The Making of a State/Chapter 1

I WAS on holiday with my family at Schandau, in Saxony, when the Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated at Sarajevo on June 28, 1914. Even before this outrage I had, in my heart of hearts, expected war though I dreaded the final decision which war would force upon me—the decision to translate into action my antagonism to Austria and Austrianism. After the Austro-Hungarian ultimatum to Serbia on July 28, I was therefore in a state of constant tension. Yet I still hoped for peace. I assured my acquaintances that even mobilization was merely a threat and that the responsible statesmen would meet and settle the conflict. From mobilization to the actual waging of war the way might be long. Not even the declaration of war did I take to be the last word. People called me an incorrigible pacifist and idealist. But my last hope vanished when England declared war on Germany (August 4) though I still fancied there were traces of hesitation in the German ultimatum to Belgium, and afterwards in the German proposals of August 9 to the Belgian Government for a peaceful settlement. I thought they showed a certain respect for the opinion of the world. Of course, all these fancies were born of futile reluctance to take the plunge. Even a politician sets store by his neck.

After the second Balkan war, in the summer of 1913, I had worked on a scheme to reconcile the Serbians and the Bulgarians, whose animosity alarmed me; for, as I have said, I expected a great war at no distant date. From time to time I urged this upon many Serbians and Bulgarians; and in the spring of 1914 I agreed upon a complete plan with an intimate Serbian acquaintance, who was staying at Prague. He went home and came back again, with good reason to think that the leading men in Belgrade were ready for peace and would be willing to make concessions. Then I was to have gone to Paris and London in order to get influential ​Western statesmen to put pressure on Belgrade and Sofia and in order also to awaken the interest of the French and English Press. There might have been no need for me to go to St. Petersburg. It might have sufficed to talk things over with the Russian Ambassadors and to influence St. Petersburg through Paris and London. From Paris I was to have gone to Sofia by way of Constantinople since—so I was advised from Belgrade—the Bulgarians would be less suspicious if I came to them direct from London and Paris. The idea was good; but the Sarajevo outrage and the Austro-Hungarian ultimatum to Serbia brought my scheme of conciliation to naught.

There had been a similar and more important effort in the same direction during the first Balkan war in December 1912. I was in Belgrade and discussed the war and the whole political outlook with the Prime Minister, M. Pashitch. As a result he sent for me next day and sketched the conditions on which Serbia would come to terms with Austria; and, as proof of his wish for peace, he was ready to pay his respects personally in Vienna to Count Berchtold, the Austro-Hungarian Foreign Minister, so as to satisfy the Viennese craving for prestige. I was to tell Berchtold of his proposal. This I did, but he did not understand it and would not hear of a reconciliation. When I complained of Berchtold’s bearing to several Austrian public men like Dr. von Baerenreither, Dr. de Biliński (the Joint Austro-Hungarian Finance Minister and Secretary of State for Bosnia-Herzegovina) and others, they were horrified at Berchtold’s senselessness and tried vainly to put things right. More than ever did I become convinced of the superficiality and worthlessness of the Viennese Balkan policy. Think of it: During a victorious war the Serbian Prime Minister shows moderation and offers his hand in reconciliation to the Austro-Hungarian Minister for Foreign Affairs; with the arrogance of a Great Power the latter rejects it and adds fresh guilt to the old Austrian sin of provocation. This episode strengthened the expectation of a great war to which I had been led by historical studies and by observation of Europe. Thus the Viennese attack on Serbia at the end of July 1914 did not surprise me.

During the mobilization the railways were reserved for soldiers and recruits, and we could not get back at once from Schandau to Prague. Masses of Austrians and Hungarians were also returning from Germany. The stay in Saxony enabled me, however, to see the German mobilization at ​Dresden and elsewhere and to compare it with the Austrian, which I witnessed when I did get home, towards August 10. The Germans were much more orderly in everything, and their men were far better equipped; and I was pained to see numbers of the Austrian recruits drunk, especially the Austrian Slavs who came home from Germany or by way of Germany.

On my way back to Prague I observed the Czech soldiers more closely and spoke to a sergeant-major. We were near Melnik, and I dropped a few sceptical remarks about the way the war might go. I can still see the poor fellow’s big eyes as he looked at me and asked sadly, “What can we do?” Yes, indeed, what could we, what must we do? I knew what we, what I, had to do; it was becoming daily clearer.

Prague was politically deserted, all individual and party activity being suspended, but we Members of Parliament met and talked about trifles, for our minds were far away from the Chamber. On leaving Prague our Czech soldiers had given vent to their anti-Austrian feelings, and we heard that, in the army, there was insubordination among them. Soon came reports of military severity and even of executions. Our men were being punished for what I, a Member of Parliament, had advocated. Could I, ought I to do less than the simple soldier-citizen whose anti-Austrian and Slavonic feelings I had encouraged?

To find out how my fellow-members and their Parties felt I began to talk things over with them—often with M. Sv̌ehla, whom I saw at Hostivař and at Karlsbad, and then with Dr. Stránský (the elder), M. Kalina, Dr. Hajn, M. Klofáč (with whom I was in touch before and during his imprisonment), Dr. Soukup and Dr. Šmeral. Once or twice I asked several of them to my house. I approached M. Choc also, but he was so scared that I left him out of account. From these talks I concluded that the great majority in all the Parties whose leaders I had consulted would remain anti-Austrian, even if individual leaders or groups should side with Austria.

At first I was not suspected by the police and the authorities, for I was prudent and tried not to compromise anybody. In such a position it is important to do as much as possible oneself and to say little to others, so that, in case of arrest and judicial enquiry, they can give simpler evidence. Therefore I hid my plans even from those nearest to me. Some guessed, of course, what I was about and what my going abroad would really mean; but I was careful to say nothing to them.

​My mind was made up, for good—Austria must be opposed in grim earnest, to the death. This the world-situation demanded.

The only question was how to begin and what tactics to adopt. At home, neither armed revolution nor even thorough-going opposition was possible. Of this I was quickly persuaded. Outbreaks might have been fomented here and there, but I would have nothing to do with that sort of thing. It would probably be just what people in Vienna, particularly the Archduke Frederick, would like. After careful consideration it was clear that we should have to leave the country and organize abroad our fight against Austria.

