THE PRESENT SITUATION
Reform or Revolution?--Reigns of Alexander II. and Nicholas II.
Compared and Contrasted--The Present Opposition--Various Groups--The
Constitutionalists--Zemski Sobors--The Young Tsar Dispels
Illusions--Liberal Frondeurs--Plehve's Repressive Policy--Discontent
Increased by the War--Relaxation and Wavering under Prince
Mirski--Reform Enthusiasm--The Constitutionalists Formulate their
Demands--The Social Democrats--Father Gapon's Demonstration--The
Socialist-Revolutionaries--The Agrarian Agitators--The
Subject-Nationalities--Numerical Strength of the Various Groups--All
United on One Point--Their Different Aims--Possible Solutions of the
Crisis--Difficulties of Introducing Constitutional Regime--A Strong Man
Wanted--Uncertainty of the Future.
Is history about to repeat itself, or are we on the eve of a cataclysm?
Is the reign of Nicholas II. to be, in its main lines, a repetition of
the reign of Alexander II., or is Russia about to enter on an entirely
new phase of her political development?
To this momentous question I do not profess to give a categorical
answer. If it be true, even in ordinary times, that "of all forms of
human folly, prediction is the most gratuitous," it is especially true
at a moment like the present, when we are constantly reminded of the
French proverb that there is nothing certain but the unforeseen. All
I can hope to do is to throw a little light on the elements of the
problem, and allow the reader to draw his own conclusions.
Between the present situation and the early part of Alexander II.'s
reign there is undoubtedly a certain analogy. In both cases we find
in the educated classes a passionate desire for political liberty,
generated by long years of a stern, autocratic regime, and stimulated by
military disasters for which autocracy is held responsible; and in both
cases we find the throne occupied by a Sovereign of less accentuated
political convictions and less energetic character than his immediate
predecessor. In the earlier case, the autocrat, showing more
perspicacity and energy than were expected of him, guides and controls
the popular enthusiasm, and postpones the threatened political crisis
by effecting a series of far reaching and beneficent reforms. In the
present case . . . the description of the result must be left to future
historians. For the moment, all we can say is that between the two
situations there are as many points of difference as of analogy. After
the Crimean War the enthusiasm was of a vague, eclectic kind, and
consequently it could find satisfaction in practical administrative
reforms not affecting the essence of the Autocratic Power, the main
pivot round which the Empire has revolved for centuries. Now, on the
contrary, it is precisely on this pivot that the reform enthusiasm is
concentrated. Mere bureaucratic reforms can no longer give satisfaction.
All sections of the educated classes, with the exception of a small
group of Conservative doctrinaires, insist on obtaining a controlling
influence in the government of the country, and demand that the
Autocratic Power, if not abolished, shall be limited by parliamentary
institutions of a democratic type.
Another difference between the present and the past, is that those who
now clamour for radical changes are more numerous, more courageous,
and better organised than their predecessors, and they are consequently
better able to bring pressure to bear on the Government. Formerly
the would-be reformers were of two categories; on the one hand, the
Constitutionalists, who remained within the bounds of legality, and
confined themselves to inserting vague hints in loyal addresses to the
Tsar and making mild political demonstrations; and on the other
hand, the so-called Nihilists, who talked about organising society on
Socialistic principles, and who hoped to attain their object by means of
secret associations. With both of these groups, as soon as they became
aggressive, the Government had no difficulty in dealing effectually. The
leading Constitutionalists were simply reprimanded or ordered to
remain for a time in their country houses, while the more active
revolutionaries were exiled, imprisoned, or compelled to take refuge
abroad. All this gave the police a good deal of trouble, especially when
the Nihilists took to Socialist propaganda among the common people, and
to acts of terrorism against the officials; but the existence of the
Autocratic Power was never seriously endangered. Nowadays the Liberals
have no fear of official reprimands, and openly disregard the orders
of the authorities about holding meetings and making speeches, while a
large section of the Socialists proclaim themselves a Social Democratic
party, enrol large numbers of working men, organise formidable strikes,
and make monster demonstrations leading to bloodshed.
Let us now examine this new Opposition a little more closely. We can
perceive at a glance that it is composed of two sections, differing
widely from each other in character and aims. On the one hand, there
are the Liberals, who desire merely political reforms of a more or less
democratic type; on the other, there are the Socialists, who aim at
transforming thoroughly the existing economic organisation of Society,
and who, if they desire parliamentary institutions at all, desire them
simply as a stepping stone to the realisation of the Socialist ideal.
Behind the Socialists, and to some extent mingling with them, stand a
number of men belonging to the various subject-nationalities, who have
placed themselves under the Socialist banner, but who hold, more or
less concealed, their little national flags, ready to be unfurled at the
proper moment.
Of these three sections of the Opposition, the most numerous and
the best prepared to undertake the functions and responsibilities of
government is that of the Liberals. The movement which they represent
began immediately after the Crimean War, when the upper ranks of
society, smarting under defeat and looking about for the cause of the
military disasters, came to the conclusion that Autocracy had been
put to a crucial test, and found wanting. The outburst of patriotic
indignation at that time and the eager desire for a more liberal regime
have been described in previous chapters. For a moment the more sanguine
critics of the Government imagined that the Autocratic Power, persuaded
of its own inefficiency, would gladly accept the assistance of the
educated classes, and would spontaneously transform itself into
a Constitutional Monarchy. In reality Alexander II. had no such
intentions. He was resolved to purify the administration and to reform
as far as possible all existing abuses, and he seemed ready at first
to listen to the advice and accept the co-operation of his faithful
subjects; but he had not the slightest intention of limiting his supreme
authority, which he regarded as essential to the existence of the
Empire. As soon as the landed proprietors began to complain that the
great question of serf emancipation was being taken out of their hands
by the bureaucracy, he reminded them that "in Russia laws are made by
the Autocratic Power," and when the more courageous Marshals of Noblesse
ventured to protest against the unceremonious manner in which the nobles
were being treated by the tchinovniks, some of them were officially
reprimanded and others were deposed.
The indignation produced by this procedure, in which the Tsar identified
himself with the bureaucracy, was momentarily appeased by the decision
of the Government to entrust to the landed proprietors the carrying out
of the Emancipation law, and by the confident hope that political rights
would be granted them as compensation for the material sacrifices
they had made for the good of the State; but when they found that
this confident hope was an illusion, the indignation and discontent
reappeared.
