These events found me far away from the Capital, in Roumania, where I was commanding the Eighth Army Corps. In our remoteness from the Mother Country we felt a certain tension in the political atmosphere, but we certainly were not prepared for the sudden dénouement or for the shape it assumed.
On the morning of March 3rd I received a telegram from Army Headquarters—“For personal information”—to the effect that a mutiny had broken out in Petrograd, that the Duma had assumed power, and that the publication of important State documents was expected. A few hours later the wire transmitted the manifestoes of the Emperor Nicholas the Second and of the Grand Duke Michael. At first an order was given for their distribution, then, much to my amazement (as the telephones had already been spreading the news) the order was countermanded and finally confirmed. These waverings were apparently due to the negotiations between the temporary Committee of the Duma and the Headquarters of the Norman Front about postponing the publication of these Acts owing to a sudden change in the Emperor’s fundamental idea, namely, the substitution of the Grand Duke Michael for the Grand Duke Alexis as Heir to the Throne. It proved, however, impossible to delay the distribution. The troops were thunderstruck. No other word can describe the first impression produced by the manifestoes. There was neither sorrow nor rejoicing. There was deep, thoughtful silence. Thus did the regiments of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Divisions take the news of the abdication of their Emperor. Only occasionally on parade did the rifle waver and tears course down the cheeks of old soldiers.
In order accurately to describe the spirit of the moment, undimmed by the passing of time, I will quote extracts from a letter I wrote to a near relation on March 8th:
“A page of history has been turned. The first impression is stunning because it is so unexpected and so grandiose. On the whole, however, the troops have taken the events quietly. They express themselves with caution; but three definite currents in the mentality of the men can easily be traced: (1) A return to the past is impossible; (2) the country will receive a Constitution worthy of a great people, probably a Constitutional Limited Monarchy; (3) German domination will come to an end and the war will be victoriously prosecuted.”
The Emperor’s abdication was considered as the inevitable result of the internal policy of the last few years. There was, however, no irritation against the Emperor personally or against the Imperial Family. Everything was forgiven and forgotten. On the contrary, everyone was interested in their fate, and feared the worst. The appointment of the Grand Duke Nicholas as Supreme Commander-in-Chief, and of General Alexeiev as his Chief-of-Staff, was favourably received, alike by officers and men, and interest was manifested in the question as to whether the Army would be represented in the Constituent Assembly. The composition of the Provisional Government was treated more or less as a matter of indifference. The appointment of a civilian to the War Ministry was criticised, and it was only the part he had taken in the Council of National Defence, and his close connection with the officers’ circles, that mitigated the unfavourable impression. A great many people have found it surprising and incomprehensible that the collapse of a Monarchist régime several centuries old should not have provoked in the Army, bred in its traditions, either a struggle or even isolated outbreaks, or that the Army should not have created its own Vendée.
I know of three cases only of stout resistance: The march of General Ivanov’s detachment on Czarskoe Selo, organised by Headquarters in the first days of the risings in Petrograd, very badly executed and soon countermanded, and two telegrams addressed to the Emperor by the Commanding Officers of the Third Cavalry and the Guards Cavalry Corps, Count Keller (killed in Kiev in 1918 by Petlura’s men) and Khan Nachitchevansky. They both offered themselves and their troops for the suppression of the mutiny. It would be a mistake to assume that the Army was quite prepared to accept the provisional “Democratic Republic,” that there were no “loyal” units or “loyal” chiefs ready to engage in the struggle. They undoubtedly existed. There were, however, two circumstances which exercised a restraining influence. In the first place, both Acts of Abdication were apparently legal, and the second of these Acts, in summoning the people to submit to the Provisional Government “invested with full power,” took the wind out of the sails of the monarchists. In the second place, it was apprehended that civil war might open the front to the enemy. The Army was then obedient to its leaders, and they—General Alexeiev and all the Commanders-in-Chief—recognised the new power. The newly-appointed Supreme Commander-in-Chief, the Grand Duke Nicholas, said in his first Order of the Day: “The power is established in the person of the new Government. I, the Supreme Commander-in-Chief, have recognised that power for the good of our Mother Country, serving as an example to us of our duty as soldiers. I order all ranks of our gallant Army and Navy implicitly to obey the established Government through their direct Chiefs. Only then will God grant us victory.”
The days went by. I began to receive many—both slight and important—expressions of bewilderment and questions from the units of my corps: Who represents the Supreme Power in Russia? Is it the temporary Committee which created the Provisional Government, or is it the latter? I sent an inquiry, but received no answer. The Provisional Government itself, apparently, had no clear notion of the essence of its power.
For whom should we pray at Divine Service? Should we sing the National Anthem and “O God, Save Thy People!” (a prayer in which the Emperor was mentioned)?
These apparent trifles produced, however, a certain confusion in the minds of the men and interfered with established military routine. The Commanding Officers requested that the oath should be taken as soon as possible. There was also the question whether the Emperor Nicolas had the right to abdicate not only for himself, but for his son, who had not yet attained his majority.