While still at Prague, I tried to get into touch with friends in the Entente countries. To this end Mr. Voska, whom I had known in America and who had come to Bohemia on a visit before the war, served me well. As soon as I was sure of his discretion, I arranged with him the raising of a big fund by our fellow-countrymen in the United States for the purpose of assisting the victims of Austrian persecution at home. Then we discussed politics. As a citizen of neutral America he could enter all belligerent countries; therefore I asked him to go home by way of England and to take messages and letters to my friends in London. He assented, and started at the end of August. Several other American citizens went with him so as to allay suspicion. He took verbal messages; what was written were mainly figures and jottings. The messages referred to the persecution of our people and also of the Southern Slav leaders, to the financial position of Austria-Hungary and, finally, to military matters. They were delivered immediately upon Mr. Voska’s arrival in London on September 2, 1914, to Mr. Wickham Steed, then Foreign Editor of “The Times,” who conveyed them the same day to the quarters for which they were intended, including the Russian Embassy. I asked Mr. Steed also to have a hint sent to Russia not to impede our soldiers from passing over to the Russian lines and to receive them well, for the Russians looked upon Czech soldiers simply as “Austrians” and treated them accordingly. Mr. Steed did this through the Russian Ambassador, Count Benckendorff; and, for his own part, sent me word that our soldiers should make themselves known to the Russians by singing the song “Hej Slované.”

Mr. Voska carried out his mission well. He organized, ​besides, a service of special couriers, chosen among citizens of neutral States and among our own people who were returning home. In this way we established regular connections with the Entente countries. Towards the end of September Mr. Kosák, one of our fellow-countrymen living in England, brought me news from Mr. Steed. This news, which I supplemented soon afterwards by a personal meeting with political friends in Holland, was highly important for me and very serious.

It was that, in the opinion of Lord Kitchener, the war would last at least three or four years. For me this question was very weighty, since the character of the work I meant to do abroad depended largely upon the duration of the war. I heard also that the British military commanders thought the fate of Paris sealed, but that nevertheless England would hold out to the last man and to the last ship, and that we ought to keep our spirits up and hold out with the Allies.

Equally important was it for me to know approximately the military plans of the Allies. Their idea was that Russian armies should pass through Silesia, Moravia and Bohemia, so as to cut Austria-Hungary off from Germany strategically. The plan was to be carried out during 1914. The Russians, I was informed, could provide arms for our people so as to enable them to keep order at home.

As later developments were to convince me, the Allies stuck to this idea of separating Austria-Hungary from Germany. Indeed, as we shall see, they worked at it with the help of Austria right up to the spring of 1918. Neither militarily nor politically did I like it. Militarily I saw in it a certain lack of confidence in their own resources; and politically it meant coming to terms with the Hapsburgs, and the preservation, perhaps even the aggrandizement, of Austria. It seemed to me not a plan but planlessness, and it increased my fears about Russia.

Meanwhile I took advantage of my sister-in-law's visit from America to see her on to her boat at Rotterdam. This was between the 12th and the 26th of September, 1914. From Rotterdam I wrote to Professor Ernest Denis in Paris and to my friends Steed and Seton-Watson asking the latter to come from England to see me or to send me somebody trustworthy. But time was too short and I had to think of a second journey to Holland. Yet, as I passed twice through Germany and saw something of Holland, even this first trip was not in vain.

At home things were getting clearer. The anti-Austrian ​feeling of our people increased. The question was how to organize ourselves and what to do. From various quarters I got proof of the animosity of the Court and of the military leaders, especially the Archduke Frederick, towards us, and learned of their plans against the Czech and the Southern Slav [[Portal:Sokol]], or gymnastic, organizations. Action was soon taken against them, the Sokol at Jičin being among the earliest victims. Trustworthy information often enabled me to give a timely hint to those in danger.

Then I managed to go once more to Holland (October 14–29). Again I went through Germany and watched things in Berlin for some days. In Holland I stayed at Rotterdam, The Hague, Amsterdam and elsewhere, studying, as could only be done in a neutral country, the foreign press and war literature generally. This time I got into touch with my friends. Seton-Watson came to Rotterdam where, in the course of two days, I gave him an account of the whole Austrian situation and of my views upon the war and the international position. I explained to him our national programme and our plan of action in so far as it was already defined. He seemed surprised that I should lay stress upon the historical State rights of Bohemia, and hinted that in England we and the other Austro-Hungarian peoples were expected to put the principle of nationality into the foreground. On his return to London our trusty friend drew up a Memorandum on what I had told him and caused it to be laid before the Allied Governments in London, Paris and St. Petersburg. The Oxford Professor, Sir Paul Vinogradoff, who was going to St. Petersburg, gave it personally to the Russian Foreign Minister Sazonof. While in Rotterdam I was able to correspond with Professor Denis, and I met there also Dr. Kastiliansky, a Russian with whom I had already had literary and political intercourse. He moved afterwards to London and helped us in all sorts of ways. In Holland he was of assistance to Dr. Beneš when, later on, we set up a branch propaganda establishment there. I myself established a provisional propaganda centre with the help of the correspondent of “The Times” in Holland. Money began already to reach me from our fellow-countrymen in America; and Mr. Charles Crane sent me personally a considerable sum. With Mr. Steed’s help these transactions were carried out by cable.

In the comparative solitude of Holland I was able quietly to think out and to review our future tasks. Any lingering trace of doubt or hesitation was dispelled by the memory of ​Comenius—revived by his grave in Dutch soil—the example of his propaganda in the political world of his time, his political prophecy and the programme laid down in his will. In my subsequent journey round the world, the will of Comenius, together with the Kralicka Bible of the Moravian Brethren, was for me a daily momento, national and political.

Once again I stayed in Berlin on the way back from Holland and saw several leading politicians and writers. I told the Socialists that they had suffered a defeat when they voted the German war credit on August 4, and said that the Social Democratic Party would soon split. It was already uneasy. On December 2 one of its members (Liebknecht) voted against the new war credit and, on December 20, twenty others followed his example. What I heard in Berlin about the course of the war strengthened my belief in Austro-Hungarian and German guilt.

At home and in the army persecution was increasing. On November 28 the execution of Kratochvil of Prerov showed that it was time to get away, though before I went Matějka was executed on December 15. I was ready to escape to the Allies, the only question being how to manage my final departure. It took some time to make sure whether the police suspected me, for in Holland I had an impression that I was being watched. What I had already done was enough to bring me to the gallows, though, on the whole, little seemed to be known of it. Besides my other foreign relationships I had, while still in Prague, established contact with official Russia through M. Svatkovsky—of whom I shall have more to say—and I had arranged to procure German and Allied newspapers, which were forbidden in Prague. By this means I learned many details that had failed to reach our press.

After my second journey to Holland I spoke somewhat more openly to my Parliamentary colleagues, and I asked them to sanction verbally the work to be done abroad. This was because of Seton-Watson's hint that politicians in Allied countries would want to know whether I was speaking and acting in my own name or in that of our political parties, and, if so, which parties.