There was still, however, a ray of hope. Though the Autocratic Power
was evidently determined not to transform itself at once into a limited
Constitutional Monarchy, it might make concessions in the sphere of
local self-government. At that moment it was creating the Zemstvo,
and the Constitutionalists hoped that these new institutions, though
restricted legally to the sphere of purely economic wants, might
gradually acquire a considerable political influence. Learned Germans
had proved that in England, "the mother of modern Constitutionalism," it
was on local self-government that the political liberties were founded,
and the Slavophils now suggested that by means of an ancient institution
called the Zemski Sobor, the Zemstvo might gradually and naturally
acquire a political character in accordance with Russian historic
development. As this idea has often been referred to in recent
discussions, I may explain briefly what the ancient institution in
question was.
In the Tsardom of Muscovy during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
representative assemblies were occasionally called together to deal with
matters of exceptional importance, such as the election of a Tsar when
the throne became vacant, a declaration of war, the conclusion of a
peace, or the preparation of a new code of laws. Some fifteen assemblies
of the kind were convoked in the space of about a century (1550-1653).
They were composed largely of officials named by the Government, but
they contained also some representatives of the unofficial classes.
Their procedure was peculiar. When a speech from the throne had been
read by the Tsar or his representative, explaining the question to
be decided, the assembly transformed itself into a large number of
commissions, and each commission had to give in writing its opinion
regarding the questions submitted to it. The opinions thus elicited were
codified by the officials and submitted to the Tsar, and he was free to
adopt or reject them, as he thought fit. We may say, therefore, that the
Zemski Sobor was merely consultative and had no legislative power; but
we must add that it was allowed a certain initiative, because it was
permitted to submit to the Tsar humble petitions regarding anything
which it considered worthy of attention.
Alexander II. might have adopted this Slavophil idea and used the Zemski
Sobor as a means of transition from pure autocracy to a more modern
system of government, but he had no sooner created the Zemstvo than he
thought it necessary, as we have seen, to clip its wings, and dispel its
political ambition. By this repressive policy the frondeur spirit of the
Noblesse was revived, and it has continued to exist down to the present
time. On each occasion when I revisited Russia and had an opportunity
of feeling the pulse of public opinion, between 1876 and 1903, I noticed
that the dissatisfaction with the traditional methods of government, and
the desire of the educated classes to obtain a share of the political
power, notwithstanding short periods of apparent apathy, were steadily
spreading in area and increasing in intensity, and I often heard
predictions that a disastrous foreign war like the Crimean campaign
would probably bring about the desired changes. Of those who made such
predictions not a few showed clearly that, though patriotic enough in a
certain sense, they would not regret any military disaster which would
have the effect they anticipated. Progress in the direction of political
emancipation, accompanied by radical improvements in the administration,
was evidently regarded as much more important and desirable than
military prestige or extension of territory.
During the first part of the Turkish campaign of 1877-78, when the
Russian armies were repulsed in Bulgaria and Asia Minor, the hostility
to autocracy was very strong, and the famous acquittal of Vera
Zasulitch, who had attempted to assassinate General Trepof, caused
widespread satisfaction among people who were not themselves
revolutionaries and who did not approve of such violent methods of
political struggle. Towards the end of the war, when the tide of fortune
had turned both in Europe and in Asia, and the Russian army was encamped
under the walls of Constantinople, within sight of St. Sophia, the
Chauvinist feelings gained the upper hand, and they were greatly
intensified by the Congress of Berlin, which deprived Russia of some
fruits of her victories.
This change in public feeling and the horror excited by the
assassination of Alexander II. prepared the way for Alexander III.'s
reign (1881-94), which was a period of political stagnation. He was a
man of strong character, and a vigorous ruler who believed in Autocracy
as he did in the dogmas of his Church; and very soon after his accession
he gave it clearly to be understood that he would permit no limitations
of the Autocratic Power. The men with Liberal aspirations knew that
nothing would make him change his mind on that subject, and that any
Liberal demonstrations would merely confirm him in his reactionary
tendencies. They accordingly remained quiet and prudently waited for
better times.
The better times were supposed to have come when Nicholas II. ascended
the throne in November, 1894, because it was generally assumed that
the young Tsar, who was known to be humane and well-intentioned, would
inaugurate a more liberal policy. Before he had been three months on the
throne he summarily destroyed these illusions. On 17th (29th) January,
1895, when receiving deputies from the Noblesse, the Zemstvo, and the
municipalities, who had come to St. Petersburg to congratulate him on
his marriage, he declared his confidence in the sincerity of the loyal
feelings which the delegates expressed; and then, to the astonishment of
all present, he added: "It is known to me that recently, in some Zemstvo
assemblies, were heard the voices of people who had let themselves be
carried away by absurd dreams of the Zemstvo representatives taking
part in the affairs of internal administration; let them know that I,
devoting all my efforts to the prosperity of the nation, will preserve
the principles of autocracy as firmly and unswervingly as my late father
of imperishable memory."
These words, pronounced by the young ruler at the commencement of his
reign, produced profound disappointment and dissatisfaction in all
sections of the educated classes, and from that moment the frondeur
spirit began to show itself more openly than at any previous period. In
the case of some people of good social position it took the unusual form
of speaking disrespectfully of his Majesty. Others supposed that the
Emperor had simply repeated words prepared for him by the Minister
of the Interior, and this idea spread rapidly, till hostility to the
bureaucracy became universal.
This feeling reached its climax when the Ministry of the Interior
was confided to M. Plehve. His immediate predecessors, though sincere
believers in autocracy and very hostile to Liberalism of all kinds,
considered that the Liberal ideas might be rendered harmless by firm
passive resistance and mild reactionary measures. He, on the contrary,
took a more alarmist view of the situation. His appointment coincided
with the revival of terrorism, and he believed that autocracy was in
danger. To save it, the only means was, in his opinion, a vigorous,
repressive police administration, and as he was a man of strong
convictions and exceptional energy, he screwed up his system of police
supervision to the sticking-point and applied it to the Liberals as well
as to the terrorists. In the year 1903, if we may credit information
which comes from an apparently trustworthy source, no less than 1,988
political affairs were initiated by the police, and 4,867 persons were
condemned inquisitorially to various punishments without any regular
trial.
