We spent the whole of yesterday crossing Finland "of the thousand lakes."
The moment the frontier was passed, how far we felt from Russia! In every town, and even the smallest village, the appearance of the houses with their clean windows, spotless shutters, shiny tiled floors and straight fences, indicated decency, order, domestic economy, a sense of comfort and home. Under the grey sky, the landscape was deliciously pretty and varied, particularly towards evening, when we were between Tavastehus and Tammerfors. See more
The woods, gardens. and meadows wore their young spring green; the rivers tumbled along with a happy murmur, and the limpid lakes were streaked with dark shadows.
Near Uleaborg, this morning, nature assumed a sterner mood. Here and there snowdrifts lay scattered over a barren heath, where scraggy birch trees fought for their lives against' a hostile climate. The rivers foamed in their beds, carrying down huge ice-floes.
Cachin and Montet joined me for a talk in my compartment.
Montet, who had been sullen and self-absorbed since we left Petrograd, suddenly challenged me with:
"Fundamentally, the Russian revolution is right. It is not so much a political as an international revolution. The bourgeois, capitalist and imperialist classes have plunged the world into a frightful crisis they are now unable to overcome. Peace can only be brought about in accordance with the principles of the Internationale. I have come to a very clear conclusion: I've been thinking about it all night: the French socialists must go to the Stockholm Conference to summon a full assembly of the Internationale and draw up the general scheme of peace terms."
"But if the German social democracy refuses the Soviet's invitation, it will be a disaster for the Russian revolution; and France will be involved in that disaster!"
"We gave tsarism a pretty long term of credit; we mustn't be stingy with our confidence in the new regime. The Soviet has assured us that if the Entente will honestly revise its war aims and the Russian army knows that it is now fighting for a genuinely democratic peace, a splendid national revival throughout Russia will result which will be a guarantee of our victory."
I endeavoured to convince him that the Soviet's assurance was quite worthless, because the Soviet can no longer control the mob passions it has released:
"Look at what is happening at Kronstadt and Schlusselburg - only thirty-five versts from Petrograd. At Kronstadt, the commune is master of the town and forts; two-thirds of the officers have been massacred; a hundred and twenty officers are still under lock and key, and a hundred and fifty are compelled to sweep the streets every day. At Schlusselburg, too, the commune reigns supreme, but with the assistance of German prisoners-of-war who have formed themselves into a trade union and impose their will on the workshops. Faced with this intolerable situation, the Soviet is utterly helpless. Admitted, for the sake of argument, that Kerensky succeeds in restoring the semblance of discipline among the troops and even galvanizing them into action, how on earth is he to cope with the administrative disorganization, the agrarian movement, the financial crisis, the economic débâcle the universal spread of strikes and the progress of separatism? ... I tell you, even a Peter the Great would not suffice!"
Montet asked me:
"Is it really your opinion that the Russian army is incapable of any effort?"
"I believe it is still possible to get the Russian army in hand again, and even that it could undertake certain secondary operations before long. But any intense and continuous action, such as a mighty and sustained offensive, is now out of its power owing to the anarchy in its rear. That's why I attach no importance to the sudden national revival the Soviet has promised you; it would simply be a futile demonstration. So the only effect of the pilgrimage to Stockholm would be to demoralize and divide the Allies."
About half-past twelve the train stopped at some tumbledown sheds in a desolate and deserted region. We had reached Torneo.
While the police and customs formalities were in progress. Cachin remarked, pointing to the red flag flying over the station - a dirty, faded, tattered flag:
"Our revolutionary friends might at least afford newer flag to display at the frontier."
To which Montet replied, with a smile:
"Don't mention the red flag; you'll upset the Ambassador."
"Upset me? Not in the least. The Russian revolution can have any flag it likes, even a black flag, provided it is an emblem of power and order. But just look at that rag, which was once purple. It's a fitting symbol of the new Russia: a dirty bit of cloth falling in pieces
The Torneo, which is the frontier here, was still icebound. I crossed it on foot, behind the sledges taking my luggage to Haparanda.
A lugubrious procession passed us - a convoy of Russian wounded, all serious cases, coming from Germany through Sweden. As might be expected, the transport collected to receive them was wholly inadequate, and about a hundred stretchers were laid on the ice, on which these wretched human relics shivered under a thin blanket. What a return to their native land! ... But will they even have a native land to return to?
When I reached the Finland Station this morning, I found Sazonov by the carriage which had been reserved for us. In grave tones he said to me:
"All our plans are changed; I'm not coming with you. . ... Read this!"
