The explosive atmosphere in which the Duma held its meetings in July and August 1915 cannot be appreciated without reference to the military disasters which accompanied them. By the time the Duma reconvened, the Russian armies had abandoned Poland and the enemy was in sight of Riga. The mood at headquarters in Mogilev was one of unrelieved gloom. General G. N. Danilov, the Quartermaster General and one of Russia’s most influential strategists, told a friend a few weeks earlier that one might as well give up all thought of strategy because the Russians had no capability to undertake active operations: their only hope lay in the “exhaustion of the German forces, good luck, and the protection of St. Nicholas the Miracle Worker.”73 At the cabinet meeting of July 16, Polivanov prefaced his remarks with the terse statement: “The country is in danger.”74 Alexander Krivoshein, in charge of agriculture, told friends that the government resembled an “asylum.”75
The Duma opened as Russian troops were evacuating Warsaw. The senile, universally despised Goremykin addressed the assembly in an uncharacteristically conciliatory tone, conceding that the government had a “moral obligation” to cooperate with it. When he finished, deputy after deputy, representing the entire spectrum of opinion save for the extreme right, assailed the government for its incompetence.76
Notably virulent was the leader of the Trudovik group, Alexander Fedorovich Kerensky, who was destined to play a major role in the revolution. Kerensky, who was only thirty-three when the war broke out, was an ambitious lawyer and a rising star in Russian socialist politics.77 He first acquired fame as a defense attorney in well-publicized political trials. A skilled orator, he had a hypnotic influence on crowds, but was without either strategic sense or analytic powers. In the Fourth Duma, he promptly rose to the fore as the most inflammatory speaker on the left. After the arrest in November 1914 of the Bolshevik deputies (whom he defended in court), he became the chief spokesman of the socialist factions, easily outshining the leader of the Menshevik deputation, the Georgian Nicholas Chkheidze. In 1917, with the publication of police dossiers on Kerensky, it became known that from the instant the war had broken out he rallied socialist intellectuals against the government and attempted to organize a workers’ soviet.78 After the defeat of the Russian armies in Poland, Kerensky worked for the overthrow of the tsarist regime and the sabotaging of the war effort. In the fall of that year, he agitated against worker participation in the joint committees established to improve defense production (see below) and identified himself with the Zimmerwald resolution of anti-war socialists, in the drafting of which Lenin had played a major role. Indeed, by then there was little to distinguish him from Lenin, and in the eyes of the police he was the “chief ringleader of the present revolutionary movement.”79 His biographer believes that in the summer of 1915, Kerensky, in association with his friend and fellow Mason N. V. Nekrasov, and Chkheidze, “came close to precipitating a revolution of the masses around ‘bourgeois’ leadership.”80
In August 1915, Nicholas took two decisions which many contemporaries regarded as a death sentence on the dynasty. One was to dismiss Nikolai Nikolaevich and assume personal command of Russia’s armed forces. The other was to prorogue the Duma.
It is difficult to ascertain what moved Nicholas to take over the military command, for he made the decision in private and persisted in it, without explanation, in the face of solid opposition from most of his family and virtually the entire cabinet. A year earlier he had let himself be dissuaded from such a course; now he grew intransigent. One indubitable factor was concern for his beloved army. He may also have wished to inspire the country in the hour of its severe trials, and set an example by sharing the simple life of a soldier. Perhaps he also thought that his action would calm the political turmoil and put an end to rumors of a separate peace. He received vigorous support from his wife, behind whom loomed the sinister figure of Rasputin. Alexandra, for all her love and devotion to Nicholas, thought him a weakling, too soft to stand up to the politicians: with him away at the front, she could look forward to enhanced political influence with which to defend the monarchy’s prerogatives.
