The 1917 Revolution and the Civil War

The most significant event – or again, rather series of events – in Russian history from the émigré perspective is, of course, that of the 1917 Revolution and the ensuing Civil War, which forced over a million Russian citizens to flee their homeland and spread out over the globe. However, despite the émigrés’ personal experiences, the era of the Revolution and Civil War is a very complex period. Those years encompass many events and developments, and are arguably surrounded by a lack of clarity for many émigrés – even more so for those who actually participated in the Civil War. Hence, it can be maintained that by reporting on the Revolution and the Civil War, IR aims to clarify some iconic events of that period.

Before actually looking into how IR reports on the 1917 Revolution and the Civil War, it is important to note that the Revolution in fact consists of two very different Revolutions: the February Revolution and the October Revolution. Since the Revolution, as a whole, encompasses a complex series of events, the inclusion of all of its nuances would lead too far. Therefore, this brief outline will be limited to a broad overview. The February Revolution was a series of spontaneous mass uprisings originating with the smoldering discontent of the monarchy and eventually culminating in mass demonstrations against food rationing on February 23 (old style).

The February Revolution resulted in the creation of a Provisional Government and the abdication of the Tsar, thus ultimately leading to the end of the Russian monarchy and the beginning of a short-lived period of Russia as a republic. From February until October 1917, there were two power centers in Petrograd: the Provisional Government and the Petrograd Council (or Petrograd Soviet). In October 1917, the Bolsheviks, a minority group from that Petrograd Soviet – which by then had united with other city soviets into an All-Russian Congress of Soviets – decided to overthrow the Provisional Government. The October Revolution thus was not a spontaneous uprising but a coup, planned and led by the radical Bolshevik Vladimir Lenin. Unlike the February Revolution, the October Revolution was not supported by the people, but was a top-down coup carried by a small minority. Additionally, while the February Revolution led to the abdication of the Tsar, he and his family were not executed until July 1918 by the Bolshevists.

The great discontent with the Bolshevik coup, among others, ultimately led to the outbreak of the Civil War between the Bolshevik Red Army and the White Army, a union of various anti-bolshevist forces. This Civil War lasted until 1922 and, together with the October Revolution, caused over a million Russians to flee into exile. While each uprising had a very different nature, they were also perceived differently by the Russian émigrés. In fact, many still supported the February Revolution, but did not agree with the motivations and outcomes of the October Revolution. In the discussion

of IR’s historic highlights, I will not differentiate between both Revolutions unless the analysis requires so.

IR’s focus is on the personal experiences of those involved – mainly émigré figures of authority, such as members of the royal family, politicians and military leaders. In these articles IR does not depict the Revolution and Civil War tout court, but highlights certain episodes, from the émigré perspective. The articles themselves are mostly historical reports and memories which undoubtedly aim to provide IR’s readers with information and answer questions they might have. Most of those reports are, to a greater or lesser extent, arguably relatable to IR’s readers as they have experienced the same or similar events. Furthermore, what stands out clearly is that IR does not cover the February Revolution at all, but only reports on – and in doing so, condemns – the October Revolution and its consequences. While the February Revolution is an object of dispute in the Russian emigration, the October Revolution is quasi unanimously condemned by the émigrés. Furthermore, the October Revolution can be considered the direct cause for Russian exile. As such, it can be argued, IR uses the October Revolution and the shared suffering it has brought as a topic to unite the émigré community.

In IR’s coverage of the Revolution and the Civil War, special attention is payed to (the end of) Tsarism and the royal family. This should not be surprising, as the Revolution brought an abrupt end to Russia as an Empire. In this light, the execution of the Tsar and his family can be seen as the ultimate symbol of the transition from Imperialist Russia to Bolshevik rule. However, it is crucial to remark that in those items IR does not discuss the deposition of the Tsar, a result of the February Revolution. More importantly still, IR never glorifies Tsarism. Instead, IR only discusses the Tsar and his family in light of their execution in July 1918. As such, it can be contended, IR above all portrays the Tsar and his family as the ultimate victims of Bolshevik violence and immorality. Although the items about the Tsarist family (both visual and textual) are relatively few in IR, they nonetheless are highly significant.