He gave me a letter, dated the same night and just put in his hands, in which Prince Lvov asked him to postpone his departure as Miliukov had sent in his resignation.
"I go and you stay behind," I said. "Isn't it symbolical?" See more
"Yes, it marks the end of a political era! ... Miliukov's presence was a last guarantee of fidelity to our diplomatic tradition. What could I do in London now? I very much fear that the immediate future will show Monsieur Albert Thomas what a mistake he has made in siding so openly with the Soviet against Miliukov!"
The arrival of friends, who had come to see me off, put an end to our conversation.
The two French socialist deputies, Cachin and Montet, and the two delegates of English socialism, O'Grady and Thorne, then entered the train. They had come straight from the Tauride Palace where they had spent the whole night conferring with the Soviet.
The train left at 7:40 a.m.
Miliukov gave a farewell luncheon to me, to which the Marquis Carlotti, Albert Thomas, Sazonov, Neratov, Tatischev, etc., were invited.
Gutchkov's resignation and alarmist protest have made them all very gloomy. See more
The tone in which Miliukov thanked me for the help I have given him made me certain that he too feels that his hour has come.
During the last few weeks the Provisional Government has been pressing Sazonov to take up his embassy in London. But he had evaded complying with its request, being apprehensive - only too naturally - about what he would leave behind him and the line of policy Petrograd would impose upon him. In deference to Miliukov's personal request, he has given way and agreed to go.
We leave together to-morrow morning.
The British Admiralty is to send a swift despatch-boat and two destroyers to convey us from Bergen to Scotland.
The War Minister, Gutchkov, has sent in his resignation on the ground that he is powerless to change the conditions under which supreme authority is held, "conditions which threaten to have consequences fatal to the liberty, safety, and indeed the very existence, of Russia."
Generals Gourko and Brussilov have asked to be relieved of their commands. See more
This means the final bankruptcy of Russian liberalism and the approaching triumph of the Soviet.
After several farewell visits at various points on the English Quay, I passed Falconet's monument of Peter the Great. It was bound to be my last chance of seeing this superb evocation of the Tsar legislator and conqueror, a masterpiece of equestrian statuary; so I had my car stopped. See more
During the three and a half years in which I have been living on the banks of the Neva, I have never tired of admiring the imperious effigy of the proud autocrat, the haughty assurance of his features, the despotic force of his gestures, the fine fury of his prancing horse, the marvellous animation of both man and beast, the plastic beauty of the whole group and the grandeur of the architectural substructure.
But to-day one thought and one alone obsessed me. If Peter Alexeievitch could come back to life for a moment, could anything describe his passionate grief on beholding the ruin, or approaching ruin, of his work, the repudiation of his inheritance, the abandonment of his dreams, the dissolution of his empire and the end of Russia's power!
My company of Russian friends has already been widely scattered. Some have gone to take up residence in Moscow, hoping to find the atmosphere there less stormy. Others have retired to their estates, with the idea that their presence will have a good moral effect on the peasants. Others have emigrated to Stockholm. See more
But for all that I managed to raise a company of a dozen or so for a last dinner this evening.
Everyone seemed absorbed in his thoughts; conversation lagged, and the atmosphere was doleful.
Before leaving, all my guests gave utterance to the same sentiment: "To us your departure marks the end of an order. So we shall have long and happy memories of your term of office."
The news of the Russian army is bad. The practice of fraternization with the German soldiers is making headway all along the front.
I lunched at the Italian Embassy with Miliukov, Buchanan, Bratiano (the President of, the Rumanian Council), who has just arrived in Petrograd to confer with the Provisional Government, Prince Scipio. Borghese, Count Nani Mocenigo, and others.
For the first time Miliukov seemed to me shaken in his brave optimism and his confidence and pugnacity. In conversation he affects more or less his old assurance; but the dull tones of his voice and his haggard look reveal only too clearly the gnawing anxiety within. We were all struck by it.
After luncheon Bratiano remarked to me in a woebegone tone:
"We shall lose Miliukov before long... . It will be Gutchkov's turn next, then Prince Lvov, then Shingarev... After that the Russian revolution will sink into anarchy, and we Rumanians will be lost!"
Tears stood in his eyes; but he suddenly flung up his head and recovered himself.
Nor did Carlotti or Prince Borghese conceal their anxiety. The paralysis which has overtaken the Russian army must necessarily release a large number of Austrian and German divisions. Will not those divisions be transferred to the Trentino or the Isonzo to resume the terrible offensive of last May, and in even greater force?
