That at least would have been honest, or could have been taken as such, and might have suggested extenuating circumstances. As it was, all that happened was that the riotous members and their parties lost all respect; and the incident was not forgotten when the time came for the elections and the voters started to weigh up the Coalition’s record.

The result was soon seen: barely a hundred candidates from the three main parties of the Coalition were elected to the new Parliament. On the other hand Khuen-Hedervary’s supporters got a huge majority, and it was generally thought that now some constructive work could be begun.

Begun? Yes; but whether he would be able to achieve anything was another matter.

Obstruction, that cancer at the heart of all attempts to put through progressive measures in the Hungarian Parliament, which had paralysed successive administrations for the previous ten years and which had now become the habitual weapon used by the insubordinate left wing even against its own leadership, might well be used again to frustrate the new government. It could rise at any time, brandishing no matter what popular slogan, and it would always find support in that section of the press whose only allegiance seemed to be to the trouble-makers. There were also other sources of possible weakness, less obvious, less familiar, but these lay hidden for the present from both the government’s supporters and their political opponents.

The government announced that its first aim would be electoral reform. As this was only mentioned in outline everyone could declare their support, whether they wanted only minor changes or radical reform of the suffrage qualifications. Thus a substantial majority declared its support for the cabinet without anyone knowing which standpoint was the stronger even inside the government party. The Independence Party, as it had been for some time, was split in two. Kossuth and his followers took up a moderate stance while Justh led his splinter group so far to the left that a few months later they joined up with the socialists. It was this later move which led to that surprising situation when Tisza and Kossuth stood together on the same platform while the other wing of the government party, led by Laszlo Lukacs, made approaches to Justh and the left-wingers.

All this proved the old adage that where elections were concerned it was best to leave such important issues in as much uncertainty as possible.

It was also clear to some observers that one reason for Khuen not making any more precise declaration of his policy was that he had no wish to antagonize Tisza, for without him and his liberal party followers’ support he would be bound to fail to obtain any reform at all. Khuen’s over-riding purpose was to re-establish harmony between the King and the Parliament, the twin pillars of the Constitution, and to this end he subordinated any other consideration and welcomed to his side anyone who would serve his purpose, even if he was not otherwise an ally or supporter. And so was formed the 1910 Parliament which was the first one in many years not to be composed entirely of blinkered politicians blinded by their own unthinking allegiance either to the 1867 Compromise or to the independence principles of the Men of 1848; and which consequently was also the first Parliament to take notice of what was going on outside the Kingdom.

As the traditional party slogans had become anathema to many people a surprisingly large number of districts – thirty-one in all – voted for candidates free of any party commitments. This had never happened before. Another side effect was that many of the new members, though they belonged officially to one party or another, by no means always followed slavishly that party’s official line. This was clear for all to see when it came to dealing with the project for electoral reform. It began at a conference of conservatives held in the Vigado building where Istvan Tisza and the extreme Independent Mihaly Karolyi were shown to hold the same opinions. On the same day the former Minister-President and Protestant leader, Dezso Banffy, met at the town hall with two pillars of the conservative party, Pal Sandor and Gyula Lanczy, and also with the Christian Democrat Giesswein and the democrats Vazsonyi and Jaszi, to agree their joint programme for a radical revision of the right to vote.

There was at this time another issue which transcended traditional party lines: this was the Transylvanian Movement.

This had come into being as a result of a widespread feeling in Transylvania that its individual traditions and history, as well as its own very special spirit, had become less and less recognized, let alone respected, by the central government in Budapest, who were all too apt to think of Transylvania as just one of a string of otherwise insignificant provinces. Nothing of its riches, either of historical achievement or individual culture, nor of its real problems, was accorded any real importance in the capital. The Transylvanian spirit was slowly being drained away in the maw of Hungarian self-sufficiency and at best was ignored. So delicate, so subtle were Transylvania’s real problems that it needed much knowledge and experience to know how to handle them. When the central government did interfere it did so with brutal indifference, usually doing more harm than good.

Balint Abady had seen this with growing concern and so was one of the founders of the movement whose aim was to encourage a better understanding and a more just treatment of his beloved homeland. He first drafted a programme and then in March started canvassing his ideas and whipping up support from his fellow Transylvanians, starting with Tisza himself in Budapest. Through the lawyer Timisan he tried to interest the Romanian minorities. In all this he deluded himself that he was only doing his duty, but the reality was, of course, that this plunging into work on behalf of Transylvania and immersing himself once more in the development of the Co-operative movements, was really for him little more than a narcotic taken to relieve the pain of his sorrow and self-torment.

Tisza, though sympathetic to Balint’s ideas, still ordered his followers to hold aloof from the movement because it smacked too much of particularism. Tisza listened politely with his habitual quiet, somewhat derisive smile. He told Balint it was all very interesting … but he didn’t offer any support.

Balint, bitterly disappointed, had gone on with his self-chosen task, but without joy or hope, despite the fact that the first public meeting was not inauspicious.

The banner of the Transylvanian Movement was unfurled on March 12th at one of the principal hotels in Vasarhely.

Also present with Balint were the other original founders of the movement, Istvan Bethlen, Miklos Banffy, Zoltan Desy and Gyozo Issekutz as well as many others who attended without knowing in advance anything of what they were about to hear. Among them were many who were not native Transylvanians but who had come to represent districts in the province as a result of the peculiarly feverish atmosphere of the elections at the time of the Coalition.

Abady brought with him his detailed proposals for the movement’s programme and in his speech he concentrated on three points: the forthcoming electoral reform, Transylvania’s special commercial interests, and the many problems posed by the existence of the minorities.

The first two subjects met with little comment or opposition, but the third at once aroused all sorts of conflicting reactions. Balint wished to obtain support for a new law governing the rights of the minorities. At this point the representatives of the Szekler people started to demur, mostly those who were not of indigenous Szekler origin but who had come into Transylvanian politics from Budapest or the Great Plain, and who had been invited only because of their official positions. At once an acrimonious discussion started which threatened to get worse as Abady stood firmly by his proposition.