The Ukrainians in Galicia under Austrian Rule

On the eve of World War I, the Ukrainian inhabitants of the Austro- Hungarian Empire numbered some four million. They were divided among the Austrian provinces of Galicia (3,380,000) and Bukovyna (300,000), and the Kingdom of Hungary (470,000).¹ In each of these three territories the Ukrainians lived under quite different conditions. This calls for the separate treatment of each of the three groups. As, however, the Galician Ukrainians were not only the most numerous, but also historically by far the most important, this paper will deal only with them.

The official designation for the East Slavic inhabitants of the Habsburg Empire was “Ruthenians” (die Ruthenen); in their own language they called themselves rusyny. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, the Galician and Bukovynian Ruthenians began to favour the adoption of a new national name -- “Ukrainians” -- which finally prevailed.

The Impact of Austrian Enlightened Despotism

Ethnic nationality was of no political consequence in the eighteenth century. At the time of the annexation of Galicia to the Austrian Empire in 1772, the nobility of the land had been Polonized for a long time. Thus it is not surprising that properly speaking the Austrian government had at first no “Ruthenian policy.” Although the legal pretext used at the time of the First Partition of Poland was the alleged right of the Habsburg dynasty to the inheritance of the medieval Rus’ Galician-Volhynian Kingdom, the newly acquired province was, for all practical purposes, treated as a slice of Polish territory. However, the Ukrainian population of Galicia was soon to feel the impact of the new regime. The reform measures of the Austrian “enlightened” monarchs, Maria Theresa and Joseph II, directly affected the two social groups that had retained their [315] Rus’ identity: the peasants and the Uniate clergy.

The most important measures enacted by the Austrian government between 1772 and 1790 in favour of the Galician peasantry were the following: the limitation of the corvee to a maximum of three days a week, and of 156 days a year, from a peasant household, with a decreasing scale of services from the poorer groups of villagers; a strict prohibition of any additional exactions beyond the statutory corvee; the creation of a cadaster and the securing to the peasants of the possession of the plots actually held and cultivated by them; the organization of villages into communities with elected officers; the granting of certain basic personal rights, such as the right to marry without the master’s permission and the right to complain and appeal against the decisions of the landowner to the organs of state administration.²

One has to recognize the limitations of these reforms. The Austrian government did not aim at a condition of civic equality. The empire was to remain a hierarchical “society of estates.” The peasant, technically no longer a “serf,” still continued to be a “hereditary tenant” of the dominium (manorial estate). Besides the right to the peasants’ unpaid labour, the dominium also retained important prerogatives of an administrative, judicial, and fiscal nature. After the death of Joseph II in 1790, and with the beginning of prolonged wars against France, further reforms were discontinued. The conservative tenor of the post-Napoleonic period made administrative practice more sympathetic to the landowners’ interests. Still, the Galician peasant had become “at least an object of law, and not, as before [under the old Polish regime], outside any law.”³ Writing on the eve of World War I, Ivan Franko stated: “Our people have not forgotten him [Joseph II], and they still speak of his wise and humane treatment of his subjects.”⁴ The pro-peasant reforms of Maria Theresa and Joseph II laid the foundation for the dynastic loyalty of the Ukrainian masses in Galicia, which was to last until the end of the monarchy.

The Greek Catholic, or Uniate, Church occupied a crucial place in the history of the Galician Ukrainians in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.⁵ The Austrian government granted the Uniate church and clergy equal status with their Roman Catholic counterparts, which had been denied them by the former Polish regime. In 1774, Maria Theresa decreed a new official term, “Greek Catholics”; the purpose was to stress the parity of the “Greek” and the “Roman” rites. This principle of parity, repeatedly emphasized by Maria Theresa, Joseph II, and Leopold II, was implemented by a series of practical measures: the improvement of the legal and economic position of the Greek Catholic clergy, the creation of seminaries, and the creation of cathedral chapters in Lviv and Przemysl, whose members were to assist the bishops in the administration [316] of their dioceses. The crowning reform, in 1808, was the elevation of the Lviv bishopric to the rank of Metropolitan See of Halych.⁶ This had been originally suggested, as early as 1773, by Bishop Lev Sheptytsky of Lviv (1717-79) with the argument that a Galician “Greek” metropolis would extend Austrian political influence among the Uniates of Western Ukraine, still part of Poland (until the Second Partition of 1793), and help to counter Russia’s “schismatic” propaganda there.⁷

Polish cultural influence among the Greek Catholic clergy, which had its roots in pre-Partition times, increased during the early decades of Austrian rule. The lifting of the social and educational status of the clerical class made its members more susceptible to the tempting example of the way of life of the Polish gentry. But in spite of the dominance of the Polish language in Ruthenian clerical families, which was to last well into the second half of the nineteenth century, there were early symptoms of an anti-Polish political attitude. In 1809, when Galicia was temporarily occupied by the forces of Napoleon’s Polish satellite, the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, Metropolitan Antin Anhelovych (1756-1814) refused to participate in any Polish patriotic demonstrations, and suffered for his loyalty to the Habsburg cause.⁸

The struggle of Cossack Ukraine for political independence in the seventeenth century was closely associated with the defence of Orthodoxy against Islam and Roman Catholicism. The Uniate church appeared at that time as an adjunct of alien Polish domination. By the nineteenth century, a curious reversal of roles had taken place. After the subordination of the Metropolitan See of Kiev to the Moscow Patriarchate (1685), the Orthodox church in Ukraine lost its autonomy, and gradually became completely Russified. The Uniate church, suppressed in the Russian Empire (1839), was limited to the Habsburg domains. But here it experienced a remarkable resurgence. The beneficial reforms sponsored by the Austrian government raised the educational and civic standards of the Greek Catholic clergy above those of the contemporary Orthodox clergy. At the same time, the impact of Austrian “Josephinism” enabled the Greek Catholic Church to rid itself of the Polish connection. It was now in a position to assume the role of a Ukrainian national church. From 1848 on, the Greek Catholic clergy provided the political leadership of the Ukrainian community in Galicia. Later, the leadership gradually passed into the hands of the lay intelligentsia, many of whom were, however, sons of clerical families.

The Intellectual Awakening

The end of the Napoleonic wars initiated a long period of international and internal peace. But during these drowsy Biedermeier years an indigenous intellectual life began to take shape among Galicia’s Greek Catholic [317] clerical intelligentsia. Beginning in the 1820s, a few scholars appeared among them: historians (Mykhailo Harasevych [1763-1836], Denys Zubrytsky [1777-1862]) and grammarians and ethnographers (Ivan Mohylnytsky [1777-1831], Iosyf Lozynsky [1807-89], Iosyf Levytsky [1801-60]). However, their works were written in Latin, German or Polish. Some Polish scholars also published important collections of Ukrainian folklore.

The next step, in 1832, was the formation of a patriotic circle among the students of the Greek Catholic theological seminary in Lviv. The leader of the group was Markiian Shashkevych (1811-43), a talented poet and an inspiring personality. His closest associates were Iakiv Holovatsky (1814-88) and Ivan Vahylevych (1811-60). The three young men were nicknamed “The Ruthenian Triad.”⁹

What differentiated the Triad from their predecessors and older contemporaries was their determination to lift the vernacular to the level of a literary language. They decided to publish an almanac containing samples of folk poetry and some original works. After many difficulties with censorship, a small volume appeared in 1837: Rusalka Dnistrovaia (The Nymph of the Dniester). It was printed in Buda in Hungary, where censorship was more lenient than in Galicia. The Rusalka was the beginning of modern Ukrainian literature in Galicia, and also a milestone in the formation of national consciousness.

The Rusalka Dnistrovaia may appear today as completely innocuous and devoid of political significance, but contemporaries felt this “linguistic revolution” to be radical and dangerous. Shashkevych and his friends had further plans: they started a systematic collection of folkloristic materials and intended to publish educational literature for the peasants. But their initiative was paralyzed by the establishment. Said the police director of Lviv: “We already have enough trouble with one nationality [the Poles], and these madmen want to resurrect the dead-and-buried Ruthenian nationality.”¹⁰ But even more crippling than bureaucratic obtuseness was the hostility of the Greek Catholic hierarchy. Metropolitan Mykhailo Levytsky (1774-1858) and his collaborators felt that the use of the “peasant language” in print was undignified, indecent, and possibly subversive. Ecclesiastical censorship confiscated the edition of Rusalka, and prevented other vernacular publications. The humiliations and persecutions to which the members of the Ruthenian Triad were exposed contributed to Shashkevych’s premature death, and finally drove Vahylevych to the Polish camp.

Shashkevych and his circle were well aware that the Galician “Ruthenians” and the “Little Russians” across the Austrian-Russian boundary were one and the same people. They were stimulated by the young vernacular literary movement in eastern Ukraine, and by personal contacts [318] with some scholars of Ukrainian background at Russian universities (Izmail Sreznevsky, Mykhailo Maksymovych, Osyp Bodiansky). The latter were by no means Ukrainian nationalists, but they encouraged their Galician friends’ romantic enthusiasm for the popular language and folkloristic studies.

Another inspiration emanated from the Czechs.¹¹ The spectacular achievements of the Czech national movement were an obvious model for Galician “Awakeners.” Through the mediation of Karel Vladislav Zap, a Czech man of letters employed in the Galician administration, Holovatsky and Vahylevych established contacts with the leading Czech Slavists, and contributed to Prague periodicals. Both the Czechs and the Galician Ukrainians inclined to an Austro-Slavic political program. In an article published in 1846, the outstanding Czech publicist, Karel Havlicek, called Ukraine “a lamb between two wolves,” Russia and Poland, and “an apple of discord thrown by fate between these two nations.” He advised Austria to support the Ukrainians in Galicia, who then would be in a position to influence their compatriots in the Russian Empire.¹² Iakiv Holovatsky expressed, also in 1846, strikingly similar views in an article published in a German journal.¹³ After describing the social plight and cultural stagnation of his people, oppressed by the Polish aristocracy and neglected by their own reactionary high clergy, Holovatsky explained why, in spite of these unsatisfactory conditions, the Galician Ruthenians felt no attraction toward Russia. The peasants knew that in Russia there was no legal protection for the serf against abuse; the Greek Catholic priests had a better life than Russian Orthodox popes. Moreover, in Russia “there is little hope for their literature and nationality. Muscovitism swamps everything. . . . The centralizing Russian government looks askance at the emergence of a Little Russian literature.” Holovatsky concluded that “by favouring Ruthenian literature [in Galicia], Austria could exercise influence on Little Russia.”

The anti-Russian revolt in Congress Poland (1830-31) caused a burgeoning of underground activities in Galicia. These culminated, fifteen years later, in the ill-starred revolt of 1846. Polish conspirators, who thought of their country in its pre-Partition frontiers, extended their propaganda to the Ukrainian community.¹⁴ The attempts at proselytizing among the peasantry gave birth to a propagandistic literature in the Ukrainian vernacular. But this agitation met no favourable response. Revolutionary propaganda was more successful with educated Ukrainians. At least some segments of the Greek Catholic intelligentsia were susceptible to the libertarian appeal of the Polish cause. A conspiratorial group formed, in 1833-4, among the students of the Lviv seminary. But even before its suppression by the authorities, in 1838, it met with opposition from the ranks of the young people themselves. Some Ukrainian [319] members of the underground Association of the Polish People demanded that its name be changed to “of the Polish and Ruthenian People," but this proposal was rejected with scorn.¹⁵ This rigidity of the Polish revolutionaries led to an anti-Polish reaction, and the Ruthenian national current, headed by the Shashkevych circle, gained the upper hand among the seminarians. The wider question of the Polish impact on the Galician “Awakeners” requires a double-edged answer. European liberal ideas reached Ukrainians of that generation mostly through Polish channels. On the other hand, the assertion of a separate Ukrainian nationality necessarily implied a struggle against the traditional Polish hegemony. “The work was accomplished quietly and without much ado. The Poles lost their hold on a nation which only a few years before had been closely associated with and hardly distinguishable from them. There was no need for [the governor of Galicia] Count Stadion to ‘invent’ the Ruthenians in 1848; he already found them there.”¹⁶

The 1848 Revolution

Immediately following the outbreak of the Viennese revolt, the Poles staged large-scale patriotic demonstrations in Galicia. On 18 March 1848, they addressed a petition to the emperor, demanding extensive autonomy for Galicia, which they treated as a purely Polish land. One month later, on 19 April, the Ukrainians submitted a petition of their own; they asked for the recognition of their nationality, and for equal rights for the two peoples inhabiting Galicia.¹⁷ The formation of a Supreme Ruthenian Council (Holovna Ruska Rada) on 2 May contradicted the claim of the Polish National Council to speak for Galicia as a whole. The Supreme Ruthenian Council, presided over by the Greek Catholic bishop-coadjutor of Lviv, Hryhorii Iakhymovych (1792-1863), formulated its program in a manifesto of 10 May.

