The Grand Delusion: Paradsasvar & the Contradictions of Mihaly Karolyi

The teaching of history often consists of little more than forcing students to memorize a seemingly endless litany of inane facts and dates. The connections and contexts which are so critical to historical understanding often get lost in a maze of minutia. This is unfortunate, because history is really about trying to understand human actions that have occurred in the past. Since these actions were committed by people, they are full of complexities and contradictions. Thus, it is hardly surprising, that history is an inexact science. It is very difficult to predict the future from what has happened in the past, precisely because human actions are quite unpredictable, even as they are influenced by the past. The small unassuming village of Paradsasvar tucked into the Matra Mountains of northern Hungary holds a structure and a life story that illustrates the complexities of one man who shaped history in the form of his own contradictory character.

Károlyi-kastély – splendor amid the dark woods of the Matras

Privilege, Splendor and Failure – The Karolyi Conundrum
Arriving in Paradsasvar visitors are almost immediately drawn to the Karolyi-kastely. This otherworldly creation of the famed architect Miklos Ybl is a contradiction in and of itself. For all intents and purposes the kastely is an imaginative concoction of wickedly steep roofs, including a turret not for defense, but decoration. Covered by a faded red coat of color trimmed in vibrant yellow, it is an architectural fiesta, nothing less than a celebration of opulence and eclecticism. The contradiction comes from the castle’s setting, surrounded by thick, dark forest. This confection of neoclassicism is the direct opposite of its cloistered natural setting.

Like the Kastely, its former owner is a contradiction as well. The castle was one of the many homes belonging to Mihaly Karolyi, one of the most controversial figures in Hungarian history. He was born at nearby Fot, into the immense wealth and prestige of the noble Karolyi family. The family was part of a stable of rich landowning aristocrats in the pre-World War I Kingdom of Hungary. These elites ran the country, enjoying vast political prestige and power. They were the crème de la crème of a rigid class system. Karolyi grew up in this world of wealth and privilege. He was something of a wastrel in his youth, squandering both opportunity and money in equal measure.

A Nightmare of Contradictions – Karolyi & the Common Man
In 1910 Karolyi was elected to parliament as a member of the opposition. Though opposed to many of the ruling government’s traditional policies, Karolyi like almost everyone else at the time supported Hungary’s entry into the First World War. As the war dragged on, Karolyi became extremely critical of the government in power. He was seen as something of a rebel. For instance, he supported the right to vote for war veterans and women. He also pushed for land reform. By today’s standards these views seem perfectly normal. Judging by those of early 20^th century Hungary, he was an extreme radical, especially considering his aristocratic lineage.

And therein lay the contradiction, this man who had benefited from aristocratic birthright, who was a scion of one of Europe’s richest families, was advocating policies diametrically opposed to the nobility’s interests. He wanted to free the peasantry from the yoke of virtual serfdom, giving them land and rights they had never experienced before. Here was Mihaly Karolyi who lived in the most opulent circumstances imaginable fighting for the common man. Was his benevolence born of guilt? Was Karolyi trying to make up for his physical defects? After all, he spoke with a lisp and had been something of an outcast in aristocratic circles. Perhaps he was trying to get back at his own class. Was he a naive idealist who lacked the vision to see that his beliefs might actually bring about the Kingdom of Hungary’s disintegration? Was he a reckless wastrel who only knew how to squander power? Was he a visionary or a hypocrite? It is hard to say, but he certainly was a contradiction.

Mihaly Károlyi – this photo was taken after his exile

Chaos & Dissolution – Karolyi at the Helm
The cliché that character is destiny certainly holds true in Karolyi’s case. His character informed his short, unhappy term at the helm of a Hungary thrown into chaos by loss of the war. He was given the reins of power at the single worst possible moment. Just days after the war ended, with the Kingdom crumbling, Karolyi took charge of the government. He expressed the same idealistic beliefs of the victorious allies, self-determination and a peace free of reparations. He trusted the British and French to believe that he, Mihaly Karolyi could not only right the wrongs of the past, but also lead Hungary toward the bright uplands of liberal democracy. He would extend the franchise beyond the meager six percent of the male population that were allowed to vote. He would give land to the peasants. He even set a stirring example by dividing his own estates up for the peasants.

