Hungary -- History -- Revolution, 1918-1919 -- Personal narratives; Tormay, Cécile, 1876-1937 -- Diaries
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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