Some of the more important acts of the Galician Ukrainians during the revolutionary period were the following: the formation of a network of thirty-four local branches of the Rada throughout the country; the founding of Zoria halytska (The Galician Star), the first Ukrainian-language newspaper not only in Galicia, but in all Ukrainian lands; participation in the Slavic Congress in Prague in June 1848; a campaign for election to the first Austrian Reichstag and participation in parliamentary work; formation of a Ruthenian National Guard and military detachments, which took part in the war against insurgent Hungary; organization of public meetings; presentation of addresses to the provincial and the central government; collection of signatures under petitions; and the holding of an Assembly of Ruthenian Scholars (Sobor Ruskykh Uchenykh), 19-26 October 1848, to determine guidelines for cultural and educational policies. [320]

The Supreme Ruthenian Council was launched with the blessing of the governor of Galicia, Count Franz Stadion. This brilliant eccentric has been called “a conservative reformer in the style of [Baron von] Stein and Robert Peel,”¹⁸ an exponent of “enlightened conservatism in the spirit of a revised and refined Josephinism.”¹⁹ Appointed to Galicia after the disastrous Polish revolt of 1846, Stadion sought in 1848 to frustrate the irredentism of the Polish gentry and intelligentsia by an appeal to the class interests of the peasants (both Ukrainian and Polish), and by support of Ukrainian national claims. Without waiting for a law applying to the whole empire, on 22 April he abolished by decree the corvee and “hereditary tenancy,” thus stealing the thunder of the Polish democrats, who themselves had intended to claim credit for this necessary and overdue reform. Similarly he established close links with Iakhymovych and the leaders of the Rada, giving the Poles an opportunity for the quip that “Stadion invented the Ruthenians.”

The position of the Galician Ukrainians was analogous to that of the smaller nationalities of Hungary, who also made common cause with the dynasty and the Vienna government against the brand of “liberty” offered them by the Magyar gentry. In the Austrian half of the monarchy the Ukrainians stood closest to the Czechs, those chief defenders of a united empire reorganized on Austro-Slavic lines.²⁰

During the Slavic Congress in Prague a deadlock occurred within the Polish-Ruthenian Section. The Czechs, working behind the scenes, mediated a compromise resolution, adopted by the section on 7 June 1848: the Ukrainians agreed to postpone the issue of Galicia’s division, and the Poles conceded the principle of the equality of the two nations in all administrative and educational matters.²¹ The subsequent forced dissolution of the Slavic Congress buried the resolution of 7 June. Yet it remained, until the reform of the electoral law for the Galician Diet in February 1914, the only instance of a Polish-Ukrainian compromise.

In the Austrian constituent Reichstag, in Vienna and Kromeriz, the Ukrainian deputies usually followed the example and advice of their Czech colleagues. During the debates of the Constitutional Committee, the Pole Florian Ziemialkowski had called the Ruthenians “an artificial nation, invented last year.” He was vigorously refuted by the Czech spokesmen, Frantisek Palacky and Frantisek Ladislav Rieger. Said Rieger on 24 January 1849: “Let us respect the national strivings of a people persecuted by both the Russians and the Poles, and called to an independent existence.”²²

The question of national identity was answered by the Supreme Ruthenian Council in the “Ukrainian” sense, that is, by asserting the distinctness of their people not only from Poland, but from Russia as well. The Rada’s manifesto of 10 May 1848 stated: “We Galician Ruthenians [321] (rusyny halytski) belong to the great Ruthenian people who speak one language and count fifteen millions, of whom two and one-half inhabit the Galician land.”²³ It is, however, noteworthy that in all the pronouncements of the Rada and of its individual leaders we do not find any specific reference to the condition of their compatriots in Russia and to the reciprocal relations of the two parts of the nation, divided between the Russian and the Austrian empires. The politically sophisticated Czech leaders realized the international implications of the Ukrainian revival in Galicia. Rieger said in the Constitutional Committee: “The liberty of the press [in Austria] will give full scope to the Ruthenian element. Their freedom-breathing literature will bring about the melting of the rigid ice of Russian absolutism. . . . This, gentlemen, is the most important thing in the question: the fall of the European despot, the enemy of liberty, is near at hand, once this people enters the ranks of the Slavic peoples.”²⁴ Yet such wider perspectives were absent in the thinking of the leaders of the Supreme Ruthenian Council, men of good will, but timid and provincial in their intellectual outlook.

Another blind spot in the thinking of the Supreme Ruthenian Council was its neglect of social and economic problems. The abolition of the corvee and “hereditary tenancy” still left many issues unsolved: there was the question of indemnity to be paid to the landowners and the question of forests and pastures, which previously had been used jointly by the manors and the villagers and which now were claimed by the former as their exclusive property. These problems were of burning urgency to the peasants. A Ukrainian peasant deputy, Ivan Kapushchak, in an impassioned speech in the Reichstag on 17 August 1848, denied that the demand of indemnity was justified: serfdom was in itself a cruel abuse, and therefore ought not be compensated. “Let them keep the rods and whips with which they used to beat our weary bodies, and may this serve them as indemnity!”²⁵ The speech made a strong impression on the chamber. But the Rada, which consistently advocated the rights of the Greek Catholic Church and clergy and their equality with the “Latin” church and clergy, failed to take into account the social grievances of the bulk of their people.²⁶

The emergence of the Supreme Ruthenian Council was a direct challenge to the Polish claim that Galicia was an organic part of Poland. Polish leaders tried to undermine the Council’s position by opposing to it a body which was supposed to represent a pro-Polish current among the Ruthenians. On 23 May 1848, a Ruthenian Assembly (Ruskyi Sobor) appeared, composed of a handful of Polish noblemen whose families were of Rus’ extraction and of a few Polonized Ukrainian intellectuals. The Sobor started the publication of a paper, in Ukrainian, but with Polish characters, and engaged as its editor Ivan Vahylevych, the former cornpanion [322] of Markiian Shashkevych. But the experiment folded quickly. The bulk of the Ukrainian intelligentsia, grouped around the Rada, denounced the Sobor as a sham. Polish patriots of Ukrainian background, on the other hand, aspired to full membership in Polish society. An irreversible result of the 1848 Revolution was the permanent separation of the Poles and the Ukrainians into two distinct national communities.

The primary practical goal of the Supreme Ruthenian Council was the separation of the Polish and the Ukrainian areas of Galicia into two provinces, formed along ethnic lines. The issue had originally been raised by the Austrian government itself, without any regard to Ukrainian demands, as a punitive measure after the Polish revolt of 1846 and in connection with the annexation of the former Republic of Cracow. This program was energetically pursued by the Supreme Ruthenian Council in 1848. A memorandum was submitted to the Ministry of Interior on 17 July and again on 28 October. In August, a petition with 15,000 signatures brought the matter to the attention of the Reichstag; ultimately 200,000 people signed the petition. The plan was not only vigorously opposed by the Poles, but also became entangled with the wider issue of a territorial reorganization of the whole empire.

Radical proposals of a new administrative structure based on ethnic principles, like the one submitted to the Reichstag’s Constitutional Committee by Palacky, raised a host of conflicting interests and claims.²⁷ The Constitutional Committee decided to retain the historical provinces, but, as a concession to the ethnic point of view, to create within the framework of the provinces new, ethnically homogeneous, self-governing units, named Kreise. These provisions were taken over in the constitution proclaimed, after the forcible suppression of the Reichstag, by imperial fiat on 4 March 1849. After the collapse of its architect, Stadion, however, the constitution of 4 March, like its parliamentary predecessor, remained a dead letter. The historical provinces survived the revolutionary crisis; the compensating Kreise never became a reality. During the neoabsolutist era the government continued for a time to toy with plans for a territorial reorganization of Galicia, but nothing came of it.²⁸

From Neoabsolutism to the Austro-Polish Compromise

The transition to the neoabsolutist decade (1849-59) brought about a decline of overt political activity among all Austrian nationalities. The Supreme Ruthenian Council dissolved in 1851. Its former leaders reverted to predominantly ecclesiastical preoccupations. The internal cohesion of the Ruthenian community was weakened by the internal rift into a Russophile and a Ukrainophile faction. At the same time, a most dangerous opponent arose to the Ruthenian cause in the person of Count Agenor [323] Goluchowski, appointed governor of Galicia in 1849. He was at first scorned by his Polish compatriots as a tool of Vienna. But, as a matter of fact, Goluchowski rendered invaluable services to the Polish cause. He was instrumental in the final defeat of the plans for Galicia’s territorial division. He undermined the central government’s trust in the loyalty of the Ruthenians by denouncing them to Vienna as Russophiles. Furthermore, he filled the ranks of the civil service, which had been predominantly German prior to 1848, with Poles. Goluchowski’s governorship thus smoothed the path for the Polish takeover in 1867.

Austria’s defeat in the Italian war in 1859 led to an era of constitutional experiments. The Galician provincial Diet met for the first time in 1861. The Ruthenian membership was still comparatively strong, one-third of the chamber. But the situation was much less favourable for the Ukrainians than in 1848; the relative strength of the Poles had increased both in the province and in Vienna, and the support of the central government had become vacillating. The leadership of the Ukrainian community rested with the conservative "Old Ruthenians," who were quite unequal to the requirements of a complex and shifting political constellation. Their paternalistic approach to the peasantry prevented them from building up a strong and reliable mass base among their own people, which would have enabled them to brave the storm. They failed to come to terms with the Poles when this might perhaps still have been possible. The Old Ruthenian leaders leaned blindly on the Austrian German centralists, whose exponent was the administration headed by Anton von Schmerling (1861-5).

The period of constitutional experiments came to an abrupt end with Austria’s defeat by Prussia in 1866 and the establishment of the Dualist system. The Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867 found its corollary in the simultaneous Austro-Polish Compromise. The more ambitious Polish plan to obtain a special constitutional position for Galicia miscarried; legally Galicia remained on the same footing as the other "crownlands" of the Austrian half of the Dual Monarchy. Yet for all practical purposes, full control over the land was turned over to the Polish upper classes. The fate of the Ukrainians was similar to that of the non-Magyar nationalities of Hungary. In both cases, the dynasty and the central government sacrificed their loyal supporters of 1848. To one of the chief authors of the Dualist system, Foreign Minister Count Friedrich Ferdinand von Beust, is attributed the saying that “whether and to what extent the Ruthenians may exist is left to the discretion of the Galician Diet."²⁹

A few brief indications must suffice to give an idea of the power structure in Galicia and the respective position of the two nationalities during the Dualist epoch.³⁰ The viceroy of Galicia was always appointed from [324] the Polish aristocracy. In Vienna a special “Minister for Galician Affairs" guarded Polish interests. The electoral system, based on the representation of curiae, or economic groups, secured a strong Polish preponderance both in the provincial Diet and in Galicia’s representation in the Reichsrat (central parliament). Ukrainians could expect to be elected only from the peasant curia, but their share was further reduced by administrative pressure and electoral corruption.³¹ Both the state administration, headed by the viceroy, and the autonomous provincial administration, under the jurisdiction of the Diet, were staffed almost exclusively by Poles, and transacted business in Polish. The land’s two universities, which had been German during the absolutist era, became Polonized (a few Ukrainian chairs remained at Lviv University). The same applied also to secondary education, and for many years the Ukrainians were restricted to a single secondary school (Gymnasium). The entire social, economic, and educational policy was geared to the interests of the Polish ruling class. With only minor changes, this system remained in operation for forty years, until the electoral reform of 1907.

Twenty years after their political debut in 1848, the Galician Ukrainians had suffered a disastrous defeat. What they saved from this shipwreck was very little -- the entrenched position of the Greek Catholic Church, elementary schools in the native languages, a token recognition of their claim to a place in secondary and higher education, certain minimal linguistic rights in their dealings with authorities. However, despite the upper-class bias of the Austrian constitution and the malpractices of the Polish-controlled Galician administration, the Ukrainians in Austria still enjoyed that most important benefit, a constitutional rule of law. They could publish newspapers and books, form associations, hold public meetings, take part in elections (even if against great odds), express their grievances from the parliamentary tribune, and fight legally for the improvement of their position. First, however, they had to learn how to make effective use of these opportunities. This necessitated a profound change of attitude on the part of their leaders; they had to learn how to stand on their own feet politically, not to expect favours from the government, or any outside help, and to rely, first and last, on the organized strength of their own people.

