The Family Romanov: Murder, Rebellion, and the Fall of Imperial Russia

by Candace Fleming

  But the group’s most vicious attacks were perpetrated against the Jews. In the two weeks after the signing of the October Manifesto, there were 694 separate pogroms across the country. Pogroms (derived from the Russian word meaning “to wreak havoc”) were organized attacks against Jews. And while Nicholas did not instigate these attacks, he did little to discourage them. With staggering brutality, Russian subjects, provoked by the Black Hundred, rose up against their Jewish neighbors, burning homes, looting shops and synagogues, and murdering innocent men, women, and children. For the most part, police and government officials looked the other way. They took no action to stop the violence or arrest the attackers. Instead, they shared Nicholas’s view that “the Yids,” as he derisively called his Jewish subjects, “must be kept in their place.”

  Pogroms were hardly new to Russia. Attacks on Jews had been happening for centuries. One of the worst had occurred just two years earlier in the town of Kishinev. Incited by a leaflet (printed under the supervision of Nicholas’s minister of the interior and paid for with the tsar’s money) that read in part: “Brothers, in the name of our Savior, who gave his blood for us, in the name of our very pious Little Father, the Tsar … let us join on Easter Day in the cry, ‘Down with the Jews!’ Let us massacre these … monsters,” Christians rioted for three days. When peace was finally restored, fifty-seven Jews (including two babies and a twelve-year-old boy) lay dead, and five hundred more were wounded. Homes and businesses—fourteen hundred in all—had been pillaged and destroyed, leaving almost two thousand Jewish families with little more than rubble. When Nicholas heard what had happened, he was pleased. “Good,” he said. “The Jews needed to be taught a lesson.”

  Considered undesirable subjects, Jews had not only been the victims of dozens of pogroms, they’d been subjected to endless imperial decrees meant to discriminate against them. By the time Nicholas took the throne, his predecessors had already created more than fourteen hundred laws meant to limit the way Jews lived. Among them was a law forcing almost all Russian Jews (some 5.2 million, or nearly half of all Jews in the world) to live within fifteen western provinces known collectively as the Pale of Settlement. Additionally, Jews were forbidden from owning land, serving as army officers, holding a bureaucratic job, or practicing law. They were subject to special and steep taxes on their businesses, on kosher meat, and on synagogues. There were even strict quotas limiting Jewish admittance to high schools and universities. Nicholas himself decreed that those same quotas be applied to grammar schools. Because of his action, one-third of all Jewish children aged twelve and under were forbidden from going to school. Nicholas—who believed the world’s Jews were conspiring against him—thoroughly approved of these restrictions.

  By 1906, he also believed the uprising that had led to the October Manifesto had been entirely their fault. “They [have] been putting on airs and leading the revolutionary movement,” he claimed. (While many Jews did join the ranks of revolutionaries, most were moderates who wanted to make changes through the Duma.) Wrote Nicholas to his mother in November 1905: “In the first days after the Manifesto the subversive elements raised their head … and because nine-tenths of the trouble-makers are Jews, the people’s anger turned against them. That’s how the pogrom happened. It is amazing how they took place simultaneously in all the towns of Russia and Siberia.… [It] shows clearly what an infuriated mob can do; they surrounded the houses where revolutionaries had taken refuge, set fire to them and killed everybody trying to escape.” Alexandra agreed with her husband. “It’s the Jews,” she said. “[They have] filled the people’s ears with bad ideas.”

