One of the first acts of the new minister was the authorizing of a meeting of all the Presidents of the Zemstvos for consultation over national conditions.  When it is recalled that the Zemstvo is a Peasants’ Court, that it is a representative assembly of the humblest class in the Empire, and a gift which accompanied emancipation bestowed for their own protection—­when this is remembered, we realize the full significance of this act of M. Von Plehve’s successor.  This first conference of the heads of the Zemstvos, which met at Moscow, Nov., 1904, by permission of Prince Mirski, contained the germ of a representative government.  It was an acknowledgment of a principle hitherto denied; a recognition never before made of the right of the people to come together for the purpose of discussing measures of governmental policy.

In the meantime the Japanese, irresistible as fate, were breaking down one after another of the supposed impregnable defences about Port Arthur; climbing over hills of their own dead, fathers, sons, and brothers, in order to do it.  Within the beleaguered fort the supply of ammunition was running low, only one-quarter of the defenders were left, and disease was slaying and incapacitating these.  Nearer and nearer came the rain of fire.  In vain they listened for the booming of Kuropatkin’s guns sweeping down from the north.  In vain they watched for the smoke of the long-promised Baltic fleet approaching from the south.  No rescue came.  On the last night of the year, after consultation with his officers, General Stoessel signed the conditions of capitulation to General Nogi.  The key to the Russian power in the East was lost.  When the new year dawned the Japanese flag floated from the Citadel on the Golden Hill, and the greatest siege of modern times was ended.

On Jan. 1, 1905, General Stoessel wrote to his Imperial Master:  “Great Sovereign, pardon us!  We have done everything humanly possible.  Judge us, but be merciful!” He then goes on to state the conditions which would make further resistance a wanton sacrifice of the lives of those remaining in the garrison.

St. Petersburg was stunned by the receipt of this intelligence; and every day added to its dismay:  Oyama, leaving the captured fortress behind him, sweeping the Russians back from Mukden; Kuropatkin sending despairing messages to the Tsar, who, bewildered and trembling before his own subjects at home, was still vibrating between the two widely opposing influences—­the spirit of the old despotism, and that of a new age which clamored to be admitted.

Rescript followed quickly upon rescript; one sounding as if written by de Witte, the other as if dictated by Pobiedonostseff; while alarming rumors were coming hourly from Moscow, Finland, Poland, the Crimea, the Caucasus; and the great fabric before which the world had trembled seemed threatened at every vital point.