Around the tenth anniversary of the royal family’s execution in July 1928, IR treats the topic in a number of issues. In issue 1928-29(166), the cover and many pictures in the issue are devoted to “[t]he tenth anniversary of the villainy of Ekaterinburg”³¹ (figure 32), showing the Tsar and his family under various circumstances in happier times (figures 33-34). “Villainy” definitely is a key word in IR’s coverage. As not only the Tsar was killed, but also his wife and innocent children, and as no trial whatsoever had preceded, the execution of the Tsarist family can truly be considered a murder and a demonstration of Soviet morality – or, rather, the lack thereof. In addition to

using the word “villainy”, IR frequently refers to the execution as a “tragedy” and to Bolshevik violence as a “storm”.

IR accentuates the brutal violence of the execution by printing pictures of the house and room in which “[t]he final act of the tragedy of Ekaterinburg”³² took place. Note the word ‘tragedy’, which IR arguably uses to add an emotional undertone to its coverage, thereby amplifying the idea of extreme Bolshevik violence vis-à-vis innocent victims. This is also reflected in the pictures, showing bullet holes in the wall, as well as the Chekist who allegedly shot the Tsar (figure 35). What catches the eye is the picture of the Chekist peacefully drinking a cup of tea. His calmness, contrasted with the explicit violence of the picture of the bullet holes in the wall, intensifies the villainy of the royal family’s execution. At the top of the page, IR indicates the source of the pictures: “M[onsieur] Gilliard”, or Pierre Gilliard, the French language tutor of the Tsar’s children until 1918 who published a memoir about his time with the family, entitled Treize années à la cour de Russie (1917). I was unable to check whether IR copied this collage in its entirety from Gilliard’s memoirs or altered it, nor is it clear whether IR also possessed other pictures of those who executed the Tsar and his family. Nevertheless, the combination of pictures fits well with the general tenor of IR’s items on the execution.

To further emphasize the amorality of this murder, it can be contended, IR systematically presents the royal family as innocent victims. In the same issue, IR prints a number of pictures of the Tsar and his family taken before the Revolution.

These pictures depict the Romanovs in a familial setting, with the Tsar shoveling snow or sawing wood, and the Tsarevich playing with his dog, accompanied by friends or during class (figures 33, 34, 36). Arguably the most striking picture is printed on the occasion of the publication of Grand Duchess Mariya Pavlovna’s memoirs in July 1930 (to which I will return shortly). On the cover of that issue, IR publishes a “sensational, up until today unknown portrait of the Tsar, which, according to the Grand Duchess, was taken five days before the villainous murder of the royal family”³³ (figure 37). This portrait depicts the Tsar in his nightdress and with a crucifix around his neck, sitting at a desk displaying family portraits. The Tsar thus is shown as a mortal human being, as a father, husband and Christian – far from the image of an absolute monarch as he appears in official portraits. In the subsequent issues of IR as well, Mariya Pavlovna’s memoirs are accompanied by a number of pictures which offer a glimpse in the palace in Tsarskoye Selo. These pictures depict, for example, the Tsar’s office, where his desk

32 “Последний акт Екатеринбургской трагедии.” Ibid, p. 5.

33 “[…] сенсационный, неизвестный до сих пор портрет Царя, снятый, по словам Великой Княгини, за 5 дней до злодейского убийства царской семьи.” IR 1930-29(270), cover.

is covered with “portraits of loved ones”³⁴, and the bedroom of the Tsarina, with a wall covered in “a collection of images and icons that the late Tsarina treasured very much”³⁵ (figures 38-39). Once more, these photographs tie in with IR’s depiction of the royal family as normal, God-fearing human beings, instead of monarchs, and thus emphasize the ‘villainy’ of the execution.

In addition to pictures, IR also publishes a few personal accounts of the tumultuous period by members of the Royal family. Interestingly, these texts have a high level of sensationalism as they mainly focus on spectacular episodes from that era. A good example is “How we were saved”³⁶, written specifically for IR by Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhailovich, grandson of Tsar Nikolay I. In his memoirs, Aleksandr Mikhailovich elucidates how he and other members of the royal family managed to escape from Grand Duke Pyotr Nikolayevich’s dacha in Crimea with the help of the chief of the revolutionary guard. In the article, Aleksandr Mikhailovich emphasizes his family’s gratitude toward their savior, stating that “our prayers are always with him.”³⁷ In his recollections Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhailovich thus seems to suggest that perhaps not all revolutionaries are equally despicable.

