To obtain the return of all these diverse territories by application to a committee of the League of Nations seemed to me a hopeless task. The only solution would be if I could come to some arrangement directly with the Serbian foreign minister, Ninçic; so I went to see him.
It was at once clear that Ninçic too favoured our coming to an agreement without reference to the League of Nations. I used the same argument with him as I had with Benes, that is the great moral force of a voluntary agreement. With Ninçic there was also another reason, which was well-known at the time, and that was that Horthy was anxious to settle the question of Szeged with Belgrade, and if we two could somehow get rid of the more contentious border problem, then, as Hungarians had far more in common with the Serbs that with any of our other neighbours – both being bold brave people – there would be no reason to keep us from being good friends.
Our negotiations went smoothly enough and the next day, accompanied by Fedor Vest, I went to Ninçic’s apartment to settle the smaller details for, no matter how amicable the general agreement, it is always the minutiae which will determine its ultimate success or failure. This is especially true of an agreement concerning borders for which details of population distribution, water supplies, land-holdings and communications are vitally important. We arrived well armed with maps and statistics.
Ninçic received us, along with two secretaries, one of which I fancy was a military man in civilian clothes, and also the Serbian ambassador to Bern, who had come to Geneva expressly for this meeting.
We quickly came to a full agreement. We divided the issues into two parts. As regards the borders of Bácska and Baranya, we agreed upon an exchange of territory by which Yugoslavia obtained more territory but fewer inhabitants while we retained more people. This was because the part of Baranya to be returned to Hungary was largely inhabited by those of Hungarian origin, who would thereby come back to their mother country. This seemed to me to me more important than holding on to largely uninhabited land just because it had once been ours.
As to the corner of County Vas and Murakös, we agreed to a plebiscite. I had no doubts that this would have a happy outcome for us, for the Hungarian inhabitants of County Vas would vote unanimously to remain Hungarian; while in Murakös most of the Slovenes hated both the Serbs and the Croats so much that they would almost certainly vote for Hungary. It was also very much in their economic interest to do so.
Our discussions were most friendly, although the Serbian ambassador from Bern did his best to make them not so. It was clear that he opposed the arrangement, and at one moment he asked Ninçic to go with him into the next room, whence we could all hear a noisy altercation between them. Ninçic, however, remained firm and announced, as soon as he returned to us, that we could sign the agreement without delay. My secretaries, before leaving the Beau-Rivage, had already drawn up the necessary documents with full details of place names, quota numbers and geographical data (leaving blank spaces only for the places and dates of possible plebiscites). We had done this because, in the case of delicate or difficult negotiations, it always seems wise to be prepared with the necessary draft documents since, if there is any delay, anyone opposing the agreement can use it to disrupt the negotiations.
The Serbian was still rude and ill tempered, and I was astonished that Ninçic should have permitted someone junior to him to speak like that in the presence of strangers. I would not have tolerated it for an instant. However: other countries, other customs! Of course, I had not understood what had passed between them, but several times I heard the name of the Yugoslav prime minister mentioned and assumed that the ambassador was menacing Ninçic with him. But it was of no moment; the signing was done and we left in joyous mood.
I went off at once to find Hymans, the Belgian delegate. He was chairman of the border committee, and I felt it was important that he should first hear of the amicable solution to our border problems from the Hungarian side, since everyone always remembers the man who brings good news, and I wanted him to think of Hungary as a peacemaker. I told him all the essential details of our agreement and then asked him to postpone the next meeting of the committee until ratification had arrived from both governments.
I did not, of course, mention that there might be any doubt as to whether our government would ratify the agreement. On the contrary, I emphasized that I was sure the government would grasp the occasion with joy as showing, in this most delicate of matters, our desire for peace.
I said ‘would grasp’ in the future tense; and my reason for this was that I had already received an answer from Budapest to my first telegram outlining the agreement reached with Ninçic, and it had instructed me to sign nothing until the cabinet had approved the terms. I could not be bound by this, as it would have been impossible to reach any agreement if everything had to be subject to a two-day delay while telegrams were exchanged, especially as on one side no one would have had the chance to study the texts. There are times when responsibility simply has to be shouldered and, when something seems to be right, one must simply go ahead and sign it. Then, if the government, by now in possession of the full text, disapproves, one resigns and one’s signature automatically becomes null and void. But to wait for previous permission would be pointless. Anyway, in this situation I was sure that as soon as I spoke to Bethlen, who after all would have the last word in this matter, he would agree that we had done an excellent piece of work and would give his approval.
I had another reason to make public the intentions of the Hungarian government at that moment. I had hardly left Ninçic’s apartment before I was sure that Pasic would very probably try to make trouble. The behaviour of his ambassador to Bern, his provocative manner and passionate quarrel with his own chief of mission, seemed likely to herald another storm, which might well result in objections from the Serbian side. If this were to occur then was it not as well that my government should be seen to be wearing the peacemaker’s halo?
