[La Revue Baltique, December 15, 1919] ESTHONIA THROUGH FRENCH EYES

BY M. TERQUEM

I HAVE just spent a considerable period in Esthonia and I bring back very vivid impressions of the country. I have seen a government in operation that was only a few months old. I have dealt directly with cabinet officials with regard to very difficult questions. They handled these matters with a sobriety, a sense of justice, and a respect for democratic principles that would be commendable in a country where republican institutions had always existed. They were not intoxicated with power; they did not waste time with unnecessary formalities; there were no stately guards outside their ante-chambers. No, these high officials were simple, honest, hard-working burghers, who looked upon their office not as a mere title of distinction, but as a command to hard labor.

The messengers in the public buildings were little barefoot boys-for shoes and stockings are unattainably dear. Nothing is left of the horde of gorgeous loafers, smoking cigarettes and drinking tea, that characterized the old Russian administration. Everybody works hard. The office hours are short but intensely busy, after the English or American fashion. All these bureau chiefs and division heads men and women, for there are many of the latter seem interested solely in putting into effect a practical and economical scheme of administration. Common sense compensates for their inexperience. Many of these gentlemen have other occupations besides their official duties. A professor of my acquaintance works from 11 A.M. to 3 P.M. in a govern

-ment office, and gives his courses in the University at other times.

The nation has substituted a constabulary system for professional police. These men are ordinary citizens with a white arm band. They carry a gun slung over their shoulders by a piece of cord, because leather is too scarce and too dear to be employed. They patrol their beats and perform their duties strictly but without harshness. You see unemployed workingmen, poorly clad and barefoot, mingling with well-to-do citizens on the street. But it is perfectly safe any time of the night in the remotest of the interminable suburbs of Reval. You can go about with no other risk than that of being stopped by a constable, who will ask for your pass if you are out after midnight. Unless you have your pass you will be promptly put in jail. There is no trifling with regulations.

Vigor and decision characterize the Esthonian Government. A cabinet composed of revolutionary Socialists takes just as rigorous measures against its political friends, if they try to start trouble, as against the Baltic Barons.

It is a national characteristic of the Esthonians to be very obstinate about having their way. They are energetic in doing what they have resolved upon, but very cautious in embarking upon a project. They are level-headed and logical. Their national character is exactly opposite that of the Russians, which is so engaging, but at bottom so feeble. They, therefore, form a nation consciously distinct - so much so that you are astounded that it should have been able to maintain itself intact under two centuries of Russian domination. As soon as circumstances permitted, it has resumed its ancient character. But it has acquired from the Russians some charming qualities. The people are good

This is absolutely essential, and without it all else is useless. It is the highest civil duty. . . .

'But the financial problem is intimately allied with that of production. Wealth consists in work: to work more, to work more intensely, to work in more orderly and organized a fashion that is what is necessary.

To produce as largely as possible, to export as much as possible, to turn to foreign products as little as possible all this requires a programme of fervor and of work. It requires, above all, an effort of will.'

[Corriere della Sera, December 5, 1919] AN APPEAL TO REASON

MUCH of what has recently occurred is known to the public. We shall not dilate upon the dreadful black chronicle of those events, nor do we desire to exaggerate what is already bad enough. Those were red days: they were days of brutish delirium.

The past year has witnessed many evil developments in our countryso many of them, indeed, that if our course is not changed we run the risk of verifying the pessimistic prediction that the victors in the late war will expire on the corpses of the vanquished. We have permitted the exaltation of victory to turn into the bitterness of domestic discord. We might have anticipated from a successful peace a growing sense of solidarity among the different social classes, a conviction of security and common vigor, a universal anticipation that, having overcome the tragedy of Caporetto, our nation would easily survive any other danger that might befall it. But we have permitted our controversies over foreign policy to poison the good relations of our own people. Our strained economic circumstances have been inter

preted, not as a command to sobriety and labor, but as an excuse for prodigality and idleness. What were at first murmurs have risen to shrieks. The violent conflict of factions has scattered the embers of civil war. Strikes have become epidemic and are developing into revolts. The surface of society is torn asunder, revealing the molten lava at its base.