Meanwhile, the Allies pretty much ignored Karolyi. He had decided to disband the Hungarian Army, a fatal mistake. The Romanians, Czechs and Serbs soon invaded Hungary. Karolyi’s government was a disaster. In power for only a matter of months, he ended up turning the nation over to the communists which was an even greater disaster. The upshot was chaos and dissolution. Hungary eventually was forced to sign the Treaty of Trianon, losing two-thirds of its land and population. Nothing was ever the same again. Karolyi had been at the helm when the chaos was at its worst and he suffered much of the blame.

Karolyi-kastely – A fantasy and a reality

The Grand Delusion
It is hard not to look at the Karolyi-kastely, with its fantasy like appearance and wonder how in the world a man who once lived in this palatial mansion, surrounded by natural beauty and material bounty could have ever involved himself in such misguided radicalism. Perhaps the castle offers a clue. It looks like a fantasy and contradicts its natural surroundings. This is much like Karolyi himself, who while surrounded by the glitter of wealth and aristocratic splendor fomented the cause of radical socialism. Karolyi was enchanted by what turned out to be nothing more than a grand delusion. His life, his politics and Karolyi-kastely are filled with contradiction and complexity, reflective of the competing impulses that ruled and wrecked his life.

Impossible Choices – The Assassination of Count Istvan Tisza

One of the stranger occurrences or shall we say non-occurrences during the highly traumatic first phase of the 20^th century (1900 – 1956) in Hungary was – with one notable exception – the lack of assassinations or assassination attempts against the leadership. Whether it was an empire, republic or people’s republic (take your pick), Hungary was beset by the forces of political reaction and counter reaction on numerous occasions. The country went from Red to White Terror literally overnight during the summer of 1919. In late 1944 – early 1945, it swung from fascism to communism in a matter of months. It suffered through two World Wars, the second one of which destroyed much of Budapest as well as 60% of the national economy. The capital was occupied multiple times by three distinctly different foreign armies (Romanian Army in 1919, German Army in 1944, Soviet Army in 1945 and again in 1956) in a period of less than forty years. For twenty-five years the republic was led by a regency replacing an abolished monarchy. This seemingly endless succession of upheavels makes it all the more remarkable that only one Hungarian leader lost their life to an assassination during this time. This man, Istvan Tisza, was the dominant Hungarian politician of the era, prior to and during the First World War. His role also made him a marked man, not once, not twice, but four times. The final blow fell just as the war was drawing to a close.

Count Istvan Tisza – giant of Hungarian politics in the years leading up to and during World War I (Artist: Gyula Benczur)

Exiles, Executions and Suicides
Just because Tisza was a marked man, does not mean all the other leaders during this time were safe. After all, the four most controversial men to lead Hungary during the 20^th century all ended up as exiles. Mihaly Karolyi lived out the latter part of his life in France. Bela Kun fled to the Soviet Union, where he was unable to escape the vicissitudes of Stalin’s Great Terror in the 1930’s.  He got a bullet in the back of his skull as deadly repayment for his dedication and zeal to the communist cause. Miklos Horthy was kidnapped by the Nazi’s for attempting to negotiate a Hungarian surrender with the Allies. He then ended up in the hands of the Americans, who refused to hand him over to the Soviets. Horthy spent his final years in Estoril, Portugal of all places, his expenses and care financed by Jewish friends who were grateful that he had helped save at least some of the Jews (this is ironic to say the least). Matyas Rakosi, a horrible man who even looked the part, was removed by the Soviets due to the effect his harsh dictatorship had on fomenting the 1956 Hungarian Revolution. He sat out the rest of the Cold War in the Soviet Union, cooling his heels until his death in 1971.

