# The Hungarian Revolution/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST OF
OCTOBER.
Budapest is steeped in a sea of joy.
Laughing faces rejoiced in that day, which had to come, and came. Like a marriage was the union of the land with its new leaders, and only one who was there could measure the sorrow of the past by the excess of gladness which this young day prepared and spread abroad.
In those hours all that made for separation among men—year-long influences—were stilled, and the last bands which united the to-day with a long past yesterday were loosed.
The Republic was there—undeniably—and was enduring, as was her right. . . .
Was it a feeling that, without concrete news being sent to the front (this being hindered by counter-measures of the High-Command, in Baden) a knowledge of the change in the life of the State was yet penetrating to distant lands?
Hope here outran facts. . . .
The street remained the truest symbol of what had happened. The soldiers had been relieved of an iron and cramping coercion of discipline, and showed their joy at it.
At the East and West Railway Stations were endless throngs. A double process had developed itself: the people kept away from their homes grasped with both hands at every chance, of returning, and every few minutes long trains rolled out of the stations, crowded inside, and ​packed with men on the steps, the couplings, the roofs; while unnumbered throngs were arriving from every part of the country.
But in place of the over-strained discipline of the bye-laws of the military jurisdiction, another discipline had arisen, springing splendid out of the free will of the people. The energy and organisation of the workers created out of nothing an excellent system of orderly methods, which in these days of great uncertainty made themselves felt. During the night, too, no disturbances worthy of note came to light, and it was the people themselves who held in check certain small knots of misusers of the blocked official vehicles. I saw numberless rapid emergency-motors which flew through the city with well-armed bodies of men to prevent robbery and plunder in the outer city precincts. It was satisfactory to see in these hours how the Revolution made innumerable people its unselfish friends—not friends in theory merely, but men with strong arms who were ready to prevent any discredit attaching to what had been won, and, withstanding a thousand temptations, remained true to their service in the cause of order.
Beside the Social-Democrats, who bore the chief burden, a significant share in the creation of the organisation of security was taken by the Bourgeois Radical Party, in whose Club in the Oktogon-Platz a feverish activity reigned, and they contributed much assistance to the work.
It was a quaint sight to see quite young students with red bands on their sleeves working as "Commissaries of Safety." They lacked authority, but a warm joy in their office occupied them all, even those who were mere onlookers.
Then toward midday came the first greater avalanche of rumours.
In the Underground-railway an elderly man was earnest in getting me to understand that Anarchy impended, and he informed me with the air of one "in the know" that General Kôvess was marching against the capital with an enormous army; whereupon another stranger declared that there could be no counter-revolution, since the revolutionary Government had seized all the hand-grenades. Others said they knew that the Austrian-Hungarian Bank had just been plundered, ​while a soldier volunteered the information that he was just from Vienna, where the workers had stormed the Arsenal, and armed swarms were out against the country: they were already fighting at Pozsony, some military detachments had surrendered, some had resisted. . . .
An old peasant assured me at the Gizellaplatz that he had come to Budapest with the single object of seeing the Crown Prince Rudolf. Seeing the puzzled expression of my face, he assured me that out there in the country it was perfectly well known that the whole revolution was the work of none but the Crown Prince Rudolf, who, hitherto kept a prisoner by King Karl, had now been set free, and under the name "Count Kàrolyi" was making a Republic. The good man would not be convinced of the senselessness of his account of things, insisted upon the certainty of his version, kept on repeating that Count Kàrolyi and the Crown Prince were one, and now finally he himself wanted to see the Crown Prince. . . .Vexed at my laughing, he moved away, and I saw his form -vanish into the Dorotheerstrasse. He was obviously really going to Ofen. to look up the Crown Prince. . . .
An incident, this, which shows how much the phantasy of the common people clings round a person in whom is centred anything even a little legendary. The destiny of the Crown Prince Rudolf, the shadows over Mayerling—all this, mere Court history, if seen with cold eyes, nothing romantic—draws the man from the country. He will not have his mental picture taken from him. And he is content with the Republic—without drawing into any closer contact with it—because what is extraordinary in the moment makes legend-building possible to him.
Really serious news arrived in the afternoon.
