -shout: “But perhaps we ought not to grumble that -this war has lasted so long. We had to demolish the -tyranny of a thousand years, the tradition of a -thousand years, the servitude of a thousand years.”</p> - -<p>He, too, gloats over the destruction of a thousand -years. What is the matter with this town?</p> - -<p>Some straggling cheers resounded and a few caps -were raised. Then the square became mute, for the -hat of the Minister of War began to wave again in -the air. His face became purple with the effort, and -his voice sounded shrill. Words came, and he said:</p> - -<p>“I never want to see a soldier again!”</p> - -<p>For a moment these words passed above my comprehension. -Then they came back and drummed in -my brain. I could not believe my ears. I must have -misunderstood him. It seemed impossible that a -sane person should have said such a thing. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -Minister of War of the government which had broken -up the front under the pretence that Hungary was -in need of Hungarian troops for the defence of -Hungarian frontiers! No, it was more than ever -impossible now when the Serbians were marching -towards us and Wilson’s message had delivered us -up to the rapacity of Czech, Roumanian and Yugoslav -ambitions. Only the voice of dementia or -sublime criminality could speak such words. What -made him say it? But he is drunk. Is it not visible -on his face? Do not people see how he sways and -grins? His tongue has slipped, he is going to withdraw -his words. No harm has been done as yet. -The people have not grasped his horrible meaning, -his venomous words can be snatched back from the -air.</p> - -<p>Near Linder a long sallow face began to nod. -Károlyi stood on the steps. At his shoulder -appeared a puffy, olive coloured face: Oscar Jászi, -Károlyi’s prompter. So there they are too, listening -to all this, and Károlyi nods and Jászi smiles, confirming, -ratifying the awful words.</p> - -<p>But the officers of the garrison are there! There -may be about four hundred, perhaps more, all -soldiers, all armed, all men. They will not stand -it, they will rush at the Minister of War, catch hold -of him by his red tie and string him up to the nearest -lamp post like a depraved beast. My heart was -hammering, and for a moment I had to turn away. -It would not be a pleasant sight, and after this who -will keep the army in hand? Who will take up the -arms that are to be thrown away? He proclaims -anarchy! He does not want to see any soldiers.... -And within the cordon cheers are raised!</p> - -<p>“Take the oath!” shouted Linder. Even then I -had hope. Surely something must happen. The -men will suddenly regain consciousness. In 1848 -the Imperial High Commissioner Lambert was -stabbed to death by the crowd on the floating -bridge, though what was that foreigner’s guilt compared -with the guilt of these Hungarians? Surely -they cannot remain quiet like this? They are going -to tear him to pieces. A hundred naked fists—why -perhaps a single one could do it.... Oh for that -<span class="smcap">one</span>, gracious God!</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus10" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus10.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">“KÁROLYI STOOD ON THE STEPS.”</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_60"><i>To face p. 60.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> - -<p>Within the military cordon the officers of the -garrison stood in a row, stood there and took the -oath. The soldiers of the King swore obedience to -Michael Károlyi’s National Council.</p> - -<p>A burning sense of shame rose within me. And -then, suddenly, something seemed to open my eyes, -and I saw beyond men and events. Those officers in -the square could not be, all of them, deserters and -hired traitors. Surely there were some among them -who had taken an honourable share in the tragic -Hungarian glory of the war, who had suffered just -as I had. They were soldiers, and as if it were a -dishonour to be so, that fellow dared to tell them to -their face that he did not want to see soldiers any -more. And these words will run all over the town, -and to-morrow they will be racing across the country -and will reach the frontiers where they will lie in wait -for the armed millions returning from the front.</p> - -<p>Some vile spell, the dazzle of some occult charm, -held the crowd fascinated and cowed all into a -lethargy of terror. What power could it be? Whence -did it come? What was its end? For neither -Károlyi, nor Linder, nor Oscar Jászi possessed that -demoniacal influence which crushes will power and -opposition, makes cowards of brave souls and drags -honour in the dust. This force did not rise to-day -or yesterday; it is the result of thousands of years -of savage hatred and bestial will for power, a -monster begotten in obscurity, which, safe from -attack, has spread across the globe, waiting its -opportunity, setting its snares with cunning, -watching for the hour when it can strangle its -victim as with a rope.</p> - -<p>And now it will strangle us too! Our time has -come!</p> - -<p>I shuddered in my helpless solitude amidst the -crowd that blackened the square, where men suffered -everything, cheered the negation of their existence, -and pledged themselves to their own destruction.</p> - -<p>The sound of trumpets rose. The military band -struck up a tune. What was it?... My heart -nearly stopped beating when I realised what it was. -The great revolutionary song of a strange people -rose above the square, the national anthem of a -nation which had been our enemy during the war,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -which led on the revengeful victors who were preparing -to trample us beneath their feet. A hymn of -rebellion, which they play in the beflagged towns on -the banks of the Seine and the Marne to proclaim -their victory, a tune which means glory to them, -humiliation to us. If the French nation had succumbed -to German arms, would they play this day -<i>Deutschland, Deutschland über alles</i> on the Place de -la Concorde?</p> - -<p>To what depth have you sunk, Hungarian men? -I set my teeth and pressed my suffering down into -my heart. And the grandiose strains of the -Marseillaise floated over my head. Their beauty I -heard not. To me the notes were but the guffaws -of a scornful melody that roared derision over the -square. The clarions sounded brazen yells of contempt, -the rolling of the drums emphasised their -mockery, and the cymbals applauded—applauded -our defeat.... And the crowd cheered Károlyi.</p> - -<p>The soldiers went back to the City. The interrupted -traffic thronged over the shining asphalt. -Carriages drove by. Small groups vanished in the -distant streets. Slowly the square became empty. -A few constables remained on duty in front of the -House of Parliament; people waited at the stopping -place of the tram. The woman with the duck’s -neck and the Transylvanian youth were there too. -We waited.</p> - -<p>The House of Parliament relapsed into its grave -silence. The bronze figure of the horseman near the -shore was invisible. Had it gone, was it still there? -I hesitated. There, on the other side, towards the -bridge, near the river, the embankment was bare. -There never had been a statue there. But the wraith -of a giant whose blood was spilt on October 31st is -slowly groping his way towards it. His chest is -pierced by a bullet, his heart’s blood has flowed -away. He goes slowly, but he will get there—when -the day comes.</p> - -<p>The Transylvanian young man and the woman -near me were both staring at the shore. I had no -intention of speaking aloud yet I said:</p> - -<p>“That is where Stephen Tisza’s monument is going -to stand.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus11" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus11.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">SOLDIERS TAKING THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO KÁROLYI’S NATIONAL COUNCIL.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_62"><i>To face p. 62.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The woman was horribly frightened. “Please,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -don’t say things like that. The people hate him -frightfully.”</p> - -<p>“But why should they hate him so?”</p> - -<p>“He was the cause of the war; the soldier who -killed him said so.”</p> - -<p>“His monument is going to stand there.”</p> - -<p>“You will be knocked down if you say such -things,” said the young man. “This morning a -gentleman just said to his wife: “Poor Tisza!” -Nevertheless the passengers became indignant, insulted -him, stopped the car and shouted till both got -off. You must say nothing openly about him, except -that he was a scoundrel, that he wanted the -war and was the cause of all the bloodshed. One -may not say anything of anybody but what the -National Council says. One must say nothing of -Károlyi but that he is the only person who can save -Hungary. This is our liberty.”</p> - -<p>Later in the day I had news of another misfortune -which had befallen us while the drunken Minister of -War was proclaiming in front of the House of -Parliament that he never wanted to see a soldier -again. Archduke Joseph and his son Joseph Francis -have sworn fidelity to the National Council at the -Town Hall. Somebody who had seen the Archdukes -told me that they had gone to the ceremony in -field-uniform, with all their orders on their chests. -John Hock had the doors of the hall opened so that -the public might follow the ceremony and then -received in the name of the Council the oaths which -bestowed a certain prestige and a doubtful legal -standing on the power they have built up on mud.</p> - -<p>Károlyi’s press shrieked with joy. The mid-day -papers published the report and obsequiously -fawned on the Archdukes. Cunningly they called -this brave, clean soldier the new Philippe Egalité, -comparing him to the Orléans Prince who had -denied his origin and pronounced death on his -king.... I was dumfounded. Those who had any -strength of character would feel now that they had -been abandoned, while the weak would have nothing -to cling to and would inevitably drift toward the -National Council. What was at the bottom of it all? -How did it happen that Archduke Joseph, the general -idolized by the nation, the bearer of the great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -traditions of the great Palatines, how did he come -to the disgraceful table where a disreputable priest -collected oaths for the National Council? What has -forced the Archduke to join the enemies of his -country and his dynasty? Among the many dark -scenes of this grim tragedy this one alone has come -to light; it cannot yet be understood, and the time -has not yet come to pass judgment upon it. That the -Archduke went there with a stricken soul, against -his innate convictions, those who know him cannot -doubt.</p> - -<p>Ever since his childhood, ever since he started life -under the old trees of Alcsuth, he had always trod -the paths of the nation’s honour. During the war -he was a father to the Hungarian soldiers. Of the -many stories told about him I will repeat only one -which I had from my brother. At the Italian front -a wounded Hungarian soldier was asked on his -deathbed if he had any wish. “I should like to see -Archduke Joseph once more.” That was all he -said and the Archduke came and held his hand while -he died. One who was loved like that was not -carried by fear or bribe to the Town Hall. It was -not for his own sake but in the misconceived interest -of his country that he made the sacrifice, aggrandised -by its background, his family’s transcendent history -of a thousand years.</p> - -<p>In front of him in a dirty office: Michael Károlyi, -John Hock, Kunfi, Jászi. Behind him, on a road -lost in the centuries, in silver armour with vizor -raised: the haughty face of the Emperor Rudolph, -Count of Hapsburg, whose cup-bearer was a -Hohenzollern. And again, his handsome silver locks -covered with a black velvet biretta, the chain of the -Golden Fleece about his neck: Maximilian, the -friend of poets, the hero of Theuerdank, the last of -the knights. In a heavily embroidered bodice, the -sparkling Marguerite of Austria, ruling Duchess of -the Netherlands. Philippe le Bel, and the amorous -Joan. In grave splendour, Charles V., on whose -kingdom the sun never set, and the victor of -Lepanto’s gory waters, the young Don Juan of -Austria. The gloomy cortège of the Spanish Philips -and Carlos. The full-wigged Ferdinand and Leopold -under the holy crown, and Maria Thérèse’s powdered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -little head bowed in the grandiose tumult of -Hungarian fidelity, among drawn swords and hands -uplifted for the vow: “<i>Vitam et sanguinem pro -rege nostro</i>....” Joseph, the king in a hat,<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -a narrow, meditative face at the window of the -Vienna Burg, while behind him Mozart’s spinet -sounds delicately sweetly from the gilt white room. -A touching face: Marie Antoinette, more royal on -the scaffold than on the throne. Leopold of Toscana, -the friend of the Hungarians. In a simple white -frock-coat: the Duke of Reichstadt. In the robes -of the Order of St. Stephen: the great Palatines. -And at the end of the row the constitutional old -King, the last grand seigneur of Europe, and Elizabeth, -the wandering queen, who never was at home -but when she was in Hungary.</p> - -<p>This history of the Hapsburgs is the history of -Europe itself. It is a history of imperial diadems -and royal crowns, of empires, kingdoms and -countries, of centuries and generations. And so to -drag the Archduke Joseph into the mire was precisely -what Károlyi and his accomplices desired. -Let the downfall be complete, so that there shall be -nothing to look back on, so that the abased nation -shall not be able to expect anything from anybody. -The political leader of the nation has been killed in -the person of Stephen Tisza; its military leader has -now been enticed into the gutter and has been -covered with mud so that those who look out for a -chief round whom to rally may not discern his real -character. The bonds have been severed, and in the -silence of our amazement we are all become solitary -and forlorn.</p> - -<p>What is left to us? The funeral of Stephen Tisza! -The dead leader will once more gather his followers -together. And then our bitterness shall find voice -and strength.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was in the afternoon that I heard that the -funeral which we had wanted to attend had already -taken place quietly, in other words secretly. Only -a new act of Károlyi’s impudence made some noise.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -He had sent a wreath labelled: “A human atonement -to my greatest political adversary. Michael -Károlyi.” The mourning family, however, had the -wreath thrown on the garbage heap. Quietly, with -secrecy, Tisza’s coffin was taken from the house of -the bloody deed to the railway station. Few of his -friends were present, but the two women who had -been faithful to the last were there. They took him -to Geszt. Once more he was to cross the great plain -he loved so much, to take his rest in the soil of the -land that had allowed him no rest while he lived.</p> - -<p>Evening came. A cart rolled through the silence -of our rural retreat and stopped in front of our -garden. We had been waiting for weeks for the -long paid-for firewood, and at last it had come. The -Swabian driver who had brought it stood lazily on -top of the pile and threw one log after the other -indifferently into the road. I asked him if he would -mind bringing the wood into the courtyard. If it -remained out there every piece of it would be stolen -before the morrow.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not; you ought to be jolly glad that -I brought it at all,” he answered. He squeezed the -money for cartage into the pocket of his breeches, -whipped up his horses, and the cart rolled downward -on the mountain road. I did not know what to do. -I went to the farm, then enquired at the nearest -houses, when I noticed two men coming up the road. -They had red ribbons in their buttonholes, and rifles -over their shoulders. I stopped them and asked -them if they would carry the wood in for me: -I would pay for it with pleasure. They looked at -each other, whispered, and at last one said, as if -bestowing a favour on me:</p> - -<p>“We might, but it will be sixty crowns for the -cubic yard.”</p> - -<p>“Have you taken leave of your senses? You know -it won’t take you an hour to carry the whole lot in.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if it doesn’t suit you, carry it yourself,” -and they laughed sardonically. “You’ll have to -come to us in the end,” one of them added. Then -they sat down on the edge of the ditch opposite the -gate, lit their pipes and looked on maliciously to -see what I would do next. I turned my back on -them, picked up a log and dragged it into the yard.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -The men sat and looked on. I had to go in and out -a good many times, and was soon panting with the -unusual exertion; my hands got wet and sore with -the damp wood. Then suddenly my sister’s children -appeared. They got two poles and we carried the -logs in on the improvised stretcher. On the road -two little boys and a girl came strolling towards the -farm. They stopped, looked on for a while, and -then they too joined us. Now the work proceeded -fast, and within an hour the wood was all stacked -in the yard.</p> - -<p>While we worked the two men sat on the edge of -the ditch opposite, smoked, spat, and addressed -provoking remarks at us. When I closed the gate I -could not resist shouting across to them: “Good of -you to have stayed here. At least you saw of what -mettle we are made. We managed your job although -you couldn’t manage ours.”</p> - -<p>The log-pulling tired me out—and that did me -good. For fatigue softened my troubles, and when -I went to bed I fell asleep at once. But I must -have slept only a short time, for suddenly I dreamt -that somebody was standing in front of my window -and knocking. In the semi-consciousness of -awakening I listened. My room was on the first -floor. I jumped up. Violent shooting was going on -near the house and the windows rattled in their -frames. Then a long appalling howl rent the night, -steps ran down the hillside, and everything lapsed -into silence.</p> - -<p>I lay awake for a long time. A curious light -came through the latticework of my blinds which -overlooked a piece of waste ground. I listened. -There were steps in the neighbourhood. Something -was happening out there. Should I go and see?... -I hesitated for some time. My limbs were heavy -with fatigue. Then at last I went stealthily to the -window. Soldiers were standing in front of the -empty villa which stood next to ours and were supporting -a hatless man who seemed to be wounded or -insensible. A small shrivelled form held an electric -torch in its hand and fumbled with the lock of the -door. The shadow which he cast on the white wall -was like that of a hunch-backed cat. The door -opened and they all went in.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> - -<p>My first thought was “I must telephone to the -police!” Then I realized that even that impulse -belonged to the past. What good would it be? -There is nobody who can maintain order. I thought -of the fugitives in our woods. The country was -swarming with deserters, released convicts, small -bands of burglars. We shall have to get used to -it—we shall have to get used to many things.</p> - -<p>And again there was firing down in the valley. -Although the danger of remaining longer in this -deserted neighbourhood still worried me, I was too -tired to absorb fresh troubles, and went to sleep.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 3rd.</i></p> - -<p>A raven sat on a branch of the chestnut tree. It -did not fly away when I opened my window, but -sat there like a stuffed bird and stared with -half-closed eyes into the yard. Near the black -bird a few big red leaves fluttered on the bare tree, -like bleeding scraps of flesh on a skeleton. And the -raven sat on top of the skeleton against the rusty -sky and rubbed its beak now and then against the -branches as if it would scrape some carrion from it. -Then again for a long time it sat motionless and -stared unconcernedly at the ground beneath it. -Suddenly it swayed as if it were going to fall, -sprang clumsily away from the branch, and slowly -took its flight into the autumnal air. Whither is it -going and what is happening there?</p> - -<p>Alarming news comes from all parts of the -country. Home-coming soldiers and inflamed mobs -are pillaging everywhere. As yet the news relates to -no definite locality, for there is no post, and the -newspapers pass over in silence anything that might -create prejudice against the new power, yet the glare -of conflagration is to be seen in all directions. Many -people fled from the capital after the 31st of October, -but in vain; risings awaited them in the very places -where they hoped for safety.</p> - -<p>The government took good care that this should -be so. Károlyi’s party, as well as the socialist and -radical party, got together agitators whose duty it -was to incite the lower classes. And these did not -confine their attention to the returning soldiers, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -lectured the peaceful country folk concerning “the -results of the glorious revolution and the dangers of -the counter-revolution.” They threw firebrands -wherever a conflagration was likely, and blew into -flames such smouldering fires of revolt as they could -find.</p> - -<p>At the tram station the newsboy openly offered -for sale the papers of subscribers: no more newspapers -will be delivered, and those who want one -must go and fetch it, they rudely asserted. They all -seem to have learnt the same lesson. The voice of -the street becomes coarser day by day and in every -word there is an intonation that savours of class -hatred.</p> - -<p>Crowds gathered in the town. Meetings were being -held everywhere. In front of the House of Parliament -a few thousand workmen and the people of the -Ghetto had assembled. Speeches inciting to violence -were heard on all sides. The contractor Heltai, now -commander of the garrison, and a socialist agitator -called Bokányi, addressed the crowd:</p> - -<p>“Down with Kingship! Down with the House of -Lords! We want new elections! But the elections -won’t be made by Lord Lieutenants but by the -People’s Commissaries!”</p> - -<p>The People’s Commissaries ... Trotski and -Lenin’s henchmen in Hungary! So now the -rebellion which dubbed itself the national revolution -dares to speak openly of these! Everything here is -being ordered after the Russian pattern. In the -barracks the men of the garrison have dismissed -their officers, elected representatives, and constituted -Soldiers’ Councils, which are developing into a new -power. The head of this new power is a socialist -journalist called Joseph Pogány-Schwarz. The -vice-presidents are Imre Csernyák, a cashiered -officer, and Teodor Sugár-Singer, a Galileist with a -shady past. Pogány has declared that “the military -council can have only one programme: the final -abolition of the army!” and while day by day he -arms more workmen with the help of the socialist -party organisation, he dissolves feverishly the old -Hungarian army. Nor does the Minister of War -remain inactive: he has organised Zionist guards -and has armed the members of the Maccabean Club.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -Ladislaus Fényes, who from being a journalist has -turned into the Government Commissary of National -Guards, has enlisted and equipped more and more -vagabonds and escaped convicts with sailors’ -uniforms.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus12" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus12.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">JOSEPH POGÁNY <i>alias</i> SCHWARTZ.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_70"><i>To face p. 70.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>A motor-car passed me, going slowly. It was -a beautiful car and its window was ornamented with -a label: “National property, to be protected.” -Near the label, inside the car, I saw the face of -Michael Károlyi. I was in no laughing mood, yet -I could not help laughing at this. “National -property!”... The nation must be in a sad -plight indeed. “To be protected!”... Is that -the only thing which is to receive protection?</p> - -<p>By Károlyi’s side his wife was visible. Now and -then there was a cheer—“The King’s car,” said -somebody near me. I felt suddenly sick. He goes -about in the King’s car and is cheered. Stephen -Tisza travels in a hearse and stones are hurled at -him. The face of Tisza appeared so vividly in my -thoughts that it seemed to stand before me.... I -remembered a summer afternoon during the war. -Mixing with the crowd, Tisza came towards me in a -light summer suit. The descendant of a long line -of horsemen he was slender and looked young; his -shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, but his face -was worn and as if shrunken with grief. Deep -wrinkles ran to the corners of his mouth, and as I -recollected him I thought of the strong, sad look in -his eyes and the movements of his shoulders. Only -his shoulders moved; he walked with an easy, -elastic gait, as if he were strolling along a forest -path, and his hands swung lightly....</p> - -<p>The vision passed, and I was brought back to -earth by some unkempt vagabonds cheering Károlyi. -And the living man there in the car seemed more -like a corpse than the dead man of my thoughts. -His long, bloodless body was thin and bent. His -narrow head, with its artificial stern expression, -lolled on his shoulder as if it were too heavy for his -neck to support. His watery, squinting eyes shifted -blankly from side to side. His mouth was slightly -open, as if his long, round chin had drawn down his -fleshy cheeks. I remembered an ivory paper-knife -I had once seen, the handle of which was carved to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -represent an unhealthy looking head, worn smooth -by much use. He reminded me of that sallow ivory -head, the neck of which had been turned into a -spiral, like a screw. The screw of Károlyi’s neck -had come loose, and his head dropped sideways. -His wife was rouged in a doll-like fashion and her -beautiful big eyes sparkled. Her voluptuous young -mouth smiled in rapture, and she seemed to be -drinking her success from the air greedily.</p> - -<p>I looked after her. The car had long disappeared -but it seemed to me as if the smile of those painted -lips had left a trail of corruption over the suffering, -harassed people. It spread and spread.... -Stephen Tisza’s body is covered with blood. The -frontiers of the country are bleeding. The enemy -is victorious without having vanquished us. The -army goes to pieces; the throne has fallen. St. -Stephen’s crown has lost Croatia and Slavonia. The -rabble robs and pilfers. A Serbian army has crossed -the frontier.</p> - -<p>And the painted lips smile, smile....</p> - -<p>Only a few days ago Michael Károlyi had said in -jest:</p> - -<p>“The smaller the country becomes the greater -shall I be. When I was leader of the opposition, the -whole of Hungary was intact; when I became Prime -Minister Croatia and Slavonia had gone; there will -be five counties when I am President, and one only -when I shall be King.”</p> - -<p>If only the miserable deceived millions could have -heard this, they for whose benefit he proclaimed on -the 31st of October with the recklessness of the -gambler: “I alone can save Hungary!” They -believed him!... And yet mysterious Nature -itself had warned the country to beware of him.</p> - -<p>The deformed offspring of a consanguineous -marriage, the heir to the enormous entailed possessions -of the Károlyis, was born with a cleft palate -and a hare-lip. He was fourteen years old when an -operation was performed on him which enabled him, -against the will of Divine Providence, to learn to -speak—so that he might beguile his nation and his -country into destruction. A silver palate was put -into his mouth. The boy struggled and suffered. He -wrestled with the words, and if his poor efforts were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -not understood by his companions he went into -violent fits of temper. The only one who could have -understood him, his mother, died early. His grandmother -and his sister guided the poor boy through -his unhappy early days. His progress in school was -slow and the results of examinations deplorable. He -passed his <i>baccalaureat</i> at the same time as my -brother, yet he practically knew nothing and could -not even spell. He passed all the same: “The poor, -young invalid!” That served him as a passport -everywhere. Fate decreed that the misshapen -youth should live, and he lived to take a cruel -revenge for its cruelties.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus13" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus13.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">COUNTESS MICHAEL KÁROLYI<br /> - <span class="smaller">(<i>née</i> COUNTESS KATINKA ANDRÁSSY).</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_72"><i>To face p. 72.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>His physical shortcomings prevented anyone from -expecting much from him, so that almost everything -he learned, did or said, surpassed the extremely low -standard his family had set for him. His relations -recognised this “ability” and admired him. And -this delusion was the root of Károlyi’s ever-increasing -vanity. He became convinced that he was an extraordinary -man and that he was predestined for -wonderful things.</p> - -<p>When he came of age he entered into possession -of one of the greatest estates in Hungary. He could -dispose freely of an enormous income. He had no -need to keep accounts, and he kept none. He spent -recklessly. He gambled, indulged in orgies. People -laughed at him. Nobody took him seriously. His -spendthrift life, cards, and the political rôle he -assumed later, absorbed fabulous sums. But his -fortune could still stand it. He was surrounded by -sycophants. And he believed the flatteries of his -cringing parasites. His megalomania at last became -pathological. Without possessing the necessary -aptitude, he now conceived the idea of making up -for what he had neglected in his idle youth. He -began to read. And when husbandry, political -economy, sociology, were accumulated in an -indigestible hotch-potch in his brain, he aspired to -become a leader of men.</p> - -<p>At the head of the conservatives stood Stephen -Tisza, by race and tradition the very model of -Hungarian conservatism; another faction of this -party was headed by Count Julius Andrássy. In -these camps Károlyi could never be anything but a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -secondary figure; leadership was beyond his reach. -This fact drove him to the extreme left. Spurred by -his unhealthy ambition for power he assumed the -absurd position of leader of the radical democracy, -a demagogue playing with national catchwords, -though he was an aristocrat by tradition, had no -national feeling whatever, and had constantly proclaimed -himself essentially a Frenchman at heart, -the spiritual descendant of his French great-grandmother. -His faction was in need of a figurehead. It -found one in him.</p> - -<p>The clash between him and Tisza came when -Tisza, then the President of the Commons, tired of -the barren fights of eternal obstruction, and in anticipation -of the future extension of the franchise, -wanted to assure the decency of the proceedings in -the Hungarian Parliament by a revision of the -standing rules of procedure. The parties sounded -the alarm. Personal feelings were much embittered. -Andrássy and Károlyi found themselves in the same -camp and both were mortally offended when Tisza -imposed his haughty will with merciless firmness.</p> - -<p>It was by the application of the new rules that -Károlyi happened later to be expelled from the -House by physical force at the hands of the parliamentary -guards. On this occasion he was heard to -declare, foaming with rage, that he would get even -with Tisza, even though it should be at the cost of -his country’s ruin. His frenzy became akin to -dementia as the result of the duel he fought about -this time with Tisza, who managed to impress him -once more with his contempt even at the moment of -giving him armed satisfaction. Henceforth it was -always the opposite to anything Tisza approved of -that he desired, and consequently his gambler’s -instinct forced him to put his money always on some -other card than that on which the nation, through -Tisza’s foresight, had risked its stakes.</p> - -<p>By this time his entourage was composed almost -exclusively of Freemasons, and his person became -the centre of attraction of that suspicious gang -whose aim was to incite Hungarians against -Hungarians, and Christians against Christians, so -that it might gain the upper hand—in proof of the -adage <i>inter duos litigantes tertius gaudet</i>. Shortly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -before the war Károlyi went with some of his -adherents to the United States to collect party -funds. No account of those funds was ever rendered.</p> - -<p>The outbreak of the war found him in Paris. His -financial position had now become strained. The -life-interest in his property, heavily mortgaged, left -him no surplus. Yet he went on spending and gambling. -Nobody knew whence his money came. Nor did -anybody know why he alone was allowed to leave -France at the outbreak of the war, while obscure individuals -were mercilessly interned for its duration.</p> - -<p>It was after his return that Károlyi began to -spread the infection which, on the 31st of October -1918, like a septic sore that had long been festering, -broke out in putrid suppuration.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The lamp-lighter came up the street. The glass -of the lamps rattled and the little flames flared up. -Over the bridge an arc of light appeared in the mist -rising from the river. In the tunnel under the Castle -Hill old-fashioned lamps lit up the damp walls. Two -soldiers were walking in front of me, otherwise the -tunnel was practically empty. Their voices resounded -from the roof—they were quarrelling in a strange -thieves’ jargon. On the other side a well-dressed man -came towards us on the pavement. The two soldiers -discussed something in their incomprehensible lingo, -then crossed together to the other side, saluted -the stranger and, as if asking him a question, bent -towards him. Obviously they were asking him the -time. The gentleman drew his watch. One of the -soldiers grasped him suddenly by the shoulders, the -other bent over him. A loud shout rolled away under -the vault, and next moment the two soldiers were -running in their heavy boots with loud clatter towards -the other end of the tunnel. It was quickly -done and created no sensation. The whole thing -was quite in keeping with our daily life -nowadays.</p> - -<p>This night vagabond soldiers again visited the -empty villa and shots were fired near the garden. -The dogs barked no more. Have they been shot, or -have they got accustomed to it?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 4th.</i></p> - -<p>I went through the rooms again. In front of the -gate the carriage was awaiting to take us away for -the winter, from among the trees to among the -houses. The small light of the carriage-lamps -filtered hesitatingly through the mist on to the bare -branches of the shrubs. A vague anxiety took hold -of me. It seemed to me that hitherto we had looked -on from the shore, but that now we were going to -wade into the turbulent, muddy flood. Whither -will its torrent carry us; what is to be our fate?</p> - -<p>I went all over the house, and, one after the -other, opened the doors of the cupboards and the -drawers. I left everything open so that if burglars -did break into the house in winter the locks might -not be forced, the cupboards not smashed with -hatchets. The fireplaces cooled down slowly. We -had had no fires during the day in order to avoid -accidents after we had gone. In one of the grates the -embers still retained a little warmth, the others were -as cold as the dead. I fastened the grated shutters -in every room. In the semi-darkness, against the -whitewashed walls, the old furniture, the old story-telling -engravings, friends of my childhood, the big -vase, the parrot-chandeliers, the coloured glasses -in which the flowers of a hundred summers had -blossomed in the rooms of my mother and my -grandmother, all looked at me as if in sorrow. I -looked also at my books, the old Bible on the shelf, -at everything for which no room could be found in -the vans and which had to be left behind.</p> - -<p>Things too have tears.... What if the empty -house were pillaged? If I were never to see again -the dear things full of memories?... Why do you -leave us here? the abandoned things seemed to ask, -and I felt as if I were parting from devoted, living -beings, which patiently shared our fate.</p> - -<p>My mother called from below, waiting, ready to -start, in the hall with my brother, who had come for -us so that he might be there should the carriage be -waylaid. As we went out of it the old house lapsed -into lethargy and everything closed its eyes. The -key turned, the pebbles clattered on the drive, and -the carriage went slowly down the slope of the hill.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> - -<p>At the bridge over the Devil’s Ditch my brother-in-law -was waiting with his little daughter, and she -got into the carriage. Reckless soldiers had overrun -the hills and life was so insecure that they did not -dare to keep the young girl at home. In town things -may be quieter.... Beyond the cemetery we came -to the booth of the excisemen. We waited for a time -in the mist and as no policeman, no exciseman appeared, -we passed on through the open barrier. The -outlines of armed soldiers and sailors peopled the -ill-lit streets of Buda. The forms of a few frightened -citizens who were trying to get home appeared now -and then, but were soon absorbed by the night.</p> - -<p>Beyond the bridge over the Danube the town was -floating in light. Big arc-lamps were burning, as of -old when a victory was reported from the battle-fields. -Flags floated from the houses. In the -fashionable streets the crowds thronged for their -evening walk, and as the carriage passed Károlyi’s -portrait could be seen in the shop windows among -stockings and ribbons, furs and sausages.</p> - -<p>I felt relieved when we came out of the sea of -people into quieter streets. The carriage stopped at -our house in Stonemason Street. Under the porch -a half-turned-on gas lamp was burning, which threw -a light up to the ceiling but left everything under -our feet in darkness. The house seemed to have become -shabby during the summer. The staircase was -dull and ugly. The fires smoked and nothing was as -it used to be when we came in olden times to our -friendly winter home. Disorder, covered furniture, -draped pictures. It was like wearing summer -clothes on a frosty winter day.</p> - -<p>“Well, we are settled for the winter now, mother -dear,” I laughed, to make it seem more cheerful. -My mother laughed too and we both pretended to be -happy.</p> - -<p>A clumsy little German maid rushed about among -the trunks and did nothing. Our faithful farmer -neighbour, who had kindly escorted the luggage, -was struggling with the fires. The housekeeper -boiled some water over a spirit lamp. My mother -went to and fro, and wherever her hand reached -order sprang up. All at once the little green room -assumed a friendly appearance and tea steamed in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -the cups on the white covered table. Home was -home again and we smiled at each other.</p> - -<p>“The many war winters have passed, and this is -going to pass too.”</p> - -<p>“This is worse than the winters of the war,” my -mother said with unusual gloom.</p> - -<p>I looked involuntarily at the window. Out there -beyond, a big town was breathing, but it was impossible -to get information from its chaos. The -scum had got the upper hand; was any resistance -being organised? It was impossible that things -should remain like this! One regiment coming back -in order, one energetic commander, and Károlyi’s -band will tumble from power.</p> - -<p>Newspapers lay on the table, and my eyes fell on a -proclamation of Károlyi, which he had made in the -presence of the representatives of the Budapest -press: “From the 1st of November Hungary becomes -a neutral state,” he declared. “This tired -government....” He did not say what the Entente -powers would say to this neutrality. Further on he -spoke of the Minister of War.... “He had -immortal merits in obtaining peace. History will -not fail to recognise the credit due to him; Linder -has rendered to the Hungarian people services of -eternal value and usefulness....”</p> - -<p>I remembered the disgraceful scene in front of the -House of Parliament, a scene cunningly contrived by -those in the background.... “I do not want to -see any more soldiers....” I had heard since that -it was for this sentence, promised beforehand, that -the social democrats gave the Ministry of War to -the obscure Linder. The price of his portfolio was -the disruption of the army. And Károlyi spoke of -history’s gratitude!</p> - -<p>On the last page of the paper I found accidentally -an extract of the conditions of the armistice.</p> - -<p>Immediate disarmament, the withdrawal of our -armies from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier.... -When I read on my eyes faltered. Then they were -filled with alarm. The last terrible condition (unknown -in modern warfare) followed: Prisoners of -war to be returned without any reciprocity! This -seemed incomprehensible. Our enemies want to -retain as white slaves soldiers, heroes who had faced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -them armed in open battle. Then another pain -stabbed me: We must lose the coast, Dalmatia, -the dreamy blue islands, the fleet to whose flag so -much glory was attached, the monitors of the -Danube. We must deliver up all floating material, -the commercial harbours, and ships.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus14" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus14.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">FIUME<br /> - <span class="smaller">(HUNGARY’S ONLY PORT—TAKEN FROM HER BY THE PEACE TREATY).</span></p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_78"><i>To face p. 78.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The scorched, lifeless Carso, wild tracts of rock -under an azure sky, great murmuring forests, and -there, down below, the sea, and, like corals and shells -on the shore, Fiume, Hungary’s gate to the seas. It -was indeed a bitter thought. Italy, with thy -hundred ports, why dost thou rob us? We have -only this one! It was a tiny fishing village, like so -many others in the bay of Quarnero. We made it -what it is: it sprung up from Hungarian labour, the -gold from Hungarian harvests of corn and wine has -flowed there to raise dams, to build quays, to work a -wonder among the stones. Fiume is our only -port....</p> - -<p>And beyond, that which was not ours but which -we loved dearly, the rosy bastions of the Dolomites, -reaching into the clouds, the home of the Tyrolese, -and Riga on the shores of Lake Garda, peaks and -ravines, sacred by so much Hungarian blood. What -the war could not take is peace to take from us?</p> - -<p>Beside myself, I walked up and down in my room till -morning, haunted by despair, utter, complete despair.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 5th.</i></p> - -<p>In place of the free morning of the woods, the -gloom of a narrow street looked in through my -window. The wall of the opposite house drove my -eyes back to my books, my furniture, my pictures. -Now I saw their beauty again, and I was glad that -they were there with me.</p> - -<p>The many old books in the bookcase behind my -writing-table ran up the wall like the fading gold of -an ancient embroidery. Above, on the red wall, in -a frame surmounted by the Pope’s triple crown, in a -soft haze the Madonna of Venice by Sebastiano -Ricci. The portrait of Castruccio Castracani and a -Dutch Old Man in a sable-bordered green mantle. -The clock ticked under the Empire mirror. From -the escritoire with the many little drawers, a copy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -of San Lorenzo the child-monk, the most beautiful -piece of sculpture of the early Renaissance, looked -into my room with a youthful challenge.</p> - -<p>The fading gold of ancient frames, the stale green -of old furniture. The colours toyed with each other -in silence and the red curtains and walls threw a -russet light over things as if a magic sunset had been -caught between the window and the door.</p> - -<p>Next to my room, in the small drawing-room, the -old water-colours hung over the sofa. My ancestor, -the powdered, pigtailed old gentleman, in his -romantic breastplate of the Hardegger Cuirassiers, -my grandfather’s handsome young head, and beautiful -fair women with locks on the sides of their faces. -Opposite, on the piano, between the golden Old -Vienna vases, stood my mother’s portrait as a child, -in all its delicacy. And on the mantelpiece the -butterfly-shaped pendulum of the marble clock told -me endless tales of the past.</p> - -<p>I loved all these things so much, or rather I became -conscious of my love for them because fear was now -added to my affection. Shall we keep them? Will -they remain our own?</p> - -<p>In the evening I was on Red Cross duty at the -railway station. The clock on St. Rocus’ chapel -proclaimed it half past six. The trams, crammed -full, raced down the street, with people hanging on -outside like bunches of grapes. It was impossible to -get into one. I had to walk, and as I came to the -more remote parts of the town I remembered October -31st. The pavement was thronged with criminal-looking -men, suspicious vagabonds, drunken sailors, -Galician Jews in their gabardines. Whence did this -rabble come? Or did it always live here among us, -only we did not know it?</p> - -<p>The neighbourhood of the station was swarming -with people. Disarmed, ragged soldiers sold cigarettes -and sticky sweets; one or two asked for alms. Near -the wall, on a stair covered with a waterproof, some -obscene books were lying about. Dirty men sold -pencils, purses, tobacco. A boy in a gabardine -offered broken bits of chocolate from a tray. There -was something Balkan in this noisy scene: a red -cross flag floated over the murky street. People -went freely in and out through the doors of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -station. No tickets were required—anyhow, it -would be impossible to stop the mob—the guards -had gone. Russian soldiers in sheepskin caps, Roumanian -and Serbian prisoners of war, like a -stampeded herd, broke through the throng. These -at least could go home. And my hand went to my -heart.</p> - -<p>Wounded soldiers, drinking tea and eating slices of -bread, sat on the benches in the carbolic-scented, -stuffy air of the former Royal waiting-room, which -was lit up sparsely. It was the first time I had -been on duty since the Revolution. During the -many years of war so many stretchers had gone -through this Red Cross room, so much suffering and -moaning and knocking of crutches, that it seemed to -me now as if all these turned back with reproaches -and asked continually: “What good was that sea -of suffering, all these deaths, if this is to be the end -of the road?”</p> - -<p>Round the low-burning gas-stove sat some -sergeants of the Army Medical Corps. Further -away, in a cold corner, a few disabled officers had -retired. The insignia of their rank on their collars -were missing. They were pale and thin. One of -them leant his elbows on his knees and buried his -face in his hands. Another’s head was bowed down -on his chest. Never in my life have I seen men more -dejected than these: they just sat there without -moving. And while I looked at them I realised with -an aching heart that the horrible betrayal, “the -glorious revolution” has wounded the wounded, and -far, far away, in the many soldiers’ graves, has -killed the dead anew.</p> - -<p>A hospital train arrived; it brought Germans. In -silent line one stretcher after the other defiled -through the door, and the men were laid in a gray row -on the floor. Under torn, bloody, great-coats, pale -patient ghosts. A hospital from the Southern front -had been evacuated in haste. “The Serbians are -advancing....”</p> - -<p>The old bandages soaked with blood were dirty -on the men: an awful stench of corruption spread -over the place. And between the stretchers a Jewish -sergeant, in brand new field-uniform, with golden -pince-nez, sporting a red cockade, walked haughtily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -up and down. I had never seen him in the place -before. “I have been delegated by the Soldiers’ -Council,” he remarked. And this man, whose very -appearance betrayed the fact that he had never been -a soldier during the war, now stood there, his legs -apart, between the wounded and spoke to them -with impertinent condescension.</p> - -<p>I told the doctor that the men required new -bandages, it was two weeks now since they had -been put on. “There are no bandages,” said the -doctor sadly and went back to his room. I did not -see him again that evening. The reeking air was -now and then rent by a moan, a quiet sigh. That -was all. But nobody spoke. The men thanked one -with a weary look for the bad decoction and the -bread that tasted of sawdust.</p> - -<p>“Our men are still fighting against the Serbians,” -a fair Bavarian mumbled, when I leant down over -him. It was only when the red-cockaded sergeant -had retired and the other orderly had gone to smoke -outside on the platform that there was some talk -between the stretchers.</p> - -<p>“How are things at home?” the Germans asked. -“We have no newspapers, we know nothing. People -say that there they have made a revolution too and -that they want to banish the Kaiser.”</p> - -<p>Wounded Hungarian soldiers sat on one of the -benches and talked of the Italian front:</p> - -<p>“It was after our men had laid down their arms -that the Italians began to shell us. They used -heavy artillery and killed whole regiments. Whole -divisions were surrounded. They report three -hundred thousand prisoners and a thousand guns. -All is lost.”</p> - -<p>“Newspapers too reported that the Italians continued -to fire at us for twenty-four hours after we -had fired the last shot.”</p> - -<p>“More men were killed during the armistice than -in the bloodiest battle,” an officer grumbled.</p> - -<p>He who had buried his face in his hands now -looked up:</p> - -<p>“Pacificism has begun with more bloodshed than -war. If we had held the front for another two weeks -what has happened to us would have happened in -Italy. That was the reason they hurried so. That<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> -was why we had to capitulate without conditions. -The trouble was with the reserves; they were in -communication with Budapest. They received -wireless messages from the National Council....”</p> - -<p>This talk reminded me of the message Károlyi -sent in the name of the government to the Higher -Command: “I freely accept responsibility for -everything.” He also declared that: “The popular -Hungarian government desires to take all steps for -peace negotiations itself.” Originally he wanted to -go personally to Padua, but was prevented by the -Higher Command. Yesterday the rumour got about -that as he could not negotiate with the Italians who -had been charged by the Entente to represent it in -its dealings with the Monarchy, he had appealed to -Franchet d’Esperay, the Commander-in-chief on the -Balkan front. The French General had answered -that before he would negotiate with him, all the -troops on the Hungaro-Serbian frontier must retire -fifteen kilometres into Hungarian territory and that -the German troops be disarmed within a fortnight. -The abandonment of Hungarian territory was required.... -We must oust our last friends, who still -defend our frontiers which our own people have forsaken. -Give up Hungarian territory.... There -can be only one answer to that: a refusal.... But -rumour says otherwise: Károlyi is going with his -adherents to Belgrade, perhaps he has gone -already.... Incomprehensible! Surely I have not -dreamt it? I read in a newspaper the report of the -Chief of the General Staff that in consequence of the -armistice all hostilities had ceased on the Italian -front. What are the negotiations of Belgrade about?</p> - -<p>There was a great noise in front of the door. Tea -was clamoured for and rough voices filled the room. -Some of the talk was bitter. Most of the men -coming from Austria had been robbed of everything. -In Vienna Red Guards robbed the Hungarians at -the railway stations. Their haversacks had been -taken, some had their coats torn off their backs, -their boots, rations, even their pocket-knives had -been filched from them. They came home hungry -and furious and clamouring.</p> - -<p>Then I caught sight of the sergeant with the red -cockade. He mixed with the men and whispered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -secretively with first one then another. I asked a -tall soldier, with a peasant’s face, if all the men were -coming home. Were there no troops remaining on -the frontier to defend the country?</p> - -<p>“To be sure we don’t stop there; we are going -home; we even left the guns as soon as the news -reached us that we need no longer be soldiers.” He -produced a crumpled copy of a radical evening paper -from the pocket of his coat and waved it in his hand. -“Here, in this paper too it is written that the -Minister of War has said himself: ‘Now we have -peace.’”</p> - -<p>So the War Minister’s announcement: “I do not -want to see any more soldiers” had already reached -the front. The fatal words were lying in wait on -every road by which Hungarian soldiers were -coming home.</p> - -<p>It was about eleven o’clock when I went off duty. -As I went through the gate two men slunk to the -wall. They were soldiers—officers. One of them -spoke excitedly and snatched at his head. He gave -me the impression that he was mad. “I brought -the regiment home fully equipped and in perfect -order, reported at the War Office, offered my services -to the country, and they told me to disarm and go -home....”</p> - -<p>I heard no more, but that was enough. We could -have no hope in those who had come as far as this. -But perhaps somewhere else, far from the town, -somebody will be found who can keep his men in -hand, march them to the capital, and disperse -Károlyi’s rabble. That is the only hope left to us, -there is no other.</p> - -<p>Through the noisy thoroughfares the tram wound -its way into dark side-streets. From St. Rocus’ -chapel I walked home. In our street the steps of a -patrol resounded. I turned rapidly into the house. -Behind me the shriek of a woman rent the silence of -the night. As I ran up the stairs my mother stood in -the ante-room waiting for me. Goodness knows how -long she had been waiting, but she did not reproach -me. I could see by her face that she was worried. -Only when I went to bed did she say imploringly: -“Another time don’t stay so late.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 6th.</i></p> - -<p>I feel so queer. I feel as though there were an open -wound in my head from which blood was spreading -over my thoughts. How long can one bear this kind -of thing? Something must happen.... We always -say that, and yet one hopeless day passes after the -other. All that happens is that we get news of some -further disaster. The whole country is being -pillaged. Escaped convicts, straggling Russian -prisoners, degraded soldiers, murderers are plundering -country houses, farms, whole villages, and inciting -the mob to violence. Alarming news comes -from all parts of the country.</p> - -<p>Somebody came this morning from the County of -Arad. Algyest; an unknown little village, which -does not even appear on the map, and yet it is very -dear to my heart. There, on the banks of the river -Körös, are an old garden and an ancient house under -the poplars.... It has been broken into and -pillaged. And as I heard of this, I understood the -tragedy of every despoiled castle, of every ruined -home in Hungary. Smoking walls, empty rooms.... -The venerable manor-house with its loggia was not -mine, yet this misfortune touched me to the quick: -they have injured the past summers of my childhood. -They have trodden down the paths along which, in -memory, I still wandered with my grandmother. -They have defiled the slope of the chapel hill where -I played so often in happier days. They did not -shrink from breaking into the crypt. They even<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -robbed those who had retired there for their last -sleep in the dim twilight, generation after generation.</p> - -<p>The incited Roumanian peasants wanted to beat -the inhabitants of the house to death; and while the -latter fled secretly, the wild horde, under the guidance -of the village schoolmaster, rushed in with -scythes and hatchets; and whatever they could not -carry off they destroyed in an orgy of havoc. The -fine old books of the library they tore from their -shelves and trampled into the mud. The portraits -of the ancient landlords they hacked with axes, -pierced their eyes and cut out the canvas in the place -of the heart. Persian carpets were cut into bits and -carried off. Like madmen they smashed and destroyed -till night fell; then they made bonfires with -the furniture many centuries old. The old well they -filled to the brim with debris of Old Vienna porcelain, -with splinters of broken crystal.</p> - -<p>How often have I not looked into the clear water -of that well at the reflection of my childish face, -and put my tongue out at myself; how often have I -not chased butterflies near it and on the sunlit paths -of the warm, rose-scented garden, which led beyond -the firs into the wilds.... Velvety moss grew on -the edge of the roads, under the shade of the trees. -It grew also on the stone seat at the bottom of the -garden, where one was safe from the disturbing intrusion -of grown-ups. One could climb up on the -seat and look over the hedge into the main road. -Rumbling carts passed in the soft white dust, and -the Roumanian peasants used to doff their caps to -me when they caught sight of me. “Naptye buna!” -I nodded to them. I knew old Todyert, and -Lisandru and Petru, who was my mother’s godchild. -They spoke their own tongue, nobody ever harmed -them, their teacher knew nothing but Roumanian, -nor their priest, and yet they were paid and looked -after by the Hungarian state. So it was elsewhere too. -The Hungarians did not oppress its foreign-tongued -brethren, who for centuries in troublesome times, -escaping the oppression of Mongols, Tartars, Turks, -and of their own blood, sought refuge in our midst. -Had it oppressed them there would be no German, -Slovak, Ruthenian, or Serb in our country to-day; -and yet these people shout now in mad hatred that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -everybody who is Hungarian ought to be knocked -on the head.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus15" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus15.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">“THE TRAGEDY OF EVERY RUINED HOME.”</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_86"><i>To face p. 86.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>To attain this result two parties worked hard. -The Roumanian propaganda and Károlyi’s satellites -undermined the hill from both sides. They met -halfway in the tunnel, the Roumanian agitators and -the Hungarian traitors. That was one of the plans -of Károlyi’s camp. To create the <i>sine qua non</i> of -their power, disruption, they sent their agents to the -regions inhabited by these nationalities and stirred -them up against the Hungarians. In the Hungarian -regions it was class hatred that was used to incite -the people to robbery. And the people became intoxicated: -the sufferings of the long years of war -boiled up furiously.</p> - -<p>Everybody expected that the soldiers, when they -came back one day from the battlefield, would -question those who had exploited and starved the -people and got rich by staying at home while the -soldiers were suffering at the front. In the last -years of the war the embittered soldiers at the front -talked of pogroms “when the war was over.” The -nation was preparing for a reckoning and its fist rose -slowly, terribly, over the heads of the guilty.</p> - -<p>But a devilish power had now suddenly thrust -that fist aside. The accumulated hatred must be -turned into a new channel away from the Galician -immigrants, profiteers, usurers—against the Hungarian -manors and castles, against the Hungarian -authorities.</p> - -<p>It was with shame and bitterness that I heard -the news. The country folk here and there, even -those of Hungarian blood, destroy, under the -guidance of government agitators, the homes of the -Hungarian landlords. The people satisfy their own -conscience by repeating what they have been taught: -“Now that there is a republic, everything belongs -to everybody.” And well-to-do farmers go with their -carts to the manors to carry off other people’s -property. The authorities are helpless: the fury -of the excited people has driven away the magistrates -and petty officials. The excuse for this is readily -forthcoming. During the war-time administration -the local government officials were charged to collect -from the producer the necessary wheat and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -cattle, and they also selected those who had to do -war-work. They distributed sugar, flour, oil and -the necessary subsidies. Consequently they were -frequently accused of having kept the surplus for -themselves and they were hated for everything that -went wrong. This hatred served as a side-channel to -those who feared pogroms, and cunningly they made -use of it. About three thousand of these officials were -driven with cudgels from the villages and many were -beaten to death.</p> - -<p>Thus it happened that the communes were left to -themselves. As a result of agitation the people -would not listen any longer to their priests, and many -of the school-teachers had become tainted with the -infection. Order disappeared. Disguised as popular -apostles, the agitators of the National Council—journalists, -waiters, cabaret-dancers, kinematograph -actors and white-slave traffickers, invaded the -country-side. Practically on the day of the -revolution in Budapest local National Councils were -formed everywhere. As if executing a pre-arranged -plan, at an inaudible command, the Jewish leaders -of the trade-unions, the Jewish officials of the workmen’s -clubs, usurped authority. They knew the -battle cries that impressed the crowd, and they kept -in close touch with the rebels in the capital. They -at once took their seats in the communal councils -and assumed the direction of affairs amid the confusion -they themselves had produced. Appealing to -the National Council of Pest they issued orders to -provincial towns and villages as well, and in this -humiliating state of lethargy everybody obeyed.