In this endeavor she was seconded by Rasputin. Rasputin, who is sometimes called a “mad monk,” was neither mad nor a monk. A peasant from western Siberia who probably belonged to the outlawed Khlysty sect, he was introduced to the Imperial family in 1905 by Nikolai Nikolaevich. He quickly gained their confidence with his ability, which probably involved hypnosis, to stop the bleeding of the hemophiliac Tsarevich. He also posed, with some success, as a “man of the people,” an unlettered but genuine voice of the Russian masses, who the Imperial couple liked to believe were staunchly royalist. Although his connections at the Court enabled him to behave with growing brazenness, until the fall of 1915 he had no political influence. Rumors of his boasting, drinking, and sexual escapades reached the Court, but both Nicholas and his wife dismissed them as the malicious gossip of their enemies.
It was very much in Rasputin’s interest to have Nicholas out of the way. In encouraging Nicholas to leave for the front, he thought of the influence and the money which would then lie within his reach. He knew that Nicholas tolerated him for familial reasons, but neither liked nor trusted him. With Nicholas out of sight, he could manipulate the Empress and become the regime’s eminence grise. To encourage the Tsar to leave, he spread rumors that Nikolai Nikolaevich, whom he came to count among his enemies, aspired to the throne.81 Later on, he would boast that he had “sunk” the Grand Duke.82 Having returned to Petrograd from his exile, he saw the Tsar on July 31 and August 4 and urged him to assume the supreme command. He followed this advice with telegrams.83 Thus, a combination of patriotism and political intrigue seem the most likely reasons behind Nicholas’s fateful step.
If we cannot be entirely certain what caused Nicholas to assume command of the army, we know well why his advisers opposed his doing so. The Council of Ministers feared that the Tsar would jeopardize his prestige by taking charge of the army when its fortunes were at their lowest ebb. If, as was likely, further misfortunes befell the troops, the Tsar would bear personal blame.84 Second, Nicholas had a reputation for being “unlucky”: born on Job’s name day, his coronation marred by the Khodynka tragedy, father to a single male heir who suffered from an incurable malady, he had lost the Japanese war and was the first Russian Tsar to surrender autocratic authority. What inspired confidence that a man with such a record could lead Russia to victory? Last, but not least, apprehensions arose that with Nicholas at the front, power would pass into the hands of the “German” Empress and her disreputable confidant.
Such considerations moved all those who had his interests at heart, except for Alexandra and Goremykin, to implore Nicholas to reconsider. Among them were the Empress Dowager, Polivanov, and Rodzianko, the latter of whom called this “the worst mistake” of Nicholas’s reign.85 On August 21, the Council of Ministers sent Nicholas a collective letter begging him not to go through with his decision. Signed by most of the ministers, Goremykin excepted, it warned that the move “threaten[ed] … with serious consequences Russia, your person, and your dynasty.” The eight signatories concluded that they were unable to continue working with Goremykin and “were losing faith in the possibility of serving [the Tsar] and the Fatherland in a useful manner.”86
Two days before his scheduled departure for the front, Nicholas met with the cabinet. Once again the ministers pleaded with him to change his mind. Nicholas, clutching an ikon and perspiring profusely, listened, then rose to his feet and said: “I have heard what you have to say, but I adhere to my decision.”87 For the time being, he kept the rebellious ministers at their posts, despite their desire to be relieved, only to purge later those who had waxed especially eloquent on this occasion.
On August 22, Nicholas departed for Mogilev, where he was to remain, except for brief visits to the family, until late December of the following year. Here, he led a quiet, modest life which suited him better than the formality of the Court. He attended daily briefings, b
ut did not interfere with military decisions, which he left to the chief of staff, General Alekseev, the actual Commander in Chief.*
By departing, Nicholas escaped the political storm raging in the capital. Throughout August, the metropolitan press waged a relentless campaign against Goremykin, demanding his replacement by a Prime Minister chosen by the Duma. Some newspapers carried lists of a putative “national” cabinet, similar to the one that would actually assume power in February 1917.88
The political crisis came to a head on August 25, when the Progressive Bloc, now numbering 300 out of the Duma’s 420 deputies, made public a nine-point program.89 Out of deference to the Nationalists, it was more moderate than many signatories would have liked, but it was an audacious document nevertheless. Its first and foremost demand was for a ministry that would enjoy “the confidence of the nation” and promptly agree with the legislature on a “definite program”—a demand that fell short of calling for a ministry chosen by the Duma and accountable to it. Next came a list of proposed measures subjecting the bureaucracy to legal restraints, eliminating the division of authority between the military and civilian administrations in matters not directly related to military operations, setting free political and religious prisoners, abolishing disabilities on religious minorities, including the Jews, granting autonomy to Poland and political concessions to the Finns and Ukrainians, restoring trade unions, and reviewing many existing laws.90 It was to a large extent the platform that the Provisional Government would adopt on coming to power in March 1917. Thus, in terms of both personnel and program, the first revolutionary government may be said to have been conceived as early as August 1915, when tsarism was still in charge and revolution seemed a remote prospect.