Countess Adam Lamoyska, who arrived here from Kiev yesterday, tells me that she dare not return to her family place at Petchara, in Podolia, which has been her refuge since the invasion of Poland; a dangerous agitation is on foot among the peasants.
"Hitherto," she told me, "they have all been faithful and attached to my mother, who has certainly done everything she could for them. But since the revolution everything has changed. We see them standing about at the castle gate or in the park, pretending to divide up our lands in dumb show. One of them will affect to want the wood by the river; another puts in for the gardens and proposes to turn them into folds. They go on talking like that for hours and do not stop even when my mother, one of my. sisters or myself go up to them."
The same attitude is observable in all the provinces, so it is clear that Lenin's propaganda among the peasants is beginning to bear fruit.
In the eyes of the moujiks that great reform of 1861, the emancipation of the serfs, has always been regarded as a prelude to the general expropriation they have been obstinately expecting for centuries; their idea is that the partition of all land, the tcherny peredel, or "black partition," as they call it, is due to them by virtue of a natural, imprescriptible and primordial right. Lenin's apostles have an easy task in persuading them that the hour for this last act of justice is at length about to strike.
I have already said that the four representatives of French socialism, Albert Thomas, Lafont, Cachin and Montet, have had a university and classical. training, a fact which makes them peculiarly responsive to the influence of oratory and the magic of rhetoric and style. Hence Kerensky's curious ascendancy over them.
I must certainly admit that the Soviet's young tribune is extraordinarily eloquent. Even his least prepared speech is notable for its wealth of vocabulary, range of ideas, rhythm of phrasing, amplitude of period, the lyrical quality of its metaphors and the dazzling flow of words. And what amazing inflections of voice! What elasticity in his attitude and expression! He is successively haughty and familiar, playful and impetuous, domineering and soothing, cordial and sarcastic, bantering and inspired, lucid and mysterious, trivial and dithyrambic. He plays on all the strings and his genius has all forces and artifices at its command.
No idea of his eloquence can be gained by simply reading his speeches, for his physical personality is perhaps the most effective element of his power to fascinate the crowd. He must be heard in one of those popular meetings in which he harangues his audience nightly as Robespierre used to harangue the Jacobins. There is nothing more impressive than to see him appear on the platform with his pallid, fevered, hysterical and contorted countenance.
In his eyes is a look which is misty at one moment and in the next evasive, all but impenetrable between the half-closed lids, or piercing, challenging and flashing. The same contrasts can be observed in his voice, which is usually cavernous and raucous, with sudden explosions of marvellous stridence and sonority. And then from time to time a mysteriously prophetic or apocalyptic inspiration transfigures the orator and seems to radiate from him in magnetic waves. The fierce intensity of his features, the flow of words, alternately halting and torrential, the sudden vagaries of his train of thought, the somnambulistic deliberation of his gestures, the fixity of his gaze and his twitching lips and bristling hair make him look like a monomaniac or one possessed. At such times his audience shudders visibly. All interruptions cease; all opposition is brushed aside; individual wills melt into nothingness and the whole assembly communes together in a sort of hypnotic trance.
But what is there behind this theatrical grandiloquence and these platform and stage triumphs? Nothing but Utopian fantasies, low comedy and self-infatuation.
I have paid a farewell visit to the Grand Duke Nicholas Michailovich.
Not much left of the splendid optimism he affected at the dawn of the new order. He made no attempt to conceal his grief and anxiety. But he still cherishes a hope for some improvement in the near future, which he thinks would be followed by a general recovery and definite revival. See more
But his voice trembled as he took me through the saloons to the vestibule:
"When we meet again," he said, "where will Russia have got to? ... . Shall we ever meet again?"
"You're in a very gloomy mood, Monseigneur."
"How can you expect me to forget that I'm marked down for the gallows?"
To my telegram of the 3rd May, Ribot has replied by asking Albert Thomas and myself to give him our respective opinions.
"Draw up your argument," Albert Thomas said to me; I'll then draw up mine and we'll send them as they are to the Government."
These are my views See more
1. Anarchy is spreading all over Russia and will paralyse her for a long time to come. The quarrel between the Provisional Government and the Soviet shows, by the very length of time it has lasted, that both are important. It is increasingly clear that disgust with the war, abandonment of all the national dreams and a lack of interest in everything save domestic problems are becoming uppermost in the public mind. Cities like Moscow, which a short time past were hot-beds of patriotic feeling, have been contaminated. The revolutionary democracy seems incapable of restoring order in the country and organizing it for the struggle.