</p> - -<p>Károlyi’s revolution was engineered almost -exclusively by Jews. They make no secret of it, -they boast of it. And with a never satisfied greed -they gather the reward of their achievement. They -occupy every empty place. In the government -there are officially three, in reality five, Jewish -ministers.</p> - -<p>Garami, Jászi, Kunfi, Szende and Diener-Dénes -have control over the Ministries of Commerce, of -the mayors and the communes. The vile spell which -had benumbed the capital cast its evil eye over the -Nationalities, of Public Welfare and Labour, of -Finance and of Foreign Affairs. By means of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -Police department of the Home Office they have -control over the police and the political secret -service: they have placed at its head two Jews, -former <i>agents provocateurs</i>. The right-hand man of -the Minister of War is a Jew who was formerly a -photographer. The president of the Press Bureau is -a Jew and so is the Censor. Most of the members of -the National Council are Jews. Jews are the -Commander of the garrison, the Government Commissary -of the Soldiers’ Council, the head of the -Workers’ Council. Károlyi’s advisers are all Jews, -and the majority of those who started last night -for Belgrade to meet the Commander-in-Chief of the -Balkan front, the French General Franchet -d’Esperay, are Jews.</p> - -<p>Incomprehensible journey! Carefully hidden, but -still there, in the semi-official paper of the government, -there is given the news which ought to render -any further negotiations concerning the armistice -perfectly unnecessary. I have copied it word for -word:</p> - -<p>“In consequence of the armistice as agreed between -the plenipotentiaries of the High Command of -the Royal Italian Army, acting for the Allies and -the United States of America on the one side and the -plenipotentiaries of the High Command of the -Austro-Hungarian Army on the other, all further -hostilities on land, on water and in the air are to be -suspended at 3 p.m. on the 4th of November all -along the Austrian and Hungarian front.”</p> - -<p>What then do Károlyi and his associates want to -negotiate about in Belgrade?</p> - -<p>An angry protest rose in me. Michael Károlyi -and his minister Jászi; Baron Hatvany, the delegate -of the National Council; the Commissary of the -Workers’ Council, a radical journalist; the delegate -of the Soldiers’ Council; Captain Csernyák, a -cashiered officer ... how dare these men speak in -the name of Hungary?</p> - -<p>I became restless. The walls of my room seemed -to be closing in upon me, caging me. The room, -the house, the town, had all at once become too small -for me. What was happening beyond them? Was -salvation on its way? It must be quick, for the flood -is rising, swelling, it has reached our neck, to-morrow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -it will drown us. I could stay at home no longer. I -must do something; walk, run, tire myself out. The -anxieties of the last few days have whipped me into -action. Suddenly I realised that my own inactivity -was part of the great culpable inactivity of the -nation. I too was guilty of lethargy. No longer must -I content myself with accusing others, no longer expect -action from them alone. Dimly, despairingly, -I realised that henceforward I must expect something -from my own self.</p> - -<p>But what could I do, I who have lived a retired -and almost solitary life, I who could do nothing but -love my country and depict its beauty with my pen? -What is the good of speaking of one’s country when -a whole town, with a foreign soul, laughs in one’s -face? What good is its beauty when millions tread -it under their feet?</p> - -<p>Despondently I walked slowly through the badly -lit, dingy streets. At the gate of the Museum a -sailor was standing, a rifle over his shoulder -and a revolver in his belt. Opposite, under -the porch of the old House of Parliament, soldiers -were unloading heavy boxes from a motor lorry and -dragging them into the building. This building, in -which Francis Deák had once poured out his soul -before the National Assembly of old, was now the -headquarters of the revolutionary Soldiers’ Council. -Its organiser, Joseph Pogány, whom Károlyi had -nominated Government’s Commissary, had by now -risen to such power that he could effectively oppose -the Minister of War.</p> - -<p>“What is there in those boxes?” a slatternly -servant girl asked a soldier.</p> - -<p>“Bandages,” replied the soldier, and winked at -her; “but we bring the best of it at night!” As -soon as he noticed me he shouted out threateningly: -“Get away from here! Down from the foot-path!”</p> - -<p>I noticed then that there were machine-guns on the -lorry, and that two words were repeated on all the -boxes: <i>Danger</i> and <i>Cartridges</i>.</p> - -<p>The Minister of War orders the ammunition at the -front to be thrown away, while the Commissary of -the Soldiers’ Council accumulates it in the heart of -the capital. Is it accidental or is there a connection -between the two?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span></p> - -<p>I walked for a long time in my lonely sorrow, and -presently I reached the banks of the Danube. In -front of me the Elizabeth Bridge, like a crested -monster, strode across the river with a single stride, -its back shining with sundry lamps. Above it stood -the solid mass of St. Gellert’s Hill, and under it glided -the river’s cool stream, carrying with it dark, silent -ships. Here and there a solitary murky pier clung -to the shore, and the reflection of low-burning street-lamps -slipped shuddering into the deep.</p> - -<p>A breeze came from the hills. It will bring frost -to-night. And at night the houses on the shore close -their eyes so that they may see no more. For every -now and then little, preying boats glide over the cold -water. A shot is fired. There is a mysterious -splash.... Everybody knows about it; nobody -interferes. In 1918, between Buda and Pest, as in -the lawless days of old, armed pirates stop ships. -National sailor-guards play highwayman on the -Danube!</p> - -<p>I looked behind me. Among the badly-lit streets -and dark houses who can tell where is the lair of -robbers and murderers? The clamour of the busy -streets, the silence of the alleys, hide crime. The -town is blood-guilty: the murderers of Stephen Tisza -walk freely among us.</p> - -<p>A stranger turned the corner. I could not help -thinking: was it he?—Or that other one who sat in -a motor-car and smoked a cigar? Everything is possible -here. Steps followed me, voices. Is he among -those who are walking there?—One of those whose -voices are raised in threats over there? The -authorities are no longer pursuing their enquiries. -The police searched only to make sure that it could -not find. But Tisza’s blood cannot be washed away. -It is there and it cries to Heaven.</p> - -<p>I reached home tired out. Why had I gone out -at all? What did I want? Was I looking for anybody? -At least I might have seen a familiar face -coming towards me, greet me, stop and tell me something -that would have raised hope. I might have -heard that General Kövess was marching on Pest -with his returning army, or that Mackensen had -gathered the Széklers round him in Transylvania. -So this was what I had been seeking! I wanted to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -hear the sound of a name, the name of a man who was -brave and strong, who knew how to organise and -how to give orders, who could lay his hand on -destiny at the brink of the abyss.</p> - -<p>I found my room warm and cosy, for my mother -had lit a fire while I was out. Through the open door -of the stove the light of the flames danced into the -room and was reflected from the parquet flooring. -Stray rays flickered to the book-case and passed over -the gilding of old volumes.</p> - -<p>Tea was brought in and my mother came with it. -She was wearing a black silk dress with a white lace -collar, and the scent she always used brought a faint -delicate fragrance into the room. After the disorder -of the muddy streets the purity of this quietude was -striking, and already I felt refreshed.</p> - -<p>Later on I had a visitor, Countess Armin Mikes, -and her news dispelled my temporary peace of mind. -She was tired, her face was drawn as though she had -been ill, and her eyes were filled with tears. I knew -what was passing within her: the death of -Transylvania.</p> - -<p>“Have you heard,” I asked her hesitatingly, -“that the United States have recognised Roumanians -right over Transylvania? Her <i>right</i>.... And our -traitors are going to hand it over.”</p> - -<p>It was too terrible. The United States addressed -the aboriginal Székler inhabitants concerning the -rights of immigrant Roumanian shepherds. The United -States: a young nation which, so far as civilization -is concerned, did not exist at a time when Transylvania -had already been united to Hungary for half -a thousand years!</p> - -<p>“Not an inch of ground could be taken from us -even now if only the army made a stand on the -frontier.”</p> - -<p>“If Tisza were alive!”</p> - -<p>“If he were alive they would kill him again.”</p> - -<p>We became silent, and for a long time the only -sound was the crackling of the embers in the stove.</p> - -<p>“All conspired against him,” at last said Countess -Mikes. She was a close relation of Tisza and had been -a faithful friend to him in the height of his power as -well as in his downfall. “When I went there his -blood was still on the floor of the hall. There was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -also the mark of a bullet.... He lost very much -blood. He bled to death, that is why his face became -so frightfully white.”</p> - -<p>“And his wife?”</p> - -<p>“She sat motionless near him and held his -hand.... Poor Stephen, his body was not yet cold -when an officer presented himself at the house. He -produced a paper which showed that he was -aide-de-camp to Linder and said that he had orders -to ascertain with his own eyes if Tisza was really -dead. He wouldn’t go until he had accomplished -his task. A soldier was with him: he had been -sent by the Soldiers’ Council. The officer looked in -at the door of the death chamber. When he saw -that Tisza was dead, he had the cynical impudence -to express the condolences of the whole government -with the family. Béla Radvánsky told him that we -did not require them. Later on somebody came -from the police with a police surgeon. It was done -for appearance’s sake. Of course they couldn’t trace -the criminals.... A telegram arrived from -Károlyi, and a wreath—both were thrown away.”</p> - -<p>“But why hadn’t Tisza gone away?”</p> - -<p>“He said he would not go into hiding.” Then my -guest told me further details of the murder.</p> - -<p>Already in the early morning of the fateful day -people were loitering about the villa. Denise -Almássy came early and begged Tisza to leave the -place and to go to one of his friends, as his life was -not safe there. Tisza answered that he would not -go uninvited into any man’s house. Meanwhile a -crowd was gathering in the road outside. The mob, -always ready to insult greatness in misfortune, -cursed Tisza with threats. The crowd increased. -The garden gate was broken in. Soldiers noisily invaded -the place. A Jew in a mackintosh, who -seemed to be drunk, led them on. When they -reached the villa itself their leader asked to be -allowed to speak alone with Tisza. The soldiers -remained in the hall. Tisza received the stranger. -He noticed that the man had a revolver, and, with -a movement of his hand, showed him that he too had -one in his pocket. The man was cowed by this and -asked Tisza if he was not hiding a certain judge of -a military tribunal who was his enemy and with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -whom he wanted to settle. Tisza answered that -nobody was hiding in his house. At this the man -and the soldiers left. Did they come to inspect the -premises and get “the lie of the land” or did they -come with the intention of killing him?</p> - -<p>In several provincial towns it was reported at -three o’clock in the afternoon, when Tisza was still -alive, that he had been killed. In the suburbs too -the rumour of his assassination spread early in the -forenoon, and at about four o’clock, in the Otthon -Literary Club, Paul Kéri, Károlyi’s confidential man, -was heard by several people to remark, after looking -at his watch: “Tisza’s life has an hour and a half -more to run.”</p> - -<p>The policeman who had been sent there by the -Wekerle government to guard Tisza were replaced by -others before the 31st of October. The new men -were restless, and their sergeant asked Tisza to obtain -reinforcements. Tisza replied that as he had not -asked for any guards it was not his business to ask -for reinforcements. In the afternoon the sergeant -came and said that he and his men were going to -leave. It was impossible to telephone from the -villa: the exchange answered but did not make the -required connection. Everything seemed to be conspiring -against him. The people in the house saw -the police no more after this. They had not left, but -they did not show themselves. Later on Tisza’s -brother-in-law and his nephew came and brought -news of the upheaval in the town and said that the -power had fallen into the hands of Michael Károlyi. -Tisza wanted to go down to the Progressive Club and -speak to his adherents, but his wife implored him not -to go. So he sent his brother-in-law and asked his -nephew to go with him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile it was getting dark, and the rabble in -the street assumed a more and more threatening -attitude. The gate of the garden was again being -forced. No help could be expected from any -quarter. The house was now besieged, and there -was no way out....</p> - -<p>Where were Tisza’s friends and followers at this -time? In the hour of his Golgotha there were but -two women to share it with him. And history will -not forget the names of those two women.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span></p> - -<p>About five in the afternoon the shooting in the -street became louder. The house-bell rang. The -valet ran in and said that eight armed soldiers were -in the house. Meanwhile two soldiers went down to -the policemen and disarmed them in the name of the -National Council. They made no resistance: eight -men submitted to two. All this time the valet with -tears in his eyes was imploring his master to escape by -the window. Tisza put his hand on the man’s -shoulder: “I thank you for your faithful services. -God bless you!” Then the three were left alone for -a short time, he and the two women. “I will not run -away; I will die just as I have lived,” said Tisza. He -took a revolver and went out into the hall. His wife -and Denise Almássy went with him. Soldiers with -raised arms were waiting for him, cigarettes in their -mouths.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” Tisza asked.</p> - -<p>“We want Count Stephen Tisza.”</p> - -<p>“I am he.”</p> - -<p>The soldiers shouted at him to put his revolver -down. Tisza had said several times during the day -that he would defend himself if it could do any good. -But now he put down his revolver. This showed -that he considered the situation hopeless. Yet he -never winced for an instant. All his life he had been -strong and brave, and now he was true to himself. -He did not ask for his life but faced death boldly. -One of the soldiers began a harangue, telling Tisza -that he was the cause of the war and must pay for -it. This soldier had carefully manicured nails.... -Another said that he had been a soldier for eight -years and that Tisza was to blame for it. Tisza -answered: “I did not want the war.” At this -moment a clock struck somewhere in the dark. One -of the soldiers exclaimed: “Your last hour has -struck.” Then the cigarette-smoking assassins fired -a volley. One bullet struck Tisza in the chest, and -he fell forward. Denise Almássy was wounded too -and collapsed. Tisza was lying on the floor when -they fired again into him. Then they left.</p> - -<p>In the dim light of the hall, filled with the smoke -of gunpowder, the dying Tisza lay on the floor, and -the powerful hand which had once governed a kingdom -waved in its last movement tenderly towards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -those whom he loved: “Do not cry.... It had -to be!”</p> - -<p>So he died as he had lived. His sublime fate had -been accomplished. Life and death had produced a -greater scene than the genius of the Greek writers of -tragedies could accomplish. The fate of a whole -nation is reflected in the bitter bloody fate of one -of her sons. Tisza fell like an oak—and in his fall -tore up the soil in which his life was rooted. While -he stood, nobody knew how tall he was. Like a tree -in the wilderness, it was possible only to measure -him when he had fallen.</p> - -<p>Stephen Tisza died in the same hour as Hungary. -Those who murdered him will die in the hour of -Hungary’s resurrection.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 7th.</i></p> - -<p>I was due to go on duty at the railway station -this morning. I started from home in the dark. -Rain was falling. Under the occasional lamps the -murky neglected asphalt was like the rough skinned -hide of some giant animal. The house-doors were -still closed, and in front of the sleeping buildings -the garbage stood in boxes and baskets on the edge of -the pavement. Here and there in the dim light of -the streets an early-riser passed.</p> - -<p>The trams were filled with workmen. Sitting -opposite me two evil-intentioned eyes glared at me -out of a heavy coarse face. They were looking at -the crown over the red cross on my coat.</p> - -<p>“Don’t wear that, there is no more crown.”</p> - -<p>“There is for me, and I worked under that sign -during the whole war.” The man grumbled, but -said no more to me. Later, I was told that for -wearing this emblem of charity a lady was hit in the -face in the street.</p> - -<p>At the station there was dense, frightful disorder. -With a loud echo crowded trains rolled under the -glass roof. The carriages were like ruins and their -walls were riddled with bullet holes, for out on the -open track bands of robbers shoot at the trains. The -windows were smashed and the steps were falling -off. Men were standing, shivering with cold, on -the roofs, the steps, and even on the buffers of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -in-coming trains. The noise was appalling. Thousands -of returning soldiers fought their way in wild -disorder.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus16" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus16.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">“ON THE ROOFS OF THE INCOMING TRAINS.”</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_96"><i>To face p. 96.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>On the concrete floor of the platform, ankle-deep -in mud, the splashing of innumerable shortened steps -made a sickly noise. Russian prisoners, Serbians, -Roumanians, stormed the waggons before they were -quite empty. Home.... Home....</p> - -<p>They pushed each other, swore. They climbed -in by the windows because there was no more room -by the doors. A man employed at the station told -me that during the war the daily number of passengers -had been about thirty thousand. Now two -hundred thousand come and go in a day. Trains -able to carry 1500 passengers now carry 9000. -Travelling is deadly dangerous: the axles cannot -bear the excessive loads, and out of the desperate -chaos there comes occasionally the news of some -awful catastrophe. Hundreds of soldiers coming from -the Italian front were swept off the roof at the entrance -of tunnels. Corpses mark the road home.</p> - -<p>Another train entered with shrill noise, bringing -refugees and soldiers from the undefended frontiers. -The refugees spread their news. Czech <i>komitadjis</i> -mixed with regulars have invaded Upper Hungary. -The Czechs have crossed the frontier in Trencsén -and are marching on Pressburg. Wherever they -pass they drive the Hungarian officials in front of -them, and impose levies.</p> - -<p>A woman from Nagy Becskerek lamented loudly, -plaintively, like the whistling of the wind in the -chimney.</p> - -<p>“Dear, oh dear, the town is in the hands of the -Serbians. In Ujvidék they are looting. They cross -the frontier and nobody resists them. Only the -German soldiers are pulling up the rails. And the -Roumanians!... The Roumanians!...”</p> - -<p>A Székler woman sobs desperately.</p> - -<p>“And the government has forbidden any armed -resistance. Why, in the name of goodness, why?... -How can one understand it? For a Galician trench, -for a rock on the Carso thousands and thousands of -Hungarians have died. Yet nobody defends our -own soil! Wherever it has been attempted -threatening orders have been sent from Budapest.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p> - -<p>The government has given orders that no resistance -is to be offered to the foreign troops, so the -authorities have to content themselves with protesting -and let the inhabitants remain quietly in -their homes. No opposition whatever to the troops -of occupation!... And if this order is disregarded -anywhere, detachments of sailors are sent from -Budapest—escaped convicts and robbers, who arrest -the organisers of patriotic resistance. Agitators -creep among the people arming for resistance, Jews -from Pest who incite to pillage. The people, stupid -and misguided, crowd round them. Then things -move quickly: they are told that peace has come -and that everything is theirs. The crowd goes mad. -It cares no more for country, for the enemy. There -is no more resistance and all their anger is directed -against the authorities and the landlords. The -rabble start pillaging. There is general disorder and -in the upheaval somebody turns up who, on pretence -of restoring order, calls in the army. A foreign -armed patrol enters: eighteen men who stick up their -flag and beat down the Hungarian arms. And our -folk just stare and look as if they were sleep-walking -lunatics.</p> - -<p>That is what they say, all of them, wherever they -come from. One Hungarian town after the other -falls into enemy hands. What we have held for a -thousand years is lost in a single hour, and foreign -occupations spread over Hungary’s body like the -spots of a plague. The names of towns and villages.... -A wild, desperate shout for help rises continually -in me: “Is there nobody who can save us?”</p> - -<p>The crowd of refugees rolled past me.</p> - -<p>“They have pillaged our house! They have burnt -down our cottage!”... Two men lifted a half-naked -old man out of a cattle truck. His beautiful -noble gray head wobbled as they carried him. His -face looked like wax. Whence did they come? -Nobody inquired. From everywhere, all round us!... -And the refugees are being crammed into hotels, -unheated emergency dwellings, cold school-rooms. -At the stations mountains of luggage grow up on the -platforms: huge piles, the remaining possessions of -whole families; bundles tied up in tablecloths; -washing-baskets; crammed perambulators; gladstone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -bags; fowl-houses; trunks and portmanteaux. -And the pathetic piles grow and grow from hour to -hour in wild disorder....</p> - -<p>More Russians were coming from the entrance. -Soldiers hustled the people with the butt-ends of -their rifles. “Go on, Ruski!” A heavy animal -stench drifted behind them. Desperate men -struggled round the piles of trunks.... A boy -dragging an immense old leather bag.... In front -of a broken trunk an old lady kneels in the mud. -She wears a sable coat and her head is covered with -a peasant woman’s neckerchief, just as she had -managed to escape. She weeps loudly, wringing her -delicate hands. All her possessions have been stolen -on the way. Nobody heeds her. Children shriek and -cannot tell whence they came. They want their -mother, lost during the flight. In one carriage a -little girl has been trampled to death in the throng. -Soldiers carry her dead on a stretcher. From the -other side across the rails, a woman comes running: -she jumps wildly and her hair flutters madly in front -of her eyes. She screams. She has not yet got there, -she has seen nothing, but she knows; it was hers, it -was hers....</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Polish Jews, slinking along the walls, -bargained.... They pounced on the soldiers back -from the front, and bought Italian money. At the -exit armed sailors made a disturbance and took eggs -and fat from the baskets of peasant women. Agitators -with red ribbons round their arms, delegates of -the Soldiers’ Council, distributed revolutionary -handbills; one of them made a speech. The soldiers -surrounded him, some listened, some laughed, -scratched their heads, and, as they went on, no -longer saluted their superiors.</p> - -<p>A train came in with a shrill cry, as if it were a -refugee itself, panting and shabby after its long -flight, and poured out more people. Wounded -soldiers dragged themselves to the refreshment room. -The foot of one was wrapped in a newspaper: the -red guards at the Austrian frontier had taken his -boots. More refugees. Once they had a home, they -had a fireside.... Now all is lost! Hunger stares -imploringly out of their eyes and they reach for their -crust of bread as if they were asking for alms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> - -<p>What hast thou done, Károlyi?</p> - -<p>I went home with a reeling head. Morning had -extinguished the gas lamps a long while ago. I -looked in the faces that passed me in the gray light -of day. Are these refugees too? The town around -me was shabby and dirty. Grimy flags flapped from -the houses in the cold air. They were still there to -proclaim their impudent lie—“the people’s victory.”</p> - -<p>We have lost the war. Foreign troops invade -Hungary, tens of thousands of refugees tramp the -streets, and Budapest feasts her traitors and stands -beflagged in the centre of the collapsing country.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 8th.</i></p> - -<p>The wind chases the clouds above the Danube. It -whistles down the chimneys. The streets of Buda -shiver between the houses.</p> - -<p>The tram to our hills was practically empty. -Everybody has come to town and the houses stand -abandoned. The strokes of axes resound in the -woods, and trembling townspeople steal scraps of wood -along the roadside. Shabby clerks, teachers, women -pick up brushwood in the thickets. Now and then -a shot is heard from the hills. Thousands of disbanded -soldiers have taken their rifles with them -and are shooting game freely all over the country. -The woods are crowded with poachers. Blood-stains. -A rotting carcase. Hungary’s famous game is on -the verge of extinction.</p> - -<p>I reached our villa and walked round the abandoned -house. It has not yet been broken into. The wind -was twisting the dead leaves along the road into -ropes. There was a dry rattle everywhere, and the -branches of the bare trees knocked together in the -moving air. An old woman walked down the road -and her thin silken skirt fluttered in the wind. She -must have known better days, and now she carried -firewood on her back. There is no wood to be got in -town. What will happen in winter? We shall -freeze....</p> - -<p>Coming back I bought a newspaper through the -tram window. Many hands were stretched out. -Opposite me a young ensign bought one too. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -torn off insignia of his rank had left their mark on -the collar of his uniform. Well disposed officers have -ceased to wear uniforms. It has become a livery of -shame, and is worn only by those who have nothing -else to wear. This one looked like one of that category. -Only deserters, civilians, and those who shirked -the war now wear uniforms.</p> - -<p>I began to read the midday paper. Belgrade.... -Everything around me disappeared. Through the -printed letters of the paper I saw the Serbian town -as I had known it long ago. The Danube was rolling -past the wharf, there was the high fort, once -Hunyadi’s impregnable Hungarian stronghold, the -Konak; and between the trees beyond the town -the small convent where, under the oil-painted planks -of the floor, without any monument, the massacred -bodies of the last Obrenovic and his mutilated Serbian -queen, Draga, lie. Then I thought of the garden of -Topcider and its oriental little Kiosk where Serbian -Gypsies used to fiddle and sing. Officers, in brilliant -uniforms after the Russian pattern, took their afternoon -substitute for tea at small round tables, eating -onions with bread. Some of them had the ribbon -of an Order on their chest. A Serbian explained to -me proudly that this Order was bestowed only on -those who had taken an active part in the events that -cleared the road to the throne for Peter Karageorgevic.</p> - -<p>Herds of cattle were driven through the ill-paved -streets. Manure, dirt, bugs, rubbish, and flies—big, -shiny, blue flies. The Skupstina.... When I saw -that I could not help thinking of Hungary’s house -of Parliament. The two buildings proclaimed both -the past and the culture of the two peoples. Ours is -a Gothic blossom, with its roots in the Danube, the -bed of which is the grave of our first conqueror, -Attila, who received tribute from Rome and Byzantium, -and sleeps there his sleep of fifteen hundred -years. When I saw the Serbian Parliament it was -a building like a stable, with wooden benches in it -and the walls covered with red, white and blue stuff. -Its air was reeking with the scent of onions and -sheep, while the windows were obscured with fly -marks.</p> - -<p>Since I had been there this small Balkan town must -have suffered much. The soldiers of Mackensen and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -Kövess had passed victoriously over its ruins. Now -Károlyi and Jászi, with the delegates of the Workers’ -and Soldiers’ Council, go there a-begging.</p> - -<p>Why did they go there? Why just there? The -jerking of the wheels of the tram seemed to repeat -rhythmically “Why just there, why just there....”</p> - -<p>According to the official news the French general -was haughty and ruthless. He took Károlyi’s memorandum, -turned his back on him, and banged the -door....</p> - -<p>This memorandum reveals the unsavoury truth -when it complains that within twenty-four hours after -assuming power Károlyi had promised to the Allies -to lay down arms at once, but his offer had been -prevented by the common High Command from reaching -its destination. The High Command had isolated -Hungary from the Allied powers, and had cut the -telephone wires. It had charged General Weber to -negotiate in the name of the old Monarchy with -General Diaz, the Italian Commander-in-Chief. -Károlyi’s memorandum protested against this because -“nobody but the delegates of the Hungarian people -are entitled to negotiate for independent Hungary. -This is the reason for our appearance,” ended this -disgraceful document.</p> - -<p>So it was nobody who called for them, nobody who -sent these people who claim to be the representatives -of the Hungarian people. Károlyi the gambler -gambles in Belgrade. He plays an iniquitous game. -He cheats for his own pocket while his own country -loses.</p> - -<p>The newspaper was executing a wild dance in my -hands while I read the memorandum. Surely men -have never written anything like this about their own -country. They go to ask for an armistice and accuse -us before our enemies. “We oppressed the nationalities, -we were tyrants....” I felt as if something -had been poured down my throat which it was impossible -to swallow. I choked for a time, and my -blood was beating a mad tattoo at the sides of my -head. He who wrote that lied in hatred, while those -who transmitted it were cretins or criminals.</p> - -<p>In his answer to the memorandum the French -general was insulting and contemptuous. The shame -of it all! They are slighted and we bear the disgrace.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -Every word of Franchet d’Esperay was a slap in the -face to Károlyi and his fellows. What unfathomable -contempt must have been felt by this old Norman -nobleman, this patriotic soldier, for Károlyi and -his Bolshevick Internationalist companions!</p> - -<p>Workers’ Council.... Soldiers’ Council....</p> - -<p>He looked sternly at the Semitic features of Jászi -and the faun-like face of Hatvany as he said:</p> - -<p>“You only represent the Hungarian race and not -the Hungarian people.”</p> - -<p>Then he answered the clumsy, cunning sentence of -the memorandum, sprung from the brain of some -journalistic fantast: “From the first of November -Hungary ceases to be a belligerent and becomes a -neutral country.”</p> - -<p>“The Hungarians have fought side by side with -the Germans and with the Germans they will suffer -and pay.”</p> - -<p>An answer to those who shouted in Parliament over -dying Hungary “we are friends of the Entente,” an -answer to Károlyi, who in the interest of his personal -ascendency intrigued with Prague, Bukarest and -Belgrade.</p> - -<p>“The Czechs, Slovakians, Roumanians and Yugo-Slavs -are the enemies of Hungary, and I have only -to give the order and you will be destroyed.”</p> - -<p>I forced my eyes to overcome my shame and -anger, and read on.</p> - -<p>Followed the conditions of the armistice.... Not -conditions, but orders born of revenge and hatred -dictated by the commander of an armed force to the -self-appointed, obtruding envoys of a disarmed -people.</p> - -<p>Horrible nightmare.... The Hungarian government -has to evacuate huge territories in the east and -in the south. Hungarian soil must be delivered -over to the Balkan forces. We must surrender from -the Szamos to the Maros-Tisza line, from the Danube -to the Sloveno-Croatian frontier, that which has -been ours for a thousand years.</p> - -<p>Eighteen points.... Eighteen blows in the face -of the nation. After this Hungary is a country no -longer, she is a surrounded quarry thrown to the fury -of the pack. The Kill....</p> - -<p>Poor country of mine, poor countrymen....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span></p> - -<p>Suddenly I saw the letters no more: something -had covered them, as the stones at the bottom of a -brook are rendered indistinct by the waves above. I -wiped my eyes and looked up. Had others read it -too? The little ensign had. He was weeping -silently. He sat there with his head bowed, crushing -the newspaper in his fist. I looked round. Faces -had changed since I had read the paper. The others -had read it too. Strangers began to talk to each -other excitedly:—“I always told you so, Károlyi -alone could bring us a good peace. He got it in -two days. It was said that he alone could save -us....”</p> - -<p>For an instant the misguided people seemed to -have regained their consciences. Terrified disappointment, -bitter complaints filled the car. Most of -them cursed the French general furiously, and remarks -of a new kind were heard about Károlyi too. -Something had become clear.... Or did I only see -my own views in the eyes of the others?</p> - -<p>“It isn’t all that,” said a gentleman to his neighbour; -“we must not judge hastily.” And he read -aloud that the delegates of the government had -made the signing of the armistice conditional. These -conditions were set out in a dispatch which was forwarded -through Franchet d’Esperay to Paris. “It -is clear,” the gentleman said, “that the government -will only sign the armistice if the Entente powers -guarantee the old frontiers of Hungary till the conclusion -of peace. Károlyi will manage the peace -treaty all right. His confidential friends say that he -can carry everything before him in Paris. He will -get peace in six weeks.”</p> - -<p>The exhausted people clung to these words. The -protesting telegram had destroyed the finality of the -catastrophe.... And those who a few minutes ago -had spoken desperately, sent their tired souls to sleep -with self-deceiving optimism. They became quiet. -They crowded together and looked out of the -window. A woman yawned aloud. Behind my back -they talked of the high prices: potatoes had gone -up again....</p> - -<p>When I came home my mother was sitting in -the little green room near the window. She sat -passively in the twilight, she who was always busy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -with something. When the door opened she turned -towards me and raised her head slightly to be kissed. -I saw in the twilight her kind blue eyes, which, in -spite of years, had retained their youth and lustre. -They now looked at me in indescribable grief. A -newspaper lay on the table.</p> - -<p>“Have you read it?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“I have....”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 9th.</i></p> - -<p>Huge white posters have appeared on the walls. -All along the streets everything is covered with -them. They are posted on the shop windows, on -the windows of the coffee-houses. They appear between -the announcements of the kinematographs in -the advertisement columns. Not orders, not regulations, -not proclamations: from far away I could see -it, one word at the top of them all: A BALLAD.</p> - -<p>It is an old, sweet word, one which seems to come -from olden days bringing a message to the new: a -ballad.... I scanned one of the posters, but was -unable to decipher the smaller words. I had to cross -the road. While doing so I pondered: will this -ballad contain that which we are waiting for, the -cry of Hungary’s agony? The rebelling voice of our -sufferings? Is it an old ballad, or one of the later -ones? Or is it by some misled poet who has helped -to burn his ancestor’s soil and had aided the band -of Jews to make the revolution? Has the erring soul -returned to the fold of his race and does he give voice -to the tortures of the betrayed Hungarian land into -which Balkan robbers are already setting their -teeth? Or is it by one who could shape into our -language the sufferings of homeless Dante, who could -put into verse the moaning of the dread storm that -rages over the Great Plain?</p> - -<p>Not they, it is not Hungarians who speak. The -sickly verses of one Renée Erdös polluted the air, -plastered up by the government all over the town.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“And he went to Belgrade, good Michael Karolyi</div> - <div class="verse indent13">sad Michael Karolyi</div> - <div class="verse indent13">great Michael Karolyi.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And this was stuck up on every house in Budapest.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -What a childish game! The ballad is meant -to create sympathy for Michael Károlyi, so that -anger against him shall not rise in people’s hearts; -it attempts to transfer to him the pity that the -nation should feel for itself. And as though by a -word of command, the whole press of Budapest is -writing in the same strain. The newspapers practically -hide the conditions of the armistice and enlarge -on the rude contempt of the French general. -In their columns Károlyi has became a martyr who -has suffered for the nation.</p> - -<p>The people in the street stopped and read the -ballad, and now and then somebody said: “Poor -Michael Károlyi!” But even while this was being -said bitter news spread over the town, news which -none could stop. The truth about the Belgrade -meeting has filtered through, and already people are -clenching their fists.</p> - -<p>Franchet d’Esperay had come to the meeting in -an aeroplane from Salonika. He stationed a guard -of honour in front of his hotel. He wore full dress -uniform, with all his decorations, and thus received -those whom he believed to be the envoys of -Hungary. Michael Károlyi and his friends appeared -in shooting-jackets, breeches, gaiters: as if they -were out for a holiday. The general glared in -astonishment at the motley company. He became -cold and contemptuous, shook hands with nobody, -and folded his arms over his chest. Astonished at -first, he became ironical as he listened to Károlyi’s -faulty speech. After taking possession of the -accusing memorandum (which had been edited by -Jászi) he ranged the company within the light of his -lamp and looked attentively at one after the other.</p> - -<p>“<i>Vous êtes Juif?</i>” he asked Hatvany; then -looking at Jászi and Károlyi, he said, “You are -Jews, too?”</p> - -<p>His face showed undisguised disgust when Károlyi -introduced to him, as an achievement of the revolution, -the delegates of the Workers’ and Soldiers’ -Council. He pointed at the collar of Csernyák, the -delegate of the Soldiers’ Council, whence the -insignia of rank had been removed: “<i>Vous êtes -tombés si bas?</i>” Then, instead of bowing, he threw -his head back haughtily, turned on his heel, and left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -them. He dined with his officers, and did not -invite the delegation, though the table had been -laid for them.</p> - -<p>The self-delegated men looked at each other in -dismay. How were they to report this to the befooled, -betrayed country, which had been rocked to -sleep for months by the recital of Károlyi’s connections -with the Allies, and the belief of a good peace?... -In their fear they accused each other, and one -of them said to Károlyi: “In Budapest you were -feasted like a demi-god, and here you are treated -like a dog....”</p> - -<p>Károlyi and his friends went without dinner that -day in Belgrade, and after his dinner General -Franchet d’Esperay put on his field uniform and -with hard words handed the delegation the terrible, -degrading conditions of the armistice.</p> - -<p>This happened in Belgrade on the 7th of -November. One day later, yesterday evening, the -members of the government went solemnly to the -railway station to accord a triumphant welcome to -the delegation. Countess Károlyi, Mrs. Jászi and -other “revolutionary ladies” (as they like to be -styled) were there too. But the festal crowd waited -in vain. Károlyi and his following dared not face -them.... They had stopped the special train at -a little side-station, got out quietly, and dispersed in -the ill-lit streets.</p> - -<p>It was through a back-door that they brought their -shame from Belgrade into the betrayed town.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 10th.</i></p> - -<p>A leaden gray rain is falling. From the wall of -the old neglected house opposite a big piece of -plaster is washed off and falls with a splash into the -street, where pieces of it fly in all directions. It is -Sunday. Nobody passes along the street. Only the -rain drives before the window. It comes and goes -again, and writes something on the panes.</p> - -<p>The republican party has called a mass meeting -for this afternoon. Organised labour and organising -good-for-nothings, the Soldiers’ Council, the officers, -the non-commissioned officers ... meetings everywhere. -And everywhere discourses on the supremacy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -of the people, its rights, democracy, independence -and freedom. But no mention is made of Belgrade. -There is no protest meeting or demonstration -against the conditions of the armistice. With its -cunning lies the faithful, servile press of Károlyi has -hoodwinked the crowd again. The town hides the -shame of Belgrade in silence, as if it were not its -concern, as if it had lost all self-respect. The -crowd, stupid and good-tempered, continues on the -road which it trod yesterday. Blind flocks of sheep -and herds of blinkered oxen, thoughtless and sightless -masses, following their degraded leader towards -the precipice. They are going, and why does he -delay who is to bring salvation?</p> - -<p>The rain writes ghostly characters on my window -as well as on the panes of the house opposite. That -is all; nothing else happens.</p> - -<p>Nothing? I must be mad to write such a thing. -Does not every day bring with it the collapse of -something which had always existed, ever since I -was born, and before that, long before that?... -It is incomprehensible. One reads only the news, -and when one has read that it seems impossible, and -one half expects somebody will laugh, or a voice will -tell us that it is not true and that everything is -really as it used to be. Yet we wait in vain.... -And again we believe that nothing will happen.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile loyal Bavaria has driven King Louis -out of the country. The Soldiers’ and Workers’ -Council in Saxony has made a proclamation to the -people: “The King has been deprived of his throne, -the Wettin dynasty has ceased to exist.” Baden has -expelled its ruler, and the Grand Duke of Hesse is a -prisoner of the mob. Wurtemburg, Brunswick, -Weimar.... Ancient thrones, legendary old -courts, centres of culture, art-loving little residences, -all collapse in a few minutes. It is as if some giant -Hatred roams abroad, demolishing everything it -finds standing, from east to west.</p> - -<p>All the faithful German princes have lost their -thrones. The only one who still wears a crown is the -one who has shown himself faithless—the -Hohenzollern down there in Roumania. And the -Kaiser has fled to Holland from his unhappy Empire.</p> - -<p>Kaiser Wilhelm has resigned his throne! As the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -news spreads this fresh token of the mutability of -human affairs causes a shudder even in those who -worked for it with hatred and received it with shouts -of triumph.</p> - -<p>Since Napoleon, nobody has been so violently hated -on this globe as he. Doubtless this will be the -measure of his importance in history. It will judge -his power by the fact that against Napoleon -England had allied only a fraction of Europe, while -against the Hohenzollern the whole world was forced -to rise in arms.</p> - -<p>The cause of the two Emperors’ downfall is the -same. Napoleon wanted to make France the first -power of the world, and Kaiser Wilhelm dreamt the -same dream for the German Empire. Neither of them -could stop half-way.</p> - -<p>Is it a Saint Helena that fate has in store for -Kaiser Wilhelm? Will the Dutch castle that has -received him turn out to be a replica of the -<i>Bellerophon</i>?</p> - -<p>The Kaiser was a friend of the Hungarians. Once -in the royal castle of Buda he proposed the health of -the Hungarian nation. Since the rule of the -Hapsburgs no crowned head has ever spoken to us -like that. His speech was printed in school books, -the children learned it by heart, and the memory of -the Kaiser stayed with us. But he never came again -to our midst. During the war he went to Vienna, -to Sophia and to Constantinople. He never stopped -at Budapest. And while the Hungarian people -waited for him whose soldiers had bled with ours at -three gates of our country, he was forced to bear in -mind the jealousy of Vienna. His picture was in the -shop-windows, Budapest had named its finest -boulevard after him, the colours of his Empire -floated everywhere and if his train touched the -country’s soil the newspapers wrote in his homage.</p> - -<p>In 1916 Tisza went to the German General Headquarters. -The Roumanians had just invaded -Transylvania and he asked for troops and help for -his hard-pressed country.</p> - -<p>“Will the Hungarians be grateful for it?” asked -the Kaiser.</p> - -<p>“We shall be grateful,” answered Stephen Tisza.</p> - -<p>They have torn the contract of our alliance, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -a common misfortune can write a more permanent -alliance than any human hand. Marshal Foch’s -document stating the conditions of the armistice -with Germany is the twin of the ruthless writing of -Belgrade. Wilson’s mask has fallen and the victors -beggar us and let loose upon us the blood-stained -cloud which comes from the East to cover the -despair of betrayed peoples.</p> - -<p>On this cloud obscure strangers steal over the -Russian border into the heart of Europe and join -with those whose features resemble theirs. And -there are such in Paris, in London, and in New York -too.... They have invaded the greater half of -Europe. In Russia Trotski-Bronstein, Krassin-Goldgelb, -Litvinoff-Finkelstein, Radek and Joffe are -all-powerful. In Munich Kurt Eisner is the master -and president of the Republic. In Berlin Beerfeld -is at the head of the Soldiers’ Council and Hirsch at -the Workmens’. In Vienna the power is in the -hands of Renner, Adler, Deutsch and Bauer. And -in Budapest....</p> - -<p>Is this all accidental?</p> - -<p>Carrion-crows on dying nations.... They hack -out the eyes that still see, they pierce the still -throbbing hearts with their beaks, tear shreds of -flesh from the convulsed members. And nowhere -does anyone appear to drive them away.</p> - -<p>Nothing happens.... Silently, silently, like -speechless despair, the rain beats at my window.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 11th.</i></p> - -<p>I might have known that it would end like this!</p> - -<p>Károlyi and his government decided yesterday -afternoon that they would accept the Belgrade conditions -without alterations.... The French -Premier did not even deign to answer their protesting -telegrams. He looked over their heads and -would not speak to them. Instead he sent direct -instructions to Franchet d’Esperay: “I request -you to treat with Count Károlyi military questions -only, to the exclusion of all other matters. This is -final. Clemenceau.”</p> - -<p>In the old palace of the Prime Minister, up there -in the castle of Buda, the cabinet met in council.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -At first Károlyi was greatly excited, then, tired of -listening to the others, he stretched his long legs, -plunged his hands into his pockets, and with his -head bowed on his chest stared into a corner where -nothing was going on. The ministers of his party -were nervous. The socialist and radical ministers -were cool. Linder is a minister no more. He was -perpetually drunk. Brandy bottles stood on his -ministerial writing-table and in his ante-room sailors -were constantly drinking. The government has -relieved him and put Lieutenant Colonel Bartha into -his place. But “to make sure of Linder’s valuable -services for the future” he was invited to go to -Belgrade and sign the conditions of the armistice in -the name of the Hungarian authorities....</p> - -<p>It all looks as if it were a systematical, devilish -conspiracy. Apparently they want to degrade us as -much as possible so as to make it easier for them to -tread on us. After the delegation in shooting -jackets, a dipsomaniac lieutenant goes to Belgrade, -and with his watery eyes and alcoholic breath represents -Hungary before the haughty French General.</p> - -<p>And while Linder was preparing for his journey, -Károlyi made a speech at the National Council, -meant to encourage and reassure those who wanted -to rob Hungarian territory.</p> - -<p>The Serbian troops have crossed the frontier and -are advancing rapidly into the country. On their -national holiday the Czechs have decided to occupy -all counties to the possession of which they aspire. -The Czech troops have started and are fast overrunning -the country.... Their plan is to occupy -Pressburg and Upper Hungary. This means seventeen -to nineteen counties. The situation on the -Roumanian side is serious too. Roumania has decided -to order a general mobilisation.... “In the -full knowledge of our physical inability and of the -right of our cause,” Károlyi finally declared, “we -can only rely on justice. Consequently I propose -that we sign the treaty of armistice with General -Franchet d’Esperay, <i>and when we have signed it, -every invasion becomes simply an act of violence. -Whoever invades us, we shall protest, raise our -warning voice, and appeal to the judgment of the -civilised world; but we shall offer no armed opposition</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -because we want, and are going to stand by, -the conditions of the armistice.”</p> - -<p>The so-called Prime Minister of Hungary, from the -very heart of Hungary, promises to our little neighbours, -when they start on their plundering expeditions, -that if they come they shall not be interfered -with, that they will meet no armed opposition. And -so Michael Károlyi, in the hearing of the National -Council and of the united Cabinet, calls in the -Serbians, Roumanians and Czechs.</p> - -<p>With trembling lips I read the words of this -shameful speech. What does Michael Károlyi get -for this infamous job?... It is but two hundred -years since his ancestor Alexander Károlyi received -from the Emperor of Austria the domains of Erdöd, -Huszt, Tarcalt and Marosvásárhely, at the valuation -of fifty thousand pieces of gold, and the crown of -a count (on to which the herald painter at Vienna -painted by mistake two more pearls than the other -Hungarian counts wear) for his betrayal of Rákoczi, -the Hungarian champion. The crown of the Counts -Károlyi has eleven pearls. Was it for those two -pearls that the democratic Károlyi was haughtier -than any man of his rank? He wore them and wears -them to this day, when he is making a republic. He -wears the rank bestowed on him by the Hapsburgs, -while he deprives the Hapsburgs of theirs. He -insists on being called the Right Honourable Count, -and that his wife be called the Right Honourable -Countess, while those who are the source of his title -are called in his press Charles Hapsburg and Joseph -Hapsburg! He uses the King’s special train, his -motor-car, and at the opera sits with his wife in the -royal box. He intends to occupy the royal castle -too. One day after dinner, in the intimacy of his -family, smoking his cigar, he said casually: “I’ll -make the King resign.” But his two advisers, Kéri -and Jászi, advised him that this should not be done -by him or by the government. The Hungarian -educated classes were attached to the crown and -the peasantry was loyal to the King.</p> - -<p>I met an old acquaintance this afternoon. It was -he who reported to me this opinion of Károlyi’s -Councillors. It was told to him by quite reliable -people. Paul Kéri said: “One never knows. Let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -the odium of it be attached to someone else. We had -the German Alliance broken by some outsider; let -us get the resignation of the King effected by other -people. The most suitable people would be the -magnates. If it suits the people, it is a good card -in our hand that even the counts don’t want the -King. If they don’t like it, let the nobility pay -for it....”</p> - -<p>“They won’t find anybody to do it,” I said, as -we walked side by side through the crowded street.</p> - -<p>“You may be right,” my companion replied, -shrugging his lean shoulders. “I hear that Károlyi’s -negotiations have all failed. And yet, the matter -becomes urgent for him. They want to hurry here -too. They envy the priority of Berlin and Vienna. -Do you know that when the news of the German -events reached the Austrian National Council, it at -once decided for the republic, and the Emperor -Charles yesterday signed his resignation in Schönbrunn?”</p> - -<p>“No.... I did not know....”</p> - -<p>“Under the influence of this event Károlyi’s -government admitted that it did not intend to wait -for the constitutional assembly to decide on the form -the Constitution should take. ‘Companion’ Bokányi -abolished Kingship on the day of the revolution.... -He does not want it, nor does Kunfi, nor Pogány. -Baron Hatvany, Jászi and Paul Kéri are all against -it; in short, Kingship has to go.... They made -Károlyi sign a declaration for form’s sake, but that -does not count. But if it interests you, let us go to -the editorial office of the <i>Pesti Naplo</i> where we can -read all about it.”</p> - -<p>In the lighted window, among the latest news, -there it was, the text of the proclamation: “The -Hungarian National Council has addressed a solemn -request to the National Councils formed in the -various towns and communes, that they should -decide at once whether they agree with the decision -of the Hungarian National Council that the future -form of the Hungarian state be that of a Republic. -A rapid decision and immediate answer are -requested.”</p> - -<p>I felt the same inexpressible disgust that I always -feel when I read the writings of the new power. “An<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -immediate answer is requested ...” as if an agent -were asking for orders ... “a rapid decision” ... -as if it were an auction of somebody’s old clothes: -the crown of St. Stephen and the traditions of a -thousand Hungarian years.</p> - -<p>“Don’t let it annoy you,” my companion said -bitterly; “it is only a comedy. It makes no -difference what they write, and it’s just the same -whatever the country answers. The secretariat of -the Social Democratic party and the other ‘companions’ -have already settled the question. On -November the 16th they are going to proclaim the -republic, and Károlyi is to be President. And we -shall say nothing and do nothing.”</p> - -<p>“And how long are we going to do nothing?”</p> - -<p>“What can one do? I was at the front for forty-four -months. I was wounded three times. I’m ill -and I’m tired. And in other places it’s even worse -than here. In Berlin they are shooting in the streets. -Officers, loyal to the Kaiser, and the Red Guards cut -each other’s throats in Unter den Linden. Machine-guns -fire from the roofs of the houses. Red sailors -have occupied the imperial palace, and corpses lie -between the barricades. Here, they rarely knock a -man down, and they only take his watch once.” He -laughed painfully. “You know I was buried by a -shell in my trench. They had to dig for some time -before they found me, and the earth was heavy. -Since then....” Horror showed in his eyes and he -shivered. “It’s no good struggling. We can’t get out. -It was all in vain.”</p> - -<p>He turned his head away, and we went on side by -side for some time without a word; then he saluted -clumsily and turned down a dark little street. But -although he had gone his voice remained with me, -and as I went on I could hear it over and over again; it -came towards me, followed me, kept pace with me: -“It’s no good struggling ... we can’t get out ... -it was all in vain....” Those who suffer, those who -are cold and hungry, those who are beggars and -cripples, those who had their orders torn from their -chests and the stars from the collars of their -uniforms, all think alike. Those who did the tearing -had not seen the war, had stayed at home, had lived -in plenty and got rich; their numbers increased<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -while ours grew less; they won the war that we lost.</p> - -<p>“We are done for, it’s no good struggling.” Is -that what I see written in people’s eyes? Exhaustion -and the endless “I’m ill and tired?”... -Now I understand. The best have fallen, and those -who have come back are wounded, though there be -no wound on their bodies. Neither generals nor -statesmen can remedy this.</p> - -<p>I went home. The staircase was in darkness, the -electric light had gone wrong a few days ago and no -workman could be found to repair it; all had joined -the unemployed’s bargaining federation. The front -door bell was out of order too. The electrician who -always kept it in order had been deserted by his men -and had to attend to his shop himself.</p> - -<p>One has to knock at one’s own door nowadays, for -it cannot be left unbolted. Loafing soldiers pay -visits to houses. One hears of nothing but burglaries.</p> - -<p>As I went upstairs impressions of the streets of the -decaying town passed through my mind: the furious -struggling crowd of crammed electric trams; the -‘new rich’ in fur coats; dirty flags, the remains of -last month’s posters on grimy walls; coffee-houses -with music within, crude noises and lewd conversations; -people loafing in front of coal merchants’ -cellars. The horror of the foul streets was still with -me when I reached my room.</p> - -<p>My mother called to me. She was sitting in her -room with a shaded lamp on the table, and on the -green velvet table-cloth the kings and queens of a -pack of little patience cards promenaded as if in a -field.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?” my mother asked.</p> - -<p>“I went to see about the coal.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>I did not want to tell her my visit had been in -vain. “I shall have to go again. I couldn’t settle -matters to-day.” I thought of our empty cellar -and of the coal-office, the long queue of waiting -people. Scenes passed before me like the pictures of -a kinematograph.... The window of the <i>Pesti Naplo</i>. -People were waiting there too.... Big letters, -latest news... Czechs, Roumanians, Serbs, and -the names of ancient Hungarian towns.... People -said nothing and craned their necks to see....<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -Everywhere the same tired faces.... And as -if one voice were speaking for them all: “It is no -good struggling ... we can’t get out ... it was -all in vain”.... Yes, it is past the remedy of -generals and statesmen....</p> - -<p>All the time my mother was looking at me -thoughtfully over her patience cards. She said -nothing, asked no questions, but leant forward and -stroked my head. It was unlike her: her tenderness -was hardly ever visible or heard. It was always -there, but quietly, underneath. She rarely showed -her feelings, and lived behind a veil of self-control. -In my childhood it was only when I was ill or down-hearted -that she showed her true self, for my sake, -not for hers. But lately, now that events had caused -old age to quicken his steps, the veil had been more -often drawn aside. I wanted so much to say something, -to thank her for what was beyond thanks. -She stroked my hair.... How soothing it was! -Her hand knew a sweet, tender secret which it revealed -only on the brows of her children when they -bent under the weight of sorrow. Dear loving -hands! They can accomplish what neither generals -nor statesmen can.</p> - -<p>Something I cannot express in words rose within -me in that moment. Was it a foreboding, was it the -clue that we were all seeking, was it a presentiment -of something I was to do? I cannot answer, but it -was something that should throw itself before the -torrent of destruction, should raise a dam before the -motherland and its women, the faithful, the prolific, -the holders of Hungary’s future.... To protect -those who see things with eyes different from those -of generals and statesmen.