The Battle of Athens represents a turning point in contemporary Greek history. This battle ended technically with the armistice of January 11 and the Varkiza peace agreement of February 12, but in actuality the civil war has continued with few interruptions to the present day. Neither did the foreign intervention that accompanied the Battle of Athens end with the Varkiza pact. Rather it has increased steadily, culminating in the bitter debates in the United Nations Security Council and in the enunciation of the Truman Doctrine. Prior to the Battle of Athens there was at least the possibility of a peaceful postwar political evolution in Greece. The battle ended this possibility and set in motion the chain reaction that has devastated Greece and imperiled world peace. The question of the origins of the Athens strife is, therefore, of more than academic interest.

At the beginning of December 1944, a mere six weeks after the return of a “liberation” government to Greece, fighting broke out in Athens between British troops and the principal guerrilla force which had resisted the Germans. This sudden turn of affairs created general bewilderment at the time, both in Athens and elsewhere; and not a little indignation arose at the sight of erstwhile allies fighting against one another at a time when Germany, the common enemy, was not yet overthrown. The passage of time, and the publication of a number of books, now permit a more adequate understanding of the events which gave so decisive a turn to postwar Greek life.

The activities of secret revolutionary societies in the Russian Army towards the close of the reign of Alexander I, the abortive mutiny of December, 1825, and the subsequent collapse and repression of the movement, are among the best-known episodes of modern Russian history. Although a great deal has been written about the conspiracy itself, considerably less is known about its effect on the course of Russian diplomacy and the impression which it made upon foreign observers at the time. Therefore, it may not be without interest to read the reports, most of them hitherto unpublished, of a British diplomat, who witnessed the uprising and its consequences in Russian internal and foreign policy.

Today in several of the countries of Europe where the capitalist economic system still prevails and where Communist parties are not in control of the government, one of the principal means by which the Communists exert their influence is through trade unions. News analysts predict that when and if the Communists in France and Italy attempt to seize power, they will first paralyze these countries through general strikes conducted by the trade unions. In Czechoslovakia the rise to power of-the Communist Party was greatly facilitated by Communist control of the trade-union movement.

On the other hand, in countries like the United States, Great Britain and Germany, the non-Communist trade union movement has acted as one of the most important bulwarks against the growth of Communist parties.

In December, 1945, fifteen freight cars left for Moscow with material from the Russian Historical Archive in the capital of Czechoslovakia.

Before the second World War the Russian Archive had become the outstanding collection in Europe on recent Russian history outside of the Soviet Union. Specializing particularly in the revolutionary period of 1917-21 and the “White” emigration, its only equal outside of Russia was in the United States: the Hoover War Library of Stanford University.

Ever since 1945, recurrent reports in the United States have spoken of the complete removal and dissolution of the great collection. During a visit to Prague in the summer of 1948 I endeavored to gather all available facts.

In the Introduction to his valuable bibliography of Puškin in English, published on the occasion of the centenary of Puškin's death, Mr. A. Yarmolinsky says: “…the extent to which the name [of Puškin] was known in England, let alone in other English-speaking countries, must have been exceedingly limited. It is doubtful if Wordsworth, whose name figures in a famous sonnet of Pushkin's, or Coleridge, of whom Pushkin was an assiduous and appreciative reader, had ever heard of their great contemporary, and it is safe to assume that Byron … did not suspect the existence of his Northern admirer and imitator.” On the whole, Mr. Yarmolinsky is, of course, right, and there is nothing surprising in the fact that Byron, who died in 1824, had not suspected the existence of “the Byron of Russia,” as Puškin was to be dubbed in England before the decade was out. But even during Puskin's lifetime, Russian literature had begun to attract attention outside Russia, and Puškin himself was spoken of as its outstanding representative.

The document given below, which has recently come to light in the archives of the British Foreign Office, concerns the punishment meted out to the French adventurer D'Anthès-Heeckeren, who killed Puškin in a duel in January, 1837. The author of this dispatch, John George Lambton, Ist Earl of Durham (1792-1840), a noted Whig politician, had been Lord Privy Seal in the Grey Ministry from 1830 to 1833. His zeal for reform had earned him the nickname of Radical Jack. He was British Ambassador to St. Petersburg from 1835 until 1837, and Governor General of Canada in 1838.

It is not suggested that Durham's report adds any material facts to our knowledge of Puškin's tragic end. At the same time, it emphasizes in a striking manner the discreditable part played by the Dutch Minister, Heeckeren, in his adopted son's conduct.

Zygmunt Krasiński, who in one short essay cast more light on the particular excellencies of Słowacki's poetry than do volumes of commentary, when he was informed—one hundred years ago—of Slowacki's death, declared that his grave should be inscribed “To the Author of Anhelli” adding: “This alone will suffice to secure his fame to future generations.” There were perhaps special reasons why Krasiński should have best understood and most admired Anhelli, but it is still difficult to quarrel with his judgment. Of all Stowacki's works, Anhelli is perhaps the most easily accessible to us—more understandable now, even, than it could have been when it was first published, one hundred and eleven years ago.