The program of the Progressive Bloc had strong reverberations.91 The Council of Ministers came out in favor of negotiations with the bloc to determine the feasibility of a compromise. Most of the ministers were prepared to step down and give way to a new cabinet.92 The Council acted in defiance of Goremykin, who consulted regularly with the Empress and agreed with her that it would be best to request the Tsar to prorogue the Duma.
An extraordinary situation thus emerged in the last days of August 1915: liberal and conservative legislators, representing nearly three-quarters of a Duma elected on a very conservative franchise, made common cause with the highest officials appointed by the Tsar to call for the introduction of parliamentary democracy. Little wonder that the educated classes were seized with euphoria.93
Nicholas, however, refused to surrender the power to appoint ministers, and this for two reasons, one practical, the other theoretical or moral. He did not believe that the intellectuals likely to fill ministerial posts in a parliamentary cabinet would know how to administer the country. He also convinced himself (or perhaps was convinced by his wife) that on the day of his coronation in 1896 he had sworn to uphold autocracy. In fact, he did nothing of the kind. The coronation ceremony demanded of him only a prayer in which no reference was made to the mode of government and the word “autocracy” (samoderzhavie) did not even appear.94 But Nicholas believed otherwise and said on many occasions that giving up the authority to name the cabinet would have violated his oath of office.
He was furious with the politicians for plying their trade while the troops were being bled white. Determined not to repeat the mistake he believed he had committed in October 1905, he stood his ground. On August 28; Goremykin came to Mogilev. He was virtually the last holdout in the cabinet to refuse to join in the demands for political reform. When Rodzianko had complained to him that the cabinet was not acting decisively enough to dissuade the Tsar from going to the front, Goremykin had brushed him off, saying that the chairman of the Duma was taking upon himself an “improper” role.95 He was alarmed by the anti-government speeches heard in the Duma, which the press broadcast nationwide. To deprive the opposition of a platform and to calm the situation in the country, he proposed to Nicholas to prorogue the Duma as soon as its six-week session was up. Nicholas assented and instructed Goremykin to adjourn the Duma no later than September 3: all the ministers, himself included, were in the meanwhile to remain at their posts.96 This decision, taken by the two men without consulting the Duma and against the wishes of nearly the entire cabinet, was viewed as a slap in the face of Russian society. Foreign Minister Sazonov expressed a widespread feeling when he said that Goremykin must have taken leave of his senses to make such a recommendation to the Tsar.97 The decision resulted in the isolation of Nicholas from virtually all the political and social circles in the country, except for sycophantic courtiers and politicians of the most extreme right.
