While I was in London, conferring with Foreign Office officials who were likely to take part in the Peace Conference—Sir William Tyrrell, Sir Eyre Crowe, Lord Hardinge of Penshurst and my old acquaintance, Sir George Clerk, and was visiting the chief members of the diplomatic corps—I had my first experience of a characteristic diplomatic incident. The column erected at Prague in honour of the Virgin Mary (as a monument of the Hapsburg victory over our people in the Battle of the White Mountain during the Counter-Reformation) had been thrown down, and the Vatican took occasion to draw attention to the matter in London. I do not know in what form the Vatican communication was made, as I was not officially notified; and, though I was unaware of the details of the incident at Prague, I knew that the removal of the column had often been demanded by our people who had doubtless thrown it down in a moment of political excitement, not in a spirit of religious intolerance. In this sense I was able to explain it.
Meanwhile, events on the continent were proceeding apace after the defeat of the Central Powers. On December 1 the British troops crossed the German frontier, and I well remember what an impression the news made in London. On the same day the German Crown Prince renounced all his rights to the Prussian Crown and to the German Imperial dignity; while, in Serbia, Prince Alexander took over the Regency and the Serbo-Croat-Slovene State became a reality. Tidings of the last days of the Austrian Empire reached me also in London—particularly, by special messenger, an account of the way the Austrians had sought to turn to account the meeting of our delegates at Geneva. Some Austrian agents had tried to pry into our delegates’ political disposition, and more than one member of our delegation seemed to have fallen into the trap and to have dilated upon the difference between my views and those of Dr. Kramář and his followers. Reports that these delegates were wavering in their opposition to Austria were then sent by the Austrian agents to Vienna; but Dr. Beneš soon came from Paris and cleared up the position in unmistakable fashion. Yet the episode served to remind me of the position I had held in our political world at home before the war, and to make me feel that men rarely undergo a thorough change of heart. They would doubtless say: “Masaryk as President Good; but he has no Party behind him. He is an idealist, more of a philosopher than a politician.” Would not the old antagonisms be revived? Would all political men
