“In essence,” said Nicky, “we are talking about a constitution. ”
Witte bowed his head. “Most definitely. And this is a path I defend most energetically. As I have said, if this is agreed to and my actions are not interfered with, then, Sire, I will be pleased to accept the Presidency of the Council of Ministers.”
But of course a constitution was quite intolerable to both Nicky and Alicky. It was not simply a matter of the giving up of power, for I knew for a fact that Nicky would have been only too glad to walk away from this business of ruling. A farm or an estate in a distant province, that was his sincerest wish. But God had laid upon Nicky’s shoulders the heavy burden of Throne, and a constitution would mean the abandonment of the pledge he had sworn to the Almighty. And if the Tsar abandoned God, would not God abandon him? And what, then, of the Heir Tsarevich, who was so in need of a miracle? Even worse, would God next not abandon Russia as well? Most of all, Nicky and Alicky feared what would happen to their subjects if he turned his back on God, for Nicky had solemnly sworn to protect and lord over his people and lead them to prosperity. That was his oath, sworn to before God and man at his coronation. So many criticized Nicky this way and that, but I knew firsthand what others might not, that there was no one more dedicated to the Motherland.
In all her letters, Alicky was so concerned, so worried for the future of her country, so distraught at the thought of handing over a weakened Empire to her son, this boy who was the hope of the Dynasty yet who himself was not of strong health. And yet she wrote me that there were only two who tried to convince Nicky to hold steadfast the Throne and not bow to pressure-and these two were Count Ignatiev and Court Minister Fredericks, the dear old sweet. All the others whom Nicky consulted were of the same opinion, that there was no other course. Within the family I even heard it said that Nikolasha-Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich-threatened to blow his brains out with a revolver if Nicky did not sign. For days on end Nicky and Witte discussed every option at great length, and in the end, invoking God’s help, Nicky signed. It was, I knew in my depths, a difficult decision for Nicky, one that he nevertheless took quite consciously.
“In the end,” he later told me, “I had no other way out but to cross myself and give what everyone was asking for.”
Yes, quite. And with a single signature the autocracy, which Holy Mother Russia had known for time on end, had capitulated.
But Nicky’s ukaz, granting liberties of speech and gathering and press, not to mention rights to the Duma itself, seemed to satisfy no one. In short time a handful of Grand Dukes and nobles started grumbling, saying they continued to believe in the autocratic principle, and claiming over and over that the peasant masses needed a master to rule over them, that Russia was far too backward and uneducated for such drastic reforms. Sadly, most everyone else felt the Tsar hadn’t gone far enough, some spouting for a republic, others saying we needed a constitutional monarchy modeled on that of England. To everyone’s surprise, the workers were like greedy children, the more they got, the more they wanted. Indeed, these new freedoms seemed to do nothing but make matters worse, for the common people, so naïve and ready to believe anything, began clustering here and there at will, listening to the revolutionaries, who were speaking any number of provocative and disgraceful things. As if this weren’t enough, telegrams began arriving from across the Empire about attacks upon the Jews. Just appalling, and it was no wonder that word came around, too, that many of them were taking their few possessions and fleeing to America.
May God bless Russia and send her peace, that was the prayer we uttered with every breath. It was anyone’s guess what the future would bring. One could only hope that the Lord had not and would not abandon us. I was only happy that my Sergei was at peace near God and had been spared this awful time.
Towards December, when the revolutionaries grew particularly violent and began setting up barricade after barricade, it became perfectly obvious that Nicky’s government was teetering on the verge of total collapse. Finally, our troops began appearing in the streets, and though at first we all feared that they would cross over to the other side, they were somehow rallied and fought back with great force, even using machine guns and artillery. Still, the outcome was anything but certain. As the days fell one darker than the last, as the sounds of bullets shattered the moments and our nerves, it seemed that nothing could forestall the gathering storm, and the revolutionaries abandoned any pretense and began calling openly for total revolt. The cry for blood could be heard everywhere.
Only those who were there know the horrors through which we lived. How the Empire managed to survive was anyone’s guess.
And yet for me there was one bright spot that burned brighter and brighter with divine clarity. This idea of mine, which had, I supposed, been brewing for quite some time, years even, burst forth with great intensity soon after the death of Sergei and became completely clear by the end of that year. Yes, I had longed to do good for people, but it was true I had long been constrained as much by my husband as by my high position. The tragedy of the past year, however, had torn my reality to shreds, freed me for a truer calling, and in this way my duty and my future were more easily seen than ever before. My plans occupied my every waking moment.
One day I beckoned Varya, who had become my most devoted lady’s maid, requesting simply, “Please see to it that virtually every one of my jewels is brought into my boudoir.”
Varya, a kind soul, not tall of stature and of plain face, hesitated, and then asked, “Your Highness, what…? I mean, is there a particular piece that Your Highness is searching for? Perhaps your Mistress of the Robes could be more helpful in this matter than I. I could fetch her, if you like.”
I smiled gently. Those closest to me had expressed such kind concern these past months, worried by the sad look in my eyes, the way I seemed detached and uninterested in my customary doings. I could see on their faces their misgivings for me, and I was aware to a degree how my people had been watching out for me and trying to cushion me from the difficult events beyond the Kremlin walls. It was true, my thinking had not been entirely logical since the death of my husband. However, in the decision I was about to make I was entirely certain, and in a most odd way there were but few whom I trusted more than this maid, whose modest soul, I knew, was of complete purity and honesty. Indeed, she was one of a handful I gladly kept on, for in recent months I had greatly reduced my quantity of servants and the size of my court, kindly pleading to most of my ladies that their services were no longer required.
I repeated, “I would like all of my jewelry brought from the glass-topped cabinets of my dressing room. Please bring these things into my boudoir and open the cases and the velvet bags in which they lie. And please do not be alarmed, Varya, this is all of good intention.”
“Da-s, Your Highness,” she said with a polite curtsey.
It was no secret in proper society-let alone amongst the petty dish rags-that with the death of Sergei, I was now the richest Grand Duchess in the Empire, for I had been Sergei’s sole legatee. Of course, I still had use of the 100 million gold rubles that upon my marriage Alexander III had placed on deposit for my use, but now I had inherited so much more-when presented with the figures, even I found them staggering. But in truth I did not see myself as owner of so many grand palaces, or these vast estates with their villages and thousands of peasants, or the priceless works of art and so on. No, I viewed myself a steward. And now I was a steward with a calling. It was odd. Once I had cared for nothing more than fine gowns and jewels, fancy balls and extravagant entertainments, not to mention the admiring eyes that followed me-more than once it came to my ears that the two most beautiful women in Europe were the two Elisabeths, myself and Sisi, the Empress Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary. However, costume and dress and dance, for which I had been so well known in the best society all across the Continent, were gone from me now, things virtually not of interest, not any more. Where once I had found joy in merriments that lasted until dawn, now at sunrest I found complete and utter peace there on my knees and at prayer before an icon. Yes, at the end of my day I longed for nothing more than to pop into the chapel to bid Sergei good night.