2. Ought we to continue to put our trust in Russia and give her more time? No; because even under the most favourable circumstances she will not be in a condition to carry out all her obligations as an ally for many months to come.
3. Sooner or later, the more or less complete paralysis of Russia's effort will compel us to revise the decisions we had all come to on Eastern questions. The sooner the better, as the prolongation of the war involves France in terrible sacrifices of which Russia has not borne her share for a long time past.
4. We must therefore waste no further time but endeavour in all secrecy to find some means of inducing Turkey to propose peace to us. This line of thought necessarily excludes the idea of any reply to the latest note of the Provisional Government, as such a reply would to some extent confirm agreements which have become unrealizable through Russia's fault.
I will now give the views of Albert Thomas:
1. I admit that the situation is difficult and uncertain, but not that it is desperate, as M. Paléologue seems to think.
2. I believe that the best policy is to give the new Russia that confidence we did not refuse to the old.
3. The Government will have to decide about the Eastern policy now put forward by M. Paléologue. I will content myself with the remark that this is not perhaps a well-chosen moment for great new diplomatic combinations in the East. But I have pleasure in observing that, in advising no reply to the Provisional Government's recent note, M. Paléologue himself takes a step in the direction of the revision of agreements. Speaking for myself, I am not opposed to the idea of a strictly secret attempt to induce Turkey to propose peace to us. The only difference between M. Paléologue and myself is that I still believe in the possibility of bringing Russia back into the war by announcing a democratic policy; M. Paléologue thinks that the last chance of attaining that end has gone.
4. Our friendly discussion will put the Government in a better position to view the situation as a whole. I remain of opinion that the policy I suggest is not only the more prudent of the two but more in accordance with things as they are. Nor does it rule out the Turkish scheme; but it strives to bring it about by agreement with the new Russia and not in opposition to her.
I have had a talk with the great metallurgist and financier, Pertilov; we exchanged gloomy forecasts of the inevitable consequences of present events.
"A Russian revolution," I said, "can only be disruptive and destructive. because the first effect of a revolution is to liberate popular instincts, and the instincts of the Russian people are essentially anarchic. Never before have I so well understood the prayer wrung out of Pushkin by Pugatchev's adventure: May God spare us the sight of another Russian revolution, a thing of horror and absurdity!" See more
"You're familiar with my views on the subject. I believe Russia is entering upon a very, very long period of disorder, misery and ruin."
After a moment's solemn silence, he continued with a very tense expression:
"Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, I'll answer your question with a Persian parable:
"In the plains of Khorassan there was once a great drought, from which the cattle suffered cruelly. A shepherd, seeing his sheep on the point of death, sought out a famous sorcerer and said to him: 'Thou art clever and powerful: canst thou not make the grass of my fields grow again?' 'Nothing easier,' replied the other. 'It will cost you only two tomans.' A bargain was struck on the spot, and the magician proceeded at once to his incantations. But neither on the next day nor the days following could the smallest cloud be seen in the sky; the ground became harder and harder; the sheep continued to starve and die. In his alarm the shepherd soon returned to the sorcerer, who overwhelmed him with words of comfort and counsels of patience. But the drought still continued and the ground became utterly baked up. Then the shepherd became desperate, rushed back to the sorcerer and asked him anxiously: 'Are you quite sure you can make the grass of my fields grow again?' 'Absolutely; I've done things far more difficult hundreds of times! I'll guarantee that your fields will be green again. But I cannot guarantee that between now and then your sheep will not all be dead.'
The city now wears its wonted appearance.
But, judging from the arrogant tone of the extremist press, the Government's victory is a precarious one . the days of Miliukov, Gutchkov and Prince Lvov are numbered
About ten o'clock this morning Albert Thomas came to the Embassy as usual: I immediately told him of yesterday's telegram.
He flew into a rage. Striding up and down, he treated me to a torrent of reproach and invective.
But the storm was too violent to last.
After a moment's silence, he crossed the room twice, frowning fiercely' his arms folded and his lips moving as if he were talking to himself. Then his face cleared up, and in a calmer tone he asked:
"What is your objection to my policy?"
"I don't find any difficulty in answering you," I said.
"Yours is a mind formed in the socialistic and revolutionary school; you are also very emotional and possess oratorical imagination. You have arrived here in highly inflammable, stirring and intoxicating surroundings and you've been captured by your milieu."