Whilst this unpopular rigorism was in full force the war unexpectedly
broke out, and added greatly to the existing discontent.
Very few people in Russia had been following closely the recent
developments of the Far Eastern Question, and still fewer understood
their importance. There seemed to be nothing abnormal in what was taking
place. Russia was expanding, and would continue to expand indefinitely,
in that direction, without any strenuous effort on her part. Of course
the English would try to arrest her progress as usual by diplomatic
notes, but their efforts would be as futile as they had been on all
previous occasions. They might incite the Japanese to active resistance,
but Japan would not commit the insane folly of challenging her
giant rival to mortal combat. The whole question could be settled in
accordance with Russian interests, as so many similar questions had been
settled in the past, by a little skilful diplomacy; and Manchuria could
be absorbed, as the contiguous Chinese provinces had been forty years
ago, without the necessity of going to war.
When these comforting illusions were suddenly destroyed by the rupture
of diplomatic relations and the naval attack on Port Arthur, there was
an outburst of indignant astonishment. At first the indignation was
directed against Japan and England, but it soon turned against the home
Government, which had made no adequate preparations for the struggle,
and it was intensified by current rumours that the crisis had been
wantonly provoked by certain influential personages for purely personal
reasons.
How far the accounts of the disorders in the military organisation and
the rumours about pilfering in high quarters were true, we need not
inquire. True or false, they helped greatly to make the war unpopular,
and to stimulate the desire for political changes. Under a more liberal
and enlightened regime such things were supposed to be impossible, and,
as at the time of the Crimean War, public opinion decided that autocracy
was being tried, and found wanting.
So long as the stern, uncompromising Plehve was at the Ministry of the
Interior, enjoying the Emperor's confidence and directing the police
administration, public opinion was prudent and reserved in its
utterances, but when he was assassinated by a terrorist (July 28th,
1904), and was succeeded by Prince Sviatopolk Mirski, a humane man of
Liberal views, the Constitutionalists thought that the time had come for
making known their grievances and demands, and for bringing pressure
to bear on the Emperor. First came forward the leading members of the
Zemstvos. After some preliminary consultation they assembled in St.
Petersburg, with the consent of the authorities, in the hope that they
would be allowed to discuss publicly the political wants of the
country, and prepare the draft of a Constitution. Their wishes were
only partially acceded to. They were informed semi-officially that their
meetings must be private, but that they might send their resolutions
to the Minister of the Interior for transmission to his Majesty. A
memorandum was accordingly drawn up and signed on November 21st by 102
out of the 104 representatives present.
This hesitating attitude on the part of the Government encouraged
other sections of the educated classes to give expression to their long
pent-up political aspirations. On the heels of the Zemstvo delegates
appeared the barristers, who discussed the existing evils from the
juridical point of view, and prescribed what they considered the
necessary remedies. Then came municipalities of the large towns,
corporations of various kinds, academic leagues, medical faculties,
learned societies, and miscellaneous gatherings, all demanding reforms.
Great banquets were organised, and very strong speeches, which would
have led in Plehve's time to the immediate arrest of the orators, were
delivered and published without provoking police intervention.
In the memorandum presented to the Minister of the Interior by the
Zemstvo Congress, and in the resolutions passed by the other corporate
bodies, we see reflected the grievances and aspirations of the great
majority of the educated classes.
The theory propounded in these documents is that a lawless, arbitrary
bureaucracy, which seeks to exclude the people from all participation
in the management of public affairs, has come between the nation and
the Supreme Power, and that it is necessary to eliminate at once this
baneful intermediary and inaugurate the so-called "reign of law." For
this purpose the petitioners and orators demanded:
(1) Inviolability of person and domicile, so that no one should be
troubled by the police without a warrant from an independent magistrate,
and no one punished without a regular trial;
(2) Freedom of conscience, of speech, and of the Press, together with
the right of holding public meetings and forming associations;
(3) Greater freedom and increased activity of the local self-government,
rural and municipal;
(4) An assembly of freely elected representatives, who should
participate in the legislative activity and control the administration
in all its branches;
(5) The immediate convocation of a constituent assembly, which should
frame a Constitution on these lines.
Of these requirements the last two are considered by far the most
important. The truth is that the educated classes have come to be
possessed of an ardent desire for genuine parliamentary institutions on
a broad, democratic basis, and neither improvements in the bureaucratic
organisation, nor even a Zemski Sobor in the sense of a Consultative
Assembly, would satisfy them. They imagine that with a full-fledged
constitution they would be guaranteed, not only against administrative
oppression, but even against military reverses such as they have
recently experienced in the Far East--an opinion in which those who know
by experience how military unreadiness and inefficiency can be combined
with parliamentary institutions will hardly feel inclined to concur.
It may surprise English readers to learn that the corruption and
venality of the civil and military administration, of which we have
recently heard so much, are nowhere mentioned in the complaints and
remonstrances; but the fact is easily accounted for. Though corrupt
practices undoubtedly exist in some branches of the public service, they
are not so universal as is commonly supposed in Western Europe; and
the Russian reformers evidently consider that the purifying of the
administration is less urgent than the acquisition of political
liberties, or that under an enlightened democratic regime the existing
abuses would spontaneously disappear.
The demands put forward in St. Petersburg did not meet with universal
approval in Moscow. There they seemed excessive and un-Russian, and an
attempt was made to form a more moderate party. In the ancient Capital
of the Tsars even among the Liberals there are not a few who have a
sentimental tenderness for the Autocratic Power, and they argue that
parliamentary government would be very dangerous in a country which is
still far from being homogeneous or compact. To maintain the integrity
of the Empire, and to hold the balance equally between the various races
and social classes of which the population is composed, it is necessary,
they think, to have some permanent authority above the sphere of party
spirit and electioneering strife. While admitting that the Government
in its present bureaucratic form is unsatisfactory and stands in need
of being enlightened by the unofficial classes, they think that a
Consultative Assembly on the model of the old Zemski Sobors would be
infinitely better suited to Russian wants than a Parliament such as that
which sits at Westminster.
