“Ach,” I moaned. “What do you think, Dora, shall I go up and strangle that bird right this minute?”
“No, Pavel, just be patient. I’ve heard it said that it takes about a year and a half to train those things.” Smiling for the second time that afternoon, she said, “And I would wager you a gold ruble that within two years’ time all the birds around here will be singing the ‘Internationale.’ ”
Chapter 27 ELLA
I quite remember how my sister first lost the affection of the people, and she did so innocently and against all the force of her strong will too. Contrary to her great determination and prayers, she gave birth to Olga. And while Nicky and Alicky soothed their disappointments by telling each other that because their firstborn was a girl they wouldn’t have to give her up to the people, good society and the rest of the Empire were not entirely pleased with Alicky, not really. Nicky’s youngest sister had been born to a seated and anointed Emperor, of course, but an heir to the throne-which had to be male according to the Semi-Salic laws initiated by Emperor Paul-had not been born in the purple for, heavens, longer than anyone could remember, and we were all awaiting this glorious event as a heavenly sign of Russia’s future prosperity. But after Olga came beautiful Tatyana, and after Tatyana came Maria, and after Maria came Anastasiya. By that time of course Alicky had become so unpopular, not just in the highest court circles but among the common people as well, with many certain that she was a traitor to our nation for not producing a boy. Then finally and at long last came our dear, sweet Aleksei, and with the birth of the Heir Tsetsarevich, well, Alicky was in some ways redeemed, for the dynasty could go on.
I thought of this sad lesson often in the days after my venture beyond the Kremlin walls. I thought of it often due to the great disharmony I had seen on the streets and the fear that that poor wounded girl had expressed toward us members of the Ruling House. Alicky had only barely repaired her image and reputation, but I sensed Nicky’s present situation to be poor at best, and his future prospects dim.
Hoping to prove myself wrong, I forced the issue with the wounded officers at my hospital, begging them to overlook my high rank and speak truly, and I gathered word of the street from others as well, and as far as I could tell these things were passed to me without corruption. In short time it was perfectly clear that Nicky had lost completely the affection of his people, and this broke my heart. And while Alicky had in some ways improved her situation with the birth of the Heir Tsarevich, I knew only too well that love for an emperor once lost-worse yet, betrayed and shattered-was almost impossible to reclaim. And yet the power of Nicky’s Throne was based upon this, upon love of God and Tsar, and without this what would happen, what fate awaited us all? Without a tsar to keep this vast nation glued together, then what?
Among other things, whatever the future had in store for the Dynasty I sadly had to accept that Nicky and Alicky would never again be safe in the midst of their people. There would henceforth be a far greater fear of assassin’s bullet or bomb, and ultimately, one had to admit, there would likely be a bloody deed once again, for I knew only too well that our simple people could be sweet and kind one moment but so very cruel and violent the next. I had heard tell that there had been no fewer than ten attempts upon Nicky’s grandfather, Aleksander II, before that hideous success, and God only knew how many attempts had been made against my beloved Sergei before he too was taken.
Oh, I cried and I prayed as much for my dear sister and her huzzy as I did-no, I prayed even more-for my beloved adopted homeland. What path had we gone down? Were we forever lost? God help and guide us-that was my prayer morning, noon, and night. How had this hateful current sweeping across the country been awakened? Could prayer and love actually soothe its tempest, or were we doomed? No, I told myself over and over, God would not forsake this wonderful land.
Throughout all these dark days I heard regularly from my sister, who wrote me at length several times each and every day. Nicky and she dared not leave Tsarskoye, she told me, and so in essence they continued to be trapped there behind the great gates of the Palace. Simply unimaginable and what a disgrace! Alas, because of the disruptions I received her letters only with difficulty; they were brought to me not by post, which had ceased to function, but by one of my countesses, who somehow managed to travel back and forth between our two great cities, this despite the railway strikes and the many dangers en route.
From Alicky I learned that through all of those trying days, Nicky met constantly with Count Witte, whose past policies had encouraged the industrialization of Russia and brought such explosive economic growth. Too, Witte, a large, gruff man, had just been sent to America to negotiate the peace with Japan, and he had done such an admirable job that he made our defeat nearly tolerable. Because of these successes, Nicky had him fetched to the Palace each and every day to discuss and, God willing, find a solution to the quagmire in which Russia was now stuck. They met not in Nicky’s New Study, decorated in the Style Moderne, but in the Working Study just next door. Nicky, I knew since years, preferred meeting his ministers and councillors in this smaller room, with its dark-wood paneling and Nicky’s L-shaped desk, covered with family photos, appointment diaries, and folders. And Alicky, trying to comprehend what was happening to our world, recounted me at length of their meetings.
“Sire, it seems that there are only two ways open,” said Witte, who was seated not on the nearby large divan but on the wooden chair in front of the desk. “The first would be to find a soldier with an iron fist who could and would crush the rebellion with sheer force. If this is the course you choose, perhaps your uncle, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, would be the right person. He has always enjoyed great respect amongst the soldiery.”
Nicky clearly understood all that this meant, and replied, “By this you mean essentially establishing a dictatorship?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I’m afraid so.”
“That would entail rivers of blood, and in the end we would be where we had started.” Nicky sighed and glanced over to the wall at a portrait of his father, Aleksander III. “If Papa were still alive, that is of course the path that he would follow. And there are many members of my family who would encourage me to do so as well, to hang each and every revolutionary.”
With a sad shrug, Witte replied, “Unfortunately, the unrest is so widespread that to hang them all would require many lampposts-more, I would venture, than would be tolerable. Perhaps even more than exist in the whole of both Sankt Peterburg and Moscow.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you are correct on that. Of course, the other way out would be to give to the people their civil rights-the freedom of speech and press and so on. This is what is being asked of me… and, as you know, some are demanding such things even for the Jews.”
“This I understand all too well. And virtually every faction is demanding that all new laws be conformed by the new State Duma, which Your Majesty has promised to convene.”
Just that past August, of course, Nicky had issued an Imperial ukaz declaring that a State Duma, a kind of parliament, be organized. And while that had been well received amongst many, many others agitated that it wasn’t enough. In short, Nicky’s manifesto hadn’t been sufficient to quell the unrest. The people wanted more. They wanted this Duma to have real power, real oversight, which, of course, would mean the complete finality of autocracy in Russia.