E. F. Benson

CHAPTER I
The Russian Proclamation

On the 14th of August, 1914, the world being then at war, the Grand Duke Nicholas, uncle of the Tsar and Generalissimo of the Russian forces, issued the following proclamation on behalf of the Crown. It was signed by him and not by the Tsar, since international etiquette forbids the Monarch of one state to address the subjects of another state, and this proclamation was addressed, as will be seen, to subjects of Austria and Germany as well as to Russian subjects:—

“Poles! The hour has struck in which the sacred dream of your fathers and forefathers will be realised. A century and a half ago the living body of Poland was torn, but her soul did not die, sustained as it was by the hope that for the Polish people the moment of resurrection would arrive and at the same time the fraternal reconciliation with the Great Russian Empire. The Russian army now brings you the solemn tidings of this reconciliation. May the boundaries be annihilated which cut the Polish nation into parts!

“May the Poles in Russia unite themselves under the sceptre of the Russian Tsar! Under this sceptre Poland shall be re-born, free in faith, in language, in self-government.

“Russia only expects of you the consideration due to the rights of those nationalities with which you became allied through past history.

“With friendly feelings and cordially-outstretched hands the Great Russian Empire steps forward to meet you. The sword that conquered the enemy at GrÜnwald[13] has not grown rusty. From the shores of the Pacific Ocean to the Arctic Seas the Russian armies are marching. The dawn of a new life is breaking for you. May the sign of the Cross illuminate this dawn, symbol of the Passion and the resurrection of the nations.”

Now the meaning which it is natural to attach to this proclamation about which there is a vague and sumptuous magnificence, is that Russia intended (i) to grant independence to Poland; (ii) to restore to it (as it indeed states) freedom in religion, in language, and in self-government, thereby acknowledging that Poland, in spite of the promises made it, had not hitherto enjoyed these benefits; and (iii) to unite to it, “by the annihilation of the frontiers which divide it,” the territories which at the three partitions in 1772, 1793 and 1795, were assigned to Germany and Austria. Poland was henceforth to be free and united under the suzerainty of the Tsar. Owing to the defeat of the Russian armies by those of the Central Powers, the Government was never in a position to effect this reunion, for a year afterwards Galicia and the Kingdom of Poland were in the hands of the enemy.

But during that year no practical steps of any serious or sincere sort were taken to give the smallest effect to this proclamation, and, without cynicism, it seems more reasonable to suppose that the motive behind it was in the main a defensive one on the part of Russia with “disarming intent.” Russia was proposing to advance victoriously on Berlin and Vienna in the crushing manner of the steam-roller about which our Press was once so irresponsibly resonant, and she knew very well that to have in the rear of her armies a race that for a hundred years had seethed with discontent at the withholding of the freedom that had been promised it, was to court disaster. It would have been necessary for her security to leave at least 20 per cent. of her forces to guard the lines of communication, and ensure quiet and order; moreover, in the Russian armies were enrolled some 800,000 Poles, who were being led against the armies of the Central Empires, which contained nearly the same number of men of their own race, drawn from the districts of Posen, Silesia, West Prussia and Galicia, and love of Russia, founded on detestation of Germany, had to rise superior in the breasts of her Polish soldiers, to love of race. The mention, moreover, of GrÜnwald, and the Grand Duke’s confidence that the Polish sword had not grown rusty, indicate that Russia asked for Poland’s loyal and unstinted military support. The Poles, soldiers and civilians alike, were for the moment capable of being a grave menace to the Russian arms, and this proclamation, endorsed as it soon was by the Governments of the Entente, was the surest way of commanding their loyalty and co-operation. In fact, the Grand Duke Nicholas did precisely what Alexander I had done a hundred years before, when in the Napoleonic wars Poland was able to constitute a menace to Russia, and had proclaimed the independence of Poland, in order to kindle Polish enthusiasm on Russia’s behalf. On that occasion, Poland, as we have seen, did not respond to this invitation, but joined the cause of Napoleon, with the result that in place of the fulfilment of the fine words, there followed for her the Congress of Vienna, which, instead of giving her independence, but confirmed the partitions and ushered in a century of oppression.

A further point to be noted about this proclamation is that it contains no hint that the provinces of the ancient republic now part of the Russian Empire, such as Lithuania, should be included in the reunited Poland to which the Grand Duke alluded, or that Russia contemplated in the faintest degree placing within the frontiers of the new autonomous state those territories which for the last hundred years she had incorporated into herself, and which were in fact ethnographically non-Polish, since the bulk of their inhabitants were White Russians or Little Russians. The National Democrats, and their allied groups also, who for years had worked for the unity and independence of Poland, at that date made no such claim, though their policy to-day includes the reunion with Poland of these provinces, but they accepted the Grand Duke’s manifesto as meaning that Russia intended to reunite with the Kingdom of Poland, Prussian Poland and Austrian Poland, and to place the whole with self-government, under the sceptre of the Tsar. Had Russia advanced into Germany and Austria, and made good her advance, so that in conjunction with France and England she could have dictated a peace, it is pretty clear that this was what she meant to do, and she probably would have been obliged to do it, since the Grand Duke’s proclamation as regards Poland was presently endorsed by all the Allies.

Now Russia never had the opportunity of fully vindicating her good faith with regard to the proclamation, for while she was in a state of war, and must needs strain every nerve to the vigorous prosecution of that, it would have been unreasonable to expect her to devote energies to the accomplishment of her promise, and within a year her armies, as we have noticed, had retreated from the Kingdom of Poland and Galicia altogether, leaving the enemy in possession. But during that year the Russian Government, distrusting perhaps the effect of the Grand Duke’s proclamation, did not endorse it by any practical measure, but on the other hand preserved and pursued a policy which was distinctly anti-Polish. Notices on the railways and in other public places written in Polish were suppressed, and the Russian advance through Galicia was followed by the importation of civil servants from Russia to replace Poles. As a guarantee of good faith, the Government might at least have begun placing Poles in official positions hitherto held by Russians, but nothing of the sort was done. Up till August, 1915, when the Germans were at the gates of Warsaw, the Russian Government made no official announcement about Polish independence, nor did they take any practical steps to warrant sincerity. All that the Russian Government did with regard to the fulfilment of the Grand Duke’s proclamation during that period was to nominate a Russo-Polish Commission in May, 1915, with the object of elaborating a project of Polish autonomy. There were six Poles on this commission, including M. Dmowski and Count Wielopolski, and six Russian representatives under the Presidency of the Prime Minister Goremykin. They could not come to any agreement, and the Polish members thereupon drew up and presented to the Government their own proposals. These dealt with two points: (i) immediate changes in the administration of the Kingdom of Poland, (ii) a constitution for Poland which recognised her as a separate state, under the Russian sceptre. This project was never even considered by the Russian Government, and, as was only natural, the sincerity of the Grand Duke’s proclamation came to be seriously questioned. But it is most significant that at the moment of Germany’s advance into Poland, Goremykin, then Minister of the Interior in Russia, announced to the Duma the granting of autonomy to Poland. The object of this was perfectly clear: now, when the enemy was in possession, the Government at last confirmed the Grand Duke’s promises in order to prevent the Poles from embracing the cause of the Central Empires and furnishing recruits for their armies. The confirmation, in fact, of the original proclamation, unrealisable, since the German armies were in occupation, was made in the same spirit as the proclamation itself. We may then, I think, take it for granted that no independent Polish state, to include all the territories of ancient Poland, was ever for a moment contemplated by Russia, nor demanded by Polish Nationalists, and that, as far as practical steps can supply a criterion of motive, the proclamation of the Grand Duke was little more than a defensive measure against Polish disloyalty in the face of the enemy.

Had there been any seriousness of purpose in the Russian Government of granting Poland the national rights so long promised her and so long withheld, some earnest of that purpose would have been given during the year when Russia was in a position to do so. Nothing of the sort was done, and it was not till Germany was in occupation that the independence of Poland was announced to the Duma, and then again no hint of any reality behind this can be ever so faintly detected, for when the Tsar summoned a conference in February, 1917, to discuss the constitution of Poland, it got no further than to debate whether the Polish National prayer might in special circumstances be recited in church! This weighty question was left, as far as I can ascertain, undecided.

In their retreat the Russian armies did their utmost, in obedience to the necessity of the military situation, to render the country a desert in front of the advance of the Central Powers. According to the report of a Dutch Relief Committee, 5,000 villages were destroyed, two million head of cattle and a million horses were requisitioned or died from want of fodder, and 400,000 workmen were out of work. The Russians cut down trees and dragged them across the fields where the crops stood high, thus helping to create the famine from which Poland still suffers; they dismantled industrial establishments, smashing up the machinery and carrying away such as they could transport into Russia, and in the midst of the desert they had made there were left more than a million Polish peasants homeless and absolutely destitute. Others, the more able-bodied, fled in front of the retreating army, and the country was stricken with the sufferings and the horrors that resulted from the dÉbÂcle of the Russian armies. These acts of devastation were, no doubt, dictated by the military necessity, but it was no wonder that they produced the greatest bitterness in the minds of an indigent and starving population, to whom, less than a year before, independence had been promised and the dawn of the fulfilment of their national aspirations proclaimed. Those weeks of the retreat from Galicia and the Kingdom of Poland did more to embitter Polish feeling against Russia than decades of neglect and misrule. Instead of freedom, this military disaster gave them famine, and made a desert of the territory that had been promised liberty.

The native Polish population took the German entry into Warsaw in silent composure. They ignored, they disregarded it, except that in some of the streets blinds were drawn down, as if in protest or in mourning, when the troops passed. Hostile demonstrations were out of the question, but assuredly among the mass of the population there was no enthusiasm. After the manner in which the Russians had treated this unhappy country, both during the hundred years of their possession and at this crisis, it is no wonder that there possibly were, if the German accounts can be trusted, certain local exhibitions of thanksgiving over the removal of the Russian yoke, or that on the anniversary of the German entry in August, 1916, there was a demonstration, organised by the pro-German Club of the Polish state at the memorial set up at Warsaw to commemorate the death of Polish insurrectionists who had been shot by the Russians in 1864. Otherwise only the Jews, who constitute 35 per cent. of the inhabitants of Warsaw, hailed the Germans as deliverers, and on the same day on which the pro-German Club of the Polish state held their commemoration, we find recorded in the Warschauer Tageblatt, a Jewish organ, an enthusiastic celebration of the German entry, which proclaims that this day should be inscribed in golden letters in the records of Polish Jews. “The spirit of Europe,” it remarks, “entered in contrast to Asiatic tyranny,” and it speaks of the Sporting Clubs, the Scout Societies instituted by Germans, in which orders are given in Yiddish for the sake of the Jews now at length allowed to become members of them. For German administration proclaimed full equality for Jews, gave their children religious education, and admitted them to hold office in various state departments hitherto not open to them. This treatment of the Jews was part of German policy to accentuate the acute bad feeling already existing between them and the Poles, for anything, according to German views, which sows discord in the non-German population of her empire is to be encouraged, since it relatively increases her own ascendancy. But we cannot possibly take these demonstrations as illustrative of the Polish national spirit, for they were not of Polish but of Jewish origin. Beyond doubt the Poles, by now, bitterly detested the Russians, who had cajoled them with empty promises of which the fulfilment was famine, but they were not a whit the more friendly to the invaders.

