Part 4

We may say that the conditions in Russia were no worse than in France or Germany. This is doubtless true, but there is this difference: the people of France and Germany had confidence in their leaders and realized that they were doing the best that they could, while the Russians knew they could put no trust in their Government, that the suffering was unnecessary and was due to corruption, favoritism, and incompetency. The Russians have as much patriotism and patience as any other people, but when they saw themselves abused and imposed upon they had a right to complain.

In addition to the criticism of the Government the other favorite topic of conversation was the revolution that would come after the war. This was discussed as openly as the problems of war; the two were bound up together, first a successful ending of the war, and then a change in government.

This public denunciation and open discussion of a coup d'etat came as a shock to me, for I remembered quite vividly how the same people cheered the Emperor when he declared war. Three years ago no one would have dared to talk like that. To be sure enough was said then of the desirability of a more liberal government, but it was a far-off question, one that the next generation might have to deal with. Now the talk was of an overturn immediately after the war.

The court circle was not ignorant of what was being said for the spies kept them fully informed. In conversation with a journalist two months before the outbreak of the revolution, the Minister of the Interior, Protopopov, a protege of Rasputin, said that he was aware of the revolutionary propaganda and that he was ready to face any attempt that might be made to overthrow the government.

"I will not stop at anything," he remarked,... "the first thing that I shall do is to send them [revolutionaries] from the capital by the car loads. But I will strangle the revolution no matter what the cost may be." [FN: Novoe Vremia, March 19-April 1, 1917.] He had no doubt that he could handle the situation and he inspired those about him with the same confidence, particularly the Emperor whom he assured that the discontent was confined chiefly to the intelligentsia and to a small number of the gentry, and that the common people and the army were devoted to the autocracy.

To the question that arises why the revolution, which was expected after the war, came off before its conclusion, the answer is that the present revolution was not planned nor desired by any one of importance; it came as a surprise to all. It just happened. If some one must have the credit or blame, it is Protopopov who was at the time suspected of being queer mentally and who has since lost his reason entirely. He was so sure of himself and of his ability to put down the uprising and thereby show himself a real statesman that he concluded not to wait for the revolution to come in the ordinary course of events, but to hurry it a bit. Although there is no conclusive proof for this statement, there is plenty of convincing circumstantial evidence. We know that it was proposed to have the workmen of Petrograd strike on February 27, the day of the opening of the Duma, as a protest against the government; we know also that to meet this situation, the Minister of the Interior had placed machine guns in the garrets, in steeples, on housetops, and other such places where they could command the important streets and shoot down the mob. The rising did not take place because Miliukov, the great liberal leader, learned that the Government was behind this move and that preparations had been made to slaughter the unsuspecting workmen. He, therefore, addressed them in an open letter calling on them not to make any demonstration, and they did not. For the time being the strike was off, but the air was full of discontent and restlessness, and it was difficult to say when trouble would break out again. With this in view, a number of representatives of various organizations met to discuss the situation and to determine what attitude they should take and what counsel they should give to the labor leaders. Miliukov and a few others urged that all uprisings should be discouraged because they would interfere with the war, would cost the lives of many innocent persons, and would accomplish nothing. There were, however, others, especially Anisimov, who argued strongly in favor of a strike, saying that this was the opportune time to overthrow the present regime and to establish a democratic government.[FN: I have this story from Miliukov.] When the revolution came off and the papers of the secret police were seized, it was discovered that Anisimov, who urged the revolt, was the paid agent of the Government and was doubtless doing its bidding. This shows that the Government instigated and abetted the uprising. But this is not all the evidence. Between February 27 and the outbreak of the revolution men impersonating Miliukov went to the factories, calling on the workmen to rise against the Government.[FN: I have this story from Miliukov.] There is still another bit of evidence. In order to give the laboring classes cause for revolt, the food supply in the factory districts was reduced and many people suffered from hunger and in their desperation came out into the streets. During the revolutionary week little, if any, food came in, but immediately after it the soldiers found 250,000 "puds" of flour, [FN: Russkaia Svoboda, 1917. No. 3, p. 24.] enough to last Petrograd ten days, meat, besides other food hidden in police stations and elsewhere out of reach of the public. It has been said that the Government instigated the uprising in order to bring about a separate peace with Germany. No direct proof has as yet been produced to substantiate this charge, and the only testimony that I have bearing on this case is the statement made by commander-in-chief Alexeiev in a confidential interview with a journalist already quoted. [FN: There is not the least bit of evidence to show that the Emperor himself was mixed up in these intrigues. Among the papers of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs there is but one document that throws any light on the question of a separate peace during the time of the monarchy. It is a letter from the minister of the German Court to the minister of the Russian Court insinuating a separate peace. This letter was shown, as was intended, to the Tsar, who read it, put it aside, and did not answer it. This, however, does not mean that Sturmer, Protopopov and the clique of the Empress were not planning to bring about a situation which would compel a separate peace.]

