Guards on Fire, or What Destroyed the Russian Empire
Guards on the Champ de Mars
Memorable lines from forgotten memoirs
Many years ago, when I first read V.V. Shulgin’s “Days,” I noticed the following lines:
The Guard must not be sent to war. Let the adherents of the principle "Pereat patria, fiat justitia" (Latin for "Let the Fatherland perish, but justice shall prevail") be outraged by the "well-fed, red-cheeked Guardsmen" who sit in the rear—let them call them idlers and cowards—but this should not be ignored. The police are also plump and red-cheeked, and they cannot be sent to war. One of two things: either the Guard is needed or it is not. If it is not needed, then it should not exist at all, and if it is needed, then it is needed most of all during a difficult war, when riots, revolutions, and all manner of abominations can be expected. The Guard must remain completely intact, and its purpose is not to fight against external enemies, but against internal enemies. One can fight against the external enemy to the last soldier of the army and to the first soldier of the Guard. The Guard must exist in case the war is lost. A lost war always threatens revolution. But revolution is immeasurably worse than a lost war. Therefore, the Guard must be reserved for its sole and honorable duty—to fight revolution.
Much of that vivid, talented memoir has been forgotten in the last quarter of a century, but the words quoted remain etched in my memory. Especially in the context of my reflections on the causes of the 1917 Revolution.
V.V. Shulgin
Yes, it had a whole host of underlying causes. These included the degradation of the administrative apparatus, incapable of adequately responding to challenges; the activities of destructive forces represented by the Duma opposition and radical parties; problems with wartime rail transport; a series of unfortunate political decisions by the last tsar, both domestically and internationally; numerous government mistakes, not to mention ministerial reshuffles; and, in general, public fatigue with the war.
However, these challenges, in the context of the realities of 1917, did not lead to a stalemate for the monarchy. And, I believe, Shulgin correctly identified the fatal cause that led to the autocracy's demise: the guard, the support of the throne, must remain in the capital.
In fact, the essence of the guard is revealed in the prefix "leib", that is, it is the personal unit of the emperor, formed not at all for war, or rather, not primarily for war, especially during a period of internal instability of the monarchy, but to protect the throne and carry out, among other things, administrative functions.
The latter was what the officers of the first guards regiments under Peter I were engaged in, according to the historian I.V. Kurukin, when very young lieutenants could appear for an inspection to the gray-haired governor-general.
By the time of the First World War, Russia had the largest guard. Its loyalty to the throne is difficult to doubt, including in terms of the sentiments of the lower ranks:
Every year, military commanders, write historians D. Yu. Alekseev and A. V. Aranovich, sent the best recruits, "the cream of Russian youth," to the Guard. They were selected from Christians, primarily Orthodox, who had distinguished themselves by their "political reliability." Thanks to targeted ideological work, the Guard soldiers quickly became imbued with the spirit of the regimental traditions.
Regarding regimental traditions: peasants recruited into guards units from the time of Anna Ioannovna very quickly forgot their former belonging to the tax-paying class and began to perceive themselves as an elite, so it was difficult to propagandize them.
As for the officer corps, according to historian P.G. Kultyshev, it “maintained its social monolithicity and some isolation.”
The guards regiments, favored by the authorities, would hardly have allowed the unbridled—and unbridled in the full sense of the word—reserve units, who on the eve of the spring of 1917 did not want to part with the delights of capital life and looked longingly at the wine cellars of the stores, to tumble in disorderly ranks into the Winter or Tauride Palace.
Let's imagine, Shulgin muses, that in 1917 we had an intact and politically completely reliable Guard. No revolution would have occurred. The worst that would have happened would have been the abdication of Emperor Nicholas II. Then, let's assume the disintegrating army abandoned the front. The new emperor or regent would have made peace—even if it was unfavorable, but what could they do? Then, with the help of the Guard, they would have restored order everywhere, for we know very well that mutinous troops are incapable of fighting regiments that have maintained discipline.
Let me make a few comments on this quote. The disintegration of an army becomes irreversible either after a serious military defeat or with the collapse of power. In France, for example, where by 1918 the processes of disintegration had also begun in front-line units, but the government and command remained firm, no revolution occurred.
In Germany, there is an anti-monarchist uprising by sailors fleet It began with the absurd decision of the expressive Wilhelm II in October 1918, in the context of an obviously strategically lost war, to give a naval battle to the British.
As for Russia, before the infamous order of the Petrograd Soviet number 1, issued the day before the abdication of Nicholas II, there were no signs of mass disintegration of the Imperial Army units.
What is the guard for?
Given the military realities of early spring 1917, had the Tsar not abdicated, the Tsarist government would hardly have needed to conclude a separate peace, especially one that was disadvantageous. The troops faced the entirely feasible task of holding the front without undertaking active offensive operations, while Germany, in anticipation of the American Expeditionary Force's landing in France, was preparing its final offensive in Flanders. The Germans, much less their Austro-Hungarian allies, were in no position to wage active war on two fronts.