Apart from the defeat of the Russian armies, Germany and Austria hoped that the acquisition of Poland would supply the Central Empires with man-power and with foodstuff. In both these respects they suffered a considerable disappointment, for neither came within leagues of their expectations. But they used the dearth of supplies caused by the destruction in the Russian retreat and augmented by the needs of their own armies as an instrument whereby they might encourage emigration of Poles into Germany for industrial work, while to accentuate the sharpness of this instrument both they and the Austrians laid hands on such foodstuffs as were available. Before the war the production of grain in Russian Poland completely covered the country’s own consumption, and a certain amount was exported; now, owing in part to the Russian destruction of crops, and in part to this commandeering of supplies, there was an acute bread famine. Train-loads of potatoes and wild geese left for Vienna, while Germany during the ensuing months managed to secure 253,000 wagons of provisions, chiefly corn and meat, from the districts of Lomza, Plock and Kalisch, where the Russian retreat seems to have been too hurried to allow systematic destruction, and setting her tabulating statisticians to work she calculated that Poland should be able to send annually into Germany sixty million eggs and a million wild geese. It was also ordained that Poland should support the army of occupation, and permission was given to soldiers to send parcels of food to their relatives in Germany, the contents of which should not be deducted from the rations of the recipients. Similarly all copper, tin, lead and pewter were requisitioned for the needs of the army. At the same time large quantities of seed-corn were brought into the country from Denmark, making a provision for the army and possibly for the Poles in future years.

It is no wonder that, when we consider that these levies were made on a population that was already starving, the destitution of thousands became appalling, and in especial the mortality among infants. In many towns milk and all fats were absolutely non-existent; we read of children so soft of bone that they could not stand upright, and of a plague of scurvy in Warsaw, which affected 90 per cent. of the poorer classes. Food-riots were frequent, and were suppressed with Prussian thoroughness. Yet when the British Foreign Office asked Berlin for a guarantee that supplies let through the blockade should be used for Poland and not for Germany, and that the native foodstuffs should not be used for the maintenance of the occupying armies, it was refused. Needless to say, a chorus of vituperation burst from the Press at British inhumanity, which inhumanity consisted precisely in this, namely, that the British Government did not see its way to let the charity of other countries revictual Germany. Such relief as reached Poland by land routes was put into the hands of Hindenburg to administer, which augured well for the comfort of German soldiers, if not for that of those for whom it was sent.

This policy of starving the Poles in order to supply their own wants both Germany and Austria continued brutally to exercise, and as late as November, 1917, innumerable trucks of fruit, corn and potatoes were passing out of the starving country into that of its occupiers. We may judge from this what fraction of foreign supplies would have been allowed to feed the people for whom they were to be sent.[14]

The starvation which was intended to further Polish emigration into Germany failed in its effect, and we find that only about 21,000 Poles were induced to go, of whom a certain number were taken by force. They did not respond at all eagerly to the bait of “peace and plenty” in the Fatherland, and they viewed with a suspicion that their “deliverers” could ill understand, letters purporting to come from their countrymen there who spoke of the delightful conditions prevailing in Germany. On one occasion von Beseler, the German Governor of Warsaw, sent such an account to the Editor of a Warsaw paper, who refused to publish it unless he inserted a footnote saying that the entire communication came from the German military authorities. For this contumacy he was fined 4,000 marks. Those of the Poles who went were, like the Jews and natives from Lithuania, not permitted to return, and we hear of some of them at work in the Zeppelin sheds at Oldenburg, while interned Polish prisoners were trained and sent to the front.

Similarly the man-power desired by the Germans for recruits in the armies of the Central Empires was not forthcoming at all. Germany had made a grave miscalculation, for though there were tens of thousands of Poles ready to fight against Russia from patriotic motives, there was not one per cent. of these who were ready to fight for Germany. Germany, according to the official German view, had delivered the country from the Russian yoke, and had zealously proclaimed her liberating rÔle. But what she failed to understand was that the national sentiment of Poland had no greater affection for Germany than it had for Russia. There were few, except the Jews in Poland, who looked on Germany as their deliverer, though Germany made the most of the very gratifying remarks which they addressed to the Kaiser about the invincibility of his armies. But as a practical test of the extent and depth of such emotions, the result of recruiting for purely German purposes after the declaration of the Polish state was not encouraging. For the Poles resented the Germanization of Posen and Silesia just as much as they resented the Russification of other parts of the ancient realm. The result, in any case, of the appeal to die, not for Poland but for Germany, as we shall see later, was highly unsatisfactory. The occupied territories made no response whatever.

CHAPTER II
The First Year of the German Occupation

Germany seems to have realised from the first that the management of the occupied territory of the Kingdom of Poland would present difficulties, and, apart from its systematic starvation, necessitated by the needs of her armies, and her desire for industrial emigration into Germany, she adopted a wiser policy than she did, for instance, in Belgium. Warsaw was taken on August 5, 1915, and schools were reopened there by August 25th, and both in primary and secondary classes Germany allowed Polish to be taught. German and Polish in fact were compulsory languages in schools, and German was taught by Poles. Russian, however, was completely prohibited, and no books or papers other than those that had passed a German censorship were allowed to be introduced into the territory at all. Similarly as an anti-Russian measure she permitted the Byzantine ritual for Greek Catholics, which Russia had prohibited. Now Germany had barred the teaching of Polish in schools in the Duchy of Posen and Prussian Poland, but then she had definitely annexed them and incorporated them into the German Empire, and any attempt at conciliation there was mere weakness. But she was still doubtful whether this fresh conquest was ripe for a similar coercion, and in the interval she tried with an amazingly small degree of success to establish friendly relations with the inhabitants.

Russia, moreover, in this summer of 1915, was far from disabled, and there might still be severe fighting on the Eastern frontiers of Poland. It was wise therefore, firstly, so long as no sacrifice was entailed, to seem to adopt a more liberal policy of government than Poland had previously enjoyed, in order, if possible, to make the inhabitants of the occupied territories better content with her rule than that of Russia. Just as in 1914 the motive of the Grand Duke’s proclamation was to avoid having a disloyal and discontented population in the rear of the Russian armies, so in 1915 such indulgences as were given to the Poles were granted by Germany for precisely the same reason as they had been dangled in front of them before by the Russians. Secondly, a fresh invasion of the occupied territory from the East was still to be reckoned with, and her armies might be pushed back. In that case she would have secured, once more in the rear of the enemy’s line, a population that found it had fared better under her temporary rule than under that of the power which had laid their country waste. A third alternative was that she would remain permanently in possession of Poland, and so she proceeded apace with her usual penetrative work, on which we will touch presently.

But what chiefly occupied her with regard to Poland was the determination of what she wanted to do with it. Given that Poland was not going to be reconquered by Russia, there were the proposals of her Austrian Allies, who were meditating a programme far more attractive to the Poles than was any arrangement which Germany had the slightest intention of proposing, to be digested and disposed of. In brief, this “Austrian solution” was as follows the Kingdom of Poland, hitherto Russian, should be joined to Galicia, ceded by Austria, to form a self-governing state under a Habsburg prince, who, being Catholic, would be acceptable to the nation. This scheme obtained some adherents among the Poles, especially the Poles of Galicia of the class whose interests were bound up with the Austrian government, for during the last fifty years they had received far better treatment at the hands of Austria than either Russia or Germany had granted to the provinces that fell to them through the partions. Hatred of Russia combined with hatred of Germany, who made no corresponding proposal about the cession of the Duchy of Posen, inclined many of the more moderate Polish groups, such as the League of the Polish State, to welcome some such Austrian solution as the best that they were likely to secure, and almost immediately after the German occupation of Warsaw the Austrian government published the manifesto of the Galician Supreme National Council, which set forth the general terms of the proposed arrangement. Germany strongly objected to this as inopportune in its appearance, the inopportunity chiefly consisting in the fact that she had not sanctioned it, and did not mean to. In consequence, a similar resolution of the Polish Parliamentary Club in Vienna was only privately circulated. Simultaneously Count Julius Audrassy announced that the Central Powers were agreed that Poland should never go back to Russia, that a new partion would be dangerous, and that she should form a political body with assured individuality as a state with a Polish government. This was confirmed in December, 1915, by a joint declaration of Baron Burian and Bethmann-Hollweg. As we shall see, the consideration of the Austrian solution, and the discussion over it between the two Central Empires lasted more than a year before Germany finally vetoed it, declaring on November 5, 1916, to the Poles of the Kingdom of Poland, the establishment of a State of their own. From the first she viewed this Austrian solution with distrust, as checking her own development Eastwards, for it was a very different matter from creating a state which she herself could penetrate, easily riddling it in an economical and political, and, in spite of the fiasco she was about to experience with regard to recruiting, in a military sense. But it was objectionable to contemplate a new Kingdom of Poland, subject to a Habsburg prince, interposed in the eastward march of German influence. Much might be gained, no doubt, by the withdrawal of Polish representatives from the Reichsrat who would henceforth sit in the Diet of the new state, thus increasing German preponderance in the Reichsrat. Indeed, since the occupation of part of Russian Poland by Austria, many high Polish officials in Vienna had been drafted into the Administration of Poland, and their places had been taken by Germans, but Germany was uneasy about it all. Possibly Austria, with this fresh accession of territory, and the chance of raising an army where Germany had failed, might assert an inconvenient independence of Berlin, whereas at present she was bound to her. For the dependence of Austria on Germany, her indissoluble Alliance, which amounts to exactly the same thing as her complete subjugation, was a thing not lightly to be risked.

But though the solution of the Polish question might wait, there was no reason why a revised system of taxes should do so, and by March, 1916, Germany was in receipt of a very handsome revenue from her occupied territory. The chief of these taxes were as follows:

(i.) She levied an annual contribution of about 50,000 roubles on many towns, as she had done in Belgium.

(ii.) She passed a regulation that every Pole over 15 years of age must take out an annual passport. For this various sums were charged up to five roubles a head, and this tax probably produced about 1,000,000 roubles.

(iii.) She levied a land-tax, a personal property tax, and an “ordinary” tax, producing 34,000,000 roubles. (What the “ordinary” tax was, does not appear. Probably it was a tax on the right of individual existence.)

(iv.) She instituted additional taxes, i.e., stamp tax, dog tax, fire-arm tax, producing about 8,000,000 roubles.

(v.) She levied certain permanent monthly taxes on imports, etc.

(vi.) She insisted that sums due to Russian custom authorities from merchants in the occupied territory should be paid to her, otherwise the goods for which these duties were liable would be confiscated.

In fine, it was close on a year and a half after the occupation of Warsaw by the Germans that any sort of announcement was made by the Central Empires with regard to the constitution of Poland, and even when that came, as we shall see, the proposed national constitution was nothing more than an impotent conjugation of irreconcilable units who, incapable of legislation, could only quarrel among themselves. Here and there small local governments had been formed, as for instance at Lodz, where Hindenburg, in July, 1916, instituted the following:

(i.) A municipal board of ten members, two of whom were Poles, the rest Jews or Germans.

(ii.) A municipal council of thirty-six, of whom twelve were Poles, twelve Jews, and twelve Germans.

Such a body, it will be agreed, did not do much for local Polish autonomy, since the Jews in Poland were notoriously pro-German. But then Germany was not “out” for doing much for Polish autonomy. Her main object during the first year of her occupation was to mark time and to await the developments of her military and other operations in Russia. She wanted to avoid trouble with the Poles, to avoid any measures that should conceivably weaken her grip and strengthen that of Austria, and, perhaps above all, to avoid anything that should tend to throw the Poles back into sympathy with Russia, as her forcible annexation of the country, or her partitioning it again between herself and Austria would have done. Probably (for Russia at that date was a long way from being beaten) she thought she would be best employed in peaceful penetration, which facilitated business between the two countries.