These four points--the encouragement of a revolt by the secret agents, the impersonation of Miliukov, the concealment of food in the factory districts, the desire of a separate peace with Germany--make out a fairly good case to show that the Government was behind the disturbance. Aside from the reason already given for the desire of a separate peace, the other reason for the action of the ministry was this: It feared that the revolutionary movement, if permitted to take its natural course, would develop such strength that it could not be put down when it broke out, and, therefore, the Minister of the Interior decided to take it in hand and at the right moment crush it with such force that it would be a long time before it could raise its head again. Before it was over he hoped to drag in prominent members of the Duma (or the Duma itself) and other revolutionary leaders, and make an end of them. This plan need not astonish us, for this method, in one form or another, had been made use of by the autocracy time and again. Protopopov overreached himself, his scheme miscarried, the soldiers about the capital went back on him, and the little comedy that he had staged in which he was to play the leading part became a tragedy and the shot which was intended for the revolution hit his royal master and brought autocracy to the ground. In view of the fact that Protopopov has since become insane, one wonders whether the man was mentally well balanced at the time that he was in office. But the Tsar has only himself to blame for his plight; he was warned against this nominee of Rasputin, but he would not take advice.

Early in the week of March 5-12, 1917, the trouble began in the factory districts. There were bread riots, car stoning, window smashing, and other such acts, which are more or less common and no one paid much attention to them. On Thursday, the disturbances spread to other parts of the city and crowds began to gather on the Nevski, but the throng was orderly and the police seemed to have little difficulty in keeping it on the move. Friday the crowd was more bold: it marched up and down the streets, calling for bread, singing revolutionary songs, and occasionally waving a red flag and quickly snatching it back again. This, too, did not make much impression for it is well known that in Russia strikes and disturbances have in view political as well as economic betterment. Late Friday afternoon, while I was walking on the Nevski, a company of mounted police and a large number of Cossacks dashed by on the way to disperse a procession that was coming towards me. When I came up to the Fontanka Bridge I noticed the crowd was gathered about the Cossacks; it patted the horses and cheered their riders, while the police were nowhere in sight. I listened to what was being said and heard that the police tried to use their whips and swords on the people and this angered the Cossacks so much that they attacked the police, killed the captain, and drove them all away. It was no secret that there was bad blood between the soldiers and the police; the former complained that while they were suffering and fighting at the front, the latter were having an easy time, enriching themselves by graft, and oppressing the soldiers' families. The soldiers and the strikers started out with one idea--hatred of the police. When the police had been dispersed, the Cossacks and soldiers begged the people to move on, but they, especially the young women students who were numerous, went up to them and pleaded with them to espouse their cause. "Comrades," they would say, "come over on our side, our cause is your cause." The rough, ignorant warriors were disturbed; they did not like their jobs, and in a kindly way begged the men and women to go home, but, as it did no good, for they massed again, the Cossacks rode in a body into their midst and kept turning and turning until the crowd was forced from the street onto the sidewalk. In the meantime, another company of Cossacks formed a line across the street, from wall to wall, and swept everybody before it into stores, courtyards, and other openings. Even this did not do much good, for as soon as the horsemen passed, the mob fell in behind and cheered the Cossacks. There was no roughness, but at the same time it was easy to see that the crowd did not yet know to what extent the army could be trusted.