Sadly a couple of men who have been looked kindly upon by some historians, Pal Teleki and Imre Nagy died tragically. In Teleki’s case he shot himself in protest at the government’s decision to allow German troops to use Hungary as a transit corridor for the invasion of Yugoslavia in 1941. As for Nagy, he was executed ostensibly for treason, this happened at the hands of his former comrades. Some might say these men were also committing treason, this time against Nagy and the will of the Hungarian people. Teleki and Nagy may have stood on principle, but were felled by tyranny.

Tyranny did not always win. Take the case of the fascist Ferenc Szalasi, who led the Nazified Arrow Cross movement. His short lived policies took the lives of thousands of Jews. He did not escape fate though. Following the war he was brought back to Hungary, convicted for war crimes and hanged. He was just another of the many different leaders of Hungary that were removed from power in a variety of manners. The tally for this first phase of the 20^th century includes a suicide, three executions, multiple exiles and what we now turn to, an assassination.

One Attempt After Another
And what of the assassination of Tisza? As is so often the case in Hungarian history, the assassination does not follow a simple path, the story is clouded with complexities. To begin with, Tisza survived no less than three attempts on his life. The first actually occurred before the war and happened in parliament no less. Tisza had a long history of keeping the socialists and national minorities in check. Politicians who represented these interests were often given to loud protests in parliament against Tisza and his colleagues. Tisza’s response was to have the police remove the obstructionists from parliament.

One such instance led to the first assassination attempt against him. On June 4, 1912, the opposition turned furious over Tisza’s support for an Army Bill. The bill in question would increase Hungarian influence in the army, while at the same time increasing the number of men drafted for service. In other words, the workers and national minorities were to provide the soldiery, while the upper crust of Hungarian society provided the leadership. The socialists disrupted parliament on this day with a variety of noisemaking devices. Tisza called in the police who removed the offenders. Soon after, the Army Bill was passed.

When parliament was convened just three days later, the opposition attempted to cause another disturbance in parliament. Tisza called the police once again to usher them away. One legislator, Gyula Kovacs, managed to make his way into the upper gallery of the chamber. Suddenly he shouted, “There is still a member of the opposition in this house” and fired three shots at Tisza. Kovacs then turned the gun on himself, shooting himself in the head. Astonishingly, his attempts against both Tisza and himself were unsuccessful. Forebodingly, the wounded and bleeding Kovacs is said to have muttered, “this is not the last shots that will be fired here.” A surreal scene followed with the wounded Kovacs removed and Tisza continuing the parliamentary proceedings. The Army Bill was passed. Later Tisza was insulted by his political foe Mihaly Karolyi for passing this bill. This challenge to Tisza’s honor deserved a response. The two fought a dual. In those days, the Hungarian nobility dueled not with pistol, but with fencing sabers. Fortunately, for Karolyi, the duel was stopped after Tisza inflicted the first slash on him.

Just a little over two years later, the heir to the Habsburg throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated by a Bosnian Serb nationalist in Sarajevo. This was the spark that would ignite the initial catastrophe of the 20^th century, World War I. The Austrian leadership wanted war from the very beginning. The Hungarians were in a much trickier position. War threatened Hungary’s position as a veritable equal in the Dual Monarchy. Tisza helped forestall the initial impulse of the Austrians to declare war. He insisted that the leadership of the Serbian state be given an opportunity to answer the charges for their role in the assassination. The terms given to the Serbians were so stringent though, that there was no way they could meet all the requirements and still maintain a modicum of national self-respect. Nonetheless, the Serbians did meet most of these. Unfortunately, for Tisza and Hungary no amount of Serbian contrition was going to stop the Austrian leadership from going to war, especially when support for the Austrians was assured by Germany.

