If a speaker was of medium height, his head would be just slightly higher than the president’s dais. As for Chkheidze, he was lost to sight somewhere below there. He made a lot of noise but his was not the speech which made the majestic president nervous. Who paid any attention to Chkheidze? Nor, when Kerensky jumped up to put on the show expected of him, would that be the most embarrassing scene. No, looking down the list of speakers, Rodzyanko saw Milyukov’s name inexorably drawing nearer. The contents of his speech were already known to a narrow circle of deputies, and the president himself had spent part of yesterday urging Milyukov to omit passages which concerned august personages. To no avail. But merely to preside while such a speech was delivered was doubly dangerous: to interrupt or object meant damning yourself in the eyes of the whole of the Duma, and so to suffer inevitable defeat at the presidential elections in two days’ time. But to remain neutral would mean finally damning yourself in the eyes of the imperial family.
How could a man surrender an office which had become so much part of himself that no one could even imagine them apart? With someone other than Rodzyanko as president the Duma would, in effect, cease to be the Duma. Russia would be a different Russia. And what would he himself be if he was not reelected? Separated from Russia, no longer a pillar of his country but a stepson. Besides …
This office is a sacred cult, an honor attainable by only a few happy mortals in this earthly life of ours.
He had thought of a simple ruse. He whispered to his deputy Varun-Sekret, installed him in the place of honor, and stepping noiselessly, for all his bulk, his whole demeanor showing that this was not for long, but alas he simply had to, and on such a solemn day … he left the hall.
(On the eve of the session. I caught a chill. I was feeling poorly, I had difficulty in finishing my speech, and I handed over to my deputy immediately afterward.)
But—surprise, surprise!
This unimportant fact proved to be fraught with serious consequences!
Next Professor Levashov made a statement on behalf of the right, boringly written and uninspiringly read. His audience neither applauded nor booed him.
Our fatherland is being flooded with persons of German origin, who have taken possession of our best land, all our commerce and industry … They have every opportunity to provide our ferocious enemies with information on … To damage bridges, blow up storage depots, artificially provoke popular disturbances. The majority in the State Duma systematically avoids discussing the struggle against the German takeover.
The rapacity of the black marketeers who have appeared everywhere on the home front, the banks and joint-stock companies … We on the right, more than a year ago … The State Duma has confined itself to … Nor has the government shown …
Only toward the end did he touch a live nerve.
We condemn those who endeavor to exploit the government’s blunders to seize power for themselves, mouthing loud phrases about serving their motherland. We reject the charge against the government of repressing so-called public opinion. The government’s mistakes are in a very different area: in the absence of firm authority, in its fear of stern measures. The government is guilty, rather, of a desire to please everybody at once.
(In 1916 this was by no means obvious. You would need to live a lot longer to make comparisons.)
When hundreds of millions of government money have been allocated to the Unions of Zemstvos and Towns, when tens of thousands of people have been excused from military service to carry out their work—can it be said that the government is obstructing the activities of these organizations?
(Nobody knew exactly how much had been allocated—it was 550 million rubles of government money, as against 10 million in private donations—because the whole of the widely read free liberal press unanimously refused to publish this inconvenient information.)
We call on you to put an end to the struggle for power or at least to postpone it until the end of the war.
That was not the sort of thing the Duma wanted to hear—and it didn’t listen.
Kerensky had awaited his turn in an agony of impatience, but it had come at last. The proceedings thus far had been sheer boredom, but now things would begin to happen. Hag-ridden by ideological frenzy, by the sweet torment of his personal responsibility to Russian society and to the Duma—the state’s fourth, his own first—confident in his combination of extreme political boldness with superb oratorical skill, Kerensky let slip no opportunity to speak—in debate, in questions to ministers, in explanation of his vote, to explain his conduct on expulsion from the chamber. It seemed that he had no sooner left the rostrum than he was putting his name down to speak again, and as soon as his turn came up he skipped, up he zoomed again, light on his feet, neatly nipped in at the waist, dressed up to the nines. (Shouts from the right: “Best man at a wedding!” “Ask him whose best man he was!”) But what did all that matter, with turns of phrase one more beautiful than the other, impatient to trip smoothly off his tongue three times faster than any other orator in the hall could speak.
Kerensky: The bloody vortex into which European democracy has been drawn on the initiative of the dominant classes must be brought to an end! But, gentlemen, how can we leave the preparation of the peace for which democracy longs to those people who are systematically destroying the organism of the state? Did last year’s terrible thunderclap on the San and outside Warsaw …
(here a slight twist of his tightly buttoned torso, one elegant hand swinging to the rear and to the right, pointing at the box which the ministers have already vacated)
bring them to their senses and compel them to leave those places? They were soon themselves again, and for a whole long year inflicted new indignities on the Russian people. Everything possible was done to crush its enthusiasm and its spirit.
He dwells on that word—enthusiasm! enthu-zi-azm!—with special force even when the rhetorical torrent is in full spate. The stenographic record will read most impressively in a few days’ time. Kerensky’s group, like that of Chkheidze, is small in number, and has no influence on Duma voting, but between them they fill almost a quarter of the Duma’s time with their speeches.