In Muraköz, in South-western Hungary, the flag of misrule was beginning to fly. Little news came to hand, and that was proportionately exaggerated. What I myself hears was from railway travellers who said that insecurity reigned along the Croatian lines, Croatian bands were seizing the trains, and many castles were being plundered. Unfortunately, a considerable proportion of these tidings proved true later on; and it will be one of the saddest chapters in the ​history of the Revolution, that at a time when all Hungarian Departments, and all local National Councils, were spending themselves in the effort to maintain order, in Croatia every good result was rendered impossible through the toleration flown there of conditions which might have been held up to the wildest Wild-West as examples in atrocity. This conduct may be taken as the touch-stone and measure of the level of the populations. While in Hungarian districts only the elements really dangerous even in quiet times took part in the work of disturbance, in many districts which are emphatically not Magyar even the more responsible parts of the population permitted themselves; to commit acts, which, under the name of political struggles, were really crimes against property.
In the Hungarian Province the organised working-class at once set to work, and, from what I heard from the most diverse parts of the country, they contributed worthily to the support of the statement, which is hardly to be denied, that the Hungarian and German elements, among all the nationals of the country, evinced most discipline and self-culture. The Germans of Hungary, with their sobriety and sureness of comprehension, were solid supports of order in the first days of the new time.
In the late afternoon the force of special guardians of the peace was already formed, and I saw the numberless soldiers of the Republic, with their badges on their sleeves, looking after public order.
Later on came more stirring news out of the interior.
People at this hour were under the impression that the will of the people, now set free, might rage out into anarchy. But, on the other side, the regulations were so clear-cut, and there was such a mass of strength and initiative at hand, that I felt little doubt even in the most critical period of the uproar. I was sure there would be great disturbances, but did not lose faith in the possibility of handling them, and was disinclined to give credence to overheated fancies.
Time, so far at least, has proved me right.
The most important events, meantime, cropped up in the evening.
​In the National Council reigned a feverish activity. From hour to hour grew tho load of work, and as the mass of the people had recognised the National Council as absolutely the sole authority, quite fantastic incidents occurred in the despatch of business. The public services had enough to do with the execution of the orders of tho National Council, so that the people threw the false conclusion that the National Council was the place for every possible sort of business to be done.
People came with the most private, silly, trivial concerns to the National Council, and the cordon of police had enough to do to turn away the innumerable people who came with laughable affairs.
Between fateful sittings the leading men had to receive Corporations, the President of the National Council, Johann Hock, a priest-deputy, had to act as an arbiter and tranquiliser, and in the midst of the crisis came some who could not be got to see that the making of the oath could be made as well some days later. . . .Everyone wanted with the hottest zeal to be "there," wanted to show that he felt himself one with the National Council, and wished to serve it and place his powers at its disposal. . . .
The will of the people had been spontaneously exhibited. Especially now that it could be fairly assumed that the Revolution was safe from the attacks of reaction, having considerable armed force at its disposal—especially now came out the shrinkers, who had not wished to venture all in the first moments. And precisely these came with the loudest words and the liveliest gestures. In this respect Man—that sort of Man—remains ever like himself. . . .
The Government was, in respect of its personnel, according to the wishes of the people; but not in respect of its political structure. It was felt that the Ruler had yielded to the pressure of force, not to reason. And so it was demanded ever more pressingly, more distinctly, more threateningly that the Government, which had to thank the confidence of the people for its effective might, whose support the masses solely and only were—that this Government must drop any toying with the monarchical form.
​The first definite impulse toward becoming a Republic: in the evening a conversation over the telephone took place between Count Michael Kàrolyi and Karl IV.
Kàrolyi informed the King of the situation and the opinions that were lord over the land. Formerly it had been said "The Premier reports to the Monarch, upon which the latter makes the necessary decisions, and trusts the Premier with their execution." This time, however, it was rather the other way about. The Monarch was silent, and the Premier, so to say, received his own report—and, Karl, by the Grace of God, first Emperor of his name of Austria, and of the same name fourth apostolic King of Hungary, yielded to necessity, released Kàrolyi from his oath of fealty, which he had first made to the Ruler the day before, and said that this release held good for the other Ministers also. . . .And the Ministers at once took over their offices as popularly-appointed Ministers, who at once decided to renounce their title and address of "Excellency."
It was about half-past seven.
The National Council, and the Workers' and Soldiers' Council, which also, all at once, was now there, were holding a common sitting in the Stadthaus.
And now happened the unwonted. Without pomp and ceremony, without the usual fuss, appeared the Ministers of Kàrolyi's Cabinet, the first Hungarian People's Ministry.