She started a German Chamber of Commerce with its head-quarters at Warsaw, in order to encourage trade between Poland and Germany in a manner most profitable to the latter. Poles who wished to become members of it had first to give a guarantee of their German proclivities by subscribing to the War-Loan, or contracting for the German army; they then on payment of an annual subscription of 100 marks, could put their wares on the German market. That encouraged Poles to enter into relations with Germany, and Germany, entering into similar relations with Poland, flooded the country with hardware and other goods. She Germanized Warsaw, and a letter from a German resident there in 1916 proudly describes how every week it became more like a garrison town of the Fatherland. There was a government band which played in public, there were tennis clubs started, the population was vaccinated, a more sanitary drainage system was introduced, and many new German newspapers appeared. Vaccination and sporting clubs and drainage were, of course, amply looked after in Warsaw before, and this account is but part of Germany’s “make-up” as the deliverer of unhappy Poland from the barbarous conditions in which she had lived under Russian rule. Elsewhere, as at Bialystok, propagandist newspapers were printed in Polish, German and Yiddish[15] the latter for the sake of the large Jewish population there. There was a lack of bullion in Poland, for the Russians had broken into banks both there and in Galicia on their retreat, and had carried off what they could find, and so Germany introduced a worthless iron coinage, which obtained currency in a land wholly hemmed in by the armies of her and her allies. In order to confirm her grip she took over the administration of many Polish organizations, and closed others in order to withdraw the executive from native hands. This was not always a success, for, when in January, 1916, she closed the “Central Citizen Committee” in Warsaw, which regulated provisions, civic guard, Bureau for refugees, etc., the most abysmal confusion resulted, and she was forced to re-establish it again. But this time she put it in the hands of Count Ronikier, one of her most reliable partisans.

Altogether there was plenty to do in the way of organization, in opening High Schools, in establishing banks, in bringing in notaries and lawyers from Germany, in abolishing Polish juries, in furthering propagandist campaigns, and though once or twice she had to instruct her police to watch Polish students at Warsaw, who might be dangerous, and send some to other educational establishments in Galicia, in Silesia and occasionally to prison, while as a further Germanizing measure she imported into the University German students, she did not bring any intolerable hand of oppression on the peoples of the occupied territories, and the instances of her introducing forced labour where her schemes for voluntary labour had failed, are the exception rather than the rule.[16] But, while the future was still so uncertain, and the difficulties of any solution of the Polish question so immense, she delayed any decision on that point until she could give it exhaustive consideration. In the interval she let her fresh provinces enjoy such liberty as was not dangerous to her own grip, and considerably relaxed the rigour of her early days of occupation, for she did not want a rebellious population in the rear of her Eastern armies.

Lithuania, meantime, which the German armies had likewise overrun, was suffering under a far more rigid and tyrannical rule, for Germany had no notion when first she invaded it, that she would be able to retain it, but expected eventually to give it back to Russia; Poland, on the other hand, forming as it does a huge salient in the Eastern frontier of Germany, she and Austria alike were determined, if possible, never to allow to pass back under Russian rule. In the interval therefore, while Lithuania was in her hands, she determined to get as much out of it as she possibly could, and return it to Russia in a completely impoverished and disorganized condition. She had woods felled everywhere to supply her with timber, and compelled the peasants to give up to feed her armies the wheat which they had stored for the spring sowing. The army of occupation was entirely supported by the starving country; all schools were closed except for the teaching of German, and the whole province was divided up into small districts, and the inhabitants forbidden to pass from one into another. Wholesale deportations were made for forced labour, and the peasants were sent to dig trenches in the firing line. All men in the government of Vilna, between the ages of 17 and 60, were called on to report themselves and be examined as to their fitness for work. It was possible for the more well-to-do to get exemption for six months, on payment of £30, which, it was announced, would be spent in procuring warm clothes for the workers and maintenance for their families. Similarly, with a view of getting all that could be squeezed out of the country, Germany raised money there directly, and we find the Governor of Vilna issuing a proclamation for a loan of a million roubles. It was to carry interest at the rate of 5 per cent., and to be paid off at par five years after the end of the war. Should this loan not be subscribed, the naive prospectus briefly announced that any deficiency would be made good by compulsion, and the money seized would neither carry interest nor be repaid at all. With the same end in view, namely, that of giving back Lithuania in as troublous a condition as possible, she encouraged quarrels between the Bieloruski (White Russian) Committee, who demanded autonomy and separation from Russia, and the Union of Peasants, which demanded that the country should form part of Russia.

Equally marked and equally significant was her treatment of Lithuanian Jews. Whereas in Poland, which she hoped to retain, she removed the disabilities under which they had lived, and recognised their importance to herself as Germanizing agents, knowing how powerful and numerous they were (for they form 14½ per cent. of the entire population of the Kingdom of Poland, and the large majority of Polish trade passes through their hands) here in Lithuania, which at first she did not dream of being able to retain, she had no use for them except to get as much as she possibly could out of them. The most of the cash in the country was in their hands, and she resorted to a hundred tricks for getting hold of it, such as printing innumerable regulations about the tenure and lighting of houses, etc., in German only, and then fining the Jews, who could not read German, for breaking them. In the same way, when volunteers for labour in Germany did not readily come forward, since labour in Germany meant working in munition factories, which was unlawful for Russian subjects, she invented out of those who did not offer themselves, a class of “suspicious persons,” whom she forcibly expatriated. The hours of work were twelve per diem, with an elaborate system of fines and imprisonment for unpunctuality. Wages were 200 marks a month, which proved to be not so liberal since 100 marks per month were automatically deducted for board and lodging, by which was meant six feet of floor space in a barrack, and a small allowance for potatoes. Out of the remaining hundred marks, the workmen had to pay both German and Lithuanian taxes, which latter the Germans were kind enough to collect. What remained was then paid, not to the workman, but to his “community” in Lithuania, and was, on arrival there, confiscated by the military authorities. Thus Germany got her munition work done for the cost of board and lodging.

But as the months went on, and Russia showed no sign of a returning vigour that might snatch Lithuania again out of German hands, Germany began to consider what she would do with it in case she could retain it. In this connection an inspired utterance of that very astute politician, Herr Gothein, published in the autumn of 1916, shortly before a constitution—of a kind—was granted to Poland, is of interest. After giving figures that show the increase of Poles in Prussian Poland, he says “If Poland should become an independent state, it would be desirable to assign her a special sphere for internal colonization, and for this purpose Lithuania and Courland would come under discussion.”

Now, this has a two-fold significance. On the one hand it was put forth as a bait to Poland, for it hinted at the possibility of Lithuania being added to a Polish state (thus gratifying Polish Imperialistic ambitions), and on the other it shews that the creation of a large “independent” Poland formed at the expense of Russia, and in reality dependent on Germany was already under consideration in anticipation, it would seem, of the event that has since occurred, namely, the total collapse of Russia, Mittel-Europa, in fact, was broad awake, and its sagacity proved to be justified by what subsequently happened. For the collapse of Russia brought with it conditions more favourable than Germany could then have anticipated, for she never guessed how complete the collapse would be, and these conditions bear directly on her plans for Lithuania, which at the present time (April, 1918) she certainly wants to retain under her direct control. There are two reasons for this, the first that the Ukraine is (in spite of its independence) in her hands, and Lithuania forms a convenient bridge to link it up with her. It was not therefore surprising to find the Lokal-Anzeiger inspired to say (March 9th) that Lithuania was not ripe for independence, since if left to herself, she would become dependent on Poland.

The second reason is that Lithuania forms a bridge to Courland, the Landesrat of which sent the following almost unanimous resolution to Berlin in March, 1918:—

(i.) It asks the German Emperor to accept the Ducal Crown of Courland.

(ii.) It wishes to connect Courland as closely as possible with Germany by conventions covering affairs of army, customs, trade, railway, coinage, and law.

(iii.) It expresses a hope that all the Baltic country will be united politically with Germany.

On this the Lokal Anzeiger frankly says that if Courland wants to become part of Germany by expressed self-determination, Lithuania must necessarily become German too. The Emperor, in reply to the Courland resolution, expressed his liveliest gratification at these flattering remarks, but with an unusual modesty did not actually accept either the Ducal Crown or the allegiance of Courland, though recognizing the re-created Dukedom of Courland, as a free and independent Dukedom, and assuring it of the protection of the German Empire. In other words, it looks as if what Germany is now contemplating is that her sphere of influence should embrace Courland, Lithuania, and the Ukraine. In this case, Austria would probably be given the greater part of the Kingdom of Poland, to unite with Galicia, while the rest would go to Germany. There are, at any rate, indications that this programme is favoured by Germany.

CHAPTER III
ATTEMPTED SOLUTIONS

All this year then the occupying powers could come to no decision about the constitution of Poland, Austria made proposal after proposal, leaning towards the ‘Austrian Solution,’ to each of which Germany demurred, on the ground that any such arrangement would give too great a preponderance to her Ally. Also German opinion—that is to say, the opinion of the governing classes in Germany—was crucially divided. Bethmann-Hollweg, for instance, was in favour of transforming Poland into a sort of buffer-state between Russia (which was not yet disintegrated) and Germany, giving her some semblance of independence, but really placing her under the political and economical control of Berlin. To this arrangement Austria objected, as did also the more pronouncedly Junker party in Germany itself, which, under the lead of the Crown Prince and Hindenburg, preferred open annexation, not of Poland only, but of Lithuania and Courland. Other ‘orientations’ in Germany favoured a fresh partition of the Kingdom of Poland, assigning to Germany some three millions of its inhabitants, and leaving the remainder to Austria. There would follow a fresh partition of Galicia, of which the Western part would go to Austria and the Eastern be joined on to the government of Cholm. This was tantamount to a fresh partition of Poland, to which Count Audrassy was (very rightly) opposed from the point of view of the Central Empires, saying that such an arrangement would but throw Poland back into Russian arms. From a military point of view the advantages of complete annexation, with this further partition, were to be found in the rectification of Germany’s Eastern frontier, in which the Kingdom of Poland at present forms a huge salient; politically, it would result in the complete destruction of Polish nationality. On the other hand politicians who favoured the establishment of a new state dependent on Germany, argued that annexation would merely increase the influence of the Polish element in the German Empire, in which already there were incorporated 4,000,000 Poles. They therefore worked for a small weak Polish state, under the military and political control of Germany, the weakness of which would be accentuated by the large number of Jews, to whom they would give a separate national existence, and use as Germanizing agents. Thus the danger of a strengthened Polish influence within the empire would be avoided, and Polish nationality would be gradually crippled. As a counterblast, as mild as the remote bleating of a sheep, against any arrangement of the sort being made, the Duma, with unconscious humour, proposed a complete dismemberment of Germany, and reiterated the meaningless phrase about the re-union of Poland, over which Russia had no longer the smallest control.

