“I want to know what you think of the present situation,” I answered. “Providence,” said Dimitri Nikolaievitch, “has been kind to the Government in vouchsafing them a foreign loan, in spite of the German Emperor’s disapproval.”
“Do you think that the bitterness it has created among the parties of the Left is a serious matter?” I interrupted.
“No,” said Dimitri Nikolaievitch, “I do not; and for this reason: I think that all talk about the loan now is, as Hamlet said, ‘Words, words, words.’ What does it all amount to? The Government say that unless the loan had been made before the Duma had met national bankruptcy would have ensued. The Liberals say a fortnight more or less could not have mattered, and the Government made the loan to be independent of the Duma. To which it is answered that the money is obviously for past deficits and not for present schemes. But, say others, the real reason why the loan was made before the Duma met was that had it not been made the Government would have been absolutely at the mercy of the Duma. ‘That is exactly what we wanted,’ say the Social revolutionaries, because, short of such pressure, the Government will never do anything constitutional. ‘The Government should have trusted the patriotism of the Duma to accept the loan,’ say the Liberals. ‘The foreign bankers have dealt a dastardly blow at the movement for Russian freedom,’ say the Social revolutionaries. I say that this is all ‘Words, words, words.’ The money was imperatively necessary. National bankruptcy cannot be the best springboard for the initial leap of the Duma. And as to its effect on the movement of liberation—that is, I believe, the polite term for what I call the Revolution—I do not believe that it matters one straw. Supposing the loan had been postponed, the bitterness against the Government would not have been lessened, and national bankruptcy would not have made the situation any easier for the Cadets. You will object that the Social revolutionaries probably would have welcomed national bankruptcy. Of course, everything depends on the action of the Government now. What will happen? This Ministry cannot face the Duma. M. Durnovo will have to resign. It has been published all this week in the newspapers that Count Witte has resigned. We infer from this that Count Witte intends either to remain without M. Durnovo or to leave. But supposing his resignation is accepted and M. Durnovo remains?”
“But you do not think——” I interrupted.
“All things are possible,” rejoined Dimitri Nikolaievitch; “remember that; because a course is suicidal that is no guarantee that it will not be taken; the contrary rather is true. Remember the story of Rehoboam I have just read you: ‘Es ist eine alte Geschichte, doch bleibt sie immer neu.’”
“But in any case,” I asked, “how do you think any present or future Government will deal with the Duma?”
“That depends,” he answered, “of course, on who has to deal with it. If the Duma is prorogued after a short session the situation will be hazardous. On the other hand, the whole thing may go off without any great cataclysm. The Cadets do not believe in the dispersal of the Duma. But if we have to take for granted that the higher authorities will behave wisely, in order to ensure things going smoothly, our optimism is put to a high trial. We have so few, we have not one precedent for wise conduct on the part of our Government. There is one comforting thing I can tell you, and that is that I feel certain of this: Whatever cataclysms may occur, in ten years’ time Russia will be in a flourishing condition. Those who talk of Russia being financially unsound talk nonsense. Look at the country now; in spite of a disastrous war, a universal strike, other strikes, revolution, and armed risings, trade is simply humming. The head of one of your biggest English firms here told me yesterday that except the iron trade all the industries are in a flourishing condition. Orders come pouring in. Therefore, as regards the ultimate outlook I am optimistic, whatever happens in the immediate future; whether everything goes jolting on somehow, as may very well happen in Russia, or whether there is a frightful crash in the month of May. Both things are equally possible. So far what has happened is simple. The autocracy was made bankrupt by the war—bankrupt morally, I mean. An attempt was made to pass a sponge over the bankruptcy; this led to a universal strike; then the bankruptcy was recognised, and Count Witte was summoned to liquidate the affairs of the old firm. The liquidation was necessarily a troublous time; nobody was anxious to be concerned in it; certainly none of the people who intended to join the new firm later. Therefore members of the old firm had to be chosen. They got somewhat out of hand. Now the liquidation has come to a close. The new firm is going to start business. If it is impeded it will blow up the bank with dynamite and build a new house. But such an explosion will only affect the staff of the old establishment and not the resources of the new firm, which are the kingdoms of Russia—an incredibly rich and undeveloped concern. If you ask my opinion, I do not think that any such explosion is inevitable, but the Government will no doubt take pains to bring it about. Three years ago a revolution seemed to be an impossibility in Russia. The Government have almost succeeded in making the reverse an improbability.
“But all this is, as I told you, ‘Words, words, words,’ and I refuse to say another word about politics.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE AGRARIAN QUESTION—ON THE EVE OF THE DUMA
Sosnofka, April 29th.