The course of the war made me feel uneasy. Who would win it?—a question hard to answer definitely, then or afterwards. As soon as it broke out, I had begun to study a number of works on modern warfare which I had not read ​before. The problem was whether the struggle would be long or short, because our chances had to be reckoned and our work arranged according to its probable duration. The experts differed. On the whole, the opinion prevailed on both sides that a modern war could not last long. Foch, for instance, held this view. The well-known French writer, Leroy-Beaulieu, thought it would be over in seven months, while Hanotaux and Barrès expected the Russian “steam roller” to end it. The Germans predicted a speedy collapse of the French army, as in 1870; and their rapid advance through Belgium and Luxemburg in the North, and through Lorraine and Alsace in the South, bore out their forecast at first. The earliest hostilities went badly for France-Paris was threatened, and on September 2 the French Government migrated to Bordeaux. I hoped that Kitchener might be right, though from what I knew of him I was inclined to doubt the soundness of his judgment.

Until I left Prague I was doubtful, too, about the actual position at the fronts. The battle on the Marne puzzled me especially. I took the French and English view that the Germans had lost it, since they had gone back to a new line; but the French had likewise withdrawn from the Moselle to behind the Marne—a retreat that looked like a defeat. Why had the French not gone forward after the victory? The Germans claimed that two of their army corps had been removed from France and thrown against the Russians in East Prussia, and that therefore the battle of the Marne was not decisive. From the outset the Allies had been numerically superior; consequently, the French retreat was all the more discouraging. I knew several good military experts in the Austrian army but I could not get at them. Not until I went abroad was I able to consult the soldiers and get details. Then I understood that on the Marne the Germans had really been beaten.

This hopeful impression was deepened by the protracted fighting round Ypres—from October 20 to November 11, 1914—for the shore of the English Channel. Here also the Germans were unable to carry through their plan and to get control of the Channel and its harbours (Dunkirk, Calais and Boulogne), whence they could have threatened England. They had to fall back along the whole line and to resign themselves to a war of position. Their offensive had miscarried, their reckoning had proved wrong and their whole plan of campaign was compromised.

​On November 12, however, Turkey sided with the Triple Alliance. Asia Minor, Egypt and the Balkans thus acquired great political and military importance. What would Bulgaria, Greece and Roumania do? British policy towards Turkey (two cruisers built for the Turkish Navy in England had been seized) was severely condemned in “The Times”; and on December 18 the position in Asia Minor was rendered more acute by the British declaration of a Protectorate over Egypt. The war was becoming more complicated—hence it was likely to last longer. Proof of my views on the war at that moment may be found in an article which I wrote for “Naše Doba” (Our Era), in which I pointed out its military, economic and political significance and set forth the problems that worried me, as well as my hopes. The Austrian censor passed the article; though, in the same issue, he suppressed part of an older article on the Balkans, and portions of an essay by Professor Denis on our position in “The International League for the Defence of the Rights of Nations.” In these articles, and in other reflections called “The Warriors of God,” I defined my political aims from the very outset; and, in subsequent numbers, I continued to analyse critically the objects of the war for the benefit of the thoughtful. Day by day I studied the war maps closely. It was on the battle fronts that political issues were now being, and probably would be, decided for a long time to come. The behaviour of friend and foe indicated their war aims as well as their respective strength and capacity.

Our hopes of victory were encouraged by the Austrian reverses in Serbia, by the defeat of General Potiorek and, finally, by the Austrian evacuation of Belgrade on December 15, 1914. On the other hand, the Russian advance to Cracow and to the mountain passes of Slovakia could not offset Hindenburg’s victories in East Prussia, at Tannenberg and on the Masurian Lakes. Though the Austrians and Germans were certainly wrong in underestimating the Russian army and especially its artillery, what I knew of the Russian forces and of the Russian Command filled me with apprehension. Russian vacillation in front of Cracow troubled me. The articles published at that time in my paper, the “Čas,” on the fighting and on the advance and retreat of the Russians, were widely read. They were the outcome of editorial conferences in which conclusions were worked out according to the news and the positions of the armies. Some of the staff were optimistic, far too optimistic, whereas I was reserved ​and even sceptical; it was said jokingly that, when the Russians entered Prague I should be the first to hang. From time to time I alluded in the “Čas” to the unpreparedness of Russia and dealt critically both with the incompetent War Minister, Sukhomlinov, and with the Commander-in-Chief, the Grand Duke Nicholas, despite his patriotic and pro-Slav manifestos. After all, I was right; and I think that one of my soundest political judgments and decisions was in not staking our national cause on the Russian card alone and in seeking, on the contrary, to win the sympathies of all the Allies instead of sharing the mood of uncritical and passive Russophilism then prevalent.

This mood was everywhere apparent. The market women, it was said, were keeping the best geese for the Russians. How eagerly the manifestos of the Grand Duke Nicholas, and reports of the audience granted to Russian Czechs by the Tsar, were copied and circulated is well known, as is the punishment incurred by those found in possession of them. I remember a scene in what was then Ferdinand Street. A well-known Radical journalist stopped me and, in high spirits, showed me a copy of a report of the first audience the Tsar had granted to the Russian Czechs. He was sorely disappointed when I handed it back to him saying that, politically, it meant little. In fact, the Tsar said nothing definite. I admitted, however, that the audience itself was a success; and, as could be seen in the case of this journalist, it helped to keep up the hopes of our people. Of such reports there were many. The story was that Russian airmen dropped them at night; but it seemed to me, from their style and substance, that many of them were spurious. Austria, for her part, was treating with especial severity both the Russian prisoners of war and the Russians who had been staying in Austria when hostilities began. This I recognized when I sought to secure the release of the Russian writer, Maxim Kovalevsky, whom the war caught at Karlsbad, and of the Russian lady journalist, Madame Zvezditch. True, the Serbians were treated still worse.

I often met and discussed matters with M. Kalina, a Czech Member of Parliament, whom I had already told something of what I had done secretly abroad; and I mentioned to him the danger to which our Sokol organizations were exposed ​from the Austrian Commander-in-Chief. We considered the part the Sokols might play in the immediate future and particularly during the expected Russian occupation of the country. Through him I met Dr. Scheiner, the head of the Sokols, with whom we agreed that, in case of a Russian occupation, the Sokols should act as a Public Safety Guard and, should need arise, as a national army. But I did not hide from him my doubts of the Russian army and of Russian policy, and I alluded to the possibility that, if the Germans should advance through Saxony and the Austrians from the South, the Russians might be compelled to retreat. There was a serious possibility, nay, a probability that, should the Russians push forward as far as Moravia and, perhaps, Bohemia, they would be obliged to withdraw. We were bound in conscience to exercise the greatest prudence lest the Austrians take cruel revenge after a Russian retreat in order to terrorize the people for the future.