"Can't you see I'm always keeping a tight hold on myself?"
"Yes, but there are times when you let yourself go. The other night, at the Michael Theatre, for instance. . . ."
Our talk continued in the same strain, incidentally leaving us both exactly where we were before.
Stormy yesterday was unquestionably a triumph for the Government over the Soviet. I have had confirmation of the report that the Tsarskoïe-Selo garrison had threatened to march on Petrograd.
During this afternoon there have been renewed demonstrations.
Whilst I was having tea with Madame P----- on the Moïka about five o'clock, we heard a great din coming from the Nevsky Prospekt, followed by the sound of rifle fire. Fighting was in progress before Our Lady of Kazan.
As I was returning to the Embassy I passed some armed bands of Leninists who were yelling: "Long live the Internationale! Down with Miliukov! Down with the war!"
Bloody collisions continued in the evening.
But the Soviet has taken fright, as it did yesterday. It is afraid of finding itself thrust on one side and supplanted by Lenin. It is also afraid that the Tsarskoïe-Selo troops will march on the city; so it has hastily issued posters with an appeal for restraint and order, "to save the revolution from the catastrophe with which it is threatened."
By midnight peace had been restored.
Yielding to the pressure of the Soviet, Kerensky and, unfortunately, Albert Thomas too, Miliukov has bowed to the necessity of informing the Allied Governments of the manifesto issued on the 9th April to enlighten the Russian nation about the views of the Government of free Russia on the subject of war aims, a manifesto which can be summarized in the famous expression: "No annexations, no indemnities." But he has added an explanatory note which, couched in intentionally vague and diffuse terms, does what is possible to counteract the arguments of the manifesto. See more
The Soviet has been sitting all night, proclaiming its determination to have this note withdrawn and make Miliukov "harmless" in future. In fact, a fierce dispute with the Government is in progress.
There has been much excitement in the streets since early morning. Groups have gathered at all points to listen to impromptu speeches. About two o'clock the character of the demonstrations became more serious. A collision between Miliukov's supporters and opponents took place in front of Our Lady of Kazan and the former gained the day.
Before long the regiments of the garrison emerged from their barracks and marched through the streets of the city, shouting: "Down with Miliukov! Down with the war!"
The Government is in permanent session at the Marie Palace, having firmly decided that this time it will make no further concessions to the tyranny of the extremists. Kerensky alone has refrained from taking any part in its deliberations; he feels that his position as Vice-President of the Soviet leaves him no other course.
This evening the agitation became more intense. More than 25,000 armed men and a huge mob of workmen collected round the Marie Palace.
The Government's position is critical; but its resolution has not wavered. From the top of the steps which give a splendid view of the Marie and St. Isaac Squares, Miliukov, General Kornilov and Rodzianko have been bravely haranguing the crowd.
At length a rumour began to spread that the Tsarskoïe-Selo regiments, which have remained faithful to the Government, are marching on Petrograd. The Soviet seems to think it is true, as it hastily issued an order that the demonstrations are to cease. What will happen to-morrow?
I have been thinking all day over the lamentable mistake Albert Thomas has made in supporting Kerensky against Miliukov. In view of his persistence in what may be called "the revolutionary illusion," I decided to-night to send Ribot the following telegram:
The gravity of the events in progress and the sense of my responsibility compel me to ask you to confirm by direct and express order that you have instructed M. Albert Thomas I am not to communicate with you.
A "concert-meeting" took place at the Michael Theatre this evening: the proceeds are earmarked for the assistance of former political prisoners. Several ministers were present and Miliukov and Kerensky were down to speak. I accompanied Albert Thomas in the great front box which used to be the imperial box. See more
After a symphonic prelude of Tchaikovsky, Miliukov made a speech, a speech glowing with patriotism and energy. It was received with approving cheers from the gallery to the stalls.
After him Kousnietzova appeared on the stage. Shrouded in her tragic beauty, she sang the great air from Tosca in her voluptuous and moving voice. The applause was vociferous.
But even before the audience had calmed down, a hirsute, sinister and fierce-eyed figure rose from a box and yelled out angrily:
"I want to speak against the war, and in favour of peace!"
Uproar. Shouts from all sides:
"Who are you? Where have you come from? What were you doing before the revolution?"
The man hesitated in answering. Then he suddenly folded his arms and thundered out as if in defiance of his audience:
"I've come from Siberia; I was in prison!"
"Oh! Were you a political prisoner?"