</p> - -<p>A carriage stopped in front of the house. Who -could it be? For days I had seen practically -nobody. Social intercourse had almost ceased; one -did not even know what was happening to one’s best -friends or where they were. Everyone took refuge in -his own home, and the threads that had been broken -in October had not yet been retied. A knock at the -door, the hinges creaked. Steps in the corridor. It -was my friend Countess Raphael Zichy.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember the last time we met? Up in -the woods in a fog? And while we were trying to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -guess what the future had in store for us the rebellion -had already started in the town.”</p> - -<p>“Then it must have been about the 30th of -October.”</p> - -<p>“Since then everything has collapsed. Is there -any force on earth that could repair the havoc?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing ever can be repaired,” said my visitor, -pensively. “The evil always remains; but one can -raise something good by its side that will progress -and leave the evil behind it.”</p> - -<p>“But is there anybody who can do this? We’re -not organised, and everybody is so despondent and -tired. As long as this is so, nothing will ever happen. -It is this that has got to be cured first. I was -thinking about it just before you came: in defeat -women are always greater than men. If they could -only be roused and set going they might restore the -faith that everybody seems to have lost.”</p> - -<p>“I’m already negotiating with the various Catholic -women’s institutions,” the Countess said, “and I -hope to bring about their unity.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want the unity of creeds,” said I; “I -want the unity of Hungarians. The forces of Destruction -have united in one camp. All its apostles -work together. Why shouldn’t the forces of Regeneration -unite as well?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to begin where I’m rooted,” answered -my guest with an enigmatic smile, while taking -leave. “You’re like all Hungarians. You want to -do everything at once and carry everything before -you....”</p> - -<p>She was right. She had started to work in the -right way.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 12th.</i></p> - -<p>What has happened?</p> - -<p>In front of one of the big schools sailors were lined -up in a row. A company, armed to the teeth, stood -in the middle of the road. People looked at each -other curiously, anxiously. This school had an evil -past. In October the deserters had gathered together -here, the armed servants of the Károlyi revolution. -It is said that Tisza’s murderers started -from this point.</p> - -<p>“What are they up to now?”</p> - -<p>“They’re Ladislaus Fényes’s sailors. They’re -going to Pressburg against the Czechs,” a lean, fair -man said.</p> - -<p>Somebody sighed “Poor people of Pressburg!” -The fair man made a frightened sign to him to keep -quiet. Behind his back an officer began to talk excitedly. -I could only hear half of what he said, but -it was something to the effect that in one of the -barracks three thousand soldiers and five hundred -officers who were going to the defence of Upper -Hungary had been disarmed by the orders of -Pogány.</p> - -<p>A broad, dark Jew, rigged out in field uniform, -now came out of the school building, a ribbon of -national colours on his chest. His voice did -not reach me. I only saw his mouth move. He -addressed the sailors, and cheers rang through the -street. The crowd rushed forward and I turned -back to escape it, tried to reach home by a circuitous -route. Suddenly I heard more cheering, and -behind me the roadway resounded with heavy steps. -The detachment of sailors was marching to the railway<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -station, the mob accompanying it. The detachment -was headed by the dark Jew, with drawn -sword, and behind him marched a criminal looking -rabble dressed in sailors’ uniforms. Most of them -wore red ribbons in their caps, and the deeply cut -blouses displayed their bare, hairy chests. The last -sailor was a squashed nosed, sturdy man, his dirty -pimpled face shone. Round his bare neck he wore -a red handkerchief. As he walked along he caught -his foot in something and looked back. Between -his strong, bushy eyebrows and protruding cheekbones -his eyes were set deep. I shuddered. This -riff-raff going to the defence of Pressburg! Are -such as they to recover Upper Hungary?</p> - -<p>Then I remembered. The man at the head of the -sailors must have been Victor Heltai-Hoffer, who on -the 31st of October, from the Hotel Astoria, was -nominated Commander of Budapest’s garrison. I -was told that he had been a contractor, but people -from Károlyi’s entourage affirmed that he had been -a waiter in a music-hall of ill-fame. Later he became -a professional dancer, and during the war -he lived by illicit trade, dabbling in hay, fat and -sugar. Those who were his accomplices are not -likely to be mistaken.... On the day of the revolution -Heltai offered to storm the Garrison’s command -with a band of deserters. This disgraceful -success was followed by his nomination to the post of -commander by Fényes, Kéri, and the other National -councillors. A few days ago queer news was circulated -about him, and he was suspended from his -position. Heltai is said to be in possession of certain -disgraceful secrets concerning those in power, and it -was possible that he was put in command of the -Pressburg relief force in order to get rid of him.</p> - -<p>The noise of the sailors’ steps was lost in the hubbub -of the street. Carriages passed with their -miserable lean horses, people went to and fro with -spiritless monotony. Although the sailors had long -disappeared I still seemed to see the last, with his -squashed nose, his red tie. That criminal face -wore the expression of the whole contingent.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus17" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus17.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">HELTAI’S SAILORS.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_120"><i>To face p. 120.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>And that horrible face under a cap worn on one -side of the head is everywhere in a country that -putrifies. It appears in the light of the burning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -houses, it enters at night into lonely manors, into -cottages, it rushes in under the portals of palaces, -goes through the rooms, searches, spies, and there -is no escape from it. Whoever it pursues, it will -catch.... Then it wipes its bloody hands on silk -or linen, and when its heavy step has passed, death -grins in the dark, pillaged room behind it.</p> - -<p>Once upon a time the word “sailor” brought to -our minds the image of the great, free expanse of -oceans and shores. Now we hold our breath at its -sound, and shudder in horror.</p> - -<p>That face with the sailor’s cap worn rakishly on -one side, that face with the deep, loot-seeking -eyes.... There it was in Moscow when thousands -of Imperial officers were slaughtered between the -walls of the Kremlin. It was in Petrograd in the -hour of starkest horror, in Odessa, in Altona; and in -Helsingfors it bathed itself in the blood of Finns. -It is now in Berlin, in the Imperial castle on which -the red flag floats. And it was lurking in the courtyard -of Schönbrunn Castle when the Emperor Charles -was driven from his home.</p> - -<p>I can see the large staircase of Schönbrunn by -which the Emperor, the Empress and their little fair -children left their home, walking down alone, expelled. -In olden days a hundred footmen jumped at -a sign of their hand; courtiers bowed to the ground -before them. Now, wherever they looked, there was -not one faithful eye for them; whoever they might -call, he would not come.</p> - -<p>When Francis Joseph was dying on his little iron -camp-bed, in a room at Schönbrunn, the heir to the -crown and the Archduchess Zita wrung their hands -in their despair. “Good God, not yet, not -yet”.... Then the door of the old ruler’s room -was opened: it had become a mortuary, and they -two walked slowly down the great gallery. The Court -bowed low before them. And they walked weeping, -holding each other’s hands. Since then they have -been always walking, through many mistakes, disappointments, -and tears, and now they have reached -the bottom of the staircase.</p> - -<p>The little Crown Prince, as he had been taught, -saluted all the time with his baby hands. “They -won’t acknowledge it to-day, mother,” he said sadly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -The red-cockaded peoples’ guards who occupied the -place turned aside.</p> - -<p>The King, in civilian clothes, with bowed head, -stepped out into the open. The sound of his steps -died away in the big, empty house, and the darkness -of the evening swallowed up the garden, under whose -straight-cut hedges, peopled with statues of gods and -goddesses, the Hapsburgs had passed so many -lovely summers.</p> - -<p>When the royal motor-cars passed through the -court of honour the usual bugle-call did not resound; -the guard did not turn out, and red flags rose above -the roofs of the houses of Schönbrunn. Over the -gate the double-headed eagle was covered with red -rags; though it had been predatory and had cruelly -clawed peoples and countries, it had never returned -from its flight without bringing treasures for Vienna. -And it may be the greatest tragedy of the Hapsburgs -that their unduly favoured capital turned indifferently -away from them when the scum of the red -power had driven them from home.</p> - -<p>The rapidly speeding car took the unfortunate -prince to Eckhardsau, and henceforth he lived under -the protection of the National Council of the -Renners and Bauers. Who knows for how long? -Who knows what is in store for him?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 13th.</i></p> - -<p>Every day has its news, and the news has eagle’s -claws that tear the living flesh.</p> - -<p>Behind the retreating Mackensen, Roumanians -pour through the Transylvanian passes. The -Serbians have occupied the Banat and the Bácska. -Temesvár and Zombor are in their hands. The -Czechs are advancing towards Kassa and, after -having robbed our land, they even want to rob the -country of its coat of arms. They have stolen our -three hills surmounted by a double cross and have -assigned it as arms to Upper Hungary, which they -have named Slovensko.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp48" id="illus18" style="max-width: 28.125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus18.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">THE CROWN PRINCE OTTO<br /> - <span class="smaller">(<i>de jure</i> KING OF HUNGARY).</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_122"><i>To face p. 122.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>To-day Linder is going to sign in Belgrade the -death-bearing armistice conditions. In Arad, Jászi -is distributing our possessions to the Roumanians. -Károlyi is intriguing to undermine the power of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -Mackensen, who, at the head of forty to fifty -thousand men, is the only armed hope remaining in -the midst of destruction. A deputation of magnates, -all, without exception, patriotic, faithful lords, has, -inconceivably, arrived at Eckhardsau, to ask the -King for his resignation. It is more than one can -bear.</p> - -<p>The country is going through the horrors of decomposition -while still alive; its counterfeit head is -rotting and its members falling off. And there is no -silence in our distracting grief; the great decay -is accompanied by revolting continuous applause. -Those who cause the ruin applaud themselves. In the -press, in their speeches, on their posters, in their -writings: their applause drowns the groans of agony. -The day begins with this abject applause, for it -appears in the morning papers, and in the evening -it follows us home and haunts our dreams; it tears -our self-respect to shreds, for it is a perpetual -reminder of our own impotence. The press with its -foreign soul, which has enmeshed public opinion -completely, now prostitutes the soul and language of -Hungary; it has betrayed and sold us; it applauds -our degradation, jeers and throws dirt at the nation -which has given its partisans a home.</p> - -<p>The chief writer of Budapest’s Jewish literature, -Alexander Bródy, has written an article in an -evening paper about the German Emperor, of whom -he used to speak, not so long ago, when he was still -in power, as if he were a demi-god. Now he starts as -follows: “One of the world’s greatest criminals, -Wilhelm Hohenzollern, has escaped from his -country, and in Holland has begged his way into -the castle of Count Bentinck. There he slept last -night with about ten others, a trifling part of his -accursed race, with his always smart red-faced -(because always drunk) son, the wife of the latter, -Cecilia, and with the Mother-Empress, that shapeless -female of the human species.” And he ends up: -“Moaning, sick, uncomfortable, the escaped Kaiser -lies on his bed. And for the present the ‘poor old -man’ only trembles for his life; they may spit into -his face, they may put him on his bended knees—nothing -matters so long as his life is granted.”</p> - -<p>He who now writes like this is the master of those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -radical journalists who form the major part of the -present government. That is the spirit which rules -over the forum to-day. That is the tone which is -assumed by those who claim to speak for the nation, -which for nearly a thousand years has enjoyed the -reputation of being the most chivalrous nation of -Europe.</p> - -<p>This article, however, roused Hungarian society -even from its present torpor. Only the meanest kick -the unfortunate. The paper received several -thousand letters of protest, and many subscribers -returned their copies. But what is the good of that? -The paper takes no notice of protests, and the shame -of the cowardly notice, like many other disgraceful -actions committed in our name, will recoil upon us, -and we shall have to bear its disgrace.</p> - -<p>How long must we suffer this? Good, gracious -God, how long will it last?</p> - -<p>There is no place we can look to for consolation. -From the frontiers, narrowing round us every day, -fugitive Hungarians are pouring in. On all the -roads of the land despoiled and homeless people are -in flight. Carts and coaches, pedestrians and herds -of cattle mix on the highway, and the trains roll -along, dragging cattle trucks filled with homeless -humanity. Villages, whole towns in flight....</p> - -<p>Maddened, with weeping eyes, half Hungary is -escaping towards the capital which has betrayed it. -And the heart-breaking wave of humanity is no longer -an unknown crowd: familiar names are mentioned, -and one perceives familiar faces. They are coming -by day and by night, those who have no hearth, no -clothes, not a scrap of food; and instead of their -clean homes they have to beg for quarters in low -inns, for fantastic prices, even if it is but for a single -night....</p> - -<p>Rain poured down in the street. A cold wind -blew at the corners as I walked with a little parcel -under my arm towards a small hotel on the -boulevards. I got the news this morning: some -dear, good people have arrived there, robbed of -everything they possessed. The hotel was ill-ventilated -and dirty. The lift did not work, and I -climbed painfully up the dark stairs. Muddy footsteps -had left their mark on the dirty, crumpled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -carpet. And the whole place was pervaded with a -stench made up of kitchen smells and the pungent -odour of some insecticide.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus19" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus19.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">“ON ALL THE ROADS ... HOMELESS PEOPLE ARE IN FLIGHT.”</p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_124"><i>To face p. 124.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>In the dusk of the third floor’s corridor I could -not distinguish the numbers of the rooms. I opened -a door at haphazard. The air of the room met me -like a filthy, corrupt breath. A Polish Jew in his -gabardine was standing near the window and, -swaying from the hip, was explaining something -with an air of importance to a clean-shaven co-religionary, -dressed in the English style. A few men -stood in the middle of the room, and foreign banknotes -tied in bundles lay on the table. They seemed -to be Russian roubles. One man threw a newspaper -over the table and came towards me. “What do you -want?” he asked, rather embarrassed, though he -spoke threateningly.</p> - -<p>“I made a mistake,” I said, and banged the door.</p> - -<p>Behind the next door I found the friends for whom -I was looking. The wintry darkness was lit up by -an electric light near the bed, on which a pale little -boy was lying. The other child was huddled up in -a chair, swinging his legs wearily. Their father stood -with his back to me, between the two wings of the -curtain, and was gazing through the window into -the November rain. The mother was sitting motionless -near the little invalid; her two hands lay open -in her lap, as if she had dropped everything. When -she recognised me she did not say a word, but just -nodded, and tears came to her eyes. Her husband -turned back from the window. His face was a -picture of rebelling despair. He clenched his fists, -and, while he spoke, walked restlessly up and down -the room.</p> - -<p>“The Roumanians have taken everything we -possessed; nothing is left, though we have worked -hard all our lives. They robbed us in our very -presence. We had to look on and could do nothing to -prevent it. Then they drove us out of the house -with this sick child.”</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with it?”</p> - -<p>“Typhus, and yet they showed no mercy.”</p> - -<p>The sick boy tossed his head from one side to the -other and groaned in his sleep. His groans are not -the only ones that the shabby gray walls had heard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> -this year. Rooms that are never unoccupied, rooms -like great stuffy cupboards that are crammed with -humanity. Their complements arrive and are -crammed into them, awaiting with trembling heart -the hour when some new arrivals, able to pay more, -will crowd them out again. Up and out on to the -road again, to drag with them the horrible vision of -their lost land, their destroyed home, through the -great town which has squandered without mercy -that which was theirs and now has no pity for them.</p> - -<p>But there is also another drawer in the cupboard: -that other room, the man in his gabardine, the clean -shaven one, the foreign money on the table.... No, -these don’t suffer. These have come to take possession -of what is left of Hungary.</p> - -<p>Through the influence of Trotski, Jews from -Hungary who were prisoners of war, became in -Russia the dreaded tyrants of lesser towns, the heads -of directorates. The Soviet now sends these people -back as its agents. Will the government prevent -them from coming? Will it arrest them? Probably -not. Many believe that during his stay in Switzerland -Károlyi came to an agreement with the -Bolsheviki and now abets the world-revolutionary -aims of the Russian terror. Sinister tales circulate -under the walls of the houses of Pest. What madness! -An agricultural country like Hungary is no soil for -that seed. And yet.... A few days ago an -alarming rumour spread. In vain did the government -attempt to suppress it. The news leaked out -that as soon as it had come to power the government -received a wireless message from the Russian -Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, who sent their -fraternal greetings and promised that the Russian -Soviet would send help and food if only the Hungarian -proletariat would join it in its war against -the Capitalism of the Allies. For, said the wireless: -“The freeing of the toiling masses is possible only -through a proletarian world-revolution. Unite, -Hungarian proletarians! Long live the world-revolution! -Long live the dictatorship of the proletariat! -Long live the world’s Soviet-republic!”</p> - -<p>This message, kindled by the fire of class hatred, -spread its sparks over the Russian swamps, over the -Carpathians, and fell glowing into Károlyi’s nefarious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -camp. Nobody trod on it to extinguish it, it was -kept alive, in secret, among them. No wonder they -are uneasy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 14th.</i></p> - -<p>The days are getting shorter and shorter, and -darkness comes earlier every day.</p> - -<p>The lamp was lit on my table. Count Emil -Dessewffy was telling me about his journey to Eckhardsau. -Now and then he fixed his strong single-eyeglass -into his orbit, then again he toyed with it -between his long, thin fingers, as if it were a shining -coin. He was obviously nervous; and he kept crossing -and uncrossing his legs.</p> - -<p>“Prince Nicolas Eszterhazy, Baron Wlassics, -Count Emil Széchényi and I went there. The -Cardinal Primate declined at the last moment.”</p> - -<p>“How could you bring yourselves to such a step?”</p> - -<p>“Our intention was to check Károlyi’s machinations, -to obtain the resignation of the King, and to -persuade his Majesty to stand aside temporarily. At -first the King wouldn’t listen to reason. He said he -had taken the oath to the Hungarian people; if -others wanted to break their oath towards him, let -them arrange that with their conscience; he was not -going to perjure himself. We explained to him that -as he had already transferred, alas, his supreme -command to Károlyi, he would safeguard the interests -of poor Hungary and of the dynasty better by standing -aside during the period of transition, than by -hanging on obstinately to his formal right. By this -he might frustrate the attempt of those who are -fishing in troubled waters to force the nation to face -the <i>fait accompli</i> of a deposition by violence. The -King stamped his foot and declared several times -that whatever might happen he would not stand -aside. We explained the advantages of the step from -various points of view, and at last made him understand -that after the mistakes that had already been -made, no other solution was possible. Wlassics -edited the document, but we couldn’t make a final -draft because no foolscap paper could be found in -the whole castle. We sent out for some paper. -Then there was no ink, and we had to search for a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -pen. Time passed, and meanwhile the King went -out shooting....”</p> - -<p>“Went out shooting!” The whole tragedy seemed -to be becoming a burlesque.</p> - -<p>“Yes, we were rather shocked,” said Dessewffy. -“But later on we found that there was not a scrap -of food in the castle, and the King had to obtain -game so that the Queen and the children might not -starve. It is all very sad. Their clothes too were -left behind in Vienna. When they left Schönbrunn -they just threw a few things hurriedly into the car. -The children have no change of clothes. They even -had to sleep for several nights without bedclothes. -It’s no good sending messages to Vienna: the -Government Council, which has taken them under -its protection, does not even answer.”</p> - -<p>I thought of the Austrian and Czech nobles, so -favoured by the Hapsburgs, of those, who, insisting -on their rights based on the Spanish etiquette of -older times, were mortally offended if at some festivity -at the Vienna Burg they could not stand in the -immediate vicinity of the Emperor, or were put by -mistake into a position somewhat inferior to their -rank. Where were they? Where was the ruler’s -General Staff? The generals covered with orders? -Where was the bodyguard with its commander, -which “dies but never surrenders?” In the last -days of Schönbrunn they all had withdrawn like the -tide from the forsaken shore. “<i>Nous étions tout -seuls</i>,” the Queen had said.</p> - -<p>“And then?” I asked Count Dessewffy.</p> - -<p>“After a time some paper was brought, two sheets -in all, and Széchényi sat down to make a clean copy -of the document: he had the best handwriting of us -all.”</p> - -<p>Dessewffy showed me the original document. It -read:</p> - -<p>“Since the day of my succession to the throne I -have always tried to free my people from the horrors -of this war—a war in the causation of which I had no -share whatever. I do not wish that my person -should be an obstacle to the prosperity of the -Hungarian people. Consequently I resign all participation -in the direction of affairs of State and submit -in advance to the decision by which Hungary will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -fix its future form of government. Dated at -Eckhardsau, November 13th 1918.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Charles.</span>”</p> - -<p>“The King still hesitated when the document lay -ready for signature on the table. And as he -wavered with the pen in his hand he looked the very -picture of despair. During the last few days the hair -on the sides of his head has turned gray. Suddenly -tears came into his eyes, and he fell sobbing on -Count Hunyadi’s shoulder. Well, none of our eyes -were quite dry....”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus20" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus20.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">QUEEN ZITA.</p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Kosel, Vienna.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_128"><i>To face p. 128.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>While Dessewffy talked on, I thought of a tale I -had heard long, long ago.</p> - -<p>It was evening in a village far away. The -autumnal wind was rising, and the poplars round the -house were soughing like organ pipes in a dark -church. In the kitchen the maids were shelling peas. -The light of the fire played over their hands, and the -dry shells fell with a gentle rattle on the brick floor. -Katrin, the housekeeper, was telling a story.... -“And the wicked knights went into the King’s tent, -armed with halberds and maces, and said in a terrible -voice: ‘Give up your crown or you shall die the -death.’ The beautiful Queen folded her hands imploringly, -and the King took his crown off his -head....” That was the story. The maids cried -over the poor king, and in their hearts approved of -him.</p> - -<p>In stories it is the unfortunate who are always -right, in reality it is those on whom fortune smiles.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 15th.</i></p> - -<p>“Long live Michael Károlyi! Elect him President -of the Republic!...” Again a paper disease has -infected the houses’ skin.</p> - -<p>In the first year of the war Michael Károlyi had -betted that he would be the president of the -Hungarian Republic.... Will he win his bet to-morrow? -But whoever may win, Hungary will be -the loser.</p> - -<p>Posters ... new posters appear above the old -ones. A new shame covers the old, and that is all -that changes in our lives. Big flags float in the wind -on the boulevards. Flags are hoisted on the electric<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -lamp-posts, and above the house entrances the old -ones flap about. The government has ordered the -beflagging of every house in the country, and its -newspapers are preparing the mood of the morrow. -They announce in big type:</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="allsmcap">THE RED FLAG HAS BEEN HOISTED IN THE FRENCH TRENCHES.</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="allsmcap">REVOLUTION HAS BROKEN OUT IN BELGIUM.</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="allsmcap">SWITZERLAND IS ON THE EVE OF A REVOLUTION.</span></p> - -<p>I heard a little school-girl say to her friend: -“Károlyi is a great man. He makes the fashion, -now even the French are imitating us....”</p> - -<p>“Long live ...” shouted the walls and the shop -windows, but the people were silent. Why? Why -don’t they tear down the disgraceful posters? Why -are they resigned, why do I alone protest? Or are -there more of us, only we don’t know of each other? -I looked carefully at the passing faces. Their eyes -passed indifferently over the posters. Nothing -mattered to them. I walked quickly, as if haunted, -a stranger among the soulless crowd.</p> - -<p>I reached Károlyi’s palace. The one-storeyed -house, built in the Empire style, looked low under -its old roof among the high, newly erected buildings. -The row of windows was dark: Károlyi had already -moved into the Prime Minister’s house. The first -floor was inhabited only by the tenant of half the -building, Count Armin Mikes, and I had come to see -his wife. Since the events of October I had not -been there.</p> - -<p>The little side gate opened as I rang, noiselessly, -as if automatically, and the <i>concièrge</i> looked out of his -<i>loge</i> and disappeared. Nothing stirred. Under the -deep arch of the entrance my steps alone resounded; -they echoed strangely, as if invisible hands were -dropping things behind me.</p> - -<p>I stopped for an instant. The soul of the place -seemed to be whispering in the dark. On the right -side a corridor was visible through a glass-panelled -door, its walls covered with revolutionary pictures, -and at its end a side staircase led into Károlyi’s -apartments. I shuddered, as one does when -one enters a house where a murder has been -committed. The traitors—perjured officers, Gallilest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -students, deserters—congregated up there, in -the dark rooms, in the nights of October. Those -who sold us and, among themselves, sentenced Tisza -to death whispered and advised up there.</p> - -<p>I went on. From the semi-obscurity of the huge -staircase, marble seemed to tumble down like a -frozen waterfall. Beyond, in the garden, the trees -whispered in the cold wind.</p> - -<p>Countess Mikes’ small drawing-room was light and -warm. I found a gathering of Transylvanians there, -and beyond the room the notorious house, the whole -town, seemed to have disappeared. My own sufferings -were forgotten in the recital of theirs, and I was -no longer alone in my grief, for all who were present -shared it with me. They helped to raise up hope, -because they knew what patriotism was, it is an -old legacy of theirs. The strength and the will -power which supported Hungary throughout her -most disastrous periods, when the Turks from the -south and the Germans from the west trod on -Hungary’s soil, had their source in Transylvania. -When the fire of resistance was extinguished everywhere -else, it went on burning among its inhabitants. -And so after every dark night our race has gone to -Transylvania to kindle anew the flame which has -lighted it back into the dying country.</p> - -<p>Great, suffering Transylvania, what is thy reward -for this?</p> - -<p>There they sat, Transylvanian men and women, -the descendants of ancient princes, sufferers with -shaded eyes. And as I looked at them there appeared -behind their handsome faces the dreamlike -outlines of a bluish-green landscape. As if seen in -the crystal of an antique emerald ring, distant, -dreamy trees appeared: two pointed poplars reached -towards the sky: down below, among the meadows, -a willow-bordered brook flowed softly: wagons -rumbled on the winding road: a horseman came -slowly, with a sack across the saddle in front of him. -Beyond, the meadow rose to a velvety hillock, where -an ancient spire, a little village, a tiny Székler village, -nestled....</p> - -<p>A wanderer told me the tale this summer, when I -was in Transylvania. It happened during the war, -in 1916. It was when the alarm was raised for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -first time, and one day the cry passed through undefended -Transylvania, “The Roumanians are -coming!” In mad haste it spread through the -counties, rushed along the electric wires, rang in the -bells: “Save yourselves!” One village carried the -next with it, Transylvania was fleeing.</p> - -<p>In the village of Gelencze, on the bank of the -rippling brook, at the foot of the hillock, there was -silence. It was just like any other day; the people -were working in the fields. Meanwhile the Roumanians -crept cautiously through the undefended -Transylvanian passes. One morning early, soon after -the break of day, like some awful sudden death, they -fell upon the people of Gelencze, there in their fields -in the midst of their peaceful work. The people were -helpless. Only one old Székler raised his spade, and -fell with a shout among the rifles. They knocked -him down, but he did not die; so they nailed him to -a plank and dragged him into the forest that he -might die there, alone. He was heard till nightfall, -struggling and cursing the Roumanians.</p> - -<p>That is how Gelencze was informed of the invasion -of Transylvania. The alarm, the cry of warning, -had passed it by, had missed it on the way. The -telegraph wires carried the news, but they passed -over its head, and not a word, not a sound came to -bring warning. The Government, the County, the -District, forgot—Hungary forgot the little village.</p> - -<p>A wanderer told me all this, there, just outside the -village of Gelencze, when it was still ours. And as -I listened to the sad story it became bigger and -deeper, so deep that the whole of Transylvania had -room in it.... The hillock became the mass of -Transylvania’s mountains, the brook became all -Transylvania’s rivers, and the fate of the village was -Transylvania’s fate.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember how I promised you that -summer, down there, that I would write a book of -Transylvania, that I would trumpet the rights of -your land, your race? I was to proclaim the wrongs -you have suffered and call to account those who -directed Hungary’s fate and for ever forgot the -Hungarian folk in Transylvania. How they delivered -you to the tender mercies of your foes, and -armed neither your soul nor your arm for resistance....<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> -A forgotten village! Do you remember? I -said that that should be the title of my book. You -were nothing but a forgotten village to those who -wielded power in Hungary. The sufferings of Transylvania -never caused them a moment’s inconvenience.... -And the present government surpasses them -all. As if it had decided on your destruction it now -sends out an old accomplice of the Roumanian -<i>Irredenta</i> to speak in the defence of the victim whom -he himself has condemned to death. Oscar Jászi -deals to-day in Arad with Transylvania’s fate.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus21" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus21.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">“A TINY SZEKLER VILLAGE.”</p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_132"><i>To face p. 132.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>Hate and disgust were depicted on the faces of the -Transylvanian women. That man of Galician origin, -the internationalist who wanted to make an eastern -Switzerland of our country, and who hated everything -that was Hungarian to such an extent that his -hatred made him forget the traditional caution of his -race and exclaim in a fury when speaking of us, -“If they don’t obey, let them be exterminated”—he -is sent there to negotiate in the name of the -Hungarian race! The very spirit in which he conducted -the negotiations showed his eagerness to -revenge himself on the nation which had given him -hospitality: he renounced what was not his, gave up -rights which were ours, and sold Transylvania to -Manin’s Roumanian National Council, which he and -Károlyi had themselves created during the October -days. In Arad the Roumanians speak already of -national sovereignty! They claim a Roumanian -supremacy and <i>twenty-six</i> Hungarian counties! -They demand that the Hungarian Popular Government -shall disarm the police, disband the Hungarian -National Guards, punish all energetic officers, -but ... that it shall provide arms for the Roumanian -National Guards and pay for its men and -officers out of the Hungarian taxpayer’s pocket. -Jászi and the revolutionary Government delegates -have promised all this. Meanwhile the Roumanians -are dragging out the negotiations, and their voices -become more and more sharp and exacting, for do -they not know that every hour takes the royal -Roumanian troops deeper into the heart of undefended -Transylvania?</p> - -<p>And while at the county hall of Arad the traitors -are at work, the main column of Mackensen’s always<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -victorious army is rolling over the bridge across the -Maros. Endless rows of motor columns pass. Behind -them comes an unceasing flow of army service corps -wagons, covered ammunition wagons, lorries, carts -and waggonets. Hours and days pass, and they are -still going on, orderly, gray, grave. They do not rob, -they do not pillage, they just go on, from the foot -of the Balkan Mountains, from the frontiers of -Transylvania, through Hungary. On foot, on horseback, -on wagons, in close columns, on they go, -silently, homewards.</p> - -<p>With them goes hope, and Károlyi watches with -an anxious eye: if he turned back, if he lifted his -fist.... And Roumanian heads in sheepskin caps -appear above the crests of the mountains, look after -the Germans, and their feet stamp on Transylvania’s -heart.</p> - -<p>My bitterness overflowed and I burst out, “We -shall take it back!”</p> - -<p>The Transylvanian women pressed my hand.</p> - -<p>“We shall take it back,” said one of them; “I -do not know how, but I feel it will be so.”</p> - -<p>As I came out of the house I saw my brother Béla -come towards me. He said hurriedly, “I met Emma -Ritoók, who also is in despair. She asked me to tell -you that she must speak to you.” That again -reminded me that probably there were many of us, -only we did not know of each other.... My mother, -my brothers and sisters, Countess Zichy, the Transylvanian -women, Emma Ritoók, they are faces I -can see, voices I can hear, but beyond them there -must be many women scattered in the great silent -multitude, left to themselves, who weep over the past -and fear the future....</p> - -<p>When the electric tram stopped I stepped forward -to get off. Somebody knocked me in the back. My -feet missed the steps and I fell, face first, into the -road. I looked back. It was a fat young man, in -brand-new field uniform. His characteristic nose -fell like a soft bag over his lips. He jumped over me -without saying a word, nor did he attempt to help -me. He was in a hurry.... I just caught sight of -his two fleshy ears under his cap as he rushed on.</p> - -<p>That is typical of the streets of Budapest to-day; -in fact that is the only reason why I mention it. Unfortunately -I sprained my ankle.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 16th.</i></p> - -<p>I am ill after my fall yesterday. An icy wind blows -at my window. Loud voices rise from the street.</p> - -<p>Presently my mother looked out and said, “The -saddlers and leather-workers are assembling; they’ve -got red tickets in their hats.”</p> - -<p>Hours passed by. Suddenly I heard a loud -buzzing overhead and an aeroplane flew through the -grey air over the streets. Parliament at this moment -is proclaiming the Republic—Károlyi’s National -Council is announcing that all Hungary shall be -governed by the Republic of Pest. Some handbills -were brought up to me from the street.... “Victorious -Revolution.... Kingship is dead, long live -the independent Hungarian Republic!”</p> - -<p>I buried my head in my pillow, unable to say a -word. There seemed to be a little mill in my chest -and another in my head, and both went round and -round madly, grinding me to powder. Then I became -aware that there was a newspaper on my table—the -smell of fresh bad printer’s ink betrayed its -presence. It contained an account of what had happened; -everything passed off in an orderly way and -nobody had prevented it. Another opportunity -missed, another day of hope gone! The House of -Commons, the Lords, met, resigned themselves without -protest, and the newspaper announces: “This is -a red-letter day in Hungary’s history....”</p> - -<p>Those who had been present told me afterwards -that early in the day the trade unions proceeded from -their meeting place to the House of Parliament.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -They carried red flags, big placards, and a black -coffin marked “Kingship is dead.” The brass bands -of the workmen and of the postal workers blared, -bands of gypsies and choral societies gave voice. -Red insignia everywhere. The nation’s colours had -disappeared even from the caps of the national -guards and they too sported red labels with “Long -live the Hungarian Republic.” The only two Hungarian -flags, and small ones at that, were placed on the -front of the House of Parliament. Over the porch of -the central entrance a huge red flag floated in the -breeze as if Internationalism from its newly -conquered home were putting its tongue out in -derision at the crowd, which it had beguiled so far -by means of cockades of the national colours and -with white chrysanthemums. Opposite, on the -buildings of the High Court and the Ministry of -Agriculture, red drapery was displayed all along the -first storey. It looked just as if a gaping wound, -inflicted with a giant axe, had cut them in twain.</p> - -<p>The shops were closed. Trams were not running. -Traffic had stopped like a breath withheld, ready to -cough itself again into the streets of the town. A -cordon of sailors lined up in front of the House: -rather a painful surprise for the government, this. -Heltai had come back from Pressburg with his men -in a special train: surely the Republic was not -going to be proclaimed without him! So the defence -of Upper Hungary is now suspended for the time -being while Heltai adorns himself with the national -colours: he entered Pressburg under the red flag. -There are rumours that his sailors are connected with -certain robberies. In Pest it is murmured that he -knows something about Tisza’s murder.</p> - -<p>Five aeroplanes circled over the square, the -crowd kept increasing, and then a giant advertisement -on a long stretched canvas was brought out on -poles from a side street. The wind blew it up like a -sail and made fun of its inscription: “This morning -in Parliament Square we shall proclaim Count -Michael Károlyi President of the Republic!”</p> - -<p>It was ten o’clock. The Speaker’s bell rang. And -the Hungarian House of Commons, to its eternal -disgrace, without a word of protest, dissolved itself -in impotence. In the other wing of the building the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -Lords had met at the same time. Only thirty-two -were present. They too had forgotten the old classical -cry: “<i>Moriamur pro rege nostro!</i>” Only Baron -Julius Wlassics, the president, spoke. He did not -pronounce the dissolution of the Lords. He said as -little as possible, and ended his address with the -words: “Our constitution decrees that the dissolution -of the House of Commons as part of our two-chamber -legislature will naturally render the further -constitutional functions of the House of Lords impossible, -consequently I hereby suspend the sitting -of the House of Lords.”</p> - -<p>This was the last act of an institution which was -born over a thousand years ago at Pusztaszer, had -become the dignified Diet of Buda, the heroic National -Assembly of Pressburg, Francis Deák’s parliament. -And under the cupola rose the voice of that which -was begotten by yesterday’s treason, murder and -destruction, and will undoubtedly engender anarchy.</p> - -<p>“Honoured National Assembly....” John Hock, -the notorious priest, the President of the so-called -National Assembly, raised his voice. Nobody can -tell for whom he spoke. National Assemblies are -elected bodies, and those who were there had been -elected by nobody.</p> - -<p>In the newspapers the speech was given in long -columns of thick type. My eyes passed over them, I -saw only the speaker in his black cassock, hiding -behind the black columns, his diabolical face drawn -between his shoulders. A guilty priest, a guilty -Hungarian, who has betrayed both his God and his -country. Once in his youth he was the adulated -preacher of the crowd. Then his downfall began. -The gifted but morally weak man with a corrupt soul -got into debt and became the political tool of his -creditors.... That brought him into Károlyi’s -camp.</p> - -<p>His accomplices, who like to compare their little rebellion -made in the Hotel Astoria romantically to the -great French Revolution, call Károlyi their Mirabeau -and have dubbed John Hock the Abbe Siéyès. Do -they call their ladies, Countess Károlyi, Baroness -Hatvany, Mrs. Jászi, Laura Polányi, Rosa -Schwimmer, conforming to this precedent, <i>sansculottes</i> -and <i>tricoteuses</i>?... There they are, all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -of them, in the big hall under the cupola, pantingly -enjoying the hour of their triumph. And John Hock -goes on with his speech. I see him before me, -as I have seen him so often in the street and occasionally -in the little office of the manager of the Urania -scientific theatre, whither he took the manuscript of -his play <i>Christ</i> and whither he went to talk politics, -speaking in mysterious, dark prophecies. His head -always reminded me of the characteristic old illustrations -of Mephistopheles in <i>Faust</i>. The little black -velvet cap with the peacock’s feather would suit him -to perfection. On his unkempt, domed skull the hair -is short and looks more like bristles than hair. In -his crafty, wicked eyes there is something of the -look of those animals that live underground. His -ill-shaved face is blue and is always unwashed. His -cassock is covered from neck to foot with grease-spots; -now and then he fumbles with his indescribably -dirty hands in the depths of his pockets. He has to -stoop down to reach their bottom. Then he produces -a dented snuff-box, and cocking his little -finger with grotesque grace, stretches his thumb and -index finger into the box. His filthy fingers lift the -snuff to his nostrils, brown with continuous snuffing. -Then he leans his head back and shuts his eyes, in -expectant ecstasy.</p> - -<p>So he stood on the platform in the hall, filled with -applause, after having proclaimed the republic and -having proposed that: “the holidays of royal paraphernalia -should be abolished and that the glorious -days of the revolution and the republic, the 31st of -October and the 16th of November, should for all -times be declared National holidays.” Then he read -out a declaration, imposed on Károlyi by Jászi, -Kúnfi, Kéri and Landler, “in the name of the -Hungarian nation and by the will of the people ...” -by which it was decided that Hungary was a Popular -Republic, independent and separate from any other -country, the supreme power being provisionally in -the hands of the popular government, headed by -Michael Károlyi and supported by the National -Council. It declared that the popular government -must urgently legislate and adopt general, secret, -equal, direct suffrage, including women in the -electorate, for elections for the National Assembly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -Communal and Legal councils; decree the freedom of -the press, trial by jury, freedom of assembly, -and take the necessary steps for the agricultural -population to obtain possession of the land.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus22" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus22.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">FATHER JOHN HOCK,<br /> - <span class="smaller">PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL COUNCIL, OPENING THE - REVOLUTIONARY NATIONAL ASSEMBLY AFTER THE DISSOLUTION OF THE HOUSE OF - COMMONS AND THE LORDS.</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_138"><i>To face p. 138.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The public in the hall shouted its unanimous assent -after every point.</p> - -<p>Then Károlyi rose to speak, to speak with that -frightful voice which is the natural consequence of his -infirmity. He proclaimed the deposition of the -Hapsburgs, declaimed Wilson’s sacred principles, -the League of Nations, the right of peoples to decide -their own fate, of eternal peace, and wound up in a -pathetic stutter: “only through sufferings, only -through the sea of blood caused by the war, could -the peoples of Europe and the people of Hungary -understand that there was only one possible policy: -the policy of pacificism.... The policy of pacificism -was no more a restricted local policy, but the policy -of the world.... The Hungarian nation, the Hungarian -state and the Hungarian race must cling to this -world-policy, because only such nations will prosper, -only such nations will progress, as can adapt themselves -to, and adopt, the world-policy which is expressed -in the single word <i>Pacificism</i>.”</p> - -<p>The hour was tragical and I had suffered much, -but I could not help laughing. Never did pitiable -blabber say anything more stupid than this, nor -anything more wicked, for while he is proclaiming -pacificism, militarism armed to the teeth is invading -Hungary from all sides. Is it mere stupidity or the -last service to a horrible treason? Whatever it be, -after this it is useless to analyse Károlyi’s mentality.</p> - -<p>The Mirabeau of the Astoria was followed by the -spokesman of the Social Democratic Party: Sigmund -Kunfi-Kunstätter, the Minister for Public Welfare. -He is said to be one of Lenin’s emissaries. His face -is like a vulture’s, his eyes are cunning and inquisitive. -After John Hock’s rhetoric and Károlyi’s disgraceful -stutter, this cashiered Jewish schoolmaster, -who has changed his religion three times for -mercenary reasons but has remained faithful to his -race, spoke with fiendish ingenuity. He mixed truths -with utopias, promised and threatened, and in the -certitude of his victory tore asunder the veil that hid -the future.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span></p> - -<p>“By proclaiming this day a free, popular republic,” -said Kunfi, “we have not only achieved great political -progress, but we have started on a road of -which the past revolution and this day are not the -end but only important milestones.... Political -freedom, the republic, the most radical political -democracy, all these are only means which shall -enable the great struggle, the fight between poverty -and wealth, to start easier and under better -auspices....”</p> - -<p>This is the battle cry of class-war, and till the war -comes Kunfi offers as a narcotic social reforms: the -levelling of poverty and wealth, land for the soldiers -back from the front. And he promises that he will -force the entailed estates, big capital and great -industry, to give up everything that “justice” and -the will of the people claim, and that in such a way -that it will not interfere with the continuity of -economic life.</p> - -<p>This programme, which is not an end but only a -landmark, expresses as yet Kautsky’s ideas. But -then, suddenly, it is no longer Kautsky; it is Lenin -and Liebknecht who speak through this representative -of their creed.</p> - -<p>“Political democracy is only a tool for us,” said -Kunfi; “this political freedom is valuable to us only -because we believe and hope that by its means we -shall be able to carry through the great social transformation -just as bloodlessly, and with as few -victims, as we have managed to achieve the -Hungarian Revolution.”</p> - -<p>“Long live the social revolution,” shouted the -gallery.</p> - -<p>In his next words Kunfi answered the shout and in -the exhilaration of this triumph gave himself away:</p> - -<p>“Our revolutionary work is not over yet! After -reforming our institutions we shall have to alter -mankind!”</p> - -<p>So he confessed that it was not the people who -wanted his institutions, but that his institutions -wanted the people. And as he went on he admitted -that the men of the future were not to be -Hungarians. “Every place in this country must be -filled by individuals who are inspired by the spirit -of the new revolution, of this new Hungary, of this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -new world.” ... His words died away in a last -sentence which, if it is understood by the nation, -ought to rouse it to desperate resistance, for it is the -proclamation of world-Bolshevism: “Every slave-nation -stands this day with reddening cheeks on the -stage of the world, and one after the other the -peoples will rise with red flags and will sing in a -powerful symphony the hymn of the world’s freedom....”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus23" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus23.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">SIGISMUND KUNFI <i>alias</i> KUNSTÄTTER,<br /> - <span class="smaller">LENIN’S EMISSARY. PEOPLES COMMISSARY FOR EDUCATION.</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_140"><i>To face p. 140.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>It is to our everlasting shame that no single -Hungarian rose to choke these words. In the Hall -of Hungary’s parliament Lenin’s agent could unfurl -at his ease the flag of Bolshevism, could blow the -clarion of social revolution and announce the advent -of a world-revolution, while outside, in Parliament -Square, Lovászy and Bokányi, accompanied by -Jászi, informed the people that the National Council -had proclaimed the republic. On the staircase, -Michael Károlyi made another oration. Down in the -square, Landler, Welter, Preusz and other Jews -glorified the republic—there was not a single Hungarian -among them. That was the secret of the -whole revolution. Above: the mask, Michael -Károlyi; below: the foreign race which has proclaimed -its mastery.</p> - -<p>And bands of Hungarian workmen and gypsies -played the National Anthem and the Marseillaise, -and Gallileists sang the Internationale. Humiliated, -with bitter anger, I read in the newspapers of -hundreds of thousands of people, furious cheers, and -the frenzied happiness of the multitude. Thus is the -news spread over the country, while those who were -present say that the people were shivering in the -icy north wind that blew across the square, that they -took everything with indifference, and only cheered -when ordered to do so by their leaders.</p> - -<p>Only when the National Anthem was played and -a few Gallileists refused to uncover did the crowd -knock their hats off. That was all that was done for -the sake of Hungary’s honour. Nobody proclaimed -Michael Károlyi the president of the republic. The -Socialists would not have it. Is he of no more use? -Do they not need him any more? As a compensation, -Kunfi ordered the National Guards to carry him -shoulder high. So Károlyi was carried between the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -ranks of the commandeered trade unions across the -square. The white canvasses with the inscription: -“Let us proclaim Károlyi President of the Republic,” -were rolled up in silence.</p> - -<p>The workmen went home and said among themselves -that now everything would be all right. There -will be good times, and things will be cheap. The -rabble, however, blackguarded the king and cursed -the “gentle-folk.” At the head of one of their groups -a shabby drunken woman walked with unsteady -steps. Shaking her unkempt head she put her arms -round the neck of a young fellow and dragged him -along. After a time she let her companion go, -chose another, and hugged and dragged him along -while she danced some immodest steps.</p> - -<p>Some peasant proprietors who had come there -accidentally, walked in silence towards the city, their -stout boots striking the cobbles firmly. In all this -throng they alone represented the people of great -Hungary.</p> - -<p>A friend of mine followed them, to see what they -would do. At last one of them, an old peasant, who -seemed to have thought it over, stopped and turned -to the others, measuring his words:</p> - -<p>“This republic is a fine thing; but now I should -like to know who is going to be King?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 17th.</i></p> - -<p>How long and terrible the night can be! Clocks -strike, one after the other; one gently, another -hesitatingly, and the fine old alabaster clock is -hoarse, and its chest rattles between every stroke. -Down in the street a carriage races past at a gallop, -then a single shot rings out in the silence. The shot -must have been fired in the street behind our house.... -Then everything relapses into silence for hours. -The floor creaks, as if somebody is walking barefooted -towards my bed, though nothing moves. How -often did the clock strike? I waited impatiently for -the sound, and yet forgot to count the strokes. I lit -the candle. Not even half the night is over, and it -has lasted such an age. Then that hopeless, helpless -despair came over me again. I don’t want to think. -It does no good. Yet in spite of myself something<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -forces itself into my mind, leans over me, like a -ghost. It is <i>yesterday</i>. It comes stealthily over the -threshold, towards me. I shut my eyes in vain: I -can see it though it is dark. I see the day with all -its shame and cowardice. I can see those who have -wrought our ruin triumph and applaud in the exhilaration -of their success: “Long live the Republic!” -My sprained ankle smarts suddenly. The man who -knocked me off the tram is conjured up: his head -sails towards me through the air, as though borne by -huge protruding ears. His nose projects enormously, -and his mouth opens wide and shouts “Long live the -Republic!” The big hall under the cupola of the -House of Parliament was full of mouths like this, -with soft, flabby lips, and the curly thick lips of -women. It was these who proclaimed the republic -for Hungary. And we submitted, suffered it, and -held our peace.</p> - -<p>I try to calm myself, to restrain myself. The -clocks strike again. Then silence once more, -spreading like a thread which a spider draws out. -The silence becomes longer, longer.... I can stand -it no more—if only something would make a noise! -I sit up, shivering, and strike the pillow with my -fist. That does not mend matters. A subdued -moan resounds through the room, a pitiable, miserable -little sound which comes from my heart....</p> - -<p>Do others suffer as much as I do? I have spoken -to nobody, have seen nobody. I don’t know what -they think. I have no one with whom to share my -pain. Maybe that is the reason why it weighs so -heavily upon me. I try to console myself. Things -cannot go on like this. Like everything else it will -pass. The revolution was made because the Jews -were afraid of pogroms by the returning soldiers. -The republic was made because the revolution was -afraid of the counter-revolution. It is an accumulation -of narcotics. But no narcotic lasts for ever. -The only question is, what part of the victim is to -be amputated while it lasts?</p> - -<p>At last a square of light appeared at one side of -the room. At first it was gray, then it became blue, -and finally it turned into daylight. So there was a -new day again; it has come with empty hands and -who knows what it will take with it?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span></p> - -<p>In the afternoon Emma Ritoók opened my door. -“What happened to you?” she asked as she came to -my bedside.</p> - -<p>“A hero of the revolution knocked me off the -tram.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know that he was a hero of the -revolution?”</p> - -<p>“By his ears.... And then, he wore a brand-new -uniform.”</p> - -<p>My friend was infinitely sad this day. Since we -had last met, her credulous Hungarian nature had -gone through an awful time. Despair and rebellion -sounded in all her words. Years ago, when she -attended for a term the lectures at Berlin University, -she became acquainted with two Jews from -Hungary. They met in the philosophy class. They -were friends of her youth, and now these very people -have made the rebellion of the Astoria Hotel against -her country. She complained:</p> - -<p>“They said that we were even incapable of -arranging that by ourselves, that it needed Jews to -obtain Hungary’s independence for the Hungarians. -I answered that we did not do it because it was unnecessary, -that history would have brought us independence -of her own accord. But they declared that -humanity was sick and would not recover till a world -revolution eliminated from this globe the last -machine, the last book, the last sculpture, and the -last violin too. This revolution must sweep away -everything, so that nothing remains but man and -the soil, because humanity is in need of a new soul, -to begin everything from the very beginning.”</p> - -<p>“Tell them in my name that they are speaking -for a race which has grown old, which suffers from -senile decay and would like to be re-born. We are -young, we have not yet exhausted our vitality, -and innumerable possibilities are in store for us. -Only a degenerate race can seek rejuvenation through -destruction. Besides, if they want to re-create by -these means a world torn from its past, it will not be -enough to destroy the last book, the last statue and -the last violin; they must destroy as well the last man -who remembers.”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t be able to tell them,” she answered, -“because I shan’t see them again. Now it is not a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -question of philosophy, it is a question of my -country. And that parts us for ever.”</p> - -<p>“Is that the reason why you sent me a message -that you had a spiritual need to meet me?”</p> - -<p>“We must do something. The men do nothing. -We ought to organise the women. Unconsciously -they are waiting for it. In the Club of Hungarian -Ladies there are many who are of our way of -thinking.”</p> - -<p>“There too?...”</p> - -<p>The Club of Hungarian Ladies was founded a few -years ago by a few aristocratic ladies inspired by -Countess Michael Károlyi. For that reason I never -joined it. Under the publicly proclaimed object of -intellectual intercourse I suspected the ultimate -political purpose. I had been right. In case of the -admittance of women to the franchise, this club was -required to furnish Michael Károlyi with a ready -camp among intellectual women. The events of the -last two weeks wrecked this plan, because the truth -about Károlyi has begun to leak out. At one of -their meetings the nationalist ladies, in opposition -to the socialist, feminist and radical Jewish adherents -of Countess Károlyi, had declared by a great -majority for the territorial integrity of Hungary and -had carried Emma Ritoók’s resolution to address a -protest to the women of the civilised world. -Countess Károlyi, who was present, could not stand -aside, so she promised that the government would -bear the expenses of printing it and would see that -the greatest possible publicity should be given to it -abroad—on the sole condition that her husband -should be allowed to have cognisance of the document. -The members accepted the proposal, which -seemed to forbode no danger to the protest, as it was -to fight for the nation’s right and it would have been -folly to imagine that the government was opposed -to that. They cheered Countess Károlyi and decided -unanimously that although I did not belong to the -club I should be asked to write the preface to the -memorandum.