A few days went by, during which another and more strongly phrased telegram arrived from Budapest demanding again that I sign nothing more without prior consent. Until this was sent, they said, the agreement must be considered invalid, and I was reprimanded for putting my signature to it. I fancy this was the work of Kánya, who sat in my place at cabinet meetings and did everything he knew to belittle whatever I achieved by constantly referring to form and precedent. I passed several very disagreeable days. I had already decided that if necessary I would resign; but it would not be pleasant to have to go back to Hymans and tell him that the Hungarian government had declined to honour the agreement I had signed. However, very soon there arrived from Pasic a telegram instructing Ninçic to denounce the agreement and forbidding him to enter into any discussion on the matter whatsoever. He therefore found himself obliged to declare to the League of Nations that his own government had forsaken him; and so Serbia got the blame for frustrating the agreement.
A few days later the border committee met again.
We sat at a big round table, tightly pressed together, as the frontier specialists also had to be found places. Fedor Vest was beside me. He seemed calm and indeed took part in all our discussions in a completely calm and matter-of-fact manner. No one could have guessed how excited he really was. I was the only one who knew, and that was because, closely pressed together as we were, I could feel his shoulder trembling against mine. I feel it still today when I think about it.
When Hymans praised us and said a few soothing words about Yugoslavia, I could sense that the general feeling of the committee was becoming sympathetic towards us.
We explained out position with regard to the Murakösz and the little corner of County Vas and asked for a plebiscite there. The Serbian envoy wanted to stick strictly to the terms of the peace treaty, and the decision went against us. It was clear that word had been received from the Victorious Powers – in effect the Quai d’Orsay. We knew already that this would be so. Still, I was pleased that after the meeting many of those present came up to me
to say how much they appreciated our conciliatory and understanding attitude.
Ninçic did not attend this meeting. It was clear that he was embarrassed that his government had forsaken him and allowed him to lose face before the League of Nations. Sympathizing with what he must be feeling, I went straight round to see him. When there is trouble is the time when human relations must come first. Ninçic was overjoyed to see me. I told him at once that the collapse of our agreement in no way affected my admiration for him and that I deeply regretted only that the friendly cooperation between our two countries, which had been so clearly adumbrated in the first sentences of the agreement we had signed, could not now be realized as soon as we had hoped. I declared, however, that I still firmly believed in it and would continue to do so. At the end of our talk we agreed to keep in touch, privately and to pass on news of anything that might damage friendly relations between our two countries. If we could do nothing else we would continue to work for a real and lasting rapprochement between the Hungarian and Yugoslav peoples.
I left office a few months later; and so did Ninçic. Nothing was to come of our mutual work, and yet I remember him with sympathy and pleasure for he was a man of wide understanding and full of good will.
In mid-September we came to the election of those countries to have seats on the Council of the League of Nations. This was to be the body that took all major decisions, and its composition was therefore of the highest importance. I then heard the alarming news that both England and France were intending to insist on a place for the new Yugoslavia.
For us this would be a dreadful setback, since it would be this Council that would consider any complaints from the ethnic Hungarian minorities in the newly formed or enlarged neighbouring states. Until now such complaints had not met with much sympathy, but at least the Council had been thought of as impartial. That now one of the ‘Little Entente’ countries was to be in the seat of judgement when cases in which her own or her neighbours’ minorities were to be decided, and also have the right to make judgements where her own interests were involved, was an unbearable thought.
This caused me many a sleepless night and came at a time when I was already tormented by gnawing personal problems. From the moment I had achieved Hungary’s acceptance as a full member of the League of Nations I had been the subject of attack and vilification in our national press: principally, of course, in the Legitimist papers. I was accused of having given away any amount of Hungary’s national treasures to obtain that acceptance by agreeing to the most humiliating terms without in return imposing any conditions to preserve the nation’s honour. And what was worse, these accusations were made not merely by journalists of no standing but also by no less a figure than Apponyi himself (in an article in the Budapesti Hirlap). It was immediately clear to me that if Yugoslavia were to obtain a seat on the Council no one would ever believe that this had not been the price I had agreed to pay for our own admission as a member state. No one would ever believe that I had not had a hand in this and that it had not been part of a bargain struck by me. The slander would stick to me as long as I lived, like a convict’s brand, and I could already hear my enemies’ shouts of triumph as they roared out calls of ‘Traitor!’ I was in terrible anguish of mind.
My first move was to call on Edward Wood, the English delegate. I explained to him that it was because of this minority problem that we had to protest against a Council seat for Yugoslavia. He said that he understood our point of view but did not otherwise unbend. I then turned to Hanotaux. He seemed more appreciative but did not yield either, even after we had discussed the matter at length. He stated that it had already been decided. Finding myself in a hopeless situation, I then suggested that, if this could not be changed, and the ‘Little Entente’ was thereby given a permanent advocate in the Council, perhaps France as the traditional defender of the people’s rights would accept the role of champion of the minorities and use her powerful voice in defence of the justice of their cause. Hanotaux accepted this most solemnly. Indeed he was a great and noble-minded man. I believe that he only did this for me because he had grown fond of me, and I always think of him with gratitude.
This was a substantial achievement, and I was sure that Hanotaux would keep his word. It also meant that when I became ambassador in Paris I would always be able to count on his support and protection.
