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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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