The Pendulum Swings
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Ilona Karolyi Szechenyi The Pendulum Swings American Hungarian Literary Guild Astor, Florida 1980 Library of Congress Catalog Number: 80-67340 Printed by Catholic Publishing Company 1739 Mahoning Avenue. Youngstown. Ohio 44509, U.S.A. Introducing the author This book was not written by a professional writer, and does not claim literary qualities as such. Its author is a painter, who expresses herself in lines and colors, without the need of words. Born in Hungary in 1898, Countess Ilona Karolyi Sz^chenyi studied art since her seventh birthday. First at home with private tutors, then at the Royal Academy in Budapest, and the Academy of Creative Arts in Munich, Germany. Since leaving Hungary under duress in 1945, she traveled exten sively, exhibiting paintings in London, the United States of America, Brazil, Argentina, Uganda, Switzerland, Austria and Germany. Countess Kdrolyi Szichenyi now lives in England where she teaches painting. Her most famous portraits include those of Albert Einstein, Prime-minister Count Istvdn Tisza, Archduke Albrecht and Arch duchess AnruL, Countess Claudia Rhidey (Queen Mary's grand mother), the famous surgeon Prof Lajos Addm, Bishop Miklds Sze- chenyi. Prince and Princess Lichtenstein, the famous Swiss writer Albert Steffen, Atahualpa Hupanki, the well known Argentine guitar player. Lord Rothermere, owner of the Daily Mail, Rudolph Steiner, author Elynor Glynn, the famous architect of “Brazilia", P. Niemeyer, etc., etc. Besides the portraits, her landscapes, still lifes and horse pic tures prove the great versatility of her talent, sustained by the in destructible resources of her spirit that upheld her in spite of mis fortune, grief loss of home and homeland. One of the known art critics of South America, Mr. F. Kez wrote about her works in 1951: “ The style of her portraits are characterized by an impressive ease and grace, which make us recognize behind the strict interpre tation of the subject's character the suggestive personality of the artist. Her technique bears the tender and delicate marks of the Munich school, but now and again it seems to melt into lighter tonalities, reminding one of the touch of the French masters." “Her still lifes and landscapes are fresh, colorful, and bold. The artist is impellt’d to reflect nature, hut her inner feelings and exper iences are automatically added to it, and this is exactly what makes her great..." However, it is not her excellence as a painter that made the publisher decide to print this book. The reason goes way beyond that. This book represents history, in a unique way. N ot from the viewpoint of the historian, the diplomat, the statesman, the con queror or the simple onlooker, but from that of the victim. I t repre sents the agonies and the struggles for survival of the innocent in a havoc of evil confusion. The tears of all mothers who have ever pray ed for the lives of their children midst an apocalypse. The fears of all wives for the safe return of their husbands who have fallen into the hands of cruel enemies. The choking grief of those uprooted from their beloved homeland by the forces of evil, and thrown aimlessly into an indifferent, foreign world But it represents also the stamina hidden deep in the human soul that makes the believers build new lives on barren rocks, and enrich mankind with values salvaged from the ruins of the past and transplanted into the consciousness of the future. Indeed, TH E PE N D UL UM S WINGS. Some fall off at the extremities, due to gravity and inertia. Others swing back, holding on through sheer courage to the faith in good which overcomes evil. This book is a colorful memorial to those who had the fortitude to make it. Albert VVass Author's Forward Urged and encouraged by friends and newspaper people to put down my recollections on paper, I protested — “ in this century al most everyone's life is interesting and has a touch of drama!" Nevertheless, impulsively — one sunny afternoon I started to write. Language difficulties rocketed sky high immediately, words seemed to jump into my awareness in all other languages except in English. But the real headache was how to begin — where to start? Memoirs — usually — start with dates, birthplaces, details which many a reader will skip, being generally boring. So I decided against that method of approach and will, therefore, give you just a few relevant details now. I was born in my grandparents' home in 1898 and lived with my parents in Hungary for25 years. I married Victor Kdrolyi in 1923 and had 3 children — Lajos (Louis), Sophie-Christine (Ditto) and Anthony. A fter the second world war the Russian troops invaded our country. We left in 1945 and shared the tragic fate of thousands of emigrants in poverty, hunger and frustration. M y poor brave husband was taken prisoner in Austria by the American Occupational Army and sent back to the communist Hun garian Government under totally false accusations in 1945. He was sentenced to 3 ‘/2 years in prison and when he had served his sentence and was released, miraculously organised his escape through the Hungarian border to Austria and joined us in May 1949. Our daughter had just married Major Bill Edwards and followed him to Uganda. Lajos, very lonely and young, married Ilona Tellir and emigrated to Brazil with two babies. 