two explanations, they naturally refused the Minister the benefit of the doubt. Quite naturally; for in Russia the representative of the Government is, to the bulk of the nation, what the devil was to medieval Christians. Every stick is good enough to beat him with: all means, however criminal, are permissible if they help to upset his power. Consequently the belief took root that the Cabinet was resolved to destroy with its right hand what it was fashioning with its left. Behind the scaffolding where political builders were at work the Government was really erecting a vast barracks in lieu of a permanent parliament house. Such being the gloomy foreboding, surprise was naturally great when a series of significant facts belied it. The unexpected was again happening; and this time it was a pleasant surprise. The autocracy then had really disappeared, and the millennium was at hand. From one extreme people rushed into the other, in both cases irrationally. A little encouragement, a slight pretext, was all that they needed. Before the deputies arrived in St. Petersburg the outlook had been black and dismal. Once they had come together, spoken, voted, and behaved themselves in European fashion, the world's verdict was not merely quashed, it was reversed, and what had been black became white in a twinkling. And yet the premisses from which the public drew these conclusions were but episodes too slight to serve as the basis for such weighty inferences.

Take for instance the opening of the Duma. It was characterized by an utter absence of pageantry, a minimum of ceremony, and a noteworthy fallingoff of public interest. The monarch kept away from the Tavrida Palace; and the people refrained from gathering in the streets. In one thoroughfare only, hard by the Parliament House,

there was a throng of socialists, revolutionists, unemployed working-men, and hooligans; and from their midst came shouts of "hangmen, murderers, scoundrels, blood-suckers, cannibals," as Ministers or Conservatives went by. It was a detachment of the proletarian army, containing a sprinkling of individuals with blotched faces, bloodshot eyes, heads which Lombroso would have photographed for his album of degenerates, mostly unkempt, unwashed, embittered creatures, who had emerged from the depths to watch the beginning of a social upheaval. On the return of the revolutionary deputies, splutters of enthusiasm broke out in various places. The dwarfed figure of a socialist member, for instance, was lifted high above the level of the crowd, his pale pinched features now rising now falling on the crest of the human wave-an idol of the moment, a symbol of the new order of things. "And after a fiery speech he was solemnly borne away," says an eye-witness, "as a miracle-working image is borne aloft in religious processions." Other human symbols-mostly socialists-were also devoutly carried away, under the shadow of red flags and kerchiefs, to the accompaniment of revolutionary songs chanted by mutinous schoolboys and nominal students. Speeches too were delivered in many tones and strange accents, the gist of them all being that the Duma had come to usher in a new order of things. and that its deputies rely upon the people, who must therefore unite, discuss. arm, and be ready to defend them. In one part of the street an officer was being roughly maltreated by students and working-men. Freeing his hand he drew his sabre and brandished it high above the heads of his assailants. The mounted gendarmes, catching sight of this military man who appeared to be in danger, cantered forward, whereupon the surging throng dashed against

the houses, burst open the gates, and took refuge in the courtyard of the German church.1 The troops were hissed; the mounted police were greeted with the words, "murderers, hangmen"; and almost every recognized servant of the Government was treated as a public enemy. These introductory scenes were significant.

Inside the Tavrida Palace proceedings were orderly and ominous. At the very outset the sheep and the goats were separated. From the "Te Deum" which was chanted by the bishops the members of the Opposition kept away. "They honor neither God nor the Tsar." was the comment of their adversaries. They ought perhaps to have added, "in public." When the monarch's greeting was being read in his own words by his Secretary of State, only the Conservative deputies rose to their feet, all the others remaining seated, although this mark of respect has been universal in Russia for centuries. At the end of the words of the Imperial welcome a member of the Right cried, "Long live the Emperor!" and in response a loud "hurrah" was uttered by the members of the Conservative and Moderate parties, all the others continuing silent and seated. "Tu quoque, fili mi," was the ejaculation of a distinguished dignitary when made aware that ex-Minister Kutler, the Tsar's present pensioner and recent official adviser, deemed the monarch unworthy of any external marks of respect. Such tokens of anti-dynastic feeling were noted all the more observantly and regretted all the more keenly that ex-Minister Kutler and his party constitute the only possible nucleus of a working Duma, the future centre of the legislative assembly, the group without whose efficient co-operation no parliamentary work can be accomplished.

the second Duma sustained its character and played its part. But it is not yet one with the nation either in thought or act. The Constitutional Democratic party, which is incontestably the best disciplined, the most thoroughly trained and enlightened group in the Chamber, uniting with the revolutionists, elected a member of its own party to the post of president, and afterwards chose two vice-presidents. one secretary, and five assistant secretaries, all from the Opposition groups, none of which possessed as many members as the United Right. Yet the United Right was excluded absolutely from each of the eight offices of the Duma, and this with the active assistance of that Centre without whose collaboration the second Russian Parliament will be no more than a public meeting. By friends of Russian freedom this strange act, and the still stranger spirit that inspired it, were deeply deplored; for such intolerance may well be fatal to that community of thought and feeling without which the Russian Sphinx question will not be bloodlessly solved. The beginning of parliamentary wisdom is the fear of intolerance; and that salutary fear has yet to be instilled into the hearts of Muscovite politicians, even of those who possess such long experience and cherish such high aspirations as the "Cadets," who might, if they were well advised, become the real leaders of the Duma.