  BEYOND THE PALACE GATES:

  HOUSE NO. 13

  It began on Easter Sunday—April 19, 1903—just after church let out in the Ukrainian town of Kishinev. Shouting, “Down with the Jews! Kill the Christ killers!” mobs of weapon-wielding, vodka-swilling Christians attacked the fourth district—the section of town where the Jews lived. Eight weeks later, journalist and author Vladimir Korolenko arrived in Kishinev. His goal, he explained, was to “pick one episode from the impersonal chaos known as massacre” so the world would know what happened there. He focused on one Jewish dwelling, which he called house No. 13. This is what he reported:

  About ten in the morning a policeman … a man well known in the neighborhood … strongly advised [Jewish residents] to hide themselves in their houses, and not to go out in the streets. The Jews naturally followed this advice, and they barred up the doors, gates and shutters.… The crowd arrived about eleven o’clock accompanied by two patrols of soldiers, who unfortunately had “no orders” [to intervene during the pogrom] and remained in the two by-streets above and below the doomed house. The rioters consisted of about fifty or sixty persons, among whom it was easy to recognize some of their good neighbors.… The rioters set to work with the wholesale destruction of everything that came to hand, and in a few minutes the [town] square was littered with fragments of glass and furniture and with down and feathers. It soon became apparent, however, that the climax of horror was to center round house No. 13.

  To the left of the gate, stand some low-roofed outhouses; in one of these the glazier Grienschpoun … hid with his wife, two children, Ita Paskar, wife of the shop assistant Gofsha Paskar, and her two children, and a servant-girl. The door would not close on the inside, and the structure itself was no stronger than a cardboard box.… The rioters rushed for the shed.… A neighbor … was the first to stab the glazier in the neck. The unhappy man rushed out, but they seized him and dragged him on to the roof of the outhouse, where they finished him off with sticks and clubs.

  Some of the [other] Jews made a rush for the [attic]. Draper’s assistant Berlatsky, who lived in the house with his wife and four children, ran up first with his daughter. He was followed by the landlord, Moses Macklin.… But the murderers were not long in following the fugitives into the loft.… The luckless fugitives realized that it was impossible to hide themselves effectively in the close and stifling attic. Hearing behind them the cries of their pursuers, they began … to pull down the roof. Moses Macklin was the first to get out. Berlatsky had first to help his daughter, Chaia, and as he was attempting to follow her, one of his pursuers reached the loft, and seized him by the legs. The daughter was attempting to drag her father up, and the pursuer was pulling him backward. But Chaia … suddenly ceased her efforts, and … implored the ruffian to let go of her father. He yielded to her entreaties.… The three crouched for some time on the roof of that house. Then the murderers emerged. The Jews began to run round the roof. The rioters followed at their heels. The same neighbor who [struck the glazier] was the first to wound Berlatsky. Finally all three were tripped over the edge of the roof. Chaia fell on a pile of feathers … and escaped with her life. The wounded Macklin and Berlatsky lay writhing with broken limbs on the pavement, where the cowardly crowd … finished them off with crowbars.

  Nisensen … an accountant … was the last to be killed; he and his wife had hidden in the cellar, but he ran out into the street when he heard the cries of the murdered.… This drew the attention of the mob to himself.… He was caught and wounded … his legs and arms … broken in several places.… Then once more the same man who had first wounded Grienschpoun and Berlatsky stepped forward and struck Nisensen a blow on the head with a crowbar, which put an end to his sufferings.…

  On the same day the news spread that the “order” … had at last come. It took [but] an hour and a half to restore [peace] in the town. No blood had to be shed, nor a rifle fired. A show of firmness was all that was necessary.

  THE THREAT OF COMMUNISM

  Meanwhile, the true revolutionaries—a handful of men and women who believed only a violent overthrow of the tsar could save Russia—still hoped to stage an armed insurrection. Most of them followed the teachings of the nineteenth-century German thinker Karl Marx. Marx saw all of history as a struggle between workers and property owners. That struggle, he believed, would end only when the people ow
ned all natural resources (farms, forests, mineral deposits) as well as banks, railroads, utilities, and factories. Exactly how this commonly owned property would be organized was not addressed. Still, the goal was that everyone be equal. Because of this shared ownership, Marx called his new system communism. And it would come about, he theorized, only after total revolution by the working class.

