Some of the members, mostly Constitutional Democrats, remembered the Tennis Court Oath of French history and had timid ambitions to do likewise. So they hastened to Viborg, in Finland, where, safe from being dispersed by Cossacks or police, they argued, deliberated, and wrangled for a week. Then the governor-general of Finland announced a state of martial law and warned the ex-deputies that the hospitality of Finland could no longer be extended to them. Eager to do something, yet not knowing what to do, they proceeded to issue a proclamation known as the [Illustration: The Duma lobby] Viborg manifesto, in which they called upon the people of Russia to cease paying taxes and to refrain from sending recruits to the army and navy--in other words to become utterly disregardful of all law emanating from any other source than a representative body chosen by the people. The Viborg manifesto was a silly blunder, and no more effective than a blank shell. It showed that eminent academicians, brilliant writers, and earnest patriots do not always make clever statesmen. The government forbade the circulation of the Viborg manifesto, but otherwise paid little attention to the step. Every signer was put under the ban, and it was only a short time after that of the members of the first Duma one had been murdered, one gone insane, two cruelly beaten, ten were in hiding, five were exiled, twenty-four in prison, thirty-three had been arrested and searched, and one hundred and eighty-two placed under indictment on the charge of treason. Shortly after the dissolution a second Duma was announced, to be chosen under very much more restricted voting conditions, and to meet early in the following year. Thus the day of democratic government dawned in Russia. It was like a burst of sunlight through the rift of a stormy sky--and soon shut in again. I asked Mr. Williams Jennings Bryan, who was a visitor to the Duma previous to the dissolution, how he was impressed by the Assembly. “It is the most remarkable body of men on earth to-day,” was his reply. And I believe it was. On the whole, the conduct of the Duma was admirable. I submit that this is true in spite of a good deal of amateurishness and crudeness, in spite of the enthusiasm of a few zealots, in spite even of the blunder of the Viborg manifesto, which after all was the mistake of one party, indeed the mistake of one man. Above all else the men in the Duma were transparently honest, sincerely striving to serve the people they represented. And in Russia, as in more civilized lands, honesty in political life does not necessarily spell success. The conduct of the government toward it was unworthy, insincere, and false. The brief career of this Duma demonstrated the ability of the Russian people to govern themselves--provided they are given reasonable freedom in selecting whom they like for their representatives.