A fortnight after the revolution I went to St. Petersburg to see the members of the new Provisional Government. Prince Lvoff, the Prime Minister, was my intimate friend. With most of the others I had been in close contact for the past two years. Men like Shingareff, a St. Petersburg doctor, Kokoshkin, the great Moscow expert on international law, and Manuiloff, the rector of Moscow University, were men of the highest integrity and ability.
To the English Liberal Cabinet of 1906 they would have been an addition of strength and an ornament of distinction. They were too gentle to deal with the turbulent elements in the Soviets, which had made the revolution and which now virtually controlled the Duma.
Before catching my train, I dined with Chelnokoff, who had been appointed Commissar for Moscow. He gave me a forecast of what I might expect to find. His own position was becoming unbearable. He confessed that he had no chance of surviving the new elections, which now of course had been prescribed on a basis of universal suffrage for every municipality and every Zemstvo in Russia. Lvoff's reign, he said, would be no longer than his own.
The most phlegmatic of men, he spoke without anger or prejudice. I felt that he was right. Already "a free and unfettered democracy" had no use for the Liberal leaders whose cry for years had been "trust the people."I found Prince Lvoff at the Taurid Palace amid a scene of indescribable confusion. He had been presiding at a Cabinet meeting. Secretaries kept rushing into his room with papers to sign, decisions to be taken. He would start to talk to me, and then the telephone would ring. In the corridor outside, deputations from the front, from the villages, from goodness knows where, were waiting to see him. And in this restless, bustling turmoil there was not one man or woman who seemed capable of protecting the Prime Minister or relieving the burden on his shoulders. Every one seemed to be playing a game of general post to escape from responsibility. I longed for a Miss Stevenson to send the whole pack of delegations about their business and to put some order into this warren of chaos.
Our conversation was conducted in snatches.
Finally he gave it up. "You see how it is," he said. "We are doing our best, but there is so much to do. Come and see me tonight at my flat at twelve o'clock."
He ran his hand through his grey beard and looked at me with a flickering smile. He looked tired and wan, and his eyes, small at all times, had almost vanished behind his eyelids. In two weeks he had aged ten years. A man of great charm, he would have made an excellent chairman of the London County Council. He was an ideal President of the Zemstvo Unions, but he was not the stuff of which revolutionary Prime Ministers are made. And yet I doubt if at this period any member of his class could have "held down" his post. Nature brooks no interference with her processes, and the time for dictators had not yet come or had already passed.
I went to see Lvoff at his flat – a modest two-roomed affair where he had remained ever since the night he had arrived from Moscow to take over the reins of the Government. He was still in the same suit. The carpet bag, in which he had packed his clothes for the night, still stood in the hall. My heart went out to him. He seemed so forlorn and alone. As always, he spoke in his rather jerky little monotones. He was a shy man and, although he bore an aristocratic name, more like a country doctor than an aristocrat. To those who knew him slightly he gave an impression of cunning –due actually to his timidity. To those whom he trusted he was open and without restraint. He made no concealment of his fears and anxieties. Russia would come through, but ... Russia would carry on with the war, but ... His whole conversation was a confession of the weakness of his own position.
When I went to see my other Moscow friends in the government, I found the same helplessness, the same apprehensions. There was only one man in the Cabinet who had any power. That was the nominee of the Soviets – Kerensky, the Minister of Justice. The revolution had destroyed my old Liberal friends. Now I had to seek new gods.
Things are getting worse. The revolutioneers does not want to let the Emperor go, fearing intrigues, betrayal and the divulgement of state secrets. The Germans are making unimaginable efforts to break through our frontlines. If they succeed, the way to Petersburg will lie open for them.
Submarines and airplanes spoil the whole poetry of war; I read today the history of the Anglo-Durch wars - what charm was then the war at sea. See more
Dear Vladimir Ilyich and Nadezhda Konstantinovna!
It's only been a week that I'm in the maelstrom of new Russia. The brilliance and power of feeling is such that I won’t even try to convey it. So for now I’ll limit myself to short, concise impressions. See more
One should not turn a blind eye to the difficulties and dangers of the situation. Newborn freedom faces great, perhaps even grave trials. But I look cheerfully into the future. I believe in the vitality and wisdom of our great people, who proved their greatness in a powerful impulse of freedom that overthrew the old regime.
According to what I learned this morning from the Foreign Minister, His Majesty has not yet been approached about it by the Government, as they want first of all to get rid of left-wing opposition to the proposal.
Polivanoff, who is Assistant Minister for War, has arrived. I met him at the staff mess at lunch. He came straight up to me and shook hands most cordially, addressing me as ‘my oldest friend among the Allies’, as I knew him when he was Minister for War. He was in great spirits, said: ‘All is going well, and I like a busy time like this, it suits me. Difficulties and excitement are splendid’. See more
A committee consisting of thirty officers, mostly generals, was appointed under the presidency of General Polivanov, and sat for five hours on alternate nights to draw up regulations for the “ new discipline." It worked through the Duma Military Commission to ascertain the minimum concessions that the Sovyet would accept. The officer members had to neglect important war duties in order to attend. In fact, the war had gone into the background everywhere. The operations staffs of the armies were more occupied with the “ new discipline ” than with the enemy. See more
Alexander Nicolaïevitch Benois, the painter and historian of art and a friend of whom I see quite a good deal, has given me an unexpected call.
Descended from a French family which settled in Russia somewhere about 1820, he is the most cultivated man whom I know here. and one of the most distinguished. See more