  Russian followers of Marx had been working toward this “total revolution” for almost thirty years. Calling themselves by the peaceful-sounding name Social Democrats (or SDs), they were, in fact, a radical group of communists who had done most of their work out of the country. Seen as a threat to the autocracy, SD party leaders had been forced by the tsar’s police to flee Russia. In 1880, they had set up their party headquarters in Switzerland. From there they published anti-tsarist pamphlets and newspapers that were smuggled into St. Petersburg and other cities. Their goal was to spread communist ideas to workers as well as to the intelligentsia (academics and college students). One Russian who seized upon this dream was a short, stocky lawyer named Vladimir Ulyanov.

  REVOLUTIONARY

  Vladimir Ulyanov came from the very background he later claimed to scorn. His father was inspector of schools for Simbirsk province, a bureaucratic job of the first rank, entitling him to be addressed as “Your Excellency.” His mother was a member of a landowning noble family. Born in 1870, little Vladimir was a difficult child. He told lies, cheated at games, and had a mean streak. But he was also smart, and an outstanding student. “Excellent in everything!” he would shout when he brought home his grades.

  In 1887, Vladimir’s older brother, Alexander, was arrested with seventy-two other university students for plotting to kill Tsar Alexander III (Nicholas’s father). As one of the group’s leaders, Alexander Ulyanov was hanged. No one knows how this affected seventeen-year-old Vladimir. Most historians believe it spurred him to join the revolutionary movement, although he never admitted as much publicly. That same year, he graduated from high school at the top of his class, without any outward signs of distress.

  In the fall of 1887, he entered Kazan University. But within weeks, he was expelled for taking part in a small student demonstration. For the next five years, he lived on his mother’s family estate, earning his law degree from home while also studying the works of Karl Marx and other socialist writings. He soon considered himself to be a professional revolutionary, vowing to devote all his energies to overthrowing the tsar and establishing a people’s government. Since Marx’s theory claimed revolution would begin in the cities, Vladimir moved to St. Petersburg in 1893. There he joined a like-minded group of revolutionaries involved in organizing workers’ strikes and distributing antigovernment pamphlets. But in 1895, the police caught up with him. He spent one year in prison, followed by three years of exile in Siberia.

  Because of his wealth and education, Vladimir’s time in this frozen landscape was not one of hardship. Allowed to choose where he lived, he selected a village near the Mongolian border, taking along one thousand rubles and one hundred books. This made him both the wealthiest and most educated man in town. From his cozy rented rooms, he began a voluminous correspondence with other professional revolutionaries in Russia and across Europe. He wrote his own economic theories, and translated radical works from other countries into Russian. By the time his Siberian exile ended, Vladimir was no longer an obscure revolutionary—he was gaining a European-wide reputation as a leader of the communist movement.

  He did not return to St. Petersburg. Instead, in 1901, Vladimir went abroad, where he wandered through Europe’s cities—Munich, London, and finally Geneva—meeting other Russian revolutionaries. From these places, he also wrote and edited a newspaper called Spark. Although published in Europe, the paper was smuggled into Russia in hopes of inciting workers to revolution. Afraid to use his own name—it was not uncommon for the tsar’s secret police to assassinate “enemies of the state” even when they lived outside Russia’s borders—Vladimir began to write under the name Lenin. It stuck.

  All iron will and ambition, Lenin cared for little but politics and power. He dressed and ate simply and stuck to a precise daily schedule, allotting no time for what he considered useless leisure. Neat and orderly, he kept detailed accounts of the money he spent; shelved his books (only social and political titles) alphabetically; and allotted himself exactly fifteen minutes each morning to tidy his desk. This way of life, he claimed, gave him the discipline needed for revolutionary work. He would not allow himself even to listen to music: “It makes me want to do kind, stupid things, and pat the heads of people,” he claimed. “But now you have to beat them on the head, beat them without mercy.”