Crimes of violence have always been a serious evil in Italy. The habit of bloodshed, encouraged by the war, has been engrafted upon a dangerous predisposition already inherent in our race. Distress and disorders, following such experiences as Italy has suffered during the past four years, sharpen the thirst for blood and plunder, and release bestial instincts that lurk at the base of our society. So certain criminal propensities of our race, strengthened by the lessons of the war, have been quick to respond to anonymous agitators whom the recent red riots called forth from their obscurity. The regular leaders who originally planned these ill-advised demonstrations must now regard them with horror. Vagrant inciters of sedition, emerging from unknown haunts, mingled with the masses and assumed control at the critical moment. The appearance of such criminals is the only explanation for the infamous crimes of the last few days, which culminated in savagely hunting down officers of the law, and lynching an unfortunate colonel at Turin.

This is not the road that leads to salvation: it is the way to lose everything. Comfort and privation, respectively, may still be characteristics of two distinct social classes. If such tumults continue, they will indeed equalize the condition of all; but it will be an equality of paupers. Destroy the government, and middle classes and workingmen, landlords and tenants

conservatives and radicals will perish alike in the inundation of evil that will submerge civilization. There are people who never tire of hurling into our ears 'Down with war,' but do not hesitate to expose the entire nation to starvation and ruin.

Would not hesitate? Yes, they would not hesitate. To be sure, our radical deputies in Parliament are not very exultant just now. What they say, and in a still greater degree what they do not say, betrays a chill of fear, a sense of oppressive responsibility. We are not accustomed to abuse our political adversaries, but they must not think that our temperance of language was due to fear lest control of the masses should escape from the class to which we belong. Nor do we accuse our adversaries—at least, the best of them—of regarding these masses as mere pliant forces which they can use to gratify their personal ambitions. We believe they look upon the masses as their own flesh and blood. For this reason they cannot witness without horror the tendencies that now reveal themselves. They cannot look forward in cold blood to the probable future of a nation that is pursuing the course which our people have taken during the past few days. Men who hate war because they hate bloodshed, surely cannot close their eyes to that kind of Socialism and that doctrine of fraternity which does not scorn to attain its ends by a St. Bartholomew of government officials. The leaders of the workingmen cite the recent cessation of the strikes as a proof of the 'arity and the discipline of the prot. But the proletariat in several has answered after its own n, by dropping work again the ing day and demonstrating, if a thing were necessary, how easy to start a conflagration and how ult to extinguish one. A fool can

start an avalanche, but the strongest man cannot check its course.

Something more than this is necessary. Above all, we need honestly to examine our own conscience and to follow its dictates with resolution. The Catholics charge the Socialists. with deliberately misleading the people. The Socialists retort by denouncing the pious Bolshevism of Miglioli. Are not both the accusers right? And what progress are we going to make by such mutual recrimination? Italy! You may call it ‘a fatherland,' as we do, or 'a people' as the Catholics prefer, or 'the proletariat' as the Socialists demand. Does it not amount to the same thing whichever word you use? Is Italy not a historical and moral personification? Does a mere dispute about names justify such domestic strife, while the fatherland, or the people, or the proletariat as you may preferis drifting rapidly into untold dangers? We are all in a position to do our bit for the common salvation. Let the Catholics abandon the pious Bolshevism of Miglioli. Let the Liberals dispense with their wordy fancies and with tactics as puerile as those of the students at Turin, who started a school strike because one of their companions was barbarously assassinated by the Bolsheviki. Let the Socialists above all, the Socialists-who imagine that they have tamed the brute instincts of the masses when they have merely enchained them, bethink themselves before it is too late. Our people are an immature people; our government is an ancient government. We must rejuvenate the latter in the interests of the former; for the people themselves are maturing rapidly. Who are to hold this people in check, if not those who have removed the bit from its mouth? Who will be able to inspire the common people with wisdom, unless it be the

MUCH of what has recently occurred is known to the public. We shall not dilate upon the dreadful black chronicle of those events, nor do we desire to exaggerate what is already bad enough. Those were red days: they were days of brutish delirium.

The past year has witnessed many evil developments in our countryso many of them, indeed, that if our course is not changed we run the risk of verifying the pessimistic prediction that the victors in the late war will expire on the corpses of the vanquished. We have permitted the exaltation of victory to turn into the bitterness of domestic discord. We might have anticipated from a successful peace a growing sense of solidarity among the different social classes, a conviction of security and common vigor, a universal anticipation that, having overcome the tragedy of Caporetto, our nation would easily survive any other danger that might befall it. But we have permitted our controversies over foreign policy to poison the good relations of our own people. Our strained economic circumstances have been inter

preted, not as a command to sobriety and labor, but as an excuse for prodigality and idleness. What were at first murmurs have risen to shrieks. The violent conflict of factions has scattered the embers of civil war. Strikes have become epidemic and are developing into revolts. The surface of society is torn asunder, revealing the molten lava at its base.