There had been reason to suppose that they were well advised and would rise to the rôle assigned to them; for, shortly before the Duma met, it was announced that these friends of constitutionalism in Russia would change their tactics in the new Parliament. eschew clamorous attacks on Ministers, and discountenance treasonable appeals to the people. It was added that, instead of trying to take the Government citadel by storm, they would lay

siege to it in a regular way, relying upon parliamentary strategy, patience, and the growing feeling of dissatisfaction in the country. As the "Cadets" are past-masters in the art of parliamentary strategy, having served a long apprenticeship in the Zemstvos, the more moderate parties are at a disadvantage, which is all the greater that it is not felt as such. Members of the Right and Left smile unsuspectingly in presence of serious danger, and blithely walk into the nets spread for them by the wily "Cadets." And it was generally assumed that the Cabinet too, now that it has lost the assistance of M. Gurko, would prove equally simple-minded and gullible. Since then, however, public opinion has undergone a change. M. Stolypin, whose sole claim to distinction was hitherto supposed to rest upon his personal courage and political integrity, is now admired as a parliamentary strategist, a resourceful leader, a forcible speaker, and an eminent statesman. Great things are hoped of him because the little things which he achieved were unexpected.

The Premier quitted his splendid prison in the Winter Palace and entered the Duma on the 19th March, an untried Minister who had come to read a programme and listen with patience to sharp criticism and biting sarcasm; and he left the building that same evening a political Cæsar, veni, vidi, rici writ large in his beaming face. His official declaration, which represented the thoughts of many heads working for several months, was heard in sullen silence. On his lips the magic words had lost their charm. Yet the Minister was definitely promising all the reforms for which thinking Russia has pined since the days of Catherine II, and he was holding out the prospect of others more important which three years ago few would have ventured to hope for. But the promise was unheeded, and

the declaration fell flat. Can any good thing come out of the Winter Palace? deputies asked. Even a Magna Carta in the hands of the Tsar's present advisers, some added, would be surely metamorphosed into a law of coercion, and a Habeas Corpus Act turned into a lettre de cachet. Less biassed persons, viewing the official declaration as a list of important reforms which the Government is willing to carry out if the people eschew violence, judged it comprehensive as a programme and suasive as a Ministerial manifesto. But it carried conviction to no one. And M. Stolypin might have gone back to the Winter Palace as he had left it, were it not that the adversaries of the Government helped him to a veritable triumph.

Scarcely had the Premier quitted one tribune when the Socialist deputy, Tseretelli, from the Caucasus, occupied the other: after the Tsar's adviser, the throne-breaker. The party upon whom numerical strength, parliamentary experience, and influential position imposed the obligation of replying to the Minister was that of the Constitutional Democrats. Standing between the Government and its foes, they might have parried the blows aimed at the régime without running any risk. But they preferred to step aside and let them fall upon M. Stolypin. With that object in view they had announced that they would waive their right to speak and merely submit an order of the day without any comment upon the official announcement. If all fractions of the Opposition had followed their example, the plan of contemptuously ignoring the Cabinet might perhaps have succeeded. But the scheme was thwarted by the Social Democrats. Their spokesman, Tseretelli, in a speech whose inordinate length was not fully compensated by its fire and eloquence. addressed the people over the heads of the deputies, exhorting

them to organize, unite, keep their powder dry, and rely upon their own right arm. The speech was a vade mecum for Russian malcontents, the quintessence of the revolutionary catechism, an inflammatory appeal to the people of Russia composed for circulation through the length and breadth of the Empire. Intense and ruthless class hatred was the keynote of this warsong, the like of which was never before chanted in the hearing of the Tsar's subjects, in one of the monarch's own palaces. The series of similar discourses which have followed will do more for the cause of revolution in Russia than all the secret agitation and all the millions of leaflets by means of which anarchists, revolutionists, and socialists are rousing the people to revolt. Comrade Tseretelli is a Tyrtæus whose chants are in prose. The Christian meekness and rapt attention with which his Majesty's Cabinet listened to this call of the muezzin of the revolution from the minaret of the Duma constitute one of the bitterest of the many bitter ironies of the present situation.