  Lenin agreed with most of Marx’s ideas. But unlike Marx, Lenin did not believe the workers could bring about a revolution on their own. Instead, a few strong leaders, drawn from the most enlightened workers and activist intellectuals, were needed to guide events and encourage armed insurrection. This, Lenin insisted, was the only way Russia could move toward communism.

  But many of his fellow Social Democrats disagreed. They wanted to take a more gradual approach to revolution. Immediate action to bring down the tsarist regime wasn’t necessary, they argued. Instead, they should give the workers time to discover for themselves—through the experience of labor strikes and other social struggles—the necessity of revolution. Until that time, Social Democrats should continue publishing revolutionary propaganda in an effort to educate them. Revolution, they said, would happen only when workers were ready.

  Lenin sneered at this idea. And in 1903, his insistence on an immediate revolt led to a split in the Social Democrat party. From then on, SDs who followed Lenin’s lead were called Bolsheviks. Those who disagreed with him were called Mensheviks. But all were communists, intent on creating—in one way or another—a completely free, equal, and classless society.

  LENIN IS TAKEN BY SURPRISE

  Neither Bolshevik nor Menshevik leaders had much to do with the strikes of 1905. Their influence among the Russian workers was still too weak. In fact, news of the upheavals took Lenin completely by surprise. And yet he was in no hurry to leave Geneva for the fugitive life in Russia. As a known revolutionary leader, he would be arrested if the police found him. Instead, he tried to lead from afar, sending a stream of letters to the handful of Bolsheviks, urging them to armed insurrection.

  Then Nicholas signed the October Manifesto. And Lenin grew worried. The newly granted rights, he feared, would let the pressure out of the revolutionary movement. He had to get home and rally Bolshevik Russians before their chance completely slipped away.

  In mid-November—just two weeks after the October Manifesto was declared—Lenin crossed the border and made his way to St. Petersburg. Along with a small group of Bolshevik men and women, he began planning an uprising. But could it possibly succeed? Since the manifesto, most workers were not behind them. Lenin claimed it didn’t matter. “Victory?” he cried. “The point is not about victory, but about giving the regime a shake and attracting the masses to the movement.”

  BATTLEGROUND

  On the morning of December 20, the tsar’s police attempted to arrest the leaders of the soviets, the organizations Nicholas had earlier declared illegal. This action incensed people in Moscow. Students, workers, and even well-dressed citizens surged into the streets to protest. Social Democrats, both Bolshevik and Menshevik, seized their chance and urged the people to fight against autocracy. And the people listened. Working together, they built barricades from whatever they could find—fences, overturned streetcars, telegraph poles, doors torn from nearby homes and shops. These barricades soon ringed the workers’ section of the city. “The whole of Moscow has become a battleground,” said one eyewitness. Homemade bombs exploded. From all directions came the sound of gunshots.

  Revolutionaries from St. Petersburg and other cities rushed to join in the struggle. But not Lenin. The police had picked up his trail, and the Bolshevik leader could do little but shuttle from hidi
ng place to hiding place. Still, the events in Moscow delighted him. “Go ahead and shoot!” he cried. “Summon the … regiments against the Russian peasants and workers. We are for a broadening of the struggle, we are an international revolution.”

  At Tsarskoe Selo, Nicholas chain-smoked furiously. Was this what he got from the people in return for his generous concessions? He decided to take matters firmly in hand. Deploying a special fighting unit to Moscow, he ordered them to clear the streets, using any means necessary.

  The tsar’s troops were ruthless. Bringing up artillery, they bombarded the workers’ section until the whole district was nothing but smoldering rubble. Then soldiers entered the area. Their orders were to shoot anyone who had not already fled. Men, women, and children were systematically mowed down. By December 31, the rebellion was over. More than a thousand people had been killed, and thousands more were injured.

  And a despairing Lenin slipped away into Finland. He felt sure he’d just lost the only chance for revolution in his lifetime.