The best that Tisza could negotiate for Hungary was an agreement that when Serbia was defeated, it would not be annexed into the empire. If it had been, the tenuous power that the Hungarians enjoyed in the Dual Monarchy would have been upset by an increase in the Slav population. Such a Slav presence would have to be accommodated at the expense of Hungary. In retrospect, the Hungarian role in the Dual Monarchy was a classic no win situation. Salvaging it left Tisza and his nation with impossible choices. If Serbia had been defeated and the war won, the Hungarians would probably have lost out to Slav incorporation within the empire and if the war was lost, everything would crumble. Why did Tisza not resign in protest? Because he would have been immediately replaced with another Hungarian leader who supported Austrian policy.  In addition, a failure to support the Austrians would have displayed a near fatal fissure in the Dual Monarchy. Thus, Tisza supported the war and remained Prime Minister until 1917.

His life, like the Dual Monarchy was imperiled by the war. More assassination attempts were forthcoming. One soldier took a shot at Tisza while he was returning from a visit to the front. Another attempt occurred on October 16 when a member of an anti-military group shot at Tisza as he was leaving parliament. This was the same day that Tisza gave a famous speech in Parliament where he admitted “We have lost the war.” This was the final blow not only for Hungary, but also Tisza. All of his life’s work to keep Hungary’s privileged position in the Dual Monarchy was now lost.  Even after his ouster as the nation’s leader, Tisza had remained one of the preeminent politicians in Hungary. What was to become of the country, what was to become of Tisza?

Istvan Tisza with his wife

The Final Act
October 31, 1918 was a bright, sunny day in Budapest. The Hungarians do not celebrate Halloween, not that anyone at the time would have wanted to. The country was in chaos, hundreds of thousands of men had died on the eastern and southern fronts in horribly mismanaged campaigns. The national minorities were in revolt. New nations were being created and old ones resized. This would eventually lead to Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia and an enlarged Romania.  Even in Hungary, radical Socialism was threatening to turn into Bolshevism. Surviving soldiers were arriving back in the capital. They were looking for scapegoats. There was none better than Tisza.

Tisza knew his life was in peril. He carried a pistol at all times. He was advised to leave the country, but said, “I wish to die upright, the way I have lived.” On this day, he was at his villa, the Roheim palace, on the edge of the Varosliget, Budapest’s city park. He was visiting with his wife and niece, the Countess Almassy, in the early evening when three armed soldiers gained entry to the villa. It is still unclear to this day, the details of what exactly transpired. Newspaper reports state that the soldiers confronted Tisza in a hallway. He had his revolver in hand. One of the soldiers asked him to lay it down. He would not. The ladies were asked to leave, but they refused. One soldier addressed Tisza with the accusation that “it is your fault that millions have perished. You brought about this war.” Tisza denied this. The soldiers again asked the ladies to leave, again they refused. The three soldiers lowered their rifles and pointed them at Tisza. A volley of bullets suddenly spewed forth. Tisza was mortally wounded. He lay dying at the feet of his wife and niece. His last words were reportedly, “I am dying. It has to be.”

As mentioned above the Hungarians do not celebrate Halloween, but first day of November is traditionally known as the day of the dead. This is when the dead are remembered, flowers placed on graves and cemeteries packed with those paying their respects. On November 1,1919, Count Istvan Tisza the giant of Hungarian politics was buried earlier than usual. As Miklos Banffy soberly relates in his memoirs, “Tisza’s funeral was to be at four o’clock on the following day. At half past three I set off but was met by a friend coming away. He told me the funeral was over and that it had been held before the time announced as it had been feared the mob might have tried to prevent the last respects from being paid because there were those who had threatened to desecrate the corpse of a man who had been so hated.” Finding peace seemed as elusive in death for Tisza as it was in the last years of his life.

This ended the first and only assassination of a leading Hungarian politician during the tumultuous first phase of the twentieth century. The murder of Count Istvan Tisza can be seen as the final casualty of Hungary’s First World War. He represented the establishment, the old guard, a way of life that was quickly becoming anachronistic. Like the hundreds of thousands of men before him, he died in the trenches. Not the military ones, but instead the political trenches. Yet in many ways he also represents the first casualty in a new war, the war between radical socialism and reactionary conservatism. This was the war that would change Hungary forever and so violently influence the next forty years of its existence.

