I explained the reason for my visit and handed over the proofs of what I had said. Vass accepted them and thanked me effusively, saying that he would immediately instigate a most rigorous investigation. He made a good impression on me and seemed sincere. He then accompanied me to the very last door, repeating his thanks over and over again until he finally showed me out.
After that nothing … and the swindles continued as before. When many weeks had passed, and there had been no sign of any action, and the abuses remained unchecked, I went to see the prime minister and laid everything before him.
Bethlen seemed fairly interested in what I had to tell him, but he had such confidence in Vass that I was sure he would not intervene. It was one of his greatest weaknesses that he had such confidence in all his colleagues that, even when their failings had been made all too clear, he would still keep them on and refuse to believe anything bad about them. The most unselfish of men, he could never bring himself to recognize self-interest in those who served him. He found it difficult ever to part with a colleague, and when he did it was usually only after the man concerned had found some more lucrative post and then made Bethlen believe that the change would somehow benefit the state. As a result, quite a number of his ministers found that they were in their well-paid posts for life; and this was to prove detrimental to his ministry. There can be no doubt that it was a great pity that the prime minister should have had more faith in Vass’s integrity than in the facts and figures I showed him. At that time the matter could have been dealt with discreetly and without creating a public outcry. This was to come later when the so-called Dréhr Scandal broke out. Imre Dréhr was the politically appointed Secretary of State of the ministry of welfare from 1925 to 1931. He was accused of being responsible for various ‘panamas’ in the ministry and condemned to a term of imprisonment. He committed suicide, as did Hankó-Veress, his section chief. At the height of the scandal Vass also died suddenly, and although it was given out he had had a heart attack, many people believed that he too had killed himself. Nothing harmed the Bethlen government as much as this scandal.
However, there were many pleasanter jobs to be done in the National Council for Fine Arts.
Here I will relate an amusing incident that occurred when two professorial posts fell vacant at the Academy of Fine Arts. Klebelsberg wished to appoint Károly Lyka and Vaszary, both excellent choices, for Lyka was one of our finest art historians, while Vaszary was a painter of considerable accomplishment. He submitted their names to the Regent, but Horthy refused to confirm their appointments, no matter how hard Klebelsberg pressed him. Horthy’s reluctance stemmed from the fact that he had two intimate friends, both painters. One was Karlovszky, who had painted his portrait. Karlovszky was a talented artist, if old-fashioned, who hated anything new and who had a most malicious nature. The other was Merész, who also painted in an antiquated manner but who was decidedly second-rate. This last was a frequent guest at the Regent’s and, as Horthy in his free time liked to try his hand at water-colours, Merész used to give him pointers on technique and in so doing had become Horthy’s tame expert. It was clear that these two had done their best to block Klebelsberg’s nominations, especially that of Vaszary. When the minister realized that he was not going to get Horthy’s agreement, he asked Oszkár Glatz, the rector of the Academy of Fine Arts, and myself to accompany him to an audience in the Fortress137.
The first to speak was Klebelsberg, who explained the reasons for his choice in a formal and respectful manner. I followed, speaking more freely since I had known Horthy for many years dating back to the time when we used to shoot together at Szovata when he was still aide-de-camp to Emperor Franz Joseph.
Then Glatz spoke up. He had a merry, good-humoured manner and at once roared out:
‘Come on, nominate them, do! I can tell, Vaszary is a great painter. Do listen! You can believe us. We know your Excellency is no painter, so you can’t know!’
‘Please…’ said Horthy, ‘…I do paint, you know.’
‘Well, yes, your Excellency paints, of course … but that is not at all the same thing!’
‘But I really do paint…’
‘All right! All right! Of course you do…’ replied Glatz, smiling. Then, with a deprecating wave of the hand, he said:
‘You do paint, of course! But that isn’t the point. We are now talking about real painting. Do please make these appointments. This really is quite a different matter…’
Glatz spoke in such an uninhibited and good-humoured way that Horthy started to laugh. Nothing that either his own minister or I had said had had the same effect as Glatz’s cheerful sincerity; and Horthy was won over by it. He agreed to nominate our candidates and when we left shook hands with Glatz with marked warmth. This was an instance of the modesty that Horthy used to display before his sycophants flattered him into believing he knew everything and was a great statesman, which later led to megalomania.
After my resignation in the summer of 1923 I went home to Transylvania for the first time since the revolution. It was painful for me, but there was also joy mixed with the pain. I went straight to my lovely home, Bonczhida, and found that everything was just as I had last seen it when I left in 1918138.
This visit to Transylvania had a great effect on me. It was while I was there that the thought first entered my head that I might come back to my native land for good; and there, far from the world of politics, start to write.