</p> - -<p>I accepted the commission. The interest of my -country was at stake and I would have accepted the -invitation whatever the source whence it came. -Emma Ritoók brought the document back with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -her.... Károlyi had looked through it and had -struck out everything that might have been of any -use to our cause. So that was the reason for -Countess Károlyi’s offer.... A sieve that shall -stop even the smallest national movement. We are -cornered, and when we would cry for help the -government puts its hand over our mouths. Officialdom -holds down our hands when we would help ourselves.</p> - -<p>“Put this carefully away,” I said to my friend, -looking at the mangled document. “One day this -may be another proof of his treason.”</p> - -<p>Various handwritings alternated on the margin, -besides the considerable cuts that had been made in -the text.</p> - -<p>“Jászi has read it, and Biró.... This is -Károlyi’s handwriting; he even signed his name to -it.”</p> - -<p>This was the first time I had seen his handwriting. -Loosely formed characters, words run together, -others only half finished, the lines slanting towards -the corner of the page, capital letters in the middle -of sentences and innumerable mistakes in spelling. -It looked just like him....</p> - -<p>“What shall we do now?” asked my friend. “We -have worked in vain. The government will publish -none but the revised document and it will stop any -other from being sent abroad.”</p> - -<p>“I shall find some way,” I answered; “but I will -never permit my patriotism to be censored by -Michael Károlyi.”</p> - -<p>“Refuse it,” said my mother; “it is better it -should not appear at all than appear in this form.”</p> - -<p>In the evening I wrote a letter to Count Emil -Dessewffy, to whom I had mentioned the memorandum, -asking him to use his social connections, or -the services of the ever-increasing Territorial -Defence League, to get it abroad in its original form. -I wrote in pencil, at some length, and poured all my -bitterness into the letter. I criticised men and -events without mercy. I called Károlyi and his -friends traitors and the leaders of the Social Democrats -the advance guard of Bolshevist world-rule.</p> - -<p>I felt relieved when I had sent the letter. Then, I -don’t know why, I began to feel rather nervous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -about it. That letter might land me in prison. -Nonsense. How could it get into wrong hands?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 18th.</i></p> - -<p>To-night the ground shook in this branded town. -Mackensen’s motor columns were passing through -Budapest. They went, without stopping, dark, thundering, -betrayed, disappointed, out into the wintry -night.... My sister-in-law told me she had seen -them. Big waterproofs covered the clattering -motors and only their lamps betrayed that there was -life in them. Not a man was visible. Like the -phantoms of war they came from distant battle-fields.</p> - -<p>They went on for hours and only once was their -progress stopped. One lorry pulled up for an instant, -a man climbed out from under the waterproof, took -a little box, waved his hand, and disappeared in the -dark. He must have been a Hungarian soldier whom -they had brought with them, goodness only knows -whence. And the waving of the solitary hand was -the only greeting and good-bye that our German -comrades in arms received from Hungary’s capital. -The gray ghostly mass restarted and the others -followed....</p> - -<p>We followed them in our minds, as the eyes of a shipwrecked -crew on a sinking raft follow the ship which -disappears over the horizon without bringing help.</p> - -<p>It has happened ... they are gone, and in their -track follow those whom now nobody can stop.... -And yet, the 1st Home-defence regiment has -arrived with its full equipment, and the regiments -of Debreczen and Pécs are coming too. Another has -come from Albania and more come from Ukraine, -from France and from Italy. Through Innsbruck -alone more than half a million Hungarian troops -have rushed homeward. They are disarmed, disbanded—are -no more. Meanwhile through the pass -of Ojtoz a Roumanian force consisting of sixteen -frontier guards has invaded Hungarian territory. -They looked round, gave the sign, and were followed -by a battalion. They arm and enlist the Transylvanian -Roumanians, and the land is lost to us.</p> - -<p>Last week a small detachment, a few Serbian -troopers, rode into Mohács.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span></p> - -<p>Mohács.... Once upon a time the Hungarian -nation, with its king and its bishops, bled to death -there, resisting the terrific onslaught of the Turks. -The brook Csepel ran red with Hungarian blood, -and the land was covered with Hungarian dead as -far as the eye could see. Now a handful of Serbian -cavalry ride over the mournful, grandiose graves and -tread the deathbed of the King. The field is peacefully -green, the water is clean, and there are no -corpses on the grass. And yet, to-day Mohács is a -greater cemetery of Hungary than it was on the day -of the great death, for to-day there are none left -ready to die for her.</p> - -<p>What a nightmare it all is! Down there the -commander of the Serbian troops says: “I have -been for seven years with my soldiers, and when we -marched through Serbia we passed before our own -houses, and not a single man entered his own home, -but on they went, according to orders.... The -Serbian army has been at war since 1912, and yet it -passed in front of its home, its little fields, its -women, its children, went on and never stopped.” -They come, they come for conquest, and our men do -not defend what is their own. How they must hate -us, our land and our race which has sunk so low! -How we have been poisoned by those who ought to -lead us! With narcotic lies they have inoculated us -and planted the plague in our souls.</p> - -<p>If only one could get away from these maddening -thoughts, could tear them out of one’s brain and get -a moment’s rest. But it cannot be done. They -cling to us obstinately. These winter days in bed -are terrible, and awful are the long, sleepless nights. -Sometimes I think that people don’t go mad here -because they are already all lunatics.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 19th.</i></p> - -<p>Snow is falling. The roofs are white and shine -against the background of the gray sky. Scanty, -economical fires burn in our grates: the Serbians -have occupied the coal-fields of Pécs, the Roumanians -those of Petrozsény, so Hungary has no longer any -coal, and the Czechs stop the supplies from -Germany. In the gas-stove the flame is small and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -gives no heat. The new order diminishes the supply -of electricity, and the globes have to be taken out of -the chandelier. Only one is allowed in the room, -and it sends its light sideways into a corner. I -hobbled over to my mother. The partial light left -dark recesses in the corners, and made the place -unhomely, sad.</p> - -<p>The table in the dining-room seemed to have -changed too. In the silver vases there are still some -evergreen twigs from our summer home, but flowers -there are no longer. Everything is getting so expensive. -Our fare diminishes every day too, but we pretend -not to notice it. Every day sees the disappearance -of something we were accustomed to. Things -we used to take as granted have become luxuries. -Already during the long years of war things were -not always what they seemed: coffee was not -coffee, nor were the tea, the sugar, or even the -bread above suspicion. We got accustomed to substitutes, -but now even these have disappeared. In -the shops the shelves are empty, and the new stocks -fail to appear. Those who can, buy and hoard. -Germany and Austria have stopped sending us the -products of their industries. We tighten our belts -and get thinner and poorer every day.</p> - -<p>Across the street one window is still lit up, though -it is getting late. As I look up I can see a man -making a selection of his clothes. He lifts up a -coat, holds it under the lamp, puts it aside, then -takes it up again; now he inspects a waist-coat, -some linen. A woman comes in and they talk for a -few moments. Then they throw an overcoat on the -table and hide the rest in the bed, under the mattresses. -They make a selection of boots too. The -woman puts one pair with the overcoat, and they -hide the others in the cupboard, behind some books.</p> - -<p>Choosing and hiding of this kind goes on to-day -in every house in the country.</p> - -<p>The popular Government has issued a decree, -striving to satisfy the demands of the disarmed troops -by requisition. Its confidential agents are to visit -the people in their homes and requisition clothes, -linen and boots, without any compensation. Those -who hide anything will have the whole of their supply -with the exception of a single suit, confiscated and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -will be punished with a fine of 2,000 crowns or six -months’ imprisonment.</p> - -<p>This is a curious order, for it affects principally -those who have suffered most from the high prices -of the war and the exactions of the profiteers, namely -the middle-classes, whose poor, shabby, outworn -clothes are the only remaining outward sign of their -higher cultural position, and whose only means of -clothing their children consists in utilizing every possible -rag. Moreover there is a new element embodied -in this order, for by it the authorities have taken the -first step towards disposing of private property -without due compensation. They lay claim to -search homes, and thus the thin end of the wedge has -been driven into the sacred rights of privacy and -private property.</p> - -<p>Suddenly shots were fired somewhere near the -hospital. On the other side of the road, in the -lighted room, the woman raised her head, and seeing -that she had forgotten to lower the blinds, she -hastened to do so, in order to hide the theft that she -and her husband were committing in their own home, -for themselves, on their own poor little hoard of -worn-out clothes.</p> - -<p>Even as I looked I was astonished at my own -feelings. In my heart I approved of those who tried -to evade the order: and yet, my ideas of honesty -had not changed—it was the honesty of the law -which had altered. Only three weeks ago it protected -us, now it is a means of attack, and we, persecuted -humanity, are only acting in our own defence -when we conspire for its defeat.</p> - -<p>The sound of footsteps in the street roused me, for -it is a rare thing after the doors of the houses are -shut. The footsteps went by rapidly, as if in a -flurry. I listened for a time, wondering whether some -devilry were afoot—but no, nowadays it is only -those who walk slowly, steadily, that mean mischief.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 20th.</i></p> - -<p>Our road leads through a mist and nobody can see -the end of it. Some day, when we look back upon -the past, many things may appear simple and clear -which now, while we are living through them, seem<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -mysterious and incomprehensible. Events come -fast, crowding one on the other without rhyme or -reason. Common sense is of no use, for our fate is -woven by maniacs. We have occasional bright -moments, little flickers which the storm extinguishes. -If we see clearly for an instant, darkness falls before -we can find our way, and in its gloom, fate deals us -such blows that we become giddy and lose our bearings. -Nothing helps. Everything is new and strange; -in a present like this the past is no guide. One -cannot acquire the habit of dying!—and Hungary is -struggling in agony in the hands of her murderers.</p> - -<p>To-day the lamp flared up in an unexpected way, -for I heard news which staggered me, stopped the -beating of my heart and left me speechless. I heard -the familiar step of my brother Géza passing through -the drawing-room to my mother’s room, and rushed -after him with a feverish desire to hear and to know. -Perhaps he might be the bearer of hopeful news, as -he used to be during the war; then, whenever he -came to see mother, there had been a bright spot in -our gloom. But now he sat in a state of collapse in -the tall green armchair, and fury distorted his face.</p> - -<p>“All these scoundrels are traitors. Lieut.-Colonel -Julier has told me how damnably they have betrayed -the country. They are leading it to destruction.” -He banged the table with his clenched fist. -“Do you know that the armistice of Belgrade was -superfluous? The Common High Command had -arranged with General Diaz, who was the delegate of -the Allies, for an armistice for us too as from the 4th -of November, leaving the frontiers of Hungary untouched -and fixing the pre-war frontiers as the line -of demarcation. There was to be no enemy occupation. -And on the 6th of November Michael -Károlyi, in Belgrade, opened the flood-gates on us.”</p> - -<p>There was a weary silence in the room for a while. -It was so terrible, so monstrous, that, though my -opinion of Károlyi and his gang was low enough, I -could scarcely believe it.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they—perhaps Károlyi didn’t know the -conditions of Diaz’s armistice?”</p> - -<p>“They did; it was in Károlyi’s pocket before he -went to Belgrade,” my brother said. “They did it -for the sake of power, for the doubtful honour that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -the conclusion of peace should be in their names. -Franchet d’Espèray could not understand why they -came. Then he gave them their medicine: ‘If you -want it, have it!’ says he.”</p> - -<p>Everything seemed to be collapsing round us, even -that which had till now remained standing, and it -was as though the weight of it fell on us and buried -us under its ruin. It seemed incomprehensible that -the lamp still stood there, where it had been before, -and the chairs, the couch, the cupboards.... Then -I saw my mother’s hands as they clasped one -another spasmodically in her lap. I heard her voice, -which sounded as if it came struggling up among the -ruins, with infinite pain:</p> - -<p>“If the curse of an old woman carries any weight, -I curse them!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 21st.</i></p> - -<p>To-day the newspapers are full of the complaints of -Károlyi’s government. The government has sent -protesting telegrams to the Allies, the Czechs, the -Roumanians. It appeals to the armistice concluded -with the Allied armies, to the Wilsonian principles, -to world-saving pacifism. It clamours for justice, -help, food, and coal. And Károlyi threatens that -“if the Allies do not want to see the formation of -‘green’ forces—he does not mention the ‘red’ because -he has already formed those—”if the Allies -do not wish that this part of Europe should be given -up to plunder, incendiarism and robbery, it is the -eleventh hour....”</p> - -<p>But the Allies are well aware that Károlyi’s rule -has already achieved all this, and they don’t trouble -to answer. On the other hand Kramarz, with whom -Károlyi had conspired against the interests of his -country during the war answers in the name of the -Czechs, haughtily, derisively: “The Allies have decided -that the territories inhabited by the Slovaks -shall form part of the Czecho-Slovak Republic, and -not of the Hungarian state. Consequently Hungary -cannot conclude an armistice for the Slovak parts, as -these have already been incorporated into Czecho-Slovakia.” -That is his answer, and the King of -Roumania’s answer is an appeal to his army: -“Soldiers. The long expected hour has come. The -Allies have crossed the Danube and it is time that -we should rise to arms.... Our brethren in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -Bukovina and Transylvania call us to the last battle. -Victory is ours. Forward! God is with us.”</p> - -<p>The armistice of Belgrade makes all our enemies -see red. Károlyi’s government has opened the door -to the Serbians, and the rest of them are breaking it -in for themselves; they come aflame with hatred, -and come incessantly.</p> - -<p>I feel like death, and giddy with rage, when I -read Károlyi’s speeches. “Confidence is due to the -government,” says he—and he defends the Socialists: -“Let nobody presume to say that they are -unpatriotic, that the fate of their country is not dear -to their hearts ...” and the radicals: “In Arad, -Minister Jászi has fought to the last gasp for the -integrity of Hungarian territory....” In short, he -defends everybody who does not defend the country.</p> - -<p>Among the parties which support the government -differences become more manifest every day. They -have practically formed two distinct sections, on one -side the guilty, misguided Hungarians, on the other, -the Socialists and Radicals, the foreign race. The -latter are the stronger because they are better -organised, and know what they want. Michael -Károlyi is entirely under their influence, caught in -the meshes of a net that is being drawn rapidly towards -the extremist side.</p> - -<p>Unity in politics only exists as long as it is a -question of attaining power. The power, once attained, -itself serves to divide the victors—swollen -with pride and insolence. That is the moment to -smash them.</p> - -<p>“It would be premature,” Count Dessewffy told -me, when I met him to-day in the street. I had only -a short talk with him, for he was due at a meeting. -They are forming an agrarian party, and hope to -organise the peasant proprietors of the country.</p> - -<p>“I have just remembered,” he added with a laugh; -“only think of it. Károlyi means to send you on a -political errand to Italy....”</p> - -<p>“Does he always choose with such discernment?” -I replied, and I could not help laughing myself. -“Let him get me a passport and I will use my Italian -connections—on two conditions.”</p> - -<p>“What are they?”</p> - -<p>“Firstly, that I travel at my own expense, so that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -I needn’t accept a penny from them; secondly, that -I do not go in the interest of their republic and their -government, but exclusively in the interest of my -country. But that, I fear, won’t suit them.”</p> - -<p>As I walked on I reflected on what I had heard. -Dessewffy had information of the country’s mood, -and he had said:</p> - -<p>“The peasantry and the provincial towns do not -take to the idea of this disguised communist republic, -suggested by Pest. There are considerable parts of -the country which are restrained with difficulty from -openly espousing the cause of monarchy.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t hold them down, let them raise their voice -and sweep the board of this scum!” I had cried. -But Dessewffy only repeated: “It would be premature. -Let this crowd die off first.”</p> - -<p>I ran into a ladder standing across the footpath; -a man was sitting on top of it, scraping the wall -diligently. Dirt has effaced the last traces of such -inscriptions as “By appointment to the Imperial -and Royal Court,” which October 31st had torn -down in its fury. Now new work is being done on -the shop-signs, and those that bear names like -Hapsburg, Berlin, Hohenzollern, Hindenburg, and -Vienna, are taken down. The cafés are in a tearing -hurry to alter the names they bore before the war, -and the Judaized town sycophantically re-christens -itself, plastering its places of amusement with labels -such as: Paris Salon, French Café, English Park and -American Bar.</p> - -<p>I feel the utmost contempt for them, and I’m sure -that the foreign invaders, whom fate will bring here, -will feel the same towards them. A people which -denies, or tolerates that others should deny in its -name, its past, tramples on its own honour. For -days the government has been announcing the arrival -of French troops. The town is being prepared for -their reception, and we have to sit down quietly under -this hideous farce and suffer it.</p> - -<p>One of Károlyi’s papers writes to-day: “The first -French soldiers will probably arrive to-morrow in -Budapest, and the youngest republic greets with love -the champions of Liberty, Fraternity and Equality. -Instead of stiff, haughty German swashbucklers, -charming, good-humoured French officers; instead of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -the clumsy German soldiers with their heavy boots, -our streets will be filled with the petted <i>poilus</i>.... -Beside the Hungarian inscriptions we ought to put -up French inscriptions everywhere on our public -institutions ... tradespeople should put on their -shops: ‘<i>Ici on parle français.</i>’ German translations -on the bills of fare should be omitted....”</p> - -<p>A government which prints such shame in its newspapers, -a press which can find a single compositor to -set it, a public which will stand it, must surely have -reached the lowest depths of humiliation.</p> - -<p>Flags of the national colours float festively overhead. -And the government calls in the French troops -of occupation, and offers their commander the most -beautiful spot in the country, the royal castle, as a -residence, because, it says: “They are not enemies, -but gladly welcomed guests....”</p> - -<p>Every drop of blood in me is boiling with shame -and helpless rage, and my mind goes back to a long -past page of memory—1871. An early morning in -Paris. In close formation, headed by its flags, the -victorious German army enters Paris. Along its -route the windows are closed, flags of mourning float -from the houses, and the still-burning street-lamps -are shrouded in crepe; the people, conscious of its -dignity even in the moment of its humiliation, observes -a gloomy silence in the streets. No order has been -given, no instructions have been issued, yet, men, -women and children, all turn their heads aside, and -the eyes of the victors fail to meet the tear-dimmed -eyes, burning with hate, of the vanquished....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 22nd.</i></p> - -<p>The sky has descended to the very roofs. Snow -falls continually and deepens in the streets. But -the Office of Public Health appeals in vain for workmen -at twenty crowns a day to remove the snow from -the streets. They roar with laughter as they read -it, and go on to draw their unemployment dole, while -still the snow falls and falls, obstructing the doors -of houses, lying knee-deep in the quiet side-streets.</p> - -<p>Near the principal railway station it is like wading -in a dusty, white, ploughed field, and even in the -covered interior of the station one walks on soft<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> -ground, for there dirt and decaying garbage accumulate -in heaps. Nobody does any cleaning nowadays. -There is the unemployment dole!</p> - -<p>To-day even the refreshment room is invaded by -an insufferable stench, and there are vermin creeping -on the walls. The bread given to the wounded is uneatable, -and the tea is just slop-water. There is no -fire in the stove, and the cold is biting; even during -the war the place was never so miserable as it is -now. There are fewer wounded, and the place is -filled with able-bodied soldiers passing through the -town. They come from distant battle-fields, ragged -and dirty, and often they only get here to learn that -there is no home for them to go to. Nowhere! -Serbians, Roumanians and Czechs have occupied the -ancient homes of Hungarian peasants.</p> - -<p>A Transylvanian Hussar sat on a bench and cursed -loudly, sobbing now and then like a child. An old -peasant from the Banat, a wounded old soldier, knelt -there with tears pouring from his eyes. He was a -descendant of those Saxons who had settled in -Hungary six hundred years ago, and he exclaimed -in his archaic German: “The Serbians have come to -us! Oh, our poor country, poor country!” and the -sergeant of the medical corps in his red-cockaded cap -swore loudly at him.</p> - -<p>Then a woman came through the door, dragging -two little children by the hand. She asked for bread, -they had been three days without food. “I shall go -to Károlyi,” she cried, “he shall see that justice is -done! My husband is an official in the Banat. The -Serbians have arrested him. They beat him till he -fainted and then locked him up. There are many like -that. Those who do not swear allegiance to them -are cudgelled and locked up. All the Hungarian -administration has disappeared.... The police have -been disarmed too. Then they requisition and don’t -pay. There are no newspapers—they are confiscated. -They call us ‘dogs of Hungarians’ and say that our -land is now in Serbia. There is no post—all the -letters addressed to Hungarians are opened, and if -they contain money it is taken.”</p> - -<p>A soldier came close up and listened with open -mouth.</p> - -<p>“Do you come from the Banat?” the woman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -asked. “Then don’t you go home! The Serbians are -enlisting our men and taking them to forced labour. -Nobody comes back from that.”</p> - -<p>The man looked at her for a while vacantly, then -muttered helplessly: “But surely, now there is -peace....”</p> - -<p>Night began to fall. The big chandelier hung -unlighted from the ceiling of the dirty hall, save for -an isolated side-branch here and there, which -scattered an ugly patchy glare in the twilight. On -a bench a blind soldier lay on his back; he smiled -continually in a queer way, as if the smile were frozen -on his face, and his cap was tilted over his sightless -eyes.</p> - -<p>“You hail from the Great Plain?” I asked him.</p> - -<p>“I come from Szalonta ...” he grumbled -sleepily.</p> - -<p>And I imagined the poor young fellow, in the -stifling summer heat of the Plain, stretched at the -foot of a stack for his mid-day rest, shading his eyes -from the glaring rays of the sun with his little round -hat. But now no sunshine will ever hurt his eyes -again, and the soil of a thousand Hungarian harvests -is being torn from us. Poor fellow! Does he know -that he has sacrificed his young eyes for nought?</p> - -<p>A man of the Army Medical Corps came in and -told us that some wounded had arrived in the shed. -My sister Vera and I took tea and bread. As I went -along I overheard a conversation among some -soldiers near the wall. Said one: “I put my knife -into him with a will; the point came out at his back. -The other one escaped.” “I did one in too,” said a -deeper voice. I thought I must be dreaming. I -stopped, but could not make out what else was said, -as they began to talk in thieves’ jargon. “I’ll -report them ...” I thought—but I only thought -that for a moment, for I saw the sergeant with the -red ribbon on his arm, and the pince-nez on his nose, -going up to them and shaking hands.... No, -one can’t report anyone nowadays. As I went on, -the talk became louder behind me. They mentioned -a name, but it meant nothing to me; at that moment -it was a mere sound, and it was not till much later -that I remembered that I had heard it before—Béla -Kún. He had been a communist agitator in Russia,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -who, with several others, had been sent to Hungary -by Trotski to work in his interest. It is said that -they brought money with them, a lot of money, and -it is rumoured that they had something to do with -the events of October. More followed them, and -though the government knows all about them, still -it allows them to cross the border. Trotski, -Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg, and then this lot—Nets -are spread broadcast and tunnels burrowed -under-ground. The suburbs of Budapest are haunted -by ugly, red-eyed monsters. To-day they still hide -in the dark, slink along the walls with drawn-in -claws. But to-morrow—who knows?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 23rd.</i></p> - -<p>The dark wall at the station and the voices I heard -there followed me into the night, lingered in my -thoughts, and were still there in the morning when -I woke.</p> - -<p>In the evening I mentioned the incident to my -mother, and she too had heard of the man called -Béla Kún. His real name was Berele Kohn, the son -of a Galician Jew who came over the frontier with a -pack on his back. He himself had risen to be a -journalist and the secretary of the Socialist party in -Kolozsvár, from which job he went to the Workman’s -Benevolent Society. There he stole. The war -saved him from prosecution. He was called up, and -sent to the Russian front, where he soon managed to -surrender. Through his international racial connections -he got to Moscow, where he fell in with -Trotski, and from then onward carried on his propaganda -among prisoners. He became the leader in -Russia of the Jewish Communists from Hungary, -edited a Hungarian paper called “The Social Revolution,” -and finally joined a Bolshevist directorate -in one of the smaller towns and played his part in -the atrocities committed there.</p> - -<p>“I heard,” my mother said, “that he came back -with a lot of Russian money. Károlyi’s government -does not interfere with him in any way.”</p> - -<p>“Of course; Károlyi is said to be in communication -with Trotski through Diener-Dénes and -Landler,” I replied.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span></p> - -<p>Károlyi went to Switzerland in the autumn of -1917 with Diener-Dénes and Jászi, who introduced -him to Henri Guilbeaux, an extreme syndicalist -and defeatist editor, who used his newspaper to work -for the same moral dissolution which was carried to -power in Russia by Lenin and Trotski. It is said -that it was this Guilbeaux who converted Károlyi to -the ideas which Béla Kún has now come to represent -among us. Later came the congratulatory wire of -the Soviet’s Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, the -destructive work of the Radical and Socialist -ministers, the confirmation of Pogány’s Soldiers’ -Council and of his system of confidential shop-stewards -and the unrestricted freedom of communist -agitators.... These are signs of his guilt, and they -are a dark augury for the future.</p> - -<p>This is a new milestone which fills us with apprehension, -another one of those measures which are -meant to undermine the existing Social order.</p> - -<p>The great French Revolution was fatally influenced -from the day that the people and the rabble of Paris -stormed the Arsenal and plundered it. In Budapest -no force is required. The Police Commissioner himself -has instructed the police and the people’s guards -to confiscate all arms and ammunition from those -who possess no permit—and nowadays permits are -only given to workmen and the mob.</p> - -<p>That is another breach in the power of resistance -of the middle classes and in the sanctity of the home. -Henceforth the people’s guards have the right to -search for arms. The citizens are helpless, and I -hear that everywhere people are giving up their shotguns -and revolvers.</p> - -<p>We are a pack of spell-bound sleep-walkers. The -wizard glares at us with his big, oriental eyes and -pronounces his spell, which varies according to the -times: Democracy, Socialism. Yesterday the magic -word was Liberalism, to-morrow it may be -Communism.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 24th.</i></p> - -<p>Nights are sleepless nowadays, yet I cannot work. -As if every word of beauty had been engulfed by the -mire through which I wade in day time, I cannot<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -form a single idea. In the dreary desert of my brain -nothing wanders but horrors: the morning brings -them, and they are not banished by the end of the -day.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp53" id="illus24" style="max-width: 31.25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus24.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">BELA KUN (KOHN).</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_160"><i>To face p. 160.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>I wrote some letters last night, and this morning -I sent out for stamps. The maid put them on the -writing table before me.</p> - -<p>What is this?—Printed across the portrait of the -King, of the Queen, across the picture of the house of -Parliament, there is the black surcharge: “Republic.” -Printed over the beautiful little head of -the Queen, “Republic”: the word runs across St. -Stephen’s crown on the King’s head!</p> - -<p>A thought that has tortured me many times since -the 16th of November once again wrings my heart: -The crown, our crown....</p> - -<p>It is not a jewel, it is not an ornament, it is not -pomp, it is Hungary itself. Kingdoms have come -and gone, but there was no people in this world to -whom its crown meant so much as our crown meant -to us. The Hungarian crown is every Hungarian -soul, every clod of its soil, every Hungarian harvest. -With it is torn from the country’s head not kingship -alone, but all that we have been, all that we may -ever be. From century to century the ancient -symbol wrought in gold has been preserved in an -iron-bound chest up there in the religious gloom of -the castle of Buda; within the last thousand years it -has only appeared in the light of day fifty-three -times, borne on the heads of fifty-three Kings—over -the Hungarian land. And once more, when a -thousand years had passed, on the day of the -Millenium.... Exposed to the public view, it lay -on the altar of the Coronation Church. The people -came, I saw them with my own eyes—gray-haired -peasants, workmen, lords—and bent the knee in -front of it as if before a holy thing. And I saw it on -the head of King Charles on a December day, under -the ancient walls of regal Buda, amidst the unfurled -banners of sixty-three counties, amidst deafening -cheers, amidst the sound of our great, clear, -national anthem.</p> - -<p>Traitors and <i>sans-patries</i> have torn St. Stephen’s -crown from its place with sacrilegious hands. That -crown was not only a King’s head-dress. Like a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -golden hoop it welded together the giant range of -the Carpathians, Transylvania, the blue gulf of -Adria, Croatia and Slavonia—the whole realm of the -Great Plain, the country which formed the most perfect -geographical unit in Europe. And now that the -golden hoop holds it together no longer, that which -has been united since the beginning of time falls to -pieces and to ruins.</p> - -<p>I was gripped by a maddening fear and began to -tremble with apprehension for the crown, as if it were -something more living than life itself. I felt that -we only existed as long as it existed, that its destruction -would make our destruction inevitable. What -do they plot, these present despots of ours, who hate -everything that connects us with our past? It is not -Károlyi who will stop them: as far as he is concerned -they can do what they like with the crown.</p> - -<p>A few days ago Count Ambrózy, the Keeper of the -Crown Jewels, went to Michael Károlyi’s house and -asked for admittance. Károlyi was lunching with -Count Pejacsevich when the butler announced that -the Keeper of the Crown Jewels was waiting.</p> - -<p>“Let him wait,” said Károlyi. “I am lunching,” -and continued his meal undisturbed. After a time -he was told again that Count Ambrózy wanted to see -him urgently, as he had to leave town. Károlyi, to -whom Kéri, Jászi and Pogány are admitted at all -hours, sent a message to the first grandee of Hungary, -to wait. He lit his cigar and sipped his coffee. About -half an hour later the Keeper of the Crown Jewels -sent another message.</p> - -<p>“If he cannot wait, let him go,” said Károlyi. -Count Pejacsevich implored him. At last he gave -in. “All right, I’ll settle with him in two minutes.”</p> - -<p>He went out, cigar in mouth, and two minutes -later was back again. “Settled,” he said laughing. -“Ambrózy came to ask me what should be done with -the crown. I told him: take it to a bank, or put it -into your pocket, I don’t care....”</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus25" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus25.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">ST. STEPHEN’S CROWN<br /> - <span class="smaller">(THE HOLY HUNGARIAN CROWN).</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_162"><i>To face p. 162.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>And I seemed to see again the mystic dusk of the -Coronation Church, its pillars and arches, and there -in front of the altar, set on purple velvet, the pale -gold of the Crown.... I see the gray head of an -aged peasant whose sharp Turanian features seem as -if cut out with a chisel from the gloom of the church;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -the head bows, and his horny hand makes the sign of -the cross on his breast.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 25th.</i></p> - -<p>My mother brought a porcelain figure into the -room to-day. “It is broken,” she said, and put the -Sévres shepherd and his tiny broken hand on the -table. Its beauty filled me for a moment with -extraordinary rapture: doubtless it appeared so -lovely to me because nowadays everything we see is -so very ugly and depressing.</p> - -<p>“Of course I know it’s going to stay here with -you for the winter,” my mother said with a slight -reproach in her voice, reminding me of the many -small commissions I forgot from time to time.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take it at once ...” I said.</p> - -<p>“There is no need for that; there is plenty of -time if you are otherwise engaged.”</p> - -<p>At that moment I felt I had no other task in the -whole world but her little porcelain figure. I said -goodbye and went.</p> - -<p>It was getting dark. Here and there the sparsely -subdued glimmer of the gas-lamps made a pretence -of lighting the streets; dust-bins full of garbage stood -in front of the houses, but nobody could be found to -cart them away. The air was saturated with an -acid, unwholesome smell, which fostered the epidemic -that had raged in the town for weeks, creeping in -through filthy entrances, climbing the dirty stairs, -and, in the chill of fireless houses, laying its hand on -the heart of the inhabitants.</p> - -<p>When I reached the little street I wanted it was -practically in darkness. Only the shop windows cast -square patches of yellow light on the footpath. I -entered a little shop in one of whose mean windows -some old china was displayed. The shelves, the -tables, every available space was filled with broken -china, and the repairer sat among the débris, with his -hat on his head and in his winter coat, looking for -all the world like a picture by a Dutch master. He -had noble features, and his white beard covered his -chest, and on his first finger he wore an old ring with -a coat of arms.... One day when I had gone there -he had told me that he came of a county family. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -had owned land, and a nice house with a pillared -court, under the shade of old trees; he used to drive -a four-in-hand and to collect china as a hobby. -Somehow the land, the house, the horses disappeared; -so did his collection, and the only thing that -was left to him was the art of repairing broken -porcelain by which he now eked out a sort of living.</p> - -<p>When I had finished my business with him I did -not go straight home. One street after another -seemed to call to me, and I walked on thinking sadly -of that old Hungarian’s fate. Shop after shop I -passed, all with Jewish names—marine stores, -crockery-shops, tallow-chandlers, small bazaars. A -few years ago their owners had lived in Galicia, and -all of a sudden they had appeared in the streets of -Pest selling boot-laces. They had never shouldered -a hod, never carried bricks, never followed the -plough, but made money without hard work, by -buying and selling; now they had their shop, the -cradle of millions. They start their careers in the -narrow streets in which our own folk end theirs.</p> - -<p>Somehow I had wandered into the crowded -quarters of Budapest’s ghetto. These streets had -been fixed by nobody as the abode of the invading -Jews. The times have passed long ago when a Jew -was not allowed to stay a night either in Buda or in -Pest, and when he could own neither house nor shop. -In fifty years they have conquered the town, and -yet they have formed for themselves a little ghetto -of their very own. They have invaded whole streets, -occupying tenement-houses, in which they can live -amongst themselves. The newly built streets and -houses soon became filthy, and the entrances -vomited the same odour which I have smelt in the -ghettoes of Amsterdam, Rome and Venice.</p> - -<p>As I looked up I felt as if I were in a foreign town -whose houses were silently conspiring in the dark -above the lighted shops. I had never noticed it -before, but there seemed to be here a secret, antagonistic -life which had nothing in common with ours, -from which we were excluded. The mask was -dropped and the character of the streets became -visible. The sense of security of this foreign race had -increased to such an extent that it forgot to hide -itself. It had been dissembling for a good while,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -though, and we had lived here, and had heard and -seen nothing. We did not trouble about the course -of events, and while they clasped hands fanatically, -from the gin shops at the village end, from tenement-houses, -editorial offices, shops, banks and palaces, -over five continents, we forsaken Hungarians could -not hold together even in our own little country.</p> - -<p>Some of us begin to see clearly to-day, though -what is happening now happened yesterday too—then -in secretive darkness, now in open daylight. The -immigrants have effaced the features of our race from -the land, have dug out our souls from our national -affairs and substituted their faces, their soul. This -evil work has been going on for a long time.</p> - -<p>The people who came from foreign lands were -foreign to us only, but not to the people of the -ghetto. They whispered things we did not hear, -went to the ghetto of some other town, whispered -again, and again went on and on. Trotski had been -in Budapest—he had lived here years ago. Others -came too, people whose co-religionists alone knew -what they were after. We only saw worms that -cringed, we never listened to what they said to each -other.</p> - -<p>I felt as if the whole quarter were speaking, as if -every house, every street in it were quoting from the -ancient book of its inhabitants: “A people which -have eyes to see, and see not; they have ears to hear -and hear not.”</p> - -<p>My wandering eyes were suddenly arrested by the -sight of three men. One had the features of a negro, -the second a heavy, fat face, and the third was quite -small, with red eyelids and white eyelashes. Their -heads were close together. When I stopped in front -of a shop window and pretended to look at its contents -they stopped talking, and I saw by the reflection -in the window that they looked at me, nodded at one -another and moved on. Two others, clad in gabardines, -came towards me. They wore fur caps and -gesticulated violently with dirty hands raised to the -level of their shoulders. One was speaking; the -other listened with his eyes fixed on the ground and -with dirty fingers caught hold of the lock dangling -from the side of his head and drew it out straight to -his chin. He stood like that for a time, reflectively,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -and occasionally mumbled a word. Then, noticing -that I was looking at him, he stopped in the middle -of a word and let his lock go; it curled up to his ear -like a spring. Then they too went on.</p> - -<p>King Street swarmed around me. Unkempt, fat -women stood in the doorways, silk dresses rustled -on the pathway, and the smell of filth mingled with -that of cheap scent. Children shrieked. From the -entrances of restaurants with Hebrew names the reek -of garlic spread into the street. The doors of small -shops opened and closed continually, and the articles -suspended on them swung about; chains and watches -rattled against the panes, stockings and ribbons -fluttered to and fro, and the medley of badly lit -windows displayed old clothes, confectionery, -plucked geese, jewellery, boots. A woman passed, -pushing along a perambulator laden with soap. On -the street corner a bandy-legged little monster in a -gabardine sold figs and blinked with his dull eyes at -the passers-by. A red-bearded man stopped near -him. They spoke fast and their lips moved as if they -had gulped down some burning hot mouthfuls of -something. As I approached them the red-bearded -one turned abruptly round and slipped into a goldsmith’s -shop. I looked after him.... A quaint -old watch was hanging in the shop-window. I wondered -what they wanted for it.</p> - -<p>The chains hanging from the entrance door tinkled -as I went in. A shaded lamp hung from the smoky -ceiling low above the glazed counter, in which rings -and ear-rings were displayed on velvet cushions. -Several people were standing in a corner, but as soon -as they saw me they retired to the back of the shop. -Only a fat flabby girl remained, and as she asked me -what I wanted she fingered her untidy black hair, -and scratched herself. Meanwhile she watched the -door, and when it opened bent quickly over the -counter and pointed with her grimy thumb over her -shoulder. A well-dressed man in a fur coat, and with -a typical face, passed behind me and joined the -others. Then a sailor came in and he too was called -in to join the group. Many voices whispered mysteriously -in the room at the back of the shop. I -listened attentively, straining my ears to hear something, -one sentence, of all this talk which was not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> -meant for us and was only mentioned among themselves—but -I could not understand a word....</p> - -<p>“I am afraid it won’t do,” I said to the girl, and -hurried out of the shop in disgust.</p> - -<p>I walked fast, almost running through the crowd, -as if I were escaping the meshes of a conspiracy -which floated in the air but which one could not -grasp, because as soon as one touched it it fell to -pieces like slime.</p> - -<p>The whole quarter was on the look-out for some -prey. Its streets were haunted by some premeditated -crime. In its houses a greedy monster, which -has never shut its eyes for a thousand years, kept -vigil.</p> - -<p>Away from here, into the fresh air! I was haunted -by the thought of the room in the little shop, the -whispering Jews, Russian money on the table; of the -sergeant with his golden pince-nez, who had mentioned -the name of Béla Kún to the soldiers; of the faces -of Jászi, Kunfi and Louis Hatvany; of the bandy-legged -monster at the street corner, the man with -the red beard and the flabby girl.... They are all -after the same thing and are helping each other all -they can, while we have lost the power of wanting -anything at all....</p> - -<p>That night I wrote an appeal to the women of -Hungary. Women! sleep not, or your children will -have no place to lay their heads....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 26th.</i></p> - -<p>In the afternoon I walked towards the boulevards.</p> - -<p>Countess Louis Batthyany had telephoned that -she wanted to see me. I made my way through a -dense crowd, for the town is overrun by the constant -influx of refugees and of thousands of home-coming -soldiers. On the boulevards people thronged; there -hardly seemed to be enough room for them. The -human tide overflowed into the by-streets, pushed, -pressed, swarmed and accumulated in front of the -windows of newspaper offices like a knotted muscle. -In the office window of an evening newspaper were -some photographs, and under one of them was an -inscription, “The members of the Soldiers’ Council.” -There were too many people for me to get near, so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -that I could only see it at a distance as I passed—the -faces, exhibited in glory, of those who were -guilty of the rebellion of October, and who may one -day be called to account.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of that?” a voice asked -among the loiterers. “The Minister for War has had -Heltai arrested for embezzlement, robbery and -murder.” “What? the ex-commander of the -town?” “That’s him ... and now his sailors -are coming in armoured cars with machine-guns to -rescue him. There’s going to be trouble.” The news -spread at once. “Have you heard it?” “It is not -true?” “But it is!” There was a panic. And the -people in the streets carried it on with them: “The -sailors are coming! They have left Pressburg, they -have left the Czechs....”</p> - -<p>Crowded electric trams passed, so crammed with -people that the pressure inside nearly broke the cars’ -sides; outside people were hanging on everywhere. -I saw some soldiers coming along, when suddenly one -of them tumbled forward, tripped over his own foot -and fell, face downward, on the pavement. Nobody -troubled about him and even his companions went on -indifferently. With a remnant of war-time charity -I stooped over him, thinking that perhaps he had an -artificial leg, or was suffering from an epileptic fit. -When I took hold of his arm to help him to get up -again, however, I found that he was drunk and -vomiting. As I started back I heard his companions -roar with laughter.</p> - -<p>The crowd carried me on, but the incident was -like a thorn thrust into one’s heart. Soldiers, -Hungarian soldiers! There had been a time when -my eyes filled with tears at the sight of them. How -proud I had felt of them, how I had respected them, -I had loved them as being the personified courage of -my race. What are they now...?</p> - -<p>When I arrived at my friend’s house I found the -talk turning on Michael Károlyi, to whom several of -those present were related. I asked them if they -knew the conditions of the armistice concluded with -Diaz, that they had safeguarded the frontiers of the -country, which the Belgrade treaty had sacrificed? -The news was so mad, so impossible, that doubt -showed in every eye.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span></p> - -<p>“I know it for certain,” I said; “a member of the -armistice commission, Lieut.-Colonel Julier, told my -brother so.”</p> - -<p>Anger succeeded consternation on every face.</p> - -<p>“Get me the text,” Count Julius Batthyany -shouted, “and I will have the two documents posted -up, side by side, and within twenty-four hours the -whole government will collapse.”</p> - -<p>His beautiful mother looked at him doubtfully:</p> - -<p>“Do you imagine that there is so much liberty left -in this town? The posters would be torn to shreds -before they could be stuck on the walls.”</p> - -<p>“They promised us the freedom of the press and -of opinions, and we get nothing but lies.”</p> - -<p>“Let us organise against them. That is the only -way to defeat their lies,” said Countess Batthyany, -“it was with that intent that I asked you to come.”</p> - -<p>“You are thinking of the women?”</p> - -<p>“Yes....”</p> - -<p>“I have thought of them too,” I said. “There are -several of us who think the same. We must find -some common-place programme to hide our real -purpose: women alone can rebuild the lost faith.”</p> - -<p>“Work out the programme and take the leadership -of the movement.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to be anything but a common -soldier,” I answered; “I am only an author and -know nothing of these things.”</p> - -<p>“For all that you will have to do it. Your lead -will be followed. I want to work too.”</p> - -<p>I shook my head. I was ready to do anything, but -did not feel the vocation for leadership.</p> - -<p>“We will try too,” said Count Batthyany. -“Somehow we must succeed in getting rid of this -crowd.”</p> - -<p>“We will talk it all over,” said his mother.</p> - -<p>So she is with us too, I pondered when leaving. -She, the aunt of both Count Michael and Countess -Károlyi! How many of us felt the same thing! It -seemed to be floating in the air, and waiting for -someone among us to put it into words.</p> - -<p>The street had changed while I had been in the -house. No lamps were burning, the trams were not -running, and the snow was falling heavily. Had a -strike broken out suddenly? Was the supply of coal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -exhausted? Or was it because of Heltai’s sailors?</p> - -<p>The little side-streets gaped dismally in the dark. -A ramshackle cab trotted through the snow.</p> - -<p>“How much to Stonemason Street?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Sixty crowns,” the driver answered from his -seat.</p> - -<p>“Not so long ago it would have been two -crowns....”</p> - -<p>He drove on, cursing me, and I went on, ploughing -my way through the snow. There was an uncanny -silence about the place. Out in the country the -silence of the woods and meadows is that of rest, -while here in town silence seems to be the preliminary -of some hidden attack. That was what it felt like -now. Against my will I was looking behind me all -the time, and I hurried as fast as I could across the -entrances of the alleys.</p> - -<p>The bright, clean streets, policemen, protection, -security of the past—where have they all gone?</p> - -<p>Civilisation was only a scaffolding which was -covered with paper posters so that we should not see -that there was no building behind it, and it has -collapsed at a single blow. It is a wreck, and wolves -prowl over the abandoned ground. The town has -slipped suddenly back to the times when nobody who -started on an errand at night knew if he would ever -see home again.</p> - -<p>At the next corner a cab turned out into the boulevard -and I felt a little safer. But I did not enjoy the -sight of the cab for very long. Two soldiers -emerged from a doorway and ran after it, shouting -loudly. The driver made signs that he had passengers, -but stopped out of fear that they might -shoot him. The soldiers didn’t trouble to discuss -the matter, but simply opened the door of the cab, -kicked the passenger out of it, and took his place. -The cab, as if driving into a white veil, disappeared -rapidly in the falling snow. The street became -lonely and quiet. Only the snow glittered, and even -as the flakes drifted into my face I decided that after -all in these days it was wiser to walk....</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>November 27th.</i></p> - -<p>After all this humiliation, shameful submission and -silence entire districts of the country are raising -their voices in protest.</p> - -<p>The Széklers in Transylvania have risen; the flag -of the Székler’s corps has been unfurled, and Count -Stephen Bethlen has organised a Székler National -Council. Transylvania is graven on his heart and he -has remained faithful to himself. He has -always sacrificed everything to the good of the -country. It is encouraging to hear his name in -these times when everybody thinks only of himself. -And after Transylvania, Upper Hungary raises its -voice, the towns of Zips, Zemplén and our faithful -brethren the Slovaks, whom neither gold nor the lash -will persuade that they belong to the Czechs. The -Bunyevats swear to stick to their fatherland and so -do the Catholic Serbians; and far away in the North -the Ruthenians, Rákoczi’s own folk, that <i>gens -fidelissima et carissima</i>, protest violently—they, who -live precariously in the depths of the Carpathians, on -the road by which the Galician Jews invade us. I -know their poor little villages, pounced upon by the -army of leeches in gabardines, bloodthirsty, insatiable, -on its westward march. That is the road by -which, for decades, the Polish and Russian Jews -have come to us; they cut off their payés, side-locks, -in Kassa, throw off their gabardines in Miskolocz and -become barons and millionaires in Budapest.</p> - -<p>Successive Hungarian Governments have left the -Ruthenians of the frontier undefended against this -invading horde, and yet these pious people have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -remained, for all their poverty, patient and faithful -to us. And now they stand by our side, desperately; -they don’t ask for autonomy, they want no special -privileges, they just want to remain one with us, -because we have never harmed them. Neither the -propaganda of the Ukrainians and Russian Imperialists, -nor the schismatical attempts at their conversion, -nor anything else has had any effect on them. They -are clamouring for Hungarian schools, while a -foreign race speaking in the name of Budapest denies -them their very nationality; and their Bishop, -Andrew Szabó, sends the following message in their -name: “There is no need of a declaration of loyalty -on the part of Hungary’s Ruthenians, because this -people has never faltered.”</p> - -<p>But this does not suit Mr. Jászi, the Minister for -Nationalities. He wants to transform our great -geographical unit into a sort of Eastern Switzerland, -and he has invented a new name, Ruszka-Krajna, -for the green counties of whispering woods, the -ancient part of Hungary inhabited by the Ruthenians.</p> - -<p>There he stands, in the midst of a poisoned town, -the son of Russo-Polish Jews, declaiming, with all -the destructive vigour of his race, separatist theories -against associations made by nature itself, forgetting -that, while in Switzerland the extreme branches of -three races join in a common summit, in Hungary -the peoples’ streams flow into a common basin, the -strength and soul of which must always be the -Hungarian people.</p> - -<p>And while he holds forth, and declares that in a -single moment he is going to efface the history of a -thousand years, these thousand years of Hungarian -history shout from every side in desperate protest. -Széklers, Slovaks, Ruthenians, Germans and Catholic -Serbians clamour like suffering brethren, appealing -to each other over the indifference shown by a -muzzled land. The voices of their anguish come like -a storm down the mountains and join over the Great -Plain under the November sky in a harmony that -knows no discord. And the winds on their myriad -wings carry the sad appeal on and on, and sow it as a -seed for the future from which, one day, we shall -gather a rich harvest of revenge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 28th.</i></p> - -<p>The protests from our outposts have died away -and the tragic ray of light has been swallowed up in -the general gloom. As long as the despoilers of the -nation are in power it will always be like that. The -Government has given millions to the Transylvanian -Roumanians and has supplied them with a profusion -of arms, taken from Hungarian soldiers, while it -leaves the Hungarians and Széklers in sweating -terror, defenceless in the midst of an enemy that -clamours for their lives.</p> - -<p>Károlyi’s Government supports everybody who is -against us. To-day, for instance, while I was on duty -at the railway station, I saw special trains being put -together with feverish haste. Roumanian agitators -are calling together in Gyulafehérvár a Roumanian -National assembly which intends, it is said, to -declare for the separation of many purely Hungarian -counties of Transylvania. And to facilitate the -business the Hungarian Government puts special -trains at the disposal of our enemies! The whole -thing is as though someone were grinning maliciously -over a body writhing in agony.</p> - -<p>There was great activity at the station to-day. -The old refreshment shed of the Red Cross has been -transformed into a refreshment room for returning -soldiers. We who had for many years worked there -with the Red Cross offered our services in vain. -White bread, which we had not seen for a long time, -and sausages, were distributed to the soldiers by -Jewesses who wore neither hat nor cap and looked -unkempt and untidy. They had been sent by the -Social Democratic party, and care for the soldiers -was only a secondary part of their duty: they distributed -handbills and talked propaganda to the returning -men. Notwithstanding our Red Cross and -our papers one of the women came up to us and -asked us to leave the place, as they had been put in -charge of it.</p> - -<p>With my sister and a friend we went back to the -other refreshment room. “We have been kicked -out,” I reported. We were now told that the -Government, after having dismissed those who had -directed the work of the Red Cross during the war,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -had appointed Countess Michael Károlyi to the -head of the Red Cross—as Delegate of the Government. -This position had always been filled gratuitously -by grey-haired noblemen, but now Countess -Károlyi voted herself a salary of eighty thousand -crowns and had it paid out to her for a year in -advance.</p> - -<p>“One of her assistants has already been here,” said -someone belonging to the Red Cross. “She made a -great fuss and declared that Countess Károlyi would -turn out all the ladies who had formerly done the -work.”</p> - -<p>“It will be a noble sight,” I said; “I shall stay -and see it through.”</p> - -<p>At this moment the sergeant with the red ribbon -came in. Two soldiers with fixed bayonets followed -him. They came straight up to me. “We have -found some suspicious leaflets on the platform, -royalist muck....”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything about any leaflets,” I -answered, delighted to hear that some had at last -made their appearance.</p> - -<p>“The scent leads here,” the sergeant said threateningly, -“it is said they are distributed here.”</p> - -<p>“Search me,” I said, and turned out the pockets -of my white apron. But I was too happy to -dissemble: I laughed heartily.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 29th.</i></p> - -<p>I stood in front of the cashier’s little glass cage, -leaning my elbows on the cool marble slab. There -were only a few people coming and going in the big -offices of the bank; a few servant girls sat about with -their deposit-books in their hands.</p> - -<p>“How’s business in these days?” I asked the -cashier as he pushed my money over the counter.</p> - -<p>“We have never been like this before. War-time -was a perfect golden age in comparison.” He leant -toward me and spoke in a whisper. “The Jews are -exploiting the country and the Government shamelessly. -The salary of a minister used to be twelve -thousand crowns. The ministers of the popular -Government have allotted themselves two hundred -thousand and have had it paid out for a year in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -advance. For overtime, they take one hundred and -sixty crowns an hour. The number of Ministers and -Government delegates increases every day. There -are forty Secretaries of State running about -Budapest. Every radical journalist wants to be at -least a Secretary of State. Treasury notes are -printed as fast as posters. It is said that the popular -Government has spent three milliards in a month—twice -as much as the most expensive month of the -war. This peace is an expensive thing, and one can’t -say that the republic is exactly cheap. We are racing -towards bankruptcy. Many people are taking their -money to Switzerland....”