After the proclamation of the First Universal, the work of the Central Rada in Kyiv almost never stopped, day or night.
Inside buildings that only recently had mostly hosted meetings of Ukrainian cultural organizations and societies, discussions now revolved around entirely different issues: administration, autonomy, the army, relations with the Provisional Government, and the future of power in Ukraine.
The corridors were crowded with delegates, officers, journalists, and representatives of various Ukrainian organizations. Late into the night, arguments continued inside offices over how far Petrograd was prepared to go and what the new structure of the country after the revolution would even look like.
But the longer the discussions continued, the clearer it became: without negotiations with the Provisional Government, the further development of the crisis could become extremely dangerous.
That was why the Central Rada decided to send an official delegation to Petrograd.
Late that evening, Hrushevsky, Vynnychenko, Petliura, and several other representatives of the Ukrainian movement gathered inside one of the halls.
Documents, draft proposals, telegrams, and reports about the mood inside the army and the provinces lay scattered across the long table.
The room smelled heavily of tobacco smoke and hot lamps.
Almost nobody present had rested properly during the previous weeks.
Hrushevsky slowly removed his glasses and looked tiredly at the others.
—"The most important thing now is preventing an open rupture."
Vynnychenko immediately frowned.
—"Petrograd has spent months simply trying to delay the issue."
—"Because they themselves no longer understand how quickly the country is slipping out of control," Hrushevsky answered calmly.
Petliura, who until then had silently studied one of the front-line reports, finally spoke:
—"Political disputes are no longer the only problem."
He placed the papers onto the table.
—"The army is beginning to collapse faster than the government can make decisions."
The room became quieter for a moment.
Almost everyone present already understood: the situation at the front was becoming increasingly dangerous.
Petliura continued:
—"In some units, the committees are already interfering directly in command. Officers are losing control over the soldiers more and more often. If this continues for several more months, the front may begin collapsing completely."
One representative of the Rada cautiously remarked:
—"That is exactly why Petrograd fears the Ukrainization of the army."
—"They fear everything they no longer control," Vynnychenko answered sharply.
Hrushevsky raised his hand, stopping another argument before it began.
—"Something else is more important now."
He slowly looked around at those present.
—"We must achieve at least recognition that Ukraine has the right to govern its own internal affairs."
—"And if they begin delaying everything again?" one delegate asked.
For several seconds, silence settled across the room once more.
Because during recent days, that question had been raised increasingly often.
Hrushevsky did not answer immediately.
—"Then the crisis will only deepen."
The words were spoken calmly.
But almost everyone present understood: after the First Universal, returning the situation to its previous state was already becoming nearly impossible.
Later that night, the delegation began preparing for departure.
Kyiv's railway station remained filled with the familiar mixture of chaos and endless movement typical of revolutionary times. Military trains, hospital wagons, refugees, officials, delegations, and soldiers returning from the front moved constantly through the station.
Even here, conversations almost always revolved around the war, the revolution, the army, Ukraine, and Petrograd.
When the train finally began slowly moving northward, most members of the delegation still did not return immediately to their compartments.
Outside the carriage windows, stations, villages, and scattered lights slowly disappeared into the darkness.
The country continued living, fighting, arguing, and at the same time changing more rapidly after the revolution with every passing week.
And ahead of them already waited Petrograd — the city where the fate not only of the Provisional Government, but perhaps of the entire former Empire, would soon be decided.
Petrograd greeted the delegation of the Central Rada with a heavy gray morning and the familiar noise of a revolutionary capital.
Even early in the day, crowds had already gathered near the railway station. Soldiers, workers, students, agitators, officials, and refugees mixed together in an endless flow of movement that had hardly stopped since the February Revolution.
Fresh leaflets and newspapers with new political slogans covered the walls of buildings. Near stations and intersections, arguments constantly broke out over the war, power, the Soviets, the front, and the future of Russia.
The city looked both alive and exhausted at the same time.
Too much here now depended on politics.
As the delegation traveled through the center of the city toward the Tauride Palace, Petliura carefully watched the streets of Petrograd through the car window.
Near one building, a group of soldiers argued with an orator directly on the sidewalk. Farther away, another crowd listened to socialist speakers, while near a newspaper stand people were already discussing fresh rumors about the crisis at the front.
—"The capital increasingly resembles one enormous rally," one member of the delegation quietly remarked.
Hrushevsky answered calmly:
—"After the revolution, the entire country has turned into one great political argument."
But beneath all this movement, instability could increasingly be felt.
The Provisional Government still officially governed the country.
The ministries functioned, commissions held meetings, orders continued arriving from Stavka, and the railways still operated.
At the same time, however, the Soviets, committees, soldiers' organizations, political unions, and dozens of revolutionary movements existed beside the official government structure.
And fewer and fewer people understood who truly held power in the end.
Near the Tauride Palace, the atmosphere looked no less tense.