"No, I was an ordinary criminal; but I had my conscience on my side!"
This answer, fully worthy of Dostoïevski, aroused a tempest of cheers:
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Speak! Speak!"
He jumped out of the box. He was seized, raised aloft and carried to the stage over the heads of those sitting in the stalls.
Albert Thomas, sitting next to me, was in the seventh heaven of delight. His face beaming, he snatched my hand and whispered:
"It's absolutely glorious! Wonderfully beautiful!"
The convict began by reading letters he had received from the front to the effect that all the Germans ask is to fraternize with their Russian comrades. He developed his theme, but expressed himself awkwardly and groped for his words. The audience was bored and became noisy.
At that moment Kerensky turned up. He was received with cheers and asked to speak at once.
The convict, whom everyone had forgotten, protested vigorously. A few hearty blows convinced him that his presence on the stage was superfluous. He shook his fist and vanished into the wings.
But before Kerensky began his speech, a tenor appeared and sang some of Glazounov's popular airs. As he had a delightful voice and his diction was excellent, the audience, which was now feeling sentimental again, had him back for three more songs.
At length Kerensky occupied the stage; he was even paler than usual and seemed utterly worn out. In a few words he knocked the convict's argument to pieces. But as if another train of thought had passed through his mind, he suddenly gave utterance to the following odd conclusion:
"If you will not believe in me and follow me, I shall give up power. I will never use force to secure the acceptance of my opinions . . . . When a country means to cast itself into the gulf, no human power can prevent it and those who conduct its government have only one course open to them---to retire."
As he was coming down from the stage with a tired and dispirited air, I turned his strange theory over in my mind and felt like replying: "When a country means to cast itself into the gulf, the duty of its rulers is not to retire but to place themselves in its path even at the risk of their lives."
There was another orchestral item and at length came the turn of Albert Thomas to speak. In a short and vehement speech, he greeted the proletariat of Russia and boasted of the patriotism of the French socialists; he again proclaimed the necessity of victory, in the very interest of the future of society, and so forth.
At least nine-tenths of the audience did not understand him. But his voice was so sonorous, his eyes flashed forth such fire, and his gestures were so superb that a torrent of frantic and approving cheers greeted the conclusion of his speech.
According to the orthodox calendar to-day is the 18th April; but the Soviet has decided that we shall nationally adopt the Western style so as to fall in time with the proletariats of all countries and illustrate the international solidarity of the working classes, in spite of the war and the illusions of the bourgeoisie. See more
During the last few days preparations have been in progress for a colossal demonstration on the Champ-de-Mars. The weather has not been favourable. The sky has been livid, the wind cold and biting, and the Neva, which had begun to thaw, has piled up its floes again.
From early morning all the bridges and avenues have been thronged with processions proceeding towards the centre of the city, processions of workmen, soldiers, moujiks, women, and children, ---each preceded by tall red banners which had a fierce struggle with the wind.
Perfect order prevailed. The long snaky lines advanced, retreated and manœuvred as easily as a troop of supers on the stage. The Russian people has a rare sense of theatrical effect.
About eleven o'clock I went to the Champ-de-Mars with my secretaries, Chambrun and Dulong.
The huge square was like a human ocean in which the swaying of the crowd resembled the motion of waves. Thousands of red flags fluttered above these living billows. A dozen military orchestras, distributed at various points, made the welkin ring with the strains of the Marseillaise, alternating with operatic and dance selections. You cannot have a ceremony in Russia without music.
Nor can you have a ceremony without speeches. So the Soviet had posted at fixed intervals motor lorries, hung with red cloth, to serve as platforms. Orators followed each other in endless succession, all of them men of the people, whether wearing the workman's jacket, the soldier's greatcoat, the peasant's sheepskin, the priest's cassock or the Jew's gabardine. They spoke as if they would never stop, gesticulating vigorously. The audience gave them the closest attention. There was no interruption and everyone listened with glazed eye and strained car to these naive, grave, confused and fervent outpourings, replete with illusions and dreams, which have been germinating for centuries in the inarticulate soul of the Russian people. The subject of most of the speeches was social reforms and the partition of the land. The war was only mentioned incidentally, and as an affliction which will soon end in a brotherly reconciliation of all the nations. I spent an hour walking about the Champ-de-Mars and in that time counted about thirty-two banners bearing inscriptions such as: "Down with the War! . . . . Long Live the Internationale! . . . . We want Liberty, Land and Peace!"