With immense applause were they greeted. And the President of the National Council, Johann Hock, gave a short address, in which he sketched the development of the situation, whose final consequence took the shape of a People's Government. After him spake War Minister Béla Linder, who bluffly and bluntly announced the steps taken toward an armistice on all fronts, the command sent to General Kôvess to complete at once the negotiations, in which the sole condition was to be the retirement in every case from Hungarian soil of French, English and American troops. . . .
Again crackled past us a little piece of world-history. . . .
After the War-Minister, Kàrolyi began to speak. ​He announced that the King had released tho members of the Cabinet from their oath, and that the final determination of the form of the State would be left to the National Assembly to be convoked. In the same breath the Premier announced that all elections henceforth would be on the basis of the excellent private-members Election Bill embodying women's suffrage, the introduction and passage of which impended. If, however. the present Parliament yet again rejected this Bill, the Government would bring it in as required by the people's will, and by the people's will declare it law
Kàrolyi's speech aroused an indescribable demonstration of joy, through which trumpet-tones, clear shrilling. accompanied the unanimous cry:—
"Long live the Republic!"
From this day on, then, is the actuality of the Hungarian People's Republic to be dated. Although not yet formally declared, the situation as a whole could only have as its actual consequence that the state of Hungary from these hours had become a People's State, a Res Publica. . . .
After the Ministers' speeches there reigned in the National Council a most noisy agitation. A drunken joy overcame all.
And then through a soundless silence sounded the oaths of the Ministers, as they uttered to the President of the National Council the words:—
"I swear to hold fealty to Hungary, to guard her complete independence, with all my powers to advance the prosperity, the freedom, and the development of the country. So help me, God!"
In many a choked throat the shout of joy remained dumb. The Event was overpowering in its swiftness and smoothness, historic in its overpoweringness, in its historic value decisive.
The strains of the National hymn rang through the room, the noise of it spread, was taken up in corridors and landings, and far down and away from the building sounded at the same time the same air.
It touches close, this hymn.
Later it was told me in a Party club that the ​conversation between Kàrolyi and the King had been very short and sharp. The Monarch had spoken with Budapest from Pozsony, and he had then at once returned to Vienna. He intended to flee to Switzerland, as Vienna, too, had become unsafe.
I regarded this news as possible, even probable; and I record it because it seemed to me then like an irony of history, which even in her judgments does not forget the Symbol. Out of Switzerland fared the Hapsburgs of old into foreign lands, and now when their star vanished from heaven, and their earthly fortunes, as astrologers say in such cases, sank with the star, back they must needs go to the old soil, which endures in all the becoming and the passing away of men.
Fiat justitia. . . .
I must make mention of the late afternoon sheets, and of various private and semi-official utterances which already were being made about the old régime.
The chief objects of the attacks—beside the deposed magnates, Wekerle. Szterényi and Kursgenossen—were Count Andràssy, acting in Vienna, as Minister of the Exterior, and some gentlemen of the ancien régime, who as a body were exposed to the fiercest attacks.
At the time I thought to myself that this had to happen, in order to nip in the bud any possibility of the cropping up of conservative tendencies, this being accomplished by presenting every person at all prominent in an impossible light: I saw in it a system of self-defence through attack. What I now have to blame in it is its objective injustice. The People's Government is now strong enough to check the activities of unscrupulous elements. It is no longer justified to describe as criminal everyone who in some measure stands apart from the Revolution. But especially blameable is it to offer to foreign countries the spectacle, the inevitable spectacle, of the same known individual, who has torn them to shreds in his enmity, being himself torn to shreds with the same enmity of criticism. Pity that temper comes first and reason second.
I don't consider the discarded politicians ​worthy of having any words wasted on them, and these living men are to-day so dead, that a burial service over these political corpses would lack the true grave-side significance. But to throw all the men of a period into the same stew-pot, merely because they were contemporaries, is feeble and laughable in its effect. It is not for me to mention names: a personal intention may be scented, where none is. But the fact is important.
I will therefore only briefly refer to one figure.