</p> - -<p>“What I possess shall remain here. If the country -is ruined, we Hungarians will be ruined with it, at -any rate.”</p> - -<p>“It is wise to take precautions however,” the -cashier said. “It is rumoured that all gold and -silver is to be commandeered.”</p> - -<p>On my way home his last words kept coming to -my mind. Among our old family papers there is a -little scrap of a document dated 1848, addressed to -my grandfather, Charles Tormay; it is a receipt for -the silver he had delivered to the mint to cover the -issue of Kossuth’s banknotes. My father once told -me how on a certain day all the silver was heaped up -on the dining-room table. He was a little boy at the -time, and asked how he would be able to stir the -sugar in his coffee if all the spoons were taken away? -“With a wooden spoon,” his mother said. My father -could not bear the idea of that, so he hung about the -silver till he managed to steal a little spoon. Everything -else was melted down, and that little spoon is -the only thing that remains of our old family silver.</p> - -<p>They gave it, and we would give it, but not to this -crowd. I wouldn’t eat with a wooden spoon for the -sake of the entire government.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>November 30th.</i></p> - -<p>A yellow fog has descended on the town. The -houses have disappeared in it, and the rooms are dark, -as if the windows were covered outside with mud-coloured -blinds. Though it is forenoon, the lamps -are burning in the houses, as if a corpse were laid out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -in every room in the town. I never saw a fog like -this. It looks the very picture of our lives.</p> - -<p>Fog ... clinging, dense fog. People choke as -they walk, in an accursed land; they slip about in -the sticky, heavy mud, and can neither halt nor run. -A doomed city is our prison. The hearths are cold, -we have no light, and all the doors are shut. Streets -end in darkness, and at the street corners cold blasts -strike one, coming no one knows whence. One cannot -escape it. One has to go on, under dark windows, -through the fog, across deadly alleys. Nobody looks -out of the houses, and there is no sign of life about. -The air seems to be a sloppy glue closing suddenly -over one’s mouth like a horrible, gigantic hand, and -stopping one’s breath. We shudder with discomfort -and misery, and if we try to lay hold of something -solid, the walls recede before our groping hands, and -the doors move like ghosts. They are not locked, -just ajar, and they open noiselessly inward. Behind -them somebody stands and waits, waits with open -eyes in the dark, conscious of some awful news impending: -Hungary has lost something again.... -In the next street, in all the streets about us, red -ferocious beasts are lurking with soft noiseless steps, -ready to pounce....</p> - -<p>That is our present life. Fog, yellow, clinging fog, -in which the town, with all its streets and houses, -glides on mud towards a bottomless abyss.</p> - -<p>Day by day more cockades of the national colours -disappear from the soldiers’ caps, and as each one -disappears it leaves a wound: a spot of blood ... -red buttons take their place. In one of the main -streets yesterday a red flag was displayed on a house. -In the northern suburbs communists meet in shady -little inns, and in the streets foreign-looking men -harangue chance crowds from dust-bins or the tops -of hand-carts. With sweeping gestures they declare: -“Everything is yours! Take everything!”</p> - -<p>These words are all over the town to-day, and -Károlyi’s Government says it all the time, in every -one of its declarations: “Everything is yours!” It -says it to socialists, communists, radicals, Czechs, -Roumanians, Serbians....</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus26" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus26.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">A COMMUNIST ORATOR.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_176"><i>To face p. 176.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>Having begun with the Roumanians, Jászi now -takes counsel with the Slovaks; and while the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -Czechs’ troops descend, unhindered, into the valley -of the Vág, and occupy town after town, the precious -springs of Pöstyén among others, Jászi, Diener-Dénes -and a fellow called Braun hand over to them -our thousand-year-old rights. Jászi has already -presented them with five Hungarian counties and -offers a common administration for ten more. He -bargains, humbles himself, and libels our rule of a -thousand years. And even while he was shamefully -giving up everything, and stupidly betraying the -Government’s hopeless inability to act, it turns out -that the whole of the negotiations were nothing but -a trap. After having surveyed the situation here, -Prag has informed Budapest officially: “No negotiations -whatever with the Hungarian Government -have been authorised by the Czecho-Slovak -Republic....”</p> - -<p>Such are our rulers. They sell us over and over -again every day. What I was told in whispers is -now admitted by the Government itself, because -Vlad, the leader of the Roumanian guards in Transylvania, -has given the show away. To display his -strength and power, he told the unfortunate Hungarian -inhabitants of Transylvania: “The Roumanian -guards have received from the Hungarian Government -ten million crowns and fifty-five thousand -infantry equipments.” Now even the deaf can hear -what the Government does with the arms it has -filched from our soldiers, who, notwithstanding their -disbandment, were anxious to defend the soil of their -country. It gives the arms of Hungarian soldiers to -Roumanians, while it collects the weapons of -Hungarian citizens for the benefit of ruffians, -escaped convicts and vagabond deserters.</p> - -<p>The eternally harassing question: what is going -on? has ceased to worry me. Now I know that everything -that happens is barefaced treason, unlike any -thing that has ever happened in my people’s history. -The clauses of a secret red treaty dictate every purpose, -every action, and its stipulations influence -everything that has happened in Hungary since the -31st of October.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 1st.</i></p> - -<p>Once upon a time December meant something<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -lovely, glittering, cold, white, and the warmth of -bright fires. Now its whiteness is death, its cold is -torture, and everywhere the fires are out.</p> - -<p>The cold at night is awful. Its breath penetrates -into the rooms, and terrifies one. When the maid -told us this morning that there was no coal left in -the cellar, I could not believe her. I took a candle -and went down the winding staircase into the dark. -The coal dust crackled under my feet and the light -of the candle flickered to and fro on the cobwebbed -wall. The cellar was empty; only a few logs of wood -were lying in a corner. It was some time before I -realised what that emptiness meant. I did not move, -but just stood rooted to the spot while my breath -steamed in the candle-light.</p> - -<p>We had received our coal-permit eight months -before, and were sent by the coal-office to a big coal -merchant. Week after week passed and we got no -coal. I wrote, sent messages, went myself at last. -On the stairs of the building misery and cold were -thronging patiently, and sad-looking people were -loafing about in the office. I had to wait as though -in the ante-room of a minister. Now and then the -lady secretary called one of us by name. Jewesses -in fur coats and with diamond earrings were standing -behind me and laughing among themselves. They -had come after me, yet they were admitted before -me. Beside me a poor woman in a shawl was waiting -and a gentleman in a shabby coat which had seen -better days. The woman complained quietly: for -days she had been unable to cook because she had no -fuel. The gentleman, a judge in a high position, -said that his children could not get out of bed, but -had remained there for over a week, because their -rooms were so cold.</p> - -<p>We waited patiently for hours. Noon passed. -The secretary looked at her watch and said aggressively: -“Too late, come to-morrow!”</p> - -<p>“But here is my coal-permit! I got it in April.” -The spirit of rebellion rose in me. I felt for the -others too, for all of us who waited there, -Hungarians, who no longer had any voice in anything.</p> - -<p>The coal merchant, the secretary, both were Jews. -These people have usurped every office and they put<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -off from one day to another what is due to us, or -throw it at our heads as if it were a charity. To-morrow! -With clenched fists I went the next day, -and the day after.... Patient women, weeping old -grannies, pushing, angry men. The coal merchant -crossed the ante-room quickly, and imploring -voices tried to catch his attention. But he answered -back like a dictator deciding a question of grace: -“Wait your turn!”</p> - -<p>Again I went, and befurred and bejewelled women -came down as I went up, gloating over their success. -I heard what they said—<i>they</i> had got what they -wanted; and everywhere it is the same. With the -impotence of a subdued race we go away empty-handed, -and there is no place where we can assert -our rights. They have the power, and they laugh in -our faces.</p> - -<p>And the coal in our cellar has been used up and -we live in unwarmed rooms.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 2nd.</i></p> - -<p>The morning was still dark when the ringing of a -bell broke in upon my dreams. It worried me, -floated over my head like the buzzing of a bluebottle, -stopped, and started again. I woke.</p> - -<p>It was the telephone in the ante-room.</p> - -<p>“The farmer? Oh yes, near our villa! Last -night burglars entered the villa ... my sister’s -too! I understand....”</p> - -<p>At the police station I received but cold comfort.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what good it can do to take your -complaints down,” said a little man who seemed to -be a clerk. “Last night sixteen villas were pillaged -on one hill alone. As for the town, God alone knows -how many houses and shops have been visited by -burglars. We can’t go into such matters. Where -could we find enough detectives, when those we have -already have other irons in the fire?”</p> - -<p>“They are searching for counter-revolutionists,” -said a gentleman, whose flat had been burgled last -night too. “Robbery is free in this country nowadays.”</p> - -<p>I was sent from the ground-floor to the second, -and thence to the ground-floor again. I wandered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -through stuffy corridors from one untidy office, -smelling of ink, to another, and at last I was -promised that inquiries would be made.</p> - -<p>Here too everything had changed. New men -had replaced the old Hungarian officials in the -police-force. They had got this into their hands too.</p> - -<p>The north wind blew sharply across the bridge, -bringing a promise of snow. Like giants’ brides, the -white hills of Buda stood up against the cold wintry -sky, and on them the bare trees cast shadows like -blue veins over the sunlit snow. Everything -glittered. For a moment the beauty of it thrust the -town, the trouble, and the burgled house into the -background. On the way I met my sister Mary. -She too was coming from the police station and had -two constables with her. The crown had been -removed from the cap of one of them, the other still -wore it.</p> - -<p>“So you have not taken it off?” said I.</p> - -<p>“Kings may come and kings may go, but the holy -crown will remain in its place,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“Are you very busy?” I asked, to change the -subject.</p> - -<p>“It would not do for things to remain as they -are.”</p> - -<p>“After all, it was the adherence of the police that -settled the matter,” I retorted.</p> - -<p>The two men looked at each other, but said -nothing. Meanwhile we reached the house. The -snow on the roof glittered against the blue sky. On -the ground there were footmarks in the snow, which -led to the terrace. It was obvious that the burglars -had climbed the creepers on the wall and had -entered the house in that way. In nearly every room -a kitchen-knife was lying on the table with its handle -standing out beyond the edge, so as to be -easy to catch hold of, had the intruders been disturbed. -In the hall a lot of things were tied up in a -bundle.</p> - -<p>“They intended to come back,” said one of the -policemen.</p> - -<p>The cupboards were open, and a lot of things had -been taken away, while the floor was littered with -things they had rejected when they were making -their choice. The red, white and green flag was torn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -from its staff and bore the marks of heavy, muddy -boots. The big Bible, as if shot through the heart, -had a bullet hole through it.</p> - -<p>“There are clues enough for me,” I said to my -sister. “I have already found the culprits: the products -of the revolution have been visiting us.”</p> - -<p>The constables looked at each other.</p> - -<p>When I got home I told my mother what had -happened. She listened to me with a stern face, in -silence.</p> - -<p>“They carried away whatever they could. They -even stripped the mattresses. They scribbled filth -on the walls.”</p> - -<p>“These times levy toll on everybody,” said she. -“What about those who are driven from their -homes, whose houses are burnt down, who are -murdered? If only fate will be satisfied with this -and ask no more from us, if this is all we have to -pay, we shall have no reason to complain.” And she -did not mention the matter again.</p> - -<p>The evening papers were brought in. One name -dominated them all: Gyulafehérvár.... In the -town where John Hunyádi, the Hungarian paladin -of Christendom against the Turks, lies buried, over -his grave, on the field at the foot of the castle, the -Roumanian Irredenta under the name of “Roumanian -National Council” has carried a resolution: “Transylvania, -the Banat and all the territories of Hungary -inhabited by Roumanians are united with Roumania!”... -This happened in Gyulafehérvár, and Károlyi’s -Government sent the Roumanians by special train to -this assembly of treason! He even armed a bodyguard -for them, and has given them millions!</p> - -<p>Once more life seems like the dream of a demented -brain. “Everything is yours,” says the Government, -so that it may take what the robbers cannot -carry off. They share and share alike, and what care -they that in making their division they break our -hearts? The Hungarian population of Transylvania, -abandoned, humiliated, betrayed, must tolerate that -its ancient land should be thrown by Budapest to an -uneducated, newly-risen Balkan state, whose shepherd -folk, fleeing from the cruelty of its own princes, -came to Hungary asking for hospitality, a few -hundred years ago. The Széklers have lived for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -fifteen hundred years in Transylvania, and the semi-barbarous -Roumanian people now laugh in the face -of the original inhabitants, and by right of robbery -declare that what was always ours is now their own.</p> - -<p>The street is quiet. The town listens with a stony -heart. The stars alone tremble above the roofs as -if a great sob rose to them <i>de profundis</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 3rd.</i></p> - -<p>I went to Buda, to the Castle Hill. We had a -meeting at five at Count Zichy’s palace.</p> - -<p>This house was built in the eighteenth century and -is one of Buda’s finest palaces. Maria Theresa, -powdered and bewigged, once lived here, and her -presence still seems to linger about the walls. The -stone staircase rises loftily to the hall on the first -floor, whose low, decorated roof is supported by white -pillars. On the white walls glittered the gilt frames -of old pictures.</p> - -<p>The lamp had not yet been lit, but a fire was -burning in the wide marble fireplace and shed its -light around from below. It shone back from the -beauty of ancient bronzes, ran over the walls, and -under its flickering touch far-off Chinese springtimes -came to life on the old porcelain, and then melted -again into the gloom, suddenly, as the flicker passed -by. The tall furniture stood haughty and clumsy, -conscious of the fact that it had always been there.</p> - -<p>When the lamp was lit others came in, shivering, -and we all gathered round the fire like conspirators, -for we all suffered the same pangs, we all wanted the -same thing. We knew that the hour had come, that -we had to call out the women from behind their -locked doors. In the history of Hungary women have -not often appeared. They have never had to fight -for their rights, because there is no code in the world -which protects the rights of woman so well as ours -did—even in the darker centuries. They could live -quietly in those days, and the handsome narrow -faces of Hungarian women shone only in the mild -light of the home fire. Those were Hungary’s happy -days. But when the land was afire and misery was -reaping its harvest, then the Hungarian women rose -to the occasion and stood in the fore-front of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -fight. Our country has never suffered greater distress -than now, and, as we sat there, we all knew that the -women would respond to our call and would sow the -seed of the counter-revolution. Not at meetings, not -in the market-place, but in their homes, in the souls -of their men exhausted by the hardships of war, men -who are down-hearted to-day but who, to-morrow, -will not dare to give the lie to the women who believe -in their courage....</p> - -<p>I read the draft of the programme in which, hidden -among social and political reforms, I had attempted -to sum up the vital needs of the whole womanhood -of Christian Hungary.</p> - -<p>“Let us set forth clearly what we want,” said -Countess Raphael Zichy. All agreed, and at the head -of the programme we stated, clearly and tersely, the -Holy Trinity for which we meant to stand: a -Christian and patriotic policy, the integrity of the -country, and the sanctity of the family.</p> - -<p>“I do not doubt the result,” said Prince -Hohenlohe; “I have done much organising in Transylvania, -and I know what women can do.”</p> - -<p>When we left and dispersed in the quiet streets of -Buda, I felt that I had entered on a new path, -which might become my path of destiny.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 4th to 7th.</i></p> - -<p>Henceforth life took on a new aspect. I shook off -the paralysis of despair which had made me a passive -sufferer of events. Till now, like a cripple deprived -of the power of movement, I had brooded deeply -over everything that came within my ken, but at last -I had become an actor in deadly earnest in the -tragedy, and I could waste no more time over details.</p> - -<p>The day after the meeting in the Zichy Palace I -wrote letters, telephoned and called to my side a few -brave, energetic women. We had no time to waste, -and we decided that each of my guests should invite -to her own home her reliable women friends, and -that we should address them, so that they in their -turn might spread the idea of the organisation of -Christian Hungarian women. There was no other -solution, for the Press had ceased to be free. The -few Christian and middle-class papers which would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -otherwise have been at our disposal had begun to be -terrorised by red soldiers. Our ideals had been condemned -to death by the Social Democrats; they had -declared war against patriotism and Christianity. -As for the integrity of Hungary’s soil, they had -declared in their official paper that it was no business -of theirs....</p> - -<p>We had perforce to return to the primitive means -of olden times. The idea was spread by word of -mouth, and we separated so as to be able to do more -work. Emma Ritoók visited one end of the town -and I the other. Like the primitive Christians, -women gathered now here, now there. I visited -dingy lodgings, baronial halls, schoolrooms; through -dark streets, in the gloom of hostile alleys, I walked -in snow and wind day after day. Women understood -me, and their souls glowed with courage and -decision in these sad times of exhaustion and resignation. -With very few exceptions they signed my -lists, those who did not had been forbidden to do so -by their husbands. Never once did I find among -them the cry of resignation “It is all over, effort is -useless.” I respected them and was grateful to -them, for they were simple, great and faithful. And -while I thought of them in my wanderings from one -modest home to another, and tormented myself -about the misfortunes of our country, one scene for -ever kept passing before my eyes. Though the snow -was falling and it was dark I could see an eastern -city under a burning sky; a house with pillars, the -house of Pilate, and in the hall stood Our Lord in -bonds. In front of the house a crowd, mad with -hatred, clamoured: “Crucify Him, Crucify Him!”</p> - -<p>That is what they are shouting against our fettered -country to-day. They drag it down among themselves, -put a crown of thorns upon its head, smite it -and spit upon it. They load it with a heavy cross -and drive it unto the place called Golgotha. They -nail it to the cross, so that it shall be able to see -with its dying, bloodshot eyes, how they cast lots for -its vesture at its feet. Then they put it into a -sepulchre and roll a great stone before it, sealing the -stone and setting a watch so that it shall not be able -to rise....</p> - -<p>His disciples and followers hid in despair and left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span> -His grave alone—they had no more hope. But on -the third day, very early in the morning, women -went through the blue dawn to His grave. It was -women who saw His resurrection.... The memory -of that beautiful, sacred vision must have remained -in their eyes. For thousands of years it has always -been women who have seen resurrection on earth.</p> - -<p>Now, too, they see it, or would they follow me?</p> - -<p>I did not want to be their leader, but the idea -wanted it and ordained that I should be its apostle. -When I was tired, when I felt down-hearted and -doubt assailed me, whenever I felt unworthy of the -call, I always remembered that the love for one’s -country and people which is put into one’s soul is -the measure of what one is able to achieve. It will -succeed, it must succeed; and my voice, broken with -much speaking, recovered before another meeting at -the other end of the town, and women who had heard -me already ran in front of me in the street, so that -when I reached the new meeting they were waiting -for me there, and listened to me again.</p> - -<p>Late at night, dead tired, I struggle home, and flee -to my mother for rest. We sit for a long time in the -little green room, and she encourages me if I am -weary, and she always finds the word that heals. -Then, late, we go to sleep. The evening is long and -gives me rest. I speak of my wanderings—and what -I had felt dimly, as if in a haze, while my fatigue -lasted, revives with imperative insistence, and I can -think of nothing else.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To-day a new misfortune has overtaken Hungary. -The French Colonel Vyx, who has lately come to -Budapest as head of the Entente’s military mission, -has sent a memorandum to the Hungarian Government, -which contains the price of the Czechs’ high-treason. -The victorious Powers claim from Hungary -the evacuation of all Upper Hungary, because they -recognise the sovereignty of the Czecho-Slovak State -and consider its army as an allied army....</p> - -<p>I could hardly stop myself from trembling: a wave -of utter sorrow and degradation passed over me. The -heralds of right and justice, the new saviours of the -world, regardless of the conditions of the armistice,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> -simply order us to deliver up our country’s great outpost, -the Carpathians and eighteen of our most lovely -counties, to those who never owned them, who are -called the “allies” of the Entente although for many -years they had been the main support of Austria’s -power, and its chief executioners. We Hungarians -could tell a tale about that. After our war of liberation, -they, as the secret agents of Austrian -absolutism, <i>agents provocateurs</i>, and hangmen -plenipotentiary, tortured Hungary’s people more -cruelly than any conqueror has ever done. And -Venice and Lombardy could tell a tale too. There -the memory of imperial torturers, “<i>gli sbirre -austriaci</i>,” still haunts the country, and most of -those were Czechs. It is they who are responsible -for the turn things have taken, and yet, as allied -forces of the Allies, they now participate in the -execution of the armistice which directs the occupation -of the old Monarchy’s territory!</p> - -<p>At the beginning of November fifteen complete -Hungarian divisions came back from the front. If -they were still here....</p> - -<p>I was horrified and looked at my mother. She was -thinking of the same things as I did. And like people -who, sitting up with one whom they love and who -is dangerously ill, try to strengthen their faith in his -recovery by speaking of times when the patient was -strong and healthy, we two began to talk, in our -vigil of olden times, of lovely summers in the distant -highlands. When we were still children our parents -wanted us to get to know every part of our country, -and every holiday they found a cosy little nest for us -in some different county. Summers in the -Carpathians; charming little spas, villages in the -forest, quiet, secluded little towns among the mountains.... -The green fields of the Mátra ... the -Pressburg of Maria Theresa ... the towns of the -Zips, and Kassa with its ancient cathedral ... the -High Tátra reaching into the clouds ... the -wilderness of Bereg ... the forests of Marmaros ... -and the heaving waters of the Tisza.... Past -lovely summers—past with Hungary’s soul.</p> - -<p>But we shall take it back!... And next day I -was up again and carried the word to the women and -poured my faith into their hearts.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus27" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus27.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">THE VALLEY OF THE GARAM<br /> - <span class="smaller">(GIVEN TO CZECHO-SLOVAKIA BY THE TREATY OF TRIANON).</span></p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_156"><i>To face p. 156.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span></p> - -<p>The streets and squares are now darker than ever. -A new order has been published that shops are to be -closed at five, and so the shop-windows are dark after -that hour. I passed in front of a Kinematograph, -where big coloured posters near the entrance “featured” -Tisza’s death. An actor was made up as Tisza, -and an actress represented Countess Tisza: Denise -Almássy too was impersonated. The manager had had -the reel staged on the authentic spot of the murder. -Did he get the murderers to play their own parts, -I wonder?</p> - -<p>As I passed, I listened with disgust to the remarks -exchanged by people coming out from the performance. -All Pest is whispering about a sailor who -boasts everywhere that it was he who killed Tisza. -It is also said that Countess Almássy, while dining -at the Hotel Ritz, recognised with horror one of -Tisza’s murderers. She asked, “Who is that man?” -And somebody answered: “The President of the -Soldiers’ Council, Joseph Pogány.” But it was only -an invention, for Denise Almássy has never been in -town since the murder. All sorts of rumours get -about. It is said that at the War Office the Government -has paid out hundreds of thousands of crowns -to suspicious individuals who have rendered great -service to the revolution. The members of the first -Soldiers’ Council have received considerable -amounts, nobody knows why. But Károlyi probably -knows, and if he cared to look into matters he might -find Tisza’s murderers among them.</p> - -<p>We live in a quagmire and around us Bolshevism -is organising more openly every day.</p> - -<p>I went home along the banks of the Danube. A -small lighter towed a long raft down stream. A man -sat on the stairs of the embankment, and his head was -bowed between drawn-up knees. A child passed me, -its bare feet wrapped in bits of old carpet and the ends -of the strings with which they were tied up dragged -behind him in the mud. The shops were already -closed and the streets were in darkness. At the -edge of the footpath a queer little figure was alternately -stooping and standing up. As I got nearer I -saw that it was an old woman, clothed in an old-fashioned -cloak of beadwork and with a shabby -bonnet on her head, who was searching among the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -garbage in the dust bins that stood by the side of the -street. A little basket hung on her arm, and she was -collecting putrid bits of food.</p> - -<p>This town is haunted by strange sounds. Foreign -money rings, banknotes rustle, and one cannot see -who gives or takes. But the recipient sells his -services for the foreign money and then whispers -something broadcast in the streets. The cloaked -woman among the garbage boxes, the despairing -man on the stairs, and the child whose feet protrude -naked from scraps of carpet, they all hear it.</p> - -<p>A crowd gathers, no one knows whence, and -soldiers and sailors appear. Suddenly someone -jumps up on a box and begins to make a speech.</p> - -<p>“It is all the fault of the gentle-folk, the counts, -the priests and the bourgeois! They ought to be -knocked on the head, every one of them!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>December 8th.</i></p> - -<p>My way took me through the garden of the old -Polytechnic. The place was black with people. In -the great hall of the ‘Stork’s Fort’ Széklers and -Transylvanian Hungarians were gathered together. -The streets poured forth their masses: the crush up -there must have been awful. I stopped against the -railings and looked at the passers-by, excited officers, -Székler soldiers, sad, care-worn people—homeless, -every one of them. All their faces were of the -Hungarian type. These are the people of whom the -radical press of Budapest writes that they ought to -be expelled, because there is a scarcity of lodgings!</p> - -<p>Would these papers dare to write such a thing of, -say, Englishmen, Frenchmen or Italians? Can it -be imagined that we should expel from their own -capital these unfortunate people, while foreign -refugees, who could have returned home long ago, -have filled the houses? In the first year of the war -caravans of Galician Jews clad in gabardines fled -before the Russian invasion. They were Austrian -citizens, but the Hungarian capital received them -nevertheless. They stayed on and have enriched -themselves. And now, when homeless Hungarians -are coming back, the Budapest press of the -Hungarian Government shows them the door.</p> - -<p>A big crowd of men came towards the garden, good -looking, shabbily dressed gentlemen, who might have -been officials who had refused to take the oath of -allegiance to the invading Roumanians or Czechs. -They reminded me of a declaration of the socialist -Minister for Public Welfare, Kunfi: “As we are -going to be a smaller country, we shall not be able<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -to support the many officials of old Hungary. These -will have to seek their living in America.” We have -come to this! The radical press of the immigrants -advocates the expulsion of the Hungarian refugees, -and the Minister of Public Welfare advises the native -Hungarian intellectuals to emigrate!</p> - -<p>So there is no more room for us in our own country?</p> - -<p>It is a wicked, devilish game. Words are used as -keys to open the dark underground passages which -undermine our country. The War Minister of -Károlyi’s Government says to the Hungarian army -“I never want to see a soldier again.” The Minister -for Nationalities ruins our fellow nationals and hands -them over to the yoke of foreigners. The Minister -of Finance says: “I don’t want to see a rich man; -I shall impose such taxes in Hungary as the history -of the world has never known.” The Prime Minister -declares that whoever invades Hungary, we shall -appeal to the judgment of the civilised world, but -we won’t draw sword against the invader.</p> - -<p>Just then some Transylvanian undergraduates -dragged a little cart into the middle of the garden. -A Transylvanian soldier was standing on it and he -shouted out what had been discussed up in the hall.</p> - -<p>“We will rise to arms. We swear it by our -freedom, fifteen hundred years old!”</p> - -<p>An officer swore in the name of the Székler commando: -“Our bodies and our souls for the Széklers’ -Independence.”</p> - -<p>“We have had enough war!” shouted a Budapest -pacificist. He was expelled noisily from the place. -Angry cries followed him down the stairs, and then -a thousand voices shouted the curse: “May God forsake -him who does not help the Széklers in their -struggle!”</p> - -<p>I raised my head. It seemed to me that at last -the town of silently suffering Hungarians had regained -her voice, that the Széklers had given it back -to her; and the cheers, rising, gigantic, in the garden, -spread over the streets like a great, solemn oath.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 9th-11th.</i></p> - -<p>A black tablet has been hung under the glass roof -of the railway station upon which the names of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -towns have been written with chalk: Ruttka, Kassa, -Körösmezö, Kolozsvár, Arad, Orsova, Szeged-Rókus, -Pécs, Esszék. There are no more trains for these -from Budapest. Passengers wait in vain. No more -trains will come from the capital of Hungary. The -nerves are severed, the arteries are cut, life-blood is -oozing slowly out of them. Communication has -ceased; tracks are covered with snow and the signal -lamps are extinguished. Silence reigns in the distant -little stations, the silence of a shudder. Who knows -what may happen before the connection is renewed? -Foreign rule occupies our towns, it spreads further -and further, always nearer to the centre....</p> - -<p>And as each day passes, here in the isolated heart -of the country everything is getting more and more -antagonistic, dividing even those who have the power -in their hands. The proposed law of land reform -has lit a fire which shows up both extremes. Even -in Károlyi’s party there is a split. The radicals and -socialists go hand in hand, and the Hungarians, notwithstanding -their miserable position, are opposed to -them.</p> - -<p>It is said that the Government is tottering. By -means of the Soldiers’ and Workers’ Council the -power of the Socialists is increasing daily and they -now claim the portfolios of War and of the Interior -for themselves. Two Jews are their candidates. -They accuse Batthyány of reaction and attack the -Minister of War because he opposes the Soldiers’ -Council system, desires to diminish the socialist local -guards, and recruits peasant guards in the country. -They accuse him of supporting royalist movements -and of forming officers’ corps and emergency detachments.</p> - -<p>The Counter-revolutionists!</p> - -<p>This word is now beginning to raise its head in -determination to break down any patriotic attempt, -to stand in the way of every honest endeavour. We -have reached the stage when it is counter-revolution -to complain of the foreign occupations, to speak of -the integrity or defence of the country’s territory, or -to say: “Let us work that we may not starve.”</p> - -<p>The so-called unemployed are more powerful than -those who work, and they are many. Their leader -is Béla Kún, and they have plenty of money.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -Shirking work is one of the best means to-day of -earning one’s bread and it is powerfully supported -by a Government which distributes millions under -the name of unemployment doles, while nobody will -sweep the streets; snow and dirt grow in piles, and -the garbage rots in the doorways.</p> - -<p>It happened yesterday that, after infinite pains, -I managed to obtain, at a fabulous price, a few sacks -of coal. The carter who brought it threw it down in -front of the cellar-trap. When I asked him to shovel -it in he swore vilely because it was getting dark and -he was not disposed to do it. He left it there, in -spite of any tip I could offer him. And so, with the -help of the little German maid, we had to do it ourselves.</p> - -<p>The other day I saw an officer dragging home a -cart of firewood. My sister brought potatoes home -in a Gladstone bag because nobody would carry -them for her at any price. The garbage of the -capital has been removed during the last few days -by some officials from the town hall; no carter would -do the job, and so these officials thought it would not -be out of the way to ‘earn,’ besides their official -pay of ten to twenty crowns a day, an extra one -hundred and thirty crowns per diem.</p> - -<p>While this sort of thing is going on there is a huge -crowd in front of the office which pays out the unemployment -dole. Lusty young men and ne’er-do-weel -domestic servants ‘spoon’ in the crowded, -disorderly queue. They get fifteen crowns daily, but -are not satisfied and demand thirty. The agitators -go even further and say persistently: “Everything -is yours.” Nothing but hatred or indifference is left -now in the minds of the people.</p> - -<p>I went to a funeral this afternoon. We buried a -young woman, a victim of the epidemic. We couldn’t -find a cab to take us to the cemetery, so we all walked. -The priest was late, as he too was unable to find a -cab. The large, cold garden of the dead was getting -dark among the black cypresses when the coffin was -lowered into the grave. The grave-diggers had -waited a long time, and they became impatient and -grumbled furiously. We heard coarse words. One -of them looked at his watch. “It’s too late,” he -said, “we’ll leave it till to-morrow.” So they stuck<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -their spades into the mound of earth, took their hats -and left. Down in the open grave lay the coffin, and -the dismayed silence was broken by the fall of little -clods of earth upon it. We looked at each other -helplessly; nobody dared to speak.</p> - -<p>“I won’t leave her like this,” said the widower, -and taking the spade in his shaking hands he covered -with earth the most precious thing that life had given -him. The lumps of earth showered noisily down on -to the coffin. For a moment we stood overawed, the -whole thing seemed so terrible, then we bent down -and helped with our naked hands.</p> - -<p>And in the dark a heart-breaking sob raised a -human protest against all inhumanity....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 12th.</i></p> - -<p>A big red flag appeared in the streets this morning -and went slowly towards the Danube under a gray, -smoky sky. Street urchins ran beside it; the rabble -rushed on like dust before the wind. The people in -the street hugged the walls of the houses and again -the flag came in sight, approaching unsteadily, -followed by soldiers, at whose head an officer rode, -with drawn sword. His face struck me as if I had -been hit across the eyes by a twig. His ears projected -from both sides under the officer’s cap, and his lips -formed a fleshy arc.</p> - -<p>The face of the leader—the face of the people and -of the army. The face of the soldiers of our war of -liberation in 1848 was the face of Görgei, of Kossuth, -of Petöfi. The face of Hungary of the Great War was -the sad, resolute face of Stephen Tisza. The face -of the October revolution was Michael Károlyi.... -And the face of this detachment with the red flag -was the officer heading it.</p> - -<p>Behind him the infantry came in irregular formation, -many of the soldiers smoking. Guns rumbled -after them; two gunners sat jolting on one of the -guns, red ribbons floating from their caps. They -were smoking too.... The crowd went on. A -battery of field artillery followed, and Hussars rode -at the end. One trooper signalled to a lady friend of -his who was passing, stopped his horse and had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> -nice, comfortable chat with her from the saddle, then -he galloped after the rest.</p> - -<p>Somebody said: “The whole garrison is here! -They are going to Buda.” “What for?” Nobody -knew. Meanwhile the red flag was climbing up the -hillside towards the royal castle.</p> - -<p>The city and the other quarters of the town knew -nothing of this procession. Nobody troubled about -it. The citizens of Budapest were apathetic and indifferent, -and thought no more about it than did the -bridge which suffered the procession to cross it. Men -continued to live their precarious lives and everything -seemed to be the same as yesterday, but in the afternoon -came the news that this garrison had caused -the downfall of the War Minister! The Soldiers’ -Council and Joseph Pogány had ousted Albert Bartha.</p> - -<p>It happened in the castle, on St. George’s Square. -I heard of it from an eye-witness. The infantry stood -in a row, with machine-guns and the artillery -behind them. And while threats against Bartha -were shouted, the malicious face of Joseph Pogány-Schwarz -appeared in one of the windows of the -building occupied by the Soldiers’ Council. The -officers on horseback saw him and shouted his name -and cheered him. Then the demonstrators cheered -Károlyi. Meanwhile a delegation of the garrison’s -confidential men, led by Dr. Mór, a reserve officer, -went up to the Prime Minister and presented him -with a paper containing the demands of the garrison.</p> - -<p>Károlyi received the delegation in deadly fear.</p> - -<p>The soldiery down in the square turned their guns -and machine-guns on the War Office.... That is -how they waited for an answer. As a matter of -fact most of the men did not care what happened. -It was the confidential men who told them how to -come here, and what to demand, and accordingly -they came and demanded: “Let Bartha resign and -be replaced by a civilian Minister of War who will -organise a democratic army. The staff-officers must -be dismissed from the War Office, and the proclamation -concerning the Soldiers’ Council and the Confidential -Men, suppressed by Bartha, must be put -into execution at once. All the Minister’s special -officers’ detachments are to be disbanded.” Finally -they demanded that the officers should in future be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -elected by the ranks, and that rankers should be -qualified to become officers.</p> - -<p>In the reception-room of the Prime Minister, -Károlyi addressed the deputation, submitted, promised -everything and—gave up Bartha.</p> - -<p>“I saw with pleasure,” he said, “the many -thousands of soldiers, because it has afforded me the -evidence of my own eyes that the Hungarian Government -is not defenceless, but has a powerful army at -its back.”</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, at that moment the powerful -army was not standing at his back but opposite him; -an army that was good for nothing but to demonstrate -in Budapest, and whose heroism was directed against -his War Office, upon which its guns were trained.</p> - -<p>Then the soldiers marched to the offices of the -Soldiers’ Council and Pogány addressed them in -words full of vainglory:</p> - -<p>“This demonstration has shown that there are -enough soldiers, and that the troops are in the hands -of the confidential men. It has shown,” he shouted -in rapture, “that discipline can be maintained, but -only when it is the troops themselves who maintain -it....”</p> - -<p>“Long live Pogány, the Minister of War ...” -rose the cry under the red flag. And he, red with -the effort of shouting, roared the following threats: -“We won’t allow Budapest’s social-democratic army -to be disbanded, just because it is social-democratic! -We won’t tolerate the formation of independent -peasants’ detachments!”</p> - -<p>“Long live the socialist army! Down with the -peasants’ detachments!” came the shout back from -the square.</p> - -<p>This morning something else was lost up there in -the castle. Only a desperate effort made by secret -organisation can help us now. The army of Hungary -has passed entirely into the hands of Pogány-Schwarz, -and the soldiers, drunk with joy, are shooting in the -streets.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 13th-15th.</i></p> - -<p>The die was cast yesterday in the Castle, and the -red flag was hoisted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span></p> - -<p>It is now impossible to patch up the country’s -misfortune. It is the Government which has patched -itself up. Albert Bartha, the patriotic Hungarian -soldier, has left, and so has Batthyány. The socialists -had intended the Ministry of the Interior for the -communist Eugene Landler, but they did not succeed -in that. All the same, the victory of the socialists -is complete—they have got the War Office! For the -present Károlyi is temporary Minister of War, but -it is obvious that a little Jewish electrician, the -social-democrat, William Böhm, stands behind him, -though not so long ago he was repairing the typewriters -and electric installations of the office.</p> - -<p>“Good, you have come at last; just repair my -machine!” the girl-clerks said to him when they saw -him in the passages of the War Office. “I am the -Minister of War,” Böhm answered proudly, and sat -down at Bartha’s desk. Already he calls himself -Hungary’s Minister of War. Károlyi still masks him, -but the game is obvious. When Károlyi formed his -government on the 1st of November he started with -five Jewish Ministers, but as he was afraid of public -opinion he confessed to three only: Jászi, Garami -and Kunfi, while in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs -Diener-Dénes, and in the Ministry of Finance Paul -Szende were hidden behind his own name.</p> - -<p>They advance with frightful rapidity. The powers -of destruction are putting into practice with ruthless -logic the pronouncement of Kunfi to the National -Assembly on the day the republic was proclaimed -under the cupola of the House of Parliament: “After -the institutions we shall have to change men; we -must put into every place in this country men who -are inspired by the spirit of our new revolutionary -ideas.”</p> - -<p>It is clear now who these are, for the military -and civilian administrations are already filled with -people who used to work behind the counters of shops -or banks, or in editorial offices, and used to mock at -the unpractical Hungarian intellectuals who struggled -for starvation wages in the public offices. Now they -are taking their places, getting sudden rises in their -salaries, and pursuing a racial policy such as, alas! -the Hungarian race has never been able to pursue.</p> - -<p>“We are wiping out a thousand years,” is their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -cry, and they find fault with all the old institutions; -but so far as they themselves are concerned, no -criticism is allowed.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp53" id="illus28" style="max-width: 31.25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus28.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">WILLIAM BÖHM.<br /> - <span class="smaller">TYPEWRITER AGENT. PEOPLE’S COMMISSARY FOR - (1) HOME AFFAIRS; (2) WAR OFFICE. LATER A COMMANDER OF THE RED ARMY, - AND FINALLY ‘AMBASSADOR’ AT VIENNA.</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_196"><i>To face p. 196.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>“Do you know, we have now come to this,” a -tradesman said to me in his shop, looking round -cautiously as he spoke, “that it is counter-revolution -to push a Galician Jew by accident in the street.”</p> - -<p>Now that we have retired from everything, and -Hungary’s social life has been swallowed up in the -nation’s poverty and mourning, the twin-type of the -war-millionaire, the revolution-millionaire, begins to -play his part. A new kind of public invades the -restaurants, the theatres and the places of amusement: -plays, written by its writers, are played to -full houses; people in gabardines occupy the stalls, -while in the boxes orthodox Jewish women in wigs -chatter in Yiddish, and in the interval eat garlic-scented -sausages in the beautiful, noble foyer of the -Royal Opera, and throw greasy paper bags about.</p> - -<p>In the restaurants of the Ritz and Hungaria Hotels -a new type of guests eat exclusively with their knives; -their mentality is shown by the fact that the other -day when a few French officers left a restaurant, -they ordered the gipsy band to play the ‘Marseillaise,’ -and rose to their feet. One of the officers turned -back and said: “Sale nation....”</p> - -<p>Invading conquerors sometimes deprive the conquered -of freedom, weapons, and goods; but our -conquerors deprive us of our honour as well.</p> - -<p>Every day it becomes clearer to me that we shall -never be able to repel the devastators pouring in -over our frontiers till we have dealt with the devastators -in our midst, and have put them back into -their place. And—if we all work hand in hand—</p> - -<p>Count Stephen Bethlen wants to weld all the -patriotic Hungarian parties into one.</p> - -<p>We women are already great in numbers. Every -day we form new camps in different quarters of the -town. I address the women, and tell them that our -fortress is a triangle, the three advanced outworks -being our country, our faith, and our family. These -three outworks are threatened by Jewish socialist-communism. -Before the foe can storm the fort we -must strengthen the souls of the defenders so that the -offensive may collapse. Of all humanity, women will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -be the heaviest losers if the war is lost and the -communists win, for women are to be common -property when once the home is broken up, and God -and country have been denied.</p> - -<p>The testament of Peter the Great is the programme -of Panslavism. The communist declaration of Karl -Marx, the son of a rabbi, Mordechai by his real name, -is the programme of Panjudaism. If it is realised, -Hungary perishes, and human culture will follow it -into its grave. We who fight on the soil of dismembered, -trampled Hungary do not fight for ourselves -alone, but for every Christian woman in the -world. They know it not, and they stretch forth no -hand to help us, but look on while the nations to -which they belong ruin us. But the day may still -come when we shall be understood.</p> - -<p>Those who heard my words followed me, and many -of them offered their help, though at that time it was -dangerous to make such an offer. I noticed more -than once that furtive steps followed me in the -streets, stopping when I stopped, and going on when -I started again. They accompanied me down dark -staircases, and when I looked back from a door I had -entered, someone was standing in the dark and -watching.</p> - -<p>The Government knows about us, the police are -watching us, but in vain; the idea goes on and -spreads. Whenever I express it people recognise -it as their own. It cannot be stopped now.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 16th.</i></p> - -<p>Once upon a time.... Or was it not so long ago? -Was it on a winter evening in my childhood that I -heard the story that once, up there in the Carpathians, -a huge giant opened his jaws and tried to swallow -the world? We were already between his teeth, and -all over the world folk said that that was the end of -us. Poor little Hungary was done for, Imperial -Austria would follow, and then it would be the turn -of Germany. It seemed as if our time had come. In -the shadow of the Alps, Italy waiting for her opportunity, -drew her dagger from under her cloak, and -stabbed us in the back. Roumania was feverishly -tugging at her knife.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span></p> - -<p>“Nothing can help the Central Powers now”.... -The whole world said so, and thought us easy victims.</p> - -<p>Then a miracle happened. It was on a certain day -in May, and on that spring morning the three allies -started an attack near Gorlice. “Mackensen, Mackensen!” -they shouted in victory, and the Tsar’s -Russia, the most terrible enemy whom a people had -ever encountered, fell upon us.</p> - -<p>Was it a long time ago? Was it in my childhood -that I heard the story, that, down in Transylvania, -like an echo of Gorlice, the name of Mackensen rose -again as a cry of victory above the Hungarian and -German armies? And then, above the vast mirror -of the Danube’s flood, a third time the name of -Mackensen resounded. For the third time he stood -at the head of the armies that were defending the -gates of Hungary.</p> - -<p>Was it a long time ago? Was it so long ago that -time has obliterated its memory? It was yesterday! -It was on history’s bloody page in the world-war, -while there was still hope, while our honour was still -bright.</p> - -<p>And to-day when Mackensen came to Budapest to -negotiate with Károlyi for the repatriation of his -army, the red soldiers of Pogány-Schwarz, under the -leadership of Captain Gerö-Grosz, with full knowledge -of the Government, dragged machine-guns to the -railway station and trained their muzzles on the line, -while an evening paper had its Kinema operator -ready. That is how Hungary’s capital prepared for -the reception of Field-Marshal von Mackensen.</p> - -<p>When he looked out of his carriage window and -saw the shameful spectacle of the railway station -fortified against him, his fine, sharp features were distorted -with rage. He took it in at a glance: he had -been trapped. Capt. Gerö went up to him and told -him he was a prisoner. Then he informed him that -Károlyi wanted to negotiate with him and expected -him at the House of Parliament. Mackensen protested, -refused to go, and desired that Károlyi or -his representative should come to the station. Capt. -Gerö informed him that any refusal on his part -would have disastrous consequences for his army.</p> - -<p>After fierce argument the Field-Marshal reluctantly -yielded, but declared that he would not leave his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -carriage till the machine-guns and the kinematograph -apparatus were removed from the station. This was -conceded. When he got out his face was white with -anger and his chest heaved so that the decorations -on it shook. He walked with his head erect to the -closed car that was waiting for him.</p> - -<p>The meeting between him and Károlyi took place -in the House of Parliament, in the Prime Minister’s -room. A German friend of mine gave me the following -account of it, received directly from the Field-Marshal’s -lips.</p> - -<p>Károlyi received him standing and advanced a few -steps to meet him. Behind him the social democratic -secretary for War, the little Jewish electrician, was -making himself as small as possible. Mackensen remained -rigid, with both hands behind his back, -glaring at the two men. He listened without a word -to Károlyi, who, putting the responsibility on the -powers of the Entente, requested him to give up all -the arms of his army in conformity with the Belgrade -Armistice. The Field-Marshal declined and said -that as far as he was concerned, and according to -his instructions from Spa, the conditions of the -armistice concluded on the Western front were in -force. He also declared that he would not leave -Hungary till the last man of his army was over the -frontier.</p> - -<p>Károlyi informed him that he could not leave in -any case, as he, with his whole army, was going to -be interned in Fóth.</p> - -<p>“I did not expect that!” said Mackensen. And -hard words were spoken between them. The -Hungarian Government, however, had left itself a -loophole. At first Károlyi threatened to intern the -whole army, but at length he conceded that disarmament -would be sufficient, and this Mackensen accepted -only conditionally with the consent of the -German Government.</p> - -<p>During the debate Károlyi stuttered more than -usual, and when this painful meeting came to an end -he proffered his hand hesitatingly to Mackensen. -The Field-Marshal measured him with contempt: “I -have had to do with many people in my life, but I -have never before met a man who was so devoid of -all honour as you are.” Then, with a slight nod,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -he turned his back on him. And the hand of Michael -Károlyi, which had already been contemptuously -ignored by the French General Franchet d’Esperay, -was left empty in the air.</p> - -<p>It was thus that Mackensen became a prisoner of -Hungary.</p> - -<p>Was it a long time ago? Was it in my childhood -that I heard the story that once upon a time the -shout of “Mackensen, Mackensen!” resounded victoriously -at three gates of Hungary?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 17th-22nd.</i></p> - -<p>We walk in the gutter of shame between two -close, high walls, whence there is no escape and no -rest. In this deadly atmosphere we sink deeper and -deeper at every turning.</p> - -<p>Yesterday evening was even worse than usual. It -was late when I said good-night to my mother, and -I could get no sleep. Nations carry their misfortunes -in common, and that is why they can bear the worst, -but the shame which has now befallen us is so colossal -that it seems to belong to us alone. It isolates us from -humanity. I had been lying motionless in the dark -for a long time and could think of nothing but how -Károlyi had sinned against us. To-morrow the whole -world will know it and even our enemies will despise -us for it.</p> - -<p>Our enemies?... The face of a German soldier -seemed to stare at me from the dark. He was -wounded; a shell had torn off both his legs. He had -been brought from Transylvania about two years -ago. I had spoken to him in the German hut at the -railway station. And then there appeared another, -and, as in a mad feverish dream, they came, and -came, through the dark, pressing on in endless -array, covered with blood, lame, mutilated, all those -I had met in four and a half years’ of war. One looked -hard and scornful, another reproachful, and all -stared at me pitilessly, and in my dream I could -hear their moans.</p> - -<p>During the years of war, the German, in his infinite -pride, clumsily, coarsely, often hurt us, as he -has hurt us before many times in history. His -dreams of annexations have often eliminated the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -possibility of peace. His manner of waging war, the -work of his diplomacy, and, above all, the arrogance -he assumed in dealing with us, were often strange to -our mind. But we recognised his greatness, his -strength, his endurance and his honour, and I am -convinced that there is not a single Hungarian in -Hungary who does not repudiate, desperately and -indignantly, that which Károlyi has dared to do in -our name to Mackensen.</p> - -<p>It was torture to lie still in bed. Why is there -nobody among us who will avenge this? Why is -there nobody who will wipe off the dirt before -it dries on us? Innumerable eyes glared at me -through the dark from under German soldiers’ caps, -and at last I could bear it no longer. I lit a candle -and tried to read. I took up a Hungarian book, for -I felt that at that moment it would be impossible to -read a book in any other tongue. When my mind -was troubled how often had I not found solace in -Arány, Vörösmarty and Petöfi? They wept over -Austrian tyranny, over the failure of our war of -liberation, but for all their sufferings those were -pleasant times compared with the present. They -knew how to console the passing sufferings of their -age, and in that their age was fortunate—but we are -forsaken. In our great city of a million there is not -a single poet through whose verses we can express -our sorrows, who can give voice to our sufferings.</p> - -<p>Anatole France poses as a socialist, and yet -throughout the whole war he stood for the national -ideals of France with the wholehearted fury of -<i>revanche</i>. Gabriele d’Annunzio, proclaimed a -traitor from the Capitol, led his nation off the right -path, yet there was beauty in his wild war-cry because -it was inflamed by the love of his country and -his people. And while Anatole France and -d’Annunzio sang in beautiful strains the glory and -the victory of their nation, most of the poets of -Budapest were in the cafés talking philosophy and -pacifism, and more than one among them helped forward -the rebellion at the Astoria Hotel. There were -even some who proposed to the Council of Public -Works that one public square should be called after -Michael Károlyi, another in commemoration of the -“battle” on the bridge, after the 31st of October,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -and the public park after a socialist newspaper! Were -they misled? Maybe, but where are they now, when -there can be no longer any misconception, when our -land and our people are trodden down by the crowd -they have joined? If Hungarian politicians have -sunk into deplorable impotence, if there is not a -single soldier to draw his sword, why do not the -poets rouse the sleeping nation?</p> - -<p>I crouched at my writing-table and in my grief -started to address a letter to them. About an hour -may have passed when suddenly I heard the creaking -of a door in our flat. Steps went through the -drawing-room. One was quick, the other hesitating. -The dear, quaint rhythm approached and I remembered. -Thus did my mother come to me when I was -a child, when I had bad dreams, and even before -she had reached my side all that was terrifying would -vanish.</p> - -<p>She opened the door. She could no more sleep -than I could, so she sat down in the big arm-chair -near my writing-table and remained there in silence. -And I began to read to her what I had written.</p> - -<p>“Our war was a war of self-defence. If anybody -denies it, let him look at our frontiers north, south -and east, if his tearful eyes can see so far. The war -we lost was a war of self-defence. We lost it terribly, -more terribly than fate had decreed. And now, the -pain is so burning, our sufferings are so immeasurable, -that the human brain has become benumbed -and we are dropping from our hands that which we -ought to hold on to.</p> - -<p>“Our people, with its thousand years of history, -stands exhausted, incapable of acting while the -moments of grace which fate has given us before -closing the most awful chapter of our history pass -by.