The Nature of the Polish-Ukrainian Conflict

The Polish-Ukrainian relationship was the major internal problem of Galicia. The struggle between the two communities, which broke out overtly in 1848, went on relentlessly with an ever-increasing intensity and bitterness, from year to year and decade to decade. The conflict shaped not only those sections of the Polish and Ukrainian peoples who lived in the Austrian Empire, but also exercised a fateful influence on the [325] historical destiny of all of Poland and Ukraine.

The distribution of nationalities in the province of Galicia, according to the 1910 census, was 47 per cent Roman Catholics (Poles), 42 per cent Greek Catholics (Ukrainians), and 11 per cent Jews. A distinction, however, should be made between western and eastern Galicia, divided approximately by the San River. The former was overwhelmingly, 89 per cent, Polish. The latter was a land of mixed populations: the Ukrainian majority of 62 per cent was faced by Polish and Jewish minorities of 25 and 12 per cent respectively.³² A distinguished Polish social historian made the observation: “The distribution of Poles in eastern Galicia is unfavourable, because they are spread out over the entire area, but with the exception of the city and district of Lviv, they are nowhere in a majority. . . . The Polish population of eastern Galicia is concentrated mostly in the cities and manorial estates.”³³

Whatever one may say about the Polish-Ukrainian conflict, “race” played no role in it. Ethnic intermingling between the two communities had been going on for centuries. The Polish nobility was largely of Rus’ ancestry. On the other hand, hundreds of thousands of Polish peasant settlers had imperceptibly blended with the surrounding Ukrainians. Even in times of sharpening nationalist disputes, intermarriage remained very frequent. There was a saying in Galicia that “the Polish-Ukrainian frontier runs across the marriage bed.”

The identification of the Poles with Roman Catholics, and the Ukrainians with Greek Catholics, requires some qualification. There still existed in the second half of the nineteenth century the vanishing breed of gente Rutheni, natione Poloni: educated Greek Catholics who considered themselves culturally and politically as Poles. On the other hand, there was the much more numerous stratum of the so-called latynnyky (“Latins,” that is, people of Latin rite), Roman Catholic peasants who in language and customs had become assimilated to their Ukrainian fellow villagers. These intermediary groups tended to melt away in the heat of the nationality struggle. Despite these exceptions, religious allegiance provided a simple and clear-cut means of national identification. Uniatism represented a synthesis of Eastern and Western cultural elements. The Galician Ukrainians were the most Westernized branch of Eastern Slavdom. Nevertheless, next to their Polish neighbours they still felt themselves heirs to the Eastern tradition. Thus the line separating the Poles and the Ukrainians in Galicia was an extension of the age-old boundary between the worlds of the Roman and Byzantine civilizations.

The dominant position of the Polish nationality was bolstered by the social privileges of the landed nobility and upper middle class. Conversely, for the Ukrainians, the struggle for national and social emancipation was one. A Polish student could state: “The fact that ‘peasant’ [326] and ‘Ruthenian,’ on the one hand, and ‘Pole’ and ‘squire,’ on the other, have become synonymous, is fatal to us. . . . The social element of the national question tremendously facilitates the Ruthenians’ work of national education of their people, and makes it difficult for us to defend our position.”³⁴

Beyond the clash of actual social interests, there was an invidious conflict on the psychological plane. The outlook of the Polish intelligentsia and middle class was largely derived from the tradition of the gentry. The origins of the Ukrainian intelligentsia were plebeian; every educated Ukrainian was only one or two generations removed from either a parsonage or a peasant hut. Thus even those Polish and Ukrainian groups whose formal education and living conditions were similar displayed a divergent social mentality. Both communities viewed their present conflict in the image of the great seventeenth-century wars between Polish nobles and Ukrainian Cossacks. These stereotypes were reinforced by literature. The talented and extremely popular historical romances of Henryk Sienkiewicz contributed much to the picture in Polish minds of the Ukrainians as rebellious barbarians.

Lastly, the two nations were separated by incompatible political ideologies. Polish political thought took as its point of departure the pre- Partition Commonwealth, in which the corporate unity of the noble class was identical with the unity of the nation. Such an attitude made it extremely difficult for the Poles to reconcile themselves to the idea of a separate Ukrainian nation. The claim that the Ruthenians constituted a nation, in principle endowed with equal rights with the Poles, seemed to the latter preposterous. Hence the inveterate Polish tendency to explain the Ukrainian movement as a foreign “intrigue”: Austrian (Stadion!), Russian or, later, Prussian.

As early as 1833, Waclaw Zaleski, the distinguished collector of folklore, directed a barb against the Ruthenian Triad: “The Slovaks, the Silesians and the Moravians have united with the Czechs; with whom should the Ruthenians unite? Or should we perhaps wish for the Ruthenians to have their own literature? What would happen to German literature if various Germanic tribes attempted to have their own literatures?”³⁵ The Polish democratic leader, Florian Ziemialkowski, proclaimed in January 1849 in the Constitutional Committee of the Austrian Reichstag: “As for Galicia, it belongs to the Polish nationality. . . . Before March 1848 a Ruthenian was a person of Greek, and a Pole a person of Catholic religion. There were Ruthenians and Poles in the same family. It is unnecessary to say who has created the split, but this is a difference of religion, and not of nationality. . . . The Polish language is not that of the Masurians [the ethnically Polish peasants of western Galicia], but is rather a literary language, common to the several [327] tribes inhabiting Galicia, although they talk in their different dialects.”³⁶ The eminent historian, the Reverend Walerian Kalinka, an advisor to Prince Adam Czartoryski, “the uncrowned king of the Polish exiles,” wrote in 1858: “The nations have their age-old boundaries, and it would be foolhardy to want to trespass them. History concentrated the Ruthenian nationality on the far [eastern] side of the Dnieper; its heartland is today in Slobodian Ukraine [province of Kharkiv]. Ukraine of the near [western] side of the Dnieper, conquered and defended by Polish arms, and inhabited by a people from whose bosom the [Polonized] nobility has sprung, is, and, God willing, shall never cease to be, a Polish province.”³⁷ Count Leszek Borkowski stated bluntly in 1868 in the Galician Diet: “Rus’ does not exist. There is only Poland and Moscow.”³⁸

Large segments of Polish public opinion never retreated from this basic position. Others, more flexible and realistic, did so, although grudgingly and slowly. Some Poles considered the possibility of a future Polish-Ukrainian alliance against Russia, of course under Poland’s leadership. This was, for instance, the opinion of the Cracow conservative, Count Stanislaw Tamowski, in 1866: “We must not oppress, but should rather nurture, the Ruthenian nationality here in Galicia, and it will grow strong also on the Dnieper. ... It will remain Rus’, but a Rus’ fraternally united with Poland, and dedicated to one common cause.”³⁹

Left-wing Poles and Ukrainians were temporarily, in the 1870s and 80s, brought together by their common opposition to the ruling conservative regime in Galicia. The outstanding Ukrainian writer and scholar of the period, Ivan Franko (1856-1916), had an important part in the formation of the Polish Peasant Party.⁴⁰ But co-operation tended to break down once the former fringe groups assumed political responsibility.

The Polish position is well summarized by the statement made shortly before the fall of the Austrian Empire not by an extreme nationalist, but by a perceptive scholar of moderate views and a self-proclaimed partisan of Polish-Ukrainian reconciliation: “Polish public opinion looks upon this province as a trust whose splitting up in whatever form is inadmissible; its unity must remain a noli me tangere. . . . The Poles are bound by a sacred obligation to regard Galicia as a ‘historical area’ where they are called to fulfill the duties of the master of the house. . . . [The demand of equal status for the two languages, Polish and Ukrainian] means the wish to create a pretended justice, which would consist in putting on a footing of equality two totally unequal things.”⁴¹ What the Poles were willing to concede to the Ukrainians was, at most, the position of a tolerated minority; but Ukrainian hands had to be permanently kept off the levers of political control, and the educational and economic opportunities of the Ukrainian community were to be carefully restricted in order not to inconvenience the “masters of the house.” [328]

The Ukrainian point of view was formulated by Ivan Franko: “We wish the Poles complete national and political liberty. But there is one necessary condition: they must, once and for all, desist from lording it over us; they must, once and for all, give up any thought of building a ‘historical’ Poland in non-Polish lands, and they must accept, as we do, the idea of a purely ethnic Poland."⁴²

The divergence of national ideologies was too wide to be bridged by compromise. This basic incompatibility often frustrated or delayed the solution of practical issues, which were treated not in a pragmatic way but as pawns in a power struggle. A thick cloud of pent-up emotions and mounting hostility settled over the land.

The Russian and the Ukrainian Idea in Galicia

In 1848 the Galician Ruthenians broke away from the idea of “historical’’ Poland. The next step in their search for national identity was the defining of the contents of their recently rediscovered Rus’ individuality. This question permitted two alternative answers: “All-Russian’’ or “Ukrainian.”⁴³ We have seen that the Supreme Ruthenian Council was in favour of the Ukrainian thesis, but that this decision carried little internal conviction. The issue had indeed a certain air of unreality. Galicia’s contacts with the Russian Empire, including Ukraine, were tenuous, and the intellectual outlook of the Ruthenian intelligentsia, despite an abstract preference for either the All-Russian or Ukrainian ideology, was primarily Austrian and provincial Galician. The question of self-identification overlapped with that of a conservative or liberal-populist orientation in civic and educational work. As early as 1848, in the Assembly of Ruthenian Scholars, the issue came up in embryonic form; the partisans of the vernacular clashed there with those advocating the restoration of Church Slavonic as the language of literature. The problem was not resolved at that time, and for many years the life of the Ukrainian community was bedevilled by linguistic and orthographic controversies, which assumed a partisan political character.

The Old Ruthenian, or Russophile (“Muscophile”), current crystallized in the 1850s. It was nicknamed the “St. George Circle” (sviatoiurtsi), after the Greek Catholic cathedral in Lviv, where several leaders of the group were canons. Support of the Old Ruthenian trend came from the Greek Catholic clergy, and the whole movement was clerical-conservative. The Old Ruthenians wished to oppose to the Polish language not the lowly vernacular, but another language of equal gentility. Church Slavonic seemed the obvious candidate, but the utter impracticality of the scheme soon became evident. Some Old Ruthenian leaders began to point to literary Russian as the linguistic norm, with the argument that natives of Little Russia from seventeenth-century Kievan [329] scholars to Nikolai Gogol had contributed to the making of the Russian literary language. The leading Old Ruthenian publicist, Bohdan Didytsky (1827-1908), devised a theory that Great and Little Russia should have a common written language, pronounced in two different ways, each of which would be admitted as correct.⁴⁴ This was suggested to Didytsky by the circumstance that educated Galicians were able to read Russian, but could not speak it. The idiom the Old Ruthenians actually used in their publications was an odd mixture of Ukrainian, Church Slavonic, and Russian, with Polish and German additions, ironically called iazychiie (jargon) by their opponents. This macaronic language remained the hallmark of the Russophile party for many years.

Another important feature of the Old Ruthenian ideology was the insistence on such formal traits of the Rus’ identity as the Byzantine liturgy, the Julian calendar, and the Cyrillic alphabet with the historic “etymological” spelling. The Russophiles believed that only by upholding these venerable traditions would their people succeed in resisting Polish wiles. The Austrian administration had indeed tried to impose the Latin script on the Galician Ukrainians during Goluchowski’s governorship. This attempt was beaten off by the St. George Circle.⁴⁵ A typical expression of the Old Ruthenian mentality was the “ritualist movement” (obriadovyi rukh) of the 1850s and 60s; its purpose was to purge the Greek Catholic ritual of all “Latin accretions.”⁴⁶

At first, the Old Ruthenians had a certain general, rather vague sympathy for Russia. The ritualistic traits of the Rus’ tradition, which they valued most highly, were common to the entire East Slavic world. Their lack of first-hand experience masked the differences between Russia proper and Ukraine. Their ingrained conservatism made them admire the mighty monarchy of the tsars. But the decisive factor in their Russophilism was an anti-Polish animus. They felt that whatever weakened the unity of the Rus’ world played into the hands of the Polish enemy, and they suspected their populist opponents of collusion with the Poles. The rupture with Polish society was so difficult that the generation of Ruthenian intellectuals which had effected the break tended to lean to the opposite direction. The anti-Polish resentment induced even the surviving member of the Ruthenian Triad, Iakiv Holovatsky, who in his 1846 article had spoken as a Ukrainian “separatist,” now to assume a pro- Russian stand. Appointed in 1848 to the newly created chair of Ruthenian literature at Lviv University, he was forced to resign his professorship because of his participation in the Moscow Slavic Congress of 1867 and ended his days in Russia.