For a whole month the Government took little notice of the unprecedented
excitement and demonstrations. It was not till December 25th that a
reply was given to the public demands. On that day the Emperor signed an
ukaz in which he enumerated the reforms which he considered most urgent,
and instructed the Committee of Ministers to prepare the requisite
legislation. The list of reforms coincided to a certain extent with the
demands formulated by the Zemstvos, but the document as a whole produced
profound disappointment, because it contained no mention of a National
Assembly. To those who could read between the lines the attitude of the
Emperor seemed perfectly clear. He was evidently desirous of introducing
very considerable reforms, but he was resolved that they must be
effected by the unimpaired Autocratic Power in the old bureaucratic
fashion, without any participation of the unofficial world.
To obviate any misconception on this point, the Government published,
simultaneously with the ukaz, an official communication in which
it condemned the agitation and excitement, and warned the Zemstvos,
municipalities, and other corporate bodies that in discussing political
questions they were overstepping the limits of their legally-defined
functions and exposing themselves to the rigours of the law.
As might have been foreseen, the ukaz and the circular had not at all
the desired effect of "introducing the necessary tranquillity into
public life, which has lately been diverted from its normal course." On
the contrary, they increased the excitement, and evoked a new series of
public demonstrations. On December 27th, the very day on which the two
official documents were published--the Provincial Zemstvo of Moscow,
openly disregarding the ministerial warnings, expressed the conviction
that the day was near when the bureaucratic regime, which had so long
estranged the Supreme Power from the people, would be changed, and
when freely-elected representatives of the people would take part
in legislation. The same evening, at St. Petersburg, a great Liberal
banquet was held, at which a resolution was voted condemning the war,
and declaring that Russia could be extricated from her difficulties only
by the representatives of the nation, freely elected by secret ballot.
As an encouragement to the organs of local administration to persevere
in their disregard of ministerial instructions, the St. Petersburg
Medical Society, after adopting the programme of the Zemstvo Congress,
sent telegrams of congratulation to the Mayor of Moscow and the
President of the Tchernigof Zemstvo bureau, both of whom had incurred
the displeasure of the Government. A similar telegram was sent by a
Congress of 496 engineers to the Moscow Town Council, in which the
burning political questions had been freely discussed. In other large
towns, when the mayor prevented such discussions, a considerable number
of the town councillors resigned.
From the Zemstvos and municipalities the spirit of opposition spread to
the provincial assemblies of the Noblesse. The nobles of the province of
St. Petersburg, for example, voted by a large majority an address to the
Tsar recommending the convocation of a freely-elected National Assembly;
and in Moscow, usually regarded as the fortress of Conservatism, eighty
members of the Assembly entered a formal protest against a patriotic
Conservative address which had been voted two days before. Even the
fair sex considered it necessary to support the opposition movement. The
matrons of Moscow, in a humble petition to the Empress, declared that
they could not continue to bring up their children properly in the
existing state of unconstitutional lawlessness, and their view was
endorsed in several provincial towns by the schoolboys, who marched
through the streets in procession, and refused to learn their lessons
until popular liberties had been granted!
Again, for more than a month the Government remained silent on the
fundamental questions which were exercising the public mind. At last,
on the morning of March 3d, appeared an Imperial manifesto of a very
unexpected kind. In it the Emperor deplored the outbreak of internal
disturbances at a moment when the glorious sons of Russia were fighting
with self-sacrificing bravery and offering their lives for the Faith,
the Tsar, and the Fatherland; but he drew consolation and hope from
remembering that, with the help of the prayers of the Holy Orthodox
Church, under the banner of the Tsar's autocratic might, Russia had
frequently passed through great wars and internal troubles, and had
always issued from them with fresh strength. He appealed, therefore, to
all right-minded subjects, to whatever class they might belong, to join
him in the great and sacred task of overcoming the stubborn foreign foe,
and eradicating revolt at home. As for the manner in which he hoped this
might be accomplished, he gave a pretty clear indication, at the end
of the document, by praying to God, not only for the welfare of his
subjects, but also for "the consolidation of autocracy."
This extraordinary pronouncement, couched in semi-ecclesiastical
language, produced in the Liberal world feelings of surprise,
disappointment, and dismay. No one was more astonished and dismayed than
the Ministers, who had known nothing of the manifesto until they saw it
in the official Gazette. In the course of the forenoon they paid their
usual weekly visit to Tsarskoe Selo, and respectfully submitted to the
Emperor that such a document must have a deplorable effect on public
opinion. In consequence of their representations his Majesty consented
to supplement the manifesto by a rescript to the Minister of the
Interior, in which he explained that in carrying out his intentions for
the welfare of his people the Government was to have the co-operation of
"the experienced elements of the community." Then followed the memorable
words: "I am resolved henceforth, with the help of God, to convene the
most worthy men, possessing the confidence of the people and elected
by them, in order that they may participate in the preparation and
consideration of legislative measures." For the carrying out of this
resolution a commission, or "special conference," was to be at once
convened, under the presidency of M. Bulyghin, the Minister of the
Interior.
The rescript softened the impression produced by the manifesto, but
it did not give general satisfaction, because it contained significant
indications that the Emperor, while promising to create an assembly of
some kind, was still determined to maintain the Autocratic Power. So
at least the public interpreted a vague phase about the difficulty of
introducing reforms "while preserving absolutely the immutability of
the fundamental laws of the Empire." And this impression seemed to
be confirmed by the fact that the task of preparing the future
representative institutions was confided, not to a constituent assembly,
but to a small commission composed chiefly or entirely of officials.
In these circumstances the Liberals determined to continue the
agitation. The Bulyghin Commission was accordingly inundated with
petitions and addresses explaining the wants of the nation in general,
and of various sections of it in particular; and when the Minister
declined to receive deputations and discuss with them the aforesaid
wants, the reform question was taken up by a new series of congresses,
composed of doctors, lawyers, professors, journalists, etc. Even the
higher ecclesiastical dignitaries woke up for a moment from their
accustomed lethargy, remembered how they had lived for so many years
under the rod of M. Pobedonostsef, recognised as uncanonical such
subordination to a layman, and petitioned for the resurrection of the
Patriarchate, which had been abolished by Peter the Great.