</p> - -<p>“The sand is running out, and there is no hand -to stay it. Where is he who will seize the moment -and shout a message to our unarmed brethren -perishing amid the bayonets of Czechs, Roumanians -and Serbs? Who will raise his voice so that it will -carry beyond the walls erected by war between the -peoples of the world, and bring faith, hope and love -to us once more? Where is he? And if his voice -does not carry far enough, why in this hour of our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -trial have all the strings of our nation’s lute been -slackened? Why did our war produce no Petöfi, -why is the burning pain of our defeat without Arány? -The strains of soft chords carry further than the -declamations of loud-voiced orators.</p> - -<p>“Have even the songs of our fighting bards forsaken -Hungary? Have the minstrels that remained -at home all bled to death? The recital of our -sorrows should be piercing the hearts of five continents; -strength and faith should be sung to our -sufferers at home, the bloodless nation should be -stirred up with wild inspiring songs, so that it may -not abandon hope. Poets are needed, poets whose -voices can hold together the Hungarian soil, poets -who will teach Hungarians to help each other.</p> - -<p>“Let them come, I beseech them, let the poets -come who still feel Hungary’s pain as their own, for -whom Hungary’s death is the death of themselves. -For Pressburg weeps above the Danube, the people -of our northern counties have lost their homes, -faithful Zips calls broken-hearted to the Great Plain. -Kassa is ready to grasp Rákoczi’s sword. Transylvania -shows her martyr’s wounds while the proud -Székler shakes off his shackles and the ancient land -that Hunyádi held is breaking its heart over the disgrace -of Belgrade. Who can give us a word of comfort, -who can strengthen us with faith in a better -future, in this hour of our agony, if not the poets of -the nation?</p> - -<p>“And while I clamour in vain for them the -immortals rise from their tombs, the great army of -national spirits, planting a standard round which the -millions of Hungarians should rally: a torch to guide -them, a camp-fire to rest them, and the soft flames -of the hearth to comfort them in the night of great -deception.</p> - -<p>“While our contemporaries fail to find a voice for -our sufferings, Petöfi wanders among the ragged -mutilated heroes who have returned:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Oh shame, oh bitter shame! Once Clio’s records told</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of fame no fairer than thy fair name’s fame;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Now thou’rt despised, and those who would of old</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Cringe at thy feet, dare strike thee free and bold</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Full in the face, and cover thee with shame.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Whate’er my fate, whatever its decree,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I shall forbear and suffer for thy sake;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though God’s most bitter curse should fall on me,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ne’er shall I rest, but goad and harass thee</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Until I stir thy heart, or my heart break.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Down there in the plain, Arány wandered after -sunset over the snow-covered land. He stopped at -the threshold of stately manors, under hamlets’ tiny -windows, lit up by the brushwood fire from within. -And it is the soul of the plains that speaks from his -lips:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“The Nation lives and shudders as its heart</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With horror feels destruction’s deadly grip....”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“And above all, alone, like the voice of a giant -choir, the voice of Vörösmarty exclaims:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“For come it will, for come it must</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The dawn of better days,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For which this land, with pious lips</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beseeches Thee and prays.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Thus speaks the past to us while the lute of the -present is silent, while innumerable, homeless Hungarians -wander aimlessly in the streets of the distracted -country’s epidemic-ridden capital, whose -streets are bedizened with flags fluttering in heart-breaking -irony.</p> - -<p>“My poor, unfortunate town, is there nobody to -tell thee to put thy begrimed flags at half-mast? -Hast thou not a single minstrel to rouse thee? Dost -thou not see thy disgraced streets trodden by the -fugitives of half thy country, by foreign armies, while -all around thee the country is dismembered?</p> - -<p>“So let the dead come with their lyre to raise the -quick, let the grave shout into the dwellings of the -living, let the past console the present. For the -songs of Hungary’s poets of the past are all our -hope; for they alone hold the promise of Hungary’s -future.”</p> - -<p>So far had I written. In the morning I telephoned -to the editor of the <i>Pesti Hirlap</i> and asked him if he -wanted an article. It was the first time in my life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -that I had had to ask for space: up till now it was -the papers who had asked me for copy. The editor -accepted with thanks, so I sent him the manuscript; -but I looked in vain for it in the paper next day, and -the day after. I telephoned again. The editor was -embarrassed, he apologised and said that he regretted -he was unable to publish the article as it was not in -accordance with the Government’s views.</p> - -<p>“Are the Government’s views so anti-patriotic -then?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Please don’t forget,” said the editor nervously, -“that the present situation is terribly delicate; this -may be the last bourgeois government, and goodness -only knows how long it can hold its own.”</p> - -<p>“I hope not long. I would rather see destruction -declare itself openly. This downfall in disguise is -intolerable.”</p> - -<p>While we were speaking I heard a curious buzzing -in the telephone, as if something were wrong with -the apparatus. I wanted to speak to the editor of -another paper, but the exchange was unable to give -me the connection, though I tried for a long time. -Meanwhile I sent to the <i>Pesti Hirlap</i> for my manuscript.</p> - -<p>When it came at last I took it to the editor of the -Radical <i>Az Ujság</i>. That also was a new experience, -but I was determined that the article should appear -in print, and refused to give in. Again the editor -received my request courteously, and actually carried -out his promise next day; the article appeared, -though in an obscure corner, and very indistinctly -set.</p> - -<p>Some day, when peace and quiet have returned, -people will wonder how this could have happened -under a government which proclaimed the freedom -of the press, and at a time when the mouthpiece of -the Social Democrats could promise its readers over -their breakfast table that “the glorious revolution” -would sweep away “bourgeois” society, and could -accuse the Hungarian race of jingoism because it -would not renounce without protest territory it had -held for a thousand years—that a poor essay dealing -with Hungary’s sufferings should have had to perform -such an Odyssey before a newspaper could be -found to publish it. It will perhaps seem just as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -astonishing that I received in connection with it innumerable -letters of thanks, and that a friend of mine -who had spent fifty-one months at the front, and who -had shown reckless courage, telephoned to me, saying: -“Tears came into our eyes when we read your -article. I take off my hat to you for having the -courage to speak out.”</p> - -<p>And while all these people, suffering greatly, were -grateful because I said what they all felt, our foremost -actress, Theresa Csillag, was walking about the -town selling the shabby newspaper and, with her -inimitable, beautiful voice, reading to the very souls -of the passers-by the appeal: “Wake up!”</p> - -<p>There are many of us, only we don’t know each -other.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>December 23rd-24th.</i></p> - -<p>Everyone I have spoken to within the last few days -has expressed anger and disgust over Mackensen’s -arrest. Countess Raphael Zichy told me she met -Michael Károlyi accidentally, and told him straight -out what she thought about it.</p> - -<p>“It was bound to happen,” he answered cynically, -“the worst that can happen now is that I shall have -the reputation of having been the first ungentlemanly -prime minister of Hungary.”</p> - -<p>We met again in the Zichy Palace, the same group -as last time. We had intended talking about our -women’s organization, but, somehow, we could not -avoid the subject of Mackensen.</p> - -<p>“We must write to him in the name of the -women!” said I, and there was a chorus of approval. -I was entrusted with the writing of the letter, and -Prince Hohenlohe offered to translate it into German, -while the others promised to collect signatures.</p> - -<p>I wrote it the same night: it gave me no trouble, -for it was already in my mind. I repudiated Károlyi’s -base deed, scorned it, branded it in the name of -womenkind, and asked the Field Marshal to forgive -what had been done against the will of the nation. -We were helpless at present, but the day would come -when Hungary’s people would raise up a statue of -him on the rocks of the Carpathians which he had -defended.</p> - -<p>My mother was the first to sign my sheet. Then -I started for town, and in the evening brought home -with me many signatures. A message was waiting -for me at home to say that Countess Albert Apponyi<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -was going to Fóth, and as she too had signed the -letter, she would take the message of Hungary’s -womanhood to Mackensen for Christmas.</p> - -<p>It was little enough, but we had no more to give. -The Field Marshal understood. He read the letter -at once and was deeply moved when he expressed -his thanks.</p> - -<p>Thus came the eve of Holy Christmas.</p> - -<p>Along the pavements grimy heaps of snow were -melting. Squashy black mud covered the streets, the -gas lamps flickered palely, and the shops were closed -at an early hour. The trams had stopped. The -town was needy and cold.</p> - -<p>When, in accordance with our yearly custom, my -mother and I went to spend the holy evening with -my sister Mary, we saw armed drunken soldiers -loafing about the streets. All round us there was -firing going on, and the windows of the houses were -in darkness.</p> - -<p>Everywhere in Hungary the windows are dark to-day, -and there is shooting among the houses of -peaceful people. Only the frontiers, the dangerously -receding frontiers, are quiet under the wintry sky. -Over the snow-covered fields of Transylvania a -Roumanian general is marching on Kolozsvár with -four thousand men. Yesterday his advance guards -entered the town of King Matthias Corvinus. I -wept when I heard it....</p> - -<p>The French Lieut.-Colonel Vyx has sent another -memorandum. He has advanced the Entente’s line -of demarcation once more, and has now pushed it -beyond Pressburg, Kassa, Kolozsvár, beyond many -lovely Hungarian towns. And the Czechs and -Serbians are still advancing....</p> - -<p>Never has Hungary known a sadder Christmas -than this one. There are no lights on our Christmas -tree, it has been turned into a gallows tree and -bound to it stands our generation, wounded more -deeply than any Hungarian generation has ever been -wounded before.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>Christmas Night.</i></p> - -<p>An icy wind was blowing when my mother and I -came home through the unfriendly streets, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -volleys were being fired in the direction of one of the -barracks. We went out and came back amidst the -clatter of firearms, and between the two journeys -there was the picture of my sister’s home, the usual -room, the dwarf pine tree, with spluttering, bad -candles, and, on the table, covered with white linen, -the children’s presents. They at least enjoyed it. -The little boy thought that his brother’s patched up -rocking horse was new, and that everything was -lovely. Poor children of a poor age, it is as well that -they don’t know what our Christmasses were -like!... A hundred candles, a noble, grand fir -tree reaching up to the ceiling. The smell of pure -wax mingling with the perfume of the fir, fresh from -the Vág valley, and every wish of the year was satisfied -under that tree. Beyond that, I saw another -tree, then another, and another, many more.... -Burning candles and green fir trees carried me back -into the years of the past: an avenue of shining -Christmas trees, the end of which is so far away that -in the depth of its perspective I can see myself quite -small. There, far away, I was a child, like those -who now count me among the old. Then all the old -folk were still with me, the dear old ones who stand -between us and death when we start life. There are -many of them, many defending rows, so that we -cannot see the end of the road.... As we advance, -one after another they disappear. My two grandmothers, -my father.... One defending row after -the other has fallen out, and now only my mother -and Uncle Géza, her brother, stand in front of -me.... I am coming to the front myself; like the -others before me, I am hiding the end of the road -from the children who are growing up....</p> - -<p>When childhood has passed, the festivities of -Christmas are always damped by the quiet sadness -of memories. And this year it is not only the past -of individuals but the past of our country, our people -that haunts us. How lovely Christmas used to -be.... Hungary’s Christmas! So naturally -lovely that we did not know....</p> - -<p>Christmas bells! When they called to midnight -mass their clanging mingled with the rattle of -machine-guns.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 25th-30th.</i></p> - -<p>In the good old times the last week of the year -used to be one uninterrupted holiday. This year it -is only a horrible part of the desperate road we have -to tread. The news spreads from one to the other: -to-morrow—the day after to-morrow—on New Year’s -Eve at the latest—there is going to be great -slaughter in the town. Everything one sees is cruel, -rough and repellent. I have hidden from it these last -few days, and, near my mother, in the peace of my -home, once more I have had time to think.</p> - -<p>The Government speaks of elections, and promises -this sham legal confirmation of its power for -January, as the Entente refuses to deal with it under -present conditions. Meanwhile the Social Democrats -are trying to win over the villages, so the reform of -the land-laws is again to the fore. They have always -been a poisonous wound in Hungarian life, and -should have been altered, justly, soberly, many a -year ago. Previous governments have postponed it -unscrupulously; the present government wants to -use it as a firebrand. Buza Barna, the Minister for -Agriculture, has promised so much land to those who -want it that he wouldn’t be able to find it even if he -were to divide up all the entailed and private -estates; and he has promised it for such an early -date that it is technically impossible to deal with -the matter in time.</p> - -<p>The intention is obvious. After the Russian pattern, -they want to gain the peaceful peasants’ -adherence to their revolutionary principles. So they -promise land to everybody. This lying promise has -spread with evil results: following the example of -the workers in the towns, the agricultural labourers -have now stopped work. They expect to till their -own plots in the spring, so why should they work for -others now? No autumn sowing is being done, and -while the country is starving, maize, potatoes, -beetroot, swedes and vegetables worth millions remain -in the fields unharvested. Agitators visit the -villages, inciting the people against private property -and landlords, and appealing to the servants and -labourers to take possession of the land.</p> - -<p>As the Budapest Soldiers’ Council rules over the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> -military administration of the government by means -of its government delegates, so the Budapest -Workers’ Council lords it over the civil administration -through its Socialist ministers. The leaders of -the Soldiers’ and the Workers’ Councils are all of -the foreign race, and they never tire of advancing -their intentions of spoliation, wrapped in the utopian -dreams of Bolshevism. The Workers’ Council at its -last meeting in the New Town Hall settled the fate -of land reform by simply overthrowing it, by -declaring that the land was common property—that -all private property must cease. Then they settled -the question of taxes in a manner that effectually -rendered any further discussion unnecessary. They -proposed a hundred per cent. tax on all property—<i>i.e.</i> -confiscation.</p> - -<p>These declarations and propositions are spreading -rapidly all over the country and preparing the minds -of the people for the second revolution, which -Zsigmond Kunfi, Lenin’s emissary, threatens us -will break out if the middle classes show resistance -or dare to organise, or go so far as to attempt -to give satisfaction to the powers of the Entente, -who would prefer to deal with a middle class -government rather than with the present rulers -of Bolshevist tendencies. “There is need for a new -revolution,” says he, “and it will come.”</p> - -<p>The Government made no provision for order, -coal or food during the Christmas holidays, but -promised a new revolution instead—and it is with -this promise that the terrible year makes its exit.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>December 31st.</i></p> - -<p>It was by accident that I went there. In front of -the Maria Theresa barracks the soldiers had erected -barricades of benches and seats on the pavement. -They laid their loaded rifles on the backs of the -seats, sat there and drew a bead on everybody who -approached. “Get away from here!” they shouted. -Now and then a shot rang out, but no damage was -done.</p> - -<p>I went into a shop; it was already crowded, and -people were talking excitedly. Somebody said there -was to be a communist meeting in the barracks.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -Béla Kún was to come from the Francis Joseph barracks, -where he had incited the men to drive away -their officers, but the soldiers could not make up their -minds. Most of them watched the proceedings from -the windows and then somebody fired a shot down -into the yard, whence the fire was returned. There -was a lot of firing and Béla Kún and his associates -disappeared in the confusion. The soldiers then began -to maltreat their officers and broke into the -armoury, where about four thousand of them obtained -arms. They are coming now, and are going to occupy -the streets....</p> - -<p>Four thousand men! It was precisely that -number of Roumanians who occupied Kolozsvár, -but there were no four thousand Hungarians to face -them. By order of the Government Lászlo Fényes -had disarmed and sent away the Székler guards. It -was in vain that Fényes was beaten later on by -desperate Transylvanian fists, for four thousand -Roumanians had meanwhile torn Kolozsvár from -the country....</p> - -<p>I was brought back to the present by people -running past the shop. Someone shouted “The Communists -are coming!” A panic followed. Everybody -rushed into the street, and the shops’ shutters -were drawn down quickly behind them. Red rags -appeared on houses, and the middle of the road -became as empty as if it had been swept clean. An -armed lorry passed.</p> - -<p>“There! That one on the right, that’s Béla -Kún!” Hands pointed to a vulgar-looking, yellow-skinned, -dark-eyed, puffy-faced individual. His hat -was tilted to the nape of his neck and his overcoat -was open.</p> - -<p>As I was going home by a round-about way I -pondered on the man I had seen. Where had I seen -his face before? Suddenly I remembered. Shortly -after the October revolution a man was addressing -some disabled soldiers from the top of a garbage -box near the railway station. I had been astonished -at the time to see how this ghetto-Jew, who spoke -bad Hungarian and had only lately discarded the -gabardine, managed to get a hearing. I remembered -that clearly. He had a common fat face and his eyes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -blinked while he preached against the existing -order. His blubbering mouth opened and closed as -if he were chewing the cud. He shouted in a hoarse, -lifeless voice. He grew warm, and as he spoke he -removed his hat frequently and wiped the perspiration -off his baldish head with the palm of his dirty hand. -I had wondered at the ugly foreign people who were -listened to now-a-days by our folk. People who -can’t speak Hungarian set one Hungarian against -another.</p> - -<p>There was no doubt whatever about it. The man -on the garbage box and the man whom the people -pointed out as Béla Kún were one and the same.</p> - -<p>I heard later what had happened in the barracks. -There too Béla Kún made a revolutionary speech. -Before he started, two Jewish corporals had attempted -to prepare the soldiers, but the soldiers -threatened them and they were lucky to escape. -Then Béla Kún tried to speak. The soldiers arrested -him, boxed his ears, shoved him into the lock-up and -turned the key in the door. Everybody was pleased; -the soldiers cheered their officers, and it seemed for -a moment that the soldiers of the Maria Theresa -barracks would stand their ground and beat -anarchy. Then Joseph Pogány arrived in a motor -car with his escort. He inquired excitedly what had -happened, cursed both officers and men, and hurried -to Béla Kún. They had a long conversation in the -lock-up, then Pogány solemnly released the Communist -and drove him off in his car. Meanwhile the -mutinous soldiers from the Francis Joseph barracks -arrived. It was quick work. When Pogány’s motor -started with Béla Kún in it the soldiers were already -shouting with all their might “Long live Communism!”</p> - -<p>In the afternoon Countess Károlyi, escorted by -her husband’s secretary, an officer called Jeszenszky, -visited the barracks. In the evening it was the talk -of the town that there was going to be a mutiny, and -that the citizens were going to be massacred at night. -Explosions were heard now and then in the dark, -and the rumour spread that the communists had -blown up a munition factory and the railway bridge. -They were all false; it was only the soldiers out on a -spree. They fired the heavy guns, threw hand-grenades,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -dragged machine-guns into the street and -fired them just to pass the time away.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="illus29" style="max-width: 34.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus29.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">BELA KUN,<br /> - <span class="smaller">ANNOUNCING, FROM THE STEPS OF THE HOUSE - OF PARLIAMENT, THAT THE PROLETARIAT HAS TAKEN OVER THE GOVERNMENT.</span></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_214"><i>To face p. 214.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>Midnight drew nearer amid the clatter of fire-arms. -As at Christmas, we again gathered at my sister -Mary’s. The New-Year’s punch was standing ready -in long fluted glasses, and the children kept looking -at the clock.</p> - -<p>I had a letter in my hand; it had come from the -capital of Transylvania with the last Hungarian post, -behind it the barrier had crashed down. It was just -like getting news of the death of a relation during -the war, and after he had been buried receiving the -last letter from his hand. My heart bled, though I -did not know, and had never seen, the writer of the -epistle. I read it out aloud:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Kolozsvar</span>, December 23rd, 1918.</p> - -<p>I have just read in the Sunday issue of ‘Az Ujsag’ your -article ‘Awake.’ I cannot describe what I felt when I read -your lines, and yet I feel I must write to you. Every word -of your terrible, biting truth has engraved itself upon my -heart. It is this tone, this hard, bitter language, that we -need to-day; we need it as much as a starving man needs a -bit of bread, as a drowning person needs something to cling -to. That is what we want: the proclamation of our confidence, -our self-respect, to a world in which every nation -boils with patriotism while we Hungarians, alone, proclaim -internationalism, humility, and resignation—far beyond the -necessities of our miserable condition.</p> - -<p>It is true: our leaders don’t feel Hungary’s death—and, -what is worse, our poets are silent as if they too were insensible -to it. I cannot thank you enough that in this backboneless, -collapsing, suicidal Hungarian world you have had -courage enough to throw it in our teeth. How many Hungarians -like you are there in the de-nationalised heart of our -country, and how many Hungarian writers besides you feel -there, what we feel here, when this evening brings us the -burden of the certainty that to-morrow, on Christmas Eve, -Roumanian troops will tread the streets of Kolozsvar?</p> - -<p>I write these lines from the unhappy soil of Transylvania -on the eve of the occupation of its capital. I beg of you -don’t forsake us poor Hungarians in the future. Write for -us. We welcome your lines, your writings, as prisoners in -their dungeon welcome rays of sunshine. It is possible that -politically we shall fall to pieces, that the predatory nations -who fall upon us will tear us to shreds, but the meeting of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -Gyulafehervar cannot make a law, the Government Council -of Nagy Szeben has not power enough, and the Roumanian -occupation cannot bring in an army big enough to tear from -our hearts that which was written there by your pen. As -long as the Hungarian spirit lives, there is hope for our -resurrection.</p> - -<p class="center">I remain, etc.,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Vegvari</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p>We looked at each other. This letter came, not -from a single individual, but from Kolozsvár, from -the whole of unhappy, amputated Transylvania.</p> - -<p>“What will there be in a year’s time? What will -remain of Hungary?” Our prophecies were gloomy -indeed; the crowning mercy of hope alone remained. -Then my brother-in-law said: “They can tear us to -pieces, but they’ll never prevent us from getting -together again!”</p> - -<p>I asked my mother what she thought.</p> - -<p>“It is your affair now. I shall watch you.”</p> - -<p>The clock struck.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 1st, 1919.</i></p> - -<p>This year people dare not wish each other a happy -New Year. They murmur something, then cast their -eyes down with a strange expression, as if they were -looking into an open grave.</p> - -<p>Kassa has been occupied by the Czechs! Under -the tower of its old cathedral, down in the crypt, -Rákoczi’s skeleton hands are clenched and he asks: -“Is it for this that you brought my body back from -Turkey?” On the same day the Hungarian troops -left Pressburg at the instigation of the confidential -men of the Budapest Soldiers’ Council. The local -Workers’ Council thereupon assumed control, and -to-day, on New Year’s day, the Italian Colonel -Ricardo Barecca entered the town at the head of a -Czech regiment. On the bank of the Danube, beside a -marble equestrian statue of Maria Theresa, two Hungarians -stand with “<i>Moriamur pro rege nostro</i>” on -their lips: did they cast their eyes down in shame, -is it only the stones that still say this in Pressburg? -Meanwhile the Government informs the country -with pacificist satisfaction that: “in order to avoid -bloodshed the armed forces of the popular government -have retired everywhere.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span></p> - -<p>During the last few weeks the life of us Hungarians -has been like an attempt to climb out of a putrid -well into daylight. We have toiled painfully upwards, -we have made desperate efforts to escape the -slimy horrors of the water, but in vain. The wall -of the well, like a slippery drain, grows higher above -our heads, the water rises behind us, and there is no -escape. Slimy stagnant water, beastliness, utter -beastliness.</p> - -<p>Yesterday Mackensen was surrounded by French -Spahis in the castle of Fóth. He is now guarded like -a criminal, and people are saying that Károlyi is responsible -for this.</p> - -<p>It is an old-established custom with us that on -New-Year’s day the Prime Minister should make a -speech, retrospective and prospective. Michael -Károlyi delivered his speech this morning. He -accused the past and renounced the future, accused -the old system of being responsible for all our misfortunes, -and, as the only means of salvation, proclaimed -his feeble-minded hobby: “We must seek -help for Hungary’s cause in pacificism, for in that -name alone shall we conquer.... Should pacificism -fail, then I say: <i>finis Hungariæ</i>.”</p> - -<p>Pressburg, Kassa, Kolozsvár ... pacificism failed -to save them. And the man who said on the 31st -of October: “I alone can save Hungary,” cries to -the deceived millions on New Year’s day: “<i>finis -Hungariæ</i>.”</p> - -<p>This cowardly declaration roused me from -lethargy. I felt that from the moment when -Károlyi renounced his prey, our unhappy country -became our own, our very own. If it is over for him, -it must start anew for us. Henceforth I shall work -more, and more ardently.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon we met at my Transylvanian -friend’s house. But before I started from home -various people rang me up on the telephone, and -warned me not to go out because riots were expected. -Some made excuses for non-attendance, some said -they had been warned by the police, others had received -hints from Károlyi’s immediate surroundings. -Though it was scarcely four o’clock when I -left home, I found that the concièrge had already -locked the front door of our house. Hardly anybody<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> -was visible in the dead streets, shops and house-doors -were all shut. The houses looked repellingly, -selfishly down on me, and I had the unpleasant feeling -that if anything happened to me not one of them -would open its door to rescue me. I felt depressed -by a sense of expulsion and outlawry. He who has -never walked in the daytime through an empty -town, where there is no soul, no carriage abroad, -where all the houses are shut up, has never felt what -real loneliness is.</p> - -<p>Only a few of us met in my friend’s room: a few -women and a politician or two, dropped in at intervals. -We were all sad and depressed, and nobody -started a discussion. The only thing we decided -was that our organisation should be called the -National Association of Hungarian Women.</p> - -<p>Before we parted my Transylvanian friend asked -me what our material resources were. I had not -thought of this, so was embarrassed, and felt rather -ridiculous.... We hadn’t got a penny!... This -is the result of having an organisation presided over -by someone whose creative power is restricted to -the writing-table, someone who could imagine the -possession of untold treasures when her pockets were -empty. I could go off to distant countries while -sitting at home with my head between my hands. I -could create a scorching summer while the snow was -falling, and one flower was enough for me to make -a spring. I could build houses and harvest golden -crops, though I possessed no land, no bricks, no -garden and no fields.</p> - -<p>My friend laughed and whispered: “Don’t let it -out, but if you want anything tell me.”</p> - -<p>When I went home the town had regained its usual -aspect. The nightmare had departed, the doors were -open, the traffic had come back again into the empty -streets, and nobody could tell whence the false alarm -had come, whether the communists had meditated a -rising, or Bartha’s scattered officers’ corps had projected -one. It’s just one of our daily frights.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 2nd-3rd.</i></p> - -<p>Two peculiarities in the life and the manners of -old people have become clear to me lately.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p> - -<p>In our generation it has never mattered much who -over-heard what one said. We are accustomed to -speak openly. The security in which we lived until -lately made our opinions free and gave our age its -undisciplined character. I have often noticed that -my mother and people of her age speak in lower -tones than we do, and more discreetly. They were -bred in times when there was always someone unwanted -listening. The spy system of Austrian -absolutism taught them to be cautious. My mother -has often remarked: “You would talk of anything -before anybody.” I used to think that this restraint -was the outcome of the educational principles of a -more refined age. But since the present illegal -government, afraid for its power, has taken to -watching us with spies and <i>agents-provocateurs</i>, I -have realised that the superior, reserved expression of -our elders is not merely the outcome of a more aristocratic -spirit pertaining to a world that has gone, -but that it had its ultimate source in self-defence.</p> - -<p>In the same way another peculiarity of theirs has -become plain. They built their houses and made -their furniture in a different way from ours. When -I was a child I used to love hunting for secret -drawers in ancient furniture, and concealed rooms and -recesses in those cunningly built old houses. I remember -that whenever I went through the abodes of past -ages, old castles, manors and houses, I used to take -a peculiar delight in their elaborate and intricate -construction. The secret hollow spaces in the walls -attracted me, and invisible cupboards—they contrasted -so strangely with the smooth lines of our -modern houses. I realise now that all this was not -due to mere fancy. I realise that there is no precaution -of this sort taken in building a house which -does not spring from a wish for either attack or defence. -The hidden recesses designed by the old -architects, the secret drawers in old furniture, the -reticent, cautious speech of former generations, all -these were only protective against a danger which -threatened. In the last few weeks public security -has grown weaker and weaker, and the rumour has -been spreading with increasing persistence that the -present spendthrift government intends to lay its -hand on all gold and silver in private possession. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -often look round in despair at the smooth walls of -our house, which refuse all help. It is not possible -in these days to bury anything in the woods. The -leaves have fallen long ago, poaching soldiers are -roaming about everywhere, and the townspeople go -out to steal wood all over the place. It is only in -one’s own home that one can hide anything.</p> - -<p>I had a look at the cellar the other day, but its -concrete floor would only yield to a pick-axe, which -would make a noise, and leave tell-tale traces. The -attics are out of the question, for we have had to -remove even the few things we kept there: it is not -even possible to hang the washing in them, for there -are specialists of the burglar fraternity who operate -from the roofs of Budapest.</p> - -<p>I spent sleepless nights pondering over the question -where we should put our silver when I brought -it home; I even thought of the hollow window -frames. If we took up the parquet flooring it would -give very little space and we could put only a few -things under it.</p> - -<p>It was my mother who solved the problem, and we -decided that I should bring the plate chest home -from the bank. This was not quite as easy as it -sounds, for I didn’t dare to do it by myself. A few -days before, we had sent my sister some curtains -and pictures in a hand-cart, and a small party of -soldiers had simply taken the bundle off the cart and -gone off with it. So I asked a cousin of mine to come -to my help. He donned his uniform and armed himself -with a revolver, and under his martial escort I -drove through the town. Whenever soldiers or -sailors approached us a lump rose in my throat. So -many dear momentoes, so many old family things -were hidden in that box—practically all our -valuables were rattling in the ramshackle old cab!</p> - -<p>I got home dead-tired. The day dragged to an -end, and when at last night fell and we could close -the shutters without raising suspicion, and the maids -had gone to bed, we three started to hide the things. -My mother wrapped them up and then tied long -strings to the handles of the ewers and salvers. -Meanwhile I hammered small nails into the top of -my bookcase, tied the strings on them and let down -the salvers behind the case, one after another. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span> -was an excellent plan: nothing was visible, either -from above or from below: the things dangled peacefully -in mid-air. The tea-pots and ewers gave us -more trouble, but there again my mother had an -idea. In the drawing-room a large mirror hung in a -corner and there was a big space behind it; so we -hung the teapots and jugs by strings from two hooks -at the back of it.</p> - -<p>A single electric bulb lit up the gloom of the room. -A chair was placed on the stove, my cousin, in full -uniform, stood on the chair, and my mother and I -handed the things, dangling from their strings, up to -him. He bent up and down as if he were decorating -a Christmas tree.</p> - -<p>It was long after midnight when we had finished, -and as I got into bed I remembered that evening when -I had seen the people in the opposite house hiding -their clothes, and I sympathised even more with -them now. In fact I approved of their action. The -state requisitions clothes ostensibly for the soldiers, -but the soldiers never get them. It is just robbery, -under the guise of Socialism, like everything else -nowadays: the collectors and distributors keep anything -worth keeping. Many a janitor and hall porter -appears suddenly in mackintoshes of British make, -or valuable fur-coats, and not a soul dares to say -anything. The second-hand clothes shops are full of -clothes that have been commandeered.</p> - -<p>When it comes to commandeering the silver it will -be just the same. And as I went off to sleep I was -as pleased with the spaces behind the mirror and the -book-case as a smuggler with his cave.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 4th.</i></p> - -<p>There are few people in the streets to-day. I left -home early, for this morning the police came and -told us that they were going to make a fresh examination -of the villa where the burglary took place. -After much running about, however, we found that -the police had forgotten the whole affair, that no -inquiries had been made, and that the official papers, -as well as my own complaint, had been mislaid. -That is what usually happens nowadays.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span></p> - -<p>There is great excitement in town: the workmen -are taking up a threatening attitude towards the -managements of the factories. The Ganz engineering -works were surrounded this morning by armed men, -the managers were dismissed, and new ones appointed—under -the control of the shop-stewards.</p> - -<p>When I reached the bottom of the hill I had to -wait a long time for a tram. Only one man was -waiting besides me at the stopping-place. He wore -a checkered pork-butcher’s cap and a ragged, dirty -uniform, and in his button hole he displayed the -Socialist emblem, the red man with a hammer. The -stopping-place was at a lonely spot, and I felt uncomfortable, -for the man kept on looking at me.</p> - -<p>I thought it as well to know with whom I had to -deal.</p> - -<p>“Has there been an accident, that there is no -car?” I asked him.</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” he said abruptly. And then, as if irritated -by my presence, he got angry. “We shall put -things straight in no time,” said he. “We’ve -settled with the Ganz works. The trams will come -next. But first of all we’re going to socialize the -state railways, and shall dismiss the managements -of all the works and yards. In the provinces we -shall take things in hand too. Béla Kún and Comrade -Vág have swept the coal-mines of Salgó -Tarján.”</p> - -<p>“It was a sad sweep,” said I. “The result was -eleven killed and about a hundred wounded. Do -you know that there was scarcely a house left -standing afterwards?”</p> - -<p>“The Communist workers behaved all right. It -was the rabble that plundered the town.”</p> - -<p>“I was told that Béla Kún set the armed workers -against the unarmed population. It is said that the -miners used dynamite to blow up the town. They -took possession of the depôts, the railway station, -the post office. Roving gypsies couldn’t have done -all that. It was a well organised rising.”</p> - -<p>The man looked down, smacking his leggings with -his cane. When he looked up again there was hatred -in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“It’s just as well that you gentle-folk should -understand that from now on that’s how things will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> -be done. Everything has been yours long enough, -now let it be the people’s.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you suppose that those you call gentle-folk -have risen from the people? To rise in the -social scale one has to work, and it is worth working -for. Only it is not often the work of a single life, -but of several generations, till at last one reaches the -goal. If from the start there is no possibility of -getting on in the world, it will mean that industry, -hard work and intelligence will be deprived of their -reward. Would you work without a prospect of a -pleasanter life?”</p> - -<p>“No,” the man said hesitatingly. Then, as if -angered by his own back-sliding, he said rudely: -“They tell a different tale in the Unions.”</p> - -<p>“The Jewish leaders....”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s true, they are Jews, every one of -them,” he admitted grudgingly. “Whose fault is it? -The gentle-folk’s, who would not mix with us. They -never troubled about us, and left us to the Jews.”</p> - -<p>“There you are right,” I rejoined, and he took -off his cap when I got into the tram.</p> - -<p>I came home feeling chilled, and met three men -on the stair-case, two soldiers and one in civilian -clothes. The maid who opened the door informed me -that they had come to commandeer lodgings.</p> - -<p>“Did you let them in? Why did you not tell -them that we already had a certified lodger?”</p> - -<p>“It was no good. They pushed me aside and -came in. Poor, dear old lady. They were so rude -to her. They went everywhere, looked at everything, -and told her she would not be allowed more -than two rooms.”</p> - -<p>Naturally my mother was upset. A dentist with -four children had put in a claim for three of our -rooms with the common use of the kitchen and bathroom. -If I remember rightly his name was Pollak -and he had lived till then in the ghetto.</p> - -<p>I flew into a rage. I had never heard of any -lodgings being commandeered for Transylvanian -refugees: they are expelled, while Galician refugees -of Austrian nationality are planted in our midst. -What are they afraid of? What are they fleeing -from, that they thrust their way into the homes of -Christians?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span></p> - -<p>“I’ll arrange it all, don’t you worry,” I said to -my mother. “We haven’t come to that yet....”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 5th.</i></p> - -<p>It was my mother herself who took in the invitation, -and the man who brought it made her promise -solemnly that she would deliver it into my own hands -alone.</p> - -<p>I knew what it was about, and early in the afternoon -I started on my errand. It was five o’clock -before I entered the door of the house owned by the -Franciscans. Some gentlemen were on the staircase -before me. We met in the rooms of Stephen -Zsembéry, a former deputy. All the leaders and -principal members of the anti-revolutionary parties -were present with the exception of Count Julius -Andrássy, who had mysteriously disappeared, and -Count Apponyi, who has retired from politics. Count -Stephen Bethlen proposed the union of all parties, -as the only means of saving the country. At first he -was supported, then objections were raised and—when -we broke up it was decided to meet again -soon, in order to come to some final decision.</p> - -<p>I was sad when I went home. On the way I remembered -a story I had once written of how an inn -stood on the plain, on the great military road. -Warriors passed in great numbers, on their way to -recover Buda from the Turks. They hailed from all -the corners of the earth. There were only two -Hungarians in the inn, but they could not get on -with each other: they quarrelled, came to blows, -killed each other. Over their bleeding corpses their -greatest foe said happily: “That is a good job: if -they had not killed each other, we never could have -got the better of them.”</p> - -<p>These two Hungarians have had many names -in the course of the centuries. Once they were called -Ujlaki and Gara, at another time Kuruc and -Labanc; then Görgey and Kossuth, quite lately Tisza -and Andrássy. And to-day our perennial ghost -seemed to have walked during our labours.</p> - -<p><i>Æterna Hungaria</i>....</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>January 6th.</i></p> - -<p>That ghost has been haunting us too long: it must -be laid. Ever since I met this ever-recurring cause -of our nation’s defeat in the Franciscans’ house, my -language to the women has assumed a graver tone.</p> - -<p>Those who have allowed the country to go to rack -and ruin have not changed, and so a new future -must be built up in the minds of the children. To -succeed our own much tried generation we must -raise up a new one which understands and holds in -horror that bane of our nation, party strife, born of -everlasting jealousy. We must start with the -children, and see that in future no man says to his -brother: “Why should it be thine? Why not -mine?” Or: “If it cannot be mine, let it be rather -our neighbour’s child than thine....”</p> - -<p>The women understand me. Our numbers grow -more and more.</p> - -<p>Cold rain was falling, slanting in the wind, as I -crossed the town on foot, on my way to meet the -leaders of the various organisations of Protestant -women. The streets were emptier than usual, and as -I approached the House of Parliament I began to -feel rather nervous. The friendless streets, like the -lairs of cut-throats, opened darkly into the ill-lit -square. I had had enough of walking and wanted to -get into a tram, but as usually happens nowadays, -especially when one is in a hurry, the traffic had -come to a standstill and no car appeared. Several -people were waiting at the stopping-place where a -constable, armed with a rifle, was standing on the -edge of the pavement. I looked at my watch. The -tram was due at five and it was already a quarter -past. The constable cursed: “We might loaf here<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -till midnight,” said he, and shifting his rifle on his -shoulder he started to walk off.</p> - -<p>“Can I go with you?” I asked him. The -man nodded and, taking two steps to his one, I -walked along with him. “People will think you are -locking me up,” I laughed.</p> - -<p>“We are going away from the police-station,” he -laughed back. “As a matter of fact it is wise of you -not to walk alone here. People are often attacked. -But it won’t last. The old order will be restored. We -shall soon rid the country of this Galician ministry.” -He began to complain bitterly, cursing the Government -and all the various councils: “They ought all -to be hanged, every one of them.”</p> - -<p>“Do tell me, how did you come to join the -revolution?”</p> - -<p>“I? A few bribed scoundrels misled us. We didn’t -know what we were doing.”</p> - -<p>When I left him I thought that the news that the -police are drifting over to the counter-revolution must -be true. It could hardly be otherwise, seeing that -they are all brave, Hungarian, country-bred lads.</p> - -<p>When I reached the meeting of the leading Protestant -ladies I told them that so long as the various -Christian creeds were fighting separately we should -obtain nothing, but that if they joined hands they -might still save the country, and they all decided to -put all self-interest aside and to save whatever might -still be saved. I felt that the unity which political -parties were trying vainly to attain did already exist -in the women’s souls.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 7th-10th.</i></p> - -<p>This wretched town is continually being convulsed -by riots, and between the riots it howls and destroys, -starves and robs. Its streets are peopled with -Communist demonstrators who march about under the -red flag. From the opposite direction comes a crowd -of patriotic youths under the national flag, and the -two crowds go for each other, tear off each other’s -emblems and break each other’s heads. And while -the crowd is openly turbulent, astonishing things -happen in secret.</p> - -<p>Mackensen has been surrounded by Spahis in Fóth.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -At dawn some French officers entered his room, made -him a prisoner, and gave him half-an-hour in which to -make his preparations, and then, before the sun rose, -and without attracting attention, took him with his -escort by car to Gödöllö. It is said that they are -going to send him somewhere south. Károlyi’s -Government, although it is alleged that the arrest -was made by the Government’s request, has lodged -a protest with the French. The organ of the Freemasons, -<i>Világ</i>, remarked cynically that: “in the -noise of great catastrophies the voice of little individual -tragedies is lost....” Any tragedy is -individual for them when it happens to gentile races, -but whatever touches their race becomes a public -calamity.</p> - -<p>At noon another rumour spread over the town. -Balthasar Láng, one of the props of the War Office, -an old friend of mine, has been arrested.</p> - -<p>Better news had been reaching us for some time. -Counties in the north had begun to organise, and far -from the treasonable Soldiers’ Council, home-defence -committees had been formed. The men folk of the -north-western counties had stood to arms and opposed -the advancing Czechs at Vágselye, but it had -not come to a battle. As soon as the enemy heard -that armed resistance was awaiting him, he turned -in his tracks and retreated.</p> - -<p>Hope rose. It would have been so easy for the -armed Hungarian population to expel the intruders -who refused to face a battle. Baron Láng -was one of the organisers of this plan. It is said -that the president of one of these home-defence committees, -Szmrecsányi, spent the night before his departure -at Láng’s house, and that with traditional -Hungarian carelessness he left his motor waiting all -night in front of the house, so that the secret police -of the Soldiers’ Council got wind of his visit and -reported the matter, and the Soldiers’ Council insisted -on action being taken. At the time, Count Alexander -Festetich, Károlyi’s brother-in-law, had been put at -the head of the War Office to screen the little Jewish -electrician who really ran the show, and this weak -nobleman was obliged to have Láng arrested. He -ordered him to appear before him, and had him detained -on the spot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span></p> - -<p>It was the fate of one man only, but it affected so -many....</p> - -<p>The head of the Soldiers’ Council, Pogány, and the -leaders of the Social Democratic party had long ago -decided the fate of any formal resistance; they -anxiously watched the organisation of measures for -the country’s defence. The Social Democrats had -made it a special point that none but they should -have any armed forces at their disposal. Károlyi and -Festetich did not stand in their way in this matter, -and the military administration withdrew all arms -and munitions from the contingents which had risen -patriotically in the country’s defence. The trains -carrying provisions for them were stopped by Pogány -when ready to start; the troops fed themselves for a -time at their own expense; but the Soldiers’ Council -of Pest would not have this either and sent a number -of its agitators among them.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, discipline began to slacken among the -ranks; the soldiers dismissed their officers, raised the -red flag, and withdrew without the slightest reason -and left the country open to the invading Czechs, -who became intoxicated with their easy success. -After six thousand Hungarian soldiers had surrendered -in Pressburg to one of their regiments, they -crossed the Ipoly river at their ease and occupied -the coal mines of Salgo Tarján. A detachment of -forty men, without firing a shot, planted the Czech -flag on the walls of the impregnable fort of -Komárom....</p> - -<p>These days have pierced the heart of the nation.</p> - -<p>Now it is reported that the Czechs will not stop at -the bend of the Danube. The only cowards of the -World War, the perpetual traitors, are preparing to -occupy Budapest, and nowhere do the bayonets of -Hungarian soldiers advance, while Hungary melts -away. They scatter without order, under the influence -of that terrible eastern eye, which hypnotises -our people and lures the unhappy nation to disgrace.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 11th.</i></p> - -<p>The sky is dark and threatening. On the great -national road which runs from the Carpathians to -the heart of the country the bayonets of Czech<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -soldiers are advancing on the capital, and now for -the first time Bolshevist posters have appeared on -the walls of Budapest. “The Hungarian Communist -Party will hold a mass-meeting....” It -was under the shadow of these ill-omened signs that, -this morning, we unfurled the flag of the National -Association of Hungarian Women.</p> - -<p>In a house on the bank of the Danube, in the rooms -of the Christian Socialist Party, lent for the occasion, -we gathered together without informing the police. -The <i>élite</i> of both the Catholic and the Protestant -world of women was present. Among those who -attended we observed with astonishment some of -Károlyi’s closest relations, who were asking their -acquaintances why we had met and what we were -driving at. Some uneasiness was shown, and to -prevent it spreading Countess Raphael Zichy took -the chair at once and opened the meeting. With a -brevity which admitted of no interruption she communicated -the purpose of the association and informed -us of the agreement between the Protestant -and Catholic camps.</p> - -<p>Consternation was visible among the relations of -Károlyi. Words of discord arose, obviously meant -to destroy the unity which was a threat against the -Government. When the president called on me to -speak I felt that our cause was at stake, and heart -and head alike were possessed with the same inspiration. -I forgot that I was a stranger in the world of -politics, that I had not prepared my speech, that I -had never spoken at a great public meeting before; -I only knew that our cause must prevail; and all my -love for, all my despair over, our people cried out -from my very soul, in my words.</p> - -<p>“I see on the soil of Hungary two churches, -Catholic and Protestant, and over them the Christian -sky of Hungary stretches in eternal majesty. The -soil on which they stand, the sky that is above -them, are our country, our faith. Let these form the -bond between us, my sisters....”</p> - -<p>Till that moment I did not know what marvellous -wings words possessed, but now I was carried away -by my own words, and they carried the others with -me to a point where our souls met.</p> - -<p>“... We cannot walk separate paths, we who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -seek to walk the path marked out by Christ! Let us -love one another and walk hand in hand, Christian -women! Hand in hand!”</p> - -<p>Eternal love and gratitude filled my heart at this -moment, and my voice had more than mere words -in it: “That which has never before happened in our -country shall happen now—we, Protestant and -Catholic women, shall be united this day, we whose -sole desire it is that Hungary shall be Hungarian -and Christian.”</p> - -<p>The objections of the ladies belonging to -Károlyi’s party were lost in the general acclamation, -and the National Association of Hungarian women -emerged from the obscurity of weeks of struggle and -came out into the open as the counter-revolution of -the women, in defence of their faith, their country -and their homes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 12th.</i></p> - -<p>The papers that used to be Conservative published -the news of our association and its manifesto, but -made no comments on them.</p> - -<p>I told Joseph Vészi, the editor-in-chief of the -<i>Pester Lloyd</i>, that we were on the defensive and -did not intend to attack. His sense of justice inspired -him to say: “I shall publish your appeal, and I -think it is natural that you should organise on a -Christian and national basis, because Hungary was -ruined by Jews—not by <i>the</i> Jews—but by Jews. -Five hundred Jews.... I say so, though I am a Jew -myself.”</p> - -<p>I noted these words, not as a testimony to me, -but as an admission!</p> - -<p>I have no doubt that there are many Jews who -think the same. But surely they do a great wrong -to their own people by not branding such among -them as “black sheep,” especially at a time when -they alone have the right to speak and protest in the -interest of the country.</p> - -<p>The Socialist press passed over the manifesto in -silence.</p> - -<p>When I started out a wintry storm was howling over -the houses. Count Stephen Bethlen had convoked -another meeting for five o’clock in the House of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -Franciscans. Up in the dark sky black clouds raced -along like fearsome witches. Only a few street lamps -were alight, and the rattling of their panes in the -wind sounded as if their teeth were chattering. The -whole town was thronging to the first mass-meeting -of the communists. Above the houses the eternal -flags were flapping wildly, their green and white -parts so begrimed that now only the red was showing -like a blotch of blood. In the dirty streets scraps of -paper and dirt were whirled about, and the wind -almost blew people off their legs.</p> - -<p>When I came to the big mansion, which faces on to -two streets, armed soldiers were standing at the -entrance, with red cockades on their caps. They -stared hard at me, and when I got inside I was told -that there were soldiers at the other entrance too.</p> - -<p>“They are watching us....”</p> - -<p>Count Bethlen again raised the question of unity.</p> - -<p>“Foreign bayonets are marching on the capital; -don’t let it be said that we couldn’t agree until we -were under their very shadow.”</p> - -<p>Hours passed in hopeless, sterile discussion. All -the time I could not help thinking how the socialists -in the Workers’ Council had by now practically -joined forces with the Communists, and that while -we were unable to come to an agreement they were -probably howling in unison at their general meeting -for the destruction of our country, faith and homes.</p> - -<p>In all my life I was never more despondent. As -a last hope I got up and said that the Christian -women had already joined together, and that we -were now all in one camp and only waiting to be -able to join with the united parties.</p> - -<p>“Long live the ladies!” shouted the whole room, -but again nothing happened, and the meeting dispersed -without having come to any decision—just -like the time before.</p> - -<p>When I left, the soldiers were no longer loafing -near the entrance. A rabble crowded the streets, -and an acquaintance whom I met said to me:</p> - -<p>“Do you see this mob? It has come from the mass-meeting, -where it has been listening to the Communists’ -speeches.”</p> - -<p>The meeting started as a demonstration and ended -by becoming the occasion for the unfurling of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -Communist banner. At the request of Lieut.-Colonel -Vyx the police had handed over nine Russian -Bolshevik Jews to the French, and they had been -expelled. A part of the population of Budapest now -gets up a demonstration in favour of these nine -foreigners, though it made not the slightest protest -when Károlyi delivered several millions of Hungarians -to the Czechs, Serbians and Roumanians. Jewish -officers with red cockades organised the meeting, -and the people of the ghetto were thronging there -among disbanded soldiers, Galileist students, apprentices, -and crazy women. The whole place was -crammed with a human stream primed with hatred. -The galleries creaked under their weight, and in the -corridors a crowded-out throng shouted furiously.</p> - -<p>On the platform the red phalanx of the Communist -leaders surrounded Béla Kún, who opened the -meeting and spoke of the revolution of the world’s -proletariat and the counter-revolution of the -capitalist order, the two forces which, according to -his materialistic views, are fighting a death struggle -in Europe to-day. He attacked the Government because -it had delivered up the red “comrades” and -because it was hindering the westward advance of -the Soviet Republic. Then he referred with -enthusiasm to the struggle of the German Spartacists, -speaking of them almost reverently.</p> - -<p>“Long live the Spartacists, we’re Spartacists -too!” the soldiers shouted frantically: “we’re all -Bolsheviks!”</p> - -<p>“Our first duty is to arm!” shouted Béla Kún. -Then he bellowed into the hall: “Lenin makes an -appeal to you through me!” At the mention of -Lenin’s name the whole gathering rose. Women -applauded like furies. “Lenin sends you this -message: ‘change the war of imperialism into an international -class-war!’”</p> - -<p>Somebody shouted “Death to the Bourgeoisie!” -and the whole hall took up the cry. Then there was -an interruption. The Red soldiery would not allow -Garbai, the Socialist leader, to speak. Béla Kún, -shouting from the top of the table, tried to make -order: “If a bourgeois came to speak here, I should -be the first to say ‘throw him out of the window;’ but -Comrade Garbai has come from the other camp of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -the workers, with whom we have yet to join up in our -fight for freedom.”