Political events in the 1860s speeded the transformation of Old Ruthenianism into outright Russophilism. The rapprochement between the dynasty and the Poles was a terrible shock to the St. George Circle. It [330] not only destroyed their hopes, but also outraged their moral sense. They felt let down by the emperor and the Vienna government, whom they had loyally served since 1848. In the face of the impending Polish takeover in Galicia, only one hope seemed left: salvation from the East. There was a saying among the Galician Ukrainians: “If we are to drown, we prefer the Russian sea to the Polish swamp.” Austria’s critical international situation made the disintegration of the Empire look probable. At the height of the Austro-Prussian war, in the summer of 1866, several articles appeared in the Old Ruthenian newspaper, Slovo (The Word), which, while stressing loyalty to Austria, at the same time proclaimed the doctrine of the ethnic and cultural unity of the Russian nation “from the Carpathians to the Urals.”⁴⁷

At about the same time, individual Russophile leaders entered into relations with the Russian Pan-Slavists. The liaison man was the Reverend Mikhail Raevsky, chaplain of the Russian embassy in Vienna. He organized a salon for Ruthenian and other Slavic intellectuals and students in the Austrian capital, and through his hands flowed subsidies from the Slavic committees of Moscow and St. Petersburg. The sums which reached Galicia were not large, but this dependence on secret Russian aid helped to keep the key figures of the Russophile party “in line.”⁴⁸

The spontaneous growth of pro-Russian sentiment in the 1860s was not limited to the Galician Ukrainians. All the Slavic nationalities of the Habsburg Empire, with the exception of the Poles, reacted similarly to the Austro-Hungarian Compromise. Even the linguistic theories of the Old Ruthenians, odd as they may seem, were not without parallels among other Slavic peoples. For instance, the Slovak writer and publicist L’udovit Stur proposed the adoption of Russian by all Slavic peoples as a common literary language.⁴⁹ Yet to the Ukrainians the issue possessed certain especially ominous aspects. For them Russophilism was not simply a question of political orientation; it contained a threat to their national identity. The bulk of their people lived within the boundaries of the Russian Empire, which denied the existence of a Ukrainian nationality. The Ukrainian movement there could maintain itself only with difficulty against persecution by the tsarist government and against tremendous societal pressures. If the section of the Ukrainian people who lived outside Russia, and to whom the opportunity of free choice was given, had embraced the ideology of a Russian nation, one and indivisible, this would have doomed the prospects of Ukrainian nationalism. If, on the other hand, the nationalist trend prevailed in Galicia, this was bound to have serious repercussions in east-central Ukraine.

The opponents of the Russophiles were referred to as the Young Ruthenians, or, more commonly, the populists (narodovtsi), the Ukrainophiles, or simply Ukrainians.⁵⁰ Even in the 1850s, voices were raised [331] against the reactionary linguistic policy of the St. George Circle, in favour of the vernacular as a literary language, in accordance with the precepts of the Ruthenian Triad. The populist movement was born, around 1860, under the inspiration of the poems of Taras Shevchenko (1814-61), which were received by young Galician intellectuals as a prophetic revelation: they “enthusiastically read Shevchenko, the first and greatest peasant poet of all Europe.”⁵¹ A programmatic pamphlet published in 1867 summarizes the main points of the populist philosophy: “We are the upholders of the great testament of our unforgettable bard, Taras Shevchenko. ... We are proud of belonging to a nation of fifteen million, whose name is Ruthenians or Ukrainians, and whose country’s name is: our Mother Rus’-Ukraine. . . . Our sworn enemies are the Polish nobility and the Muscovite government. . . . We shall always stand on the side of our poor, rag-covered peasant people.”⁵² The pamphlet professed loyalty to the Greek Catholic Church and the Austrian Empire, but rejected clericalism and servility toward Vienna.

In the 1860s there was an air of youthful romanticism about the narodovtsi. This showed, for instance, in the sporting of Cossack costumes. The first organizational expressions of the movement were semi-secret circles (hromady) among university and Gymnasium students. The populists were joined by a few veterans of the 1848 generation who disapproved of the reactionary policy of the St. George Circle: the Reverend Stefan Kachala (1815-88), Iuliian Lavrivsky (1821-73), and Ivan Borysykevych (1815-82). The leading figures among those who entered public life in the 1860s and 70s, and who may be regarded as the founders of modern Ukrainian nationalism in Galicia, were Danylo Taniachkevych (1842-1900), Omelian Partytsky (1840-95), the brothers Volodymyr (1850-83) and Oleksander Barvinsky (1847-1927), the brothers Omelian (1833-94) and Oleksander Ohonovsky (1848-91), Natal Vakhnianyn (1841-1908), and Iuliian Romanchuk (1842-1932). It is noteworthy that although some were priests, most were not: this was the first generation of Galicia’s Ukrainian lay intelligentsia. The majority became teachers of secondary schools, and the narodovtsi assumed the character of a “professors’ party.”⁵³

Until the 1880s the “Old” party controlled the metropolitan’s consistory, the major Ruthenian institutions (for example, the “National Home” in Lviv, founded in 1849), the leading newspaper Slovo, and the parliamentary representations to the Reichsrat and the Galician Diet. The narodovtsi did not yet feel ready to venture into “high politics,” and concentrated their efforts in the educational field. They were supported, from the outset, by the great majority of the elementary school teachers in the countryside. The populists tried at first to work through the older institutions, controlled by the Russophiles, but co-operation proved [332] impossible. Their first major organizational undertaking was, in 1868, Prosvita (Enlightenment), an association for adult education, which founded reading halls in the villages and published popular literature. Prosvita was the parental body from which, in the course of years, sprang other institutions and organizations. Populism gradually spread among the masses and laid a firm organizational groundwork. The first populist periodical, in 1862, failed, as did repeated later attempts. Only in 1880, thanks to the initiative of Volodymyr Barvinsky, were the narodovtsi able successfully to launch a representative newspaper, Dilo (The Deed), transformed into a daily in 1888. Its title implied a polemic against the Russophile paper, Slovo (The Word).⁵⁴

The dynamism of the populists contrasted with the stagnation of the “Old” party, whose reliance on outside aid had imbued it with a quietist spirit. The turning point came in 1882. The high command of the Russophiles was affected by the treason trial against some of its best-known personalities, among them Adolf Dobriansky (1817-1901), a native of Carpatho-Ukraine, and the Reverend Ivan Naumovych (1826-91), the party’s chief orator and journalist. The trial actually ended in an acquittal, but it showed, at the same time, the duplicity of the Old Ruthenian leaders, who publicly had always asserted their allegiance to the Austrian Empire and the Catholic church while secretly favouring Russia and Orthodoxy.⁵⁵ After the trial, the most compromised defendants, especially Naumovych, emigrated to Russia, thus weakening the movement in Galicia. As another result of the 1882 trial, the Austrian government asked for and obtained the resignation of Metropolitan Iosyf Sembratovych (1821-1900), blamed for having tolerated Russophile propaganda. This was the beginning of the end of the “St. George Circle.” Many ordinary patriots of Old Ruthenian persuasion became painfully aware that Russophilism represented, ideologically and politically, a blind alley. By 1890, the leadership of the Ruthenian community in Galicia had definitely passed to the “Ukrainians,” while the Russophile camp showed signs of disintegration.

The Emergence of the Radicals

As more and more former Old Ruthenians passed over to the populists, the latter assumed a more conservative and clerical colouring. It was a deliberate policy of the Barvinsky brothers to make the Ukrainian national idea palatable to the Greek Catholic clergy, still the leading element in Galician Ukrainian society. In this they succeeded, but, as a result, the Ukrainian national movement sloughed off much of its original democratism and non-conformism. Such a tame, “respectable” version of populism could no longer satisfy the bolder minds of the young generation. Repeating the pattern of the 1860s, a new youth movement [333] emerged among the students in the second half of the 1870s. The outstanding members of the group were Ivan Franko, Mykhailo Pavlyk (1853-1915), and Ostap Terletsky (1850-1902). The Weltanschauung of the “Radicals,” as they called themselves, was one of positivism and non-Marxian socialism. Their informal circle was construed by the authorities as a revolutionary conspiracy. The trial of Franko and his friends, in 1878, was the first anti-socialist trial in Galicia. The Radicals had to suffer not only persecution by the Austro-Polish administration, but also the ostracism of their own compatriots, who were particularly shocked by the militant agnosticism of the youthful rebels. In spite of many hardships and setbacks, the Radical trend maintained itself through the 1880s, producing pamphlets and short-lived journals.⁵⁶

Growing contacts with Russia and east-central Ukraine were instrumental in overcoming Russophile myths. Typical in this respect were the experiences of Kornylo Ustiianovych, the painter and poet, as related with many colourful details in his reminiscences. As a student he had belonged to the Raevsky circle in Vienna, and was an ardent “Pan- Russian.” He visited the country of his dreams, in 1867 and 1872, to find out that the Galician Ruthenians, despite all their handicaps, enjoyed constitutional liberties far beyond the reach of Russian subjects. He saw that tsarism, admired by the St. George Circle from afar, was scorned by the best elements of Russian society. And he convinced himself that, all official denials to the contrary, the Russians and Ukrainians were essentially different, and that the latter suffered national oppression. Ustiianovych returned from Russia a determined Ukrainian nationalist.⁵⁷ This was by no means an isolated case. The eminent eastern Ukrainian scholar and civic leader Mykhailo Drahomanov (1841-95), professor at the Kiev University, and after 1876 an exile in Switzerland, tells in his “Autobiography”: “I conceived [c. 1872] the plan of spreading the Ukrainian trend in Galicia with the aid of modern Russian literature, which by its secularist and democratic character would undermine Galician clericalism and bureaucratic spirit. This would make young intellectuals turn to the demos, which is Ukrainian there, and Ukrainian national consciousness would follow by itself. ... I dare to say that no Slavophile from Moscow had distributed as many Russian books in Austria as did I, a Ukrainian ‘separatist’."⁵⁸ The plan succeeded brilliantly when in 1876, under Drahomanov’s influence, the Russophile student organization of Lviv adopted a Ukrainian platform. Through his writings and an extensive correspondence, Drahomanov acted as a mentor of Franko and other progressive Galician intellectuals. He may be regarded as the spiritual father of the Radical movement there; he not only formulated its program, but also advised its leaders on current questions of policy. Drahomanov himself said retrospectively, in 1894: “Of all [334] parts of our country, Rus’- Ukraine, Galicia has become to me equally as dear as my own region of Poltava; it has become my spiritual homeland.”⁵⁹

Relations between “Dnieper” (east-central) Ukraine and Galicia, whose educated classes were bred in different intellectual traditions, were fraught with psychological difficulties. In spite of this, collaboration was a vital necessity for both regions of Ukraine. For Galicia, it was necessary because the Habsburgs’ Ukrainians derived formative ideas from Dnieper Ukraine; for the Dnieper Ukrainians, because Galicia was a sanctuary from tsarist persecution. After the Ukase of Ems (1876), which prohibited Ukrainian cultural activity in the Russian Empire, Galicia became, for thirty years, the place of publication of works of eastern Ukrainian writers. Journals such as Pravda (The Truth, 1867-96, with interruptions) and Zoria (The Star, 1880-97), which appeared in Lviv, united local and Dnieper Ukrainian contributors. Funds collected by eastern Ukrainian donors were used for the foundation of the Shevchenko Society of Lviv (1873), which later evolved into a representative, all- Ukrainian scholarly institution. Modern Ukrainian nationalism owes much of its character to the interaction of Dnieper Ukraine and Galicia. An example of this was the elaboration of a standard literary language based on the Poltava dialect, but incorporating significant Galician elements, particularly in scientific, political, and business vocabulary.⁶⁰ In the 1890s Galician Ruthenians embraced the terms “Ukraine,” “Ukrainian,” as their national name. Such a change in nomenclature had obvious inconveniences, but it was dictated by the desire to stress moral unity with Dnieper Ukraine, and also by the determination to prevent any further confusion of “Rus’ ” with “Russia.”

An eastern Ukrainian leader, speaking in his memoirs of his first trip to Galicia in 1903, observed: “At that time, Galicia was for us a model in the struggle for our nation’s rebirth; it strengthened our faith and hope for a better future. Galicia was a true ‘Piedmont’ of Ukraine, for prior to 1906 a Ukrainian press, scholarship, and national life could develop only there.”⁶¹ The “Piedmont complex” -- the conviction that their small homeland was called to take the forefront of the whole nation’s struggle for liberation -- occupied a large place in the thinking of the Galician Ukrainians on the eve of the Great War.