Count Julius Andràssy is a personage of European fame, whom Hungary is impotent to abolish politically: he can only be deprived of power, which, however, does not touch his worth. To so violent a belittling of him the logical retort abroad must have been, how then was it possible that this man, if he really had all the faults ascribed with shrieks to him, could have been for ten years the political leader that he was. The reply that it was all politics-by-force is unjust. Andràssy has known how to make himself, to maintain, and even quite highly to distinguish himself, as a politician; has known through it all how to keep up a European tone, and has given costly refusals to cheap advertisement. He evinced a clear understanding and keen discernment, and riot to the least part of the worth of his personality are to be attributed many sympathies which Hungary now enjoys. Andràssy is now a branch sawn off, and the former régime of force has now emphatically become an affair of personal politics. But to want to make a Jack-pudding of a man whom the outer world values, respects, prizes, and looks upon as a representative person, of a man, in short, of the statesman-class by his innate capacity—this is a beginning that can only result in discredit. The political constellations have transformed themselves; people who wish to have a hand in things will naturally have to adapt themselves: but proof by negation is ever a weak way of reasoning. The voice of the people does not now allow of entering into any understanding with any name of the old school; but the denial of genuine human worth is lamentable, and I pity the busy reporter (who in Budapest is too often permitted to meddle in politics), because of his problem ​whether he shall pander to the mood of the moment, or shall follow his proper calling, which may run counter to that mood.
As I was going at half-past nine by the Gresham Palace to the Police Gendarmerie, a throng of armed people surprised me. It was said that about thirty thousand Russian prisoners-of-war had broken out of the prison-camp near Budapest. The Russians had then procured weapons of all sorts—even artillery, according to some accounts—by plundering depôts.
And now was presented afresh a startling proof of the capabilities of the city and its citizens.
The news spread rapidly through the streets; officers and civilians ran through the most out-of-the-way nooks, and a quite astonishing number of volunteers offered themselves, who, just as they were, as they came out of office or shop, cafá, restaurant or house, went on foot, by tram, many too by droshky, to the Municipal Gendarmerie, to be armed there. They all came quite willingly and spontaneously, to resist the reported advance of the Russians and protect the capital from irruption, plunder and anarchy. It was a singular sight to see one heavy motor-wagon after another roll off out of the courtyard of the Gendarmerie, thickly thronged with the most dissimilar people, all carrying rifles, revolvers, and, in the bottom of the wagons, machine-guns, to pass away over the Kettenbrücke and carry help and protection to the threatened outer parts of Ofen. In the Zrinyi-utca, the street in front of the Gendarmerie, were a crowd of officers, who spontaneously took over the command of the small groups.
A more agitated evening Budapest never had.
The house-doors were hurriedly closed; the cafés let down their revolving-shutters; only a few people were to be seen.
All this lasted perhaps half-an-hour.
And then came the relief. . . .
There were no Russian hordes coming—not thirty thousand, not twenty, not ten thousand—in fact, no thousands, only some troops of prisoners, who, without arms, only armed with their cartridge belts, were making, singing, toward Buda​pest to take their part in the joy of the Revolution. They wandered through the city, limited before the head-quarters of the Bourgeois Radical Party, sang some songs. . . .and dispersed peaceably.
It was a panic rumour which had some foundation in fact: but how the few Russians became whole divisions is still a riddle. Either it was that the agitated mind of the people by itself magnified the danger, or there were perhaps "order-loving" force; at work, who may have hoped that such a signal might create a possibility, by quick action, of plundering shops.
In the National Council, where I spoke of this matter about ten o'clock, reigned the gravest unrest and excitement. All sorts of "actions" were scented, suspected. But here also we succeeded soon in mobilizing adequate forces to contradict quickly the panic rumours, spread for the most part by honest patriots among themselves, and these bearers of enlightenment were able to lift the palsy which seemed to have seized the city.
During this tumult, besides, the completest discipline was maintained in a military sense. Officers and men, spurred by a like free-will, understood one another excellently, and even if armed masses of Russians had run loose upon Budapest, there is no doubt that militia, volunteers and regulars could have thrown back even considerable forces.
The panic rumour furnished the comforting evidence that the capital could not easily become the cock-pit of civil strifes; it was a question here of striving for tranquility, for order, for the security of life and property.
For this fight the people of Budapest was ready, armed, and inured.
After the denial of the rumour, the people revived visibly, the cafés up to the early closing hour were fuller than could have been thought possible, and the gipsies played, there was singing—only drink failed all. For the strictest prohibition by the Government let no drop of alcohol flow.
And that had failed now for a whole day. . . .it failed all; me, too.