By Saturday the inhabitants of the city began to feel the effect of the disorder; cars were not running, telephones were barely working, factories and shops were closed, banks and stores were locked, there was little to eat, for the only provision on hand was water; every one who could filled the tubs for fear the water mains would be blown up. The crowd on the streets was larger than ever, more red flags were in evidence, but all this failed to give the impression of a revolution. Such demonstrations had been seen before; revolutionary talk was cheap and was not taken seriously. As on the day before, the soldiers and Cossacks tried by gentle means to disperse the crowd, but failed, for the men and women in the crowd complained that they were hungry and pleaded with the military for the sake of their own families to stand by the people. It was easy to see that these guardians of the peace were in trouble, they knew that every word said was true, and what was more to the purpose, members of their own families were in the crowd. An officer who was sent with his company to shoot on the people told how that same morning his own sister took part in the demonstration and called for bread for her children. This was no exceptional case. But as soldiers they must do their duty and keep order. Realizing that the stratagems of the day before failed in their purpose, the Cossacks tried other tactics on this day. They fell behind the procession, and discharged their pistols in the air and dashed at full speed into the mob. Woe unto him who did not get out of the way. But they all did; in a second there was not a person on the street. It is still a wonder how it was all done so quickly. As soon as the horsemen passed, the crowd dropped behind them and raising their hats cheered them. "Comrades," they said, "come over to us, you know that the government is bad, you know how the soldiers have been killed through its incompetency, you know that our wives and children are hungry," and more such pleas. The Cossacks and the other soldiers who tried to keep order were caught, they begged the crowd to break up and go home, they pointed out that they had to do their duty and that somebody might get hurt. It was reported that in some places the soldiers did fire and kill several persons. During Saturday, men were sent, it is not clear by whom, to the different factories to persuade the workers to join in a great demonstration on Sunday. The military commander of the city telegraphed to the Emperor for orders and the latter sent word to shoot, if necessary, and to put down the uprising at any cost, and that accounts for the posters that were put up on Sunday morning warning the inhabitants not to gather in the streets because the soldiers would shoot to kill. This had happened before and was no joke, and many people would not leave their homes that day. Those who did had to walk; there was no other way of getting about. Few people, on the whole, were on the street that morning aside from the soldiers and Cossacks who were guarding the bridges and keeping an eye out for disturbances. After luncheon I started to make a call and as I passed the barracks of the Volynski regiment, situated near where I lived, I saw a company of soldiers lined up, heard the command to load, to shoulder arms, to march, and off they went to the Nevski. I followed them for a distance and then turned aside and went my way. In returning I had to cross the Nevski and found that all avenues thither were guarded and that no one was allowed to go in that direction. I managed, however, by showing my American passport, to get through the line and reach the street. Excited people were moving up and down and from them I learned that about three o'clock a number of people forced their way to the Nevski and were fired upon by the soldiers and the machine guns that were concealed. Among the killed of the day was a captain of police who was knocked down by a Cossack.

