the feelings and the decisions of the leading men, the political parties and the people at large.
The main question is whether the revolution at home was passive or active. Was it deliberately brought about, was it desired; or were the downfall of Austria, the breakdown on the Italian front and in the interior merely turned to account, in haste, at the twelfth hour? If it was desired and intended, how long and by whom had it consciously been worked for at home? After four years’ bitter experience, were our people prepared, at the end of the war, for a real overthrow of the Hapsburg State system, for a real, albeit a bloodless, revolution? It is not enough that many desired freedom. What did we do to gain it?
It is a question of our national conscience and consciousness. In my own case, I have explained repeatedly why I had pondered, year in year out, the problem of revolution. It was no empty toying with ideas. I sought to analyse myself, our national character and even the soul of the Russians—for we were pro-Russian—so as to be clear in my own mind whether our and the Slav humanitarian programme were merely passive, whether we should simply seek to defend ourselves against harsh oppression, or whether we should be capable of political action, independently, of our own free will and deliberate choice, from inward resolve, not alone under pressure—whether, in a word, we could be our own masters? This is why I went so deeply into the question how it came about that Chelčický and his Bohemian Brethren could exist alongside of Žižka. Was Chelčický a passive nature and is his passive quality also in our nature, in our blood, in our character, in our soul? Or was Chelčický an effect of the opposite extreme in Žižka; was he passive only in tactics, not in virtue of a principle inherent in his and our character? In Palacký’s view, even Žižka and the Hussites acted only in self-defence. Does this mean that we were, in fact, guided, urged, compelled from outside, and that we only became heroes under stress of adversity?
In truth, Chelčický was not passive. He was, on the contrary, very active, radical, determined and uncompromising, no less active, no less radical than, and quite as fearless as Žižka. He and Žižka are the obverse and reverse sides of the same hard Bohemian coin. Chelčický’s mistakes arose from a wrong conception of human nature.
It was from this standpoint that I watched, for instance, our lads in Russia and Siberia. We had an army, and were