Poland, in fact, was being wooed by both the Central Empires, not so much, perhaps, as a desirable maiden, but as a fly that hovered between the webs of two spiders, and Austria, as a measure of enticement, ceded the district of Cholm back to Poland. But this scheme of uniting Galicia with Russian Poland, under a Habsburg regent was not, as we have seen, acceptable to Germany, particularly when Austria suggested that the Duchy of Posen should also become part of the new independent kingdom. There was a certain equity about the suggestion, for if Austria contributed Galicia, it was but reasonable that Germany should make some corresponding cession. But Germany was not on the look-out for equitable arrangements: she foresaw that it would be necessary to grant some sort of constitution to the occupied territory, and very likely to throw in the adjective ‘independent,’ but the independence that she designed connoted a dependence on herself, and as largely as possible a measure of independence with respect to Austria. She did not, either, look with any favour on Austria’s selection of a regent, for Austria had tentatively selected the Archduke Charles, who had married his two daughters to Polish nobles, namely, Prince Dominic Radziwill and Prince Czartoryski, and himself lived in Galicia, spoke Polish and was of strong Polish sympathies. So from time to time she threw out the name of a German candidate, suggesting, for instance, Prince Leopold of Bavaria and Prince Eitel Friedrich, the Kaiser’s second son. Once during the summer of 1916, Germany apparently made up her mind on a compromise, and settled to proclaim Prince Leopold as regent and to accept the rest of the Austrian solution with him as counter-weight, and the Chancellor went to Vienna to conclude matters, in the hope that Germany would be able to raise at least half a million men for her armies on the enthusiasm aroused by this proclamation. But the Emperor Franz Joseph roundly told him that such an arrangement would cause an insurrection in Poland, and Germany had to yield. In fact a German prince on the throne of Poland was as unacceptable to Austria as an Austrian prince to Germany, or either an Austrian or German prince to the national sentiment of Poland. Indeed, the solution as to the choice of a regent for Poland has not yet been solved, and is likely to remain insoluble, unless some military or internal crisis tightens Germany’s grip on Austria, who may then be forced to accept a German nominee.

On the other hand, though the joining of Galicia to Poland, under a Habsburg regent, who at any rate would be more acceptable to a Catholic country[17] than any one whom Germany could suggest, would give a preponderating influence to Austria in Polish affairs, Germany saw that certain equalizing adjustments might be made here. Since the new state would have a large measure of autonomy, it was only reasonable that the Poles who sat in the Reichsrat should sit there no longer, for the Polish membership would be localized in the Senate or Diet (or whatever form of Government the “Austrian Solution” should give to Poland), and Germany foresaw an accession of seats in the Reichsrat that would increase her preponderance there over Czechs and Slovenes. But against the increased preponderance of the German element in the Reichsrat must be set the fact that with the establishment of the new state Poland-cum-Galicia, the Reichsrat, instead of representing half the Dual Monarchy would for the future represent only a third. More than once during this year she came near to accepting some sort of Austrian Solution, always providing that there should be no question of her giving up any part of Germany at all, as a compensation for Austria’s loss of Galicia. Indeed, she could not accept the formula “los von Galizien”: she referred to it as the acquisition of Poland. Germany, in fact, during the whole of this period was cudgelling her brains for a solution that would be wholly favourable to herself.

A point on which the two Central Empires were quite agreed—indeed, this is the only point on which they were agreed as regards the future of Poland—was that it must never again come within the sphere of Russian influence. While Russia was still a power to be reckoned with, Germany contemplated a Poland with some vague measure of autonomy and possibly even a Poland with access to the Baltic, not, it is hardly necessary to say, the Dantzig access, but an access through Courland. Some sort of buffer state, leaning on her, with a function similar to what she would desire to establish in Belgium with respect to France, was not inacceptable to her as existent between her and Russia. Lithuania and the northern part of the Kingdom of Poland would answer the purpose. Austria would have liked precisely the same thing, but in this case the Kingdom of Poland and Galicia would make the buffer for her, while Germany wanted the buffer further north. Both were agreed (or so it seems) on having a Poland with some sort of nominal independence interposed between them and the power that they then still feared, but they kept shifting the proposed site of this bolster like uneasy bedfellows. Furthermore, Germany was in the fortunate position of a potential blackmailer; her armies had already saved Austria from what, but for her, would have been an irresistible Russian advance through Galicia, and Russia was still powerful and coherent enough to advance there again. Should that occur, and should Germany refuse to threaten the Russian right flank, as she had done before, Austria would be in a very uncomfortable place indeed. The defeat of Austria, no doubt, would seriously menace Germany in this case, but Austria’s “turn” would come first. This constituted a decent blackmailing case with regard to the disposition of the bolster.

Given some settlement of that, they were both determined in unbreakable harmony that Russia should not have a friend in Poland. True to her dilatory nature which has always locked the stable-door long after the horse has been stolen, Russia who, up till the last moment when she was finally swept out of Poland had always had the opportunity of appearing desirous to substantiate the Grand Duke Nicholas’ promise on behalf of the Crown, and of feeding the horse while it was in the Russian stable, began to show it—only show it—bushels of oats after it had been stolen, and had passed out of the stable altogether. What prompted this belated exhibition of oats was the action of M. Dmowski on behalf of the Polish national Committee in Petrograd. As leader of the National Democrats, he determined to bring pressure on Russia by means of enlisting the sympathy of the Western Entente powers for Poland, went to Paris and presented a memorandum to M. Isvolsky, the Russian Ambassador there. The chief points in this were—

(i) It is in the interest of all the nations menaced by Germany to reunite the dismembered portions of Poland in one free state, and to give it complete liberty to organize its national forces and oppose them to the German peril.

(ii) The Poles, who form a people more numerous and more advanced than any of the smaller nationalities of Central Europe and the Balkans, have the same right as they to be an independent national state, and they cannot in conscience renounce this right which has been recognised by all the other nationalities.

(iii) By recognising this right Russia and her Allies would arouse the enthusiasm and suppress at the same time the suspicion of other nationalities who are solicitous for their independence, and who would all then rise against Germany.

The precise application of this last clause is not very apparent (it refers, I imagine, to Balkan states), but this memorandum and the action of M. Dmowski in enlisting the sympathies of Paris and London much impressed the Russian Government, and in especial Sazonoff, who thought it was necessary for Russia to settle the Polish question at once on Russian lines, for fear of its becoming an international question. Towards the end of April, accordingly, he presented a memorandum to the Tsar, urging that the Polish question should be determined without delay, since not only Germany and Austria were preparing a solution of it, but the Western powers of the Entente were also being interested in it. With this memorandum Sazonoff presented the Tsar with a project for Polish autonomy.

In July, 1916, this project of Polish autonomy was discussed in a Ministerial Council at Petrograd, and the idea of a Poland unconnected with Russia was dismissed as impossible. Of all the Cabinet at Petrograd at that date, Sazonoff was the only man who realised that to win Polish allegiance back for Russia it was necessary not only to make promises but to do something as earnest of their fulfilment, such as the amelioration of the misery of the Poles then in Russia, or to make solemn reiteration on the part of Russia with regard to Polish independence. His motives seem to have been those of a keen Russian nationalist, desirous of gratifying Polish aspirations in order to secure Poland’s adhesion to Russia, and at the same time to prevent the Polish question becoming an international interest. At this Council he came to loggerheads with StÜrmer, whose sympathies with Germany were notorious, and who, in opposition to Sazonoff’s policy, persuaded the Tsar to take no definite step at all in the Polish question, thus playing the German game and helping to alienate Polish sympathies from Russia altogether. The upshot was that Sazonoff sent in his resignation or, as there is good reason to believe, was dismissed, and Germany scored another signal victory, from the Mittel-Europa point of view, in the retention of StÜrmer, a German agent, in the Russian Cabinet.

At once a reactionary tendency set in in Russia: it was argued (here was the voice of StÜrmer) that the Russian military situation was excellent, and that Germany was weakening. As a corollary it followed that the proposed union of Poland (i.e. the formation of an independent kingdom consisting of German, Austrian and Russian Poland) was of no profit to Russia: Russia would have united Poland only to lose Poland. This view, of course, finally disposed of any significance that could be attached to the Grand Duke’s proclamation. It had resulted in nothing hitherto: now it was simply torn to shreds. “We have been led into this war,” said StÜrmer’s voice, “against our national interests.” That one sentence gives the measure of the German penetration into Russia, hitherto unsuspected, and not recognised even then.

So, under German dictation, the friendly hands which Russia seemed to desire to put out to Poland, though long after the time for such mere gesture was past, were covered with German gloves, and held the dagger which should stab the very heart of all real Polish national sentiment. On August 12th, 1916, there was circulated a private draft concerning the constitution of Poland, which was a miracle of efficient composition, seeing that its object was to alienate the Poles from Russia. The provisions in it that are of interest are the following—

(i) A united Kingdom of Poland to be formed with its own Diet.

(ii) Questions concerned with the interests of all subjects of the Tsar, including Poles, to be decided by the Imperial Houses of Parliament.

(iii) The state language of United Poland to be Polish. Russian to be taught in schools.

(iv) Frontiers of the new Polish state to be determined after the war.

Surely there was the German leaven beginning to work. None knew better than she that this sort of thing was the precise and perfect way of alienating Poland from Russia, and embittering Polish feeling: she could not have drafted a more satisfactory proposal herself at Berlin. It promised nothing except a Diet, the functions of which were left entirely vague. For all that was said, the legislation of the Diet might be overruled by the Duma or the Cabinet or the Tsar. Poles were included among the subjects of the Tsar, and questions relating to them were to be settled at Petrograd: no frontiers of the new independent state (which by these very provisions was completely dependent on Russia) were so much as indicated. Russia was preparing to hang herself in the rope that Germany gave her. But Germany was in no hurry, and gave Russia some more rope to ensure a longer drop.

It was worth waiting, for in October, 1916, Russia had fixed on her neck the longer rope. This time a Nationalist member of the Duma, called Tchikatchov, propounded a scheme for Polish autonomy, which was published and submitted to the Russian Government. It suggested that—

(i) The limits of Russia should be defined, lest Russia, “swallowing Poland, should be poisoned by her.” White Russia and Little Russia must be independent of Poland.

(ii) A danger to be averted is the influence of Poles, whether German, Austrian or Jewish, on Russia.

(iii) Russia must be “at home” in Poland, and the Russian language must be used in public utterances.

(iv) All official positions in Poland must be filled by Poles, but no official positions in Russia must be filled by them.

(v) The Secretary of State for Poland must be a Russian.

(vi) Cholm and Eastern Galicia must be excluded from Poland, and belong to Russia.

Now is it possible to conceive a better mise-en-scene for a German declaration of independence for Poland than these amazing Russian utterances? Both received favourable consideration from the Russian Government, and between them (given that Russia in the event of her victory over Germany embodied them in a constitution for Poland) they left no shadow or semblance of independence at all. Poles might fill official posts in Poland, but they would no longer be able to occupy any position at all in Russia. Their seats in the Duma would be taken from them, and whatever conclusions they came to as to the government of Poland (whatever “Poland” might prove to be when its frontiers were defined) would be referred to the decision of the Duma, since Poles were still subjects of the Tsar, and Poles would no longer have seats in the Duma. The Secretary of State was to be a Russian, and in effect this scheme for the independence of Poland merely deprived the Poles of their seats in the Imperial Parliament. All decisions of the Polish Diet were to be referred to Petrograd, and instead of gaining liberties, they would but sacrifice any such liberties as they previously had. It is precisely as if Ireland were to lose her seats at Westminster and have a separate Parliament of her own, the legislation of which, before it took effect, would have to be referred to Westminster. Already, also, Cholm had been given back to the Poles by Austria; now this scheme confiscated it again. It is impossible to imagine a more signal triumph for German influence than this, for of all Russia’s century of political imbecility with regard to Poland, here was the very flower and felicity.