“The Ukrainian Conquest”⁶²

“As nothing gives more pleasure to a doctor than to observe the gradual recovery of a patient . . . similarly the greatest pleasure of a historian is to watch the rebirth of a nation which from a morally and politically degraded state advances toward a normal life.”⁶³ These words of Franko, a distinguished contemporary witness, may be supplemented by the [335] statement of a historian writing in the inter-war period: “In a short stretch of twenty years preceding the Great War, a tremendous change has taken place in eastern Galicia: in the place of a depressed peasant mass arose a politically conscious peasant nation.” The same historian, in comparing the balance of strength of Galicia’s two nationalities, concluded that “although the Polish upper class considerably surpassed the Ukrainian leading circles in culture and material power, the Ukrainian peasantry, on the other side, were superior to the Polish peasantry [of western Galicia] in national consciousness, civic spirit, discipline, and even in culture and morality.”⁶⁴

Toward the end of the century Galicia went through a grave economic crisis. “A dozen and more years after the administration of the province had passed completely into Polish hands, it was still one of the poorest crownlands of the monarchy. . . . There is no doubt that during the first twenty-five years of Polish rule little was done to raise the country from poverty, and that Galicia’s [Polish] great landowners and bourgeoisie showed insufficient economic and social initiative.”⁶⁵ Some 40 per cent of Galicia’s territory belonged to the latifundia. The yield of agriculture was the lowest of all Austrian provinces. The peasants used primitive, almost medieval, implements and methods of production. The countryside was entangled in a tragic net of illiteracy, usury, and alcoholism. The progress of urbanization and industrialization was slow; at the turn of the century the number of industrial workers had not yet reached 100,000. Mounting population pressure caused endemic famine; approximately 50,000 people died every year of malnutrition. The Vienna government showed little interest in the development of a distant and strategically exposed province. The provincial Diet and administration combined incompetence with callousness.⁶⁶

The new militancy of the Ukrainian masses was dramatically expressed in the agrarian strikes which, in 1902, encompassed over 400 village communities in twenty districts of eastern Galicia. The peasants refused their labour to the manorial estates, trying to obtain improved wages and more humane treatment. The strike movement had started spontaneously, but organization and guidance was soon given to it by the Ukrainian political parties.⁶⁷

Other forms of economic self-help were less spectacular, but perhaps more effective in the long run. Population pressure was eased by emigration overseas, mostly to the United States, in part also to Canada and Brazil. It is calculated that from 1890 to 1913 approximately 700,000 to 800,000 Austro-Hungarian Ukrainians (from Galicia and Transcarpathia) left the country; this amounted to between a third and a half of the total population increase for the period.⁶⁸ Of importance also was the movement of seasonal workers to various European countries, mostly [336] Germany. About 75,000 migrants went there on the average every year from 1907 to 1912.⁶⁹ Ukrainian organizations made agreements with German authorities concerning the recruitment and working conditions of the migrants, which the Polish press interpreted as evidence of a Prussian- Ukrainian, anti-Polish “intrigue.” Both American immigrants and European seasonal workers were able to save money, a large proportion of which was sent back home. Cash appeared for the first time in the hands of the eastern Galician peasants. This was used for purchase of land. The large estates were frequently badly managed and deeply in the red. The process of breaking up the latifundia among small-holders was known as “parcelling” (German Parzellierung) . This involved complicated legal and credit operations. Moreover, it also had political overtones: Polish leaders used “parcelling” to bring to eastern Galicia settlers from the western part of the province. The Ukrainians formed a special Land Bank in 1908. The percentage of eastern Galician land in great estates decreased from 40.3 per cent in 1889 to 37.8 per cent in 1912.⁷⁰ Simultaneously, the Ukrainian co-operative movement made spectacular advances.⁷¹ Its modest beginnings lay back in the 1880s, and it gained momentum in the 1890s. By 1914 the whole country was covered with a tight network of credit unions, co-operative stores, associations for the purchase of agricultural products, co-operative dairies, and so forth. The association Silskyi Hospodar (The Farmer) spread agricultural instruction. A Polish observer noted: “Militant ‘Ukrainianism’ has secured in them [the co-operatives] a number of entrenched strongholds and many outposts, and their work has contributed greatly to the rise of a nationalist spirit among the masses. Practical peasant minds can be most easily attracted to a movement when they see that it coincides with their vital, everyday interests.”⁷² Similar conclusions were reached by a Russian student of the nationality problems of the Austro-Hungarian Empire: “The lot of the Galician peasant is a hard one, and ... he needs aid from the educated class. Neither the Polish gentry nor the ‘Muscophiles,’ who expected salvation from a mythical Russian intervention, gave this needed aid. There is no question that the ‘Ukrainians’ have done a praiseworthy job.”⁷³

The veteran Prosvita association continued to expand. In 1914 it counted 77 branches and nearly 3,000 local reading halls. Private Ukrainian schools supplemented the deficiencies of the public educational system, especially in the field of secondary and trade schools. In the last pre-war decade there was also an upswing of the gymnastic and sport associations Sokil (Falcon, following the well-known Czech model) and Sich (named after the Cossack stronghold of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries). Assessing the achievements of two decades, Franko in 1907 reached an optimistic conclusion: “Our impoverished [337] people, who for many years were the object of systematic exploitation and stultification, have by their own strength and energy pulled themselves out of this humiliating condition. . . . They look with cheerful confidence toward a better future.”⁷⁴

Besides the mobilization of the people, the progress of the Ukrainian community involved the development of an intellectual life corresponding to the needs of a diversified, modern society. Two men were leaders in this endeavour, Ivan Franko and Mykhailo Hrushevsky (1866-1934).⁷⁵ Franko was amazingly productive and versatile. He made outstanding contributions as poet, novelist, literary historian and critic, translator, student of folklore, and political publicist. He was also a living model of intellectual integrity and selfless civic service. A university career had been denied him because of his radical views, but he acted as a mentor to the rising generation of writers and intellectuals. Hrushevsky was a native of Dnieper Ukraine. Appointed in 1894 to the newly established Ukrainian-language chair of East European history at Lviv University, he deployed there an activity which has well been called “gigantic.” His standard History of Ukraine-Rus reached the eighth volume by 1913. Elected president of the reorganized Shevchenko Scientific Society, he raised it to the level of an unofficial Ukrainian Academy of Sciences. “For sixteen years (1897-1913) Hrushevsky stood at the helm of the Shevchenko Scientific Society, and during that time the society gained wide recognition in the world of scholarship, published hundreds of volumes . . . built up a large library and a museum, gathered around itself scores of Ukrainian scholars. . . . While lecturing at Lviv University, Hrushevsky trained several scholars who later made great contributions to Ukrainian historiography.”⁷⁶ Next to Drahomanov, Hrushevsky was the eastern Ukrainian who made the strongest impact on Galicia. Franko and Hrushevsky collaborated closely in the Shevchenko Society and on the editorial board of the monthly Literaturno-naukovyi vistnyk (Literary and Scientific Herald), founded in 1898. This journal united the best literary talent of Russian and Austrian Ukraine, and exercised great influence as an organ of opinion.

Relations between the Ukrainian national movement and the Greek Catholic Church had not been happy in the second half of the nineteenth century. Authoritative circles of the clergy favoured the Old Ruthenian trend while, at the same time, Uniate metropolitans and bishops often displayed obsequiousness toward the province’s Austro-Polish administration. Clerical tutelage over the society was resented by the growing lay intelligentsia, and militant anticlericalism was one of the chief driving forces of the Radical movement. A new chapter opened with the elevation of Count Andrei Sheptytsky (1865-1944) to the Metropolitan See of Halych.⁷⁷ A descendant of a Polonized family which had produced [338] several Uniate bishops, Sheptytsky reverted to the Eastern rite and was made metropolitan when only thirty-five, in 1900. Sheptytsky is universally recognized as one of the outstanding Slavic churchmen of the century. His pastoral labours cannot be discussed here; it suffices to mention his founding of new monastic orders, liturgical reforms, and promotion of theological studies. While keeping aloof from current politics, Sheptytsky rendered great services to the Ukrainian cause by the tactful use of his connections in Vienna, and also as a generous patron of the arts. In 1910 Sheptytsky delivered a great speech in the Austrian House of Lords in support of the creation of a Ukrainian university in Lviv. Intellectually alert and aware of the needs of the times, he encouraged the clergy’s participation in civic life. The fact that the Greek Catholic Church was now headed by a grand seigneur who was also an impressive, colourful personality gave a new self-assurance to the Ukrainian national movement. Sheptytsky, however, was not a narrow nationalist but a man of supranational vision: the idea to which he had dedicated his life was the reconciliation of Western and Eastern Christianity. This implied a respect for all the traits of the Oriental religious tradition compatible with Catholic dogma. He made several incognito trips to Russia, and kept in touch with Russian groups sympathetic to the idea of union.

The “New Era” and the Formation of Ukrainian Political Parties

The year 1890 brought an attempt at a Polish-Ukrainian compromise, known as the “New Era.”⁷⁸ The origins of that important episode were complex, and they stretched from Vienna to Kiev. The period was marked by growing tension between Russia and Austria-Hungary, and there was a possibility of Galicia’s soon becoming a theater of military operations. The Austrian minister of foreign affairs, Count Gustav von Kalnoky, advised the viceroy of Galicia, Count Kazimierz Badeni, to placate the Ruthenians. Volodymyr Antonovych (1834-1908), a professor at Kiev University, an eminent historian, and a leader of the national movement in Dnieper Ukraine, also intervened in Galician affairs. The prospects of Ukrainian nationalism in the Russian Empire seemed bleak then, and Antonovych was concerned with the strengthening of the sanctuary in Galicia. In this his views coincided with those of his former friend and rival of many years, the exile Drahomanov. But the approaches of the two men diverged. Drahomanov connected Ukrainian national gains in Galicia with political democratization, defence of the social interests of the peasantry, and anticlericalism; this implied a struggle against the conservative Austro-Polish regime. Antonovych, on the other hand, believed that the consent of the Polish ruling circles was essential for the satisfaction of pressing Ukrainian cultural needs. Some spokesmen of the Polish minority in Dnieper Ukraine, who favoured the idea of [339] a Polish-Ukrainian collaboration against Russia, served as intermediaries between the group headed by Antonovych, the so-called “Kievan Hromada,” and the authoritative Polish aristocratic circle in the Austrian Empire. Antonovych’s chief contact among his Galician compatriots was the leader of the moderate Populists, Oleksander Barvinsky. Preliminary negotiations, which were shrouded in secrecy, took place in Lviv and Kiev.

The New Era was inaugurated in November 1890 by an exchange of declarations of good will between Governor Badeni and the spokesmen of the narodovtsi in the Diet. No precise terms had, however, been agreed upon. Thus the attempt at compromise was, from the very first, vitiated by a basic misunderstanding. The Poles were willing to make certain minor concessions to the Ukrainians in the field of education and linguistic rights. For instance, Antonovych was to be appointed to a newly created Ukrainian-language chair of history at Lviv University. Antonovych declined, and designated his most brilliant disciple, the young Hrushevsky. But what the narodovtsi had expected was a change in the political system, and this was not forthcoming. Soon the Ukrainians felt that they had been deceived, while the Poles were incensed over the ingratitude and lack of moderation of their partners. By 1894 the New Era had petered out. The elections to the Diet, in 1895, and to the central parliament, in 1897, took place under conditions of shocking administrative abuse, unusual even in Galicia.⁷⁹ But the Ukrainian movement could no longer be intimidated. The indignation provoked by the “Badeni elections” was the signal for beginning of a general Ukrainian offensive against the existing regime in Galicia.

The New Era had stirred up Ukrainian public opinion and led to a regrouping of political forces. The first to organize were the Radicals, who, in 1890, created the Ruthenian-Ukrainian Radical Party.⁸⁰ After the death in 1895 of Drahomanov, whose authority had kept the movement together, both the nationalist wing (including Ivan Franko) and the Marxist wing broke away from the Radical party. The nationalistically oriented former Radicals merged with the populists, most of whom by that time had abandoned the New Era policy. In 1899, the rejuvenated narodovtsi formed the Ukrainian National-Democratic Party.⁸¹ From that time on, a two-party system was in operation among the Ukrainians. The National Democrats were in strong preponderance, the Radicals forming a permanent opposition. In the Reichsrat and the Diet, however, both parties mostly worked together. The National Democrats were a broad coalition party, perhaps comparable to the Congress Party of India, and included a spectrum of shades, from near-socialists to Greek Catholic priests. The common platform, in whose formulation Franko and Hrushevsky had a hand, was one of democratic nationalism and social [340] reform. The leaders of the party were Iuliian Romanchuk, Kost Levytsky (1859-1941), Ievhen Olesnytsky (1860-1917), Teofil Okunevsky (1858-1937), and Ievhen Petrushevych (1863-1940). After the separation of the right- and left-wing dissidents, the Radicals continued as a party of agrarian socialism and militant anticlericalism. Its character may be defined as standing halfway between the Russian Socialist Revolutionaries and the peasant parties of east-central Europe. Its leaders, besides the old guardian of Drahomanovian orthodoxy, Mykhailo Pavlyk, were Lev Bachynsky (1872-1930), Kyrylo Trylovsky (1864-1941), and Ivan Makukh (1872-1946). Most leaders of both parties were lawyers by profession, but there was in that generation also a remarkable crop of “peasant politicians,” talented orators and organizers risen from the masses. The program of the National-Democratic Party stated: “The final goal of our striving is the achievement of cultural, economic, and political independence by the entire Ukrainian-Ruthenian nation, and its future unification in one body politic.”⁸² A similar statement was in the program of the Radicals. This was, at that time, a distant ideal rather than a practical goal, but the proclamation of the principle of an independent national state by the major Ukrainian parties in Galicia was a turning point in the evolution of Ukrainian political thought.

