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Table of Contents

Importance of movement called Russian revolution—Its varied aspects—Inevitableness of revolution in Russia—Causes—The disease of autocracy—Insincerity of manifesto of October, 1905, seen in gradual withdrawal of constitutional rights then guaranteed—Elements of disintegration in Russian state—Ninety per cent. of Russian people now oppose existing régime—Startling record of killed and wounded in 1906—Compared to French Terror—Length of Russian struggle compared to other revolutions in history—Author’s qualifications for present undertaking—Varied experience among Cossacks, terrorists and peasants.

The Russian revolution is one of the vital issues of the world to-day. The political revolt, presenting, as it does, so many unique and dramatic developments, tends to distract the attention of the world from the broader, deeper, and certainly not less important, phases of the movement which are found in the social and economic upheaval. The working out of these forces—political, social, economic—in one stupendous movement, constitutes one of the great revolutions of history.

Revolution implies absolute change. Whether civil war, or intense parliamentary struggle, or both, is the method of accomplishment, is of small consequence. The ultimate outcome is the same. The present movement of the Russian people toward a changed condition of life is but the manifestation of underlying forces of history and destiny to which all nations must yield. Revolution in Russia during the first quarter of the twentieth century is as inevitable as the bursting of a Pelée or a Vesuvius; as inexorable and pitiless as an earthquake, or the passing of ancient empires.

Revolutions are not made. They are not built upon the propaganda of a political or economic cult. They do not depend upon the will of men—whether rulers or parliaments—as do wars. Revolutions are the result of internal unwholesomeness—disease rooted in the body politic, too deep to be poulticed out by ameliorating reforms. The Russian revolution would be viewed as a world catastrophe were it not that the disease, of which the revolution is but a symptom, is infinitely more of a world menace. That disease is autocracy. Autocracy is a system of government incompatible with twentieth-century civilization. Reforms which are reconcilable to Russian autocracy are inadequate to meet the present needs of the Russian people, and the meeting of these needs necessitates reforms of such far-reaching and radical a nature, that autocracy cannot admit them and continue to exist. Further, certain reforms and fundamental requirements are now so demanding and so acute that autocracy cannot much longer stand out against them. The period of transition from autocracy to constitutionalism, republicanism, or whatever the ultimate form of government accepted in Russia shall be, we call revolution. The word has no arbitrary meaning. It simply designates a period of national upheaval and struggle. In this sense the Russian revolution may be said to have come to a head on “Bloody Sunday,” January 22, 1905, and will culminate only with the capitulation, or overthrow, of autocracy. The abyss toward which the Russian government is now tending is but the Nemesis of history.

The constitution which was wrung from the hands of the emperor on the 30th of October, 1905, when the rising tide of revolution threatened the very palace gates, is being gradually modified and withdrawn piecemeal, and if the emperor has his way not a vestige of it will long remain. The fundamental rights of men, which it pretends to guarantee the Russian people, are as non-existent in the Russia of 1906 as they were in 1806, before the first faint mutterings of the coming storm had been heard. Not one, but all, of the guaranteed rights of that manifesto have been withdrawn under so-called “temporary” laws and regulations, and under the cloak of military law. The rights of free speech, writing, assemblage, inviolability of person and home, still remain utopian dreams of a distant day. This manifesto clearly and unequivocally guaranteed “freedom of conscience, freedom of speech, freedom of association, freedom of public assembly, and real inviolability of personal rights.” And yet of the approximately 486 members of the first Duma—the chosen representatives of the Russian people—one (Professor Hertzenstein) has been murdered by the “Black Hundred”; one priest excommunicated; two members have been beaten; ten are in hiding; five have been exiled; twenty-four are in prison; thirty-three have been arrested and searched; and one hundred and eighty-two are under indictment on the charge of treason.[1] An obviously anomalous situation.

