The Duma worked hard last week to finish the debate on the reply to the Speech from the Throne. The third reading was passed at three o’clock in the morning last Friday. It must be noted that the majority of the Duma seem to have made a grievous mistake in refusing to add a clause to their address deprecating the murder of policemen by anarchists; only five members of the Right supported this clause. Later on Friday morning the President of the Chamber asked for an audience of the Emperor, and it was thought that no time would be lost in letting him present the address, since all Russia was waiting breathless for the event. Friday passed, Saturday also, and Sunday, and conflicting rumours as to the reception of the President by the Emperor were continually spreading in the city.
Late on Sunday night it became known that the Emperor had refused to receive the President and his deputation, and it was ordained that the address should be presented through official channels. The news was not believed at first. The blunder seemed too great. Somebody had prophesied to me on Sunday that such a course would be adopted, as a joke, never dreaming that it would really be the case. On Monday morning it was announced in the newspapers, and when I arrived at the Duma, I found that the place was in a state of agitation. “The Government is defying us,” was the general expression. An official remarked that the farce was over; that the Duma would proceed to make a fool of itself by some explosion of violence, and discredit itself for ever. This did not occur. A short meeting of the party was held in one of the Committee rooms, and Professor Milioukov, in an eloquent speech, pointed out the extreme folly of any policy of violence, and his party agreed with him unanimously. This lasted about three-quarters of an hour. Then the debate opened; the President announced the intimation he had received as regards his audience. M. Aladin made a speech in which he gave expression to the general resentment at the way in which the Duma had been treated. Professor Kovolievski analysed the situation, and illustrated it with parallels from the procedure of other countries, and then the House went on to the business of the day with unruffled serenity.
Considering the intense bitterness of feeling created by the action of the Emperor, the behaviour of the Duma was miraculous in its good sense and moderation. But the fact that this action was received quietly does not wipe out its effect as an irreparable blunder. The peasants were more incensed than all, even the most conservative of the peasants. One of them said to me: “The Emperor would not receive our delegates,” in a tone of deep resentment, and this evening the telegrams tell us that the feeling created in the provinces where the news has arrived is alarmingly bitter. It is a melancholy fact that if a course is fatal it will probably be taken. I have begun to think that the higher authorities here are destined to take no single step which is not fatal. When one reads the history of France, one understands people making the mistakes they made, as they had not the glaring example of the past before them; but it is hard to imagine how people who have read the history of France can persist in making the very same mistakes over again. Probably the Government relies—and perhaps rightly—on the troops when the inevitable struggle comes. I asked a peasant member of the Duma yesterday what he thought about that; he said that he had talked with many soldiers, and that they would refuse to fight if it was to be against the Duma. The peasant may be mistaken; he may be cherishing an illusion. But what is undeniable is the fact that the existence of the Duma entirely changes the situation of the Army in the event of a great rising. Because the soldiers now know that, if the Duma falls, the struggle of the peasants for land and liberty is lost, and the cause of peasants is their cause, because they are peasants. In 1789 Paris was full of troops for the purpose of keeping order. Paris was like an armed camp. Eleven soldiers of the Guard were arrested in July for their opinions. The National Assembly demanded the dispersal of the troops, “dont la présence irritait les esprits,” and Mirabeau, commenting on the line of conduct adopted by the advisers of the King, put the following question: “Ont-ils observé par quel funeste enchainement de circonstances les esprits les plus sages sont jetés hors des limites de la modération, et par quelle impulsion terrible un peuple enivré se précipite vers des excès, dont la première idée l’eût fait frémir?”
May 24th.
I was talking to-night with a very cultivated Russian officer whom I had known in Manchuria, who was a great admirer of Rudyard Kipling. He said the “Jungle Book” was one of his favourite books. He said he thought there was a certain kind of Jingoism to which he considered it weak on Rudyard Kipling’s part to stoop. He did not mean the patriotism which inspired his work in the sense of praise of England; but the passages which were directed against other countries, such as France or Russia. He cited the story “The Man that Was.” He said he knew a true story of an Englishman made prisoner in the Crimean War. This Englishman had been very ill during his captivity and was taken care of by a Russian family. When peace was declared he returned to England. Two years afterwards he died, and his mother had been so touched by the way in which he had been looked after by the Russians with whom he had lived and by the way he had always spoken of them, that she sent them a ring which had belonged to him and a lock of his hair. He gave me the names. He said he always wished to write and tell Kipling about this.