Nevertheless, I still considered this only as a second-best arrangement that had been compulsorily imposed upon us. It would still be better if somehow we could bring about the failure of the plan to give a seat to Yugoslavia; and so, although I did not have much hope, this is what I started to work towards.
First I considered what forces I had to contend with, and decided at once that there were three groups where I might muster support. First came the Baltic States, who always stood as one man. With them I had always had good relations. Because of our common Finno-Ugric origins we had always been in sympathy with them, and so I won them over easily. The Finns and Estonians had long looked on the Hungarians as poor relations do on their more eminent cousins. They were proud of the relationship. This meant three votes for us, for Finland brought with her Estonia and Latvia. It was possible that Lithuania would also join us as, since the decision about Vilna, they felt a great resentment against the Great Powers. And so it happened. Now we were four.
The next, and much stronger group, was formed of the South Americans. At that time their leader was Rivas-Vicunna, one of the leading delegates from Chile. He was a dignified man with a great love of truth. I do not now recall how it was that we came to be on terms of confidential friendship. It may well have been that I found him sympathetic at our first meeting, or maybe I found just the words to arouse his sympathy. Perhaps he had first aroused my interest because I had once read that the Chileans still represented the purest Castillian bloodlines since they had never intermarried with the Moorish, Indian or black races. This may all be later rationalization, but whatever it was it is certain that he stood by us most steadfastly. He promised to rally to our side all the other South American countries. He started by inviting me to a dinner where I met all the South American delegates, and he saw that I had the opportunity to talk to each of them individually. As a result, I was able to tell them all sorts of facts about Hungary of which they previously had had no idea. They heard me with great interest, and, since my good friend Rivas-Vicunna had previously spoken well of me to all of them, I did not find it hard to win them to my way of thinking. It was in our favour that they started without any preconceived partisan feelings and indeed found much of the mutual distrust and hatred of the European countries for one another senseless and absurd. This meant that we now had some fifteen or sixteen votes: a tidy number but still not enough.
As there were fifty-two countries represented, I would need twenty-seven votes to be sure of winning.
The third group comprised the Asiatic countries. Their leader was Japan, and so I started to talk to members of the Japanese delegation.
I already knew the Japanese ambassador to Vienna; and I had also read a great deal about Japanese culture. I had always been fascinated by the Far East, and my friend Vilmos Pröhle had taught me a great deal about the Japanese. Ever since the Russo-Japanese War128 I had learned more from an assiduous reading of the Illustrated London News, which for decades had published much about Japan and the character of its people. I was familiar with their unspoken patriotism, and also with the Bushido traditions that ruled their daily lives, from how they cut their nails to their acceptance of hara-kiri, the ritual suicide to preserve honour. Perhaps also I have in me, by some process of Mendelian inherited characteristic, an oriental sympathy that allows me more understanding of the Japanese temperament than is the lot of those whose ancestors are of wholly European origin.
The members of the Japanese delegation took all their meals in the dining room of the Beau-Rivage. They ate their lunch at a single long table, while I sat at a small table nearby. It was interesting to watch them. They ate
in silence with a mechanical air, almost as if they were still asleep, lazily, and seemingly indifferent to their colleagues’ presence. Occasionally they would all suddenly liven up, as if struck by lightning; and this was when a Chinese delegate entered the room. Then their eyes all focussed on him, as they carefully looked to see with whom the Chinaman had come in, with whom he spoke: indeed seemingly taking note of everything about him. This only lasted for seconds before the masks of apparent indifference fell once more into place, and anyone would imagine that they had no interest at all in what went on around them. There was something frightening in this latent invisible alertness.
I became on reasonably good terms with them from our first encounter. I soon discovered that they were interested in my being Hungarian, for they had a keen feeling that Hungarians were in some way related to them. I have no idea if there may be any historical justification for this, although I believe that their country had been invaded in antiquity by Hiung Nuk, and by this conquest the eastern Huns had become the ancestors of the Daimios, the ancient Japanese noble caste. This has been denied by certain Indo-Germanic scholars who claim that the Japanese ruling families are descended from Malaysian pirates; but, whatever the truth may be, I can only say that, while in my country this notion of having Far Eastern cousins exists only in the dream-like theories of some ‘turanist’ scholars129, it is still widely believed in Japan. This was an asset when I went to see the Japanese delegate.
I started by giving him a resumé of Hungary’s recent past. I explained what an injustice it was to brand us as war criminals when there was proof enough that Tisza, then prime minister of Hungary, had strongly protested at Austria’s decision to send such an impossible ultimatum to Serbia and had only remained in his post by the order of the old ruler130. With exemplary patience he had silently suffered public blame for involving us in a war he himself had worked so hard to prevent. Although he had been no warmonger, it was because people believed the opposite that he had been murdered. Only later, when the records in Vienna had been made public, did the world get to know that Tisza had been forced to remain at his post since he was only too aware that, if he had then made his real views known, the morale of the country would have been shattered, and the ultimate catastrophe would have come all the sooner. He had seen clearly that the loss of the war would inevitably bring with it the dismemberment of his country – and this is indeed what happened. By keeping the secret, he became a martyr to his oath of allegiance and to his sense of duty131.
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