On May 9th a new Zemstvo Congress was held in Moscow, and it at once
showed that since their November session in St. Petersburg the delegates
had made a decided movement to the Left. Those of them who had then led
the movement were now regarded as too Conservative. The idea of a
Zemski Sobor was discarded as insufficient for the necessities of the
situation, and strong speeches were made in support of a much more
democratic constitution.
It was thus becoming clearer every day that between the Liberals and the
Government there was an essential difference which could not be removed
by ordinary concessions. The Emperor proved that he was in favour of
reform by granting a very large measure of religious toleration, by
removing some of the disabilities imposed on the Poles, and allowing the
Polish language to be used in schools, and by confirming the proposals
of the Committee of Ministers to place the Press censure on a legal
basis. But these concessions to public opinion did not gain for him the
sympathy and support of his Liberal subjects. What they insisted on was
a considerable limitation of the Autocratic Power; and on that point the
Emperor has hitherto shown himself inexorable. His firmness proceeds
not from any wayward desire to be able to do as he pleases, but from a
hereditary respect for a principle. From his boyhood he has been taught
that Russia owes her greatness and her security to her autocratic form
of government, and that it is the sacred duty of the Tsar to hand down
intact to his successors the power which he holds in trust for them.
While the Liberals were thus striving to attain their object without
popular disorders, and without any very serious infraction of the law,
Revolutionaries were likewise busy, working on different but parallel
lines.
In the chapter on the present phase of the revolutionary movement I
have sketched briefly the origin and character of the two main Socialist
groups, and I have now merely to convey a general idea of their attitude
during recent events. And first, of the Social Democrats.
At the end of 1894 the Social Democrats were in what may be called their
normal condition--that is to say, they were occupied in organising and
developing the Labour Movement. The removal of Plehve, who had greatly
hampered them by his energetic police administration, enabled them to
work more freely, and they looked with a friendly eye on the efforts
of the Liberal Zemstvo-ists; but they took no part in the agitation,
because the Zemstvo world lay outside their sphere of action. In the
labour world, to which they confined their attention, they must have
foreseen that a crisis would sooner or later be produced by the war, and
that they would then have an excellent opportunity of preaching
their doctrine that for all the sufferings of the working classes the
Government is responsible. What they did not foresee was that serious
labour troubles were so near at hand, and that the conflict with the
authorities would be accelerated by Father Gapon. Accustomed to regard
him as a persistent opponent, they did not expect him to become suddenly
an energetic, self-willed ally. Hence they were taken unawares, and at
first the direction of the movement was by no means entirely in their
hands. Very soon, however, they grasped the situation, and utilised
it for their own ends. It was in great measure due to their secret
organisation and activity that the strike in the Putilof Ironworks,
which might easily have been terminated amicably, spread rapidly not
only to the other works and factories in St. Petersburg, but also to
those of Moscow, Riga, Warsaw, Lodz, and other industrial centres.
Though they did not approve of Father Gapon's idea of presenting
a petition to the Tsar, the loss of life which his demonstration
occasioned was very useful to them in their efforts to propagate the
belief that the Autocratic Power is the ally of the capitalists and
hostile to the claims and aspirations of the working classes.
The other great Socialist group contributed much more largely towards
bringing about the present state of things. It was their Militant
Organisation that assassinated Plehve, and thereby roused the Liberals
to action. To them, likewise, is due the subsequent assassination of the
Grand Duke Serge, and it is an open secret that they are preparing other
acts of terrorism of a similar kind. At the same time they have been
very active in creating provincial revolutionary committees, in printing
and distributing revolutionary literature, and, above all, in organising
agrarian disturbances, which they intend to make a very important
factor in the development of events. Indeed, it is chiefly by agrarian
disturbances that they hope to overthrow the Autocratic Power and bring
about the great economic and social revolution to which the political
revolution would be merely the prologue.
Therein lies a serious danger.
After the failure of the propaganda and the insurrectionary agitation
in the seventies, it became customary in revolutionary circles to
regard the muzhik as impervious to Socialist ideas and insurrectionary
excitement, but the hope of eventually employing him in the cause never
quite died out, and in recent times, when his economic condition in many
districts has become critical, attempts have occasionally been made to
embarrass the Government by agrarian disturbances. The method usually
employed is to disseminate among the peasantry by oral propaganda, by
printed or hectographed leaflets, and by forged Imperial manifestoes,
the belief that the Tsar has ordered the land of the proprietors to be
given to the rural Communes, and that his benevolent wishes are being
frustrated by the land-owners and the officials. The forged manifesto
is sometimes written in letters of gold as a proof of its being genuine,
and in one case which I heard of in the province of Poltava, the
revolutionary agent, wearing the uniform of an aide-de-camp of the
Emperor, induced the village priest to read the document in the parish
church.
The danger lies in the fact that, quite independent of revolutionary
activity, there has always been, since the time of the Emancipation, a
widespread belief among the peasantry that they would sooner or later
receive the whole of the land. Successive Tsars have tried personally
to destroy this illusion, but their efforts have not been successful.
Alexander II., when passing through a province where the idea was very
prevalent, caused a number of village elders to be brought before him,
and told them in a threatening tone that they must remain satisfied with
their allotments and pay their taxes regularly; but the wily peasants
could not be convinced that the "General" who had talked to them in this
sense was really the Tsar. Alexander III. made a similar attempt at the
time of his accession. To the Volost elders collected together from all
parts of the Empire, he said: "Do not believe the foolish rumours and
absurd reports about a redistribution of the land, and addition to your
allotments, and such like things. These reports are disseminated by your
enemies. Every kind of property, your own included, must be inviolable."
Recalling these words, Nicholas II. confirmed them at his accession, and
warned the peasants not to be led astray by evil-disposed persons.
Notwithstanding these repeated warnings, the peasants still cling to
the idea that all the land belongs to them; and the
Socialist-Revolutionaries now announce publicly that they intend to use
this belief for the purpose of carrying out their revolutionary designs.
In a pamphlet entitled "Concerning Liberty and the Means of Obtaining
it," they explain their plan of campaign. Under the guidance of the
revolutionary agents the peasants of each district all over the Empire
are to make it impossible for the proprietors to work their estates, and
then, after driving away the local authorities and rural police, they
are to take possession of the estates for their own use. The Government,
in its vain attempts to dislodge them, will have to employ all the
troops at its disposal, and this will give the working classes of the
towns, led by the revolutionists, an opportunity of destroying the most
essential parts of the administrative mechanism. Thus a great social
revolution can be successfully accomplished, and any Zemski Sobor or
Parliament which may be convoked will merely have to give a legislative
sanction to accomplished facts.