The same episode is brought up again only a couple of issues later, in an article published on the occasion of Tsarina Mariya Fyodorovna’s death in October 1928. In this article, former Prime Minister Vladimir Kokovtsov shares “a few quick thoughts”

on the “suffering and silent sorrow”³⁸ Mariya Fyodorovna experienced in Revolutionary Russia before emigrating to her native Denmark in August 1919.

Kokovtsov discusses some highlights from the period between the Tsar’s abdication and Mariya Fyodorovna departure from Crimea in 1919, when she starts her life in exile. He describes how Mariya Fyodorovna and other members of the royal family initially stayed at Dulber Palace near Yalta, and how tensions in Crimea rose during that period – especially after the Bolsheviks seized power:

In the meantime, the atmosphere surrounding the prisoners was thickening.

Gangs of armed men in sailor and soldier clothes, on trucks and in crews came

from Sevastopol and Yalta every now and then, demanding of the security guards that they hand over the prisoners. Often several gangs came to the gates of Dulber, demanding that they be handed over to them and the security chief had to show a lot of tact and resourcefulness in order to dismiss such demands, which would have terrible consequences.³⁹

What is clearly emphasized in these recollections is the major and constant threat Mariya Fyodorovna was under. In May 1918 Mariya Fyodorovna was able to move to Grand Duke Georgy Mikhailovich’s estate, Kharaks, in Crimea where she lived relatively peacefully until March 1919 when the Bolsheviks broke through the Crimean front at Perekop. At that moment, Kokovtsov indicates,

[f]rom hour to hour, it was to be expected that a new, repeated stream of destruction would flood the Russian pearl and the rivers of innocent blood would flow again and those who had been protected by the Lord so far would not be saved from death.⁴⁰

Kokovtsov highlights the cruelty and amorality of the Bolsheviks, prepared to kill innocent people, thus stressing the necessity of the royals to leave Crimea and go into exile. In his closing remarks, Kokovtsov indicates how Mariya Fyodorovna maintained her royal grace and dignity, even while in exile:

Outwardly, the life of the Empress proceeded in deep seclusion, in the modest conditions of the material situation, in the calm-majestical retention of Her royal dignity, in silent distance from everything that would tell Her about the terrible

39 “Тем временем, атмосфера кругом узников все более сгущалась. Из Севастополя и Ялты то и дело наезжали банды вооруженных людей в матросской и солдатской одежде, на грузовиках и в экипажах, требуя от охраны выдачи себе узников. Нередко у ворот ‘Дюльбера’ сталкивалось несколько банд, требовавших выдачи их себе и Начальнику охраны приходилось проявлять немало такта и изворотливость, что-бы освободиться от таких грозных по своим последствиям требований.” Ibid, p. 4.

40“С часа на час следовало ожидать, что новый, повторный потоке разрушения зальете русскую жемчужину и снова потекут реки неповинной крови и не спасутся от гибели те, кого охранил Господь до сих пор.” Ibid.

reality, which destroyed everything that was most dear to her in the world, to which She gave all Her best thoughts, all the tenderness of her soul.⁴¹

Note the use of capitals here to refer to Mariya Fyodorovna, indicating Kokovtsov’s recognition and respect for the former Empress. This fits well with IR’s consistent use of titles when referring to members of the Russian royal family and nobility in its occasional news items and journalist portraits. This dissertation will not, however, expand on this further.

Furthermore, Kokovtsov adds how Mariya Fyodorovna kept to herself as she did not share her suffering with anyone and almost seemed in denial of what had happened to Russia and to her family:

Inwardly, the Empress certainly suffered deeply and experienced Her sufferings alone, not sharing her experiences with anyone. It is generally accepted that the Empress did not believe in the terrible fate that befell Her son, his family, and the few of his servants who remained faithful to their duty. She never talked about it, and those close to her carefully diverted her attention away from everything that could tell Her about the unheard of atrocities. ⁴²

In his elaborations on the suffering of a prominent member of the Russian royal family, Kokovtsov in fact mainly emphasizes the emotions which every Russian émigré has experienced – ranging from fear and uncertainty amid the growing Bolshevik violence to the inevitable decision to flee into exile and the overwhelming feeling of loss, of both

loved ones and the motherland. As such, it can be argued, Kokovstov transforms the figure of Mariya Fyodorovna into a symbol of émigré suffering in general. What is more, she can be considered a moral example for the émigrés as well, considering Kokovtsov’s emphasis on her dignified, modest demeanor despite difficult circumstances.