</p> - -<p>Comrade Garbai said something to the same effect: -“The Socialists and the Communists agree on every -point: their aims and their enemies are the same, but -the time has not yet come.”</p> - -<p>Vágó shouted in a hoarse voice: “The Communists -want no freedom of speech, no democracy; arm the -whole proletariat, disarm the bourgeoisie, proclaim -the Soviet Republic!...”</p> - -<p>I thought of the meeting of Hungarian gentlemen -I had just left.</p> - -<p>The wind howled round me, the flags tore at their -staffs and fluttered wildly over the dark streets; -their folds became entangled and they struggled as -if desperate hands were wrung above the people’s -heads.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 13th.</i></p> - -<p>I have been working the whole day long, at work -that is new to me. In the office of our Association I -have been racking my brain with details of organisation. -I drew up handbills and wrote innumerable -letters, though I hate writing letters. In the evening -we met in the Zichy palace and decided that in any -event we would prepare a memorandum of protest -on the part of the women, so that it should be ready -when the missions of the Entente arrived. Count -Klebelsberg brought forward a draft, ready for -translation into foreign languages.... Time passed, -and we started home.</p> - -<p>Nowadays it is rare to get a cab, and if one happens -to meet one one may well say one’s prayers before -entering it. During the last spell of darkness a -soldier climbed on to the box of a cab in which -were two ladies. He and the driver were accomplices. -The horses were whipped up and the cab was driven -at a mad gallop through lonely suburban streets, -towards the cemetery. Fortunately the ladies -jumped out, and so escaped; but goodness knows -how that night would have ended for them if they -had not.</p> - -<p>Countess Zichy sent me home in her own carriage.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -Klebelsberg got out in the Inner town and I drove -on alone. When we reached the Rákoczi Road all the -street lamps were suddenly extinguished. The dark -street gaped and swallowed us up.</p> - -<p>There was shooting everywhere, and the horses -became restless. I could feel that the coachman was -frightened: indeed the night seemed full of terror. -We arrived at a gallop at my house, and I saw that -my mother’s window was open. Regardless of the -cold she was sitting at it waiting for me, and now -called down to the coachman: “There is a riot near -the Popular Theatre, don’t go in that direction.”</p> - -<p>The man thanked her for the warning, and the -clatter of hoofs died away in the opposite direction, -turning so suddenly that it seemed the very horses -were aware of the danger.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 14th.</i></p> - -<p>Our destiny has been decided for us in secret, in -whispers within the walls of Pest. And the houses -where this whispering has been going on have paid -the penalty: their grimy fronts are branded with -the mark of the beast. The very customs and manners -of the times are designed for the masses, and obtrude -themselves like prostitutes in the street. Modesty and -discretion no longer exist. It is probably for the -same reason that the world of art and letters now -produces only works meant for the masses. Epochs -are known by their arts. Our age has posters—and -viler, baser posters than those of to-day, whether on -paper or in the shape of men, have never existed.</p> - -<p>As I stepped out into the street this morning it did -me good, after all the pasted-up horrors, to see the -posters of the League for the Defence of Territorial -Integrity, showing on a red background the split-up -map of Hungary. This map showed the ancient -kingdom cut up into five pieces, and in the midst of -the provinces despoiled by Czecho-Slovakia, Yugo-Slavia, -Roumania and Austria, there appeared the -tiny little land that remains to us, a land incapable -of existence, the plain deprived of its forests and its -mines. And underneath, as though the crippled -land, robbed of three million Hungarian sons, were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> -crying out, three words were printed: “No, no, -never!”</p> - -<p>The streets, the houses, the walls proclaimed it, -and after endless weeks I felt for the first time at -home again in this town, which had denied everything -that goes to make up my faith. Is Budapest -recovering its sanity? My hope was suddenly torn -to shreds. Near a bare tree of the boulevard a well-dressed -young man bent down and scooped up some -mud with his hands; then ... he walked up to the -wall and flung it all over the poster.</p> - -<p>The blood rushed to my head. “How dare you!” -I cried. The young man turned round. I shall never -forget his face; it was drawn in Palestine two -thousand years ago.</p> - -<p>“What are you talking about? There’s no such -thing as ‘my country,’” he said vindictively.</p> - -<p>Instinctively I looked round—was there nobody to -take this scoundrel by the throat? But the passers-by -went on unheeding. I don’t remember what I -said, but I don’t think I have ever felt so angry -before. It was all so humiliating. I had never -realised so clearly, so frightfully, what it was they -wanted. No country! <i>They</i> have none, so they -intend that we shall have none either.</p> - -<p>Are the Jews going to outlive us too, because they -will not die for the land? All my national instincts -rebelled. They shall not outlive us! Their time will -come. They are only mortal, for they want a -country—they want <i>our</i> country. The life of peoples -is like the life of individuals. They have their childhood, -their youth, their manhood and their old age. -Humanity has deprived the Jewish people of the -flowering time of youth and manhood. Their race -has aged unsatisfied while it has buried its contemporaries—Egyptians, -Assyrians, Babylonians. It has -seen Athens, Rome, and Byzantium die, though it -was old when it stood at their cradles. Without contemporaries, -alone, a stranger, it has remained -among us, and it cannot yet die, for it must await -its destiny. And now, even when the nations had -begun to deal kindly with it, it celebrates its wasted -flowering-time in a horrible dance of death.</p> - -<p>The Wandering Jew paints his face young, and -indulges in orgies on the edge of the grave.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 15th-27th.</i></p> - -<p>At the corner of a street I met a couple, a girl and -a man. The fair face of the girl was familiar to me. -She wore her hair after the Bolshevik fashion and -her eyes stared curiously while she talked. Suddenly -I remembered her: it was Maria Goszthonyi. She -looked untidy, her boots were down at heel, her -skirt was ragged and she wore no gloves though -it was bitterly cold. Her companion had black -gloves and was dressed entirely in black, and as he -had black hair too he was a most mournful-looking -object. His narrow shoulders bent forward and his -back looked humped; he hadn’t really got a hump, -but his face gave one the impression of a hunchback -as well. He was remarkably pale, and only his big, -Jewish nose shone red in his face between his dark -eyes. How did a girl like this come to be in his -company?</p> - -<p>They had passed me while I was still thinking of -them and casually I noticed the name of the street I -was in, Visegrad Street. The editorial offices of the -<i>Red News</i> were in this street and it was a hotbed of -Communists, who gathered here for their meetings.</p> - -<p>I had heard a lot about Maria Goszthonyi lately. -She had learned Russian within the last few years -and had translated several Communist works, and -under the influence of two Jewish friends, one of -them the son of a rich banker, had professed -Syndicalist principles. She had some trouble during -the war because in the hospital in which she worked -as a voluntary nurse she taught Communist doctrines -to the wounded soldiers. It is also said that -during the stormy days of October she made propagandist -speeches in one of the camps of Russian -prisoners. She had said one day to a friend of mine: -“We shall soon be fighting over barricades in these -streets.” Since then she had often been seen with -Béla Kún at Communistic meetings. The last time -I had spoken to her she had been a mere child. Her -parents had brought her up in their castle, carefully -guarded, spoilt, and she seemed an artistically -inclined, bright young girl. Her mother is patriotic -and fond of music, and the best musicians used to -stay at their house; her father runs a model farm.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> -How could a girl like that fall into the company of -the Communists? There are epidemics of a spiritual -nature too in this world! The war itself was one -epidemic, and Bolshevism is another. There is a -serious spread of the disease at Berlin at present. -Its two most violent propagators have been killed, -Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, and because -the woman was the more gifted of the two and had -a greater gift for hatred, her destructive spirit was -more efficient than his. While Liebknecht organised -the German Spartacists he was the link between the -revolutionary Jews of Russia and Germany. These -two combined with the criminal classes and stirred up -the Berlin rabble against the townspeople, for they -wanted civil war, and to be masters of ruined -Germany. Now the rage of the mob has torn Rosa -Luxemburg to pieces, and Liebknecht, who egged on -others to face death while he hid under an assumed -name, ran when his turn came to show courage—and -was shot as he ran.</p> - -<p>The Berlin papers said that neither of them knew -the limit where political strife ended and criminal -action began, but the Hungarian supporters of the -Government wrote: “The fate of these two is perilously -like to that of the Nazarene.... This day -two saints, with the halo of martyrs, have been enshrined -in the history of communism....”</p> - -<p>The whole existence, foundation, and teaching of -communism is based on class-hatred, which means -fratricide. Christ’s teaching is love itself. There -is no bridge over the gulf separating the two. His -kingdom is not of this world, theirs is all of this -world and brushes aside all that is not of this world. -They take everything, He gave everything. The -Nazarene died for them too, and now they crucify -Him anew.</p> - -<p>At the commemorative service organised by the -Communists, Béla Kún and his comrades insulted -the teachings of Christ. Foaming at the mouth, they -pointed towards the portraits of Rosa Luxemburg -and Liebknecht, carried about on poles, called on -the crowd for vengeance and vomited such hatred as -has never before been heard in this town. At first -Béla Kún impressed the mob, then, all of a sudden, -it turned against him. He shouted from the platform:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -“We too are threatened with their fate. But -we vow that even if we are drawn and quartered we -shall continue to walk along the road on which they -led.”</p> - -<p>Somebody in the crowd shouted: “Are you going -to walk when you’ve been drawn and quartered?” -The crowd roared with laughter. It was no good -after that to shout “Comrades, don’t weep!” for -nobody was weeping, and the speech, meant to produce -revolutionary fury, burst like a soap-bubble -over the people’s head.</p> - -<p>To-day it bursts, to-day they laugh. But on the -quiet the Government is playing the Communists’ -game. A short time ago a Communist agitator, -Tibor Szamuelly, was arrested on a charge of murder. -A Lieutenant-Colonel, back from captivity, deposed -that this man, who as a prisoner of war in Russia -had been one of Trotski’s confidants, had ordered -the execution of a hundred and fifty Hungarian -officers because they refused to join the Red guards. -This Communist Szamuelly had not spent three days -in prison when, at the intervention of Károlyi, the -proceedings against him were quashed and he was -released.</p> - -<p>Another chink in the screen behind which the -devilish work is being carried on.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>January 25th-26th.</i></p> - -<p>It almost seems as if the terrible eye of the magician -who has kept the town in bondage is beginning to -lose its power. The country tied to the stake is freeing -its hands from its fetters and a great awakening -is stirring over the Plain.</p> - -<p>News pours in. The Roumanians have retired before -the Székler bands, and on their retreat they are -robbing and destroying, but Kis-Sebes and Bánffy-Hunyad -are ours again, and they are packing up in -Kolozsvár. The Hungarian forces have appealed to -the War Office for help. This is the moment to act, -for it is now easy to repel the invading foe. Transylvanian -Magyardom has declared a general strike. -All officials of state, post office, and telegraphs have -stopped work, and thirty-two thousand miners have -laid down their tools in sympathy with the patriotic -movement. It is so, although the Government says -that it is a victory for Social Democracy; but in -Transylvania it is not the Internationale which is -fighting, but a people patriotically defending its -very existence.</p> - -<p>The position of the Roumanians is becoming -dangerous in Transylvania and their soldiers are -beginning to desert and go home. It is as though -the breeze of a new awakening is coming from over -the snow-clad mountains and is blowing to flame the -embers that have been smouldering all over the -country.</p> - -<p>If only the Government were to help now! But -the Government won’t. It stamps out the flames, -strangles all words of patriotism and strikes the -weapons from Hungarian hands.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span></p> - -<p>The Jewish electrician, who is Minister of War, intends -to leave the Hungarians of Transylvania to -their fate and denounces the patriotism of our last -reliable troops. When a detachment of the Budapest -chasseurs went to Salgó Tarján he called it the -glorious army of Social Democracy, and when the -soldiers went off he said to them: “Go and defend -our coal, our water, so that we may live.” Only -our coal, our water ... there is no need to defend -the country.</p> - -<p>Those who speak and act in our name to-day are -not Hungarians. This is a life and death struggle, a -desperate fight between a people bled to death and a -race that has been allowed to breed too freely—a new -kind of war. A short time ago our defeat seemed -certain: the Hungarian people made no resistance -because its faith had been killed, but now the faith -has revived. Its feeble flames had been carried -quietly back into the homes by women. And perhaps -the time has come at last when the men will want to -prove their bravery to those who expect them to be -brave.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>January 27th-February 3rd.</i></p> - -<p>It is a good time for prophets just now. When -life becomes unbearable and every moment a torture, -in despair men snatch at prophecies and look to the -future. Every day new prophets and prophetesses -appear. Their oracles are published by the newspapers -and spread by word of mouth. Fear longs to -be alleviated. Somebody says “It is possible;” the -next repeats it as “I believe;” and with the third it -becomes “I know.” The sufferers are not content -to stop there, however, but proceed to fix a time-limit -for the realisation of their predictions. At one -moment they are concerned with the impending -rising of the Communists, at another with the outbreak -of the counter-revolution.</p> - -<p>The beginning of the Red Revolution was predicted -for to-day, but it has been postponed. Now it -is fixed for the 5th of February. People comfort -each other by saying that within two hours the -Spahis stationed in the neighbourhood can be -brought to town and that there is no need to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -alarmed. Others have reliable information that on -the 6th or the 9th our party will begin its long-prepared -offensive. In the streets the <i>agents-provocateurs</i> -of Pogány ask young men: “Are you -thinking of the 9th of February?” then add in a -whisper: “We meet to-night behind the Museum.” -And while the surface bubbles in this fashion, both we -and they are doing really serious work in the depths -below.</p> - -<p>The young people in town are ready and so are the -awakening Hungarians, the Széklers and the Transylvanian -Hungarians. Our <i>liaisons</i> with the -countryside are established. We have weapons and -determination and are exasperated beyond endurance. -But it is vital that all these organisations -should start action at the same moment, for we must -not waste our ammunition on sporadic shots; it must -be a volley. One hour must strike for all of us.</p> - -<p>There is great tension in the air. In Károlyi’s -camp they are conscious of our surreptitious preparations -and Károlyi fears them more than the -constantly increasing agitation of the Communists. -The possibilities of our movement are more hateful -to him and cause him more anxiety than the activity -of Béla Kún, although the Communists are not particular -what tools they use, and are now agitating -quite openly. Here in the capital they are making -use of a curious trick. From mid-January on, their -street orators have been advising the mob not to pay -any rent to the landlords on next quarter day, i.e., -February 1st. Why should they? Are not the -houses theirs? Fortunately the majority of the -people kept their heads, and only about some -twenty tenants in the suburbs refused to pay rent, so -the riots and the projected Communist rising did -not come off, for the present at any rate.</p> - -<p>“It has failed this time,” said John Hock, the -President of the National Council, to one of my friends, -“but the Red terror is bound to come in Hungary! -It will last about two years, and then the old set, -whom we kicked out in October, will have to restore -order.”</p> - -<p>The recovery of Balassa Gyarmat from the Czechs -sounded like the clatter of a sword among the vague -prophecies and uncertainties of our present life. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -sword was drawn by Aladár Huszár and George -Pongrácz, and at the cost of many heroic lives a -handful of brave railwaymen, artisans, and students, -and the peasants of nine villages, drove the Czechs -back over the Ipoly.</p> - -<p>But this hope did not last. Under pretence of helping, -Pogány rushed down there and frustrated the -progress which the Czechs had failed to stop. After -a flare-up, out goes the flame again. Hope was badly -wounded yesterday in Fehérvár too, where there was -a county meeting at the County Hall, which, at the -proposal of Károlyi’s own brother, passed a vote of -lack of confidence in the present Government, -demanded the re-establishment of the King and the -immediate convocation of the old parliament. For -those who were present this meant nothing but well-intentioned -waving of hats and shaking of fists, but -for the country, which was out for a real fight with -the forces of destruction, it was a tragedy; for it -gave the alarm to the Government, clinging to its -ill-got illegal power. To-morrow it will be thirsting -for vengeance, and I’m afraid that the preparation of -the counter-revolution will meet with new difficulties.</p> - -<p>People talk bitterly of the Fehérvár incident, -where the idea seems to prevail that a counter-revolution -ought to be started to the sound of bands, -with the waving of flags and the beating of the big -drum. If every remaining county of the country had -convoked, secretly, however illegally, a general -assembly for the same day, and all these had voted -against the Government, then the result would not -have been this miserable fiasco.</p> - -<p>What has been the result? Károlyi has commissioned -Joseph Pogány to crush every attempt at -a counter-revolution, the country’s Government delegates -have been dismissed, officials have had to take -the oath to the government or leave, and Károlyi’s -brother has had to climb down. Thus ends the -affair so far as he is concerned, but for those who are -working at the dangerous task of drawing the whole -country into the meshes of the counter-revolution -and of making its outbreak simultaneous everywhere, -the consequences are disastrous. We shall have to -start anew and build up what had been wantonly -destroyed. One plan was that the county of Jász-Nagy-Kún<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -should proclaim a separate republic and -secede from Károlyi’s republic. This would have -been the signal for the other counties to follow, -leaving Budapest to itself and refusing to supply it -with food, so that the starving town would have -driven out its degrading tyrants of its own accord. -But that is impossible now. A new way will have -to be found, and the task will be heavy, for our -enemies will be on the alert. At the last meeting of -the Soldiers’ Council Pogány proclaimed: “The -revolution is in danger. Let the leaders and accomplices -of the counter-revolution beware, for the well-meaning -patience of the Soldiers’ and the Workers’ -masses has been exhausted. As long as possible—patience; -when necessity requires it—machine guns.” -And he gave orders to his secret police to search the -houses of those implicated.</p> - -<p>Yesterday Countess Louis Batthyány mentioned -to me that she had written a confidential letter to -her brother, Count Julius Andrássy, in Switzerland, -and my thoughts flew to this letter when I -heard this morning that houses were being searched in -the town. If it were found! A Transylvanian friend -telephoned to me early this morning and said: “I -have had visitors, they will probably come to you -too. You’d better make preparations, because they’re -very inquisitive; they even look up the chimney.” -Again I heard that curious buzzing sound in the telephone -which has happened lately whenever I have -been called up. I myself can never get a connection -now-a-days, for though the exchange answers it -never connects me. I wrote and reported this, and -an electrician came and inspected the apparatus; -apparently everything was in order, yet when I -wanted to call up somebody the same thing happened -again.</p> - -<p>The exchange cut off the connection while my -friend was speaking to me. I did not hesitate long. -I took my papers and recent correspondence and -burnt everything which could have betrayed our -purpose, my friends or myself. I often used to -wonder why precious letters and documents of -certain periods had disappeared. There are many -letters of Szécsényi, Kossuth and Görgei which -might well have been preserved for posterity. And<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -while I was burning the letters addressed to me, one -by one, and throwing their ashes into the stove so -that no trace might be left in the open fireplace, I -understood why the political correspondence of -dangerous times had disappeared. There are many -other details of Hungary’s stormy past which have -become clear to me now. Among other things I understand -why we have so few diaries and memoirs. For -four hundred years our noblest spirits were watched -by Austrian spies; and while in other countries innumerable -hands recorded freely the lives of their -great contemporaries, with us, at the best, only the -great political declarations have been preserved. It -was like this long ago, and now it is worse still, for -worse and more impudent spies are about us now -than the informers of the Austrian <i>regîme</i>.</p> - -<p>When I had just finished my sad task I heard the -bell in the ante-room. Then I remembered these -notes. I snatched them up from my writing-table -and hid them between my books. But it was only -my Transylvanian friend arriving. Her face, always -sad of late, wore a new expression. She looked round -my room: “Have they been here too?” she asked, -and then began to laugh. It was the laughter of a -mischievous child who has escaped detection. “They -found nothing at my place.” she said laughing again. -“They came early in the morning, with soldiers. I -was still in bed, and they wanted to break in the -door. I shouted that I was dressing and that a -revolver was lying on my table, and meanwhile I -threw into a portmanteau whatever I could think of—the -list of names of the Széklers’ National Council, -the members’ list of the National Association of -Hungarian Women, and their pamphlets—and -through an unguarded door the bag disappeared -from my room. I didn’t mind the police coming in -then; they searched everything—me too—but they -didn’t find anything of importance.”</p> - -<p>In high spirits we went to the offices of the Association, -where we found the secretary at her table, -surrounded by a number of ladies. Practically everybody -whose house had been searched that morning -had come there and everybody had a different tale -to tell. When they were searching Countess -Batthyány’s library a list of names fell out of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -volume, a list of the lady patronesses of a ball held -some years ago. They pocketed it promptly: it -contained the names they were hunting for.</p> - -<p>“How about the letter to Count Andrássy?”</p> - -<p>“Fortunately the messenger came for it last -evening. I shouldn’t have liked them to lay their -hands on that....”</p> - -<p>The little office was filled with the spirit of winning -gamblers. We concluded that the domiciliary visits -had been a failure. I went home with my mind at -rest. But that afternoon I had another visitor, -Count Emil Dessewffy, whose house had been -searched too.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you got over it without trouble,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Dessewffy, “but,”—and he took his -single eyeglass out of his eye, then replaced it suddenly—“but -there has been a slight misfortune. -The searchers found nothing implicating anybody. -They took only one letter—yours!”</p> - -<p>At first I did not know what letter he referred to. -Then I remembered. I had written to Dessewffy in -connection with the women’s memorandum, when I -had been knocked off the tram and was ill, and in it -I had written about Kingship, about the crown. I -had passed judgment on men and events and had -mentioned and stigmatised Károlyi, Jászi, Hock, -Kunfi, Pogány and the whole Social Democracy of -Budapest, as being the protagonists of Bolshevik -world-rule. I remembered that even when I sent -the letter it occurred to me that if it fell into the -wrong hands it would entail retaliation.</p> - -<p>Dessewffy seemed more upset about it than I.</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry,” I said, “at least they will know -what I think of them.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 9th.</i></p> - -<p>And they did know.</p> - -<p>It happened quicker than I expected. From the -hands of the Police my letter passed into those of the -Socialist party’s secretariat and thence to Joseph -Pogány. I got reliable information of the whole -thing—someone came to see me this morning. He -asked me never to mention his name, and told me to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -be careful, as I was being watched and my telephone -conversations listened to.</p> - -<p>In town more and more requisitions are being -made, and there have been many arrests, among -others one of the leaders of the Awakening -Hungarians, some officials of the War Office, the -organisers of the armed force of the Territorial’s -Defence League, and Madame Sztankay, one of the -bravest women of the counter-revolution; all have -been sent to prison. The stone cast by the County -meeting of Fehérvár has made wider and wider rings.</p> - -<p>The Social Democrats are destroying with feverish -haste everything that has been built up by generations -of Hungarians. Jászi has dismissed the Rector -and the Dean of the University, while Kunfi attacks -the elementary and other schools. The teaching -of religion is abolished, patriotism is banished from -the schools, and the national anthem prohibited. -The books used for the teaching of history in the -schools are ‘expurgated’ of everything that entitled -Hungarians to take a pride in their past, and while -this is going on the head of the Budapest communal -schools informs the teachers by circular that: “those -who cannot, or will not, conform to the spirit of -these times, must take the consequences and stand -aside.” It has all been done suddenly: the events of -the last few days have urged the usurping powers to -furious haste, and they are employing every possible -shift to make sure of the future—for themselves.</p> - -<p>Life becomes more and more difficult every day, -and more and more people are taking refuge abroad. -The rich Jews have long ago sent their treasures out -of the country and have gone into safety themselves. -It is amusing and characteristic that -Countess Károlyi’s pearls have emigrated too, and -it has even been said of Károlyi himself that, under -the pretence of furthering the peace negotiations, he -also would like to go to—safer climes. But the -powers of the Entente informed him that they had -no wish to negotiate with him.</p> - -<p>The mined ground trembles—anywhere is safer -than here.</p> - -<p>Count Ladislaus Széchenyi and his wife came to -take leave of me, and at this parting I was conscious -of the fate which they were escaping and which still<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -hangs over me. My heart was heavy; Countess -Széchenyi, who used to be Gladys Vanderbilt, had -been for years one of my dearest friends, and now -the town will seem empty without her. “I shall do -everything that is possible, out there, for -Hungary....” she told me consolingly. I knew -she would, for, though she was foreign born, in the -hours of our greatest trials she was more patriotically -Hungarian than many of her companions who were -Hungarian by birth.</p> - -<p>“God speed you, Gladys ... shall we ever meet -again?”</p> - -<p>I got out of their carriage at a street corner and -we took leave in the street. It was raining, and I suddenly -felt as if myriads of thin, cold, slimy cobwebs -were surrounding me and holding me captive, while -their carriage broke through the threads of rain and -disappeared before my eyes.... They are gone....</p> - -<p>I looked out of the window, and outside the snow -was now coming down in big flakes. It is falling -heavily, deep soft snow, for many, many miles -around, covering the roads which lead to happier -countries.</p> - -<p>How I yearned for far-away things—roads, free -roads, beauty, music, peaceful nights, warm rooms!... -It lasted but an instant, and then I shook it -off; I had to go to the other shore of the Danube, -where, in a dark house, behind drawn curtains, in -an unwarmed room, women were waiting for me to -address them.</p> - -<p>Off I went, and behind me, just a step behind me, -there came the new law. From this day on, any -person attempting to change the republican form of -Government is liable to fifteen years’ hard labour; -the instigators and leaders of such a movement will -go to penal servitude for life. But those who report -matters in time shall go free and be duly rewarded.</p> - -<p>A white whirlwind swept over the frozen Danube. -I went on. The road was long ... the law followed -and caught me not.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 10th.</i></p> - -<p>The door of my room opened quietly, and the little -German maid looked in frightened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span></p> - -<p>“They’ve come again. I have tried to send them -away, but they won’t go....”</p> - -<p>This is quite the usual thing nowadays. I jumped -up from my writing-desk and went across the cold -drawing-room. There was no lamp in the ante-room, -and in the gloom I saw two soldiers and a civilian -near the door.</p> - -<p>“What do you want? Me? From the Housing -Office? But you have been over our flat before!”</p> - -<p>They refused to be denied. Fortunately my -mother was out of the way and did not meet them -while they were looking over the place. When we -reached my room the civilian produced a note-book -and bent over it in the lamplight on the writing-table. -For some minutes he searched for something -in his book, then turned to me suddenly with suspicion -in his eyes:</p> - -<p>“Is this your room?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“We come from the police. We must search it.”</p> - -<p>An unpleasant tremor went through me.</p> - -<p>“By what right?” I was on the point of asking, -but I thought better of it. I remembered the hidden -silver. The best thing would be to show no opposition—“After -all, if those are your orders....” and -I handed him my keys. One went in this direction, -another in that, and I had to keep my eyes on the -hands and pockets of all three. Meanwhile I remembered -with extraordinary rapidity everything I had -forgotten to burn. In awful anguish I thought of -these notes, behind the books. What if they found -them? I was thinking so intently about this that I -was afraid they might read my face. Suppose my -thoughts were to guide them!... One of the -soldiers looked into the stove and at the same -moment I caught sight of the other extracting cigarettes -from a small box and stuffing them into his -pockets. The civilian sat down at the table and -pulled out a drawer.</p> - -<p>“Do you know anything about the organisation -of the counter-revolution?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered ... “I got it from the -columns of ‘The People’s Voice.’” (this is the -Socialist’s own paper.)</p> - -<p>The stupid round eyes of the man stared at me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -and suddenly I began to feel dangerously gay. I -took heart and was almost grateful to them for being -so conveniently superficial. Why not give them all -my cigarettes? What nonsense! I pulled myself -together and straightened my face.</p> - -<p>A bundle of letters lay on my table and the man -took them up one after the other. Then he turned -the pages of a little book which mother had been -reading yesterday, Albach’s <i>Heilige Anklänge</i>. -Suddenly I was seized with disgust. I wanted to be -rude. How dare these strangers touch my things -like this and obliterate the contact of beloved hands! -They come in, open the cupboards, fumble, search, -and all this in “the golden age of the people’s -liberty,” just because I am Hungarian.</p> - -<p>When the three varlets left after searching in vain -I felt hopelessly tired. I opened the window and kept -it open all the evening just to air the room.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 11th-13th.</i></p> - -<p>Even in my dreams my worries pursue me. I -know it, because when I wake with a start I find -myself planning, planning, planning. Why can I -never rest in peace?</p> - -<p>How people’s minds alter nowadays! In October -it was all dazed depression. In November black -despair. In December something that was distantly -akin to hope. Then came the period of words, I -made speeches, spreading my own fire. Later the -order of the day was action. Now the sphere is more -restricted. We must do something, quickly, -unanimously, because if we don’t act they will, and all -that the Hungarian politicians do is to hold -meetings, consult, think of their party, of themselves; -even in this awful storm it is impossible to -create unity. Don’t they feel how they have sinned -in the past against the nation? Don’t they realise -that they owe it reparation?</p> - -<p>Count Stephen Bethlen’s plan, the idea of a great, -national collaboration, has suffered shipwreck after -a lot of talk. Instead of unfurling the great flag of -unity the number of little flags has been increased by -one: the camp of Bethlen has been isolated from the -others.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span></p> - -<p>The Hungarian people are snipping tiny flags from -the three national colours, while against them the -Internationalists hoist a single flag dipped in blood, -and round us, over all our frontiers, the Czechs, -Serbians and Roumanians pour in, each united under -its own single banner.</p> - -<p>In this great, hopeless discord, the women, be it -said to their honour, have found a bond of union, not -only in the capital but in the country-side too. The -post-office refuses to forward our appeals, but they -are carried by hand by brave women, honest railway-men, -and engine drivers. Hidden in villages, terrorised -towns, in hundreds and hundreds of families, -there flickers the little flame that we have lit....</p> - -<p>It is this which angers and worries the usurpers. -The great eastern eye whose spell has been unable to -subdue us, watches us wickedly. Wherever we go, -it follows us, spies on us, threatens us. The other -day when I was at the house of a friend, armed -soldiers took possession of the staircase, a watch -was placed in her ante-room, and finally the place -was searched.</p> - -<p>In our home too we get a queer lot of visitors. -Yesterday two soldiers wanted to come in. The -maid, whom I have forbidden to open the door to -anybody, asked them what they wanted. They enquired -whether this was not an office, and whether -we had the telephone laid on. The girl answered -through the closed door that this was her ladyship -Madame Tormay’s flat, not an office.</p> - -<p>“There are no more ladyships,” they shouted -back. The girl went away and left them there, and -for a long time they continued ringing and knocking -the door.</p> - -<p>This morning when I went to say good morning to -my mother I found a young Jew in uniform standing -at the door of my room. We never discovered how -he got in.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“I have come to requisition lodgings.”</p> - -<p>At this I lost all control over myself.</p> - -<p>“Enough of that,” I exclaimed. “Clear out!”</p> - -<p>He looked at me rather frightened, and began to -stutter.</p> - -<p>“There is not a day that you don’t intrude here,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -I went on. “This is our home, all that is left to us. -Leave it alone!”</p> - -<p>He collected his papers quickly and went away. -I had a presentiment afterwards that this young -man would give us trouble for having been shown -the door, so I went to my mother and told her what -had happened. She laughed and replied, “I showed -one the door the other day too.” That decided me -to go to the Housing Office and to obtain, somehow -or other, protection for our house.</p> - -<p>After a fight I managed to get on a tram. At this -time the Housing Office under the direction of the -Social Democrat Garbai had already taken up its -quarters in the House of Parliament, where the -Lords used to sit.</p> - -<p>The beautiful marble staircase of the House of -Parliament was indescribably dirty. Its walls were -besmeared with coloured pencil scrawls, and red -inscriptions defiled the columns, such as “Long live -the republic!” “Long live Social Democracy!” -All their offices are like that. Public buildings sink -with incredible rapidity into this dirty state. I have -not been there myself but was told by people who -have that the royal castle, the so called national -palace, is as unswept and filthy as a railway station -in the Balkans. In the small drawing-room of Maria -Theresa cigarette ends and sausage skins litter the -floor. The beautiful old stoves are nearly burst with -the coal that is crammed into them, the walls around -them are stained with smoke, the valuable old tables -are covered with ink blotches, and at them our new -administrators sit in their shirt sleeves.</p> - -<p>I stood hesitating for a moment in the bespattered -corridor of the House of Parliament. People rushed -past me, but nobody could give me any information, -so I knocked at a door haphazard and entered an untidy -office. A tall unkempt man was bending over a -writing-table, a fat one stood beside him, and there -were some others lounging about. They sent me -away, so I went into the next room, and found the -same type of people, who spoke to me just as sharply -and also sent me away. Corridors, ante-rooms, -offices, offices and offices again, and everywhere the -same type of face—as if they had all been cast in the -same mould.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span></p> - -<p>I went on, though I now began to feel uncomfortable, -and very lonely; I felt as though I had been -abandoned among these strangers. It was only then -that I realised what was happening in the public -offices of Hungary. My discomfort changed into -fear, and I began to run but could not find my way -out. My head began to reel, and I staggered out into -the corridor. The stairs were opposite me, and I -rushed down them and met a commissionaire at -the bottom. He was Hungarian, the only Hungarian -I had yet met in the whole place.</p> - -<p>“Where is the Treasury?” I asked him. I had a -friend in that office, which was the reason I was looking -for it.</p> - -<p>The commissionaire looked at me in astonishment; -I must have looked rather queer.</p> - -<p>“Yes?—there?... Thank you!” and I rushed -on. I passed through an ante-room and then I found -myself among friends.</p> - -<p>“What has happened to you? You are as white -as a sheet.”</p> - -<p>“I got lost among the many new offices. I was -sent from one room to another, and everywhere the -same faces glared at me. All the rooms of the House -of Lords are full of them. They have overrun every -inch of the House of Parliament. Our people are -nowhere. Good God, are those people in sole possession -everywhere?”</p> - -<p>“Everywhere ...” came the gloomy answer. I -buried my face in my hands, and wept bitterly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 15th-18th.</i></p> - -<p>I have just heard the true reason why the Archduke -Joseph took the oath of allegiance to the -National Council. Michael Károlyi, Count Theodore -Batthyány and Kunfi went to him, and Károlyi -pledged his word that he would hand the command -of the army over to the Archduke if only he would -take the oath. At that time this would have meant -the saving of the nation: the armed forces in the hands -of Archduke Joseph. The Archduke made the sacrifice -and took the oath. But those who have lied as -no men have ever lied in this world before, who have -cheated the country with the stories of their friendship<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> -with the Entente and their loyalty to the King, -who have cheated the nation and the army with their -promises of a good peace—they cheated the Archduke -Joseph too. While they were taking his oath of -allegiance at the Town Hall the army which they -promised him was being shattered by Linder in front -of the House of Parliament.</p> - -<p>All lies.... But lies are like a bridge without -banks to support it, which must break down....</p> - -<p>The friend who had warned me before of impending -peril came again. He entered cautiously and -looked round continually while he was speaking.</p> - -<p>“Look out,” he said in a whisper. “Give up all -your activities, give up this organising; you are being -watched with grave suspicion. It would be a pity if -they took you. I like your books: you will still be -able to go on writing beautiful things if you take -care. But you won’t if you go on like this. There -are many of us who would dig you out of a grave -with their bare hands, but <i>they</i> will get you into one. -Joseph Pogány said yesterday ‘We will settle -Cécile Tormay’s little business.’”</p> - -<p>I thanked him for the advice, knowing all the time -that I should not follow it. Destiny decides people’s -fate when it puts patriotism into their hearts. The -more of it it gives, the harder their fate.</p> - -<p>In the evening I overheard from my room a -curious conversation on the telephone. Our housekeeper -was telephoning to her <i>fiancé</i>, who, she tells -me, is a chauffeur. She is a good-looking woman, and -in January she left our service over a question of -wages, but a short time later asked to be taken back, -although we could only raise her salary slightly. At -the time I didn’t see anything very remarkable in -that; but since I have heard this conversation over -the telephone I have begun to wonder what her -reason for coming back could be. This is what she -said:</p> - -<p>“Hello, hello, is that you? Back again? No -engine trouble? Yes. In Kiskúnhalas too!... -And you took many arms, machine guns too? Did -you catch them? Officers, you say?”</p> - -<p>I was rather alarmed. So they had captured one -of the arsenals which the counter-revolution had -established in the country. I feared for the safety<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -of the others. Only later did I think of ourselves. -Who was this woman’s <i>fiancé</i>? Whose chauffeur was -he? My suspicions were aroused. But the time -when one can dismiss a servant is past, unless it be -the servant’s good pleasure to go. I remembered -letters I had asked her to post, which never reached -their destination. I also remembered that whenever -I receive visitors she crosses the ante-room as if accidentally. -Is it accidental? I must watch her.... -As I stood pondering she came and stood in the doorway -with a letter in her hand.</p> - -<p>“It’s very confidential,” she said, looking at me -rather queerly. “The man who brought it wanted -to deliver it into your own hands only.”</p> - -<p>“Some beggar, I suppose” ... I replied indifferently; -but I could see that she did not believe me.</p> - -<p>The envelope contained an invitation. To-morrow -afternoon Count Stephen Bethlen’s party -will be formed at last.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 19th.</i></p> - -<p>We walked fast, in Indian file, through the rain-swept -streets. From the dilapidated gutters of the -houses the water poured here and there on to our -necks. The shop windows were empty. Soaked red -posters screamed from the walls: “To-morrow afternoon -we must all be in the streets.”</p> - -<p>“This means that we had better not,” I said when, -opposite the Opera, we got into the finest street in -Budapest. The wooden pavement was full of holes -ankle-deep in water, for at night our respectable -citizens fetch wood from this pavement for their -fires.</p> - -<p>Everything visible is bleak and shabby, and outside -the town the whole country is in the same state. -The Czechs have annexed Pressburg, and they turned -the protest meeting of its inhabitants into a bath of -blood. A little boy climbed a lamp-post and tried -to stick up a tiny Hungarian flag. The Czech -soldiers shot him down as if he were a sparrow, and -little paper flag and little boy fell together on the -pavement. The embittered crowd then attacked the -soldiers with their bare hands; the soldiers called for -reinforcements and began a regular massacre from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -street to street. When Colonel Baracca, the Italian -commander of the Czech garrison, attempted to get -his men back to the barracks they broke his head -with the butts of their rifles. And as the Czechs -behave in the highlands, so do the Serbians down in -the plain, and worse than both, the Roumanians in -Transylvania. They flog ladies, priests, old men, in -the open street. They hang and torture, cut gashes -into the backs of Hungarians, fill them with salt, sew -the bleeding wounds up, and then drive their victims -with scourges through the streets. Meanwhile the -voluntary Székler and Hungarian battalions are appealing -in vain for help from the War Office, so that -they may at least save their people. But William -Böhm and Joseph Pogány refuse it, Károlyi makes -speeches on pacificism, and Béla Kún proclaims class -war in the barracks of Budapest.</p> - -<p>There is dynamite underground. We hear stifled -explosions every day. It was in this charged atmosphere -that Count Bethlen made his declaration concerning -his party’s policy.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>February 20th-22nd.</i></p> - -<p>As one looks back on distant days they seem to melt -into one like a row of men moving away, and yet -they passed singly and each had its own individuality. -Long ago the days smiled and were pleasant, -now all that is changed. One day stares at us, frigid, -relentlessly, another turns aside, and one feels there -is mischief in its face; some of them look back -threateningly after they have passed by.</p> - -<p>Such are the present ones. When they have passed -they still look back at us and mumble something -that sounds like “there is worse to come.” We refuse -to believe it, our common-sense revolts against -the prophecy, because our common-sense has come -to the end of its power of enduring misfortune. Even -jungles come to an end, and if they do not we tear a -path through the tangle of their thorns, tread them -down, and, at the price of whatever wounds and loss -of blood, regain the open country.</p> - -<p>The masses have lost their illusions concerning -Károlyi’s republic, for they are colder and hungrier -than ever. History always reaches a turning point -when there is no more bread and misery becomes past -endurance. Logically there must be a change, and -what change could there be but the resurrection of -the country? Hope, which has come to naught, must -become a reality in March.... At any rate we -flatter ourselves with this belief, so that we may find -strength for life and work though the streets whisper -a different tale, nay, sometimes they shout it aloud, -and last Thursday they baptised it with blood to -prove that they meant it.</p> - -<p>Béla Kún’s staff has called the work-shirking -rabble together. One day they stir the people up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span> -against the landlords, next day they agitate among -the disbanded soldiers to induce them to raise impossible -claims; to-day it was the turn of the unemployed.</p> - -<p>Potatoes are rotting in the ground and last year’s -maize cannot be gathered. There is nobody in the -town to sweep the streets, to cart the garbage, to -carry a load. At the railway station starving officers -do porters’ work. The evicted officials of occupied -territories hire themselves out as labourers on farms. -Meanwhile at their meetings the Communists court -the idle rabble: “You have lost your jobs in consequence -of the terrible bath of blood; the time has -come to get your own back; up, to arms!”</p> - -<p>So the mob went to Visegrad Street, where Béla -Kún and his friends stirred it up still more and -finally provided it with arms. With wild screams -the furious crowd thereupon poured out into the -boulevard, armed women, young ruffians with hand-grenades. -“Long live Communism,” rose the shout. -Somebody exclaimed: “Let’s go to the ‘People’s -Voice!’” And the crowd, which had learned from -the Socialists how to sack the editorial offices of -Christian and middle-class newspapers, went on to -storm the offices of the all-powerful organ of Social -Democracy. The destructive instinct knows no -bounds. The alarmed secretariat of the Socialist -party appealed for help to the police and the armed -forces, but before the sailors and the people’s guard -had reached the street its pavement was covered with -blood. Fifty constables awaited the crowd in a -street; shots fired by the mob were the signals for a -mad fusillade; from windows and attics machine-guns -were trained on the unfortunate police and a -shower of hand-grenades fell on the building of the -‘People’s Voice.’ It was a well prepared battle, the -first real test of the Communists’ power.</p> - -<p>It failed.... The Communist leaders remained -in the background, and the rabble, left to itself -without guidance, abandoned the field with such a -bloody head that all desire for further fighting has -gone out of it for the present. It is said that the dead -in this street battle numbered eight, and that over -a hundred injured had to be admitted to hospital.</p> - -<p>It was late in the evening and we could still hear<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -wild firing going on in the direction of the fight. -Even late at night occasional rifle shots were heard. -Then came the news in Friday’s papers that at day-break -the Communist leaders had been arrested. -Szamuelly’s room was found empty; on the table -lay a piece of paper and on it was written: “Dear -Father, don’t look for me; there is trouble, I must -fly.” Most of the others were captured: Béla Kún -was taken in his flat, and at the prison the policemen, -infuriated by the death of their comrades, beat -him within an inch of his life, indeed he only saved -it by shamming death, and the constables left him -in his cell without finishing him off.</p> - -<p>In consequence of the attack on the ‘People’s -Voice’ the Social Democratic party declared a -general strike. All work was forbidden, the traffic -stopped in the capital’s main streets, the shop -shutters put up, and even the cafés and restaurants -were closed. The town looked as if it had gone -blind; all along the streets closed grey lids covered -its eyes of glass. There was no traffic at all. All -vehicles had disappeared, and nothing but machine -guns passed along the roads. At the various corners -of the boulevards soldiers lounged beside their piled -rifles.</p> - -<p>There were processions everywhere. I met one -group, advancing under a red flag and consisting of -well over a thousand people, most of them wearing -white aprons smeared with patches of blood. They -swung huge axes, knives, and choppers over their -heads, and all were covered with blood. They looked -as if they had murdered half the town, and wherever -they went they shrieked: “Long live the proletarian -revolution!”</p> - -<p>“Who are these kindly people?” I asked a hag -with the face of a witch, who was cheering them -enthusiastically from the pavement.</p> - -<p>“The butchers’ guild,” she said proudly; -“Social Democrats, every one of them....”</p> - -<p>Nor were the Communists idle. Armed bands of -them threatened the police stations and prisons, supporting -their demands with hand-grenades and -clamouring for the immediate release of their leaders -and the delivery into their hands of the constables -who had beaten Béla Kún.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus30" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus30.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">“THERE WERE PROCESSIONS EVERYWHERE.”</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_258"><i>To face p. 258.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span></p> - -<p>Meanwhile something was going on in the dark. -The tone of the Social Democratic press has changed -suddenly and now the Government threatens the -counter-revolution with more vehemence than before, -asserting that the formation of a new party by -Count Stephen Bethlen is a more sinister crime than -the murderous attempts of the Communists. With -a sharp change of attitude, ‘The People’s Voice’ -asks for the punishment of the constables who ill-treated -Béla Kún, and writes threateningly of -Bethlen’s party and the National Association of -Hungarian Women: “Through the one of them the -men, through the other the women raise their voices, -and because the revolution has not yet made use of -the gallows, they give as shameless and impudent an -accent to their appeals as if the gallows were absolutely -excluded from among the weapons of defence -the revolution might use....”</p> - -<p>And while the official paper of the Social Democrats -writes like this, the evening paper, <i>Az Est</i>, which -for the last few months has boasted of having been -the principal agent in preparing and bringing about -the October revolution, now seeks to inspire the -minds of its readers in favour of another revolution -by exciting sympathy and pity for Béla Kún.</p> - -<p>Every day the attitude of the Government becomes -less comprehensible. It is openly said in town that -Károlyi is in communication with the Communists. -He telephoned orders that the leaders should be well -cared for in prison, and then sent messages to them -through his confidants, Landler and Jeszenszky, and -made his wife pay them a visit. Countess Michael -Károlyi, accompanied by Jeszenszky who is called -Károlyi’s aide-de-camp, went to see Béla Kún in the -prison to which he had been transferred. She -actually took him flowers, and saw to it herself that -the arrested Communists were provided with spring -mattresses, feather beds, blankets, good food, and -tobacco.</p> - -<p>Károlyi, the guilty megalomaniac, becomes more -and more of an enigma. He wanted to rule; to -attain power he had to ruin poor, befooled Hungary -and make an alliance with every enemy of the -country. It was cruel logic, disgraceful, but it was -logic. But that he should now ally himself with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> -enemies of his own power seems to indicate softening -of the brain. And this same feeble-mindedness -manifests itself daily in all his declarations and -pronouncements in a more grotesque shape, in him -as well as in his wife. The stories about them become -more and more extravagant.</p> - -<p>The other day he had a kinematograph film taken -of his projected entry into the royal castle, yet dares -not have it exhibited. He had a stage erected, red -carpets were laid, lacqueys in court livery stood in -a row, and he made his state entry with his wife, -assisted by some actors. Something went wrong with -the film, so they started anew and played the whole -comedy over again.</p> - -<p>Then there is the tale about Countess Károlyi’s -attempt to play the ministering angel. She had the -royal table linen cut to pieces, and the stiff, hard -damask with the royal arms and crown on it was -sent to proletarian infants to be used as pilches!</p> - -<p>The other day the military band was playing in -St. George’s square. It struck up the ‘Marseillaise.’ -As if by magic, a window of the Prime Minister’s -residence opened, and Countess Károlyi leaned out -and waved her hand. Then the band began to play -the Hungarian national anthem; Countess Károlyi -retired at once and shut her window in a hurry.</p> - -<p>Receptions are organised up in the castle. Real -Hungarian society, which lives in retirement, practically -in mourning, has severed all contact with the -Károlyi’s; but they have found a remedy for this. -Their receptions are reported in the newspapers, and -among those mentioned as being present are people -who cut them in the street. The other day, to my -consternation, I found my own name in one of the -lists, but when I tried to protest through the press -no newspaper would print my letter.</p> - -<p>A few days ago Károlyi gave a state dinner in -honour of two Italian gentlemen, who, as simple -private individuals, had come to visit some relations -here; it surpassed everything that bad taste had ever -produced. The country is in mourning, there is no -coal, and in many houses people lack even candles -and oil; yet the castle was a blaze of light. The -ministers of the republic were present with their -wives, and dinner was served in the hall where the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -picture of the coronation of 1867 is hanging. The -table was covered with linen bearing the monogram of -Francis Joseph, and the plates were marked with the -royal crown. Thus, in the royal castle, among the -memories of kingship, on royal plate, the so-called -president of the republic entertained the astonished -foreigners who had expected to be the guests of a -Hungarian nobleman and found that they had fallen -in with a ridiculous parvenu. They related their -adventures next day and carried the story back to -their own country as a huge joke.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus31" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus31.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">THE ROYAL CASTLE, BUDA,<br /> - <span class="smaller">WITH THE STATUE OF PRINCE EUGENE OF SAVOY.</span></p> - <p class="caption"><i>Photo. Erdelyi, Budapest.</i></p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_260"><i>To face p. 260.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>The Károlyi’s have parted with everything that -could support them. It is said of them that they -gave asylum to Szamuelly, the murderer of Hungarian -officers, when he escaped the other day. Michael -Károlyi started his career with lies, continued it -with dishonour, and now has landed in the mire. If -he is not stopped somehow it is likely that he will -drag the whole nation down with him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 23rd.</i></p> - -<p>Past midnight. I said good-night to my mother; -the street is silent, and my room is cold.</p> - -<p>How often have I, at this table, imagined destinies -that existed only in the author’s mind, and while I -wrote the story brought the children of my fancy to -very life! But now life is harder than the destinies -which I ever imagined, and more than once of late -my real existence has seemed to me like some fantastic -tale, beheld from the outside, as though at a -distance....</p> - -<p>This morning the newspapers have published a -new law just passed by the Government to oppose all -attempts at a counter-revolution. It empowers the -Government to put ‘out of harm’s way’ any one who -is, in their opinion, dangerous to the achievements -of the revolution or to the popular republic. This -means that anyone of us who is obnoxious in their -eyes can be arrested without any further preliminaries.</p> - -<p>It was about midday when my telephone, which -has been mute for a long time, raised its voice. A -cousin of mine was speaking, and her voice, though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -she was obviously making efforts to appear calm, -was excited.</p> - -<p>“Knöpfler would like to speak to you. Important—Urgent.”</p> - -<p>“Why doesn’t he come here, then?”</p> - -<p>“He cannot come now. Mother-in-law keeps an -eye on him. Come to us, we will meet in the street.”</p> - -<p>She put the receiver down. Among ourselves we -always refer to the police as ‘mother-in-law.’</p> - -<p>I wonder what has happened. What has Gömbös, -the leader of the Awakening Hungarians, to tell me? -(Knöpfler is his <i>nom de guerre</i>.) I saw in the paper -yesterday that on the proposal of the Minister of -War the Government had decided that his society -should be dissolved.</p> - -<p>I never leave home without saying good-bye to my -mother. “Come home early,” she said when I took -leave. I was going to lunch with some relations. -My mother knew this, and yet she seemed anxious.</p> - -<p>“I needn’t go if you don’t want me to. I can -make some excuse.”</p> - -<p>“No, you just go along,” she said, and her expression -changed suddenly. “You know, it does us old -people good to be alone sometimes. Then we are -with our own contemporaries who are no more. You -go along to your own contemporaries who are still -here.”</p> - -<p>She said this so sweetly that it made me feel as if -a solitary Sunday dinner were a treat for her. She -achieved her end, I went with a lighter heart.</p> - -<p>A cold wind blew down the street. My cousin and -her husband came to meet me, and a short distance -behind them Gömbös followed. “We’ll go a few -steps with you,” they said, and Gömbös came to my -side.