So Germany had not lost much by her year of waiting before she began to take any practical measures concerning the future constitution of Poland. She had on the contrary enabled Poland to see with devastating clearness that even if the Russian armies (as seemed highly improbable) gained a smashing victory over Germany, the Poles must not expect anything from the conqueror. She had, too, by October, 1916, blackmailed Austria into abandonment, as an official programme, of the Austrian solution, and by this year of waiting she had caused to spring up in Poland many shades of feeling, which formed themselves into parties, negligible for the most part, and divided among themselves. With regard to them, she could reflect with cynical truth that there was “safety in numbers.” But solid against her, and she knew it, was Polish national sentiment which underlay all the bickering little parties into which Poland was split up. What would have satisfied all parties (and nothing else would have satisfied them all) would have been the creation of a real united and independent Poland, at the idea of which Germany could laugh, not in her sleeve but quite openly. What probably added resonance to her laughter was the public and official utterances of the notorious Protopopoff in Paris during this month, which certainly were humorous, considering the frankness with which the Russian Government had declared its intentions. He announced that “a great Poland will arise, which will unite all the Poles, Russian, German and Austrian. It will be a Poland enjoying its own government, its own Parliament and its own language. This must happen, because it is the wish of the whole of Russia.” There was never a more irresponsible and futile utterance, and it deceived nobody.

Simultaneously, in prompt contradiction, came a semi-official utterance from Russia, proclaiming that “never will the Russian people consent that a span of Russian earth should return to Poland, or an orthodox Russian submit to even a shadow of Polish authority.” And StÜrmer, then Minister of the Interior, issued a regulation prohibiting the evacuated population of Poland, Lithuania and the Baltic provinces from using Polish at public meetings. There could scarcely have been framed a completer comment on Russia’s benevolent intentions, and on her sympathy with Poland, and with Poland’s national aspirations.

Germany could hardly do more than say “Amen”; her prayer was answered, and Russia had hanged herself. And since no one else seemed inclined to proclaim the independence of Poland, she proceeded with infinite irony and the fervent consent of the All-Highest to do it herself. This proclamation was issued by the Central Empires on November 5th, 1916.

All this year the famine in Poland had continued and Germany had taken no steps to relieve it, for she hoped to encourage Polish emigration to smiling, welcoming Germany by its means. In the same way, when the citizens of Warsaw sent a petition to von Beseler that factories should be reopened, he replied that anybody could get work in Germany. At this time 47 per cent. of the population of Warsaw were dependent on relief.

CHAPTER IV
POLISH INDEPENDENCE (MADE IN GERMANY)

In this proclamation of a Polish state made jointly at Warsaw in the name of the Central Empires there was a provision attached that the Poles should raise an army to defend it. Poland, being now “protected” and proclaimed a state by Germany, must be defended against Russia, the common foe, and in consequence this defensive army would form part of the armies of the Central Empire. This was convenient, for Germany needed men, and since in the proclamation of the new State she gave nothing away with regard to the liberties or independence to be granted it, she hoped to raise fresh troops without loosing a little finger hold on Poland. She wanted troops against Russia, and hoped that Poland would furnish them. The idea was not devoid of cunning, but as so often happens with cunning ideas, it lacked perception, and was based on an uncomprehending stupidity.

The proclamation was followed up four days later by another joint proclamation bidding the citizens of the new State to enrol themselves in the army, and the Governor-Generals of Warsaw and Lublin, von Beseler and Kuk, as directors of recruiting, issued manifestos declaring that “In order to secure for the Polish army the position of belligerents, it will for the time being be included in the German Army.” But the citizens of the new state, instead of responding to the call, began to ask themselves whether they were enlisting in a National army or in a German Army, for the phrase “for the time being” seemed to call for elucidation. If it was a National army for the defence of their new independent state there must be a government of that state, and a military department for the organization of the army. In fact, there were four demands which must be met before the new state could feel sure that it was asked to furnish recruits for a National army and not for a German army. These preliminary necessities were as follows:

(i) A head of the new state, in whom shall be invested supreme authority, must be appointed.

(ii) The spheres of occupation of the German and Austrian control must be abolished before the State can come into existence.

(iii) Some national Council of the State must be appointed to draft its constitution.

(iv) There must be a Military department to organize the new Army.

In a word (the logic of which is irrefutable) you cannot have an army to defend a state, before that army has a state to defend. A state postulates by the very meaning of the word, a constitution and laws. Create the state, and after that it is time to think of creating an army to defend it.

With regard to the proclamation of the state of Poland, out of all the parties and cliques that composed that state only two voices raised themselves in its favour. The first was that of the notoriously pro-German “Club of the Polish State,”[18] a very small group which sent, under the signature of its President, Studnicki, a very pleasant telegram to the Kaiser. Studnicki, it may be remarked, had been throughout a specimen of the rare pro-German Pole. Subsequently, in March, 1918, he published a manifesto in the Narod i Panstwo declaring that Poland must lean on Germany “for we can only consolidate our forces with the help of the German occupation.” The following are extracts from Studnicki’s telegram.

“Great Monarch! On this day of joy for the Polish nation, when it learns it will be free, the hearts of freedom-loving Poles are full of gratitude for those who by their blood have liberated them....

“The victories of Thine invincible arms have given (us) liberation from the Russian yoke of our two capitals, equally dear to the Polish heart. Warsaw and Vilna ...

“We know that in all this is Thy will, Highest Lord, that the governing faith of those historic events is the strength of Thy spirit....”

Here, the inclusion of Vilna as a “Polish capital” is interesting. The Club of the Polish State foresaw a further benefit in store, which has not at present been permitted to materialize, namely, the union of Lithuania with Poland. There was a certain ground for this aspiration since at the capture of Vilna by the Germans, Pfeil, in command of the German troops, proclaimed that he considered Vilna a Polish town. But the German government did not agree with him.

The other note of congratulation was in the Cracow paper Czas, the organ of the pro-Austrian Conservative party. It sees the act of God (probably “Gott”) in the proclamation and adds,

“On the spot from which the victorious sword has driven out Russia, the invader and oppressor, appears now, on the map of Europe the inscription ‘Poland’.”

Naturally the German press swelled into a perfect chorus of Lobgesang, exclaiming that while the Entente vented high talk and Pecksniffian ejaculations about the rights and liberties of small nations to a national existence, magnanimous Germany alone had acted instead of talking, and had freed a down-trodden nation from the yoke of Russian oppression.

But apart from these two instances a universal chorus of discontent went up from every section of Polish politics. M. Roman Dmowski, leader of the National Democrats, and of the Polish party in the Duma, issued a manifesto on their behalf, calling attention to these points:—

(i) The Polish Nation is one and indivisible. Its aspirations can not be content without the reunion of partitioned territory.

(ii) The proposed creation of a Polish state formed only of occupied territories of a single part of Poland merely confirms the partition of the country.

(iii) Without making definite pledges as to the rights and prerogatives of the kingdom, the Central Empires only emphasize its dependence on them. In return they require the Poles to furnish an army.

(iv) This army is to be sent into battle to defend a cause which is not Poland’s, and is subordinated to Germany and Austria.

(v) The military projects of Germany and Austria are disastrous for Poland.

A large meeting of peasants, usually an unorganized body of opinion, was held at Lodz, demanding (i.) an immediate constitution for the state; (ii) the appointment of a King of ancient Polish lineage, who should be a Catholic, should speak Polish, and be the supreme commander of the Polish army, to be formed for the defence of the state. In the Duma, as was natural, the Polish Club, with Harusewicz as spokesman, denounced the German proclamation, saying that all true Poles repudiated it entirely. Though German propaganda announced enthusiasm over it among Poles in Paris, the Poles there, as a matter of fact (largely National Democrats), passed a resolution condemning it. The Central Committee of the Polish Socialist party did the same, making specific demands about the appointment of a Diet, with a view to summoning which a provisional Government must be appointed, composed of democratic elements. They were willing to defend Poland against Russia, but Germans and Austrians could not call them to arms. Peasants in Lublin followed the example of Lodz, and presented a similar petition to Kuk, the Governor-General, who found nothing better to say than that he saw with joy that the peasants took an interest in the building of the state. In the United States an enormous demonstration was held, representing the four million Poles there, declaring the proclamation to be a strategic move on the part of Germany, and protesting (i) against the formation of a Polish army to help Germany, (ii.) against a pretended Polish government which is merely an instrument in German hands, and (iii.) against a new partition of Poland. The Realist party, consisting of landowners, similarly rejected it, claiming an independent Poland (though in 1914 they had accepted autonomy under Russia) and declared that the proclamation of a belligerent cannot constitute a solution of the question. In Switzerland, the Poles expressed their sentiments about the proclamation by a manifesto of which the following is the key—“The ‘rights’ of the independent Kingdom of Poland under German auspices seem to be the right to die for Germany.” Even Lednicki, a supporter of the German solution, was a patriot on paper for a moment, and issued a manifesto that “Poland proclaims her standpoint, unmindful of German bayonets.”

Without further multiplication of such views, which were accompanied by expressions of loss of confidence in the promises of the Entente powers, it is sufficient to say that never were so many different political parties in Poland united over any question as over their repudiation of the German proclamation of the State and the consequent (November 9th) attempt to raise a Polish army to fight German battles. This attempt may be dismissed very shortly with the statement that instead of the army of 700,000 or 800,000 men whom Germany hoped to recruit, she succeeded, during the next two months in enlisting 1,800 men, of whom 1,200 proved to be physically unfit, from the effect of a year’s starvation. Six hundred, in fact, were all the efficient support that she was able to raise. Even the Czas, which had shown some enthusiasm over the proclamation of the Polish State could not support the idea of an army raised for the defence of the State, before the State had any existence, and said “There can be no army without a Government. Some way must be found whereby the Polish nation can initiate and direct the formation of a Polish army.” Even in highly-censored Germany, the true nullity of this declaration of Independence, was recognized, and we find Herr Max Weber neatly summarizing it in the Frankfurter Zeitung of February 25th, 1917. He says “(the Central Empires) issued an unactionable promissory note with no definite contents in favour of a beneficiary who had not yet attained a corporate existence.”

The almost unanimous reception accorded to these two schemes made it clear to the German authorities that some sort of Polish government must come into existence, and four days later an order was issued for the establishment of a government which was neither more nor less than a swindle. Unfortunately, it was an obvious swindle. The Government was to take the form of a Diet and a Council of State, and the provisions were as follows:—

(i.) The Diet is to consist of seventy members belonging to the German sphere of occupation, and to be appointed by the Town Councils of Warsaw and Lodz.

(ii.) This Diet will appoint eight members of the Council of State, and four more will be nominated by the Governor-General of Warsaw, who will also appoint its Chairman.

(iii.) The language to be used both in Diet and Council is to be Polish.

Now, so far there seems to be a certain “Polishness” about the new Government, which vanishes cleanly and completely when we consider the proposed functions of the Diet and of the Council of State, for—

The Governor-General, in fact, provides subjects of discussion for the two bodies, but is under no obligation to accept their conclusions. One of these bodies, the Council of State may “initiate legislation,” a phrase utterly meaningless, since no provision is made for the completion of such legislation. In other words, neither body has any powers at all, and their only functions are to converse on subjects indicated to them by the Governor-General.

This led to a protest from the Poles, who independently formed a Provisional National Council in Warsaw, consisting (according to the original scheme) of 81 members, of whom Warsaw contributed 41. They ignored the Diet and Council of State as set up by the Germans, and demanded that,

These proposals, put forth by the Polish self-appointed National Council in two successive demands, were admitted, and in this fact we can find a certain significance. Germany had to recognize the National Council, and thus the Poles got a certain real voice in the making of the Constitution which they did not enjoy under the original German scheme. Probably also pressure was put on her ally by Austria, the official press of which country had entirely ignored the first declaration, since it implied the total abandonment of the “Austrian Solution,” and the only announcements given of it in the unofficial press were derived from Berlin.