All this was still just a dream, and I was still far from making any definite decision. There were also all sorts of difficulties. Still, this was when the idea was born. Of course, one’s decisions are rarely taken for only one reason. Where I am concerned, action is always the fruit of long and profound mental labour and follows much weighing up of the reasons for it, both strong and weak. It gradually became clear to me that I really had almost nothing to do in Budapest. The Council of Fine Arts took up little of my time. I tried several other things, including trying once again to take up painting, but it gave me little satisfaction. I wrote a satirical comedy, Maskara, in which I chose the emerging Fascist organization as the object of my mockery. At the same time I still had hankerings for some diplomatic occupation and toyed with the idea of getting a post at some distant embassy. Bethlen hinted at the League of Nations, but this did not appeal to me after my previous experience in Geneva when the Hungarian Foreign Ministry had spent so much time in pulling me this way and that just as a puppeteer treats his marionettes. The Turkish Embassy was then vacant, and I would have gone there willingly. In 1916 and 1917 I had spent a lot of time in the capital, Istanbul, on a cultural and political mission. I got along well with the Turks and felt that my discussions with them had earned me their respect. I still feel I would probably then have done better there than anyone else; but Kánya soon put a stop to that; and it is certain that no ambassador can be properly effective without full support from home. Kánya’s ill will would have been an endless source of vexation, and so it was easy for me to draw back from pursuing that idea.
So it was that my dream of returning to Transylvania became gradually stronger and stronger until it finally became a fixed intention. Standing now on the sidelines of political events, I became aware of the insidious growth of a kind of spiritual lethargy in the Hungarian political scene; and this, although barely noticed by most people, played a big part in my ultimate decision. Superficially, there were few signs of this. The League of Nations’ loan had given a boost to the economy. Furthermore, the state loans had been followed by private investment. Dollars were pouring into the country, and quite a number of big enterprises that had access to this new source of funding got themselves seriously into debt. Although the time of the reform of our national institutions was now over, there were still some important areas where action was desperately needed: two especially.
The first was in the field of agriculture. The agrarian economy of Hungary was based on wheat production. This worked well under the Habsburg monarchy, for the only great
cereal-growing areas within the Empire’s borders were the Alföld – the Great Hungarian Plain – and the country west of the Danube; and their entire production was sold inside the hereditary lands, with markets in Vienna and even in the Carpathian provinces and Transylvania. The internal customs and excise policy set the prices at a level that made cereal growing profitable. With the new frontiers the situation was completely changed, for now the consumer provinces found themselves outside the country. Hungarian wheat was faced with competition from abroad, and international prices had dropped so low that there was no longer an economically viable market for Hungarian cereals. This was when the so-called ‘boletta’ system was introduced. This meant that the combined Hungarian Export Board purchased wheat from the farmers for more than it could be sold abroad. The ultimate deficit to the state was to be met by the treasury. It was intended to be a temporary measure, only to last for the time being. However, to bring it to an end it would have been necessary for the state to act swiftly to encourage better husbandry in some and a move to industry for others. In later years this was achieved in the countryside around Kecskemét. But at that time the ministry of agriculture was not up to the task, and everything stayed just as it was.
The second problem that remained to haunt us was that of land reform. The first plan put forward by the Bethlen government had been too modest, covering only some seventeen per cent of the land available, and failed because those who acquired the distributed lands did not have the cash to exploit them; production fell and, instead of promoting contentment, only discontent followed. Therefore, a year or so after my resignation a new and far more comprehensive plan was evolved which would have had spectacular results if it had not been allowed slowly to peter out. This plan had envisaged that the state would expropriate the land, divide it up and redistribute it, while the former owners would receive compensation in the form of state securities which, being based on the gold standard, would be negotiable abroad, which it was hoped would encourage substantial holders to reinvest in new or existing industries. It was designed to attract the American market, then the world’s richest. I do not know who invented this plan, but Bethlen and Horthy were in favour of it. Unfortunately, Bethlen, already overstretched by his myriad responsibilities, could not tackle it alone and did not have one first-rate economist among his close advisers. Valko could have done it, but he soon became foreign minister and anyway was perhaps not aggressive enough for the task, since to fight the opposition of the great landowners needed a man of ferocious energy.
So this plan also failed; and after the World Crash in 1931 no one thought about the matter again139.
In my view it was the rural Hungarian gentry who were in some measure responsible for this failure to bring about an effective reform of the land. This class had become increasingly influential during the Horthy regime, for the aristocracy had distanced themselves further and further from the government. This, of course, had been largely due to their feelings about the restoration of the monarchy. Their place had been increasingly filled by the gentry, who thus gained much influence with Horthy and his entourage.
And it must be said that the gentry as a class were far more reactionary and opposed to any form of modernization than the aristocrats had ever been. One can say many things detrimental to the Hungarian aristocracy, but it was certain that they never lost their international outlook and so should have been easy to convert to the vital necessity for industrialization.
Notes
134. And not only in his youth. His daughter still possesses a small self-portrait showing Bánffy in early middle age, which shows considerable mastery of his medium; as do the caricatures and the costume and set designs for the Budapest Opera now in the Ráday Institute. His coloured design for the decoration of the altar for King Karl’s coronation in 1916 is still displayed in the Treasury of the Matthias Church in Buda.
135. ‘Panama’ in Hungarian means ‘swindle’. It is derived from the notorious corruption that brought about the liquidation of the first Panama Canal Company in 1889.