</p> - -<p>“The cabinet council decided yesterday,” he -whispered, “to intern us. Count Bethlen, Colonel -Bartha, Bishop Count Mikes, Wekerle ... and -you.”</p> - -<p>Again I had that feeling that it did not concern -me, and I listened indifferently.</p> - -<p>“Károlyi is at Debrö and the warrant lies on his -table waiting for his signature. Well, what do you -think of it?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” I answered, and was surprised to find<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -how little it affected me; “I am just thinking who -will carry on in our place.”</p> - -<p>They went with me for a short distance and then -we parted. I walked across the town, for I wanted -to be alone and think: I had to make plans and -arrange my affairs for all eventualities. A thousand -questions crowded into my mind, and yet I found -no time to take any decision, because I was thinking -all the while of my mother, and of her only.</p> - -<p>When I told my hosts, over the coffee, the news I -had just received, their faces seemed to reflect the -danger that stood behind me.</p> - -<p>Evening was drawing in when I reached home. As -I stepped into the ante-room the telephone bell rang, -and when I answered it a friend spoke to me in the -secretive way that has now become habitual.</p> - -<p>“The dressmaker has come with the new fashion -papers. She is going straight to you, please don’t -leave home until you have seen her.”</p> - -<p>A few minutes later her husband arrived. He had -heard it at his club....</p> - -<p>“You will probably be arrested to-night. What -are your plans? Your friends, I understand, don’t -want to escape.”</p> - -<p>“I shall stay too,” I said, and thanked him for -his kindness. Meanwhile, my brother Géza had -arrived, then a friend and his wife, and finally -Gömbös.</p> - -<p>It was now nearly ten o’clock. My mother called -me: supper had been waiting on the table for a long -while. The others had already supped, so I left -them and joined my mother. I ate rapidly, and she -watched me closely.</p> - -<p>“What is going on here? Why have they come? -Is anything wrong? Don’t hide things from me.”</p> - -<p>I tried to reassure her, though I saw clearly she -did not believe me. She sighed. “Well, go along -to your friends, but don’t keep them too late.”</p> - -<p>Soon they rose to go with the exception of Gömbös.</p> - -<p>“It has been decided by the others,” he said, -“that none of you will flee. They only send me.... -I shall help from abroad.”</p> - -<p>We fixed up everything. Gömbös rose, took his -society’s badge from his button-hole: an oak wreath -on white ground with ‘For the honour of our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> -country’ on it, and handed it to me. “Take this as -a souvenir, nobody has a better right to wear it than -you.”</p> - -<p>“God bless you; if we live I am sure we shall hear -of you,” I said at the door.</p> - -<p>They left me and I heard the street door shut. I -wondered whether anyone was lying in wait for him, -down there in the dark, and listened for a time at -the window, but the steps went undisturbed down the -street.</p> - -<p>I went to my mother. I don’t remember ever -having seen her so excited. “Now why don’t you -tell me?” she cried. “I know that something has -happened.”</p> - -<p>“Gömbös came to take leave; he is flying the -country.”</p> - -<p>I changed the subject as soon as possible. We -chatted a long time and by and by she calmed down. -Or did she only pretend, for my sake? No, she -never showed anything but what she felt.</p> - -<p>Slowly the clocks struck midnight. And here I am -sitting at my writing-table and, instead of imagining -destinies, am occupied by my own. Who knows -whether I shall still be free to write to-morrow what -I leave unwritten to-day?</p> - -<p>I packed the most necessary things into a small -valise. Again the clocks struck: they are knocking -at the gate of the morrow.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 24th.</i></p> - -<p>The news of the internments has spread all over -the town. I was afraid my mother might hear from -someone else what was in store for me, so I decided -to tell her myself. She is not one of those whom one -has to prepare for bad news. When I told her, she -went a little pale, and, for a time, held her head up -more rigidly than usual. But her self-control never -left her and she remained composed. She blamed -nobody and did not reproach me for causing her this -sorrow.</p> - -<p>“You did your duty, my dear; I never expected -anything else from you.” More approval than this -she had rarely expressed.</p> - -<p>I remained at home the whole afternoon, sitting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -with my mother, and we talked of times when things -were so very different from what they are now. If -the bell rang, if the door opened or steps approached, -I felt my heart leap. In the afternoon a motor car -stopped in front of the house. For a time it throbbed -under our window.... Had it come for me?</p> - -<p>We have come to this, that in Hungary to-day -those who dare to confess to being Hungarians are -tracked down like game. In the Highlands it is the -Czechs, in Transylvania the Roumanians, in the -South the Serbians, and in the territory that remains -to us it is the Government who persecutes the -Hungarians.</p> - -<p>The bell.... Nothing, only a letter. Those who -have never tried it cannot imagine what it feels like -to have ceased to be master of one’s freedom and to -be waiting for strangers to carry one off to prison.</p> - -<p>I spent the evening with my mother and, as of old, -I followed her if she went from one room to another: -I did not budge from her side. After supper I -showed her a packet of letters which I wanted her to -hide among her own things, so that they might -not be found if there was another search. The letters -had nothing to do with politics: they were old, far-away -letters which one never reads again yet -does not like to burn, because it is comforting to -know that they still exist—dead letters of past -springs. I should have been horrified if rough strange -hands had touched them.</p> - -<p>“Put them there,” my mother said and pointed -to the glass case with the green curtains. As I pushed -the little packet in at the back of the highest shelf I -noticed a big box with a paper label on it. Written -on it in her clear handwriting was “Objects from the -old china-cabinet.”</p> - -<p>“May I have a look at these?” I said. She -nodded.</p> - -<p>It was as though I had received all the desires and -forbidden toys of my childhood; I pressed the box -against me. Then we put our heads together over -the table, in the light of the shaded lamp.... Suddenly -the high white, folding doors of the old house -where I had spent my childhood opened quietly, -mysteriously, one after the other, and as by sweet -magic I saw again the old room of long ago and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -china cabinet near the white fire-place, under the old -picture in the gilt frame....</p> - -<p>Slowly and carefully we unwrapped the little -objects that had slept so long in their tissue paper. -My mother had packed them away when we had -come here and when there was no room in the smaller -china cabinet of our diminished dwelling. Since -then I had never seen the treasures of my childhood, -and as the years went by they lay enshrined and undisturbed -in my memory.</p> - -<p>The tiny Marquis de Saxe held up his white bewigged -head; there was my great-grandfather’s snuff -box, which could play a tinkling little tune; the -Empire lamp in pseudo-Greek style, and a long-necked -scent bottle, which to this very day contained -the ghost of a perfume of long ago. There was the -old Parisian card-case in the silky glory of the Second -Empire, the century-old miniature writing-table of -mother-of-pearl and the bucket of the same material -with a tiny landscape painted on it. In a separate -paper were souvenirs of dinners at Francis Joseph’s -court: petrified sweets, with Queen Elizabeth and -her fan stuck on them, the old King when he was -still young, Archduke Rudolph with Stephanie’s -fair head at his side. Among other things there was -a little carriage, standing on a silken cushion and -containing golden flagons and bunches of grapes. -Next I found the gold filigree butterfly. Then there -came a little porcelain group of marvellous beauty: -on a little toilet-table sat a tiny monkey who was -looking into the looking-glass; behind him stood a -group of laughing rococo ladies, and their whispering -heads were reflected in the mirror too.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I instinctively put my hands behind my -back.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember, mother? We always had to -put our hands behind our backs when we looked at -this.” We began to laugh, both of us, and at that -moment there was nothing else in this whole wide -world that mattered. And through the open white -doors I saw myself, a mischievous fair child, on tip-toe, -looking up with religious awe, and I saw my -beautiful young mother, with the porcelain monkey-group -in her hand.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember?...” And memory kindly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -took us back to happy, quiet times. My mother said: -“I brought this from Paris in ’61, this was given me -by my mother, the pair of this one was bought by the -Empress Eugénie....” At the bottom of the box -there was a little packet. And there, at the very end -I found again my forgotten love: a lady in a yellow -dress, my favourite bit of china. But I was disappointed -with it now. It had no mark and its origin -was unknown. It was curious that in childhood’s -days she seemed to have been much more beautiful in -her yellow, china crinoline. She stood on the spread -edges of her crinoline and for that reason she had no -need of feet. Her hair was brown and her waist -ridiculously slender.</p> - -<p>While I was looking at her, steps resounded in the -quiet street and stopped in front of the house. Then -the front door bell rang. That sound dispersed all -the magic that had surrounded us. The picture of -childhood fell in ruins and the folding doors of the -old house shut one after the other.</p> - -<p>My mother’s hand remained on the table. She sat -motionless in the green armchair and turned her head -back a little as if listening. We did not speak a -word, yet knew that we were thinking of the same -thing. The silence was so absolute that we could -hear the steps of the concièrge going towards the -door. The key turned. There was talking down -below. And then we could hear the steps coming up -the stairs. Would they stop at the first floor for us, -or would they go on? We held our breath to hear -the better.</p> - -<p>The steps went on.</p> - -<p>My mother’s rigid attitude relaxed, and she leant -back in the arm-chair. “What can the time be?” -she said after a while. I was packing away the -treasures of the old china cabinet, one after the -other. Should we ever see them again? They might -be smashed, they might be carried off. I took leave -of them, one by one. Nowadays one is for ever taking -leave....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 25th.</i></p> - -<p>What are they waiting for? The night has passed, -so has the day, and I am still free. Nobody has been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span> -arrested yet. Pogány insisted on the arrests being -made, and Böhm proposed them to the cabinet -council, which accepted the proposal unanimously. -The fate of the arrested Communists was settled unanimously -too. They were to be detained only for -the sake of appearances, not to protect the town from -them, but to protect them from the vengeance of the -police.</p> - -<p>Since Baron Arco’s bullet laid low Kurt Eisner, -the Jewish tyrant of Bavaria, the Government has -been getting more and more nervous. Since the -Soldiers’ and Workers’ Council in Munich decided for -the Dictatorship of the proletariat, the Communists -party here is getting more audacious every day. Red -news comes from Berlin, from Saxony, and, like a -distant earthquake, it shakes our town.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the request of the Entente, the -date of the elections for the National Assembly has -again been postponed. Perhaps in March, or in -April.... If it’s delayed so far the fight will be -hard. The party at present in power is employing -unheard-of stratagems. The achievements of the -revolution: freedom of the press, freedom of thought -and of opinions, freedom of association and meeting, -all these exist only for them. Our opinion has no -longer a press. One newspaper dared to raise the -question of shirking work, and the gigantic amount -paid out in unemployment doles; the Communists -demolished its offices. Then came the turn of another -which had attacked Hatvany’s book, the chronicle -of their revolution. Others followed, and the plant of -their printers was wrecked too.</p> - -<p>The same sinister spirit which directed destruction -fell like a strangling nightmare on the mind and brain -of the press. Even journalists, whose patriotic feelings -were opposed to it, were forced to join a Trade-Union. -By means of the Trade-Union, three Jews -became the dictators of the written word. All the -well-disposed papers and printers were silenced, and -the Hungarian spirit was banished from the journalists’ -club. When the Markgrave Pallavicini tried to make -a breach in the Communist and Social Democratic -stronghold by purchasing an existing paper, the terror -had already reached such a pitch that Fényes turned -up with his armed sailors to prevent him from taking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -possession of it. After this it was obvious that abolition -of the freedom of the press was being achieved -with the aid of the same Government which had -crushed the freedom of assembly by means of Red -soldiers, and the freedom of opinions by the means of -the ‘popular law’ of internments. We are not even -allowed to assemble: our meetings are broken up by -the same Red soldiers who demolish the editorial -offices. And yet the Socialists dare not appeal to the -country, for who knows what answer it might give?</p> - -<p>They promised to bring the country happiness. -Hungary has never been unhappier than now. Public -opinion in the Provinces has lately turned entirely -against them. They had to do something, so they -produced the mirage of land distribution; and Károlyi, -who had previously taken up a mortgage of several -millions on his property, went out with a noisy -following to his estate at Debrö and, before a kinematograph -camera, received the claims of tenants on -the land which was laden with debts and did not -really belong to him any longer. An old peasant was -elected to present his claim first: an old servant of -the Károlyi estate. In a lofty speech Károlyi sang -his own praise. The old peasant answered. Unfortunately -he was not allowed to say what he wanted -to: he had been carefully coached, but even so he -made a slight slip in his address. “I have served the -Károlyi family to the third degeneration....” -They stopped him then. The Social Democrats sent -their delegates to this theatrical distribution of land. -They feel that if they don’t succeed in fooling the -level-headed agricultural population of Hungary they -will lose the election. In many villages the Social -Democratic agitators are driven away with broken -heads. It is the women who enrage the people against -them: “Blasphemers, <i>sans patrie</i>!”</p> - -<p>But a thing like that does not embarrass the Social -Democrats: they adopt a disguised programme for -the rural districts. Since one of the leaders of the -broken-up small-holders party, Stephen Szabó of -Nagyatád, has joined the Károlyi government in -Budapest the Socialist propaganda has appropriated -the patriotic and religious mottoes of that party. -The Red Jewish agitators, before addressing the -people, kneel down on the platform, make the sign<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -of the cross and pretend to say their prayers. Then -they start like this: “Praised be the Lord Jesus -Christ, we too, Social Democrats, believe in the all-powerful -God....”</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the threats of the new ‘popular -law’ the various Protestant and Catholic women’s -organisations bravely carry on their work. The -National Association had a meeting this morning. -The whole committee was present, not one was missing; -it seemed like a deliberate demonstration. These -women can be great and noble. Is this to be our last -meeting?</p> - -<p>“If anything happened,” I said, “and I were prevented -from coming again, I should ask Elizabeth -Kállay to take my place. If her turn comes, and she -cannot be here any longer, let someone else take her -place, and so on. The links of the chain must not -be broken.”</p> - -<p>There was stern resolution in our dark, insignificant -little office.</p> - -<p>Countess Raphael Zichy looked at me while she -addressed the others: “There is one among us whom -the Government wants to arrest. Let us decide that -if this should happen, we shall go, with a hundred -thousand women, up to the castle and claim to be -arrested too, because we have all done what she has -done.”</p> - -<p>She was not laughing now. And in all the weary -journey of this wintry world I have never been given -anything more precious.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 26th.</i></p> - -<p>Early this morning the door bell rang. Steps -tramped about the ante-room. A little later the -little German maid came in.</p> - -<p>“Two soldiers were looking for you, and asked if -you were in town. They had an urgent message. I -told them you were in town but had gone out.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke I knew that they had come to find -out if I had escaped. It is quite the custom nowadays; -they ring, inquire, and go. They follow me in -the streets, and sometimes even walk behind me up -the stairs.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus32" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/illus32.jpg" alt="" /> - <p class="caption">COUNT KÁROLYI DISTRIBUTING HIS LANDS AT DEBRO.</p> - <p class="caption-r">(<a href="#Page_270"><i>To face p. 270.</i></a>)</p> -</div> - -<p>It makes one feel like a cornered quarry. I’m beginning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span> -to wish that something would happen. If it -has to be, let them arrest me; but this underhand -spying gets on one’s nerves. It is reported in town -that I have already been arrested. The telephone -bell is continually ringing—friends inquiring if I am -still at home.</p> - -<p>Later Count Bethlen came to tell me that the -internments had been suspended after Szurmay, the -former Minister of Defence, and Szterényi, the former -Minister of Commerce, had been arrested. They -went for them after midnight, arrested them and -took them somewhere on the right bank of the -Danube.</p> - -<p>In the evening my mother and I played Patience. -It is about the only old-time custom that is left to us -now. To-morrow I shall have one more day at -home.... As for the day after—but in these times -that is such a distant date that one dares not think of -it if one wants to live.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 27th.</i></p> - -<p>Bishop Count Mikes has been arrested: his diocese -waits for him in vain. Once there was an Archbishop -down there in Kalocsa for whom the faithful in the -Cathedral waited in vain too, when the time came -for Mass. He had girded on his sword, had gone to -do battle for Hungary, and had perished with his six -bishops on the fields of Mohács. But his spirit is not -dead. It has appeared now and then in the history -of Hungary, and to-day it is here again. Its name -to-day is John Mikes.</p> - -<p>Some of us who went to the Association this -morning spoke of him. Suddenly the news came -that Communist soldiers had run amok in the neighbouring -street and were coming to break up the -women’s meeting.</p> - -<p>“Let’s go,” somebody suggested.</p> - -<p>“I stay!” And three others stayed with me to -see it through. To save our rings and watches we -handed them to one of those who left. There were -shouts in the street. People were running about in -the house. Then the noise subsided and the visit of -the Reds did not come off.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon I went to see the daughter of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> -General Türr, the Hungarian who had been -Garibaldi’s right-hand man and one of the heroes of -Italy’s fight for freedom. It was rather a shock to -see an Italian officer there, his chest covered with -decorations. Where had he got them? I thought of -the Hungarian dead at Doberdo and San Michele. -And I also remembered that the Czechs were at -present using Italian rifles to beat out the brains of -Hungarian peasants in Upper Hungary.</p> - -<p>When the commander of the American troops -landed in France he shouted: “<i>Nous voilá, -Lafayette!</i>”... When the Italian general who is -leading the Czechs over the defenceless Carpathians -stepped on Hungarian soil I wonder if he said, -“<i>Nous voilá, Tüköry ... nous voilá, Türr!...</i>”</p> - -<p>My hand twitched when I gave it to Italy’s -soldier. And yet this stranger seemed a sympathetic, -well-intentioned man. And Italy once was my -second home, dear good friends of my youth live -there and the fate of our two peoples has often taken -a common road. We must forget, but it is still very -hard.</p> - -<p>We tried to inform Signora Türr of the situation, -but Károlyi’s ministers had preceded us. They had -betrayed themselves. Signora Türr spoke of them -with the greatest contempt and promised to inform -her government of the country’s desperate plight. -“Why, what you have got here amounts practically -to Bolshevism....” Practically!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>February 28th.</i></p> - -<p>It seemed quite unusual to have been in society -again, without any serious cause or purpose, for -nothing special, just as we used to in old times. -Countess Mikes gave a tea party in honour of -Stephanie Türr.</p> - -<p>Loafing soldiers on the look-out gathered round the -entrance when we arrived. Where are the old times? -Where are the homes that knew no care? Electric -lights dimmed in silken shades, the dainty lines of -beautiful dresses, Paris scents, the smoke of Egyptian -cigarettes; flowers, a shower of flowers——.</p> - -<p>Now there are last Spring’s dresses, dim light, -scanty heating, cigarettes of a coarse tobacco.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span> -Scents exist no more, and in a wide-necked vase three -miserable, sad flowers. Hungarian society no longer -has a social life. Those who can amuse themselves in -these times are not Hungarians. Salons are dead, -they have become the meeting-place of embittered -conspirators where people talk to each other and then -look anxiously behind them. Practically every -Hungarian house is spied upon by its own servants. -We know it but cannot remedy it.</p> - -<p>Everything has changed, even conversation. In -former times it turned on human interests, music, -theatres, books, distant towns, foreign countries, -acquaintances. Now we ask each other “What was -it like in jail? Have they searched your house yet? -I thought you had been arrested.” And if somebody -says “I’m glad to see you” it has a different -meaning from what it used to have. Count Albert -Apponyi passed smiling and came up and shook my -hands warmly. “So you are still free!...”</p> - -<p>I met Stephanie Türr once more before she left, and -talked to her in the hall of the Hotel Bristol. She -gave me a solemn promise; she will try to help us -when she gets home. The Italian officer who had -been given her as an escort for her personal safety, -said nervously:</p> - -<p>“Signora, you are watched. There are detectives -here.” Then he spoke so low that I could hardly -hear him. “<i>E pericoloso</i>,” and he winked and -nodded to me. “Be careful, we can leave, but those -unfortunates who remain here are playing with their -lives.”</p> - -<p>I felt as if there were only two kinds of humanity in -the world: those who are happy and those who are -unfortunate. And these foreigners look upon us as if -they were looking, half in pity, half in curiosity, -through the grating of a mortuary.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="right"><i>March 1st-5th.</i></p> - -<p>Winter is still with us, but the winds bring signs -of awakening from afar. March ... the month of -fevers and commotions. On the earth fatigue and -restlessness chase each other. Flooded rivers race -along. There is no visible sign of it, yet spring is -there somewhere over the horizon.</p> - -<p>Whose spring is this to be? Ours or theirs? Signs -of evil omen prophesy against us. The monster, -raised from the dark by Károlyi’s party in October, -shows its head daily more boldly and now grips -the city with innumerable tentacles. Its suckers -pierce the flesh of Budapest, and where they fasten -themselves the streets become convulsed, and, like -blood, red flags trickle out of the houses.</p> - -<p>The Galileists openly avowed at their last meeting -that they are Communists. At the instigation of -Maria Goszthonyi and a Jewish Communist woman -the Socialist women demonstrated in the Old House -of Commons against the religious and patriotic spirit in -the schools. On the initiative of John Hock, himself -a priest, orators clamoured in favour of abolishing -the Catholic priests’ celibacy. Revolutionary orders -from the War Office and the Soldiers’ Council spread -all over the country. Pogány has sent instructions to -the various military detachments that they should, -with the help of the confidential men, elect officers -of the most advanced political opinions and dismiss -the others.</p> - -<p>In the Town Hall the Workers’ Council has now -passed sentence of death on the system of small -holdings and on the distribution of land. This distribution -would at least have left Hungarians to some -extent possessed of their birthright. But that would -have retarded the plans of our new conquerors. So they -want to socialize it and create producers’ co-operative -Societies, controlled from Budapest, and directed, -instead of by the old Hungarian landlords, by people<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -who, as Kunfi said: “are inspired by the new spirit -of Hungary.” They want to achieve the revolution -of the soil even as they achieved their political revolution. -After the wheel, they want to lay hands on -the ship itself.</p> - -<p>Outside the walls, no less than inside, the red -plague is spreading. I remember the first red flag -hoisted. It hung alone for a long time, then it was -followed by others. The rebellion of October ordered -the beflagging of the town. The perpetrators of that -crime commanded an obscene display of joy in the -hour of our great disaster, and Budapest donned in -cowardly fashion the festive decoration imposed -upon her, while the country was being torn to pieces -all around. In the days that followed she did not -dare to remove it: she stood there, beflagged, during -the downfall, under the heel of foreign occupation, -like a painted prostitute, and the national colours -became antagonistic to our souls, an insult to, a -mockery of, our grief. Though it sounds like the talk -of a madman, I say that I began to hate the colours -for which I would formerly have loved to give my -life.</p> - -<p>Now the red, white, and green flags are disappearing -rapidly. But the soiled colours of the nation -are not replaced in the country’s capital by the black -of mourning. Every day there are more and more -red flags in the streets of this unprincipled town, -which is always outrunning itself and stamping its -past into the mud. Once I loved this town and wrote -its romance, so that its people might learn to love it -through my art.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> Now I have become a stranger -within its gates and have no communion with it. I -impeach it and repudiate it.</p> - -<p>And this accusation is not raised against the foreign -race which has achieved power, which has attained -its end by sheer perseverance, ingenuity, industry -and pluck—but against Magyardom and the whole -nation, who have, heedlessly, incapably and blindly, -given up their own heart—the capital.</p> - -<p>All past powers and governments are responsible -for this. The reproach concerns to the same extent -those politicians who are still debating about shades<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -and won’t see that to-day there are only colours, and -won’t feel that in a short time there will be no -more colours, but only one colour, and that that one -will be—red.</p> - -<p>This bitter thought brought to my mind a Red -soldier whom I saw when I was on duty at the railway -station. Some armed men came into the hall -where we have our Red Cross. They were commanded -by a strapping young Hungarian. He stopped in -front of me and asked me whether I had seen ninety-six -men pass there. They came from Deés, were -Whites, armed, and their track had been lost.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen them.” Then my eyes caught -sight of his cap. A broad red ribbon was sewn -round it. “What have you done with the red, -white, and green one?”</p> - -<p>“We lost that on the Piave,” the soldier answered.</p> - -<p>“There you lost the black and yellow one.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> You -have torn off our own colours yourselves.” As I said -this I looked straight into his eyes. He couldn’t -stand my gaze: he snatched the cap from his head -and hid it behind his back:</p> - -<p>“Well, and you gentlefolk, why don’t you ever -give us a lead?”</p> - -<p>Many times have those words echoed in my ears -since then, every time a soldier or a workman has -flung at me the accusation of want of leadership. It -seems to be a characteristic of our politicians and -intellectuals.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 6th.</i></p> - -<p>An old woman stood on the edge of the curb and -made queer, whining sounds. People looked at her -and went on. A few street urchins jumped about her -and laughed at her. When I came near I noticed -that she was blind. She was making heartrending -appeals out of her eternal darkness to the passers-by, -and wanted to cross the busy street, but there -was none to give her a helping hand. For a moment -or two I looked at the people: they were mostly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -poor: labourers, labourers’ wives. They passed unmoved, -caring for none but themselves.</p> - -<p>The community of Marxian proletarians came to -my mind. Those teachings which kill human community -kill class community too. The times which -tear the Saviour from the cross crucify humanity in -His place.</p> - -<p>I took the old woman’s arm and led her through -the medley of trams and carriages.</p> - -<p>“I am sure it is one of the gentlefolk who leads -me,” the woman said; “our own people have become -so cruel, even to their own kind....”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 7th-8th.</i></p> - -<p>I live from day to day. I have not yet been called -before a tribunal. I am not arrested, but their accusations -against me remain, nobody has torn up the -warrant for my arrest. Why they hesitate about executing -it I don’t know, for I shouldn’t trouble to -ask them why they arrested me, and certainly wouldn’t -accept any intervention on my behalf. I wouldn’t -ask them for anything.</p> - -<p>I am free, and yet I am not. I had intended to -visit two provincial towns in the interest of the -Women’s Association, but I was warned that if I -were to leave Budapest it would be considered flight, -and I should be arrested. What am I to do?</p> - -<p>The elections are coming off shortly. I work -too, though I don’t believe in them. The situation -would be just the same if, regardless of all intimidation, -the patriotic masses were to secure a majority. -Social Democracy is not particular about its means; -it has roused the workmen with the story of the -world-saving powers of the equal and secret ballot, -and now when this has been obtained and it ought -to submit to its judgment, the official Government -journal says right out: “If Socialism were, for whatever -reason, to lose the battle, it would be ultimately -obliged to resort to arms against the counter-revolution....” -The election can’t help us. Something -else will have to happen.</p> - -<p>And it will happen. It is in the air. A monster -cord is tightening round us, and when it snaps it will -draw blood from those it strikes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 9th.</i></p> - -<p>The red fist is raised higher every day and becomes -more and more threatening. In a friendly way it -points occasionally to the gallows, and then towards -gaol. This morning it has again honoured me with -its attention. The official paper of the Social -Democratic headquarters, under the title ‘The -visiting Counter-Revolution,’ makes an onslaught on -those who, without the knowledge of the Government, -are communicating with the envoys of the Entente, -and, in company with others, it calls me a counter-revolutionary -spy.</p> - -<p>Somebody gave me the paper on the staircase of -the Protestant Theological College. The Evangelical -students were giving a concert, and between the -songs I was to give an address. The words of ‘The -People’s Voice’ were still buzzing in my head when I -stepped on the platform. I told the Protestant youths -that every patriotic action which serves its purpose, -that every patriotic word that hits the mark, -regains a scrap of our torn country. <i>The People’s -Voice</i> accused me this morning of being a counter-revolutionary -spy. I don’t deny it, I try to inform -foreign countries of the state of affairs by word of -mouth and with my pen. I read an article of mine -which a compatriot and his Swedish wife had taken -to Stockholm for the <i>Svenska Dagbladed</i>. It was -called: ‘An appeal from a nation’s scaffold.’ I left -it to my audience to decide whether that was counter-revolution -or patriotism.</p> - -<p>When I came to the end of my address a loud voice -shouted: “We want a hundred thousand similar -counter-revolutionaries!” And the whole audience -jumped up and took up the cry.</p> - -<p>A wave passed over the hall, a wave which grows, -spreads over the country, while from the other side -there comes another wave coloured red. Which is -faster, which will be the first to break the dyke? It -is all a question of time.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 10th-11th.</i></p> - -<p>The street was silent. There was no shooting last -night and the obscene shouts of drunken patrols were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> -not heard. It might have been about half past one -when a cart came down the street and stopped at our -front door. “Surely they have not come to fetch me -in a cart?” I thought, but all the same I collected -my papers and stuck them under the bookcase. There -was an odd noise below, as if something were being -broken open. Then there followed steps carrying a -heavy weight. The thought occurred to me that they -might be robbing our cellar. I put out my lamp and -went to the window. The street was practically dark, -but I thought I could distinguish a cart and a few -human figures.</p> - -<p>What if they were stealing our coal! The idea made -me shudder. I ran to the <i>concièrge</i>, made him open -the door, and went out into the street. The cart was -standing at the cellar-stairs of the neighbouring -house, where a carpenter had his workshop. The -night birds were dragging furniture out of it. One -of the dark figures stood in front of me: “Good -evening, Miss,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Good-evening,” I answered, and with the -egotism bred of our times I was glad that it was not -our cellar into which they had broken. “Good-night,” -I added politely. “Good-night,” came the -answer.</p> - -<p>Only when the door had shut behind me did I realise -that these well-intentioned people might easily have -knocked me down.</p> - -<p>Such are the “Winter’s Tales” enacted in the -nights of Budapest....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 12th.</i></p> - -<p>In the name of the women of Hungary we made a -last attempt to-day to unite the adherents of law -and order. The leaders gathered at my house: we -all realised that this was our last chance. And when -at length, after long discussions, we women were left -to ourselves, all we could do was to sum up our -efforts in the words: “we have failed again!”</p> - -<p>Before going to bed the housekeeper brought her -account books to my mother. She fixed her inquisitive -eyes on me and said: “You look tired, miss. -You’ve had so many visitors to-day! Perhaps it -was an important meeting?...”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span></p> - -<p>Instinctively I answered: “We discussed whether -it would be possible to have the children’s festival -this year.” And then straight out, in self-defence, I -asked: “Your fiancé, he is Pogány’s chauffeur, -isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>She was taken aback by my sudden question and -gave herself away:</p> - -<p>“He carries Pogány sometimes, sometimes Böhm.”</p> - -<p>That was just what I wanted to know.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 13th.</i></p> - -<p>Many people are stopping at the street corner, -where a new poster is shrieking from the walls. It -represents a giant workman bending over the -Hungarian Parliament, at his feet a bucket of paint, -and with a dripping brush he is painting the mighty -mass of granite, which is our House of Parliament, -red. Above the picture is the appeal ‘Vote for the -Social Democratic party.’</p> - -<p>The everlasting pile of stones, and—red paint.... -That sums it up completely—even more than was -intended.</p> - -<p>The other day we stuck up our tiny poster. It -was a map of Hungary: on a white field the green -frontiers, and above, in red letters; ‘National Association -of Hungarian Women.’ <i>They</i> are free to cover -the walls with yard-long posters: ours was no bigger -than a hand and took up little enough room, yet -they could not tolerate it. I saw a little boy tearing -them off.</p> - -<p>“Why do you do that, sonny? It does not hurt -you.”</p> - -<p>“I get twenty crowns a day to tear down those in -national colours.”</p> - -<p>All around us foreign invaders are tearing our -country to bits with impunity. In the capital, hired -little Hungarian boys destroy its image.</p> - -<p>The future lacerating itself.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 14th.</i></p> - -<p>I think that has pained me more than anything -else. The face of that boy has haunted me ever since -I saw it. Whose contrivance is it that we should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> -come to this? A new teacher walks among the -children, a devilish red shadow has mounted the -teacher’s desk. It takes away from us the last thing -that remained to console us. It started many years -ago in the factories, then it prowled about the -barrack-squares, and now it invades the schools. It -puts up “confidential” boys and girls in opposition -to the teacher’s authority and gives them everything -they were not allowed to touch before. “It was all -stupid lies,” it whispers incessantly, and gives them -the idea of Divinity as a target for their pea-shooters, -and the map of their country, with all it stands for, -to make kites with. It even betrays their parents to -them: “don’t respect them!” it says. “You are -only the result of their lasciviousness. They -only sought their own pleasure in your existence, and -you owe them neither gratitude nor obedience.”</p> - -<p>The devilish red shadow threatens morals with -ever increasing impudence. “Let the human mind -be set free,” said Kunfi, and he replaced religious -teaching in the schools by the exposition of sexual -knowledge. Jewish medical students and lady -doctors give erotical lectures to little boys and girls, -and, so as to make their subject quite clear, films are -shown which display what the children fail to understand. -I heard of two little girls who lost their -mental balance in consequence of these lectures. -Some children come home disgusted and fall in tears -into their mother’s lap. But there are also those who -laugh and say horrible things to their parents. After -robbing the land the theft of souls has started, and -Jesus appeals in vain that the little children be -allowed to come unto Him: they must go no more.</p> - -<p>A woman came to our office to-day. “The children -turn against me,” she complained, and her voice -broke. “School has robbed me of their hearts.”</p> - -<p>I tried to console her, but she only shook her head: -“What has been defiled in the children’s soul can -never be cleansed again.”</p> - -<p>I did not know what to say. After all, she was -right.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Talk is buzzing behind me. Voices are raised. -Somebody coming from Sopron says that the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span> -Austrians are covering the whole of West Hungary -with their propaganda. The Czechs want a Slav -corridor in those parts, right down to the Adriatic -Sea. Another voice gives news of the British: -“Don’t you know? They have decided that the -whole navigation on the Danube is to pass into the -hands of the Czechs, including all Hungarian -vessels”.... “The Roumanians are advancing -steadily,” says a whisper. “In Paris they cannot -advance the line of demarcation as fast as they -pass beyond it.”</p> - -<p>In one county the Workers’ Council has expelled -the landlords and various estates have already been -socialised. Young Jews from provincial towns now -direct and control the old stewards and bailiffs who -have grown old in hard work on the estates. One -voice rose in alarm: “The Government is impounding -all banking accounts and safe-deposits. There is a -run on the banks. Something awful is going to -happen.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I looked at the woman near the window who was -wiping the tears from her eyes. Lands, rivers, old -estates, acquired fortunes, money, gold—they are -lost, but they can be recovered. But what that -woman is weeping for is lost for ever.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 15th.</i></p> - -<p>This is the 70th anniversary of our glorious revolution -of 1848. During the period of Austrian -absolutism which followed it the nation commemorated -it in secret. Then once more the flowers of that -day, the national flags, were allowed to be unfurled -freely. Anthems, songs, speeches, processions with -flags. For half a century March the 15th was a -service at the altar of liberty.</p> - -<p>This day has never passed so dull and mute as it -has this year. The flags, which have practically -rotted off their staffs in the last few months, have -lately become rare, and to-day they have not reappeared. -It is said that it was by request of the -Communist party that the Government has repudiated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> -this day, though it claims to be its spiritual -descendant.</p> - -<p>The town, quiet during the day, went to sleep -early. The March wind blows cold and chases -through dark empty streets. The shop-signs swing -like black shadows, and the brass plates of barbers’ -shops dance in the air.</p> - -<p>Our street sleeps too. Through its dream a step -breaks now and then. In the next room the clock -with the alabaster pillars strikes midnight in hesitating -strokes. Who goes there, in this stormy night?</p> - -<p>I seem to see him. He is tall and wears an old-fashioned -shabby dolman. His white shirt is folded -over it, and the wind plays with the soft collar. His -face is scarcely visible, so far has he drawn the cap -over his eyes. He goes on and on, through empty, -unfriendly streets. His spurs clink, and his big -sword knocks against his boots. A motor races -through the streets, its interior lit up by an electric -bulb. A heavy-featured fat man leans back into the -cushions. A patrol turns the corner. “Pogány,” -says one of the men. The boots of Red soldiers tramp -unsteadily on the pavement. They pass the man in -the dolman, look in his direction, but see him not. -His fluttering collar touches them, but they feel it -not. And he just glares at the red gashes left on -their caps where the national cockades have been -torn off.</p> - -<p>“<i>What have you done with my rosettes?</i>”</p> - -<p>His face turns paler than death. He goes on. His -eyes wander over the empty flag-staffs between the -red flags.</p> - -<p>“<i>What have you done to my flags?</i>”</p> - -<p>His way takes him past some lighted windows. -They are working up there in an editorial office. Red -soldiers stand with cocked revolvers in front of the -editorial table. They are the censors, and the rotary -presses hum in the cellars. Compositors in linen -overalls, besmeared with ink, lean over their work.</p> - -<p>“<i>What have you done with my free press? What -have you done with its freedom born in March?</i>”</p> - -<p>He leans over the compositors’ shoulders, and his -eyes pass over the letters. They do not see him, nor -hear him; they go on composing the line: “Under -the statue of Alexander Petöfi, Eugene Landler spoke<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span> -of the significance of March 15th. The choir sang -the Marseillaise.”</p> - -<p>“<i>What have you done with my songs?</i>”</p> - -<p>He goes on again, dark and alone. He knows the -streets, he knows the garden, the big quiet house -with its pillars, between the rigid, wintry trees. He -has reached the Museum. Under his hand the handle -of the locked, barred gate gives way. The guardian -wakes and looks out of his shelter. Nothing—it was -a dream. The wind whistles, and the wanderer’s -collar flutters as he mounts the lofty stairs and stops -at the top against the wall. He looks down, standing -long immobile, and asks the winds why there is nobody -to call: “Magyars! Arise!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Don’t they know it here? Who are the masters -now, under Hargita and on the fields of Segesvár?</i>”</p> - -<p>He is tired and would like to stretch himself at -ease after the long sad road.</p> - -<p>“<i>To whom have you given my grave?</i>”</p> - -<p>There is no rest and there is no place for him to go -to, he whose ghost had led me through the town on -this homeless fifteenth of March.</p> - -<p>Oh let him go, let him go in silence, for should he -remain here and raise his voice to-morrow the Government -of ‘Independent Hungary’ would arrest him as -a counter-revolutionary.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 16th.</i></p> - -<p>I was at Fóth to-day, where I had intended to -address the village women. But the bubbles rise no -longer in the wine of Fóth. Spring has a heavy, -foreboding atmosphere there to-day.</p> - -<p>I went with two friends. Beyond the town white -patches of snow were melting on the awakening black -soil. The waters of winter flowed with a soft gurgle -in the ditches.</p> - -<p>“We cannot have a meeting to-day in the village,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> -I was told. “Another time, next week ... there is -a Social Democratic mass-meeting in the town hall, -and a memorial service for those killed in the war at -the cemetery. There is a lot of excitement, and I’m -afraid the meeting of women would be interfered -with.”</p> - -<p>We listened to the speeches from a window of the -town hall. They differed widely from Budapest’s -orations. Here, the half-hearted war-cries were -shouted under the national colours and mixed with -hero-worship. It was the same in the cemetery. -Then suddenly a drunken soldier stood up on the -mound of a grave. Hatred was in his face and dark -threats poured from his lips: “Let the gentle-folk -learn. We are going to teach them. They cheated -the people, and drove them into death. But just you -wait now that we have got the power....”</p> - -<p>Night was falling when our crowded train entered -Budapest. There were no cabs, they have been on -strike for the last four days, and I couldn’t get on to -an electric car. A soldier shoved me aside and -dragged me off the steps. I watched him pushing -his way in among the passengers to make room for -himself. Apparently somebody shoved him back, for -he drew his revolver and began to shoot at random. -The car stopped, the passengers jumped off, -women shrieked and there was a panic.</p> - -<p>I walked along the streets. Nearly everywhere the -pavement was pulled up and here and there red -warning lamps blinked near the holes, but there -were no road-menders. I thought of an old -engraving of the French revolution. In the picture -there were narrow old houses, and between them -barricades on which figures in tight check trousers, -and with top hats, but without coats, were shooting -with very long guns with fixed bayonets. Barricades? -Why, these paving stones practically offered themselves -for that purpose.</p> - -<p>What is it preparing for, this town which becomes -stranger every day? What is it scheming now, when -nearly every voice in it has been silenced and only -the mind of the rabble finds expression? As I passed -under the mass of the cathedral I looked up at its -tower where a big bell hangs, high above all the -towers and bells of the town. I remembered its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> -voice. If only it might speak—but not to call to -Mass. I want to hear it sound the tocsin, in desperate -appeal....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 17th-18th.</i></p> - -<p>People speak to me and I answer them; what I -say sounds quite natural, yet I am only partly there, -only bodily; the rest of me is walking ahead of myself -and counting the hours.</p> - -<p>I made a speech at a meeting to-day, and then -wrote letters in the office, after which I had a talk -with the secretary. Perhaps people didn’t notice that -my mind is now haunted by a single idea, an expectant -desperate idea. The secretary had been in the -country.... Bad news.... He had spoken to -Bishop Prohaszka, who told him that a sharp plough -is being prepared to tear up the soul of the Hungarian -people. It will make a deep furrow, but it has to -be, so as to make the ground the more fertile.</p> - -<p>“It will be so,” I said, as if I had heard the words -of the bishop with the soul of Assisi repeated in my -dream.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>The night between 19th-20th March.</i></p> - -<p>The last embers died out in the fireplace: I began -to shiver, yet I did not move. I sat in my chair in -front of my writing-table and felt shudders running -down my back.</p> - -<p>I ought to have written my last manifesto in the -name of the Association. I began it, but at the end -of the first sentence the pen stopped in my hand, -would not go on, drew aimless lines, and went on -scratching when the ink had dried on it. Then it fell -from my hand and rolled on the table. I took up a -book at random, held it for a long time in my hands, -and looked at its lettering. I don’t know what it -was. I closed it and shut my eyes. One hears better -like that, and I am waiting.</p> - -<p>The hours struck one after the other. Twelve, one, -half-past one, a quarter to two.... I put out the -lamp and opened the window.</p> - -<p>I went back to my table. The cold was streaming -in through the open window and made me shiver.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> -The silence quivered, and it seemed to me as though -a huge artery was throbbing in the air.</p> - -<p>The clock struck two.</p> - -<p>It is time now.... Every nerve in my body was -at high tension, my neck became rigid.</p> - -<p>I don’t know how long it lasted. I felt colder and -colder. The clock struck again. Perhaps it was fast.... -About half an hour may have passed. My -stiffness began to relax, as if the very bones of my -body had melted; my head drooped.</p> - -<p>So they have postponed it again!</p> - -<p>It had been fixed for two o’clock this morning. -We have arms enough, and the police and the gendarmery -are on our side. But the signal did not -come. The bells of the cathedral never sounded.</p> - -<p>What has happened? Will it sound to-morrow, or -the day after?</p> - -<p>If only it is not too late....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 20th.</i></p> - -<p>The night of the counter-revolution had been fixed -for so many dates and had been postponed so many -times that hope began to tire. Will it ever come? I -thought. With an effort I roused myself from my -weariness and concentrated my whole mind once -more on expectation.</p> - -<p>The town, too, seemed expectant, the very streets -on the alert—at any rate so it seemed to me: there -was an expectant silence in the very dawn. There were -no newspapers—it is said that the compositors have -struck for higher wages. I went to the bank. The -Government has impounded all deposits, and no money -is to be got anywhere. The shutters are drawn and -the crowd outside pushes and swears in panic.</p> - -<p>All sorts of rumours are flying about. Somebody -reports that the Communist army is preparing something: -disbanded soldiers are holding threatening -meetings all over the suburbs, insisting on the release -of Béla Kún and his companions. It is also reported -that Michael Károlyi is planning something. In his -hatred he had once sworn that he would destroy -Tisza, even if the nation had to perish with him. -Tisza is dead, but his soul has risen against Károlyi -in the whole nation. And so Károlyi prepares a new<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span> -vengeance. It is rumoured that this is not directed -against Magyardom alone, which has regained consciousness -and repudiates him, but also against the -Entente, which will have nothing to do with him.</p> - -<p>What is going to happen to us?</p> - -<p>I went to the meeting of the Party of National -Unity this afternoon and exchanged a few words -with Count Stephen Bethlen. He said that great -changes are to be expected; the powers of the -Entente had informed Károlyi through their representatives -that they would show consideration to a -level-headed Government. To give weight to their -demand they threatened us through Colonel Vyx with -new lines of demarcation. Count Bethlen thought -the situation less desperate than it had been lately, -and I was reassured for a time.</p> - -<p>I came home with a friend through remarkably -crowded streets. She lived a long way off and we -were late, so she stayed with us for the night. I -roused myself in the evening and we worked together -on the women’s manifesto. It was about midnight -when my mother came in to us, and, as I usually do -when I have written something, I asked her opinion -and followed her advice. Then she drove us off to -bed. When I was left alone I tried to allay my restlessness -by polishing the manuscript. Thus the time -passed. It was two o’clock.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, I don’t know why, yesterday’s excited -expectation came over me again. I looked up and -thought I heard the clanging of a bell a great distance -away. My throat became dry, and my heart beat -madly. I threw the window open.</p> - -<p>But out there all was hopelessly quiet. It was just -an hallucination.... For a while I leaned out into -the cold, black street. A shot was fired. Then the -night resumed its stillness.</p> - -<p>“I can stand it no longer.” How often did we say -that during the war! Then came the protracted -debâcle of autumn; then winter, and our country -was torn to pieces. We can’t stand it.... But we -stood it. And who knows how much more we shall -have to stand this spring?</p> - -<p>I leaned on the window-sill, and in the dark I -began to see visions, as if I were dreaming a nightmare. -Suddenly the visions became definite. I saw<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span> -myself in a big ugly house, with unusually high windows, -opening in its bare high walls. We were -sitting in the last room, waiting for something which -we could not escape. There was no door in the room -leading into the open, and down there the gate was -wide open, with nobody to guard it. Through the -draughty porch steps came inwards, and nobody -stopped them. They came up the stairs. For some -time one door in the house opened after another. -One more, and one more, each nearer than the -last....</p> - -<p>We can’t stand it any longer.... The minutes -stretch to horrible infinity, and yet we cannot move, -and expectation becomes terror. The steps are -already hesitating at the last door. Something is -happening there. Nobody is yet visible, but the -door-handle moves, slowly, carefully, and then it -creaks.</p> - -<p>For God’s sake open it. Let anything happen, -whatever it is, but only let it happen!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><i>March 21st.</i></p> - -<p>Rain falls, and water flows from the dilapidated -gutters. The drops beat on the metal edging of my -window and sound as if a skeleton finger were knocking, -asking for admittance.</p> - -<p>The hall bell rang. It was Countess Chotek -bringing a contribution for the Association. Then -Countess Mikes arrived, though it was not yet nine -o’clock. She whispered in my ear: “I have very -bad news. I must speak to you.”</p> - -<p>I took the money and we went out. She told me -in the carriage that a reliable person had been present -yesterday at a Communist meeting. The majority -of workmen had gone over to the Communist party—the -iron and metal workers had all gone over—and -they had decided henceforth to oppose the parties in -power and at the same time break down the counter-revolution.</p> - -<p>Is the demoniacal magician who with his evil eye -has cast a spell of suicidal lethargy over the whole -nation now going to close his hand definitely on his -benumbed prey?</p> - -<p>We went to the offices of the Association and had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span> -scarcely arrived there when Countess Louis Batthyány -rushed in and signalled to me. We retired to a -corner. It was only then that I noticed how thin and -deadly pale her face was. She spoke nervously. The -Government had resigned. Colonel Vyx had handed -it an ultimatum. The Entente has again advanced -the line of demarcation and now asks also for a -neutral zone. And Károlyi, on reliable information, -wants to hand over the power to the Communists.</p> - -<p>So that was Károlyi’s vengeance....</p> - -<p>Elisabeth Kállay and her sister came in. On -hearing the news they rushed off again to inform -Archduke Joseph, and went also to Stephen Bethlen -to ask him to attempt the impossible with the delegates -of the Entente.</p> - -<p>Within the last few days Colonel Vyx has withdrawn -the French Forces from Budapest. All in all -there might be about three hundred Spahis in the -neighbourhood. He knew what was going on. Was -he intentionally depriving the population of the -town of their only safeguard?</p> - -<p>Countess Batthyány got up to go. Before leaving -she whispered in my ear that I must escape during -the night, as my name was on the first list of persons -to be arrested.</p> - -<p>I went home. It poured the whole afternoon and -the rain beat a tattoo on my window. I telephoned -for my sister, speaking softly so that my mother, who -was ill in bed, could not hear. She knows nothing as -yet.</p> - -<p>Later, a friend came to tell me that it was essential -for me to escape, they had decided to hang me; so -when Countess Chotek came back I returned the -money to her which she had brought in the morning -for the Association, saying, “It would not be safe -any longer with me.” She brought the same warning -as my other friend.</p> - -<p>“I won’t go,” I said. “It would be cowardice -to run away. If they want to arrest me, let them do -it. I shall stay here.”</p> - -<p>“But we shall need you later, when we can -resume our work,” my friend said, and tried to persuade -me. “I would take you with me, but you -wouldn’t be safe there, for they’re sure to search our -place for my brother.” I listened to her patiently,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span> -but I felt neither fear nor excitement, perhaps because -of a curious illusion I had that the talk was not -about me, but about somebody else.</p> - -<p>About seven o’clock a young journalist friend -came to us, deadly pale. He closed the door quickly -behind him, and looked round anxiously as if he feared -he had been followed. He also looked terrified.</p> - -<p>“Károlyi has resigned,” he said in a strained -voice. “He sent Kunfi from the cabinet meeting to -fetch Béla Kún from prison. Kunfi brought Béla -Kún to the Prime Minister’s house in a motor -car. The Socialists and Communists have come -to an agreement and have formed a Directory -of which Béla Kún, Tibor Számuelly, Sigmund -Kunfi, Joseph Pogány and Béla Vágó are to be the -members. They are going to establish revolutionary -tribunals and will make many arrests to-night. Save -yourself—don’t deliver yourself up to their -vengeance.”</p> - -<p>Even as he spoke, shooting started in the street -outside. Suddenly I remembered my night’s -vision.... We are in the big ungainly house ... -the door handle of the last room is turning, and the -last door opens....</p> - -<p>An awful voice shrieked along the street:</p> - -<p>“<span class="allsmcap">LONG LIVE THE DICTATORSHIP OF THE PROLETARIAT!</span>”</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTES</h2> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> <i>The People’s Voice</i>, a Social Democratic newspaper.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> It should be remembered that the Hungarian Freemasonry -had become, like the Grand Orient de France, a political association -and is fundamentally different from English Freemasonry. <span class="smcap spacer">[Translator.]</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Joseph II. would never consent to be crowned.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> <i>The Old House.</i></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Black and Yellow was the flag of the Hapsburgs, consequently -of the Austro-Hungarian army, and was always disliked in Hungary -as antagonistic to national aspirations.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> The ghost is Petöfi, the national poet of Hungary, who, on -March 15, 1848, roused the country with his famous song “Magyars! -Arise!” He fought in the War of Independence and died a -hero’s death on the battlefield of Segesvár, in Transylvania, where -he lies in an unknown grave. His poem, the national song, -started the revolution. (’48)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> The second part of Miss Tormay’s diary, containing the account -of the Commune and of her escape and pursuit, will be published -as soon as possible.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTLAW'S DIARY: REVOLUTION ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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