The two minor parties, the Social Democrats, with a Marxist program, and the conservative Christian Social Party, exercised only limited influence, but they included some respected personalities and stimulated ideological discussions. Ukrainian Social Democrats played a certain role in the trade-union movement, which was making its first steps in Galicia; the trade unions were nationally mixed, but in them too there was a perceptible tension between the Polish and Ukrainian factions.⁸³

Political Struggles, 1900-1914

From the turn of the century until the eve of the Great War, a great political battle was fought unremittingly in Galicia. It is impossible, in the framework of this paper, to discuss the episodes of the struggle. This was a time when elections, either to the Reichsrat or to the Diet, were taking place at frequent intervals. Each election was accompanied by a wave of mass rallies, demonstrations, and clashes with the police, which in turn led to arrests and trials. Parliamentary oratorical duels were accompanied by complicated behind-the-scenes negotiations on the provincial level and in Vienna. Political struggle overlapped with social strife, such as the agrarian strikes. Simultaneously, the Ukrainian community was engaged in building its cultural and economic institutions. One has to turn to contemporary fiction to get the feeling of the deep groundswell which was running through the Ukrainian people.⁸⁴ A symptom of this excitement was the assassination of the viceroy of Galicia, Count [341] Andrzej Potocki, by a Ukrainian student, Myroslav Sichynsky (1887-1980) in 1908. This was, however, an individual act, not the outcome of a plot. The Ukrainian movement, despite its increased militancy, continued to adhere to legal and evolutionary methods.

Beginning with a series of mass rallies in 1900, Ukrainian agitation concentrated on the issue of electoral reform: the abolition of the curiae, and introduction of the universal, secret, and direct ballot. Many other groups in Austria desired a democratization of the franchise, and, under the impact of the 1905 Russian Revolution and in connection with difficulties with Hungary, this cause was espoused by the imperial government. The reform became law in January 1907. “One Slav national group, the Ruthenians, was the chief winner in the franchise reform, by more than trebling its previous parliamentary representation at the expense of the Poles. Still, the new Ruthenian quota remained less than half the representation due them on the basis of the proportional system.”⁸⁵ Through a gerrymandering of electoral districts, one Reichsrat seat was granted to the Poles in proportion to 52,000, and to the Ukrainians to 102,000 inhabitants. In the parliamentary elections of 1907 the Ukrainians gained twenty-seven seats in Galicia (seventeen National Democrats, three Radicals, two Social Democrats, and five Russophiles), and five seats in Bukovyna. In the cities, there was an electoral alliance between the Ukrainians and the Zionists; with the support of Ukrainian votes, two nationalist Jewish deputies appeared for the first time in the Vienna parliament.

The problem which dominated the Galician political scene for the next six years, 1907-13, was reform of the provincial statute, especially of the Diet’s franchise.⁸⁶ Three parties were involved: the Ukrainians, the Poles, and Vienna. The central government regarded a Polish-Ukrainian compromise as highly desirable because of the threat of war with Russia. Moreover, since 1907 the Ukrainians had become a powerful factor in the Reichsrat. While suggesting to the Poles a conciliatory policy, and offering its good offices as a mediator, the central government did not intend to impose a new provincial statute from above. The reform was to come as the result of an agreement between Galicia’s two nationalities. A “compromise” meant, however, under the given conditions, the Poles’ abdication of their monopoly of power in Galicia. As a Polish publicist acutely observed, the chief difficulty consisted in the lack of a basis for a quid pro quo.⁸⁷ Whatever the Poles as a nationality could desire in Austria was already their own. Polish public opinion violently resisted the idea of making unilateral sacrifices without receiving compensation. Also, the dynamic nature of the Ukrainian movement made it evident that concessions which the Poles might consider acceptable if they were to be final would rather turn out to be a down payment, and that the [342] Ukrainians would soon come up with further demands. A deadlock ensued on the question of the provincial statute’s reform. To force the hand of the Polish majority of the Diet, the Ukrainian members repeatedly had recourse to “musical obstruction” (1910-12): armed with whistles, trumpets, and drums, they raised an uproar which completely disrupted the Diet’s work. The provincial legislative machinery had come to a virtual standstill.

The other major issue, besides franchise reform, was the question of the founding of a Ukrainian university.⁸⁸ At Lviv University there existed, in 1914, ten Ukrainian-language chairs. The original Ukrainian plan had been gradually to increase the number of these chairs, and thus to prepare the future division of the school into two independent institutions, a Polish and a Ukrainian one, as Prague University had been divided into a Czech and German school. This, however, was prevented by the refusal of the university administration to create additional Ukrainian chairs and to admit the “habitation” of Ukrainian scholars. From 1901 the Ukrainians concentrated their efforts on the foundation of a new, separate university. Lviv University became the scene of clashes between the school administration and Ukrainian students and of brawls between Polish and Ukrainian students. In 1912 the Austrian government promised to create a Ukrainian university in Galicia by 1916, but Polish objections delayed the implementation of the decision.

During the last pre-war years the Russophile trend entered its final transformation. Its traditionalist, “Old Ruthenian” wing had all but disappeared by that time. The remaining hard core, under the leadership of Volodymyr Dudykevych (1861-1922), abandoned the macaronic iazychiie and attempted to square theory with practice by introducing literary Russian in its publications, at least in those for the educated class. A lease on life was given to moribund Russophilism by outside aid. The viceroys Leon Pininski (1898-1903) and Andrzej Potocki (1903-8), wishing to divert the rising Ukrainian tide, threw their support to the Russophiles. The latter also received financial and moral aid from Russia. After the failure of its Far Eastern designs (1905), imperial Russia returned to an active policy in the Danubian-Balkan area. The tsarist government was also worried about the impact of Ukrainian nationalism in Galicia on the population of Russia’s south-western provinces. At the 1908 Slavic Congress in Prague, “a Polish-Russian pact was concluded concerning the attitude toward Ukraine. . . . The gist of the pact was that the national movement of the Ukrainians in Galicia ought to be impeded and combated [by the Poles]. As a counterpart, the Russian government promised in general terms to satisfy Polish national needs [in Congress Poland].”⁸⁹ With abundant financial means provided by Russia and with the tacit toleration of many Polish officials, the “Galician Russians” [343] conducted a brisk propaganda, out of proportion with their real strength.⁹⁰ The decline of Russophilism was reflected in their continual loss of votes. In the last elections to the Diet in 1913, only one Russophile deputy was elected, as against thirty-one seats gained by the Ukrainian parties. Yet this did not deter the Russophile leaders. Having lost the competition for the minds of the people, they staked their hopes on the coming Russian invasion. A well-qualified Polish observer stated: “This [Russophile] trend ought to be regarded as an outpost of the Russian government in our land. ... A comparison of the Ruthenian national institutions with those of the Muscophiles shows conclusively that the former result from the natural development of a people full of strength and vitality, eager to expand its achievements in breadth and depth; the latter, on the other hand, are an artificial product, planted from outside, without a firm foundation and future.”⁹¹

By 1913 a Polish-Ukrainian agreement concerning the provincial statute reform seemed near at hand. The opposing camps had reached the point of exhaustion in their negotiations, and Vienna was prodding for a settlement.⁹² A last-minute delay occurred when Viceroy Michal Bobrzynski, the architect of the compromise, was forced to resign by an intrigue of the Polish opponents of the reform. Negotiations, however, went on. A decisive role in the smoothing away of the last difficulties was played by Metropolitan Sheptytsky. The Diet finally passed the reform bill on 14 February 1914. The new provincial statute, which embodied most features of the preceding year’s compromise platform, was a marvel of complexity. It retained the system of representation by curiae, and established within each curia the ratio of Polish and Ukrainian seats. 93 The Ukrainians were to receive 62 seats out of 228, or 27 per cent of the membership of the Diet. This was the same ratio as obtained in Galicia’s representation to the Reichsrat, according to the 1906 law. The Ukrainians were also the obtain two places on the eight-person Provincial Board (.Landesauschuss), and to be represented on the various committees of the Diet. The Polish and Ukrainian members of the Provincial Board and of the committees were to be separately elected by the Diet’s deputies of each nationality.

The implications of the reform were greater than its rather modest explicit terms. The provincial statute of 1914 was the first instance of a Polish-Ukrainian compromise; the agreement reached at the 1848 Slavic Congress in Prague had remained on paper, and the 1890 New Era had foundered on a basic reciprocal misunderstanding. The 1914 compromise did not grant the Ukrainians what they felt to be their due, but at least it broke the monopoly of power which the Poles had had in Galicia since 1867. The Ukrainians were now to become partners in the provincial government, from which they had previously been virtually ex- [344] excluded. Moreover, the Poles would no longer be able to discriminate against the educational and cultural advancement of the Ukrainian community. It had been a consistent policy of the Polish-dominated Diet to restrict the creation of Ukrainian secondary schools.⁹⁴ Now control over Ukrainian elementary and secondary education was to be taken from Polish hands. As an immediate result of the changed situation, the opening of ten new Ukrainian secondary schools was planned for the fall term of 1914. As part of the compromise, the Polish side promised to desist from further obstruction against the creation of a Ukrainian university in Lviv.⁹⁵ There was at that time a universal feeling that the compromise of February 1914 amounted to a turning point in the history of Galicia’s two nationalities.

It is possible to extrapolate Galicia’s further development, assuming that the Austrian regime had lasted. It is not likely that the Ukrainians would in the foreseeable future have been able to achieve their major goal -- the province’s partition on ethnic lines -- because that issue depended on a territorial-administrative reorganization of the whole empire. But the balance of power in the undivided province was bound to shift considerably once the artificial handicaps on the Ukrainians were removed. With the continued economic and educational progress of the masses, and the accelerated formation of a native intelligentsia and middle class, political preponderance in eastern Galicia was likely to pass to the Ukrainians in the course of ten to twenty years. A Polish scholar prognosticated in 1908: “Our prospects in eastern Galicia are unfavourable. The fate of the English nationality in Ireland, of the German in Czech lands, and the probable future fate of the German nationality in Upper Silesia serve us as a bad augury.”⁹⁶

The Coming of the War

The threat of a European war had loomed on the political horizon ever since 1908. In 1912, 200 leading members of the National-Democratic, Radical, and Social-Democratic parties met in a conclave to discuss the international crisis caused by the Balkan War. The meeting issued a declaration (11 December 1912) which reaffirmed the loyalty of the Galician Ukrainians to the Austrian Empire and promised to support actively the Austrian cause in the event of a war against Russia.⁹⁷ From that time, the I gymnastic associations Sich and Sokil, following the example of earlier Polish efforts, started the military training of their members in view of the coming struggle against Russia.

