whole world was on the brink of revolution? Could it be that after our revolution in Budapest I was now heading for similar upheavals abroad? Had those four terrible years of war led only to a universal destruction of order?
The Hungarian press had been full of stories of revolution breaking out everywhere, mostly issued by the government’s press office. I tried to recall some of them. On 8 November, I remember it was, they told how there had been a Bolshevik uprising in Zürich which, the story went, had spread to the whole canton. This one happened to be true, although no one told us of its suppression, nor that after a few days the other cantons had firmly finished it off. Then, in December, we had learned that in Berlin one Liebknecht had attempted a Communist takeover under the name of ‘Spartacus’ from which the government in Weimar had only managed to extricate itself by some intricate bargaining. Other stories concerned uprisings and army mutinies in France and Italy, where whole regiments were said to have hoisted the Red Flag!
No one knew if these stories were true, as few foreign papers reached Budapest. We read these stories with profound reservations , especially those about those countries who had won the war, since everyone knew that Károlyi’s politics were firmly based on his belief that revolutions would break out everywhere.
We did not know much more about what was happening in Vienna. All that was certain was that the Socialists were in power and that those feeble politicians that the revolution had banished from their velvet-covered bureau chairs had been swept away God knows where.
At home in Budapest we were faced with a disturbingly imprecise picture of what recent events had brought about. It was like the multifarious little segments of a mosaic, which had to be fitted together to form the finished picture. All thosespontaneous, enthusiastic public demonstrations were long past, while members of the new government tried to restore general confidence by slandering their enemies while praising themselves . The last of these festivities was to be the declaration in parliament, and to those gathered in the square outside, that Hungary had become a republic. After that, nothing. And so it was not long before it turned out that whenever there was a public demonstration, it was not for Károlyi but against him.
At this final mummery it was clearer than ever before – far more so than on that evening of revolution earlier in October – how the unrelenting grind of the war had deadened all feelings of faith and confidence in men’s hearts, and that these qualities had now been replaced by a general sense of timidity and passivity . On that first night of revolution the people of Budapest were still alive, ready to express their opinions freely, with zest, pleased surprise and enthusiasm. This was no longer true today, principally because the government (the ‘People’s Government’, as they liked to be called) had now taken to handling all matters in a tamer, less assured manner.
Desperate to avoid being accused of achieving their aims by force, they decided to consult the leaders of both Houses of Parliament. The president of the Upper House, Gyula Wlassich, insisted on strict application of the law. He declared that by law the parliament could only be dissolved by established legal procedure. Therefore his powers extended only to adjourning the House for an indefinite period. He persisted in this view, partly out of sheer captiousness, for it was clear that the consultation was a mere formality, but also, and this was more important, because in those troubled times it was essential, if possible, to maintain the principle that the rule of law should be inviolate and that one should not humble oneself before an upstart power.
This was a rare virtue in those days and much appreciated.
The Speaker of the House of Representatives took another line. It must be admitted that his situation was
The Hungarian press had been full of stories of revolution breaking out everywhere, mostly issued by the government’s press office. I tried to recall some of them. On 8 November, I remember it was, they told how there had been a Bolshevik uprising in Zürich which, the story went, had spread to the whole canton. This one happened to be true, although no one told us of its suppression, nor that after a few days the other cantons had firmly finished it off. Then, in December, we had learned that in Berlin one Liebknecht had attempted a Communist takeover under the name of ‘Spartacus’ from which the government in Weimar had only managed to extricate itself by some intricate bargaining. Other stories concerned uprisings and army mutinies in France and Italy, where whole regiments were said to have hoisted the Red Flag!
No one knew if these stories were true, as few foreign papers reached Budapest. We read these stories with profound reservations , especially those about those countries who had won the war, since everyone knew that Károlyi’s politics were firmly based on his belief that revolutions would break out everywhere.
We did not know much more about what was happening in Vienna. All that was certain was that the Socialists were in power and that those feeble politicians that the revolution had banished from their velvet-covered bureau chairs had been swept away God knows where.
At home in Budapest we were faced with a disturbingly imprecise picture of what recent events had brought about. It was like the multifarious little segments of a mosaic, which had to be fitted together to form the finished picture. All thosespontaneous, enthusiastic public demonstrations were long past, while members of the new government tried to restore general confidence by slandering their enemies while praising themselves . The last of these festivities was to be the declaration in parliament, and to those gathered in the square outside, that Hungary had become a republic. After that, nothing. And so it was not long before it turned out that whenever there was a public demonstration, it was not for Károlyi but against him.
At this final mummery it was clearer than ever before – far more so than on that evening of revolution earlier in October – how the unrelenting grind of the war had deadened all feelings of faith and confidence in men’s hearts, and that these qualities had now been replaced by a general sense of timidity and passivity . On that first night of revolution the people of Budapest were still alive, ready to express their opinions freely, with zest, pleased surprise and enthusiasm. This was no longer true today, principally because the government (the ‘People’s Government’, as they liked to be called) had now taken to handling all matters in a tamer, less assured manner.
Desperate to avoid being accused of achieving their aims by force, they decided to consult the leaders of both Houses of Parliament. The president of the Upper House, Gyula Wlassich, insisted on strict application of the law. He declared that by law the parliament could only be dissolved by established legal procedure. Therefore his powers extended only to adjourning the House for an indefinite period. He persisted in this view, partly out of sheer captiousness, for it was clear that the consultation was a mere formality, but also, and this was more important, because in those troubled times it was essential, if possible, to maintain the principle that the rule of law should be inviolate and that one should not humble oneself before an upstart power.
This was a rare virtue in those days and much appreciated.
The Speaker of the House of Representatives took another line. It must be admitted that his situation was
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