The first historians of the State Duma, writers of official minutes, reports and other documents excluded, probably did not think of themselves as historians but as reporters of current events. Their reports, along with the official documents, private papers, memoirs and polemics among participants, form the basic primary sources for the study of the Duma. Relatively few of these were widely known in the west when I began to study the Duma in the late 1940s. This first effort was touched off by long hours tete-Atete with Sir Bernard Pares, listening to his recollections of the institution and many of its members. Pares was more than an excellent raconteur; he was himself a '"living document" whose voice gave life and sparkle to the printed sources. My own first perceptions of the Duma were greatly influenced by him. It was not so planned, but my concentrated study of the Duma and its period was interrupted until early in the 1970s. The prolonged hiatus exacted some penalties, but at least it compelled me to update my knowledge of what had been published or made accessible during the interval. That work, plus the passage of time and richly varied experiences, supplied a perspective which was lacking in the first go-round. Reviewing my earlier work chasteningly reminded me of a famous quip by Josh Billings: "It is better to know nothing than to know what ain't so."Reading and reviewing the works of others often called to mind Andre Maurois' astringent observation to the effect that while history does not repeat itself, historians regularly repeat each other. It may be added that we repeat ourselves. My retrospection included finding repetitive errors in simple facts, in faulty assumptions and, consequently, in perceptions. A major case in point has to do with Article 87. Stressing the abuses of this article has become "accepted history," but research so recent as to be unpublished to date2 suggests that"... the emergency