“If a strong, central government becomes disorganized, if inefficiency, or idleness, or above all, dishonesty, once obtain a ruling place in it, the whole government body is diseased.”[2] No modern state, save Turkey, is more universally honeycombed with official inefficiencies and corruption than Russia, and even Turkey’s central government to-day represents more solidity than the Russian. The only possible justification for despotism of any character is in its actual power, and in its fruits. Military despotism in Russia not only broke down, but was hopelessly shattered by the inglorious and ignominious war with Japan. The hold that autocracy once maintained on the Russian people then loosened. It has been steadily weakening ever since Tsushima and the fall of Port Arthur, followed by the shadow of Mukden, which passed westward across the empire. Dishonesty and corruption stamps every one of Peter’s fourteen bureaucratic ranks. The war disclosed an enormous extent of thievery in all departments of the service. Especially sensational revelations came to light in connection with the Red Cross, where the funds were most flagrantly misappropriated—a portion of the spoils even going to the grand dukes. So recently as January, 1907, the Assistant Minister of Interior, Gourko, was involved in one of the most outrageous scandals in all the annals of Russian corruption—namely, the misappropriation of a large per cent. of one of the all too inadequate appropriations of money for the relief of the starving peasants.

A state eaten with official rottenness; an emperor attempting not only to rule but to do the thinking for 142,000,000 of people; an economic condition of such a character that annual famine falls like a pall over vast areas (in the winter of 1906-7 taking within its grasp 30,000,000 of men, women, and children); an army spotted with disaffection; a navy almost chronically mutinous; a people held in artificial tranquillity, through the terrorism of martial law, which now spreads over four fifths of European Russia; a critical financial situation, impending bankruptcy within and the largest foreign loan in history to eventually meet,—these are some of the elements of the Russian situation of the present time which must be met by reforms involving changes so complete as to amount to revolution.

At the beginning of 1907 probably 90 per cent. of the people of Russia were opposed to the present government, for during the past two years even the peasants have had opinions of their own, based on their loss of faith in the “Little Father.” But reigning circles have all of the organized armed force of the country at their command, and so peculiarly effective is the system of discipline employed, that against the unarmed population even of overwhelming superiority in point of numbers, this position is tenable for a surprising time. On the other hand, a trifling incident might turn the scales in a night. In a phrase used by Professor Miliukoff, the Russian situation to-day presents: “An incompetent government opposed by a thus far incapable revolution.” The government, unable itself to administer or to rule, is yet able to disorganize the ranks of revolution and to terrorize into inactivity a large portion of the country. The revolution, at the same time, while unable to muster open organization of fighting strength sufficient to overthrow the government, is able to harass and embarrass the government at every point and gradually to force it further and further into an impasse from which it can never emerge.

During the year 1906, according to official figures, more than 36,000 people were killed and wounded in revolutionary conflict; over 22,000 suffered in anti-Semitic outbreaks, most of which were promoted by governmental agents; over 16,000 so-called agrarian disorders occurred. Political arrests were so constant that during at least two months of the year—January and July—the aggregate number of men and women dragged from their homes and imprisoned or exiled was estimated at 25,000 per month. Late in the summer of 1906 Premier Stolypin inaugurated the drumhead field courts-martial, which became immediately so active that according to an official statement issued on March 5, 1907, 764 persons had been executed—an average of five daily.

These figures loom large indeed when it is recalled that in France, during the Terror, only 2,300 heads fell from the guillotine block, and that during the entire French Revolution only about 30,000 lives were sacrificed.

Here is clear indication of constant activity on both sides. In spite of this loss of life, this spent and often misspent energy, unnumbered crimes against generations unborn, it must be admitted that the progress of revolution is never comparably swift to the movement of wars. By the very nature of revolutionary struggles they must drag. In England the Revolution lasted from 1640 to 1689; in France twelve years of constant conflict and struggle were followed by decades of unrest and periodic disturbance; in Italy the fight dragged on from 1821 till 1870; and so will the Russian revolution be prolonged. Compared with the revolutionary movements of history, however, Russia is making rapid progress. The stupendousness of the Russian situation, with a heterogeneous population of 142,000,000 of people scattered over an empire which includes one sixth of the territory of the world, makes an almost unreckonable problem—infinitely more vast and more complicated than the situation in France in 1789.