Sunday night was full of excitement and fear and there were not many who slept soundly. Firing was heard at different times but what it portended, none of us could tell. It became evident that the situation was becoming serious, yet we all felt that the Government could handle it. When I went out on the street Monday morning, the first thing I saw was the placard of the military commander announcing that unless the workmen went to the shops, they would be sent to the front the following day. Groups of people were talking excitedly and from them I learned that the Volynski regiment had revolted and had killed its officers, because the day before they had commanded the soldiers to shoot on the people. It seems that the soldiers returned home much excited over their deed and full of remorse. In the course of the night some of the revolutionary soldiers from the city upbraided them and they were greatly incensed with their officers and the Government. They, as well as other regiments, were particularly worked up over the report that hirelings of the secret police dressed in soldiers' uniforms went about firing on the crowd and that the new recruits, under penalty of death, were commanded to shoot on the people in the streets. When in the morning the officers congratulated the men on their deed of yesterday, they jumped on them and murdered them. I heard that other regiments had also revolted; but there were so many rumors afloat that it was not easy to know what to believe. About four in the afternoon, I started for home and found the Nevski full of frightened and nervous people, and hardly any soldiers. No one seemed to know what to expect. Sounds of shooting were heard and they were explained as the battle between the regiments that had revolted and those that had remained loyal. In the distance columns of smoke were seen and report had it that palaces were burning. Again it was difficult to know the truth. As I proceeded on my way, I was joined by the little minister of the British American Church, where I had attended services the day before, where he had prayed fervently for the Tsar and his family and asked God to put down the anarchists, and other lawless men. We were discussing the situation, not knowing exactly what to make of it. Perhaps the word revolution passed our lips but neither of us nor those about us took it seriously. Near the Liteiny a gate opened and about two dozen armed soldiers led by a petty officer stepped out and marched towards the center of the street. Immediately the crowd, excited and scared, scattered and ran for their lives but the soldiers motioned for them to stop and told them that they would not shoot. We left them, and proceeded on our way, trying as before to interpret what we saw. While in the midst of our discussion we were struck by a new and unfamiliar sound--tra-ta-ta, tra-ta-ta, and we instinctively knew that a machine gun was firing. In a flash the streets were cleared and my minister and I found ourselves sticking like posters against the wall. It was my first "baptism of fire" and I had enough presence of mind to observe its effect upon myself and others. Physically there was no effect for no one seemed hit. I tried to locate the gun and the man behind it, but did not succeed. When the firing ceased, I went on my way. As I neared the Nicholas station, there came rushing forth from around the corner a crowd of hoodlums and soldiers, with drawn swords, which they had taken from the officers, and such other weapons as they could pick up, shouting, "Down with the Government!" Then it dawned upon me that the revolution was on in earnest, that the anarchists of yesterday's prayer had become the heroes of a great cause. What struck me most of all was the kind of men and women who made this world event. I watched them during the week, and they seemed to be in great part boys and girls, hoodlums, students, poorly dressed men and women, without organization, plans, or leaders. It is difficult to analyze the various motives that brought them out into the street. Not one of the so-called revolutionists was seen, heard, shot, or wounded. When it was all over they appeared on the scene, rushing from Switzerland, the United States, France, and other parts of the world, to make speeches and to divide the spoils. It was a revolution without revolutionists, unless you call the soldiers that, but they were not consciously making a revolution, and when it was done, they were thoroughly surprised and frightened. There are a number of reasons why the Government collapsed so easily. It was not really overthrown but it toppled over like a rotten tree, and until it fell, the people did not realize how decayed it actually was. Its misconduct of the war, scandals like that of Rasputin, ministers such as Protopopov discredited and disgraced the dynasty and when the end came, it had few friends who shed tears.

Another important factor in helping the revolution was the large number of students and liberals who served in the army. To fill the ranks and to provide educated men for officers, it was necessary to call on university students, experts in various fields of engineering, all of whom, more or less, desired a liberal government. These men worked among the soldiers and officers with a view to creating a feeling of distrust in the Emperor, and the Government, and its incompetence and corruption gave plenty of material for the propagandists. Loyalty to the dynasty was undermined and as soon as one prop was removed, as soon as one company of soldiers went over, the others followed and the whole edifice came tumbling down.

Still another factor was the large number of new recruits that were stationed in the capital; they were as yet not well disciplined, obedience had not yet become a second nature to them. Many of them had come from the factories, some of them were personally acquainted with the men and women who were in the demonstrations and therefore would not fire on them. Had there been at the time in the city three or four old and well-disciplined regiments, or had the Cossacks who were on hand not interfered with the police, the uprising would have been crushed quickly and effectively as similar affairs had been before.

Yet one other factor contributed to the success of the revolution and that was the over-confidence of the Government. The soldiers had been loyal until now and it never occurred to those in power that they might not always be so. They made no special preparations other than placing machine guns on roofs. They did not even make use of the armored cars. When they realized that the army in the city could not be trusted, they called for troops from the front but they came too late.

From the point of view of the monarchy it was unfortunate that Protopopov sent the Emperor to the front after having secured from him a signed blank to dismiss the Duma; for if the Tsar had been at Tsarskoe Selo, he might have been prevailed upon to make some concessions and saved the dynasty for a time at least.