Comrade Tseretelli's speech was not the only exhortation to the people. Other extremists took up the song of subversion right lustily, the stirring strains of which caused the hearts of millions to thrill on the morrow. And the Cabinet Ministers looked on the while. as the child described by Victor Hugo contemplated and enjoyed the pretty flames that were devouring the house in which it was playing. The rhetoric of the deputies of the Right was just good enough to serve as a foil for the vigorous eloquence of these political iconoclasts. One Conservative speaker had the doubtful taste to sneer at the foreign accent of the Georgian socialist, instead of expressing satisfaction that members of other nationalities should be able to utter their thoughts in the language of their rulers.

One

At last the Prime Minister, taking everybody by surprise, rose and delivered the short, dignified speech which has made him famous. The acceptable moment had come, and he utilized it. He and his colleagues had spent several hours in the stuffy air of the Duma, attentive, collected, respectful; and the general impression was that they had had quite enough of word-weaving and would gladly retire. But the impression was erroneous. Stolypin had carefully followed the debates, perceived his opportunity, and then said a strong word at the right moment. The gist of his utterance was this. "If you have come here to work for the people who delegated you, I will stand by you and co-operate, with

M.

you. Even if your schemes should conflict with mine, unfold them none the less. I will bring an open mind, a sympathetic disposition, and a spirit of compromise to the study of your projects. Give me a trial and you will find me even better than my word. But, if you have not come for legislative work, if your mission is subversive-well, you will find me prepared for that contingency also. As for the long speeches of the revolutionary orators, they may be summarized in two words, which they address to the Government-Hands up! To those two words I make answer, 'You shall not frighten me.' Bear well in mind that this Ministerial bench is not a prisoners' dock. Here sit the members of his Majesty's Government, which is,

and shall continue to be, Russian and resolute."

Such was the drift of the speech of the day. There was no statesmanship in the ideas or eloquence in the words; but everybody felt that there was a living and self-respecting man behind them, who had spoken with sincerity and would act with energy. And the crowd bowed down before him. After that M. Stolypin rose to his full height, a Brobdingnagian among Lilliputians. That same day the Tsar, who was kept well-informed of everything that was going on at the Tavrida Palace, sent a letter of thanks to the Premier such as no other Russian Minister had ever received from his Imperial master. It was couched in terms which are said to have caused intense pleasure to the recipient. Flushed with success, M. Stolypin forgot his caution and actually walked down the Nevsky unescorted and unattended.

Since then the Duma has witnessed tournaments of rhetoric and contests of strategy, but has done no stroke of solid work. Day after day the Ministerial benches have been occupied by officials who fret and chafe at the life of forced idleness-a life made almost intolerable by the obligation of listening with seeming respect to the lisping of political children at their lessons. Everybody feels impelled to speak, nobody is moved to work. The Left alone is accomplishing its mission steadily, delivering violent speeches, having them printed and distributed. and keeping in close touch with the revolutionary organizations in the country. For the deputies of those groups the Tavrida Palace is a sort of Roman College of the Propaganda, where black cardinals meet in council, deliberate and direct the campaign. 'The Prime Minister, sitting motionless for hours in the shadow of the tribune, is impatient to be up and doing, and literally jumps at every opportunity

offered him to proceed to business. Thus one day he impulsively applauded the motion of an adversary tending to rescue the Government from the fire and lay it on the gridiron; another day, when asked for his opinion about a proposal before the House, he rose to offer it, but was snubbed by the Speaker gratuitously.

The Parliament is become a mere political meeting. For two days of seven hours each the Duma debated a question which it was eager, yet admittedly incompetent, to solve. A motion had come before the Chamber to repeal, within twenty-four hours, the law creating military field tribunals for the trial of terrorists. A business man would never have begun the discussion, unless, like the revolutionist members, he had ulterior aims in view; for the obnoxious law, being extra-parliamentary in its origin, must be extra-parliamentary also in its end. Promulgated by the Administration acting on its own responsibility, it remains in force for two months after the meeting of the Duma, and is then abrogated automatically. Even if the Duma had been theoretically qualified to raise the question, it would have been well advised to waive its right, because nearly two months would have been needed to carry the motion through the two Chambers and obtain the sanction of the monarch, whereas, in less than two months the law will have ceased ipso facto to have any force. But the Duma acted like the traveller who, having missed his train, refused to wait four hours for the next, and impatiently set out to walk a hundred miles. The level of the debates was below that of a third-class country meeting in England or France. Peasants, working-men, youths, possessed by a fixed idea, uttered aloud snatches of their day-dreams.

The Duma itself resembles a series of numerators to which no common de