Miklos Banffy - They Were Divided

At night Balint would go for long walks partly so as to escape from the four walls of his dismal little room and partly to tire himself out so that perhaps when he returned he would be able to sleep, to sleep as if he were already dead.

One afternoon, as he was sitting at his window staring at nothing, he gradually became aware of some unusual activity below; newsboys were rushing down the street excitedly calling out:

‘Extraausgabe — Ultimatum zurückgewiesen! — Extra! Extra! Ultimatum rejected!’ Passers-by were stopping and buying and then gathering in groups to discuss what they read. Balint could not imagine what had happened and so hurried down and bought a paper himself. He read the news quickly. Serbia had rejected an ultimatum from Vienna and the Austrian ambassador, Giessl, had already left Belgrade.

War! This could only mean war!

He could not stay a moment longer; so he packed hurriedly and took the first train out.

Home! He had to get home!

THE RAIL TRAFFIC WAS SO DENSE that it took two days for Balint to get to Budapest. He arrived at three in the afternoon.

The capital was in a fever of excitement. As yet there had been only partial mobilization, just enough to overrun Serbia.

‘At last!’ people said. ‘Now we’ll teach that rabble a lesson!’ Everyone was saying the same thing; the porters in the hotels, the shopkeepers, and even the newspapers. It seemed as if all the world had awoken from some enchanted sleep and in consequence was in high good humour. At the Casino Club it was the same, and some of the younger members were already strutting about in the gold braid of the Hussar uniform or the red and blue of the Lancers. ‘We’ll teach ’em!’ they cried.

All at once the air was filled with heroism and glory, and politics were forgotten. All those petty issues, which formerly had aroused such bitter hatreds, had been blown away by the winds of war.

Balint took refuge in the library. There he read all the papers of the last few days, both the national and international news, so as to learn what had happened between the sending of the ultimatum and its rejection. Then he went to the party headquarters which overlooked the boulevard at the corner of Dohany Street and the Karoly Ring, where he would learn the most recent news. Above all he wanted to see Tisza himself and ask how it was that they had got to that point, what preparations had been made and what he believed would be the result. Above all he wanted to know whether, if war did come, it could be limited to Serbia, or whether Russia was expected to intervene thereby starting a general European conflagration.

There was an immense crowd at the party headquarters, more than Balint had ever seen there before, filling all the rooms and as animated and merry as if drunk on champagne.

Most were discussing the fact that a big pro-war demonstration was shortly due to arrive before the building to cheer the party leader Tisza. Any minute now they should be there, enthusiastically shouting for war. This was wonderful, for all at once the government party had become popular again after always previously having been scornfully labelled the ‘lackeys of Turkey’, or ‘foreign slaves’, or ‘Vienna’s paid gaolers’, which for years had been the epithets lavished on them by the Coalition press. Now, at last, they were allowed to be full-blooded patriotic Hungarians!

The doors onto the balcony were open and many people stood there watching for the march down the Karoly Ring of all those who were on their way to acclaim the government, while those inside kept on asking if the demonstration was yet in sight.

Suddenly the cry arose: ‘Here they come! They’re turning the corner of the boulevard. Where is Tisza? They’ll be here any minute! Tisza! Where is Tisza?’

The Minister-President was sitting on a low chair in the hall, smoking a cigar and looking as remote and introspective as ever. He barely said a word to all those close associates who swarmed round him.

‘They’re coming now, they’re coming!’ And indeed down the boulevard there poured a huge concourse of people who filled the street and the pavements in line after line that stretched right across between the houses on each side. They came with military precision, carrying banners and singing the national anthem, thousands of voices raised high as they marched steadily forward.

In front of the party headquarters they stopped; and, from above, it was a most impressive sight. The great wide boulevard from Deak Square to Emperor Wilhelm Street was black with people. They were so many that no one could count them, but there must have been twenty or thirty thousand, perhaps more. All that could be seen of the dense crowd was a sea of hats and waving banners. Somewhere below the balcony someone started calling out, but there was so much noise that the words could not be heard. Then came a mighty roar: ‘Tisza! Hurrah for Tisza! Tisza and the War!’

The cry rang out from as far away as Deak Square and minutes passed as ‘Tisza and the War!’ reverberated from tens of thousands of throats.

Then someone started to make a speech from the balcony and, though he was cheered while speaking, and after he had finished, it was soon obvious that this was not enough. The people wanted Tisza, the Minister-President himself; and no one else would satisfy them.

‘Tisza! Tisza! We want Tisza!’ the crowd chanted from below.

Some men rushed in from the balcony. ‘They want you. They want you to speak to them,’ they cried. ‘What a day! They’re calling for you! They want you to speak to them. At last! At last!’

But Tisza made no move. He sent someone else in his stead.

Another speech was made; and another; and then several others and even one from a side balcony to show all those who could not find a place in front of the main balcony that their war-fever too was appreciated. This went on for some time, but though the people listened they were not satisfied. They had come for Tisza and they meant to hear him, only him, no one else would satisfy them. Again came the roar: ‘Tisza! Tisza!’ they shouted insistently, angrily.

Gabor Daniel, Pekar and several others ran back to Tisza.

‘You have to speak to them! They only want to hear you!’ they cried. For a long time they argued and insisted, distressed and upset by their leader’s stubborn refusal to move.

Further away some of his followers did not hide their resentment, muttering to each other that his stubbornness was impossible to understand. How could he, who for years had been the most hated man in Hungary, refuse to appear when everything had been changed and the mob was calling hysterically for him? Now they wanted to cheer him — and he wanted none of it! Now of all times, when it was so important. And they whispered to each other: ‘This is sheer masochism! He’s happy only when they hate him!’ The whole party was indignant.

They could not have known that Tisza was opposed to the war. No one knew, except only those who had attended the King’s Council meetings. On the day that the ultimatum had been decided, Tisza had at once resigned. He had remained in office only because ordered to by the monarch himself. He had resigned because he had thought that by doing so he would be able to modify the harsh terms of the ultimatum; but when he had found that his struggle would be in vain and that he would never be able to bring Berchtold and Conrad to his way of thinking, he had decided to stay as he knew that he alone was strong enough to hold the country together at such a critical time. At the express wish of the King he had agreed to keep his opposition secret, principally because he knew that Hungary’s new-found unity would be shattered if it was known what he really felt. So he accepted responsibility for a war he had fought hard to prevent. Out of a sense of duty he had accepted a task he loathed, the task of organizing a war knowing well what it would mean. He accepted it in silence, a silence that lasted until his death. And he never changed his opinion, even though it was hidden from the world. In his public speeches he spoke only of effort, duty and self-sacrifice; but he never tried to justify the conflict.