By Tuesday morning, March 13, the revolution was generally accepted as a fait accompli; it was believed that the old despotism was gone never to return. This was followed by an outburst of idealism and patriotism such as comes but once or twice in the life of a nation. Every Russian was bubbling over with enthusiasm over the glorious future of his country. Liberty so greatly desired, so long worked for, so much suffered for had at last come. The intelligent and persecuted Russians, they who had spent years under the shadow of the police, in prison, in exile, and in Siberia, had their day at last and they were eager to realize their Utopia. Their first demand was that all prison doors should be opened and that the oppressed the world over should be freed. The Russian Revolution was not a class revolution, it was brought about neither by the proletariat nor by the bourgeoisie and the aristocracy; all classes contributed, it was a national revolution. So worthless had the monarchy become that all the people were glad to get rid of it and see it go. They who helped to bring about its ruin were the first to deny it and seek safety; and even the Synod, in an almost unseemly haste, took out the names of the imperial family from the prayer book.

The revolution was picturesque and full of color. Nearly every morning one could see regiment after regiment, soldiers, Cossacks, and sailors, with their regimental colors, and bands, and revolutionary flags, marching to the Duma to take the new oath of allegiance. They were cheered, they were blessed, handerchiefs were waved, hats were raised, cigarettes were distributed as mark of appreciation and gratitude to these men, without whose help there would have been no revolution. The enthusiasm became so contagious that men and women, young and old, high and low, fell in alongside or behind, joined in the singing of the Marseillaise, and walked to the Duma to take the oath of allegiance and having taken it they felt as purified as if they had partaken of the communion. Another picturesque sight was the army trucks filled with armed soldiers, red handkerchiefs tied to their bayonets, dashing up and down the streets, ostensibly for the purpose of protecting the citizens but really for the mere joy of riding about and being cheered. One of these trucks stands out vividly in my mind: it contained about twenty soldiers, having in their midst a beautiful young woman with a red banner, and a young hoodlum astride the engine, a cigarette in one hand and a sword in the other. The streets were full of people, or "tovarishchi" (comrades), as they called one another, not only the sidewalks but in the very center, for the tramways were not running. Great events were transpiring and every one who could came out to hear and to see what was going on. There were no newspapers and the street was the news center. Automobiles came dashing through scattering proclamations and copies of the Izvestiia (a news-sheet published by a committee of newspaper men with the authority of the Duma); and as the crowd made a rush to pick these up it looked for a moment as if the whole world was walking on its head and feet at the same time. Those who were fortunate enough to seize a paper ran home with it to read it to the family, those who were not gathered around one of the many bonfires, made from the wooden imperial eagles, crowns, and other insignia of royalty, to listen to the reading of the news, usually by a student. The part played by the students during the revolution has not received the attention it deserves. When all others were hiding or excited it was the students who took charge of the leaderless soldiers, found food for them, collected money for their welfare, and told them what to do. It was interesting to watch with what deference the soldiers looked up to them and hung upon their words. This importance was not wholly lost upon the students, both men and women, and they read the proclamations as if they were tablets of law handed down from heaven. After the reading came the discussion. One of the favorite topics was the comparative bloodlessness of the revolution (something like 169 killed and 1264 wounded) which proved that the Russian Revolution was superior to the French or any other. Having started in this vein the discussion turned on the mighty and noble deeds Russia was going to do now. Just as it once freed Europe from the yoke of Napoleon so will it now liberate her from the militarism and barbarism of William and give freedom to all the world, to all nationalities, races, and creeds. The light of the world is to come from Russia. The crowd meant it. The soldiers were in earnest and patriotic--the praise showered upon them and the responsibility placed upon them seemed to uplift them--the man with the hoe became a free citizen and behaved as such. On Wednesday, March 14, the soldiers posted bulletins in different parts of the city calling on their comrades to abstain from liquor and violence and to prevent others from committing lawless deeds. Not satisfied with mere words small companies of militia visited the places where drinks were sold and emptied the barrels and bottles into the gutter. For days the Astoria Hotel looked and smelled like a wrecked saloon after Carrie Nation and her associates had stoned it.