Thereupon, with a slight modification of numbers, the Provisional Council of State, to which National Democrats, Realists, and Social Democrats refused to belong, came into existence. It consisted of 25 instead of 20 members, 10 for the sphere of Austrian occupation, and 15 for the German. Its functions, however, were prescribed by the occupying powers, and were to all intents and purposes as barren as according to the first German promulgation, running as follows:

In other words, the Council was only to meet when summoned by the two Emperors, either of whom apparently had the power of proroguing it sine die. When it was summoned, the only powers it possessed were those of discussion, and therefore as far as constitutional functions go, it might just as well not meet at all.

As far as I have been able to ascertain, there were, apart from the supporters of the National Democrats, who refused to sit in the Council of State altogether, some eighteen or nineteen parties, most of whom consisted of a mere handful of men, and in consequence the wranglings over the appointment of the Council of State were likely to prove interminable. General von Beseler, after urging conciliation and speed, without success, finally (in January, 1917) issued an ultimatum that the Council of State must be complete in 24 hours, and apparently it was. In this Council the National Democrats, the Realists, and the Social Democrats refused to take part, though Pilsudski, who had raised the Polish legions (of whom presently) said he would not enter the Council without them. Since Germany’s own appeal for raising recruits had proved such a complete fiasco, she knew that the only man who could possibly obtain recruits for them was this very remarkable person. He had great influence with the younger generation and among the working-class, and represented the class of Polish patriotism that was directed against Russia. For these reasons, the Germans considered him essential to their plans, and eventually they succeeded in getting him, without the inclusion in the Council of State of the party for which he had bargained, since the National Democrats absolutely refused to enter it without such rearrangements of seats as would give them and their affiliated groups a predominant vote. Finally also the Jewish element was included in this futile Council, which strengthened the sadly deficient pro-German sympathies of it.

The Council of State opened; von Beseler and Kuk, the Governors of Warsaw and Lublin first spoke, and their joint speech from the throne was replied to by the chairman, Niemojewski, hitherto unknown as a politician. After that no progress of any sort was made, and we learn from Die Post of January 6th, that the principal Polish parties will not co-operate, and this is followed by a lament that in spite of Germany’s exertions on behalf of Poland, Poland will not be her friend. The truth was that the Poles knew very well that this Council of State created by Germany was a sham, constructed and opened merely with the pretence of granting the Constitution which Poland demanded as an essential first step that must be taken before the raising of a national army, which the Poles declared must be an army for the defence of the state, but which Germany designed to fight her own battles. Poland, as a whole, wanted independence and self-government, what it found it had got was a constitution without power, and the privilege of dying for Germany. This was openly asserted by Pilsudski, to whom Germany looked to raise the army, and he announced in the Council that Germany had created the Polish State in order to raise a Polish army for herself.

A semi-official admonishment to the Poles that supplies a significant comment on opinion in Germany appeared in the KÖlnische Zeitung of January 15th, 1917. It remarks that though it is only two months since Poland was liberated, doubts as to the success of this have arisen in Germany. It is necessary for German frontiers to be secured against Russia, on conclusion of peace, but she cannot simply annex Poland. Independent Poland has therefore been created, but the main condition for its success is that it should have a close connection with Germany and her Allies, and its army with the armies of the Quadruple Alliance. The danger lies in the existence of Polish Nationalism which is bound to arouse the spirit of irredentism. The acquisition of German Poland and access to the sea are naturally part of the Polish ideal, but since Germany can never entertain such an idea these aspirations must be given up once and for all. As long as the war lasts, Poland must be content to be in German occupation. Poland can only prosper under German and Austrian protection, and the Poles must see to it that they use their rights in a way corresponding to German interests, for both Germans and Poles know that it was not sheer humanitarianism that called the new state into life, but the consideration of important political interests. The right thing for the Poles to do is to give up, once for all, their irredentist claims on Prussian territory, and stake their lives on a victory of German arms.

Similar exhortations appeared in the Frankfurter Zeitung and the Rheinisch WestfÄlische Zeitung, urging the necessity of holding Poland firmly in German Grip and strengthening the interests of German Kultur.

Now this extract sums up the exact impasse between the “independent” state and its German rulers. Germany insists that the whole well-being of Poland depends on its German orientation—no mention of Austria occurs at all—and that to stand well with Germany it must prove its devotion by the shedding of its blood in the cause of Germany.[19] It has to take Germany on trust, blind, identify itself with German aims, give up all its aspirations, and revel in its independence! For its own peace of mind it had better dismiss once and for all any idea of becoming a united Poland, if by unity is meant a “German solution” implying the joining to it of Posen, in the same way as under an “Austrian solution.” Galicia would have been united to it. But as a counter-attraction to this unrealizable programme we find the Council of State permitted to issue a manifesto declaring that one of its chief tasks is to “extend the independent state-existence to all the territories taken away from Russia, and gravitating towards Poland.” In other words, if Germany was determined not to give back any part of Prussian Poland, she might be induced to promise that some of the Russian territories once belonging to Poland should be reunited to her. This change of subject suited Germany very well; by all means let the Council of State amuse itself by dreams of enlarging Poland at the expense of Russia. That would make bad blood between Poles and Russians, and, according to the German formula, the more bad blood between other countries the better. Professor Romer, the Cracow geographer, joined in the chorus against Russia, conducted by Germany, and produced figures to disprove Russian statistics which gave the Polish population of Lithuania as 1,000,000, whereas he claimed 5,000,000 as inhabitants of it. It is more than possible that the Russian estimate is below the mark, but when we find that Gustav Olechowski, himself a Polish Nationalist, only claims 1,500,000 Poles as inhabiting Lithuania, we must conclude that the Russian estimate is nearer the mark than Professor Romer’s. He seems to have arrived at his calculation by including as Poles all Roman Catholics on the ground of a common religion. The assumption is picturesque, but has nothing to do with fact. Similarly the Polish right to annex Volhynia was put forward on the ground that owing to the emigration of Russians eastwards, the population now was mainly Polish.

These claims and others like them on Russian provinces called forth a protest from the Government at Petrograd and the most violent counterblast from the Lithuanian Nationalists, who declared that the Poles were their worst enemies. It is probable that Germany instigated those Imperialist demands, with the object not only of fomenting ill-feeling between Russia and Poland, in which it perfectly succeeded, but of giving the National Council something to occupy it, so as to distract it from its real business of drafting the Constitution. This succeeded also, and up till March, 1917, the Council, apart from starting schools for officers, seems to have accomplished nothing except to settle what the official seal of the new state was to be, and to approve of the establishment of a Committee of National Contribution, the first aim of which was to raise money for the Polish army.

The parties for complete Polish independence, with the union of territories now belonging to Russia, Austria and Germany, though they were quite incapable of getting independence, grew in numbers and weight during this period. The cynical farce of Polish government, the recruiting of Poles for industrial work in Germany, and their forcible detention there, the measures introduced by Germany for compulsory work for Poles in Posen, the census ordered by Germany for all men in the occupied territories between the ages of 17 and 50, which the Poles construed into a foreshadowing of conscription, the continued refused of Germany to appoint a Regent, were rapidly bringing resentment to a head, and Germany, who had been so successful in inspiring Polish distrust of Russia, was diverting the main flow of suspicion against herself.

Then in March the Russian revolution broke out, and on the 29th of that month the revolutionary Russian Government definitely proclaimed the independence of Poland (which was a very different thing from the meaningless phrases of the Grand Duke’s proclamation) and asked in return for a “free military union” with the country to which it promised liberty. In other words, Russia like Austria and Germany made a bid for the support of a Polish army. To this reiterated promise of independence the Council of State sent a cool reply, congratulating Russia on the liberty that she, too, had regained, but reminding her that the Central Empires had also promised Poland independence. But on the population generally the effect of this Russian proclamation was wildly exciting: Russia, democratic and free, stretched out an equal and fraternal hand, and they vented their enthusiasm in strikes and anti-German disturbances. The Council of State, however, had taken a truer view of the value of the Russian declaration, for the nature of the “free military union” was soon hinted at by the new Russian Government, who elegantly alluded to the fact that there were a very large number of Polish refugees in Russia (there were probably upwards of 1,000,000 of them, of whom 500,000 were between the ages of 17 and 45.)[20] Most of these, up to the age of 37 at any rate, had already enlisted in the Russian armies, and what was aimed at by the “free military union” referred to the time after the war, when Russia hoped, in spite of the independence of Poland, to retain a considerable number of Poles in her military forces.

The disenchantment spread, and before long it was felt that this declaration of independence would probably prove as nugatory as previous Russian declarations. But, in any case, Russia now, in chaos herself, had abandoned all claim to any suzerainty over Poland, and perhaps the most important result of the proclamation was that at this precise moment the National Democratic party, who had previously accepted the Grand Duke Nicholas’s proclamation, which implied the restoration of German and Austrian Poland to a kingdom, independent, but under Russian suzerainty, expanded their aspirations and claimed for the future Kingdom of Poland much of the territory originally belonging to Poland which had passed to Russia in consequence of the partitions.

To quiet the growing disgust with Germany, von Beseler made a journey to Berlin, and returned with the German Government’s consent that a Regent should be established, but (this “but” was a familiar feature in German indulgences) they had not yet arrived at agreement “with regard to the person of the Regent.” This, of course, again postponed the appointment of a Regent sine die, and rendered meaningless the further promise that the Germans were resolved to leave Warsaw as soon as the Regency had been established in such a way that the zones of German and Austrian occupation came under his authority. In other words, though they were resolved to appoint a Regent and thereupon leave Warsaw, they intended to remain in possession because (in spite of their resolve) they could not settle on a Regent. Austria had designated a Habsburg Regent, and Germany a Hohenzollern: the appointment of either would remove Poland too far away from the “sphere” of the other power, and therefore Poland must wait. But this message from Berlin, delivered by von Beseler, is of interest, because it shows that there was still some sort of vitality in the policy of the “Austrian solution,” or, if not vitality, the force of inert resistance. If it could not create, it could veto. Next month (June, 1917), after a further ineffectual protest from the Council of State and a threat of resignation, the German and Austrian Governments both reaffirmed their desire to appoint a Regent. Neither could do it without the consent of the other, and it served the purposes of both to give no effective government to Poland. They agreed, in fact, to differ, since their differing effected the point on which they were perfectly agreed. For the same reason the joint resolution of the Polish Deputies in the Reichsrat and of the Diet of Galicia for Polish unification with access to the sea was the mere tap of a ripple against a stone breakwater. Austria would certainly have granted that at the expense of Germany, but could refer to Germany even as Mr. Spenlow referred to the obduracy of his partner Jorkins. The Central Empires, though they might disagree with each other, were unanimous in disregarding any obligation they had entered into with regard to Poland. Austria would not give way to Germany, nor Germany to Austria, and as far as Poland was concerned, this disagreement postponed any solution of the political impasse. All the time famine was raging in Russian Poland, and also in Lithuania, where the mortality among children was terrible. Yet still parcels of food could be sent to Germany by occupying troops, without deducting from the food-rations of the recipients, and still Germany refused to guarantee—whatever her guarantee might be worth—that foreign relief for the starving Poles should be used for them and not for exportation into Germany.