These three groups--the Liberals, the Social Democrats, and the
Socialist Revolutionaries--constitute what may be called the purely
Russian Opposition. They found their claims and justify their action
on utilitarian and philosophic grounds, and demand liberty (in various
senses) for themselves and others, independently of race and creed. This
distinguishes them from the fourth group, who claim to represent
the subject-nationalities, and who mingle nationalist feelings and
aspirations with enthusiasm for liberty and justice in the abstract.
The policy of Russifying these subject-nationalities, which was
inaugurated by Alexander III. and maintained by his successor, has
failed in its object. It has increased the use of the Russian language
in official procedure, modified the system of instruction in the schools
and universities, and brought, nominally, a few schismatic and heretical
sheep into the Eastern Orthodox fold, but it has entirely failed to
inspire the subject-populations with Russian feeling and national
patriotism; on the contrary, it has aroused in them a bitter hostility
to Russian nationality, and to the Central Government. In such of
them as have retained their old aspirations of political
independence--notably the Poles--the semi-latent disaffection has been
stimulated; and in those of them which, like the Finlanders and the
Armenians, desire merely to preserve the limited autonomy they formerly
enjoyed, a sentiment of disaffection has been created. All of them
know very well that in an armed struggle with the dominant Russian
nationality they would speedily be crushed, as the Poles were in 1863.
Their disaffection shows itself, therefore, merely in resistance to
the obligatory military service, and in an undisguised or thinly veiled
attitude of systematic hostility, which causes the Government some
anxiety and prevents it from sending to the Far East a large number
of troops which would otherwise be available. They hail, however, with
delight the Liberal and revolutionary movements in the hope that
the Russians themselves may undermine, and possibly overthrow, the
tyrannical Autocratic Power. Towards this end they would gladly
co-operate, and they are endeavouring, therefore, to get into touch
with each other; but they have so little in common, and so many mutually
antagonistic interests, that they are not likely to succeed in forming a
solid coalition.
While sympathising with every form of opposition to the Government, the
men of the subject-nationalities reserve their special affection for
the Socialists, because these not only proclaim, like the Liberals, the
principles of extensive local self-government and universal equality
before the law, but they also speak of replacing the existing system of
coercive centralisation by a voluntary confederation of heterogeneous
units. This explains why so many Poles, Armenians and Georgians are
to be found in the ranks of the Social Democrats and the
Socialist-Revolutionaries.
Of the recruits from oppressed nationalities the great majority
come from the Jews, who, though they have never dreamed of political
independence, or even of local autonomy, have most reason to complain of
the existing order of things. At all times they have furnished a goodly
contingent to the revolutionary movement, and many of them have belied
their traditional reputation of timidity and cowardice by taking part in
very dangerous terrorist enterprises--in some cases ending their career
on the scaffold. In 1897 they created a Social-Democratic organisation
of their own, commonly known as the Bund, which joined, in 1898, the
Russian Social-Democratic Labour Party, on the understanding that it
should retain its independence on all matters affecting exclusively the
Jewish population.* It now possesses a very ably-conducted weekly organ,
and of all sections of the Social-Democratic group it is unquestionably
the best organised. This is not surprising, because the Jews have more
business capacity than the Russians, and centuries of oppression have
developed in the race a wonderful talent for secret illegal activity,
and for eluding the vigilance of the police.
* The official title of this Bund is the "Universal Jewish
Labour Union in Russia and Poland." Its organ is called
Sovremenniya Izvestiya (Contemporary News).
It would be very interesting to know the numerical strength of these
groups, but we have no materials for forming even an approximate
estimate. The Liberals are certainly the most numerous. They include the
great majority of the educated classes, but they are less persistently
energetic than their rivals, and their methods of action make less
impression on the Government. The two Socialist groups, though
communicative enough with regard to their doctrines and aims, are
very reticent with regard to the number of their adherents, and this
naturally awakens a suspicion that an authoritative statement on the
subject would tend to diminish rather than enhance their importance in
the eyes of the public. If statistics of the Social Democrats could
be obtained, it would be necessary to distinguish between the three
categories of which the group is composed: (1) The educated active
members, who form the directing, controlling element; (2) the fully
indoctrinated recruits from the working classes; and (3) workmen who
desire merely to better their material condition, but who take part in
political demonstrations in the hope of bringing pressure to bear on
their employers, and inducing the Government to intervene on their
behalf.
The two Socialist groups are not only increasing the number of their
adherents; they are also extending and improving their organisation,
as is proved by the recent strikes, which are the work of the Social
Democrats, and by the increasing rural disturbances and acts of
terrorism, which are the work of the Socialist-Revolutionaries.
With regard to the unorganised Nationalist group, all I can do towards
conveying a vague, general idea of its numerical strength is to give
the numbers of the populations--men, women, and children--of which the
Nationalist agitators are the self-constituted representatives, without
attempting to estimate the percentage of the actively disaffected. The
populations in question are:
Poles 7,900,000
Jews 5,190,000
Finlanders 2,592,000
Armenians 1,200,000
Georgians 408,000
---------- 16,495,000
If a National Assembly were created, in which all the nationalities
were represented according to the numbers of the population, the Poles,
roughly speaking, would have 38 members, the Jews 24, the Finlanders 12,
the Armenians 6, and the Georgians 2: whereas the Russians would
have about 400. The other subject-nationalities in which symptoms
of revolutionary fermentation have appeared are too insignificant to
require special mention.
As the representatives of the various subject-nationalities are
endeavouring to combine, so likewise are the Liberals and the two
Socialist groups trying to form a coalition, and for this purpose they
have already held several conferences. How far they will succeed it is
impossible to say. On one point--the necessity of limiting or abolishing
the Autocratic Power--they are unanimous, and there seems to be a tacit
understanding that for the present they shall work together amicably
on parallel lines, each group reserving its freedom of action for the
future, and using meanwhile its own customary means of putting pressure
on the Government. We may expect, therefore, that for a time the
Liberals will go on holding conferences and congresses in defiance of
the police authorities, delivering eloquent speeches, discussing thorny
political questions, drafting elaborate constitutions, and making gentle
efforts to clog the wheels of the Administration,* while the
Social Democrats will continue to organise strikes and semi-pacific
demonstrations,** and the Socialist-Revolutionaries will seek to
accelerate the march of events by agrarian disturbances and acts of
terrorism.
