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.