Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/340

Roman Empire,—on Constantinople,—on the route to Asia Minor, to Bagdad—

It was getting on for 10 o’clock when I parted from the student of my lecture.

A warm summer night, a sky full of stars.

So not today. When? When? I had an infallible foreboding that this sword of Damocles must sooner or later descend.

Days elapsed, weeks elapsed.

And in one of those weeks it happened that the post became silent as far as I was concerned. No papers arrived, letters did not come, nothing. Then again a day came and the precious post put in an appearance with a bundle of all the overdue papers and a heap of letters. The address-slips on the newspapers had been torn through, the envelopes of the letters had been cut open on one side and gummed down again. Aha, even an Empire can contrive to be inquisitive, and at such a serious time about the private affairs of a respectable rate-payer. Family letters, those dealing with literary affairs, from friends, picture postcards, bills, cards from the front, parcels of provisions,-all this was of interest to the State, all this it opened and examined.

Good, the signs are increasing, I thought to myself.

I have already mentioned the confiscations of my books. They began on St. Václav’s day, when newspapers published a report that my volume of verses entitled “Drops” had been confiscated. This collection had appeared at the beginning of the year, and had been received by the critics, as far as I had seen their comments either with benevolent praise or with a profound lack of comprehension,—as the majority of my books. I had long reflected and conjectured what the State Officials could have found compromising in it, I reflected and conjectured in vain, finally I said to myself this is not the first instance, it will not be the last.

And it was not, as I have already said.

For December 5th I received a summons to attend the military divisional Court. I was to appear as a witness in the case of Dr. Kramář and associates, charged with infringing such and such paragraphs. In the morning at 9 o’clock at the Hernalser Guertel. Signed Mottl, Colonel.

In the meanwhile a whole series of persons, well-known in our public life, changed their residences. They moved to the Hradchin, then to Vienna, and romantic rumors were woven about the reasons for their journeys. A misunderstood button, information lodged with the police, the thanks of its President expressed to the leaders of the Labor Party, a man could not hear enough of it, and when he had made sure that he had heard aright, he could not and would not helieve it. Nearly the whole editing staff of the suspended “Čas” was already residing in Vienna, and with them Dr. Soukup as well.

He, however, was soon set at liberty, as nothing incriminating could be associated with him.

I have a keen recollection of December 5th. Such days as these engrave ineradicable traces upon the memory.

It was not an agreeable day. Dull, overcast, chilly and dismal. Before 9 o’clock, as I had been summoned, I entered the building of the Military Court. I had been there six months previously to see Dr. Preminger. A porter was there who saluted,—curious; today I took his salute as a matter of course, as an insignificant phenomenom, in another six months it will emerge as something particularly remarkable to me, for I shall see that this building has yet other entrances which are without porters who salute.

In the witnesses’ room there were already a few gentlemen. Others arrived,—some I knew, with others I became acquainted. We were all assembled on behalf of Dr. Kramář and associates. Chief director Dr. Matuš, Dean Burian, Švehla, Prokupek, Mayor Groš, Dr. Soukup,—we were all waiting.

A Seargeant-Major arrived, read out our names and conducted us into the hall. On a platform in a semi-circle were the judges,—uniform beside uniform, medals on their chests, crosses,—twenty or thirty persons, I do not know exactly,—several silver-braided collars,—and the whole thing a blurred picture of combed heads, moustaches, eyes, ears, noses,—and nothing by which the glance was forcibly arrested. We received our admonition as witnesses and returned to the room.

From the windows there was a view below of small courtyards and a large one. Above them arose several stories with barred windows.—the jail. Everything was faded and drab,—the courtyards, the color of the walls, the dusty windows, the air in the courtyard and the sky above it all. Drab, the most aristocratic of colors, can sometimes be very repulsive.

Dr. Mattuš was the first of us to be called. A quarter of an hour, half an hour, a whole hour,—still he did not return.

“They do it thoroughly” observed Švehla when kept walking to and fro in the room.

Mayor Groš was talking to Prokůpek about fool questions in Prague. Dean Burian was reviving memories with Dr. Soukup of an encounter in connection with some school,—the Dean was once Minister for Education in the Central Committee of the Kingdom of Bohemia. In the little courtyard three Russian officers were walking about,—an old man with the badges a staff officer, the two others being young subalterns. Two men of the defence-corps were guarding them with fixed bayonets. The area of the yard as about two hundred square metres, but it seemed that this trifle was no hindrance to the Russians. They moved along slowly, stopped gesticulated, perhaps their conversation had removed them to some distant district of their native land,—perhaps they were criticising the