Page:The Bohemian Review, vol2, 1918.djvu/191



The hope of generations has come true. After three hundred years of slavery there is once more free Bohemia. The black and yellow flag no longer disfigures the fair vistas of Prague and the Austrian double eagle, that mean bird of prey, has been torn down from the public buildings of the Czech cities. The Czechoslovak republic is a reality.

In the life of nations a century is but a day. Less than a hundred years ago a dozen men were gathered in one of the ancient palaces of Prague; one of the men said, half in fun and half in earnest, that should the ceiling fall down on them, it would be the end of the Czech nation. To such a pass was reduced that brave people which once upon a time successfully repelled the attacks of almost all Europe. As recently as last winter the leaders of the revolution were in despair; the Germans were victorious and the Allies maintained a cool attitude toward the aspirations of the Czechoslovaks. And now everything has been won and the most ardent dreams of the patriots have been realized.

Those last days of October must have been wonderful days in old Prague. That famed city, every stone of which could relate strange tales, could it but speak, has never witnessed such inspiring, such joyous events in all the twelve hundred years of its history. The great St. Václav Square jammed with people—old men, women and children, listening to the proclamation of independence from the steps of the Museum, gathering around the statue of St. Václav to sing with one voice the ancient Czech choral, strangers embracing each other with tears, all fired with a determination to be worthy of that inestimable boon of liberty, achieved afer such waiting and such terrible suffering! Soldiers tore off the Austrian cockades from their caps. Reports came in in close succession: Count Coudenhove, the emperor’s governor, fled. The city officials swore loyalty to the new national government. State officials came to the Czechoslovak National Committee to be confirmed in their offices. And the German commanders of the local garrison put themselves at the disposal of the Czech government.

Similar scenes of excitement and exaltation must have taken place in the historical Old Town Square in front of the City Hall and around the splendid monument of John Hus. Only three years ago that monument erected to the memory of Bohemia’s greatest son had to be unveiled by stealth. Now men saw in it a symbol that the noble past would live again. If we could but have heard the speeches that were inspired by the greatness of the moment! And the cheers that every mention of the names of Masaryk and evoked! And the majestic singing of the Czech national hymn! Those who were there will tell the story of it to their children’s children as the greatest moment of their lives.

Everything was forgotten—the sufferings of the past four years, the constant hunger, the absence of their loved ones; even the death of those who fell fighting for the freedom of their nation was remembered with a sweet grief. But the Czechs will not and cannot forget soon that hundreds of thousands of their best men were killed senselessly, in vain, victims to the ambition and criminal greed of hated rulers who drove the Czechs to the front to be killed by their own friends. The Czechs and Slovaks have a long account to settle with the Hapsburgs and the German and Magyar jingoes who provoked the war. But let us think more of the future than of the past. Long live the Czechoslovak Republic! It comes to the people of Bohemia and Slovakia not as a gift; they conquered it by their sacrifices and the shedding of their blood. May it prosper! And may the new Bohemia play as noble a part in the future as it did in the past!