Face to Face with Kaiserism

by James W. Gerard

It is probable that Russia will go through the stages of the great French Revolution. We have had already the revolution made by the whole nation, Duma, army, and the control of the respectable moderate Republicans. The period of the Jacobins, the extremists, has come, too, and we must in the end expect the appearance of the military leader, a strong man who will bring order. That is what will happen, for Russia cannot remain a nation under the control of any government which cheerfully consents to dismemberment of her territory. Perhaps Trotzky will be clever enough to transform himself into a patriotic militant leader, if not, then he will not long remain at the head.

All these movements of lesser so-called nationalities are fostered by Prussian propagandists.

The region of the Ukraine, in Southern Russia, is supposed to be clamouring for freedom and independent existence. Long before the Russian revolution, I and all the diplomats of Germany were flooded with newspapers, pamphlets and literature about the longing of the Ukraine—all as plainly issued by the Germans as if they had been stamped with the Royal arms of Prussia and the seal of the General Staff.

The Lithuanians, too, stir uneasily. There is, perhaps, more in their claim; they request the world not to confuse them with the Poles and they protest against incorporation with Poland. But should a number of little states be created, sliced from the map of Russia, they would enjoy but a short independence before falling, one by one, into the maw of Prussia.

Every one sympathises with the Poles and hopes for the establishment of a really free and independent Poland, and not a Poland under the rule or protection of either Austria or Germany. It will be a great experiment, because in the past the great state of Poland, one of the greatest in Europe, was broken because of the incapacity of the Poles to rule themselves. Their armies showed great bravery, the Polish cavalry, winged like angels, terrified enemy cavalry horses and charged often to victory; but the Polish aristocrats, camped with thousands of retainers at the place where the King was elected, sat patiently waiting for the highest bidder before giving their votes.

And the King once elected, the Polish diet accomplished nothing, because any noble who voted against a proposition could defeat it. This was the so-called "liberum veto" so fatal to Poland. Katharine of Russia, that clever, wise, dissolute but great German Princess, placing a puppet favourite on the Polish throne, insisted on the retention of the "liberum veto" in the Polish Constitution, because she knew that by the mere existence of this asinine institution Poland could be counted on to commit suicide for the benefit of the watching spoilers, Russia, Prussia and Austria.

But a new, real Poland would not be governed by its aristocracy, and under a democratic government the splendid Polish race could be trusted to work out successfully their political salvation.

Should the strong man fail to appear in Russia and the Bolsheviki continue to rule, then the confusion of Russia may not prove an immediate help to Germany.

In the first place, no one now works in Russia; the population will be in want of food and will not have any great surplus to export; and it will be a long time before Germany can draw any material help from the Steppes of incompetency. Had Russia immediately settled down to a new form of government, the case might have been different, but now Germany or some power in Russia must first organise that vast country for production under new conditions before Germany can begin to profit from the withdrawal of Russia from the war except, perhaps, in that important factor—the release of German troops from the Eastern frontier. But as time passes the Germans may use food from Russia to bribe northern neutral nations into an alliance with the Central Empires.

Revolutions are contagious. In 1848, the movement started in France spread all over Europe. The burdened horse on the road evinces a tendency to get out of hand at the mere sight of another horse cavorting about a pasture. The Germans are in blinders and driven by heavy hand, but forgotten as liberty is in Germany, the German Michael, the peasant chained to the soil, the hard-driven, poorly paid worker of the cities, at least, will exhibit a spirit of uneasiness, when across the line he sees Ivan, the Russian moujik, capering about, free from restraint and running things at his own sweet will. The yoke fits tight to Michael's neck, the German Kaiser drives hard from his All Highest Place; but no Emperor seemed more secure than the head of the Romanoffs, and the very fact that the chains of the yoke seem so strong may make the driven cattle all the more ready to toss the yoke aside when knowledge of power comes to the lower castes of Germany and Austria.