Crimes of violence have always been a serious evil in Italy. The habit of bloodshed, encouraged by the war, has been engrafted upon a dangerous predisposition already inherent in our race. Distress and disorders, following such experiences as Italy has suffered during the past four years, sharpen the thirst for blood and plunder, and release bestial instincts that lurk at the base of our society. So certain criminal propensities of our race, strengthened by the lessons of the war, have been quick to respond to anonymous agitators whom the recent red riots called forth from their obscurity. The regular leaders who originally planned these ill-advised demonstrations must now regard them with horror. Vagrant inciters of sedition, emerging from unknown haunts, mingled with the masses and assumed control at the critical moment. The appearance of such criminals is the only explanation for the infamous crimes of the last few days, which culminated in savagely hunting down officers of the law, and lynching an unfortunate colonel at Turin.

This is not the road that leads to salvation: it is the way to lose everything. Comfort and privation, respectively, may still be characteristics of two distinct social classes. If such tumults continue, they will indeed equalize the condition of all; but it will be an equality of paupers. Destroy the government, and middle classes and workingmen, landlords and tenants,

conservatives and radicals will perish alike in the inundation of evil that will submerge civilization. There are people who never tire of hurling into our ears 'Down with war,' but do not hesitate to expose the entire nation to starvation and ruin.

Would not hesitate? Yes, they would not hesitate. To be sure, our radical deputies in Parliament are not very exultant just now. What they say, and in a still greater degree what they do not say, betrays a chill of fear, a sense of oppressive responsibility. We are not accustomed to abuse our political adversaries, but they must not think that our temperance of language was due to fear lest control of the masses should escape from the class to which we belong. Nor do we accuse our adversaries—at least, the best of them-of regarding these masses as mere pliant forces which they can use to gratify their personal ambitions. We believe they look upon the masses as their own flesh and blood. For this reason they cannot witness without horror the tendencies that now reveal themselves. They cannot look forward in cold blood to the probable future of a nation that is pursuing the course which our people have taken during the past few days. Men who hate war because they hate bloodshed, surely cannot close their eyes to that kind of Socialism and that doctrine of fraternity which does not scorn to attain its ends by a St. Bartholomew of government officials. The leaders of the workingmen cite the recent cessation of the strikes as a proof of the solidarity and the discipline of the proletariat. But the proletariat in several cities has answered after its own fashion, by dropping work again the following day and demonstrating, if such a thing were necessary, how easy it is to start a conflagration and how difficult to extinguish one. A fool can

start an avalanche, but the strongest man cannot check its course.

Something more than this is necessary. Above all, we need honestly to examine our own conscience and to follow its dictates with resolution. The Catholics charge the Socialists with deliberately misleading the people. The Socialists retort by denouncing the pious Bolshevism of Miglioli. Are not both the accusers right? And what progress are we going to make by such mutual recrimination? Italy! You may call it 'a fatherland,' as we do, or 'a people' as the Catholics prefer, or 'the proletariat' as the Socialists demand. Does it not amount to the same thing whichever word you use? Is Italy not a historical and moral personification? Does a mere dispute about names justify such domestic strife, while the fatherland, or the people, or the proletariat — as you may preferis drifting rapidly into untold dangers? We are all in a position to do our bit for the common salvation. Let the Catholics abandon the pious Bolshevism of Miglioli. Let the Liberals dispense with their wordy fancies and with tactics as puerile as those of the students at Turin, who started a school strike because one of their companions was barbarously assassinated by the Bolsheviki. Let the Socialists-above all, the Socialists-who imagine that they have tamed the brute instincts of the masses when they have merely enchained them, bethink themselves before it is too late. Our people are an immature people; our government is an ancient government. We must rejuvenate the latter in the interests of the former; for the people themselves are maturing rapidly. Who are to hold this people in check, if not those who have removed the bit from its mouth? Who will be able to inspire the common people with wisdom, unless it be the