When the war came, in the summer of 1914, Galicia’s three leading Ukrainian parties formed a Supreme Ukrainian Council (Holovna Ukrainska Rada), electing as its president Kost Levytsky, the chairman of the National Democrats. On 3 August, the council issued a manifesto [345] to the Ukrainian people.⁹⁸ The manifesto’s salient points read: “The Russian tsars have violated the Treaty of Pereiaslav [1654] by which they undertook the obligation to respect the independence of Ukraine. . . . For three hundred years the policy of the tsarist empire has been to rob subjugated Ukraine of her national soul, to make the Ukrainian people a part of the Russian people. . . . The victory of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy shall be our own victory. And the greater Russia’s defeat, the sooner will strike the hour of liberation for Ukraine.’’ The first practical step of the Council was to sponsor the creation of a legion, named “Ukrainian Sich Sharpshooters’’ (Ukrainski Sichovi Striltsi), which was to form a distinct unit within the Austrian Army and serve as the nucleus of a future Ukrainian national army.⁹⁹

The policy of the council was supported by a group of emigres from Dnieper Ukraine residing in Galicia. On 4 August they founded a political organization, the Union for the Liberation of Ukraine (Soiuz Vyzvolennia Ukrainy), purporting to speak in the name of east-central Ukraine. The leading members of the Union were Oleksander Skoropys Ioltukhovsky (1880-1950), Volodymyr Doroshenko (1879-1963), Andrii Zhuk (1880-1968), and Mariian Melenevsky (1878-?). The platform of the organization called for the creation of an independent Ukrainian state with a constitutional-monarchical form of government, a democratic franchise, and a policy of agrarian reform.¹⁰⁰ It is important to realize that the attitude of the Galician Ukrainians and of the emigre Union was by no means shared by the spokesmen of the Ukrainian movement in Russia. They had never been “separatist,’’ and they believed that the future of the Ukrainian people was in a democratic and federated Russia. An outstanding representative of the federalist tradition in Ukrainian political thought was Mykhailo Hrushevsky. Although a professor at the University of Lviv, he had retained his Russian citizenship, and at the outbreak of hostilities he voluntarily returned to Russia.

In 1914 Galicia had been an Austrian province for 141 years. At the outbreak of the war only a few people guessed that this was the beginning of the end of an historical epoch. [346]

Notes

1. S. Rudnyckyj, Ukraina: Land and Volk (Vienna 1916), 143-6.

2. On Galicia’s agrarian and peasant problems, until 1848: I. Franko, “Panshchyna ta ii skasuvannia v 1848 r. v Halychyni” (1913), Tvory v dvadtsiaty tomakh (Kiev 1956), 19:560-661; L. von Mises, Die Entwicklung des gutsherrlichbauerlichen Verhaltnisses in Galizien (1722-1848), in Wiener staatswissenschaftliche Studien (Vienna 1903), v. 4, pt. 2; M. P. Herasymenko, Ahrarni vidnosyny v Halychyni v period kryzy panshchynnoho hospodarstva (Kiev 1959); R. Rozdolski, Stosunki poddancze w dawnej Galicji, 2 vols. (Warsaw 1962).

3. Rozdolski, Stosunki poddancze, 1:261.

4. Franko, Tvory, 19:585.

5. On ecclesiastical developments, particularly during the early decades of Austrian rule: J. Pelesz, Geschichte der Union der ruthenischen Kirche mit Rom, 2 vols. (Wurzburg and Vienna 1878-80), esp. v. 2; A. Korczok, Die griechischkatholische Kirche in Galizien (Leipzig 1921); E. Winter, Byzanz und Rom im Kampf um die Ukraine (Leipzig 1942); I. L. Nazarko, Kyivski i halytski mytropolyty, in Analecta Ordinis S. Basilii Magni, v. 13, series 2, sect. 1 (Rome 1962).

6. M. Stasiw, Metropolia Haliciensis: Eius historia et iuridica forma, in Analecta Ordinis S. Basilii Magni, 2d ed., v. 12, series 2, sect. 1 (Rome 1960).

7. The text of Lev Sheptytsky’s secret memorandum is reprinted in W. Chotkowski, Historya polityczna kosciola w Galicyi za rzadow Maryi Teresy (Cracow 1909), 2:513-15.

8. Pelesz, Geschichte der Union, 2:875-82.

9. A first-hand account of the Shashkevych circle is found in the reminiscences of Ia. Holovatsky, “Perezhitoe i perestradannoe” (1881), in Pysmennyky Zakhidnoi Ukrainy 30-50-kh rokiv XIX st. (Kiev 1965), 229-85. From the extensive literature on the Galician “Awakeners” the following works are of interest to a student of social thought: I. Zanevych (O. Terletsky), “Literaturni stremlinnia halytskykh rusyniv vid 1772 do 1872,” Zhytie i slovo, vols. 1-4 (Lviv 1892-5); H. Iu. Herbilsky, Rozvytok prohresyvnykh idei v Halychyni v pershii polovyni XIX st. (Lviv 1964); J. Kozik, Ukrainski ruch narodowy w Galicji w latach 1830-1848 (Cracow 1973); and M. Tershakovets, Halytsko-ruske literaturne vidrodzhenie (Lviv 1908).

10. Zanevych, “Literaturni stremlinnia,” Zhytie i slovo 2 (1894):444.

11. Several important studies on Czech-Ukrainian relations in the nineteenth century are to be found in Z istorii chekhoslovatsko-ukrainskykh zviazkiv (Bratislava 1959). See also V. Hosticka, “Ukrajina v nazorech ceske obrozenecke spolecnosti do roku 1848,” Slavia 33 (Prague 1964):558-78.

12. K. Havlicek Borovsky, Politicke spisy, ed. Z. Tobolka (Prague 1900), 1:59.

13. H. Rusyn (Ia. Holovatsky), “Zustande der Russinen in Galizien,” Slawische Jahrbucher 4 (Leipzig 1846):361-79.

14. S. Kieniewicz, Konspiracje galicyjskie (1831-1845) (Warsaw 1950); passages relevant to the question of Polish-Ukrainian relations are on 103-4, 155-61, 213-14.

15. M. Freiherr von Sala, Geschichte des polnischen Aufstandes vom Jahre 1846 (Vienna 1867), 98-102.

16. Ibid., 102.

17. The text of the petition, and of the manifesto of 10 May, mentioned below, is in K. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky halytskykh ukraintsiv 1848-1914 (Lviv 1926), 17 and 21-4. For accounts of Ukrainian participation in the 1848 Revolution, see S. Baran, Vesna narodiv v avstro-uhorskii Ukraini (Munich 1948); E. M. Kosachevskaia, Vostochnaia Galitsiia nakanune i v period revoliutsii 1848 g. (Lviv 1965); M. Bohachevsky-Chomiak, The Spring of a Nation: The Ukrainians in Eastern Galicia in 1848 (Philadelphia 1967); M. Danylak, Halytski, bukovynski, zakarpatski ukraintsi v revoliutsii 1848-1849 rokiv (Bratislava 1972); and J. Kozik, Miedzy reakcjaq a rewolucja: Studia z dziejow ukraihskiego ruchu narodowego w Galicji w latach 1848-1849 (Warsaw and Cracow 1975).

18. F. Friedjung, Oesterreich von 1848 bis 1860 (Stuttgart and Berlin 1908), 1:100.

19. R. A. Kann, The Multinational Empire: Nationalism and National Reform in the Habsburg Monarchy, 1848-1918 (New York 1950), 2:62.

20. V. Zacek, “Pro zviazky chekhiv i zakhidnykh ukraintsiv u revoliutsiinykh 1848 ta 1849 rokakh,” Z istorii chekhoslovatsko-ukrainskykh zviazkiv, 343-69; V. Hosticka, Spoluprace Cechu a halicskych Ukrajincu v letech 1848-1849, in Rozpravy Ceskoslovenske Akademie Ved: Rada spolecenskych ved 75, no. 12 (1965).

21. For the text of the resolution, V. Zacek, ed., Slovansky sjezd v Praze roku 1848. Sbirka dokumentu (Prague 1958), 314-15. See also L. D. Orton, The Prague Slav Congress of 1848 (Boulder, Colo. 1978).

22. A. Springer, ed., Protokolle des Verfassungs-Ausschusses im Oesterreichischen Reichstage 1848-49 (Leipzig 1885), 31.

23. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 21.

24. Springer, Protokolle des Verfassungs-Ausschusses, 30-31.

25. Quoted from M. Tyrowicz, ed., Galicja od Pierwszego Rozbioru do Wiosny Ludow, 1772-1849 (Cracow 1956), 230-32; R. Rosdolsky, Die Bauernabgeordneten im konstituierenden osterreichischen Reichstag 1848-1849 (Vienna 1976), 136-8.

26. However, a prominent member of the Rada, Hryhorii Shashkevych (no relation to the “Awakener,” Markiian Shashevych), proposed to the Reichstag a bill to create in Galicia commissions of arbitration to adjudicate cases arising between the landowners and the peasants. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 37; Rosdolsky, Die Bauernabgeordneten, 167-9. For agrarian problems in Galicia during the 1848-9 Revolution, see Klasova borotba selianstva Skhidnoi Halychyny (1772-1849). Dokumenty i materialy (Kiev 1974).

27. For details of the Palacky plan, see Springer, Protokolle des Verfassungs-Ausschusses, 26.

28. For details, R. Charmatz, Oesterreichs innere Geschichte von 1848 bis 1907 (Leipzig 1909), 1:23. For a detailed discussion of the problems of Galicia’s partition, see 1. Krevetsky, “Sprava podilu Halychyny v rr. 1846-1850,” Zapysky Naukovoho tovarystva im. Shevchenka, 93 (1910):54-69; 94 (1910):58-83; 95 (1910):54-82; 96 (1910):94-115; 97 (1910):104-54.

29. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 104.

30. For a full presentation of the intricacies of constitutional and legal arrangements, see K. Grzybowski, Galicja 1848-1914 . Historia ustroju politycznego na tie historii ustroju Austrii (Cracow, Wroclaw and Warsaw 1959).

31. In 1861 there were forty-nine Ukrainian deputies to the Galician Diet. By 1867 their number had been cut to fourteen, out of a total membership of 144. From the Reichsrat elections of 1879 there emerged three Ukrainian deputies, as against fifty-seven Poles. See K. G. Hugelmann, ed., Das Nationalitatenrecht des alten Oesterreichs (Vienna and Leipzig 1934), 693 and 713.

32. Rudnyckyj, Ukraina, 145. It is to be noted that the Polish minority in eastern Galicia had considerably increased in the course of the nineteenth century. In 1857 there were only 21.5 per cent Roman Catholics there. No precise data are available for the earlier period, but it is likely that the percentage of Poles was even smaller. “In Ruthenia there lived [in 1772] a small minority of Roman Catholic Poles; they were mostly noblemen and towndwellers, and here and there also unfree peasants,” A. J. Brawer, Galizien wie es an Oesterreich kam: Eine historischstatistische Studie uber die Verhaltnisse des Landes im Jahre 1772 (Leipzig and Vienna 1910), 21. The increase of the Polish population was due to several causes: higher mortality among Ukrainians; colonization by Polish settlers from the western part of the province; continued assimilation. The sons of the German officials who had come to Galicia during the absolutist period usually became Poles. The same applied to the Armenians and some emancipated Jews. Ukrainian villagers, when they moved to towns, or rose to a higher social status, frequently became Polonized, and this process began to slow down only in the second half of the nineteenth century.

33. Bujak, Galicya (Lviv and Warsaw 1908), 1:72-3.

34. Ibid., 1:84.

35. K. Ostaszewski-Barariski, Waclaw Michal Zaleski (1799-1849). Zarys biograficzny (Lviv 1912), 353.

36. Springer, Protokolle des Verfassungs-Ausschusses, 20.

37. Wiadomosci Polskie (Paris), 1858, no. 30, quoted from W. Kalinka, Diela (Cracow 1894), 4, pt. 2:212.

38. S. Kaczala, Polityka Polakow wzglgdem Rusi (Lviv 1879), 306.

39. M. Bobrzynski, Dzieje Polski w zarysie (Warsaw 1931), 3:296-7.

40. K. Dunin-Wasowicz, Dzieje Stronnictwa Ludowego w Galicji (Warsaw 1956). E. Hornowa, Ukrainski oboz postepowy i jego wspolpraca z polska lewica spoleczna w Galicji 1876-1895 (Wroclaw, Warsaw, and Cracow 1968).

41. S. von Smolka, Die reussische Welt: Historisch-politische Studien (Vienna 1916), 77-8 and 75-6.

42. I. Franko, “Nash pohliad na polske pytannia,” in Vybrani suspilno-politychni i filosofski tvory (Kiev 1956), 282.

43. For a general introduction to the problem: O. Terletsky, Moskvofily i narodovtsi v 70-kh rr. (Lviv 1902); M. Andrusiak, Narysy z istorii halytskoho moskovofilstva (Lviv 1935), and Geneza i kharakter halytskoho rusofilstva v XIX-XX st. (Prague 1941); and F. Svistun, Prikarpatskaia Rus’ pod vladeniem Avstrii (Trumbull, Conn., 1970; reprint in 1 volume of 2 volumes, Lviv 1896-7). On the initial stage of the controversy, see K. Studynsky, ed., Korespondentsiia Iakova Holovatskoho v litakh 1850-62, in Zbirnyk Filolohichnoi sektsii Naukovoho tovarystva im. Shevchenko 8-9 (Lviv 1905). A penetrating contemporary analysis is to be found in the articles of M. Drahomanov, collected in Politicheskiia sochineniia M. P. Dragomanova, ed. I. M. Grevs and B. A. Kistiakovsky (Moscow 1908).