In the spring of 1914 Dr. Scheiner had been in Russia, and had realized that Russo-Czech political relations were so slight as to be practically non-xistent. M. Sazonof, the Russian Foreign Minister, had complained to him that Czech politicians took no account of Russia and were therefore unknown to the Russians. He had said frankly that we were not to count upon Russia and that the Russian army was not yet ready for a decisive war. Earlier in the year Sazonof had said much the same thing to Klofáč, another Czech Member of Parliament, whom he had assured that the Great Powers wanted no war. But these things were not said or known openly. Our public opinion was uncritically pro-Russian, in the expectation that the Russians and their Cossacks would set us free. Not only did I repeat to Dr. Scheiner my misgivings on the subject of the Russian army, but I expressed my fears of the Russian dynasty and even of a Russian Governor, since Russian absolutism and indolence, as well as Russian ignorance of things and men among us, would soon demolish our Russophilism.

To these arguments Dr. Scheiner replied that, under existing conditions, a Russian would be the most popular candidate for the “Czech Throne,” and that we were obliged to take this into account. I agreed, for it was certainly not the moment to expound to the public the true state of Russia. But I made my conviction clear to Seton-Watson, who explained it in the memorandum which, as I have said, he drew up and caused to be sent to Sazonof. In the interest of ​our relationship to Russia I wished official Russia to know. My propaganda abroad, and especially the memoranda submitted to the Allied Governments, mentioned the prevalence of pro-Russian feeling among us, though, for my own part, I should have preferred, as a candidate for the “Czech Throne,” a member of some Western dynasty or one having influence with Western dynasties had no other solution been possible.

Yet I must say at once that nowhere while I was abroad did I negotiate with anyone about such a candidate. My own opinion I expressed only to my most intimate foreign friends, so that, in case of need, they might know it; but all reports that I negotiated with English or other Princes are totally false. I favoured a Republic, though I knew that the majority of our people were then monarchist. Moreover, the behaviour of the Social Democrats in Austria and in Germany and their attitude towards the dynasties, no less than the murder of Jaurès in France, enjoined prudence upon us in considering the future form of the State, all the more because the question was not then urgent. Republicanism was first strengthened among our people, as elsewhere, by the Russian Revolution in 1917. By that time, it seemed to me, the confidence of our people in the Russian dynasty had been shattered.

I discussed also with Dr. Scheiner the financing of our work abroad, and he gave me at once a sum to begin with. We thought of using the Sokol funds for the purpose; but later on, through some legal arrangement, an embargo was placed upon them. For the time being I was to appeal to the Czechs in America, and Dr. Scheiner gave me the address of Mr. Štěpina in Chicago.

Of the pro-Russian feeling of our people—it was hardly a policy—something more must be said. It was serious, and unforeseen developments made it more serious still.

Though our pro-Russians favoured a maximum Slav policy, their ideas were vague. After a Russian triumph, which they never doubted, a great Slav Empire was to arise, the small Slavonic peoples being linked with Russia. As far as I could make out, most of our Russophils contemplated a sort of analogy to the planetary system in which the planets—the Slavonic peoples—were to revolve round the Russian ​sun. A section of the Russophils desired, indeed, a degree of autonomy within the Russian Federation, with a Grand Duke of sorts as Viceroy or Imperial Lieutenant in Prague. Now I had made a lifelong study of Russia and of the Slav peoples individually and, in the light of it, I could not look to Tsarist Russia for salvation. On the contrary, I expected a repetition of the Russo-Japanese war. Therefore I favoured vigorous action abroad, not in Russia alone but also in the other Allied countries, so as to gain for us the goodwill and the help of all. I insisted that, like me, Dr. Kramář should get away, so that we could share the work abroad; but he, I was told (for I had no chance of approaching him personally), was determined to stay at home since he expected that the Russians would themselves settle the Czechoslovak question once for all. The lessons of the Russo-Japanese war made me fear, however, that Russia would not win and that a new revolution would break out among her people. Then, I apprehended, our own people would lose heart if salvation by Russia had been generally awaited and Russia should prove powerless to help us.

The evolution of modern Russia and of the Russian army I had watched very closely. I had last visited Russia in 1910, when I had got good information of the state of the army. The decay and demoralization which had been so frightfully revealed in the Japanese war had not been overcome and, though reforms had been introduced and weapons provided, progress was insignificant. Of this I had confirmation during the Balkan wars of 1912–1918, and subsequently up to the beginning of the Great War. I distrusted the Russian army administration and the various Grand Dukes. Indeed, the light-mindedness of Tsarist Russia was soon shown by the terrible fact that Russian soldiers had to withstand the Germans with sticks and stones; and it was no compensation that the Archdukes in the Austro-Hungarian army were little better than the Grand Dukes of Russia. In the spring of 1914, about May, I think, a leading Russian journal, the “Novoye Vremya,” had written of Russian unpreparedness for war in the same way as Sazonof had spoken to our fellow-countrymen. This was reported in the Czech press, but soon forgotten, and a miraculously rapid Russian victory was expected. Our optimists are, however, entitled to plead that the Allies were no less optimistic than they.

I could understand that our people should be enthusiastic over the official Russian pronouncements, which spoke of “Slavs and brothers.” That was enough for our public ​opinion. It had not been educated in practical foreign policy, which, for us, really began with the war. I read all the Russian pronouncements attentively. The Russian war manifesto of August 2 spoke of Slavs related by blood and faith-in the eyes of official Russia the Orthodox Slavs of the Balkans had long been “Slavs and brothers.” On August 9 the Tsar, speaking to the Members of the Duma, referred again to co-religionist brethren.” For this reason his further phrase, “the complete and inseparable union of the Slavs with Russia,” did not strike me as particularly precise, since he was silent on the question whether Poles, Bulgars and Serbs, as well as Croats, Slovenes and Czechoslovaks, could be so closely united with Russia. At the Moscow war celebration on August 18, the representative of the nobility declared the war to be a defence of Slavdom against pan-Germanism, and the Tsar replied that it was a question of defending Russia and Slavdom. He said nothing about the Orthodox faith because, for him, that was a matter of course.

In the Duma, Sazonof as Foreign Minister announced that it was the historical task of Russia to protect the Balkan peoples—not the Slav peoples-and that the will of Austria and of Germany must not be the law of Europe. Sazonof, as I heard later, also wrote the manifesto to the Poles on August 15. It was a fine declaration which the Poles accepted with grateful emotion; but I felt misgivings because it was signed by the Grand Duke Nicholas, not by the Tsar, just as the Austrian Emperor had not spoken to the Poles directly but through his Commander-in-Chief. Before long the old enmity between Poles and Russians blazed up again, by no means through the fault of the Poles alone. In fact, Tsarist Russia showed, little by little, that it had no thought of real independence for Poland but only of some sort of autonomy; and Trepoff presently blurted it out and the Tsar repeated it.