Trouble was brewing: again in June, 1917, the Council of State passed a resolution that Lithuania should be reunited to Poland, and this was supported by the Inter-Party Club of Warsaw[21] under the leadership of the National Democrats, in conjunction with Realists, Polish Progressives, Christian Democrats, the National Federation and the Union of Economic Independence, for Germany, by her obstinate refusal to give substance to any of her promises, had done nothing more than consolidate Polish parties together against herself. Support was given to the Polish cause by a further declaration of the Allies, for at a meeting of the Polish National Club in Petrograd, M. Albert Thomas announced in the name of the French Government that they desired “unification independence, strength and greatness of Poland, for the Polish question is a European and an international question.” This was in flat contradiction of the declaration of the late Tsar’s Government that the Polish question was an internal Russian question, and was a direct allusion to the importance of Poland as a check to the Mittel-Europa policy of Germany. Neither Russia nor the Central Empires had given substance to the promises they had made, and it was clear that if Polish national aspirations were to be satisfied, it must be the Entente to whom Poland had to look. This revulsion of feeling against the occupying powers led to fresh disturbances that broke out in Warsaw, and to the refusal of the large majority, 85 per cent., of the Polish legions to take any oath of allegiance to the Central Powers. On that the mailed fist descended: the Polish soldiers who had refused to take the oath were sent to internment camps, and Pilsudski, who had been the one hope on whom rested the raising of a Polish army to fight for Germany, was arrested on the charge of conspiracy and imprisoned, upon which the commanders of the Polish legions resigned. Cannons were placed in the streets of Warsaw, thousands of civilians were arrested, and the Governor-General announced that he had authority to burn Warsaw to the ground, in order to show how deeply Germany had at heart the welfare of Poland.

But public opinion in Germany by no means endorsed measures of this kind, which were as unwise as they were tyrannical, and among other papers the Kolnische Volkszeitung deplored German maladministration which had made an enemy of the entire country. The state had been formed too late, no king had been appointed, and it was governed by German Jacks-in-office, who could not speak a word of Polish or French. The fact that this was allowed to pass the Censor is an indication of the general disgust in Germany of the military autocracy as applied to a country which had been promised independence. More than six months had passed since that declaration had been made, and there had as yet been no indication that it was endorsed by the faintest sincerity of purpose. According to her usual policy, Germany had tried to ingratiate herself with the Poles by fomenting their hatred of Russia, but now that tide of suspicion and distrust which she had successfully caused to flow was ebbing strongly back upon herself. Her fair promises had been shown to be shams, and even when she replaced cajolery with tyranny, she was haunted by the sense of imperfect mastery. She had tried to raise an army of volunteers to fight her battles, and had succeeded in getting together but 600 men, and when she made a demand for the forcible recruiting of Poles for the work of munitions and industrial concerns in Germany, the municipality of Warsaw flatly refused to organise any such scheme, and she had been obliged to fall back on a voluntary appeal instead. This proved to be almost as great a fiasco as her attempt to raise troops, and only 2,629 volunteers came forward. Neither by conciliation nor compulsion had she attained her aims, and now, when she had been in occupation for two years, she had not succeeded in making the Poles either her slaves or her friends. They would not willingly fight for her or work for her, and she had failed to compel them. She had not solved the Polish problem, and she was perfectly well aware of that humiliating fact. She had satisfied neither herself nor her recalcitrant dependents.

CHAPTER V

(i) THE POLISH LEGIONS

Of the various factors with had produced this crisis by far the most important from the German standpoint was the utter failure to induce Poland to furnish Germany with an army. The German authorities had tried to raise it themselves and had succeeded in enlisting 600 fit men, when they had hoped to raise between 700,000 and 800,000. But they believed that one man was able to raise this army for them, and this was Pilsudski, whom they had now imprisoned, despairing of success, on the charge of conspiracy. He had not conspired at all: he had but consistently refused to conspire or to exercise the huge moral force which he had in Poland, in the matter of raising an army, unless (as we have seen) that army was intended to be the defence and shield of a Polish independent State, which the German authorities, up till the present time had refused to call into existence, or to grant it a Constitution that was anything more than a swindle. A very brief rÉsumÉ of the history of this remarkable patriot, and of the legions which he had created will help the reader to understand how great was the prestige with which the Germans rightly credited him, and how significant to them were the Polish legions which he had raised at the beginning of the war.

Pilsudski was a Lithuanian Pole, and his father, like himself, was a sturdy Polish patriot. As a student in Petrograd he joined the Socialistic movement, and was deported to Siberia. He came back, having escaped from there, in the early nineties, and leaving Russia, became a founder of the Polish Socialist Party, the first that included the struggle for Polish independence in its programme. He spent some years as an emigrant in London, where he published the organ of the Polish Socialist Party. In 1904 he went to Japan, and, unsuccessfully tried to get the assistance of the Japanese Government in organizing an armed rising in Poland against Russia. He returned from there to Russian Poland, where he was the leader of a revolutionary movement, was again arrested and imprisoned at St. Petersburg. Once more he escaped, and settled in Galicia. After the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1909, when Austria was preparing for war against Russia, he came into contact with the Austrian staff and offered to raise a volunteer legion on their behalf. He began to organize this in 1911, three years before the outbreak of the present war. It consisted mainly of Socialistic emigrants from Russian Poland, many of whom were trained as officers with the help of the Austrian military authorities. When the war broke out, the legion was put on an official basis. Pilsudski was appointed to its command, and both his staff and the rank and file were Polish Socialists, largely young men studying in Galicia, who had come under the influence of Pilsudski’s propaganda, but a considerable number of Austrians joined it also.

As a military leader Pilsudski shewed marked ability; politically, his inspiration was his whole-hearted hatred of the old Russian regime of Tsarism, and thus owing both to his qualities and their defects he could not analyse the peculiar difficulties of the Polish question generally, or see that Germany was just as strong an opponent of Polish liberty as Russia, and infinitely the more insidious. To this patriotic Pole living in territory grabbed by Russia from the ancient Republic, Russia was the obvious enemy. He had no sympathies for any powers either on the side of the Central Empires or on that of the Entente: his only motive was to fight the enemies of Poland. Poland was encircled by foes, and it really mattered little to Pilsudski what segment of that circle he originally “went for,” provided only that he hurled himself, like a wild cat, at something hostile. He appears to have made up his mind, years before the war, that Russia, anyhow, was a foe to his fatherland, and he rated the proclamation of the Grand Duke Nicholas at precisely its proper value. Indeed it might have been of him, as the incarnation of the Polish national spirit, that a Russian, Professor Bierdiayew, said: “The Poles do not want Russian sympathy and friendship, but their own independence.... The Polish question is not and cannot be a Russian problem for them: it is a matter of their own, and at the same time a matter that should concern the whole world.... It is more than obvious that for a Pole the future arrangements for Poland cannot be part of the future arrangements of Russia or Germany or Austria. For them there is no Russian or Austrian orientation. They do not want their freedom as a reward from anybody ... Poland is not in decadence; it is at the height of its vitality and strength.... Poles have no Russian or Austrian orientation, only a Polish one....”

Pilsudski was always ready to take the “best chance” for the independence of Poland (as when in 1904 he went to Japan and offered on behalf of the Socialists to organize an armed rising in Poland against Russia) and thus, since Russia at the outbreak of war was the wrongful holder of Lithuania and Poland, he raised the legions to fight against the most conspicuous opponent of Polish independence. Whatever Power, be it Russian or German, was in possession of Poland, that Power was Pilsudski’s enemy, and he always “went for” his enemy. This undeviating purpose invariably dictated his course.

As such he was the first to lead troops into Russian territory, and at the opening of the war made a skirmishing advance out of Galicia into Russia on the side of the Austrians. He was recalled, as leading an “irregular body,” and in order to regularise that irregular body, the Austrian command found it somehow reasonable to embody him and his legions in their regular army. There they remained till December, 1915, partaking in the Austrian retreat and, subsequently, in its advance. By this time the Germans had taken possession—though largely with Austrian troops—of the territory of the Kingdom of Poland, and had seen the potentiality of Pilsudski in the way of raising a Polish army, consisting not merely of the legions, who were a body of a very few thousand men, but of a Polish force, consisting, so they hoped, not of a few thousand men, but of at least 700,000, to fight in the interests not of Austria nor of Poland, but of Germany. With this in view Germany managed, without detaching the Polish legions from the Austrian army, to include them in the general advance to the Stokhod front in December, 1915. There they served till the late summer of 1916, when Pilsudski, after constant friction with Bernhardi, who was the German commander of that section, suddenly refused to serve there any more, and, by flat mutiny, withdrew on August 28th a number of his troops from the front and marched them back to Warsaw. That there had been friction between him and Bernhardi there was no doubt, but the reason for his withdrawal of himself and his division was a much more honourable and consistent motive: it was in fact his invariable purpose of fighting the most obvious of Poland’s foes that dictated it. For a year now, Germany, and in a minor degree Austria, had been in possession of Poland, and had altogether shelved the question of Polish independence. It was for that alone that Pilsudski cared, and his mutiny was without doubt due to political motives. At any cost he wanted Polish independence, and he transgressed every code of military discipline in order to provoke a political crisis. Just as, when the Russians were in possession of Poland, he fought against the Russians: so now, when the Germans were in possession, he refused to fight against the Russians. But in each case his motive was perfectly clear: he would not support an enemy of Poland, and his action, doubtless, contributed to induce Germany to declare the independence of Poland.

It says volumes for the value which the Germans attached to him and his influence that he was not instantly shot for this mutiny. But they knew perfectly well that if any one could raise a Polish army for them it was Pilsudski, and instead of shooting him, both of the Central Empires tried to make friends with him. In September, 1916, just after his mutiny and retirement with his troops, it was announced from Vienna (Wiener Korrespondenz Bureau) that the Polish legions were going to be transformed into a Polish Auxiliary Corps. So far from being shot as mutinous they were recognised as the cadres of a Polish army, to guard the State which the Central Empires were proposing to create. Instead of having their badges torn off them and being laid in nameless graves they were given a Polish uniform with the ancient Polish badge of the White Eagle. “They will depend,” so ran the official proclamation, “in matters of tactics on the High Command of the armies of the Central Empires, but they will be independent as regards their own organisation, and they will fight in conjunction with the Austro-Hungarian army.”

But until the success of this diplomacy was assured the Central Empires thought it wiser that Pilsudski should be in retirement, and for the next month “for the sake of his health” he was inaccessible at Zeleopane, under the guise of a rest cure. That was all the punishment inflicted on him for the rankest mutiny, and while he was “resting” the Polish legions in October, 1916, passed a resolution to do their duty on behalf of an independent Poland and to stand by Pilsudski. In fact, the nucleus for a Polish army refused to help the Central Empires in any way until they had got their Pilsudski again. Next month, accordingly (November, 1916) he was rested and reappeared. His mutiny had been completely successful: he had forced the Central Empires to promise to let him form an army of the Polish State. But at that point there broke across the common path an unbridgeable chasm, for the Germans wanted a Polish army to help Germany, and Pilsudski never contemplated such a thing. If he was to raise a Polish army, that army would be raised for Poland and Poland alone.

On the eve (literally the eve) of the German and Austrian declaration of the “State of Poland,” Pilsudski declared in favour of the breaking up of the Polish legions, and of the using of them as cadres for the formation of a Polish army. He professed himself able to raise an army of 700,000 men, but this would depend on the nature of the imminent declaration of independence. Here again, now that Germany and Austria were in possession of Poland, he was “up against” the occupying Powers, for they on their side declared that Poland must prove herself worthy of independence, by shedding her blood on behalf of Germany. The legions by the mouth of Pilsudski refused to do anything of the kind. But still Pilsudski was neither interned nor arrested nor shot. The Central Empires considered him as their most valuable asset as a recruiter, if they could only get him to see “eye to eye” with them.

