Except that this was Russia.
The first Duma of the Russian state was organized as follows. Elections were held in which most Russian men could vote, but they did so grouped by class, each class able to send only so many deputies. The arithmetic of this system meant that each vote of a gentleman like Bobrov was worth that of three merchants, fifteen peasants, or forty-five urban workers. At the very time when the voting was taking place, however, the government also issued a package known by the old-fashioned title of Fundamental Laws. These added a second chamber on top of the first, half appointed by the Tsar and the rest selected by the most conservative elements. This effectively hamstrung the Duma. ‘Just in case they wanted to do anything,’ Nicolai Bobrov commented wryly. Even if the two houses were in agreement, they still had no real control over the bureaucracy who actually ran the empire. Further, the Tsar confirmed the autocracy, reserved the right to dissolve the Duma at his pleasure and affirmed that, whenever the Duma was not in session, he could govern by emergency decree as he saw fit.
‘In short,’ Nicolai had summarized, as these measures became known, ‘it’s very Russian. It’s a parliament – and it isn’t. It can talk – but it can’t act. The Tsar gives – and the Tsar takes away.’
Why then, as he walked into Mrs Suvorin’s drawing room that evening, should he have been so pleased? The answer was: two simple reasons. First the Socialists had boycotted the entire proceedings, and so put up few candidates; second, the Tsar’s assumption that the majority of the gentry and of the peasants would be loyal and vote for conservative candidates was completely wrong. The overwhelming majority voted against the regime – and returned a large number of progressive liberals. ‘And do you know,’ Nicolai declared gleefully to his wife, ‘I’m not sure next time I won’t stand myself.’ And so as he entered the room, he looked about him with interest.
Mrs Suvorin greeted him pleasantly. ‘I have done my work well,’ she smiled. ‘We have someone from almost every political party here.’
Nicolai smiled. It was typical of the situation in tsarist Russia that at present almost all the political parties remained, technically, illegal. The Duma was beginning its deliberations arranged in parties which, officially, did not exist!
Her claim was true. Nicolai soon identified men of impeccable right-wing credentials who wanted the Duma abolished. ‘Friends for you,’ he said with a grin to his son. There were conservative liberals who wanted the Duma to cooperate with the Tsar; and there were men like himself, Constitutional Democrats, known as Cadets for short, who were determined to push the Tsar towards a proper democracy. ‘And what about the parties of the left?’ he asked her.
There were two of these nowadays. There were the Socialist Revolutionaries, who represented the peasants, but some of whom were unfortunately dedicated to terrorism. ‘I’m short there,’ his hostess remarked lightly. ‘Though if a bomb goes off, I suppose I’ll know I had one after all.’ And there was the party of the workers, the Social Democrats. ‘And there I have done better. Come and meet my brother-in-law: Professor Peter Suvorin.’
Peter and Rosa Suvorin did not often come to his brother’s huge house. Not that they were unwelcome: the two brothers were fond of each other; but their ways had long since parted. Rosa and Mrs Suvorin had little to say to each other, and Peter found that there was a subtle patronage towards him in her manner which plainly said: ‘I shall be charming, of course, but you are a poor, unfortunate creature.’ Indeed, but for one circumstance the two families might scarcely have met at alclass="underline" and this was the friendship of their children.
Three children had been born to Rosa, but only one had lived: Dimitri, a dark-haired little boy three years Nadezhda’s senior. They had first met one Christmas when Nadezhda was three, and had at once taken a liking to each other. Since the girl constantly asked for him, Dimitri was frequently invited, although for some reason Mrs Suvorin never cared to let her daughter go to her cousin’s modest house. But it seemed to please her to see the children together and she would say to Rosa, with obvious sincerity: ‘It’s so nice for Nadezhda to have another child to play with.’
But tonight Mrs Suvorin had been positively anxious to see the Marxist professor. ‘He is my link to all these people on the far left,’ she had said to her husband. ‘And I think it’s time I came to understand them better.’
She knew a little about the Social Democrats. She was aware that they had split, in recent years, into two camps, the smaller of which was the more extreme. ‘With typical Russian confusion,’ Vladimir had remarked, ‘the majority call themselves the little party, and the minority call themselves the big party – the Bolsheviks.’ Mrs Suvorin was sure that kindly Peter must belong to the less extreme majority, but she was curious about the Bolsheviks, and a few days before had asked him: ‘Do you know any of these fellows? What are they like? Could you bring one to our house?’ To which Peter had replied: ‘I do know such a man who’s in Moscow at present. But I don’t suppose he’d come.’ ‘Ask him anyway,’ she had requested, which Peter had done.
Nicolai Bobrov was curious to meet Peter Suvorin, whom he only vaguely remembered from his youth; and the two men found they liked each other. ‘We Cadets,’ Bobrov assured him, ‘are going to oppose the Tsar all the way until he gives us a real democracy.’
‘We both want that,’ Peter agreed pleasantly. ‘But we want democracy to usher in the revolution, and you want it to avoid the revolution!’ In answer to Nicolai’s further question he gave his opinions of the future freely. ‘The workers’ organization will be the key to everything now,’ he explained. ‘And the Marxist’s job is to keep them political, committed to a Socialist revolution when the time is ripe.’
‘Who will do that?’ Bobrov asked.
‘In the western provinces, the Jewish workers’ organization, the Bund,’ Peter answered. He was sorry that his earlier efforts to persuade the eager young Jewish reformers not to follow their own path had failed. But he could not deny that the Jewish Bund had been solid and strong in the months of crisis; and they were good Marxists.
‘And in the rest of Russia?’
Peter smiled. ‘The new workers’ committees. They got started last year and they’re very effective. Political cells in every city. They’re the answer.’
‘What do you call them?’ Nicolai asked.
‘We call them Soviets,’ the professor replied.
Nicolai shrugged. It seemed to him that if the Duma did its work well, these Soviets would soon be forgotten.
While they talked, he found himself, from time to time, watching his host and hostess as they moved in their separate paths about the room. There was no doubt about it, they were very good at managing these things. Mrs Suvorin was stately. She had a knack of moving from group to group with a quiet grace that earned the respect of every woman, and left every man surreptitiously gazing after her. She flirts by not flirting, he realized. As for Vladimir, the men liked and respected him, but with the women, one could see, he had a special talent. Why was it that they seemed to flush with pleasure when he talked to them? After observing him a little while, Nicolai thought he saw. He understands the way they think, he decided. He gets inside their minds. It was another facet of his extraordinary intelligence, and Nicolai suddenly wondered: Is he unfaithful to her, perhaps? He had no doubt that many women in the room would gladly have encouraged any interest Suvorin showed.
Nicolai was still musing in this manner when he noticed that Vladimir was talking to Rosa Suvorin. Nicolai also noticed that Vladimir’s usual comfortable smile had disappeared. His face wore a look of tender concern and he was speaking to her earnestly. Whatever was he saying with such urgency? Peter too was now looking at his wife with puzzlement. Rosa, looking suddenly very pale and tired, was shaking her head, apparently resisting him. Then, giving her arm a gentle squeeze, Vladimir moved away, while Rosa suddenly turned away towards a window. To Nicolai Bobrov, and no doubt to Peter, it seemed rather strange. And Nicolai would have thought more about it if, at this moment, something had not happened to deflect everyone’s attention.