The women's uprising in Petrograd in the twenties of February could have been neutralized by timely deliveries of bread without the use of, in modern terms, security forces.
The strike movement also didn't represent a stalemate for the capital's authorities. After all, protests of this kind aren't spontaneous, and they could have been contained by arresting the ringleaders or at least finding a way to negotiate with them.
The revolt of the spare parts seemed realistically suppressable, and without much bloodshed, simply by blocking the rebels in the barracks with the guards regiments loyal to the tsar, who, although they had not smelled gunpowder, were regular troops and had not suffered irreparable losses at the front.
However, these were the irreplaceable losses that the guards suffered by 1917. Moreover, the losses were also due to the poor training of some guards units, especially cavalry units, which did not meet the requirements of modern warfare.
Evidence of this is the memoirs of Nicholas I’s grandson, Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich:
In July 1914, shortly before the outbreak of the "Great War," a grand parade of units of the capital's guard was held on the Champ de Mars in honor of the visit of French President Raymond Poincaré to Russia. The parade ended with a cavalry charge. This charge was the highlight of the entire parade. At the end of the Champ de Mars, the entire cavalry present at the parade, two divisions in total, lined up. Then, at the command of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, the entire mass of cavalry charged at full gallop toward the guest tent, where Emperor Nicholas II and the French president were observing the parade. The scene was truly majestic and even eerie. At the command of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, the entire galloping mass of cavalry suddenly stopped before the royal retinue and guests. The officers lowered their steeds. weapon, saluting, and the trumpeters began to play "The Guards' March."
Commenting on this episode, historian A. L. Nikiforov notes, not without irony:
Indeed, the Guards Cavalry's training was mesmerizing. For the wars of the early 19th century, it would have been excellent preparation. But what to do if this mass of cavalry was met not by the Champ de Mars parade ground, but by ravines lined with barbed wire, behind which cold-blooded machine gunners awaited them, the Tsarist commanders didn't particularly consider.
Major General B.M. Gerua, who began his service after graduating from the Page Corps in the Life Guards Jaeger Regiment, was less harsh in his assessment of the guard's training, but he, too, casually mentioned the "official tactics of Krasnoye Selo," where the training and parades of the corresponding regiments took place.
And it’s not that the authorities were concerned about the inadequacy of the Guards Cavalry’s training for modern warfare:
Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, writes A. L. Nikiforov, at similar summer maneuvers in 1913, summing up the results of the maneuvers, expressed a profound phrase that characterizes the level of military-strategic thinking of the highest tsarist generals: “I can add that the maneuver played out excellently: the infantry attacked, the cavalry galloped, artillery shot. Thank you, gentlemen!"
For my part, I'll note that I read these very words in Gerua's memoirs, only they referred to the Grand Duke, Infantry General Vladimir Alexandrovich, and concerned maneuvers that took place before the Russo-Japanese War. In fact, before the war, Vladimir Alexandrovich commanded the Guard for just over twenty years.
Gerua praises his human qualities, but fails to mention his military talent. And among the Grand Duke's hobbies, it's hard to spot military affairs. It's also telling: the guard was led by a man loyal to the throne, but not, in essence, a military man. In any case, Gerua's memoirs left me with this impression of Vladimir Alexandrovich.
The military competence of another Grand Duke – the aforementioned Nikolai Nikolaevich – is evidenced by an episode cited in the memoirs of Lieutenant General A.I. Denikin:
An episode that occurred in 1911 demonstrates how slowly the idea of the need for training entered the minds of the military elite. At the initiative of War Minister Sukhomlinov, a military game was organized in the Winter Palace, with the participation of district commanders—future army commanders—who had been summoned for the purpose. The game was to be conducted in the presence of the Tsar, who personally participated in drafting the initial directives as the future Supreme Commander-in-Chief. Everything was prepared in the palace halls for the game. But an hour before the appointed time, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, Commander-in-Chief of the St. Petersburg Military District, persuaded the Tsar to cancel it.
Nicholas II and Nikolai Nikolaevich the Younger, in the middle - Count V.B. Fredericks
Comment, as they say, is superfluous. Incidentally, although the local government books were burned back in 1682 by order of Tsar Feodor Alekseevich, the act itself, not particularly veiled, survived until 1914 and manifested itself in the appointment of the aforementioned Tsar's uncle to the post of Commander-in-Chief, a man who lacked understanding of the realities of modern warfare. Just as Nicholas Nikolaevich the Elder, appointed by his brother-monarch to command the army in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878, was unsuited to the position by any criteria other than family ties.
Thus, relative to the goals and objectives of modern warfare, the training of some Guards units was not high. But, I repeat, the paradox is that the Guards were not designed for modern warfare at all.
Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich wrote:
The Second Army (until August 1915, it was part of the Northwestern Front – I.Kh.) consisted partly of guards regiments, the best Russian units, which for decades had been the main support of the imperial system and were now sent to “save Paris.”
"The best" and "support of the throne" are not entirely synonymous concepts. The best units are those that meet the requirements of modern warfare in terms of combat training and technical equipment. The support of the throne must be distinguished by loyalty to the government, shine at parades, serve as masters of ceremonies, and, most importantly, ensure the safety of the monarch and his family.
An example was set on December 14, 1825, by the Life Guards Sapper Battalion, led by Colonel A.K. Gerua, who organized the defense of the Winter Palace from a possible attack by the rebels—alas, also guardsmen. Yes, the Life Guards sappers also proved themselves in the Russo-Turkish War of 1828–1829, but in completely different circumstances. historical realities when there was no direct threat to the monarchy.
However, even in February 1917, the Guards units fighting at the front could still have played a role in preventing revolution. Alexander Mikhailovich recalled:
The grain shortages in Petrograd were growing longer and longer, even though wheat and rye were rotting along the entire great Siberian route and in the Southwestern region. The capital's garrison, composed of recruits and reserves, was certainly too unreliable a support in the event of serious unrest. I asked the military command if they planned to recall reliable units from the front. I was told that thirteen Guards Cavalry Regiments were expected to arrive from the front. Later, I learned that the traitors at Headquarters, under the influence of the leaders of the State Duma, had dared to rescind the Tsar's order.
Yes, perhaps the front-line guards regiments no longer felt sympathy for Nicholas II personally – after all, rumors of Rasputinism and the empress's Germanophilia had discredited the throne in broad public and military circles – but they were quite capable of bringing to their senses those who did not want to send the reserves to the front.
Aside: G.E. Rasputin's influence at court during the Soviet era was exaggerated by both historiography and cinema ("Agony"). The nonsense about Alexandra Feodorovna's Germanophilia was dispelled by the Extraordinary Investigative Commission of the Provisional Government.
Unpreserved Tradition
In conclusion, I'd like to note that this article isn't about the monarchy per se—whether it was rotten or not—nor is it about the personality of the last emperor. It's about a specific military-political decision that, according to Shulgin's idea—and, in my view, correct one—could have saved the autocracy in the current historical circumstances, allowing Russia to end the First World War on favorable terms.
Of course, the guard could have become a tool in the hands of certain court circles, as was the case in the age of palace coups. I also see a coup in St. Petersburg in 1917 as possible, but its result, I suppose, would have been a transfer of power in favor of someone from the House of Romanov, without any serious upheaval to the foundations of statehood.
The most likely candidates for the throne were: Tsarevich Alexei, with one of the Grand Dukes acting as regent; as well as Nicholas Nikolaevich the Younger or Nicholas II's brother, Mikhail Alexandrovich, who, in the circumstances of March 1917, refrained from accepting the crown.
Spring 1917 in Petrograd
However, a change in the bearer of power without affecting the form of government itself is not identical, through revolution, to a change in the socio-economic formation, which occurred in the aforementioned year and resulted in a great deal of bloodshed.
Of course, later, after the war ended, the emperor—whether Nicholas II or one of his successors—would inevitably have transformed the monarchy from autocratic to constitutional, for such is the logic of history: society changed, and yesterday's supporters of the throne—the Gayevs, for example—gave way to the Lopakhins. The role of the nobility in public and military life, and, most importantly, in the imperial system of governance, gradually diminished.
And the guard could not ignore this, especially since its social composition was changing:
At the beginning of the 20th century, in the Russian Guard, as in the entire army as a whole, a gradual infiltration of people from other classes began to appear, writes P. G. Kultyshev, who, thanks to their financial status, could afford to serve in the Guards regiments.
In the near future, looking back at the beginning of 1917, the days of autocracy were numbered, but the regular units of the Guard, had they not found themselves at the front, could well have ensured an evolutionary path of development for the country in place of the revolutionary one, contributing to the preservation of the monarchy as a symbol of Russian statehood and its historical traditions.
References
Alexander Mikhailovich. Memories. Moscow, Centerpoligraf, 2024.
Alekseev D. Yu., Aranovich A. V. Russian Guard during the First World War
Gerua B.V. Memories of my life. Vol. 1. Paris: Military-historical publishing house "Tanais", 1969
Denikin, A.I. The Path of a Russian Officer. Moscow: Prometheus, 1990
Kultyshev P.G. Service of officers in the Russian Imperial Guard at the beginning of the 20th century: status, life, leisureг
Nikiforov A.L. The Russian Imperial Guard during World War I
Shulgin V.V. Days. 1920: Notes. Moscow: Sovremennik, 1989
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