Besides, the bombastic vagueness of the Grand Duke Nicholas’s war manifestos displeased me, especially the one addressed to the Austro-Hungarian peoples. Many copies of it were circulated in nine languages. The Slovak text, however, differed from the Czech and other texts in that the Slovaks were expressly appealed to. A special manifesto to the Czech people was also put into circulation, but it struck me as having been forged either by some of our own fellows or by the Austrian police. I could not find it in the Russian files of documents or in the Russian newspapers.

​None of these manifestos and proclamations availed to modify the opinion of official Russia that I had formed by study and observation; moreover, very little was said of the Slavonic peoples in the speeches made by members of the Russian Duma. The Polish representative, indeed, mentioned them so as to avoid naming the Russians; and Milyukoff, the Cadet leader, spoke of the fight against German mastery over Europe and the Slavs. Nevertheless, the Tsar’s bearing towards the Czechs in Russia encouraged our people, who knew nothing of details and were not in a position to form a critical estimate of the Russian or of the European situation. They were unhesitatingly Russophil, awaiting redemption from mighty Russia and persuading themselves that there was no need for active opposition-a state of mind fostered by Austrian political pressure and by the weariness of futile beating against Viennese prison bars.

How vague the Russian press, for its part, was in regard to Slavonic matters, may be judged from an article in the “Russkoye Slovo” which the “Čechoslovan” (a Czech journal published at Kieff) reproduced on September 20, 1914. Commenting upon the manifesto of the Grand Duke Nicholas to the Austro-Hungarian peoples, the “Russkoye Slovo” wrote:—

I need not dwell upon the uncertainty and haziness of this article, especially as regards our people-to say nothing of an Austria which was to separate Germany from the “Near East”! A little study of the map will show how foggy were its notions about Poland, Bohemia and the Slovenes; indeed, its only definite features were those relating to Serbia and Roumania.

While I was assuredly right in looking upon Russia with a ​sceptical eye, it was too late to criticize her publicly or to reduce our pro-Russianism to proper proportions. Even before the war my “open-eyed love” of Russia—as our poet Neruda might have termed it—had often been misunderstood. Now, amid the war excitement, it would not have been understood at all. Yet I was no whit behind our pro-Russians in my love of Russia, that is to say, of the Russian nation and people; but love cannot and ought not to silence reason. A cool, clear head is needed in war and revolution, for wars are not waged or revolutions made by imagination and enthusiasm, feeling and instinct alone. I trod in the footsteps of Havlíček,^[1] who first showed us Russia as she is, and I would let no man and nothing lead me astray. I knew well when, how and how far even a democratic politician—precisely because he is democratic—could and should go with the majority and be guided by general opinion.

Russia, especially official Russia in whose hands lay the decision to make war, was confronted with a Slavonic problem of her own. In her aspirations to Constantinople, aspirations strengthened and even hallowed by old religious tradition, she had encountered the resistance of Austria who, in the service of Rome and of the pan-German idea, was likewise pressing towards the Balkans. For Austria, as for Russia, the small Balkan peoples were but means to an end. Here the Catholic Austrian and the Orthodox Russian tendencies collided. Austria and Russia competed for influence and supremacy in Serbia, Roumania and Bulgaria—countries bordering on the territories of the two rivals, nearest to them in historical development and therefore objects of their special attention.

To the north also—in Galicia and Poland—political and religious antagonism had long made rivals of Austria and Russia. It was here that official Russia saw her main Slavonic problem, though it had been, from time immemorial, subordinated to political and ecclesiastical ambitions. Really, in its broader, racial, pan-Slav sense, the Slavonic problem was understood by few in Russia—only by some Slavonic specialists and historians and by a part of the intelligentsia, who nevertheless looked upon it largely from a Russian religious standpoint. For this reason Russian interest in us Czechs, as in the Catholic Croats and Slovenes, lacked keenness. The Russian people ​had heard only of their Orthodox brethren in the Balkans. Nor were the radical elements in the Russian intelligentsia—the Socialists in particular—who were in opposition to the Government and its official Nationalism and Slavophilism, well disposed towards our endeavours. This we learned by experience in Russia during the war.

Such was, and is, Russia really—a reality too little known among us, for most of our Russophils were satisfied with hazy notions. To them Russia seemed great and mighty; and, since we sorely needed foreign help against Austria and Germany, brotherly Russia was to deliver us—a policy and a state of mind alike comprehensible. Did not Kollár^[2] explain why the idea of inter-Slav reciprocity arose in tiny Slovakia!

Of Russia and our relationship to her I shall have occasion to speak more fully. At the beginning of the war our business was very carefully to weigh the assets and liabilities of the belligerents on both sides and to make up our minds upon the truly fateful situation. I reckoned thus:—

In December 1914, when I was preparing to go abroad, feeling was depressed at Prague and in Bohemia generally. Our people began to be uncertain about Russia and the Allies and also about themselves. Vienna declared and Berlin confirmed that the mobilization had gone smoothly, all races rallying round the Throne. I was convinced that this was not true. At Prague and elsewhere there had been some loyal mummery, but feeling was anti-Austrian. Though some were weak and some ill-disposed, the deliberate resistance offered by a comparatively large number of individual soldiers and the mood of the people warranted, in my view, organization for an active struggle. While our people, especially the educated classes, had long been schooled in the idea that Austria was necessary to us as a dam against the Germanic flood, and while it was to be expected that some leading men would be determined partisans of Austria, the feelings and the convictions of the majority of our people were decidedly anti-Austrian. If only the Czech Parliamentary representatives, as a body, do not disavow me, I said to myself, individual disavowals and newspaper articles extorted by the police matter little. Therefore: Go abroad and get to work, with God’s help! And if Germany and Austria manage to win, or if the war is indecisive, stay abroad and carry on revolutionary opposition to Austria for the future.

Our people abroad had already shown their feelings by demonstrations against Austria. As early as July 27 the Paris Czechs had pulled down the Austrian flag at the Embassy, and on July 29 they resolved to enter the French army. On July 27 also the Czechs in Chicago got up a manifestation against Austria-Hungary, as did the London Czechs on August 8. In Russia our people laid before the Government, ​on August 4, a scheme for a Czech Legion. On August 20 the Czechs in France were admitted to the Foreign Legion, and on the same day the Czechs in Russia were received by the Tsar. On August 28 the “Družina,” or League of Czechs in Russia, was formed. News of its formation was brought to Prague by messengers. All this was in keeping with our programme and with my feeling: Go abroad! Go abroad!