As I was returning to the Embassy I passed Albert Thomas, escorted by "Russian comrades"; his face fairly beamed with revolutionary enthusiasm. As we met, he burst out:
"Isn't it splendid! Perfectly splendid!"
It was certainly a splendid spectacle; but I should appreciate its beauty more if there were no war, France were not invaded and the Germans had not been in Lille and Saint-Quentin for the past thirty-two months.
Not until evening did the processions cease to file into the Champ-de-Mars and the orators to follow each other in unbroken succession on the platforms draped in scarlet.
To-day has made a very deep impression upon me; it marks the end of a social order and the collapse of a world. The Russian revolution is composed of elements too discordant, illogical, subconscious and ignorant for anyone to judge at the present time what its historical significance may be or its power of self-diffusion. But if one thinks of the world drama of which it forms part, there is a temptation to apply to it the remark which Joseph de Maistre, in this very city, made about the trench Revolution: " It is not a revolution but an epoch."
The forces of anarchy are swelling and raging with the uncontrollable force of an equinoctial tide.
All discipline has vanished in the army. Officers are everywhere being insulted, ragged and---if they object---massacred. It is calculated that more than 1,200,000 deserters are wandering over Russia, filling the stations, storming the carriages, stopping the trains, and thus paralysing all the military and civil transport services. See more
At junctions in particular they seem positively to swarm. A train arrives: they make its occupants get out, take their places and compel the stationmaster to switch the train off in any direction they like. Or it may be a train laden with troops for the front. The men get out at some station, arrange a meeting, confer together for an hour or two, and wind up by demanding to be taken back to their starting point.
In the Civil Service there is no less disorder. The heads have lost all authority over their subordinates, who in any case spend most of their time in speechifying in the Soviets or demonstrating in the streets.
Of course the food shortage shows no sign of improvement, if indeed it is not getting worse. And yet there are in the stations of Petrograd four thousand wagons loaded with flour. But the lorry drivers refuse to work. Then the Soviet publishes an eloquent appeal:
Do not imitate the infamies of the old regime! Do not let your brothers die of hunger! Unload the wagons!"
The comrade lorry-drivers answer as one man: "We will not unload the wagons, because it is not our pleasure to do so. We are free!!"
Then when the day comes in which it pleases the comrade lorry-drivers to unload the wagons of flour, it is the turn of the bakers to refuse to work. Then the Soviet publishes an eloquent appeal:
Do not imitate the infamies of the old regime! Do not let your brothers die of hunger! Make bread!"
The comrade bakers answer as one man: "We will not make bread, because it is not our pleasure to do so. We are free!"
In the streets many of the izvochtchiks are refusing to keep to the left, because they are free. But as they are not agreed about it, the result is continual collision.
The police, which was the main, if not the only, framework of this enormous country, has simply ceased to exist, for the "Red Guard, a kind of municipal militia instituted in some of the large cities, is nothing but a hoard of outcasts and apaches. And as all the prisons have been opened, it is miraculous that more attacks on persons and property have not been reported.
Yet agrarian disorder is greatly on the increase, particularly in the districts of Kursk, Voronej, Tambov and Saratov.
One of the oddest signs of the general derangement is the attitude of the Soviets and their following towards the prisoners of war.
At Schlusselburg the German prisoners are allowed to go about unattended in the town. Within a distance of five versts from the front one of my officers has seen bodies of Austrian prisoners walking about without let or hindrance. To crown everything, a regional conference of German, Turkish and Austro-Hungarian prisoners has demanded---and successfully---that the "eight-hour day" should be applied to them!
Since the revolutionary drama began, not a day has passed without its ceremonies, processions, charity performances and "triumphs." There has been an uninterrupted series of demonstrations, demonstrations of victory or protest demonstrations, inaugural, expiatory and valedictory. The Slav soul, with its vague and fervent sensibilities, its intuitive notion of the bond of humanity and its violent passion for æsthetic and picturesque emotions, revels and wallows in them. See more
All the clubs and corporations, the political, professional, religious and ethnical associations, have been here to lay their grievances and aspirations before the Soviet.
On Easter Monday, the 16th April, I passed, not far from the St. Alexander Nevski Monastery, a long line of pilgrims who were marching to the Tauride Palace, reciting prayers as they went. They carried large red flags on which could be read: "Christ is Risen! Long live the free Church!" or, "A free and democratic Church for a free People!"
