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.”