As I knew that I should need facts and figures to convince people abroad of the feasibility of a Czechoslovak State, I took long and frequent counsel of Professor Koloušek upon its economic and financial bases, for it was necessary to have as clear an idea as possible of what such a State (including Slovakia) would be. My programme was a synthesis of Czech aspirations in the light of our constitutional, historical and natural rights; and I had kept the inclusion of Slovakia constantly in view, for I am by descent a Slovak, born in Moravia. Hungarian Slovakia I knew, as I had often been there, and I had a border line between Slovakia and the Magyar country clearly in my mind. Nevertheless, for greater certainty I asked Dr. Anthony Hajn to get one of his friends, a staff officer, to sketch the Southern boundary of Slovakia on a map. This sketch and a list of the chief points on the frontier I took with me.

I must mention also the idea, warmly supported by many of our people and by some Southern Slavs, of creating a territorial corridor between Czechoslovakia and the Southern Slav country. This idea was not mine. It seemed to me impracticable to establish a narrow corridor or strip of territory 120 miles long from north to south, between the Magyars and the Austrians, completely isolating the Magyars. Unless I am mistaken, it was Dr. Lorkovitch, a Croatian Member of Parliament, who carried to Zagreb the idea of this corridor. I had invited him to Prague, as I wished to learn all I could of the position in Croatia before going abroad. The old animosity between the Austro-Hungarian Croats and Serbs might, I feared, break out again, since Vienna and Budapest would do their utmost to foment it. From Dr. Lorkovitch I gathered that not a few Croats believed in the possibility of setting up an independent Croatian State, either as a Republic or as a Monarchy with a foreign (preferably an English) ​dynasty, such a State to include Croatia, Dalmatia, Istria and the Triestine littoral. The question of Bosnia and of the Slovene country was left open. I was in favour of the greatest possible degree of Southern Slav unity, both territorial and political. Italy, I must repeat, was then neutral. Trieste, I thought, might be an independent free port, like Hamburg. At the same time, no detailed plan could be made; but I gave Dr. Lorkovitch my views so that he might inform my Southern Slav friends, whom I expected to meet abroad and with whom I wished closely to cooperate. I met Dr. Lorkovitch again in Vienna before going to Italy; he gave me a map and a statistical table of the Croat settlements in the projected corridor. As to the Slovenes I conferred with Dr. Kramer who, as I expected, told me that the progressive Slovenes were in favour of union between all three branches of the Southern Slav race-Slovenes, Croats and Serbs.

Before starting I wanted to have another good look at Vienna and Austria; and I went right into the lion’s den.

At Prague the story ran that Count Thun, the Lord-Lieutenant or Viceroy of Bohemia, had already received from Vienna a list of the people whom he was to arrest, and that my name was on it. Therefore I had gone to him after returning from my first journey to Holland, ostensibly because my review, the “Naše Doba,” had been confiscated and because official pressure was being put on my paper, the “Čas.” Thun was a decent fellow with whom one could talk pretty frankly; but, this time, he appeared more reserved than usual. Without shaking hands, he took me to a room alongside of his reception-room, where, it seemed to me, somebody behind a curtain was taking down what I said. I had one or two things to tell him—that, for instance, during the recent Balkan wars of 1912–13 the Austrian Government had allowed us to make collections for the Serbians and Bulgarians, and that our Czech soldiers could not be expected to forget this so soon. As to our pro-Russian feelings, we were certainly Russophil, which did not necessarily mean that we were quite enamoured of the Tsar and his system of Government. In any case, people in Vienna ought to treat our soldiers with a little political tact. I said further that our wounded men who had been sent back from the Russian front complained of the inadequacy of the Army Medical Service (to which, indeed, ​army doctors, and Germans at that, had drawn attention even before the war), and that the condition of this service had been influenced by the Archduke Francis Ferdinand, who had looked upon army doctors as atheists and Jews. I added that the military administration had not kept its supply of medicines fresh or its medical appliances up to date, that there were not enough surgical instruments and no X-ray apparatus in the field. Thus I managed to tell him a good deal, including what I had seen in Holland and Germany, and to let him see that things in Austria were not perfect. Politically, I suggested that, if people in Vienna were less biased, they might even be thankful to the Czechs for not wishing Austria to come entirely under German control; and I cited several instances of the unseemly anti-Czech and anti-Slav conduct of German officers attached to the Austro-Hungarian General Staff.

The Lord-Lieutenant was obviously surprised and embarrassed. I felt that, in his heart of hearts, he agreed with me on many points. When I left he thanked me for my visit, said that he had been much interested by what I had told him, and though he did not offer me his hand, he remarked that he had not taken any special measures against me. From this I gathered that I should be able to go abroad a third time without difficulty. I asked him to do one thing—to advise the German Jews in Prague to moderate their Austrophilism, for feeling was strong against them in Prague and there had been talk of wrecking the German newspaper offices. I myself gave similar advice to the more reasonable German Jews. I feared that anti-Jewish outbreaks might make a bad impression abroad and hamper my work. Thun promised to do what he could.

A few days later I wrote to draw his attention to several other matters. This was partly a tactical move to allay suspicion. Then I went to Vienna to talk things over with a number of political men and in order to give a finishing touch to my views on Austria. Among others I saw the former Prime Minister, Dr. von Koerber, with whom I had often talked freely. This time our conversation lasted more than two hours and covered the whole situation. I enquired especially about some of the people at Court; and my chief question was, “If Austria wins, will Vienna be capable of carrying out the necessary reforms?” After much reflection and consideration of the persons involved, Koerber said decidedly: “No! Victory would strengthen the old system, and a new ​system under the young heir-apparent, the Archduke Charles Francis Joseph, would be no better than the old. The soldiers would have the upper hand after a victorious war and they would centralize and Germanize. It would be absolutism with parliamentary embellishments.” “What about Berlin?” I asked. “Will Germany be wise enough to make her ally adopt reforms?” “Hardly,” was Koerber’s reply

If necessary, I could quote from Koerber’s experience of the Austrian Court and its surroundings many an anecdote to illustrate its incapacity and moral degeneracy. But his Memoirs will certainly not get lost. From a purely political point of view his diagnosis was all the more striking because he did not look upon the Hapsburg Dynasty, Vienna and Austria as I did or judge them from an ethical standpoint.