The Tauride Gardens have thus witnessed processions of Jews, Mohammedans, Buddhists, working men and women, peasants of both sexes, school teachers, young apprentices, orphans, deaf mutes and midwives! There has even been a procession of prostitutes! Shades of Tolstoï! What an epilogue to Resurrection!
To-day it was the turn of mutilés of the war, who came in their thousands to protest against the pacifist theories of the war. At their head was a military band, and the front file carried scarlet banners inscribed thus: "War for liberty to our last breath!" or: "Let not our glorious dead have died in vain!" or: "Look at our wounds! They call for victory!" or: "The pacifists are disgracing Russia. Down with Lenin!"
An heroic and pitiable sight! The least damaged of the victims dragged themselves slowly along, keeping line as best they could. Most of them had lost one or more limbs. The worst cases, swathed in bandages, were fixed up on lorries. The blind were led by Red Cross sisters.
This mournful troop seemed a living embodiment of all the horrors of war and to stand for all that human flesh can endure in the way of mutilation and torture. A religious silence greeted them; heads were bared as they passed and eyes filled with tears; a woman in mourning fell to her knees and sobbed as if her heart would break.
At the corner of the Liteïny, where the crowd was thickest and the working-class element best represented, there was loud cheering.
But, alas, I very much fear that among these spectators who came to cheer there is more than one who will go to welcome Lenin to-night. The Russian nation is enthusiastic over "spectacles," whatever their purpose, so long as they affect its emotions and stir its imagination.
As Miliukov told me the day before yesterday, the French socialists, with Albert Thomas to lead them, are making a fine mess of it here!
Disconcerted by the insulting frigidity of the Soviet's attitude towards them, they are under the impression that they can soothe its susceptibilities and gain its goodwill by concessions, obsequiousness and flattery. See more
Their latest invention is to make the restitution of Alsace-Lorraine subject to a plebiscite. They are forgetting that Germany would hear nothing of a plebiscite in 1871, and they affect to be unable to see that an appeal to a popular vote which was organized by the German authorities would necessarily be fictitious, and that the condition precedent to a free vote would be the departure of the Germans across the Rhine---so that we must first win the war at any cost. They also seem to ignore the fact that France, in claiming Alsace-Lorraine, is simply asking that a wrong shall be redressed.
Russian society, by which I mean the highest society in the land, is a curious study at the present moment.
I have observed three currents of opinion, or rather three attitudes of mind, towards the revolution.
In principle, all the former clientèle of tsarism, by which I mean all families contributing, by virtue of birth or office, to the splendour of the imperial order, have remained loyal to the fallen sovereigns. But I have also observed that I hardly ever hear that loyalty expressed unless coupled with severe, acrimonious, angry and bitter criticisms of the weakness of Nicholas II, the errors of the Empress and the baneful intrigues of their camarilla.
As always happens when parties are ejected from power, infinite time is wasted over reminiscences of what has happened, the frantic search for scapegoats and the futile interchange of retrospective hypotheses and personal recrimination. In a political sense, this section, large though it is, will soon cease to count, because it lives on its memories more and more every day, and its only concern with the present is to smother it with sarcasm and invective.
Yet even in these social circles I occasionally derive a different impression, and usually at the close of some evening party when the place-hunters and feather-heads have gone and the conversation takes a more intimate turn. It is then that the possibility of enlisting under the new order is examined in discreet, studied and cautious terms. Is it not making a grave mistake not to support the Provisional Government? Are we not playing the game of the anarchists by refusing the present rulers the help of the conservative forces? Usually there is but a feeble response to this language, a fact which does not make it any less creditable and courageous; for it is inspired by the loftiest patriotism and dictated solely by the realization of public necessities and recognition of the mortal perils with which Russia is menaced. But, so far as I know, not one of those whom I have heard expressing this view has yet dared to cross the Rubicon.
In the higher ranks of society I detect a third attitude towards the new order.
To describe it fittingly would require nothing less than the amusing verve and acid pen of Rivard. I am alluding to the secret activities of certain salons, and the manœuvres of certain pridvorny, clever and ambitious officers or officials whom one sees haunting the antechambers of the Provisional Government, offering their help, cadging for jobs, impudently emphasizing what a valuable example their political conversion would be, speculating with calm effrontery in the prestige of their name and the undeniable worth of their administrative or military talents. Some of them seem to me to have done the turncoat business with remarkable speed and agility. As Norvins said in 1814, "I had no idea that snakes could change their skins so quickly." There is nothing like a revolution to lay bare the depths of human nature, to reveal the reverse of the social facade and show up what goes on behind the scenes of the political masquerade.