Gentlemen! The government ridicules the demand for an amnesty, which has swept the whole country! A regime of what can only be called White terror has been created over the past year! All the prisons are filled with representatives of the toiling masses!
(Even according to Chkheidze there were only 7,000 political prisoners, and most of those were in places of banishment from which only the lazy, and those who didn’t want to end up in the army, did not escape.)
And is it not sym-bol-ic that our comrades, members of the State Duma, Social Democrats, remain in places of banishment in the Turukhansk territory while Sukhomlinov strolls around Petrograd? (Voices from the left: “Shame!”)
Who has damaged and disorganized Russia to such an extent that the urban masses are forced to demonstrate in protest, and their call for bread is answered with leaden bullets?
(No one could recollect any such incident. But from the Duma platform anything would serve.)
Who, gentlemen, is to blame for the fact that throughout the country despondency and dread are gaining ground from day to day? The government’s actions are controlled by hints, instructions from unaccountable persons controlled by the con-temp-tible Grishka Rasputin!
Any mention of that name was forbidden—but Kerensky was not easily restrained. It was an e-mo-tion-al shock to the nerves of his audience. The elegant, beautifully turned-out best man flourished his fists—his little white fists—at the ignorant, snuffling bearded peasant!
Surely, gentlemen, all that we are experiencing must make us unanimously proclaim that the main, the greatest enemy of our country is not at the front! He is here among us! And there is no salvation for our country until we compel those who are destroying, who despise and make a mockery of our country to depart!
But just suppose that one of these days Aleksandr Kerensky himself
… oh, how different it would all be! Apple blossom would fill the dizzy air! How very different things would immediately become!
Tell me, gentlemen! If Russia was at the present time ruled by …
(This was not his own idea, rather one of Guchkov’s, and it had been around for quite some time, but why not repeat it if it slipped so easily off the tongue?)
… agents of enemy powers—could they possibly present their servants with any other program for creating anarchy in Russia?
Ministers are reluctant to come here and discuss the situation with us face to face, because they know very well what they are doing! They know what a storm of indignation awaits them! (Applause from the left.) Having tied this great people hand and foot, and blindfolded it, they have cast it under the feet of a powerful enemy, while they themselves, protected by the machinery of censorship and banishment, prefer, like hired assassins, to strike the fatal blow surreptitiously! (Stormy applause from the left.)
Varun-Sekret, a native of the steppes around Kherson, was also a staunch liberal, but …
Duma member Kerensky, I call on you to …
Kerensky: Where are they, where are those people …
he cried more shrilly than ever, pointing at the empty government seats. He knew that Milyukov was getting ready to make a powerful attack, and he had to strike first and more effectively.
… these people suspected of treason, these fratricides, these cowards? (Stormy applause from the left. The center is silent. Cries from the right of “What’s he talking about?” “This can’t possibly be allowed!” “Shame!”)
Varun: Member of the Duma Kerensky, I must warn you that any repetition …
But Kerensky didn’t need to repeat himself. He had fired off his main salvo, and smoky flame still hung in the air.
I cannot refrain from saying here that all attempts to save the country will be fruitless as long as power is in the hands … I maintain that at the present moment we have no greater enemy than those who, at the summit of power, are leading the country to disaster! I maintain that this above all is what must be told to those who pay tribute in blood and imprisonment … and who are not allowed to know the truth! We must tell the masses this: before you can conclude a peace worthy of international democracy you must destroy those who are oblivious of their duty! They …
(for the third time he repeats his dramatic gesture, swiveling to transfix the ministerial box with his forensic hand)
… must go! They betray the interests of …
Alas and alack! Rodzyanko is still missing—and he only went for a minute! And Kerensky still had a long way to go to the end of his allotted hour—time enough to vilify and demolish the earthly Tsar and the Tsar of heaven. The inexperienced Varun-Sekret takes fright and rings his bell over the orator’s serpentine head.
Member of the State Duma Kerensky, I withdraw your right to address the assembly. Please leave the rostrum.
Suddenly—the fight goes out of him and he meekly submits. His punitive eloquence evaporates, he sags like a pricked soap bubble. A moment ago there was no restraining his wrath. Now, suddenly, with an elegant wriggle, shoulders slightly bowed, display handkerchief showing in his breast pocket, he descends, or rather saunters down the steps to admiring murmurs from the ladies in the gallery, applause from the left and howls of fury from the right.
He had stolen a march on Milyukov and that was all he wanted to do. He had exhausted his stock of gestures and accusations, and he had no practical suggestions to make. He had in fact counted on being cut short, the sooner the better.
Who, though, would speak for the other side? Where, on the right, is his equal, ready to rush into the fray? Alas! there is no one. Another flat, dreary, boring voice, that of a retired Hussar Guards officer, now a lean and hungry chamberlain, reading a prepared statement on behalf of the Russian nationalists.
