Thursday, 22nd January

On this very day in 1905...

"The Russian Revolution began on 'Bloody Sunday'"

Wikipedia, oh help me please!!

Bloody Sunday (Russian: Кровавое воскресенье) was an incident on January 22 [O.S. January 9] 1905 in St. Petersburg, Russia, where unarmed, peaceful demonstrators marching to present a petition to Tsar Nicholas II were gunned down by the Imperial Guard. The march was organized by Father Gapon, who had collaborated with Sergei Zubatov of the Okhrana, the Tsarist secret police, to create workers' organizations^[1] and thus considered by some to be its agent provocateur. Bloody Sunday was an event with grave consequences for the Tsarist regime, as the blatant disregard for ordinary people shown by the massacre undermined support for the state.

Whilst I use wikipedia on matters of history, I must point out that the most interesting parts of the entry are on the talk page. This often happens, especially when articles ar so hopelessly put together as this one. When someone is moved to write "1000 dead? Seriously? Most books I have read have placed it at around 200. Anyone have any evidence to back up the 1000 dead claim?" then you know you're dealing with a heightened level of contentiousness - with a certain degree of haziness.

It helps, sometimes, to read both pages if you're serious about using wikipedia. And of course check as many of the citations at the bottom as possible!

Instead, I'll round off with something I found elsewhere, a passage from"The Story of My Life" by Father George Gapon, who organized the march. It illuminates the story far better than any endlessly peer-reviewed user-edited encyclopedia:

The procession moved in a compact mass. In front of me were my two bodyguards and a yellow fellow with dark eyes from whose face his hard labouring life had not wiped away the light of youthful gaiety. On the flanks of the crowd ran the children. Some of the women insisted on walking in the first rows, in order, as they said, to protect me with their bodies, and force had to be used to remove them.

Suddenly the company of Cossacks galloped rapidly towards us with drawn swords. So, then, it was to be a massacre after all! There was no time for consideration, for making plans, or giving orders. A cry of alarm arose as the Cossacks came down upon us. Our front ranks broke before them, opening to right and left, and down the lane the soldiers drove their horses, striking on both sides. I saw the swords lifted and falling, the men, women and children dropping to the earth like logs of wood, while moans, curses and shouts filled the air.

Again we started forward, with solemn resolution and rising rage in our hearts. The Cossacks turned their horses and began to cut their way through the crowd from the rear. They passed through the whole column and galloped back towards the Narva Gate, where - the infantry having opened their ranks and let them through - they again formed lines.

We were not more than thirty yards from the soldiers, being separated from them only by the bridge over the Tarakanovskii Canal, which here masks the border of the city, when suddenly, without any warning and without a moment's delay, was heard the dry crack of many rifle-shots. Vasiliev, with whom I was walking hand in hand, suddenly left hold of my arm and sank upon the snow. One of the workmen who carried the banners fell also. Immediately one of the two police officers shouted out "What are you doing? How dare you fire upon the portrait of the Tsar?"

An old man named Lavrentiev, who was carrying the Tsar's portrait, had been one of the first victims. Another old man caught the portrait as it fell from his hands and carried it till he too was killed by the next volley. With his last gasp the old man said "I may die, but I will see the Tsar".

Both the blacksmiths who had guarded me were killed, as well as all these who were carrying the ikons and banners; and all these emblems now lay scattered on the snow. The soldiers were actually shooting into the courtyards at the adjoining houses, where the crowd tried to find refuge and, as I learned afterwards, bullets even struck persons inside, through the windows.

At last the firing ceased. I stood up with a few others who remained uninjured and looked down at the bodies that lay prostrate around me. Horror crept into my heart. The thought flashed through my mind, And this is the work of our Little Father, the Tsar". Perhaps the anger saved me, for now I knew in very truth that a new chapter was opened in the book of history of our people.

Quote! Quote!!

"He is a good man who can receive a gift well" - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ralp Waldo Emerson

Of course, Wikipedia is handy occasionally for a brief "who's that?" enquiry. Enjoy!

Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882) was an American essayist, philosopher, poet, and leader of the Transcendentalist movement in the early 19th century. His teachings directly influenced the growing New Thought movement of the mid 1800s.