For some time the whereabouts and intentions of the Tsar were unknown and numerous rumors were afloat. Some said that he had committed suicide, that he was in the city, that he was on the way, that he was under arrest, that he had fled the country. Another interesting question was the form of the new government, should it be a republic or a constitutional monarchy. Many of the educated classes and members of the Duma advocated a constitutional monarchy of the English type, while others, particularly the socialistic groups, favored a republic, a democratic republic; whatever they meant by that is not clear. Needless to say the great mass of people did not know the difference between one kind of government and another but they shouted as loudly as those who knew. One soldier demanded a republic like that of England, another insisted on a republic with a tsar at the head, the wife of the porter of the house where I lived cried as if her heart would break because "they wanted a republic," and some of the peasant women in the country clamored for the tsar because "if they take away the tsar they will also take away God and what will then become of the muzhik." In one place at the front several regiments almost came to blows over this question. An orator ended his eloquent speech by saying that "from now on Russia will have but one monarch, the revolutionary proletariat." This phrase puzzled the soldiers, they also misunderstood the word "monarch" which they thought to be "monakh" (monk). They therefore concluded that it was planned to put a monk on the throne, and an argument arose whether they would have a monk or not. Some were in favor and others opposed. By the time it got to the next regiment the question was whether they would have the monk Iliodor as their ruler. It was no longer a question whether Russia was to have a tsar but whether the tsar should be a monk or not, and whether it should be Iliodor or some other one.

Strange to say, as evening came a kind of fear seized the population, particularly the more ignorant. It was difficult for them to shake off the terror of the old police; all the time that they were talking against the tsar they had a feeling that they were doing wrong, and that some one was denouncing them. It was hard for them to believe that all that they saw and heard during the day was real and that the old regime was powerless. Some one would start a rumor that a monarchist general with an army was marching on the city and that he would kill and burn. Early Friday evening, March 16, as I was walking down the street, soldiers ran by me shouting for every one to get under cover for several hundred police from Tsarskoe Selo were coming and that there would be street fighting. Frightened mothers grabbed their little ones and hurried home, storekeepers closed the shops, porters barricaded the gates, housewives extinguished the lights, and the streets became as dark and as silent as a cemetery. This lasted for an hour or more and then came more soldiers announcing that all was well, that the supposed policemen were revolutionary soldiers who had come to take the oath of allegiance.

The exultation reached its highest point when the first temporary government, with Prince Lvov at the head, was announced. Every one was pleased with the men selected, they were without doubt the ablest leaders of the country, men who had always fought for the cause of liberty and for the interests of the public. There was nothing but praise for them and assurances of support. The fact that there was a "pravitelstvo" (government) calmed the people and they gradually went back to their old occupations, but as new men, with broader outlooks and with higher aspirations.

The taking of the oath of office by the new Ministry was the last act of that wonderful week to be unanimously approved by the people. When the temporary government attempted to govern it was interfered with by the Council of Workmen's and Soldiers' Deputies; the cry was raised by the Socialist groups that it was they who had won the revolution and that they, therefore, should have all the power. Since then the country has become more and more divided against itself, love has turned into hate, joy into sorrow.

THE JUGO-SLAV MOVEMENT

By Robert J. Keener

If there are miracles in history, the Jugo-Slav movement is a miracle. It is the story of a nation which entered its new home in the Balkans in the seventh century and became divided geographically and politically, in faith and written language, and in economic and social life, until at last its spokesmen could truthfully say that it was divided into thirteen separate administrative units dependent upon fifteen legislative bodies. [FN: In 1915 the Slovenes inhabiting Carniola, Carinthia, Styria, Istria, and Goerz-Gradisca, and the Serbo-Croats of Istria and Dalmatia, were under the direct rule of Austria. Trieste and its district were a part of Austria. The Serbs of Hungary belonged to Hungary proper for the most part; the Croats by a fundamental agreement were entitled to autonomy in Croatia. Fiume, the seaport of Croatia and Hungary, had an administration of its own. Bosnia-Herzegovina possessed a diet and was under the dual rule of Austria and Hungary. All the provinces or districts mentioned above were governed by the two parliaments at Vienna and Budapest. There were, in addition, two independent Serb states, Serbia and Montenegro. Down to 1912 Turkey ruled over a large number of Serbs.] How did it come about that this evolution of twelve centuries, beginning with primeval unity and passing through a political, economic, and social decomposition of a most bewildering character, has once more arrived at national unity and is even now demanding the last step--political amalgamation? Is it a doctrine or a dream or is it a reality?