Nevertheless, as the days went by the crisis subsided because in September the German offensive ground to a halt, lifting the threat to the Russian homeland. Newspapers favorable to the Progressive Bloc now began to argue that everything possible had been done and there was no point in pressing the government further. At the end of September, the Central Committee of the Constitutional-Democratic Party, the core of the Progressive Bloc, decided to postpone further demands for political reform until the conclusion of the war.98 The conservative Kadet Vasilii Maklakov wrote a widely quoted article which provided the rationale for this course. He compared Russia to an automobile driven along a narrow and steep road by a thoroughly incompetent chauffeur. In it sits one’s mother (read: Russia). The driver’s slightest mistake will send the vehicle plunging down a precipice, killing all passengers. Among the passengers are capable drivers, but the chauffeur refuses to yield the wheel to them, confident that they will not seize it by force for fear of a fatal accident. In these circumstances, Maklakov assured his readers, you will “postpone settling accounts with the driver … until you have reached level ground.”99 As was his habit, once the crisis was over Nicholas punished those who had dared to oppose him. In late September he dismissed the ministers who had been especially vocal in their opposition to his assuming military command: Alexander Samarin, the Procurator of the Holy Synod, who had drafted the Council of Ministers’ letter of August 21; Nicholas Shcherbatov, the Minister of the Interior; and Krivoshein. Shcherbatov’s successor, Alexander N. Khvostov, appointed in November, was widely regarded as a nominee of Rasputin—the first of several.100 So once again—and now for the last time—Nicholas had managed to weather the storm and beat back a challenge to his prerogatives. But it was a Pyrrhic victory that isolated him and his appointees from nearly all of society. At a meeting of the cabinet that followed these events, Sazonov (who would soon lose his post as well) said that the government hung suspended in midair “without support either from above or from below,” while Rodzianko thought the country was a “powder keg.” Nicholas, Alexandra, and Goremykin succeeded in uniting against themselves nearly all of Russia’s political circles, achieving the seemingly impossible feat of forging a consensus between the revolutionary Kerensky and the monarchist Rodzianko.
The decisions which Nicholas took in August 1915 made a revolution virtually unavoidable. Russia could have averted a revolutionary upheaval only on one condition: if the unpopular but experienced bureaucracy, with its administrative and police apparatus, made common cause with the popular but inexperienced liberal and liberal-conservative intelligentsia. In late 1915 neither of these groups was capable of governing Russia on its own. By preventing such an alliance when it was still possible, Nicholas ensured that sooner or later both would be swept away and he along with them, plunging Russia into anarchy.
To compensate for its refusal to grant parliamentary democracy, the monarchy took steps to give representatives of society a greater voice in the administration. Such moves were inspired mainly by the realization that the shortages of war matériel could not be rectified without the help of the private sector. But there was also the hope that such concessions would deflect demands for political reform.
At a conference at headquarters in July 1915, General Alekseev listed in order of descending importance the shortages responsible for the Russian reverses: (1)
artillery shells, (2) troop replacements, (3) heavy artillery, (4) rifles and rifle ammunition, and (5) officers. Deficiencies in manpower were the responsibility of the military. But the shortages of weapons and ammunition required expanding the base of war production to involve private industry; and this, in turn, called for the cooperation of the business community. Involving representatives of the legislature in defense production, while not essential, was considered politically prudent.
The idea of establishing joint boards of government officials, private entrepreneurs, and Duma deputies to deal with military shortages emerged at informal meetings of businessmen and political figures in Moscow and Petrograd in early May. Rodzianko, one of its most enthusiastic advocates, traveled to Army Headquarters to discuss it with Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich. The latter readily agreed and recommended it to the Tsar, who went along as well.101 Such was the origin of the Special Council for the Coordination of Measures to Ensure the Supply of Artillery to the Active Army. Sukhomlinov, then still Minister of War, viewed with misgivings the intrusion of non-official persons into affairs that, in his opinion, were none of their business, but he was given no choice and assumed the council’s chairmanship. This organization made it possible dramatically to increase the production of artillery shells in 1915. Its success led to the creation later in the year of other Special Councils.
In July, the cabinet agreed to introduce a mixed government-private board, modeled on the recently established British Ministry of Munitions, to mobilize the nation’s industrial economy for war, to be called the Special Council of Defense of the Country (Osoboe Soveshchanie po Oborone Strany). Nicholas approved this resolution and in August it was submitted to the two chambers of the legislature. The Duma majority enthusiastically welcomed it, even if the socialist spokesmen, Kerensky and Chkheidze, argued against the proposal for not going far enough.102 The Special Council promised to improve war production, but it also, and no less importantly, gave the Duma an opportunity to involve itself in the political process. To enhance its role further, the Duma recommended that three more Special Councils be established to deal with transport, food, and fuel.103 Since each council was to have representation from the two legislative chambers, more councils meant that more deputies would participate in the war effort. The four Special Councils came into being at the end of August.
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