Communism -- Hungary; Hungary -- History -- Revolution, 1918-1919 -- Personal narratives; Tormay, Cécile, 1876-1937 -- Diaries
In the adjoining houses people only sleep in the daytime: at night they
look trembling towards the House of Parliament from behind their
darkened windows. Above the entrance of the House of Lords shines a huge
arc lamp. Motors pass incessantly. This is the time when the terrorists
collect the hostages, the material for Korvin-Klein. The cars stop under
the lamp. The light shows leather-coated men dragging along their
miserable victims, whom they push into the entrance. Now and then a
scream filters through the walls of the House of Parliament. Then, as if
by word of command, the engines of the motors begin to purr, the horns
are blown to drown every groan, every death rattle. Armed Lenin Boys
emerge from the gate, dragging a form with them. The group proceeds to
the lower quay. Arms clatter, the steps die away in the distance. There
is a splash. Then the black group returns, but there is no longer anyone
in their midst. Romanelli has protested against public executions. But
near the House of Parliament people cannot sleep at night.
The streets are dark and empty. In the whole town there is but one other
doorway lit up: under a red canopy an arc lamp burns above the door of
Soviet House. Beside it is a small trench mortar and terrorists stand on
the pavement in front of it. On the balcony a huge red flag hides the
machine-guns, and the entrance is vividly illuminated. The People’s
Commissaries arrive in motor-cars. The terrorists line up. Present arms!
Mrs. Béla Kun receives the same honours. And within the walls of Soviet
House the comrades insist on being called ‘Excellencies.’
A country gentleman told me about this; ignorant of the change he went
straight from the station to the Hungaria Hotel. The guards mistook him
for somebody belonging to the place, and only when he wanted to pay his
bill did they discover that he was an outsider. Afraid of being
punished, the frightened servants smuggled him out and the news of the
orgies in Soviet House escaped with him. Michael Károlyi and his wife
spend an evening there now and then.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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