I hunted up also a number of my Austrian-German Parliamentary acquaintances. They merely confirmed what Koerber had said and what I had foreseen; but, before carrying out so grave a decision as that which I had taken, I wanted to hear for a last time what the Austrian-Germans themselves thought about Austria. I discovered, however, that even quiet and peaceable Germans had been turned against us by military influence. Several of them hinted at impending prosecutions and they, like Koerber, knew of the administrative and political schemes that were to be carried through after victory. Dr. Kramář (the leader of the Young Czech Party), I learned, was in for trouble. His pro-Russian policy was a thorn in the flesh of the Archduke Frederick, while pan-Slavism of every shade was a nightmare in Vienna and Budapest. I let some intimate acquaintances of Dr. Kramář know what I had heard.

After this trip to Vienna the only thing was to get ready to start; and, at this point, I must say a word about Dr. Beneš.

Up to the war my personal knowledge of him was slight. I had noticed the articles he had sent from Paris and his other writings. In him I could detect the influence-albeit as yet undefined of my own “Realist” philosophy, of French Positivism and of Marxism. After the outbreak of war he offered his services to my paper, the “Čas,” as a volunteer, and we met often in the “Čas” office. One day, before the regular conference at the office, he came to my house in an earnest mood. He had reached the conclusion that we could not ​remain passive spectators of the war but must do something. He was restless and wanted to get to work. I said: “Good. I am at it already.” On the way to the office I confided in him and we agreed at once. I can remember the scene as we reached the top of the steps that lead down to the Elizabeth Bridge. I stopped, leant against the wooden railing and mused over the view of Prague, thoughts of our future passing through my mind, and the prophecy of Libuša—and of money, for money would be the sinews of political war. Dr. Beneš reckoned up his resources and promised at once several thousand crowns. He had enough to begin work abroad on his own account; and, in fact, he afterwards lived abroad at his own expense. To me, American friends sent what was necessary for my family and myself, nor did they forget us afterwards. Thus Beneš and I felt no anxiety about our own needs.

We discussed the situation at home, as well as in Austria and Germany and among the Allies, in a word, everything that mattered. We agreed upon our whole plan of campaign and also about our helpers at home and abroad. As long as possible Beneš was to remain at home and to organize communications with me after the fashion of the Russian Secret Societies. What I knew of this business was helpful; the rest we worked out-successfully, as I soon found after my departure. Before Beneš himself was obliged to leave Prague for good, he came twice to see me in Switzerland, once in February and once in April 1915.

Work with him was easy and efficient. There was little need to talk. Politically and historically he was so well trained that a word was enough. He thought out and executed plans in detail; for he was soon able to act by himself. As long as I was in Western Europe we met often and worked out everything minutely. By telegram and letter we kept up a lively correspondence. Later, when I could write or telegraph little from Russia, Japan and America, our thought and our work ran on parallel lines. As things developed, Beneš grew. While keeping strictly to our agreed policy, he dealt very independently with the main issues. He had great initiative and was an untiring worker. For both of us it was good that we had led what is called a “hard life.” We had made our own way, worked ourselves up from poverty, which means acquiring practical experience, energy and boldness. This was true also of Štefánik, to whom I shall refer later. Twice as old and experienced as Beneš and Štefánik, I naturally took the lead, helped by the power of our common ideal and ​by our good understanding. Beneš and Štefánik soon realized that my knowledge of men, at home and abroad, was valuable. Indeed, there was no misunderstanding between us during my whole stay abroad, and our cooperation was exemplary. We were few—but neither were the Apostles legion. Clear heads, knowledge, firm wills, fearlessness of death give giant strength. Devoted helpers soon gathered round us, united with us by the cause. Good, strong men there were, too, in touch with us at home and, indeed, everywhere in the Bohemian lands, as our soldiers showed. Before leaving Prague I invited some of them to attend meetings at Dr. Bouček’s house so as to initiate, in addition to Members of Parliament, others whom the police would not so readily suspect. As far as I can remember their names were Dr. Bouček; Dr. Veselý; Architect Pfeffermann; two journalists, Dušek and Herben; Dubský, a publisher; Dr. Šámal and, of course, Dr. Beneš. So arose our secret organization, the “Maffia,” which was led at first by Beneš, Šámal and Rašin; and, after the arrest of Rašin and the departure of Beneš, by Šámal and others.

To sum up. When war broke out we had to gauge the European situation, to estimate the strength of the two groups of belligerents, to judge, in the light of history, whither things were tending, to make up our minds and to act—above all, to act.

Inasmuch as my political outlook was derived from Palacký^[3] and Havlíček, I, like our other political men, had sought for arguments to justify our connection with Austria; and, as may be seen from my studies on the evolution of Czech aspirations, I, like the leaders of our national revival, had been tormented by the problem of our being so small a nation. Attentive readers will, however, notice that, as in the case of our other political men, I began early to waver between loyalty and antagonism to Austria. Hence my constant pondering over the idea of revolution. In my study on Palacký’s “Idea of the Czech People” I recognized the fundamental contradiction between the Czech idea and the Hapsburg Austrian idea. Unlike Palacký, I had already reached and ​expressed the conclusion that, if democratic and social movements should gain strength in Europe, we might hope to win independence. In later years, especially after 1907, the better I got to know Austria and the Hapsburg Dynasty, the more was I driven into opposition. This Dynasty which, in Vienna and in Austria, seemed so powerful, was morally and physically degenerate. Thus Austria became for me both a moral and a political problem.

In judging Austria morally as well as politically I differed from the Young Czech Party and, subsequently, from the Czech Radicals. My view of what was called “positive politics” differed also from theirs. I thought we should take part in the Government not merely in order to reform the Constitution but also to infuse a Czech spirit into administrative practice. I used to speak of “unpolitical politics” and always insisted on the moral and educational side of public affairs. Seats in Parliament and strictly “political politics” did not seem to me to make up the whole of real democracy.

These views led to many a dispute. I do not now claim in self-defence that my opponents failed to understand me, for I confess that, at first, I was not clear or consistent and that I often made tactical mistakes. My opponents erred, however, and spurred me on by claiming that they were the better Czechs, by “patriotizing,” as Havlíček used to say, whereas the real dispute was about the objects of patriotism and the substance of the Czech ideal. Love of country and of our people could be taken for granted. The question was how to apply this love. My opponents thought me too Socialist; and my religious ideas were repugnant to their Liberalism. For my part I could not agree with their German, Russian and Slav policies. My object was to de-Austrianize our people thoroughly while they were still in Austria. What our eventual form of government might be and to what foreign State we might ultimately be attached, seemed to me, as things then were, matters of secondary importance. I felt I was fighting against political and educational narrowness, backwardness and parochialism; and I fought simultaneously on two fronts—against “Vienna” and against “Prague.” Czech Radicalism and its tactics seemed to me agitation rather than genuine warfare; and when the hour struck, when the situation of the world changed and fate compelled us to decide, it was not my opponents who took the decision and transformed it into action.