In the summer of 1930, then again, spread over three issues IR publishes fragments of the first chapter of Grand Duchess Mariya Pavlovna’s abovementioned memoirs⁴³. As IR indicates, this chapter was originally published in the American Saturday Evening Post. In these memoirs, Mariya Pavlovna touches upon pivotal moments in Russian history, such as the murder of Grigori Rasputin and the imprisonment of the Tsarist family and their banishment to Siberia. These are all highly sensational episodes which, once again, reflect the combination of relatability and sensationalism so characteristic for IR. Furthermore, IR emphasizes the value of these recollections in an editorial introduction, claiming that it is “needless to emphasize the enormous interest that this material represents for us, the immediate witnesses and victims of the Storm described by the Grand Duchess, as well as for future historians”⁴⁴. According to IR, Mariya Pavlovna’s memoirs, thus, are significant on two levels. For IR’s readers, there is the aspect of relatability, as they undoubtedly followed the situation of the Tsar and his family closely, while simultaneously personally reflecting the experiences of the Bolshevik threat. Additionally, IR presents these memoirs as a valuable source of information for future historians, thereby adding the notions of truthfulness and authority.

Although the items on the Tsarist family (both visual and textual) in IR are relatively few, it can be concluded that they are nonetheless highly significant for the role of Tsarism in IR’s approach to preservationism. What is striking is the fact that that IR never really glorifies Tsarism in its articles and pictures, nor pronounces a wish for the return to Tsarism. Instead, IR depicts the royal family as (admittedly, very wealthy) human beings and innocent victims of Bolshevism. If anything, these items, above all, highlight Soviet violence and amorality, and portray the Romanovs as the ultimate symbol thereof. Additionally, by means of Kokovtsov’s portrait, the figure of Grand Duchess Mariya Fyodorovna is presented not only as a symbol of the suffering of the entire émigré community, sharing the same past and the same sorrows, but also as an example for the dignified way in which to carry these sorrows. In this light, it can be asserted, IR thus seems to use the topic of the Tsarist family as a means to

43 IR 1930-29(270) – 31(272).

44 “Излишне подчеркивать тот огромный интерес, который представляет этот материал как для нас, непосредственных свидетелей и жертв описываемой Великой Княгиней бури, так и для грядущих

strengthen community spirit among the émigrés, “the immediate witnesses and victims” of the Revolution.

Apart from providing the ‘royal’ perspective of the 1917 Revolution, IR also provides insight into the experiences of political figures. This is especially the case in October 1927, when the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution is observed in IR with a “Special October issue”⁴⁵. The entire contents of this issue are devoted to the tumultuous period of the Revolution, with many pictures and accompanying captions from the political, military and everyday life of that time, as well as a number of elaborate articles. In these articles, prominent émigré politicians shed light on the Revolution from their personal points of view. Remarkably, just as with the articles on Grand Duchess Mariya Fyodorovna, primary in those articles are the personal experiences of these politicians, marked by the sense of fear and powerlessness reigning during period, rather than actual insight into political life and decisions made at the time. As such, these political figures are, above all, presented as human beings of flesh and blood, experiencing the same emotions as the average Russian.

Additionally, there is no glorification of nor attack on the Provisional Government nor its role in the Revolution. Therefore, it can be maintained that IR, above all, commemorates the Revolution from a perspective relatable to its readers.

The special October issue opens with émigré historian and politician Pavel Milyukov’s recollections of his last day in Petrograd. Milyukov focuses on the chaos and uncertainty governing the (then) capital of the country, and emphasizes the common belief at the time that “the St. Petersburg putsch would be eliminated by Russia in one or two weeks.”⁴⁶ Similarly, in “October 25^th”⁴⁷, leading member of the Socialist-Revolutionary Party Nikolay Avksentiyev recalls the sense of powerlessness prevailing in the Provisional Government, the hope and despair experienced by its members. Finally, in the same October issue, another member of the Provisional Government, Sergey Tretyakov, also describes those last days before leaving the city as “a time of anguish and the feeling that the collapse [was] approaching quickly and [was] inevitable.”⁴⁸ Instead of reporting on the period’s complex political developments, IR shares a more relatable perspective and provides insight into how a number of people at the helm of the country personally experienced the chaos and tumult of those final days. Interestingly, as Milyukov, Avksentiyev and Tretyakov were

all members of the Provisional Government, to a certain extent they played a role in

all members of the Provisional Government, to a certain extent they played a role in