The Real Terror In Transylvania – Bela Lugosi On The Eastern Front

Bela Lugosi, was one of the first and most famous of the many men who played Dracula on the big screen, is remembered by film buffs for the many roles he played in dozens of horror films. Lugosi parlayed the fame he gained from his Dracula role into a long career in Hollywood. He eventually fell into obscurity and was reduced to roles in some of the worst B-movies ever made. Nonetheless, Lugosi is still beloved by many for his entrancing portrayal of the mysterious, blood lusting vampire from the primeval land of Transylvania. Lugosi played the role so well, that for the rest of his career he was typecast as Count Dracula. Because of this, it is difficult to separate Lugosi the man, from Lugosi the actor. When the man is separated from the screen it usually shows him in a much less flattering light, focusing on his later years, when drug addiction left him destitute, alone and a mere shell of his former self (the film Ed Wood does a remarkable job characterizing this).

There is little interest about Lugosi’s early years, other than the fact that he was Hungarian and acted in numerous roles on both stage and screen. Unbeknownst to many, Lugosi also spent several of his formative years fighting on the front lines during World War I. His wartime experience and the conflict’s chaotic aftermath in Hungary would lead him down a path that would shape his career for years to come. Casting a light on what happened to Lugosi during this time, illuminates an otherwise little known aspect of this iconic screen legend’s life.

Bela Lugosi in his Austro-Hungarian military uniform

Beginning around the turn of the twentieth century, Lugosi  had slowly worked his way up from bit parts in provincial theatrical plays to roles at the National Theater in Budapest. By 1914, Lugosi had made somewhat of a name for himself in artistic circles. The sudden outbreak of World War I that summer did not seem likely to change this. Actors were exempted from military service and Lugosi did not have a martial background. Yet for reasons that are still unclear he volunteered for the Austro-Hungarian army almost immediately. Perhaps he was seeking adventure or felt the emotional urge of patriotism that gripped so many other men at that time. He was assigned to the 43rd Royal Hungarian Infantry, first serving as an infantry lieutenant. The unit was sent to the Eastern Front where they fought in Galicia against Russian forces. Lugosi showed enough ability to gain entry into the ski patrol. His unit soon found themselves engaged in the brutal winter Carpathian campaigns. These began in earnest during late January of 1915. To give just one example of the danger and death that pervaded these battles, the Austro-Hungarians lost an astonishing two-thirds of a 100,000 man army in less than three weeks. Though largely forgotten, the fighting which occurred high up in the snowy Carpathians is believed by some historians to have been the deadliest of the entire war on any front. Casualties upwards of 50% became the norm.

In some ways, the bombs and bullets of the Russians were the least of a soldier’s worries. The natural elements were if anything deadlier. Two companies, including staff and officers, froze to death after temperatures plunged to twenty below zero. Lugosi’s role in the ski patrol may have helped save his life, since he may have been better equipped with winter gear than the average infantryman. We do not have any documentation on Lugosi’s feelings about this winter warfare, but we do have rare extracts from a Romanian officer, Octavian C. Taslauuanu, who fought in the Carpathians. A short extract is instructive as to the conditions faced by the soldiers. “The fighting in the Carpathians, because of the difficulties of the ground and the severity of the season, demanded the greatest effort and suffering of which our army was ever capable. Those who have not taken part in it can have no idea of what a human being is capable…Everything was wrapped in a mantle of snow, whose virginal whiteness soothed us and made our thoughts turn calmly to death, which we longed for as never before. The men dug coffin-shaped trenches, so that when in the evening I went to inspect them lying in these ditches covered with juniper, they looked to me as if they had been buried alive…The men, despite the cold, lost no time in undressing to change their linen. I then saw human bodies which were nothing, but one great sore from the neck to the waist. They were absolutely eaten up with lice.”