Having weighed Austria in the balance of my judgment ​and found her wanting, I had naturally been led on to the study and observation of Germany. As history shows, Austria, despite all differences, is bound up with Germany and with Germany alone. For the Germans, and especially the Prussians, I felt some respect, but I disagreed on principle with Bismarck and Bismarckianism. Under him, a blood-and-iron system had been established in home as well as in foreign affairs. I had been impressed by the cleverness of his moderation in 1866 when he merely excluded Austria from Germany and avoided humiliating “Vienna” in order to bind her all the more closely to Germany; yet he was dangerously mistaken in relying too much on Austria-Hungary, whom he despised—“Vienna” particularly”—in his heart of hearts. In 1870–71 he had forsaken his tactics of 1866 and had blundered by annexing Alsace-Lorraine, however foolish the policy of Napoleon III may have been. Afterwards he had wavered between Russia and England. In this man of blood and iron there was too much of the old Machiavellian spirit.

After Bismarck’s fall in 1890, the young Kaiser’s “new course” had been worse than wavering. Politically and diplomatically it was short-sighted, indefinite, erratic and therefore untrustworthy. In colonial and maritime policy it overshot the mark. The young Emperor William disquieted not only the English but the Russians as well and, in general, showed an inadequate psychological perception of men and of peoples. Like Bismarck, he awaited from others obedience and submission rather than matter-of-fact agreement; and he also bound himself too tightly to Vienna. His rule was soon marked by the very opposite of the old Prussian simplicity. In alliance with the growing power of capitalism, the German Imperial dignity and German world-Imperialism took on an upstart, vulgar and morally dubious character—a tendency to which the universities succumbed. The philosophy and the policy of pan-Germanism ought to have been a warning to thoughtful public men; but they were not. The higher command of the army and the army at large, especially the officers, were pan-German. To the pan-German movement I constantly drew attention and urged our people to study modern world-politics so as to give a universal setting to our own policy. Indeed, it was opposition to pan-Germanism, to whose ends Vienna and Budapest were subservient, that caused me to take part in the Austro-Serbian conflict and, finally, in the World War.

I need hardly say that I did not look upon the Great War ​as a struggle between Germans and Slavs, although Austrian hatred of Serbia was the excuse for and, in part, the cause of it. The very fact that the German Imperial Chancellor, Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, and the Emperor William as well as the Vienna and Budapest Governments, cast the blame for the war upon Russia and pan-Slavism, enjoined prudence in accepting so German a theory; nor could the arguments of German Professors like Lamprecht and Gothein convince me of its soundness. I saw more than this in the war. Viewed in historical perspective, pan-German Imperialism seemed to me a continuation of the age-long antagonism between Rome and Greece, West and East, Europe and Asia, and, later, between Rome and Byzance—an antagonism not merely between races but also between civilizations. Pan-Germanism and its Berlin-Baghdad scheme set a narrow nationalist and chauvinistic stamp upon the inherited Roman-German tradition; and two nationalist Empires, the German and the Austrian, which had emerged from the medieval Holy Roman Empire, joined hands for the conquest of the Old World. Not only were Germans and Slavs ranged against each other, but Germans against the West, the German against Western civilization, America being comprised in the West. On the German side stood the Magyars and the Turks (the Bulgarians were of less account), and the German aim was the subjugation of Europe, Asia, Africa and the Old World. The remainder of the world revolted and, for the first time, the New World—America—lent its aid to non-German Europe in repelling the German onslaught. Though America was neutral at first, her sympathies were with France and the Allies, whom she helped from the outset with raw materials and armaments. In the end, America joined in the war and contributed greatly to the final decision—though this could not be foreseen at the beginning. In this union of many nations under Western leadership lies proof that the war was not merely racial—that it was the first grand effort to give a unified organization to the whole world and to mankind. Racial aspirations were subordinated to the general cause of civilization and served its end. Naturally, interests overlapped in many places; but I need not repeat here what I have said on this subject in “The New Europe.”

In virtue of our whole history our place was on the side of our Allies. Therefore, after analysing the European situation and estimating the probable course of the war, I decided to oppose Austria actively, in the expectation that the Allies ​would win and that our espousal of their cause would bring us freedom.

The decision was not easy. I knew and felt how fateful it was; but one thing was clear—we could not be passive in so great an hour. No matter how good our right might be, it had to be upheld by deed if it was to be real; and, since we could not withstand Austria at home, we must withstand her abroad. There our main task would be to win goodwill for ourselves and our national cause, to establish relations with the politicians, statesmen and Governments of the Allies, to organize united action among our people in Allied countries and, above all, to create an army from among Czech prisoners of war. My first message, taken to London by Mr. Voska, shows that I had thought out this military policy from the beginning. Very early in the war, from August 10 onwards, the Russians had captured a large number of Austrian soldiers—according to my reckoning some 80,000 men by the middle of September. Among them I concluded there would be from 12,000 to 15,000 Czechs who could be won over to our League in Russia, the “Družina”; and as the number of prisoners was constantly increasing, our future army would increase likewise. Indeed, the idea of forming an army abroad was so natural that Czechs outside Austria began everywhere to act spontaneously upon it.

Finally, it was necessary that our leadership abroad should be in constant touch with home. The very existence of an organized struggle outside the country would naturally have a stimulating influence on home affairs. It might aggravate matters and demand sacrifices; but, without sacrifice, freedom and independence cannot be won.

Nor need I say that, in all this thinking and deciding upon the fight against Austria, there rang through the depths of my soul the questions: Are we ripe for the struggle, are we mature for freedom, can we administer and preserve an independent State made up of the Bohemian Lands, Slovakia and considerable non-Czech and non-Slovak minorities? Are there enough of us so trained politically as to understand the true meaning of the war and the task of our people in it? In this world-historic hour do we grasp its significance? Are we again fit to act, really to act? Shall we make good, once for all, the disaster that overwhelmed us as a nation in the Battle of the White Mountain three centuries ago? Can we vanquish in ourselves the influence of Austria and of the centuries of subjection to her? Is the hour of fulfilment of ​Comenius’ Testament at hand: “I, too, believe before God that, when the storms of wrath have passed, to thee shall return the rule over thine own things, O Czech people!”

Before starting, I drafted for Dr. Beneš and his associates a scheme of anti-Austrian policy at home. Taking account of how the war might go, I set forth in detail what was to be done according to the turn of events. This draft was afterwards completed by correspondence and in conversation with Dr. Beneš, in Switzerland. In war—revolution, too, is war—courage and determination are not everything; there must be also a well-thought-out plan, the coordination of all forces and unified leadership.