When the Jugo-Slavs first occupied the western half of the Balkan peninsula, they were one in speech, in social customs and ancestry, and were divided only into tribes. The Slovenes, who settled in the northern end of the west Balkan block, were not separated from their Croat and Serb kinsmen by the forces of geography, but rather by the course of political evolution. On the other hand, the Croats became separated from the Serbs by forces largely geographical, though partially economic and political, in nature.

The Slovenes gave way before the pressure of the Germans who swept through the Alps and down the Danube and forced the Slovene vojvodes to acknowledge their suzerainty and accept their religion. The Germans would doubtless have succeeded in obliterating them had not the Magyar invasion weakened their offensive. The Slovenes, however, were left a wrecked nationality whose fate became blended with that of the Habsburg possessions and who against the forces of geography--which firmly bound them to the Croats--were politically riveted to the Habsburg north. This division was therefore the result of forces created by man and changeable by him. The Croats settled in the northwestern half of the territory south of the Slovenes; the Serbs roughly in the southeastern part of it. Here geographical influences--the direction of the rivers and the Dinaric ridges--combined with divergent political and economic possibilities, produced a dualism. The Croats on the Save and its tributaries naturally expanded westward and aspired to closer connection with the sea where their struggle with the remnants of Roman civilization and a superior culture absorbed their energies. They developed out of their tribal state more quickly, while the Serbs, further inland and amid more difficult surroundings, developed more slowly. The people who lived along the Save aspired to control the Dalmatian coast which military and geographical authorities claim can best be held from the mainland. The people who lived in Montenegro or along the Morava, which was the gateway to the peninsula, would naturally expand south and east toward the other cultural center, Constantinople, and thus seek to dominate the Balkan peninsula. In both cases, the attraction proved too much for feudal kings and led to the formation of cosmopolitan empires instead of strong national monarchies.

The kingdoms of Croatia and Serbia thus parted company politically. The former became a separate kingdom attached to Hungary in 1102 and to the Habsburg dynasty in 1527, while the Serbs began their expansion under the Nemanja dynasty late in the twelfth century and almost realized the dominion over the Balkans under Stephen Duan in the fourteenth century.

This political, geographical, and economic dualism became still greater when in 1219 the Serbs cast their lot with orthodoxy. The Croats, like the Slovenes, adopted Roman Catholicism, the Latin alphabet, and the culture of Rome. The Serbs accepted Greek Orthodoxy, the Cyrillic alphabet, and the culture of Constantinople.

The Slovenes became a part of the Austrian possessions of the Habsburgs; the Croats fell under the dominion of the Hungarian crown and the republic of Venice; and the Serbs succumbed to the Turks by the middle of the fifteenth century. The loss of political independence brought with it ultimately the loss of the native nobility, the sole guardians of the constitutional and historical rights of the nations down into the nineteenth century in central Europe. In addition, many towns were Germanized and the middle class disappeared. The Jugo-Slavs, like the Czecho-Slovaks, appeared in modern times as a nation which had lost its native nobility and had been reduced to a disarmed, untutored, and enserfed peasantry. In the absence of these leaders, the nation turned to its clergy who in order to retain their hold on the peasantry must needs ever remain national. But here again the misfortune which awaited the Jugo-Slavs was that historically three religions had taken deep root, the Catholic among the Slovenes and Croats, and the Mohammedan and Orthodox among the Serbs. We may therefore conclude the first half of the historical evolution of the Jugo-Slavs with the observation that political, economic, social, and geographical divisions led to their downfall as a nation and that if they ever desired to become one, each one of these chasms would have to be bridged. A solution for each of these problems--the most difficult which ever faced a nation--would have to be found; meanwhile the policy of the four masters, the German, Venetian, Magyar, and Turk, would always be "divide and rule," in other words, to perpetuate the divergencies.