had come out to tame this mob, and with great vim he fired into it a fusillade of short abrupt sentences.
"My name—Saakian!" (The mob: "Down with him!")
"My party—Socialist Revolutionary!" ("Down with him!")
"My official religion—according to the passport—Armenian-Gregorian!" ("Down with him!")
"My real religion—Socialism!" ("Down with him!")
"My relation to the war—two brothers killed." A voice: "There should have been a third."
"My advice to you—trust us, your leaders and best friends. Stop this foolish demonstration. You are disgracing yourself, disgracing the Revolution, bringing disaster to Russia."
These sailors were already enraged. To slap them in the face thus was an idiotic act. Pandemonium broke loose. Again Trotzky to the rescue.
He steps upon the platform, the hero and idol of the Cronstadt sailors. He knows the temper of his hearers. He knows, today, they have no ears for censure.
"Revolutionary sailors, pride and flower of the revolutionary forces of Russia! " he began. "In this battle for the Social Revolution we fight together. Together, comrades, our fists beat upon the doors of this Palace until the ideals for which our blood has flowed shall at last be incarnated in the constitution of this country. Hard and long has been the
