By this time the firing in the streets had died down. Desultory fighting still continued in the outskirts of the city between patrols of the revolutionary forces and policemen, but by evening calm once more settled down over the city. The autocracy was dead; the revolution had been won. The dead and wounded had been collected and the latter were being cared for. The dead amounted to slightly less than two hundred.
The two committees—the one representing the Duma and the one representing the red radicals—were in joint session all that night working with a harmony that would have seemed incredible only a week before. On the following morning they issued two proclamations. The first simply appealed to the people to remain calm and commit no excesses. The other announced the establishment of a new government for Russia, which should be based on universal suffrage. Then the Duma committee issued a special appeal to army officers to support the new régime. All day delegations from various organizations of both social and military life of the capital appeared before the doors of the Duma to offer allegiance, and again and again Milukov and Kerensky, each the popular hero of their separate elements, the one of the liberal middle classes and the other of the radical working classes, were called out to deliver addresses to crowds of enthusiastic people. Despite their differences of opinion, these two and their fellows worked together with an ideal harmony, each supporting the other with his constituency. Perhaps no greater anomaly was ever presented in history than the spectacle of Rodzianko, ultraconservative, and Kerensky, radical Socialist, each addressing a large crowd, the one in one courtyard the other in another courtyard, exhorting their audiences to stand shoulder to shoulder for a common purpose. Nothing but the knowledge that on the morrow the Prussians might be thundering at the gates of the city could have produced such harmony of action between two such differing types.
Another picturesque incident of the actual revolution occurred when the Imperial Guards at the palace revolted and, having disposed of their commanders, sent a committee in to arrest the czarina, who was attending her children, all of whom were ill with the measles.
"Do not hurt me or my children," she appealed, "I am only a poor Sister of Charity." A guard was left over her while the main body of the regiment went over to Taurida Palace to place itself at the disposal of the Provisional Government.
Meanwhile other notorious members of the dark forces were apprehended. Ex-Premier Boris von Sturmer, the traitor whom Milukov had denounced as a thief, and who had since his downfall been a member of the court camarilla, was arrested and put in a cell lately occupied by a political prisoner. Next came the metropolitan of the church, Pitirim, an appointee of Rasputin, a feeble old man in a white cap and a black cassock, tottering in the midst of a crowd of laughing and jesting soldiers and workingmen, showing him, however, no other violence than with their tongues. One by one all the members of the old régime were brought in, or they came of themselves. Finally the archconspirator, Protopopoff himself, was the only one of note still at large. For two days his whereabouts remained unknown. As developed later, he was hiding in the house of a relative.
On the evening of the 13th an old man in civilian dress appeared before the main doorway of the Duma headquarters. A civilian guard, a student, stood there.
"I am Protopopoff," said the man to the astonished guard; "I have come to surrender myself to the Duma and to recognize its authority. Take me to the right person."
The guard shouted the ex-minister's name in his excitement and a crowd quickly gathered. Even the perennial good humor of a Russian crowd forsook this gathering and it began to assume the aspect of a Western vigilance committee. There were angry shouts; the archtraitor, Protopopoff, was before them in person. But before actual violence could be offered the old man, Kerensky, the Socialist leader, leaped into the crowd and allayed the excitement, thus saving Protopopoff's life.
Another strange feature of the day's events was the appearance of Grand Duke Cyril on the balcony of his own house, uttering a revolutionary speech to the crowds on the pavement below. He declared himself unequivocally for the new government, wherever it might lead, and appealed to the people to support it. Meanwhile the Duma committee sent telegrams to all the commanders along the various fronts and to the admirals of the Baltic and Black Sea fleets, stating the bare facts and asking their adhesion to the Provisional Government. From all came ready professions of loyalty and adhesion. Similar telegrams were sent to all the towns and cities throughout the provinces. And all the country responded similarly. With very little violence the old régime was upset all over Russia and local councils elected to work in harmony with and under the authority of the Provisional Government in Petrograd. The French and British ambassadors too hastened to inform the president of the Duma that their respective governments recognized its authority and were prepared to enter into diplomatic relations with the Duma committee.
On the 14th the streets of Petrograd had assumed their normal quiet, if not their normal appearance, for it was somewhat unusual not to observe a single policeman in sight. Every member of the police was either in prison, in the hospital, or dead. The maintenance of order was given over to a civilian police, or city militia, under the command of Professor Yurevitch, the first time in Russian history that a college professor had ever undertaken such a function. On this day the garrison of the fortress of Kronstadt and the sailors of the fleet stationed there mutinied, killed their commanders and came over to the cause of the revolution. That evening the Duma committee issued a proclamation worded as follows: