While he was there, István Friedrich and László Fényes, from their party headquarters, decided to lead the crowd that had gathered there – a crowd, it transpired later, that consisted mainly of workers from the outlying districts of the city – up to the fortress to ensure the appointment of Károlyi as prime minister by a show of force. ‘To Buda!’ they cried just as they had on the previous Friday.

With their two leaders at their head, the mob moved off only to find that the army had blocked Dorottya Street and formed a solid cordon in Maria-Valeria Square. There they learned that access to the Chain Bridge was also barred by the armed forces. Nevertheless, everything went well with them at first. The first two lines of guards made no resistance and let them through, as did the soldiers at Ferenc-József Square. There were police guarding the entrance to the Chain Bridge, but they only put up a token resistance, and soon the crowd had broken through. There, just where the stone lions stand, was a line of gendarmes.

This was serious. Some men tried to climb up from the roofs of the warehouse that stood below and so get onto the bridge behind the gendarmes. At this point they were met by a round of rifle fire, while the mounted police charged the crowd with drawn sabres. Helter-skelter the mob turned to flee. Scared and distressed, the workers ran for their lives back to the protection of the Károlyi party headquarters6, whence they had set out not long before.

As usual in such affairs, the leaders emerged unscathed, but there were three dead and some fifty wounded in that anonymous crowd which consisted largely of simple well-meaning factory workers. These were the victims. Ambulances took them to the Ritz where the hotel’s entrance hall was transformed into a hospital ward to give them first aid.

That was the story of the battle on Monday night.

It was this demonstration, which had drowned in its own blood, that effectively made it impossible for Károlyi to be part of the proposed government even if – and this I do not know – he had been willing to do so. This was the immediate result of the demonstration, and there were those who said that it had been organized with precisely this end in mind.

For those like myself who had distanced themselves as far as possible from the witch’s brew of politics, the next two days seemed to pass without any significant developments. But it was only the silence which precedes the storm: a silence full of disquiet for it was broken by the news that the machinery of state continued to disintegrate as the Budapest police force had gone over to the National Council!

In the streets the mob leaders were publicly embraced by those very police who, only the day before, had charged them with drawn sabres. It was in this climate that Count János Hadik formed his government, news of which was received everywhere with indifference, for I am sure that no one had any confidence in Hadik’s selfless initiative.

***

Now followed the evening of the real revolution.

I had dined in the Kaszino, as I had most evenings in the last few weeks, although fewer and fewer people had been there, and it must have been about eleven o’clock when we left the club, being the last to do so. There were three of us, together with another friend who was escorting the old chairman of the Jockey Club. We had taken to doing this in the last few days, for recently a number of suspicious-looking men had been seen loitering in the streets – a phenomenon previously unknown in the centre of the town, and from time to time gunshots had been heard.

As soon as we stepped out of the Kaszino’s front door it was promptly shut behind us. I glanced across the street towards the Hotel Astoria, which had been taken over as the National Council’s headquarters, and it seemed that rather more people than usual were gathered there, although there were probably not more than one or two hundred. No doubt someone had made a speech from the balcony and just as probably there had been some cheering in the street; although as this had been going on for more than a week we had become used to it. Not far away the streets were as dark and empty as they always had been at this time of night. Then some shots were heard coming from the direction of the Danube, but there was nothing unusual in this. I was alone by the time I crossed Calvin Square, and it was then that I heard repeated firing from Ráday Street. This was unusual. The rapid sound of bullets hitting the steel shutters of some shop made a loud cracking sound, almost a sort of howl. Although I was not unduly worried because we had heard it before, on this night there seemed to be more of this crazy random shooting than ever.

After getting home I must admit that I slept soundly, although occasionally, when still half-asleep, I seemed to hear more rumbling of heavy lorries passing under my windows than on previous nights. However, since the street outside was the habitual route for deliveries to the market halls nearby, and the market cars had always rattled past noisily long before dawn, it did not seem to be different from any other night in the year.

It was only later that I heard what had happened early that morning. When my old valet called me he announced three things: my bath had been prepared, revolution had broken out, and Count Mihály Károlyi was now Minister-President.

Soon afterwards István Zichy came to see me and related what he had seen and heard outside in the streets, and together we went out onto Museum Boulevard.

Most of the shops were closed, and there were many people just standing about on the pavement. It looked as if all the cleaners and domestic servants of the district were there, standing about in groups of five or six before each doorway, openmouthed and gaping, just as Zichy and I were doing along with countless other citizens who had streamed out to gaze around in wonder.

It was both interesting and amusing. Everyone seemed in festive mood, smiling and wearing white asters7.

Enterprising youths from the suburbs were selling the flowers, and should anyone dare to refuse to buy the friendly offers were soon suffused with unconcealed menace.