The Last Tsar (9 page)

At first the empress-mother tried to appear everywhere at her son’s side.

Vera Leonidovna:

“At that time the dowager empress suddenly seemed astonishingly young. All Petersburg was intrigued by this puzzle. People said that this stunning woman had decided to undergo an operation in Paris. She had heard about this operation from the future English Queen Alexandra—that is to say, she saw its fruits. Despite her age, Alexandra literally stunned everyone with her youthfulness.… It is a hideous operation: first the epidermis is removed from the face with a sharp spoon and the face is transformed into one great wound. The wound is moisturized and treated and a clear lacquer is applied to the face. This new, tender, pure face has to be treated very carefully so as not to spoil the lacquer. What comes next is even more painful: widening the hair follicles to insert long eyelashes. The entire operation demands heroism.”

The poor woman had to reconcile herself to this pain: the young emperor must have a young mother by his side.

Russian sovereigns were crowned in the ancient Assumption Cathedral in Moscow.

On May 6 the imperial train, with the entire large Romanov family aboard, departed for Moscow.

“6 May, 1896. For the first time since our wedding we have had to sleep apart. Very tiresome. Arose at 9. After coffee answered telegrams. Even on the railway they do not leave me in peace. Met in Klin by Uncle Sergei [his former superior, Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, who had become governor-general of Moscow]. Arrived in Moscow at 5, in dreadful weather: rain, wind, cold.”

——

According to custom, before the ceremonial entry into Moscow for the coronation, the sovereigns had to stay in the old Petrovsky Palace located outside the Tver gate, at that time a verst (less than a mile) from Moscow. Here they spent three days in the castle with Gothic windows and romantic turrets that Catherine the Great had built to commemorate the victory over the Turks.

“7 May. Awoke to the same grim weather.… Received Henry’s [the brother of Emperor Wilhelm] enormous suite, and the princes—of Baden, Wurtemberg, and Japan.”

Royal Europe and all the rest of the world were converging for the coronation of the Russian autocrat.

On the day of the ceremonial entrance into Moscow, for the first time the sun came out, setting Moscow’s countless golden cupolas and churches on fire.

Early morning. The young empress, golden hair to her waist, was standing by a Gothic window, looking out at the towers of the Petrovsky Palace—the continuation of the same fairy tale!

The magnificent procession set out for the Kremlin.

“9 May. The first hard day for us—the day of our entrance into Moscow. By 12 an entire gang of princes had gathered, with whom we sat down to lunch. At 2.30 the procession began to move. I was riding on Norma, Mama was sitting in the first gold carriage and Alix in the second, also alone.”

There was one strange incident. They paid a visit to the holiest place in all of Russia: the Trinity-St. Sergius monastery. But when they got to the monastery, there was no one to meet them. No one remembered until the tsar had already set foot on the territory of the monastery. The mixup was due to poor coordination among those in charge of the coronation ceremonies; but some saw it as an omen: the most honored holy man in Russia, Sergii Radonezhsky, had not greeted the new tsar.

“13 May. Settled in the Kremlin.… We had to receive an entire army of suites of arriving princes. May the merciful Lord help us, may He strengthen us tomorrow and bless us for a peaceful life of work.”

He followed his note with three exclamation points and a cross. The coronation, his marriage to Russia—for the religious Nicholas this was one of the greatest days in his life.

May 14, 1896. The procession from the Kremlin to Assumption Cathedral. The empress-mother wore a small diamond crown, and
four generals bore her purple. Then, to cries of “Hurrah,” they entered the cathedral—Nicholas and Alexandra.

“14 May, 1896. A great day, a triumphant day, but for Alix, Mama, and me, difficult in the moral sense.

“We were on our feet since 8 in the morning. The weather, happily, was marvelous. The Red Staircase presented a shining prospect. It all took place in Assumption Cathedral, though it seems a dream, I shall not forget it my whole life long.”