Armed soldiers stood near the entrance while journalists and representatives of various political parties gathered nearby. Inside, the corridors were crowded with officials, officers, and deputies.
The political crisis could almost be physically felt here.
In one corridor, the delegation briefly crossed paths with several officers who had just left another meeting.
From their exhausted faces alone, it was immediately clear: the discussion had once again been about the front.
—"Launching an offensive with the army in its current condition is becoming increasingly dangerous," one officer irritably told his companion.
—"But the government still demands action," the other answered.
Petliura briefly watched the officers but said nothing.
He already understood too well how quickly the army itself was beginning to lose stability.
Soon afterward, the delegation was finally escorted into one of the halls prepared for negotiations.
Despite the outwardly official atmosphere, the tension could be felt almost immediately.
Too much now depended on whether Petrograd and Kyiv would still manage to preserve at least the appearance of compromise.
Several representatives of the Provisional Government were already waiting inside the negotiation hall.
Kerensky looked visibly exhausted. Months of continuous political crises, problems at the front, and constant conflicts within the government itself were gradually beginning to show even in his appearance.
Nearby stood Tsereteli, calmly reviewing several documents while quietly exchanging remarks with government officials.
After brief formalities, both sides finally took their seats at the long table.
During the first minutes, the conversation remained cautious.
They discussed the general situation in the country, the front, the consequences of the revolution, and the need to preserve order.
But gradually, the discussion still shifted toward the main issue.
Kerensky carefully looked at the representatives of the Central Rada.
—"After the First Universal, the situation in the country has become considerably more tense."
Vynnychenko answered immediately:
—"More accurately, the First Universal merely revealed the situation that already existed."
Kerensky frowned slightly.
—"The Provisional Government cannot allow actions that may accelerate the disintegration of the state."
—"Ukraine is not demanding the destruction of the state," Hrushevsky calmly interrupted. —"We are speaking about the right of a people to organize its own internal life."
Tsereteli listened attentively to both sides without immediately entering the argument.
Hrushevsky continued in a calmer and more measured tone:
—"After the February Revolution, the Provisional Government itself proclaimed new principles of freedom and self-determination for the peoples of Russia. Ukraine merely asks that these principles also be applied to Ukraine."
Several officials exchanged glances.
Kerensky did not answer immediately.
—"You understand perfectly well the condition the country is currently in."
He paused briefly.
—"The army is holding the front with enormous difficulty already. Any sudden movement now may lead to consequences that nobody will later be able to stop."
For the first time during the negotiations, Petliura slowly raised his eyes from the documents lying before him.
—"The problem is that the old army is already beginning to collapse regardless of the Ukrainian question."
The room became noticeably quieter.
Petliura spoke without emotion, almost like an officer delivering a formal report.
—"Committees are interfering more deeply in the command structure. Discipline is falling. Officers are losing control. More and more soldiers no longer understand why the war continues."
Kerensky looked at him carefully.
—"And you believe national military units will solve this problem?"
—"I believe," Petliura answered calmly, —"that units where internal organization and trust between soldiers and officers still exist now have a greater chance of maintaining order than an army that exists only formally."
One of the military representatives of the government frowned noticeably.
—"But Ukrainization may become the beginning of the collapse of the entire army."
Petliura slowly shook his head.
—"The collapse has already begun. The question now is different — whether it will still be possible to preserve at least part of the combat capability of the front."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Even among the representatives of the government, many already understood too well that the situation inside the army was deteriorating faster than official reports were prepared to openly admit.
Tsereteli finally intervened calmly:
—"The most important thing now is preventing a final rupture between Petrograd and Kyiv."
He looked first toward the Ukrainian delegation and then toward the ministers.
—"If both sides continue viewing one another as threats, the crisis will only accelerate."
But even after those words, the tension inside the room did not disappear completely.
Because almost everyone participating in the negotiations already felt: the revolution was gradually destroying the very system that only a few months earlier everyone had still hoped to preserve.
The negotiations continued for several more hours.
The longer both sides discussed the Ukrainian question, the more obvious it became: the main issue was no longer autonomy alone.
Gradually, the conversation shifted toward the future of the entire country itself.
Whether the new Russia after the revolution would be capable of preserving a unified system of government, an army, and state authority at all.
One government representative cautiously remarked:
—"If every region now begins demanding separate administrations and special rights, the state itself will simply cease to exist."
Vynnychenko immediately leaned forward.
—"The state is not beginning to collapse because peoples demand rights."
He spoke much more sharply than Hrushevsky.
—"It is collapsing because the old system has already stopped functioning, while the new government still does not understand what it intends to build in its place."
Several ministers frowned immediately.
But Kerensky did not interrupt him.
He understood too well that similar words were already being spoken not only in Kyiv.
Noticing the growing tension, Hrushevsky once again attempted to steer the discussion into a calmer direction.
—"The Central Rada does not seek the destruction of the state."
He spoke slowly, choosing his words very carefully.