Balashov: Conscious of their responsibility to Russia and the throne … enthusiastically salute the mighty and valiant … Regretfully, the government has no plan of action … constant replacement of personnel, promulgation of insufficiently thought-out and incoherent measures … A favorable situation for looting … But the legislative institutions, which have assumed responsibility for military supplies and provisions, are also … Creation of a greater Romania, friendly to Slavdom … How naïve and shortsighted are those who think that the end of the World War is near. Until the unification of all the ancient Russian lands and possession of the Black Sea entrances are achieved …
We call upon all classes to show patience and self-denial in the struggle against luxury. We believe that as a result of the world conflict … moral rebirth of the people … triumph of Russian culture …
Boring, boring. But there had to be a breathing space before the explosion. It was annoying that the smart-aleck Kerensky had filched and flaunted the most resounding themes. But that was the custom and the privilege of the left. Besides, what was said was less important than by whom. Even if the leader of the parliamentary majority spoke more moderately, the effect would be multiplied by the size of his majority, of the whole Progressive Bloc.
The leader of the parliamentary majority (by Western norms certain to become head of government) was entered in the list of speakers not just anywhere, but so that he could bring the Duma’s day to a climax. He inspects the stenographers with a semicircular stare, something no averagely well-known deputy would do. He knows before he looks around at the hall that there are no eyes absently gazing elsewhere, that they are all fixed expectantly on his imposing nape, his broad neck, his solid back, knowing that he has not come empty-handed, that his very ascent to the rostrum marks an epoch in the work of the Duma, a stride forward in Russian history. (The French press describes him as “the great leader who in the very near future will play an outstanding role in his fatherland.”) When he turns to his audience his graying forelock, his plain, forbidding spectacles, the long untrimmed mustache which holds no promise of conciliatory words, when, between tirades read from the text before him, he treats the hall to a glimpse of the excellent manners which make it possible for him to perform in European circles without demeaning himself, he sees that the Duma majority is gripped and unanimously behind him, while the reactionary right is convulsed with fury.
It is always the same. But today the leader of the People’s Freedom Party, also leader of the Progressive Bloc, mounts the rostrum with a task of more than usual importance. He had made no real speech there since March. He had missed a whole Duma session traveling in Europe. Now two sessions on end had passed too peacefully, out of tune with the boldness of the congresses of the Unions of Zemstvos and Towns. People were getting the impression that the Duma was forfeiting its authority, that its conflict with government was at a standstill. Pavel Nikolaevich himself had prudently slowed down the activities of the Bloc as far as possible, but he was guiltily aware of his growing indebtedness to the left, and could no longer afford to fall behind revolutionary public opinion. The time had come to blow up the position which they could not take by siege. Without an honorable alliance with the left, without support from the left, the Liberals would cease to exist. The more offensively the left tried to provoke a split, to deprive the Kadets of a life-giving union with the people, the more sensational his speech must be, to wring cries of approval from the left benches too, and to put the schismatic Progressists to shame.
(The Duma was lagging behind. Public pressure was increasing. People awaited a new word with growing impatience. It had to be spoken on 14 November. It was clear that hitting out at Stürmer was insufficient, one had to aim higher, and not spare the source to which all rumors ascended. I realized the risk I was running but felt that I had to disregard it.)
So as he mounted the rostrum he carried with him an invisible forty-pound bomb, which he placed for the moment at his feet.
Milyukov: It is with a heavy heart that I mount this rostrum today.
On the contrary—with a very light heart. In two Dumas he had rea
d out some fifty speeches, each an hour long, and with great enjoyment. How much more prestigious was the Duma rostrum than the professorial chair which he had been denied in his younger days. Students might, or might not, take notes when you lectured, but the deputies would eagerly snatch them from the stenographers and in a day or two dozens of trains would carry thousands of copies all over Russia. In his mind’s eye he could already see tomorrow’s newspapers: “Milyukov’s brilliant speech produced a tremendous impression—one of his best parliamentary speeches. He bombarded his audience with searching questions. We were left with the feeling that we were living through one of those moments when word becomes deed.” This speech would shake even those who never read speeches. And, someday, excerpts from it would be included in textbooks of Russian history. This for instance:
You remember the circumstances in which more than a year ago … The country was calling for a government of persons with the confidence of the … Influenced by our setbacks in the field, the government made certain concessions. Ministers detested by the public were dismissed, and legal proceedings against the Minister of War were initiated. How different things are now, gentlemen, in the twenty-seventh month of the war! I will say openly that we have lost all faith that this regime can lead us to victory. All the Allied states have brought the best people of all parties into government.
(We have people just as good!)
But our rulers have sunk even below the level at which they were at more normal times in the life of Russia. We used to appeal not to the intelligence and knowledge of the regime, but to its patriotism and its conscience …
(Nothing of the sort had happened. It was just a manner of speaking.)
But can we do that now? Gentlemen, if the Germans had decided to use the opportunities they have to influence and suborn … in order to disorganize our country …
(That thought again—originally Guchkov’s, already appropriated by Kerensky—but why should Milyukov not restate it, more vividly, of course?)
November 1916 Page 133