Candles burned … the cherubic song a cappella.… He took the large crown from the metropolitan’s hands and put it on his own head. She went down on her knees before him. He removed the crown and touched the crown of Empire to her head. And again the crown was on his head. A small diamond crown already sparkled on her golden hair. Four ladies-in-waiting fastened it with gold pins. Nicholas and Alexandra took their thrones in the ancient cathedral, and the empress-mother kissed Nicky four times. Then the former empress brushed Alix’s cheek with two kisses.

How young, how happy they were.

They made three deep bows to the people from the Red Staircase.

“At 3 we went to the table in the Hall of Facets.… We had dinner with Mama, who bore up to this entire long trial excellently. At 9 we went to the upper balcony, where Alix lit the lamp on Ivan the Great. Then, afterward, the towers and walls of the Kremlin were illuminated.”

The Hessian princess looked out on the golden cupola of the great cathedral: the capital of half the world, the lights of the ancient capital of Europe and Asia, sparkled.

The empress-mother did indeed bear up to this whole long trial excellently. Her endurance would stand her in good stead the next day as well.

“17 May.… At 1.15 we went to congratulate the ladies. We began with the grand duchesses, then the ladies-in-waiting, the ladies of the town.… My legs ached occasionally….

“We went to the Bolshoi for the ceremonial performance. As usual, they were giving the first and last act of
Life for the Tsar
and a beautiful new ballet,
The Pearl.”
This “beautiful new ballet” was the very one in which, to the public’s amazement, Kschessinska appeared onstage.

The empress looked at the stage, at the detested Little K., and longed for revenge.

——

The next morning, on May 18, she wiped both the ill-starred ballet and triumphant Mathilde from her memory. May 18 became one of the most awful days in her son’s reign.

According to custom, after a coronation there was an outdoor fête for the people, where free food, candies, cookies, and so on were given out. As if the tsar were feeding his people. A site for the fête was chosen outside the city limits on Khodynka Meadow. The ancient “bread and circuses”—Caesar and his people.

Gaudy tents had been set up with sweets on Khodynka Meadow. Mugs were to be given out as well, coronation mugs with seals—and all for free. But forgotten ditches lay between the tents and the crowd that had gathered on the evening of the 17th (the number 17 again!). Forgotten thanks to the sloppiness of those in charge. Many were those who had come for the free refreshments; at least half a million crowded around—the crush was so great a bullet could not have slipped through. Everyone was waiting for the present-giving to commence. Then shouts rang out—people were suffocating in the crowd. Someone thought the dainties were being passed out! They pressed in. As this mass of bodies began to move, they fell into the trenches, and the crowd trampled over their heads, crushed their rib cages.

At dawn the broken corpses were carted out.

Twenty-two years later, also at dawn, also in carts, the corpses of Nicholas and his family would also be carried away.

When Minister Witte got into his coach that afternoon to attend the continuation of the festivities, he had already been informed about the two thousand dead on Khodynka Meadow. But by the time the brilliant carriages approached Khodynka everything had already been carefully cleared away—there was no trace of the catastrophe. The sun was shining, all of Europe’s aristocracy was in the pavilion, and a large orchestra was performing a cantata in honor of the coronation. The bedecked public milled around on the field. The sovereign was present as well. Constantly at his side was the governor-general of Moscow, Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, organizer of the coronation ceremonies.

Nicholas was embarrassed and distressed. Everyone noticed.

——

“18 May, 1896. Until now all has gone smoothly, but today a great sin occurred: the crowd that spent the night on Khodynka Meadow waiting for the food and mugs began to press on the structures and there was a terrible crush, and I must add terribly that about 1,300 people were trampled. Learned of this at 10.30.… The news left a repellent impression. At 12.30 we had lunch, then left for Khodynka, to attend this ‘sad national holiday.’

“From the pavilion we watched the crowd surrounding the stage, where they kept playing a hymn and ‘Be praised.’

“We moved on to Petrovsky [Palace], where we received several deputations at the gates.… I had to give a speech.… Dined with Mama. Went to the ball at Montebello’s.”

Meanwhile, the empress-mother had a very clear understanding of what had caused the Khodynka catastrophe. She had mastered her husband’s principles of rule. A command system (autocracy) functions only when the pyramid is crowned by Fear. With the death of the strong emperor, Fear had begun to wane. And just as an organism declares its illness with a high temperature, so with this terrible catastrophe the system had declared what was for her most ruinous: Fear had waned. Nicholas was a weak tsar.