—"But after the revolution, Ukraine can no longer remain merely an administrative province whose future is decided without the participation of Ukrainians themselves."
Tsereteli thoughtfully ran his hand along the edge of the table.
—"The problem," he finally said, —"is that the country has now entered a condition where every decision immediately creates a new crisis."
Nobody argued with that.
Too many things were happening at once: the war, the crisis at the front, the revolution, economic collapse, the struggle between the Soviets and the government, and the rapid growth of national movements.
Kerensky tiredly stood from his chair and walked toward the window.
Outside came the sounds of the streets, distant voices, and the noise of yet another political gathering somewhere near the Tauride Palace.
Petrograd almost never became quiet anymore, day or night.
—"Do you understand," he finally said without turning around, —"that any sudden movement now may lead to civil war?"
For several seconds, the room fell silent.
After months of revolution, the phrase no longer sounded impossible.
Petliura answered first:
—"And without an attempt at compromise, the country may arrive there even faster."
Kerensky slowly turned back toward the table.
—"And what exactly do you propose?"
Hrushevsky answered immediately:
—"Recognition of the Central Rada as the representative body of Ukraine, gradual expansion of local self-government, and coordinated cooperation with the government."
—"And the army?" one of the generals immediately asked.
Petliura briefly exchanged a glance with Hrushevsky.
—"Ukrainian military units must be formed in an organized manner, under the common command structure of the front, not spontaneously."
That formulation immediately reduced part of the tension among several military representatives.
Because in Petrograd, spontaneous Ukrainization of the army frightened many officials far more than controlled reform.
Tsereteli carefully looked toward the Ukrainian delegation.
—"So you still consider Ukraine part of the common state system?"
Hrushevsky calmly nodded.
—"For now — yes."
The answer was cautious enough that nearly everyone in the room immediately understood the hidden meaning behind those words.
After that, the discussion gradually shifted toward more concrete details of a possible agreement.
But even while both sides searched for compromise, everyone already understood:
neither Petrograd nor Kyiv fully trusted each other anymore.
By evening, the atmosphere of the negotiations became noticeably calmer, although the tension itself never disappeared.
After hours of arguments, both sides gradually began to understand: it was no longer possible for either side to impose a complete victory.
The Provisional Government was becoming too weak. The Ukrainian movement was growing too quickly. And the entire country remained too unstable.
Because of this, the discussions increasingly shifted away from fundamental disputes and toward searching for formulations that could at least temporarily preserve compromise.
New drafts, corrected texts, and notes from officials gradually appeared across the table.
Tsereteli carefully reviewed another version of the agreement.
—"If the government recognizes the Central Rada as the representative body of Ukraine, are you prepared to coordinate your future actions with Petrograd?"
Hrushevsky answered calmly:
—"The Rada has never opposed cooperation."
Vynnychenko, seated beside him, added in a noticeably sharper tone:
—"But cooperation is only possible when the Ukrainian question stops being postponed month after month."
Kerensky tiredly rubbed his face.
—"You must understand that any decision regarding Ukraine immediately creates reactions throughout the entire country."
He briefly glanced toward the military representatives.
—"The front is already holding together with enormous difficulty."
Petliura answered calmly:
—"That is precisely why the situation cannot remain in its current state."
He still spoke in the same restrained, almost emotionless tone.
—"The longer the army remains in uncertainty, the faster chaos spreads inside the units."
One of the generals quietly remarked:
—"Many officers already view Ukrainization as a threat to the army."
—"And many soldiers," Petliura answered, —"are beginning to view it as at least some form of order."
After those words, silence once again settled briefly across the room.
Because even part of the government already understood: the old mechanisms of military control were gradually ceasing to function.
Later that evening, both sides finally reached a preliminary compromise.
It solved none of the deeper problems. It removed none of the contradictions. And it certainly did not eliminate mutual distrust.
But for now, it still allowed the preservation of at least the appearance of a common state system.
When the meeting finally ended, most participants looked exhausted rather than satisfied.
Inside the corridors of the Tauride Palace, ministers and officials immediately began discussing the consequences of the agreement, the reaction of the army, possible anger among radicals and nationalists, and the new crises that would inevitably follow.
The Ukrainian delegation also left the palace without any real sense of victory.
As they walked toward the exit, Vynnychenko quietly said:
—"They agreed only because they are afraid of losing control completely."
Hrushevsky answered more calmly:
—"For now, what matters most is buying time."
For several seconds, Petliura silently looked out at the evening streets of Petrograd through the palace windows.
Crowds once again gathered across the streets, political speeches echoed somewhere nearby, and armed soldiers still stood guard outside government buildings.
The revolutionary capital increasingly resembled a city living in a permanent state of crisis.
—"Time is running out for everyone," Petliura finally said quietly.
Nobody answered him.
Because after months of revolution, almost everyone already felt: the compromise between Kyiv and Petrograd might become only a temporary pause before an even greater conflict.