A murmur of assent rolled round the room. Such boldness of speech in the midst of so large a company amazed me. Six or even four months before such daring was unheard of. “When you say you want a change of government, what do you mean?” I asked. “We want a people’s government,” answered a swarthy-faced man who leaned far over an adjoining table. “We want a real Duma.” “But you had a Duma, and look what became of it,” I replied. “We don’t want that kind of a Duma,” he persisted. “We want a Duma that can do something for the people--” “A constituent assembly,” interrupted a younger man. It did not seem possible that these men could be so clear on the situation as their words seemed to indicate, so I said: “You see, I am a foreigner; I know nothing about your conditions. What do you mean by ‘constituent assembly’?” “We mean,” responded the man near me, “a Duma that can make all of the laws. We don’t want another Duma that is hampered by a lot of laws at the start. We don’t want any ministers except those appointed by this Duma, and we don’t want any other officials who are not appointed by our Duma. That is what we mean by constituent assembly.” Whether this extraordinary development was the result of agitation, or of the peasants’ own progress toward a political concept, I did not then know. But there it was--a hundred peasants, in what amounted to a meeting, declaring for a “constituent assembly,” and explaining with perfect clearness and lucidity what it was they wanted to abolish, and what they hoped to attain. “Have you seen the Viborg manifesto?” I asked. “Of course we have read it,” they exclaimed, laughing. “What do you think about it?” “It is foolish,” answered one of the older men. “Stop paying taxes? We have not paid direct taxes in two years. Of course we shall not pay any this year. But can we stop drinking tea and vodka? Can we stop using matches? As for not sending soldiers to the army--suppose we don’t. Five soldiers are soon due from this village. Suppose we don’t send them--what will happen? Cossacks will come. The whole village will have to defend those five men. That will mean bloodshed. Is it not better that we should get every one of those men to promise that they will never shoot at their brothers? If we do this we can accomplish the same result without spilling blood in the streets of our village.” One of the Constitutional Democratic Duma deputies from this province was urging a group of peasants to accept the Viborg manifesto, when up spoke a canny muzhik and said: “You ask us to stop giving taxes to the government. That means stop drinking tea and vodka. Very good. But you are a lawyer--will you stop putting stamps on all of your papers, and documents, and letters?”