* As an illustration of this I may cite the fact that
several Zemstvos have declared themselves unable, under
present conditions, to support the indigent families of
soldiers at the front.
** I call them semi-pacific, because on such occasions the
demonstrators are instructed to refrain from violence only
so long as the police do not attempt to stop the proceedings
by force.
It is certain, however, that the parting of the ways will be reached
sooner or later, and already there are indications that it is not very
far off. Liberals and Social Democrats may perhaps work together for
a considerable time, because the latter, though publicly committed to
socialistic schemes which the Liberals must regard with the strongest
antipathy, are willing to accept a Constitutional regime during the
period of transition. It is difficult, however, to imagine that the
Liberals, of whom a large proportion are landed proprietors, can long
go hand in hand with the Socialist-Revolutionaries, who propose to bring
about the revolution by inciting the peasants to seize unceremoniously
the estates, live stock, and agricultural implements of the landlords.
Already the Socialist-Revolutionaries have begun to speak publicly
of the inevitable rupture in terms by no means flattering to their
temporary allies. In a brochure recently issued by their central
committee the following passage occurs:
"If we consider the matter seriously and attentively, it becomes evident
that all the strength of the bourgeoisie lies in its greater or less
capacity for frightening and intimidating the Government by the fear of
a popular rising; but as the bourgeoisie itself stands in mortal terror
of the thing with which it frightens the Government, its position at the
moment of insurrection will be rather ridiculous and pitiable."
To understand the significance of this passage, the reader must know
that, in the language of the Socialists, bourgeoisie and Liberals are
convertible terms.
The truth is that the Liberals find themselves in an awkward strategical
position. As quiet, respectable members of society they dislike violence
of every kind, and occasionally in moments of excitement they believe
that they may attain their ends by mere moral pressure, but when
they find that academic protests and pacific demonstrations make no
perceptible impression on the Government, they become impatient and feel
tempted to approve, at least tacitly, of stronger measures. Many of them
do not profess to regard with horror and indignation the acts of the
terrorists, and some of them, if I am correctly informed, go so far
as to subscribe to the funds of the Socialist-Revolutionaries without
taking very stringent precautions against the danger of the money being
employed for the preparation of dynamite and hand grenades.
This extraordinary conduct on the part of moderate Liberals may well
surprise Englishmen, but it is easily explained. The Russians have a
strong vein of recklessness in their character, and many of them are at
present imbued with an unquestioning faith in the miracle-working
power of Constitutionalism. These seem to imagine that as soon as
the Autocratic Power is limited by parliamentary institutions the
discontented will cease from troubling and the country will be at rest.
It is hardly necessary to say that such expectations are not likely
to be realised. All sections of the educated classes may be agreed in
desiring "liberty," but the word has many meanings, and nowhere more
than in Russia at the present day. For the Liberals it means simply
democratic parliamentary government; for the Social Democrat it
means the undisputed predominance of the Proletariat; for the
Socialist-Revolutionary it means the opportunity of realising
immediately the Socialist ideal; for the representative of a
subject-nationality it means the abolition of racial and religious
disabilities and the attainment of local autonomy or political
independence. There is no doubt, therefore, that in Russia, as in other
countries, a parliament would develop political parties bitterly hostile
to each other, and its early history might contain some startling
surprises for those who had helped to create it. If the Constitution,
for example, were made as democratic as the Liberals and Socialists
demand, the elections might possibly result in an overwhelming
Conservative majority ready to re-establish the Autocratic Power! This
is not at all so absurd as it sounds, for the peasants, apart from the
land question, are thoroughly Conservative. The ordinary muzhik can
hardly conceive that the Emperor's power can be limited by a law or an
Assembly, and if the idea were suggested to him, he would certainly not
approve. In his opinion the Tsar should be omnipotent. If everything is
not satisfactory in Russia, it is because the Tsar does not know of the
evil, or is prevented from curing it by the tchinovniks and the landed
proprietors. "More power, therefore, to his elbow!" as an Irishman might
say. Such is the simple political creed of the "undeveloped" muzhik, and
all the efforts of the revolutionary groups to develop him have not yet
been attended with much success.
How, then, the reader may ask, is an issue to be found out of the
present imbroglio? I cannot pretend to speak with authority, but
it seems to me that there are only two methods of dealing with
the situation: prompt, energetic repression, or timely, judicious
concessions to popular feeling. Either of these methods might, perhaps,
have been successful, but the Government adopted neither, and has halted
between the two. By this policy of drift it has encouraged the hopes of
all, has satisfied nobody, and has diminished its own prestige.
In defence or extenuation of this attitude it may be said that there
is considerable danger in the adoption of either course. Vigorous
repression means staking all on a single card, and if it were successful
it could not do more than postpone the evil day, because the present
antiquated form of government--suitable enough, perhaps, for a simply
organised peasant-empire vegetating in an atmosphere of "eternal
stillness"--cannot permanently resist the rising tide of modern ideas
and aspirations, and is incapable of grappling successfully with the
complicated problems of economic and social progress which are already
awaiting solution. Sooner or later the bureaucratic machine, driven
solely by the Autocratic Power in the teeth of popular apathy or
opposition, must inevitably break down, and the longer the collapse is
postponed the more violent is it likely to be. On the other hand, it
is impossible to foresee the effects of concessions. Mere bureaucratic
reforms will satisfy no one; they are indeed not wanted except as a
result of more radical changes. What all sections of the Opposition
demand is that the people should at least take part in the government
of the country by means of freely elected representatives in Parliament
assembled. It is useless to argue with them that Constitutionalism will
certainly not work the miracles that are expected of it, and that in the
struggles of political parties which it is sure to produce the unity and
integrity of the Empire may be endangered. Lessons of that kind can only
be learned by experience. Other countries, it is said, have existed
and thriven under free political institutions, and why not Russia?
