Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
It is a moot question whether the revolution could have been averted even at that stage if the administration had shown strength and determination, exerted real effort to improve existing conditions, and granted a liberal constitution. This was not the case. The premier was a harmless octogenarian, feeble in body and mind. The Minister of the Interior, Rotopopov, was a partly demented syphilitic. Both were appointees of Rasputin and therefore the favorites of the Tsarina.
The ignorant Tsarina most likely never heard the story about Maria Antoinette who marveled at why the rabble was so excited about not having bread when they could eat cake. However, in her letters to the Tsar, all full of court gossip and small talk, there is this unbelievable passage, more astonishing than the classic remark of the empress whose fate she shared with less pomp and excitement. It is this: “If the dirty peasant would take to fishing instead of raising potatoes, there would be no shortage of caviar.” --This on the eve of the revolution! The Tsarina and her advisors were firm in their belief that all disorders were caused by agitators, mostly Jews, and that the people loved their “little father” and were loyal to the monarchy. They ignored the admonition of the Duma, the warnings of the Romanov family, and the protests of the nobility, all of their own ilk. The only precautionary measure taken by Rotopopov was to place machine guns on the rooftops in strategic places and to lift the bridges leading from the workers' districts to the center of the city. The president of the Duma, Rodzianko, a conservative and a large landowner, implored the Tsar to grant a constitution and to appoint an administration acceptable to the people. When this failed, the Duma sent a deputation to headquarters for a personal talk with the Tsar who was drinking heavily and had no idea of what was really going on in the capital. All was in vain and too late. The revolution broke out in full force on February 27, 1917.
At noon of this memorable day a patient of mine burst into the office short of breath and proclaimed: “The Revolution is on! The soldiers are fraternizing with the workers. They are being armed, and the courthouse is on fire.” We both left in a hurry to the scene of action. From a distance we could see the flames and could hear the rattle of machine guns and rifle shots. It was these very machine guns on the rooftops that hastened the fall of the monarchy. When the soldiers refused to take action and began mixing with the rebellious crowds, the administration called the Cossacks. The “watch dogs of the regime” took over. However, the killing of innocent bystanders and children by stray bullets enraged them. Most likely they were reminded of the bloody Friday years ago and they remained passive.
The revolutionaries had a free hand. They occupied the arsenal and instead of the small arms they possessed, they now had rifles, machine guns, and even a few tanks. The avant-garde consisted mainly of the sailors who arrived from Kronstadt, the sea base that covered the city from outside attack. Thus fortified, they stormed the Peter and Paul fortress and freed the prisoners, among them some who had spent more than 25 years in dungeons, most of the time in chains, and all these years they never saw daylight. From the fortress they turned to the nearby Winter Palace where they met with resistance from the guards and the cadets of the military school of engineering. On the same night, the Palace was taken. The members of the cabinet, who were in session, were arrested together with the Tsarina and the royal family. The ministers were taken to the Duma.
The royal family was taken to a nearby summer residence of the Tsar and placed under guard. The armory, telegraph, and telephone offices were occupied with no resistance at all. Meanwhile, the Tsar, who was kept drunk by his cronies at headquarters, moved, or rather was forced to move, at the head of two supposedly loyal regiments toward Petrograd with the idea of subduing and punishing the revolutionaries. However, the railroad men refused to carry the troops to Petrograd. It was a ghost train moving aimlessly back and forth in a limited area. Most of the loyal soldiers deserted, having killed some of the officers. Nicholas then abdicated in favor of his brother Michael, not willing to part with his son. Immediately upon the abdication a mass meeting was held in the biggest hall in the city. The first speaker was the leader of the liberal faction of the Duma, Miliukov. He came at once, after the singing of the Internationale, to the core of the situation. “The old tyrant,” he said, “must go. Russia will be proclaimed a constitutional monarchy under the heir to the throne with Michael as the regent.”
He did not finish the speech. A storm of protest broke out with catcalls, whistles (a sign of disapproval in Russia), and curses. Attempts were made to reach the speaker to lay hands on him. An officer bedecked with medals and the insignia of high rank hastened to the rostrum and declared in the name of the Grand Duke that he declined the regency and considered himself a servant of the people under whatever regime would be established. Thus the dynasty of the Romanovs, some 300 years old, became extinct.