11 was a personal fate to relative freedom. We joined them there, my husband Victor and our youngest son Anthony in 1950. Without means it was not easy to live in Brazil and to adapt ourselves to that vast country, to the climate, to the people. M y job was by far the easiest being a professional painter; soon the high prices for portraits enabled me to visit my Mother and brothers in the States. During my long life I painted portraits in Hungary, Austria, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, France, Italy, Spain, England, Africa, Brazil, Argentina, and the United States. I met thousands of people, famous personalities and obscure ones, some good, some bad, but they were all God's children. I acknowledge with gratitude the help and encouragement I have received not only from my family but also from my friends Muriel Pickard, Marian Goddard and John Brewer, who read the book before publication and made valuable suggestions. I also wish to thank warmly Mrs. Marene Morgan for so ef ficiently and speedily carrying out the difficult task of the typing and correcting, without whose help this book may never have been published. Now I am 81 years old What I have written is the absolute truth in every detail and so I hope it might interest you. I dedicate this book to all who have been through similar trials and tribulations. Chapter I The counts Szechenyi of Sarvar Fels6vid6k were one of the ancient lines of Hungarian nobility. Many a valiant soldier, great diplomat, statesman and noble prelate had written their names in Magyar history. The glory and welfare of their country was ever placed above personal interest. A race of honest, noblehearted, hos pitable people, they seemed to have lived up to their family motto, “ Si Deus pro nobis, quis contra nos” , “ if God is with us, who is against us” , and to the white dove of peace holding a green branch in the main centre of the family coat of arms. One of my ancestors was St. Elizabeth, 1207-1231, born of the House of Arpad, married to Ludwig Landgraf of Thiiringen. Her father was King Endre II of Hungary, great-grandfather (4th gen eration) of Isabelle of France, wife of Edward II, 1284-1327, of Caernarvon — Queen Mary Stuart’s ancestor. Nine generations ago Ferencz Rakoczy, the great-grandson of Sigismond Rakoczy, King of Transylvania, 1544-1608, and his wife Ilona Zrinyi, was a descendant via the House of Aragon of William the Conqueror. On my mother’s side I am a descendant, according to the Eng lish and Scottish genealogist, of Alpin, King of Kintyre, father of Kenneth McAlpin, King of Scots who died in 859. I am grateful to Fate to have such ancestors. My father was born in Somogy, in the south-eastern corner of Hungary, one of the six sons of count Ferenc Szechenyi. He was 27 years old when he married Countess Christa Wenckheim, in 1872. I was born in 1898, in the year our poor lovely Queen Elizabeth, Empress of the Austro-Hungarian empire, was murdered in Geneva on the lake shore. My parents spent each summer abroad in Belgium, Italy, Aus tria and in the northern mountains of Hungary. From these places I have a few recollections, blurred bubbles swimming on grey sea, but the atmosphere, colour and smell, the emotions of those times live in my memory like vivid lights. I cannot recollect the birth of my brother Feri in Budapest, where we occupied a ground floor apartmenL in my grandparents' house, he was just there, and a part ()l our happy everyday life. I can feel my sister Toinette’s firm hold on my frock, hidden behind the stone parapet, all lights ablaze, watching spellbound the arrival of countless carriages and state coaches, gorgeously dressed ladies and gentlemen with glittering decorations and splendid uniforms, mounting the broad marble steps to the white-and-gold ballrooms. In 1906 we moved to P6stelek, the county of B^kes. It was a large house with 85 rooms and seemed a home full of light, colour, peace and harmony as indeed it was and would remain so forever in my memory. Smooth lawns, flowerbeds and little shady patches of shrubs and trees spread out in the park.