136. Regulator or arbiter.
137. Regent Horthy had his quarters in the Royal Palace in the old fortress of Buda.
138. The great castle of Bonczhida, some twenty-nine kilometres north of Kolozsvár, was one of Transylvania’s grandest country houses. Destroyed after World War II and now utterly ruined, it lives on in Bánffy’s detailed descriptions of the castle of ‘Dénestornya’ in the first volume of his Transylvanian trilogy. After we had completed this translation of Bánffy’s memoirs, the Translyvanian Trust started a full-scale restoration; when completed the castle will be used as a centre for cultural studies, including modern methods of restoring old buildings. The work of the Transylvanian Trust has been considerably helped by the Prince of Wales, whose practical interest has been manifested by the provision of English architects and specialists. This would have given great pleasure to Miklós Bánffy himself, who would doubtless be gratified that an apartment is being prepared for the use of his family.
139. That is, until the post-war Communist government expropriated all the agricultural holdings they could lay their hands on.
Glossary of Names and Places
Ady: Hungarian poet who had been closely associated with Mihály Károlyi at the time of the October Revolution.
The Duke of Alba: Commander-in-chief of the armies of King Philip II of Spain and Regent of the Netherlands when largely Protestant Holland formed part of the Habsburg domains in the sixteenth century. Waged a bloody war in a vain attempt to eradicate Protestantism in the Netherlands.
Archduke Albrecht (1897-1956): A fervent admirer of Germany and the Nazi Party.
Count Gyula Andrássy (1860-1929): Member of the Hungarian parliament, a Legitimist leader and political opponent of István Bethlen and the Horthy administration. Mihály Károlyi’s father-in-law, he was also an art collector of some distinction.
Mihály Apaffy I: Prince of Transylvania from 1665 until 1690.
Count Albert Apponyi (1846–1933): From 1892, he led the Hungarian Party and was minister for religion and education from 1906 to 1910 and from 1917 to 1918. A leading advocate of free schooling, he attracted the animosity of several minority groups. He led the Hungarian delegation to the Paris peace talks and fought hard to achieve revision of the treaty terms. He was the leading speaker of the Legitimist Party in parliament in the post-war years.
Lord Asquith (1852–1928): The Earl of Oxford and Asquith. Liberal politician, held several ministerial posts and was prime minister from 1908 to 1916.
Gül Baba: Muslim holy man who is said to have been present when Budapest was taken by the Turks in 1541 and who afterwards planted a rose garden on the hill that bears his name to this day. His small octagonal mausoleum was used for a time as a Christian chapel but was restored to its original condition in 1961. It commands a fine view of the Danube.
Lord Arthur Balfour (1848–1930): Statesman and politician, prime minister of Great Britain and several times British delegate at international conferences. Later created an earl. His languid manner concealed an exceptionally acute brain. Piers Brendon, in his Eminent Edwardians, wrote: ‘Balfour had the sang-froid of an iceberg.’
Zoltán Baranyai (1888–1948): Historian, diplomat and jurist. In 1920 the Hungarian government had created a non-official secretariat at the League of Nations in Geneva. It was headed first by Mihály Réz (1878–1921) then by Baranyai.
Jean Louis Barthou (1852–1934): Headed the French delegation at the Genoa conference. He was prime minister of France in 1913 and minister of defence and justice between 1921 and 1922. In 1934, as foreign minister, he was active in building up France’s defences against the threat posed by the rise of the Nazi Party in Germany. In the autumn of that year he was assassinated in Marseille.
Lajos Batthyány: Hungary’s first constitutional prime minister, executed by Franz Joseph in 1849.
Tivadar Batthyány: Liberal politician, one of the founding members of the Nationa
l Council, once a friend and collaborator of Károlyi’s but who afterwards was to back away from him.
Józef Bem: Polish soldier of fortune who had become a general in the Transylvanian uprising against the Habsburgs. In December 1848 he reoccupied Kolozsvár, but in August 1849 he was forced to surrender and, with twelve other generals and several hundred others, was executed by order of Emperor Franz Joseph.
Eduard Benes (1884–1948): Nationalist Czech politician. Under Habsburg rule, he agitated for the independence of Bohemia and was later rewarded by the Western powers with ministerial posts in the newly formed Czechoslovak Republic, of which he became prime minister in 1921 and president of the republic in 1935. A lifelong enemy of Hungary.
Philippe Berthelot (1866–1934): French foreign office minister who played an influential part in the discussions on the border changes decided at the peace talks that followed the First World War.
Bessarabia: Territory annexed by Russia in 1812, seized by Romania in 1918 and restored to Russia in 1947.
Count István Bethlen: Member of an old aristocratic family that for centuries had furnished the once semi-independent province with its rulers and political leaders. He was born in 1874 and in 1945 was imprisoned by the new Communist regime. Bethlen was one of Transylvania’s most influential politicians. Like Bánffy, he had a dream of one day restoring some degree of autonomy to Transylvania but was finally frustrated by the inexorable terms of the peace treaties that followed the First World War. He died in 1947.
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