44. B. Didytsky, Svoiezhytievyi zapysky (Lviv 1906), 1:10-14 and 64-5.

45. Ibid., 1:72-81.

46. Korczok, Die griechisch-katholische Kirche in Galizien, 121-36.

47. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 80-81.

48. M. Tanty, “Kontakty rosyjskich komitetow slowiariskich ze Slowianami z Austro-Wegier,” Kwartalnik Historyczny 71, no. 1 (1964):59-77. See also U. Picht, M. P. Pogodin und die Slavische Frage: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Panslavismus (Stuttgart 1969), 161-79.

49. H. Kohn, Pan-Slavism: Its History and Ideology (Notre Dame, Ind. 1953), 23.

50. Narod means both “people” and “nation” in Ukrainian. Thus narodovtsi may be rendered as either “populists” or “nationalists,” but the former is, probably, more accurate.

51. Terletsky, Moskvofily i narodovtsi, 24.

52. F. Chornohora (D. Taniachkevych), Pysmo narodovtsiv ruskykh do redaktora politychnoi chasopysi “Rus’ ” iako protest i memoriial (Vienna 1867), 3, 5, 6, 15.

53. The best picture of the early stages of the populist movement is to be found in the reminiscences of O. Barvinsky, Spomyny z moho zhyttia. Obrazky z hromadianskoho i pysmenskoho rozvytku rusyniv, 2 vols. (Lviv 1912-13). See also S. M. Trushevych, Suspilno-politychnyi rukh u Skhidnii Halychyni v 50-70-kh rokakh XIX st. (Kiev 1978).

54. For a presentation of the organizational achievements of the Ukrainian movement up to the 1880s, see V. Hnatiuk, Natsionalne vidrodzhennia avstrouhorskykh ukraintsiv (1772-1880 rr.) (Vienna 1916). On the history of the Prosvita association, see Storichchia materi “Prosvity” (Winnipeg 1968).

55. For a contemporary account, see M. P. Drahomanov, “Protsess postydnyi vo vsekh otnosheniiakh” in Sobranie politicheskikh sochinenii M. P. Dragomanova, ed. B. A. Kistiakovsky, 2 vols. (Paris 1905-6), 2:626-37.

56. On the beginnings of the Radical movement, see O. I. Dei, Ukrainska revoliutsiino-demokratychna zhurnalistyka (Kiev 1959). On the 1878 anti-socialist trial, see V. I. Kalynovych, Politychni protsesy Ivana Franka ta ioho tovaryshiv (Lviv 1967).

57. K. N. Ustiianovych, M. F. Raevskii i rossiiskii panslavizm. Spomyny z perezhytoho i peredumanoho (Lviv 1884).

58. M. P. Drahomanov, “Avtobiohrafiia,” in Vybrani tvory, v. 1 (all published), (Prague 1937), 68.

59. “Vidpovid M. Drahomanova na iubileini pryvitannia,” Vybrani tvory, 89. Drahomanov devoted extensive memoirs to his early relations with Galicia: Avstroruski spomyny, 1867-77 (Lviv 1889-92), reprinted in M. Drahomanov, Literaturno-publitsystychni pratsi (Kiev 1970), 2:151-288. A bibliography of Drahomanov’s published correspondence with Galician personalities is to be found in I. L. Rudnytsky, ed., Mykhaylo Drahomanov: A Symposium and Selected Writings, in Annals of the Ukrainian Academy of Arts and Sciences in the U.S. 2, no. 1 (Spring 1952):131-40. See also Y. Bilinsky, “Drahomanov, Franko, and the Relations between the Dnieper Ukraine and Galicia,” in Annals of the Ukrainian Academy 8, nos. 1-2 (1959):1542-66.

60. G. Y. Shevelov, Die ukrainische Schriftsprache 1798-1963 (Wiesbaden 1963).

61. Ie. Chykalenko, Spohady (1861-1907), 2d ed. (New York 1955), 336.

62. Title borrowed from that of a chapter in Smolka, Die reussische Welt, 103-20.

63. I. Franko, Moloda Ukraina. Providni idei i epizody (Lviv 1910), 17.

64. W. Kutschabsky, Die Westukraine im Kampfe mit Polen und dem Bolschewismus in den Jahren 1918-1923 (Berlin 1934), 14-15.

65. M. Kukiel, Dzieje Polski porozbiorowej, 1795-1921 (London 1961), 412-15.

66. Culled from the articles of R. Dyminsky and S. Baran in Entsyklopediia ukrainoznavstva, (Munich and New York 1949 ff.), v. 1, pt. 1, 1037 and 1046-7; S. Kieniewicz, ed., Galicja w dobie autonomicznej (1850-1914) (Wroclaw 1952), see the editor’s introduction and the source materials in parts 5 through 8; W. Najdus, Szkice z historii Galicji (Warsaw 1958), 1:27-204; P. V. Sviezhynsky, Ahrarni vidnosyny na Zakhidnii Ukraini v kintsi XIX -- na pochatku XX st. (Lviv 1966).

67. For a penetrating contemporary analysis, I. Franko, “Bauernstreiks in Ostgalizien” (1902), Beitrage zur Geschichte und Kultur der Ukraine: Ausgewahlte deutsche Schriften des revolutionaren Demokraten, 1882-1915, ed. E. Winter and P. Kirchner (Berlin 1963), 41 1-22. See also Najdus, Szkice z historii Galicji, 1:263-82.

68. V. Kubiiovych et al., Heohrafiia ukrainskykh i sumezhnykh zemel, 2d ed. (Cracow and Lviv 1943), 301; Iu. Bachynsky, Ukrainska emigratsiia (Lviv 1914), 1:81-97.

69. Entsyklopediia ukrainoznavstva, v. 1, pt. 1, 149.

70. The “parcelling” procedures are vividly described in the memoirs of T. Voinarovsky, “Spohady z moho zhyttia,” Istorychni postati Halychyny XIX-XX st. (New York and Paris 1961). The Reverend Voinarovsky was an eminent agrarian reformer and a close advisor to Metropolitan Andrei Sheptytsky.

71. For a detailed survey, see I. Vytanovych, Istoriia ukrainskoho kooperatyvnoho rukhu (New York 1964), 134-67.

72. Smolka, Die reussische Welt, 134.

73. A. L. Pogodin, Slavianskii mir. Politicheskoe i ekonomicheskoe polozhenie slavianskikh narodov pered voinoi 1914 goda (Moscow 1915), 185.

74. Franko, Beitrage, 434.

75. On Franko, see M. Vozniak, Veleten dumky i pratsi (Kiev 1958). See also the collection of reminiscences, Ivan Franko u spohadakh suchasnykiv (Lviv 1956). On Hrushevsky, see the biographical sketch by B. Krupnytsky included as an introduction to the first volume of M. Hrushevsky, Istoriia Ukrainy-Rusy (New York 1954), l:i-xxx.

76. D. Doroshenko, A Survey of Ukrainian Historiography, in Annals of the Ukrainian Academy in the U.S. 5-6, no. 4 (1957):262. For the history of the Schevchenko Scientific Society, see Istoriia Naukovoho tovarystva im. Shevchenka (New York and Munich 1949), and V. Doroshenko, Ohnyshche ukrainskoi nauky. Naukove tovarystvo im. Shevchenka (New York and Philadelphia 1951).

77. C. Korolevskij, Metropolite Andre Szeptyckyj, 1865-1944, in Opera Theologicae Societatis Scientificae Ucrainorum (Rome 1964), vols. 16-17. This extensive biography, devoted primarily to Sheptytsky’s pastoral and ecumenical work, ought to be supplemented by two essays which deal with his public activity and influence on the life of the Ukrainian community: S. Baran, Mytropolyt Andrei Sheptytskyi. Zhyttia i diialnist (Munich 1947) and V. Doroshenko, Velykyi mytropolyt (Yorkton 1958).

78. The background of the New Era, especially the extent of the involvement of the Austrian government, has never been fully explored. For the role played by the Kievan Ukrainians, see D. Doroshenko, Volodymyr Antonovych. Ioho zhyttia i naukova ta hromadska diialnist (Prague 1942), 78-84. For developments in Galicia itself, see Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 235-75. Important information is also found in Ie. Olesnytsky, Storinky z moho zhyttia, 2 vols. (Lviv 1935), 1:221-43.

79. For a picturesque description of the electoral malpractices in a Galician provincial town during the 1895 elections, see Olesnytsky, Storinky z moho zhyttia, 2:96- 1 15.

80. Materials on the history of the Radical party are found in the memoirs of I. Makukh, Na narodnii sluzhbi (Detroit 1958).

81. On the history of the National-Democratic Party, besides the basic work of K. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky halytskykh ukraintsiv 1848-1914 (Lviv 1926), see two books of biographical sketches: K. Levytsky, Ukrainski polityky. Sylvety nashykh davnikh posliv i politychnykh diiachiv (Lviv 1936-7), 2 vols.; I. Sokhotsky, “Budivnychi novitnoi ukrainskoi derzhavnosty v Halychyni,” In Istorychni postati Halychyny XIX-XX st. (New York and Paris 1961). The last book also contains the memoirs of Tyt Voinarovsky, cited above. On the programs of the National Democrats and Radicals, see W. Feldman, Stronnictwa i programy polityczne w Galicyi 1846-1906 (Cracow 1907), 2:317-62; S. Baran, Nasha prohrama i organizatsiia. Prohrama i organizatsiia Ukrainskoi natsionalno-demokratychnoi (narodnoi) partii (Lviv 1913); and Z. Skvarko, Prohramy Narodno-demokratychnoi i Radykalnoi partii (Kolomyia 1913).

82. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 327.

83. V. Levynsky, Narys rozvytku ukrainskoho robitnychoho rukhu v Halychyni (Kiev 1914).

84. The stories of Les Martovych (1871-1916) are particularly illuminating. See L. Martovych, Tvory, ed. Iu. Hamorak, 3 vols. (Cracow and Lviv 1943).

85. Kann, The Multinational Empire, 2:223.

86. Viceroy Bobrzynski’s memoirs provide rich information: M. Bobrzynski, Z moich pamietnikow (Wroclaw and Cracow 1957). Cf. the monographic study by J. Buszko, Sejmowa reforma wyborcza w Galicji 1905-1914 (Warsaw 1956). A contemporary essay full of brilliant insight is L. Kulczycki, Ugoda polsko-ruska (Lviv 1912).

87. K. Srokowski, N. K. N. Zarys historji Naczelnego Komitetu Narodowego (Cracow 1923), 19-21.

88. A. Figol, “Lvivskyi derzhavnyi universytet im. I. Franka,” Entsyklopediia ukrainoznavstva, v. 2, pt. 4, 1420-21; V. Mudry, Borotba za ohnyshche ukrainskoi kultury na zakhidnykh zemliakh Ukrainy (Lviv 1923). On the negotiations in connection with the university problem, see Bobrzynski, Z moich pamietnikow, 302-17; and A. Sirka, The Nationality Question in Austrian Education: The Case of Ukrainians in Galicia 1867-1914 (Frankfurt am Main, Bern, and Cirencester 1980), 136-55.

89. Srokowski, N.K.N., 12-13.

90. For a description of the Russophile propaganda in the pre-war years, see L. Wasilewski, Die Ostprovinzen des alten Polenreiches (Cracow 1916), 263-5.

91. Kulczycki, Ugoda polsko-ruska, 47 and 51.

92. For the 1913 “principles of compromise” see Buszko, Sejmowa reforma wyborcza, 226-8.

93. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 685-91; Buszko, Sejmowa reforma wyborcza, 262-5.

94. In 1911-12 there were in Galicia seventy Polish and eight Ukrainian Gymnasiums for boys, twenty Polish and one Ukrainian Gymnasium for girls, fourteen Polish and no Ukrainian secondary technical schools (Realschule). Hugelmann, Das Nationalitatenrecht des alten Oesterreichs, 709; Sirka, The Nationality Question in Austrian Education, 110-35.

95. Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 686 and 693.

96. Bujak, Galicya, 1:94.

97. Extensive excerpts from the declaration are to be found in Bobrzynski, Z moich pamietnikow, 296.

98. For the full text, Levytsky, Istoriia politychnoi dumky, 720-22.

99. On the paramilitary movement in Galicia and the origins of the Ukrainian Sich Sharpshooters, see S. Ripetsky, Ukrainske sichove striletstvo. Vyzvolna ideia i zbroinyi chyn (New York 1956), 17-76.

100. D. Doroshenko, Istoriia Ukrainy 1917-1923 rr. (Uzhhorod 1930), 1:30-32.