Why should she be a pariah among the nations? She gave parliamentary
institutions to the young nationalities of the Balkan Peninsula as soon
as they were liberated from Turkish bondage, and she has not yet been
allowed such privileges herself!
Let us suppose now that the Autocratic Power has come to feel the
impossibility of remaining isolated as it is at present, and that it has
decided to seek solid support in some section of the population, what
section should it choose? Practically it has no choice. The only way of
relieving the pressure is to make concessions to the Constitutionalists.
That course would conciliate, not merely the section of the Opposition
which calls itself by that name and represents the majority of the
educated classes, but also, in a lesser degree, all the other sections.
No doubt these latter would accept the concession only as part payment
of their demands and a means of attaining ulterior aims. Again and
again the Social Democrats have proclaimed publicly that they desire
parliamentary government, not as an end in itself, but as a stepping
stone towards the realisation of the Socialist ideal. It is evident,
however, that they would have to remain on this stepping stone for
a long series of years--until the representatives of the Proletariat
obtained an overwhelming majority in the Chamber. In like manner the
subject-nationalities would regard a parliamentary regime as a mere
temporary expedient--a means of attaining greater local and national
autonomy--and they would probably show themselves more impatient than
the Social Democrats. Any inordinate claims, however, which they might
put forward would encounter resistance, as the Poles found in 1863, not
merely from the Autocratic Power, but from the great majority of the
Russian people, who have no sympathy with any efforts tending to bring
about the disruption of the Empire. In short, as soon as the Assembly
set to work, the delegates would be sobered by a consciousness of
responsibility, differences of opinion and aims would inevitably appear,
and the various groups transformed into political parties, instead of
all endeavouring as at present to pull down the Autocratic Power, would
expend a great part of their energy in pulling against each other.
In order to reach this haven of safety it is necessary to pass through
a period of transition, in which there are some formidable difficulties.
One of these I may mention by way of illustration.
In creating parliamentary institutions of any kind the Government could
hardly leave intact the present system of allowing the police to arrest
without a proper warrant, and send into exile without trial, any one
suspected of revolutionary designs. On this point all the Opposition
groups are agreed, and all consequently put forward prominently the
demand for the inviolability of person and domicile. To grant such a
concession seems a very simple and easy matter, but any responsible
minister might hesitate to accept such a restriction of his
authority. We know, he would argue, that the terrorist section of the
Socialist-Revolutionary group, the so-called Militant Organisation,
are very busy preparing bombs, and the police, even with the extensive,
ill-defined powers which they at present possess, have the greatest
difficulty in preventing the use of such objectionable instruments
of political warfare. Would not the dynamiters and throwers of
hand-grenades utilise a relaxation of police supervision, as they did in
the time of Louis Melikof,* for carrying out their nefarious designs?
* Vide supra, p. 569.
I have no desire to conceal or minimise such dangers, but I believe they
are temporary and by no means so great as the dangers of the only other
alternatives--energetic repression and listless inactivity. Terrorism
and similar objectionable methods of political warfare are symptoms of
an abnormal, unhealthy state of society, and would doubtless disappear
in Russia, as they have disappeared in other countries, with the
conditions which produced them. If the terrorists continued to exist
under a more liberal regime, they would be much less formidable, because
they would lose the half-concealed sympathy which they at present enjoy.
Political assassinations may occasionally take place under the most
democratic governments, as the history of the United States proves,
but terrorism as a system is to be found only in countries where the
political power is concentrated in the hands of a few individuals; and
it sometimes happens that irresponsible persons are exposed to terrorist
attacks. We have an instance of this at present in St. Petersburg.
The reluctance of the Emperor to adopt at once a Liberal programme is
commonly attributed to the influence of two members of the Imperial
family, the Empress Dowager and the Grand Duke Vladimir. This is a
mistake. Neither of these personages is so reactionary as is generally
supposed, and their political views, whatever they may be, have no
appreciable influence on the course of affairs. If the Empress Dowager
had possessed the influence so often ascribed to her, M. Plehve would
not have remained so long in power. As for the Grand Duke Vladimir, he
is not in favour, and for nearly two years he has never been consulted
on political matters. The so-called Grand Ducal party of which he is
supposed to be the leader, is a recently invented fiction. When in
difficulties the Emperor may consult individually some of his near
relatives, but there is no coherent group to which the term party could
properly be applied.
As soon as the Autocratic Power has decided on a definite line of
action, it is to be hoped that a strong man will be found to take the
direction of affairs. In Russia, as in other autocratically governed
countries, strong men in the political sense of the term are extremely
rare, and when they do appear as a lusus naturae they generally take
their colour from their surroundings, and are of the authoritative,
dictatorial type. During recent years only two strong men have come to
the front in the Russian official world. The one was M. Plehve, who
was nothing if not authoritative and dictatorial, and who is no longer
available for experiments in repression or constitutionalism. The other
is M. Witte. As an administrator under an autocratic regime he has
displayed immense ability and energy, but it does not follow that he is
a statesman capable of piloting the ship into calm waters, and he is not
likely to have an opportunity of making the attempt, for he does not--to
state the case mildly--possess the full confidence of his august master.
Even if a strong man, enjoying fully the Imperial confidence, could be
found, the problem would not be thereby completely and satisfactorily
solved, because an autocrat, who is the Lord's Anointed, cannot delegate
his authority to a simple mortal without losing something of the
semi-religious halo and the prestige on which his authority rests.
While a roi faineant may fulfil effectively all the essential duties of
sovereignty, an autocrate faineant is an absurdity.
In these circumstances, it is idle to speculate as to the future. All
we can do is to await patiently the development of events, and in all
probability it is the unexpected that will happen.
The reader doubtless feels that I am offering a very lame and impotent
conclusion, and I must confess that I am conscious of this feeling
myself, but I think I may fairly plead extenuating circumstances.
Happily for my peace of mind I am a mere observer who is not called upon
to invent a means of extricating Russia from her difficult position.
For that arduous task there are already brave volunteers enough in
the field. All I have to do is to explain as clearly as I can the
complicated problem to be solved. Nor do I feel it any part of my duty
to make predictions. I believe I am pretty well acquainted with the
situation at the present moment, but what it may be a few weeks hence,
when the words I am now writing issue from the press, I do not profess
to foresee.