His mother decided that Fear must return. The punishment must be harsh. Was Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, her husband’s own brother, guilty? All the better. It was he who must be punished as an example. Then Fear would return.

She demanded the immediate creation of a commission of inquiry and punishment for the guilty parties. Nicholas agreed. One other thing she demanded: the cancellation of all entertainments, including the evening ball being given by the French Ambassador Montebello.

This is the conversation concealed in his note “Dined with Mama.”

“We left Mama’s.”

For the first time, Alix took a stand against his mother. She would not allow the husband of her beloved sister to be fed to the wolves. She would not allow the entertainments canceled. Sergei Alexandrovich was right: everything should go on as if nothing had happened. A coronation occurs once in a lifetime, the ball must take
place. (In the depths of her soul she tried to drive out this new, bloody presentiment: first a wedding in the wake of a funeral, now these corpses on Khodynka Meadow. She hoped that the ball and the music and these triumphs would wipe them from her memory.) And again Nicholas consented.

“Went to the ball at Montebello’s.”

Yes, to the horror of the new emperor’s friends, Nicholas and Alix danced at this ball.

As before, constantly at Nicholas’s side was Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich: Moscow had already dubbed him the Duke of Khodynka.

Then, on the following days:

“19 May. At 2 went with Alix to Old St. Catherine’s Hospital and toured all the barracks and wards where the unlucky victims from yesterday lay….

“20 May.… At 3 went with Alix to St. Mary’s Hospital, where we saw the second largest group of injured.”

He contributed generously for the victims. But the country noticed only one thing: “Went to the ball at Montebello’s.” His mother had been right.

There is a concept: a tsarlike nature is the sum of qualities that produces the impression of a powerful will. Nicholas did not possess those qualities. “Irresolute compassion,” “paralysis of will”—this is what some said about him. Others objected: he was crafty. In actual fact, he was stubborn. His tragedy was that, although he was stubborn, he was also unable to say a clear no to a petitioner’s face. He was too delicate and well bred to be crudely determinate. He preferred silence to rejection, and as a rule the petitioner took his silence for consent. Nicholas was merely waiting for someone to turn up with his point of view.

When he did, then Nicholas immediately made his decision. As a consequence, the first petitioner, who had taken silence for agreement, cursed the sovereign’s perfidy and spinelessness. That is precisely what happened with Kschessinska. When his mother and the minister crossed the ballerina’s name off the coronation program, he held his tongue—he could not insult his mother. But he waited. When his Uncle Vladimir came to intercede for Mathilde, Nicholas agreed on the spot.

It was the same with Khodynka. He was the one, understanding Alix’s state, who decided to go on with the celebration, but he did not have the nerve to oppose his mother. Then, as if yielding to the demands of Sergei Alexandrovich.… But the legend about his spinelessness had been created, and it would run through his entire
life. From the very beginning, his image was merged with an “un-tsarlike nature.”

He appointed a commission of inquiry, headed by Count Pahlen, the dowager empress’s protégé. At this point, however, a counterblow followed. Vladimir and Paul, the tsar’s uncles, announced that they would quit the court immediately if Sergei Alexandrovich suffered as a result of the investigation.

It was a risk-free ultimatum. They knew they would not have to back down. Alix stood behind them.

Delicate Nicky was nodding tirelessly in opposite directions, trying to reconcile everyone: Pahlen’s report disappeared into the bowels of the archives. But the Moscow police chief, Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich’s man, was dismissed. And to his mother’s horror, Nicholas set off for the estate of the Duke of Khodynka—Ilinskoe.

He had not wanted to be tsar, he had not wanted to distress his mother, he had not wanted anyone to be killed, he had not wanted Alix to be sad. Yet all those things had come to pass. That was what it meant to be tsar.

Even now, outside Moscow, that broad
allée
with centuries-old trees leading up to the famous estate Ilinskoe is there. The plane trees, a hundred years old then, still stand in the park, as does the ancient church.