"Russia is moving towards inevitable ruin. The Government is utterly powerless. We must have a strong power. Sooner or later we shall have to come to a Dictatorship."
Nobody mentioned restoration or a change of policy in a reactionary direction. The names were mentioned of Kornilov and Brussilov. I warned them against hasty decisions. I must confess that we still entertained the illusory hope that the Government--by internal evolution, under the influence of a new, armed demonstration on the part of the anti-National extremist elements towards which they were so lenient--would realise the futility and hopelessness of continuing in their present position and would come to the idea of power vested in one man, which might be achieved in a constitutional manner. The future seemed pregnant with disaster in the absence of a truly lawful power. I pointed out that there were no military leaders enjoying sufficient authority with the demoralised soldiery, but that if a military dictatorship should become necessary for the State and practicable, Kornilov was already very much respected by the officers, whereas Brussilov's reputation had been injured by his opportunism.
In his book Kerensky says that "Cossack circles and certain politicians" had suggested repeatedly to him that the impotent Government should be replaced by a personal dictatorship. It was only when society was disappointed in him as the "possible organiser and chief agent for altering the system of Government" that "a search began for another individual."
There can be no doubt that the men and social circles that appealed to Kerensky in the question of a dictatorship were not his apologists and did not belong to the "Revolutionary Democracy," but the mere fact of their appeal is sufficient proof that their motives could not have been reactionary, and that it reflected the sincere desire of the Russian patriotic elements to see a strong man at the helm in days of storm and strife.
Perhaps there may also have been another motive; there had been a short period, approximately in June, when not only the Russian public, but also the officers had succumbed to the charm of the War Minister's impassioned oratory and pathos. The Russian officers, who were being sacrificed wholesale, had forgotten and forgiven and were desperately hoping that he would save the Russian Army. And their promise to die in the front line was by no means an empty one. During Kerensky's visits to the front, it was a painful sight to see these doomed men, their eyes shining with exaltation, and their hearts beating with hope, a hope that was destined to be so bitterly and mercilessly disappointed.