CHAPTER XIX
THE DEADLOCK
St. Petersburg, May 27th.
Events here are succeeding one another with such rapidity that by the time what one has written reaches England it is already out of date. Yesterday was the most important day there has been up to the present in the history of the Russian Parliament. We had been more or less prepared by the Press for the contents of the Address of the Prime Minister to the Duma; nevertheless, its uncompromising character, once it was revealed in black and white, was of the nature of a shock, even to the pessimistic. There are certain things in which one prefers not to believe until one sees them. The strangers’ seats in the Duma were crowded yesterday, some time before the proceedings began at 2 p.m. The Ministers’ bench was occupied. There was a feeling of suspense and repressed excitement in the air. While the Prime Minister was reading his declaration the silence was breathless. One felt that a year ago the declaration would have seemed an excellent one for an autocratic Government to have made. But now, as the expression of the views of a Constitutional Ministry, it was like a slap in the face. One wondered, if these were the views of the Government, why it had taken the trouble to convene a Parliament. Ever since I have been here I have always derived one and the same impression from Government and Conservative circles: that they do not seem to reflect that it follows, if you convene a Parliament, that the result must be Parliamentary government. Their ideal seems to be Parliamentary institutions and autocratic Government. So far, all attempts that have been made in the history of the world to reconcile these two irreconcilable things have met with failure. In no wise discouraged by the example of the past, the Russian Government has made a further attempt in this direction. It is to be feared that it will be grievously disappointed, judging from the reception with which the Ministerial declaration was met yesterday afternoon.
M. Nabokov spoke first. He spoke clearly and calmly, without rhetoric or emphasis, and gave expression to the universal feeling of bitter disappointment. He was listened to in silence until he reached the question of amnesty, and then, when he said that the House considered this question to be one between itself and the Crown, and did not admit the interference or mediation of any third party with regard to it, the pent-up excitement of the House found release in tumultuous and prolonged applause. Likewise when he said that the House regarded the declaration of the Ministry as a direct challenge of defiance, and that they accepted the challenge, he could not continue for some time owing to the applause and the cheering. It was admitted on all sides that M. Nabokov’s speech was dignified and masterly, and expressed what everybody felt. He was followed by M. Rodichev, who indulged in elaborate and effective rhetoric. Too elaborate and too rhetorical, some people said; psychologically, however, I think it was wise to let M. Rodichev’s tempestuous rhetoric follow immediately after M. Nabokov’s cool decisiveness; because when a body of people finds itself in a tumultuous frame of mind, the tumult must find expression. M. Rodichev’s speech reads exceedingly well; and judging by its result it was successful. M. Anikin spoke for the peasants, and M. Aladin gave vent to the feelings of the more violent members of the House. As an orator, he made a grave mistake in pitching his key too high; he began at the top of the pitch, so that when he wished to make a crescendo he overstepped the limit, and the whole house cried out “Enough! Enough!” After some moments of disorder he was allowed to finish his speech. The general impression was that he had gone too far. He would be twenty times as effective as an orator if he would curb his passion. The Novoe Vremya remarks to-day that it is said that M. Aladin’s oratory is considered to be English in style. M. Aladin has spent eight years in England.
The most successful speech of the day, judging from its reception, was that of Professor Kovolievski, who pointed out that for the Government to speak of the impossibility of expropriation was an insult to the Emperor Alexander II., who had carried out the biggest act of expropriation the world had ever seen. His speech was at the same time extremely sensible and passionately eloquent. He said, like Mirabeau of yore, that the Duma would not go until it was turned out by force, and that in reminding the House that an act of amnesty was the prerogative of the Crown, the Ministry were, as a constitutional body, offending the Monarch by giving the impression that should no amnesty be given it was the Emperor’s will, and that therefore not they, but the Emperor should insist on their resignation. The House adjourned at 7.30, after having passed their momentous vote of censure.