Lugosi did not escape the fighting unscathed. He suffered both mentally and physically.  One of the few times he spoke about the war took place in an interview years later as he recalled, “There was a moment I could never forget. We were protecting a forest from the Russians. All of us were cowering beneath huge trees, each man beneath a tree. A young officer incautious, went a little way out of cover and a bullet struck his breast. I forgot the Russians were firing from their line with machine guns. Not a selfless man…I ran to him and gave him first aid. I came back to my tree and found out that it had been blown to the heavens in heavy crushing pieces. I became hysterical. I wept there on the forest floor, like a child…not from fear, not even from relief…from gratitude at how God had paid me back for having that good heart.”

Lugosi was wounded twice, the first time in fighting near Rohatin, Galicia (Rohatyn, Ukraine today), the second time occurred in the Carpathians. These wounds brought him a decoration for bravery, but they also put him out of commission. Shortly after being released from the hospital in early 1916 Lugosi was discharged after 18 months of service. One biographer states that the discharge was given for “mental instability” – an irony if ever there was one. Whatever wounds Lugosi had sustained could not keep him away from the theater. On April, 10 1916, less than twenty months after his last performance in Budapest he was back on stage at the National Theater. As the war dragged on over the next two and a half years, Lugosi continued to act in a variety of roles on stage and also getting his first start in film. It was as though he had never went to the trenches. Maybe he was able to forget about the war, but its aftereffects in Hungary were about to influence the rest of his life.

The Austro-Hungarian Empire was dissolved in November of 1918. Hungary became a republic, albeit one threatened by the excesses of radicalism and revolt. For the first time in his life, Lugosi became involved in politics. He gained a role as one of the leaders of the newly created theaters union in December 1918. He espoused decidedly left wing views, campaigning to eradicate a seniority system that had been biased towards the Budapest theatrical old guard. He advocated ending the power of the theater managers who encouraged profit over art. These views put him in line with the short lived Hungarian Democratic Republic led by Mihaly Karolyi. After its abrupt implosion, he supported the Hungarian Soviet Republic of Bela Kun. A reign of red terror swept the country. Left wingers such as Lugosi spoke out with impunity. Art was now going to be ascendant over money. Lugosi’s ambitious rhetoric came back to haunt him when Kun’s government was ousted from power after a mere four months. In 1919, a conservative right wing government under regent Miklos Horthy took power. A backlash quickly ensued. Hungary see sawed from the Red to a White Terror which killed, tortured and imprisoned thousands of left wing sympathizers, including many involved with the theater. Lugosi could have been next.

Exile being the better part valor in his case, Lugosi fled Hungary with his wife, both hidden in a load of hay. He headed to Vienna and then onwards to Berlin. His wife came from a wealthy banking family. The wandering life of a theatrical nomad was not for her.  She left Lugosi for good. Meanwhile, he found work in the growing German film industry. He decided to immigrate to the United States in 1921 in order to find better career opportunities. Lugosi never returned to Hungary.

The rest as they say is history. Lugosi went on to the height of fame with Dracula in 1931, unfortunately it was all pretty much downhill from there. He fell into squalor due to indebtedness, poor career decisions and substance abuse. Strangely for a man who played Dracula, only after his death did he rise again to the heights of his former fame. He is now remembered for his iconic star turn as one of the first and most famous of the horror genre’s characters. What to make of Lugosi’s service in the First World War? He had survived due to luck or skill, perhaps both. It was his first brush with mortality. Like many veterans he rarely spoke of what he had seen at the front. For a man who spent a large part of his life playing roles that dealt with the darker side of humanity, it is strange that Lugosi had hardly anything to say about his wartime experiences with danger and death. Then again, all those plays and films were just fiction, a way to escape life. Whereas war was a horrible reality, one that left millions of men like Lugosi scarred. It transformed their lives in ways that we are only beginning to understand.