I spent the whole of yesterday and most of the day before in the Duma, and listened to a great many speeches. The most salient fact about the sittings of the Duma is their extreme orderliness. People say that this is because the members are new to their business and that the Duma will soon learn to be as disorderly as the House of Commons. It is a fact, of course, that the absence of conflict arising from the friction between sharply-defined parties contributes to the general harmony. But I doubt if the Duma will ever be a very turbulent Parliament. Russians have a peculiar talent for listening to public speaking. I have noticed this constantly. I have sometimes wondered, for instance, whether it was possible for a play to be hissed off the stage in Russia just because it is tedious. A Russian audience seems to me capable of listening patiently to act after act of uneventful and colourless dialogue, to things which would drive an Italian audience to frenzy in five minutes, and would bore the British public into throwing a dead cat on the stage. When they act “Julius Cæsar” in Russia the scene in which Mark Antony makes his speech loses half its effect by the attitude of the crowd on the stage, who stand listening in perfect silence, like moujiks listening to a sermon in church. Yesterday the Duma sat from 11.30 a.m. until past midnight, with a very short interval. The weather was stiflingly hot, and yet the House listened to a series of not very lively speeches, not only with decorous patience, but with keen interest. The most striking orators so far seem to be Professor Kovolievski, and MM. Rodichev and Aladin, the first being remarkable for his perfect naturalness, the second for his rather theatrical eloquence, which, I confess, does not appeal to me personally, but pleases most people, and the third for his uncompromising directness of speech and powerful driving force. There are others besides these, and among them some of the peasants, who speak extremely well. I asked a peasant who spoke best. He said: “Rodichev spoke very well, and Jilkin (principal representative of the peasant group) spoke well and quietly.” I mentioned Aladin. “He is an angry speaker,” he said. “He knows, but he ought to speak more gently.” M. Aladin has spent many years in England, whither he went as an immigrant. Mirabeau heard Robespierre speak at the States-General (I think), and said: “That young man will go very far, for he believes everything he says.” I think this would apply to M. Aladin. I heard some one say to a peasant who came from the South of Russia: “You should think of your common interests; if each class only thinks of itself what will happen? Do you think that one can be happy just by possessing land?” Then, in the course of discussion on the state of the peasants in Russia, he suddenly asked: “How long ago is it since Christ died?” When he was told he answered: “When will people begin to be Christians?”