They continued to work at their impracticable project, and in December, 1916, declared Pilsudski as the organiser of the new army, in conjunction with Sikorski, a Polish Colonel who was much more amenable to sweet German influence than his coadjutor. A great inauguration ceremony for the new army was arranged, and on its being handed over at Warsaw in April, 1917, to the Governor, General von Beseler as cadres for the new Polish army, von Beseler addressed the troops in the most gratifying terms. He said:—

Now these were very “handsome expressions” considering that the last act of the Polish legions was to march away without permission from the front at Stokhod, and again this emphasises the enormous importance that Germany attached to the power of Pilsudski. After this warm welcome the ill-starred von Beseler drew up a “Flagoath” for the legions and attempted to administer it. By the proposed flag-oath, the Polish soldiers had to swear allegiance, on the Polish colours, to the German Kaiser, their Commander-in-chief, and to the Monarchs of the two Central powers as guarantors of the independent Polish state. This is interesting, as it shows that the German orientation had for the present extinguished the Austrian, but from the point of view of the Central Empires it was uninteresting, since Pilsudski and his legions refused by an enormous majority to take any such oath. They were not prepared to promise anything of the sort.

It must be borne in mind, that when the Polish legions were taken over to form the nucleus for an army, they were absolutely unimportant in point of actual numbers. They consisted at this time of three full brigades, i. e. six regiments of infantry, with nine batteries of 8 cm. quick-firing guns, one regiment of cavalry, and complete equipment of wireless, ambulance, doctors, etc. But Germany, quite correctly, saw in them the potentiality of a much larger force. If they, and in especial if their creater Pilsudski, could be brought to see themselves “as others saw them,” Germany would get her projected army of 700,000 to 800,000 men fighting for her. But again the insuperable difficulty was Pilsudski: he had declared himself capable of raising, and without doubt could have raised such a force, but (here was the German “but” turned against its originators) there had first to exist a Polish independent state on whose behalf this army was to be raised. Given a satisfactory solution of the Polish question, in other words the creation of a real and independent Poland, Pilsudski would and could have equipped it with a suitable army, for defensive and perhaps offensive purposes of its own. But he was not going to raise, nor were his countrymen going to form part of an army to be used by Germany for her own ends. Then in March, 1917, came the Russian revolution, and to Pilsudski’s frank and filibustering mind, the new Russia, since it too was revolutionary and the foe of tyrants, became his spiritual brother, and when the offer was made him to command the Polish army in Russia he did not refuse it, though I cannot find that he accepted it. Upon which, the German authorities, at last despairing of getting him to throw himself into German schemes arrested him for conspiracy. His last public declaration was that Germany had created a Polish state in order to raise a Polish army for herself. He was perfectly right, and if he had said that she had created a sham state in order to raise a real army, he would have been righter still.

By August, 1917, the Provisional Council of State had ceased to be in any way representative of the Polish nation, for Pilsudski’s party which contained all that was truly national in Poland no longer took any part in it. Fresh riots occurred in Warsaw owing to his imprisonment, and another impotent attempt was made on the part of Germany to induce the Polish legions to take the oath of “fraternity of arms” with the Central Powers. Feeling ran equally high in Galicia over Pilsudski’s arrest, and in order to justify it von Beseler published the reasons for his imprisonment. These were:

The publication of this did not have the effect of calming public feeling, it only enshrined Pilsudski in the hearts of patriots. Then, since it did not serve its purpose, Germany resorted to directer measures of repression, and immediately afterwards she announced that the Polish auxiliary corps, instead of preserving the slightest appearance of independence, as the nucleus for a national force, should be placed under Austrian command. The effect of this was that the National Council resigned in a body.

(ii) Further “Independence” of Poland

Chaos was now complete, and probably Germany intended that, for she was intending to “scrap” the constitution which she has proclaimed nearly a year before, since it had not produced for her that for which she had granted it, namely an army to fight her battles. In this year she had but succeeded in fusing the whole Polish population of the occupied territory into enmity against her, and since they now declared foes, she proceeded to treat them as such. She had openly become a tyrant over a conquered people: she had imprisoned the man who voiced national sentiment, she had tried to raise troops of another nation to fight for her, and now she proceeded to any sort of petty tyranny that suited her convenience. She demanded that German schools in Poland, the management of which had in April been entrusted to Poles, should now be directly controlled from Berlin, in spite of her having given matters dealing with education and justice into the care of the Council of State, she closed Polish schools and opened new German ones. All matters connected with education and administration of justice were, for the future, to be dictated by German military control, and she ordained that the Governor-General might demand re-examination of the legitimacy of decisions in law-courts (so that if an anti-German verdict was returned, it could be revised); she reserved also to the Governor-General the right of approval or reversal of any measures passed by the country’s representatives, in so far as they affected “war-conditions,” and again banished or imprisoned Polish students. Finally she directly threatened to annex such part of Poland as she needed for rectification of her frontier, leaving Austria to annex the remainder. The immediate effect of this would be to render all Poles liable to military service either with her or with Austria. As a protest against this which was a frank and open repartition of the Poland she had declared independent, the Austrian Polish Socialists, the peasant party and the National Democrats in the Reichsrat formed a bloc to demand an independent Poland with access to the sea. Austria remonstrated with her partner, and together they settled to drop the final adjustment of Poland, at any rate till the end of the war, scrapped the declaration of November 5th, 1916, and proceeded to announce a new system of government. This was not done without strong and expressed warnings from Germany itself, and among others Prince Lichnowsky declared in the Berliner Tageblatt that the Polish question constituted for Germany the gravest question of the war, far, graver than that of Belgium or Alsace, and that she was playing with it in the manner of a child with a toy that would not work. He was quite right, for while Germany by these tyrannies was acquiring material advantages for the Mittel-Europa policy in the way of expansion Eastwards, she was also building up against that expansion a solid wall of hate and antagonism.

The patent for this new constitution appeared in the middle of September, 1917, and appointed:

The names of the Regency Council appeared by the end of the month, and consisted of Prince Lubomirski, Archbishop Kakowski and M. Ostrowski. These were to hold office until the appointment of a Regent was made, and since they were appointed by the Central Empires, and in turn appointed a Premier, it can be conjectured that Poland was not intended to gain much measure of true autonomy, for Germany’s hand was still on the throttle, to prevent any real development of horse-power.

Of the three, Prince Lubomirski is the predominant personality: He is a very able man, aristocratic and of Liberal tendencies. He has enjoyed considerable popularity since the occupation of the country, first as chairman of the Citizens’ Committee, and as President of Warsaw, and throughout has shewn great firmness and dignity in his dealings with the German authorities. M. Ostrowski is a wealthy landowner, who has worked with the group of Polish conservatives for a reconciliation with Russia. He has had more political experience than Lubomirski but lacks his ability, and is the victim of a strange nervous disease that causes him to fall asleep for several weeks at a time. His power of application to business therefore, is not particularly valuable to anybody. Archbishop Kakowski is a man of common-sense but of narrow horizons who has no qualifications for a post of political authority. His appointment, as a Roman Catholic prelate, is chiefly interesting as an indication of a certain swaying of the balance again towards an Austrian solution which presently became a more pronounced movement. For some weeks after the appointment of this Council the post of the Prime Minister was vacant, for the Germans vetoed Count Tarnowski, the Austrian candidate, and it was not until the middle of November that M. Jan Kucharzewski was appointed, a man of ability and honesty but without much strength or decision, and a student of history rather than a maker of it.

The swing of the pendulum, indicated by the personnel of the Regency council, towards some form of Austrian solution soon grew more marked, and it was understood that the Crown Council held in Berlin in November favoured the idea of the union of Poland and Galicia under the Emperor of Austria, while by way of adjusting the balance Courland and Lithuania would be annexed by Germany. But though this scheme would be manifestly to the advantage of Germany, since German influence would increase in the Reichsrat now that Polish deputies would no longer sit there but in the Diet of their new state, there were two vital objections to it which aroused the opposition of the entire German press. One was that such annexation was definitely contradictory to the “no-annexation” doctrine officially proposed, the other that to take over Lithuania and Courland would be to incur the bitter and lasting enmity of Russia. Russia might be at present an almost non-existent factor in international politics (and was soon to advance nearer vanishing point) but no sane politician could base his schemes on the impossible premise of her total and permanent extinction. A third objection, one, however, to which Germany attached no weight whatever, was that the Little Russians (Ukrainians) who formed by far the largest national body in East Galicia would fight to the last gasp before being united with, and governed by a Polish state. Indeed this consideration, so far from being an objection in Germany’s view, constituted an argument in favour of this arrangement, since there would thus be bitter hostility between Ukrainians and Poles. Meantime the Polish Club in Vienna were strongly in favour of the Austrian solution, and it had many adherents among the Conservative Poles of Galicia, while Count Julius Audrassy writing semi-officially in the Fremden Blatt in December, 1917, declared for it saying that Posen was inalienable from Germany, but that Galicia formed a natural adjunct to the Kingdom of Poland. Equally significant as to the fact that some form of “Austrian solution” though often rejected by Germany, was on the tapis again, was that Kucharzewski speaking of the reception of the Regency Council by the Emperor of Austria, in January, 1918, said that the union of Galicia and Poland was a heart-felt desire of the whole Polish nation. This statement followed immediately on a visit he had paid to Berlin, and was, if not authorized, allowed to remain uncontradicted.

There were certainly more elements in this new constitution of a self-governing state than in any which Germany had yet permitted to take shape. Hitherto her main use for Poland had been that Poland should supply her with an army against Russia, and up till now she had declared that Poland must establish her claim for independence by shedding her blood for Germany. But now, in the swift disintegration of Russia there was no longer any need for a Germano-Polish army, and so she could be advanced a step towards independence and create an army for herself. Germany by no means wished to have a rebellious and discontented province in her sphere of occupation, though in days gone by, she would sooner have been supplied with such an army as Pilsudski could have raised for her than satisfy the aspirations of the Poles. But now at last she consented, as an experiment, to Poland devoting herself to her own coherence and stability, when suddenly all was turmoil again, and the rights and territorial integrity granted to Poland were violated more wantonly than ever before. For in February, 1918, there took place the peace-negotiations with Russia at Brest-Litovsk in which Poland claimed a voice, which was not granted her, and the Polish government thereupon stated that no agreement bearing on Poland’s fate or prejudicing her rights would be accepted by the nation as legally binding. Then followed the Ukrainian peace, which sheared off the entire Government of Cholm, hitherto Polish, and gave it to the Ukraine, thereby making a fresh partition which went a step further than even the Congress of Vienna had done, for it cut off 10,000 square miles of territory from the Kingdom of Poland (by way of granting it independence) and created, if it was allowed to stand, a lasting fratricidal contest between Poland and the Ukraine.

The Austrian Poles retorted by a vigorous and successful move, supported by the Czechs, who opposed a treaty which sowed discord between Slav peoples. The whole of the Polish Club in the Reichsrat under Baron von Goetz went over to the opposition and threatened to vote not only against the Budget, but against the Provisional budget about to be laid before the House; they also issued a unanimous manifesto demanding the presence of Polish representatives in the negotiations at Brest-Litovsk, while in Poland itself the whole Polish Cabinet with Kuckarzewski resigned. In the Reichsrat Glombinski, a Polish deputy, asserted the proclaimed independence of Poland and its right, as independent, to make its treaties, when they concerned its frontiers, with any other country, while Goluckowski read a similar manifesto in the upper house. Similarly M. Daszynski, a Polish Member of the Reichsrat, issued an appeal to Austrian Poles on February 18th, saying:

“The soil of Cholm and Podlasie has belonged to Poland for centuries; both territories are Poland’s children, consecrated by the blood of her martyrdom.... Now it seems that this land is to serve as a bridge for German soldiers and goods on their march to Eastern Europe, to the Black Sea and the Caucasus. And the Poles, bereft of every individual connection with the East, are to be plunged into deadly conflict with the Ukraine.”