Eventually, the demonstrators ran into army pickets. In some places the troops fired warning shots into the air, but the masses, pushed from behind, pressed on. The soldiers, untrained in controlling crowds, reacted in the only way they knew, by firing point-blank at the advancing crowd. The worst altercation occurred at the Narva Gate, in the southwestern part of the city, where Gapon led the demonstrators. The troops fired and the crowd fell to the ground: there were 40 dead. Gapon rose to his feet and cried: “There is no God anymore, there is no Tsar.” Massacres occurred also in other parts of the city. Although journalists spoke of 4,600 killed and wounded, the best estimate is 200 killed and 800 injured.* Immediately, disorders spread throughout St. Petersburg. In the evening, there was much looting, especially of shops carrying liquor and firearms.58
Bloody Sunday caused a wave of revulsion to sweep across the country: among the masses, it damaged irreparably the image of the “good Tsar.”
Mirskii received his walking papers on January 18 without so much as a word of thanks: he was the first Minister of the Interior since the post had been created a century earlier to be let go without some honorific title or even a medal.59
His replacement, a colorless bureaucrat named Alexander Bulygin, also resisted as long as he decently could the honor of being named minister. Real power now passed into the hands of D. F. Trepov, who took over from Fullon the post of governor-general in the capital. A dashing officer, he had the complete confidence of Nicholas, who appreciated his candor and lack of personal ambition: in the months that followed, Trepov would exert a rather beneficial influence on Nicholas, persuading him to make concessions that he would rather have avoided.*In the wake of Bloody Sunday protest meetings took place throughout Russia:
Russia stood on the edge of an abyss. It seemed as if the country was boiling over from anger, envy, and resentments of every imaginable kind which until then had been kept contained under a lid of awe and fear. Now that the population had lost respect for the government, there was nothing to hold society together: neither civic sense nor patriotism. For it was the state that made Russia a country, not vice versa. It was a horrifying spectacle to many Russians to see how tenuous the bonds holding the Empire together were and how powerful the divisive passions.
As was its custom in such cases, the government’s first (and often last) reaction to a domestic crisis was to appoint a commission to investigate its causes, which in this instance were worker grievances. Chaired by Senator N. V. Shidlovskii, the commission took the unprecedented step of inviting factory workers to send representatives. In the second week of February 1905 elections were held in St. Petersburg factories, in which 145,000 workers cast ballots: the delegates they chose in turn picked representatives to the commission. Despite its dramatic beginning, the commission accomplished nothing because the workers posed conditions which were found unacceptable, whereupon it was dissolved. Even so, it was of considerable historic importance. Not only were these the “first free worker elections ever” held in Russia,64
but “for the first time in Russian history there was an elected representation of a large body of workers … and not merely workers in separate factories.”65 By recognizing workers as a distinct social group, with its own interests, the government laid the foundations of what later in the year would emerge as the St. Petersburg Soviet of Workers’ Deputies.