There are many available books in English, French, and German which present the conditions of Russia on the eve of revolution. The task which I assume is to present a picture of Russia in revolution. The year 1906 may be accepted as a typical revolutionary year. Between January and December of that year I traveled through every section of European Russia, Poland and the Caucasus, and a part of western Siberia. Of the spectacular and dramatic events which characterized the year, I witnessed not a few, but the really significant features of the year are the not less intense phases of the social and economic disturbances, and these I aim to make clear to the average reader.

In thus attempting to present, as it were, a cross section of the revolution, I undertake not so much a difficult task, as one which demands peculiar opportunities and advantages. To forestall natural queries, therefore, I may be permitted to state that my own point of view has been uniquely varied. Shortly after my arrival in St. Petersburg influential friends, affiliated with the court, made it possible for me to join a group of fourteen Cossack officers who were about to journey through the Caucasus. Most, if not all, of these men had formerly been officers of guard regiments and had been temporarily assigned to a Cossack regiment for the war, in order that they might have opportunity to distinguish themselves, thus paving the way for speedy promotion. The commander of the regiment, who was the chief of our party, was an aide-de-camp to the Czar. My particular host was a Georgian prince who has since rejoined his regiment, which is attached to the person of the Empress. To be an officer or even by birth a member of the court party does not naturally preclude liberal or even revolutionary sympathies, but it so happened that all of the officers who made up this little company were staunch supporters of the Czar and of autocracy. All that I witnessed of race clashes; of the pacification of insubordinate villages; the devastation of districts which should have been fertile and prosperous; of pillage, and loot, and the violation of the laws and customs adopted by civilized nations for international warfare, I witnessed, as it were, from the inside. Protected by the officer’s uniform which I wore, I rode with the Cossacks, entered their barracks freely under circumstances where any ordinary traveler would not have been permitted to have passed the lines. I was even accorded the privilege of using my camera at will. Through Great Russia and the provinces I passed as an ordinary traveler, provided with the usual letters of sanction, and permits from central and local authorities, but without special introductions.

In St. Petersburg and Moscow during the session of the first Duma I cultivated the acquaintance of the “intellectuals” who at that time bade fair to be a dominant force in Russia. Men of the type of Professor Paul Miliukoff, Maxime Kovalevsky, Dr. Loris-Melikoff, and other thinkers and scholars who would, if they could, lead Russia through her period of regeneration and reorganization by confining the struggle to the halls of Parliament, dreading as they do, and distrusting bloodshed and civil war. After the dissolution I affiliated almost entirely with the avowedly revolutionary parties. I cultivated members of the military organization and with them visited the barracks at Kronstadt and elsewhere, where I witnessed conspirative revolutionary meetings of soldiers and sailors. Through the courtesy of a local governor I was permitted to visit in prison the most noted terrorist of the year in Russia, Marie Spiradonova; and later, through my revolutionary connections, I established communications with the more active fighting organization known to the world as “The Terrorists.” With their introductions as well as with the introductions given me by the constitutionalists of the Duma, in the late summer and early autumn I traveled eastward through Great Russia, across the tremendous famine belt, passed the Urals and entered Siberia, returning to St. Petersburg across Perm, Vyatka, and Vologda,—provinces of northern Russia. My sole aim during all these journeyings was to acquire as nearly as I could an accurate picture of Russia in revolution. My purpose now is to present as nearly an accurate and truthful a picture of what I saw and of what I learned as possible. When one has witnessed at close quarters the devastations of villages by the army; when one has seen with his own eyes unarmed men, women, and children of tender years shot by soldiers, torn and maimed by swords and bayonets; when one has acquired absolutely an overwhelming proof of official responsibility for massacre; when one has seen homes burned indiscriminately and merely “suspected” revolutionists exiled without even the forms of a trial, one cannot speak with any degree of sympathy for the government which stands behind all of these things. Yet I strive to the uttermost to be fair to that side and to present as cogently as one can the elements of truth to which the government still clings. The point of view throughout is that of an American who is not unmindful of the dramatic elements of the fight nor of the picturesque; and frequently romantic environments of the struggle; at the same time it is of one whose deepest interest lies in the social and economic causes which lie at the bottom of the whole vast movement, and whose previous training has fitted him to watch with a clearer perception perhaps than is usually given to the casual traveler, or newspaper correspondent, the progress of the social and economic development through this period of storm and stress.

THE RED REIGN