CHAPTER XXXII.
THE RED TERROR.
Meanwhile a reform measure which subsequently became known as "theconstitution of Loris-Melikoff" had been framed and submitted to theCzar by the Minister of the Interior. The project called for theconvocation of a semi-representative assembly to be clothed withconsultative powers. It was framed in guarded language, great painshaving been taken to keep out anything like an allusion to parliamentarygovernment.
"But it looks like the States-General," the Czar said to Loris-Melikoff.The resemblance which the measure bore to the opening chapter in thehistory of the French revolution, where representatives of the threeestates are convened in consultative parliament, made a disagreeableimpression on him. Still, the project was ingeniously worded as ameasure tending to "enhance the confidence of the monarch in his loyalsubjects"; so, upon a closer reading, the Czar warmed to it, andreturned the draft to Loris-Melikoff with his hearty approval. This tookplace at 12 o'clock on Sunday, March 13, 1881, one day after the searchat the cheese store. It was decided to have the document read before thecabinet on Wednesday, after which it was to be published over theimperial signature in the _Official Messenger_.
The Czar was dressed in the uniform of the Sappers of the Guards, whosereview he was about to attend at the Michail Riding Schools.
"I pray your Majesty to forego the trip," Loris-Melikoff said,solicitously.
The Czar smiled. Princess Dolgoruki had made a similar request, and byaccentuating his danger they both only succeeded in challenging hiscourage. He felt as if in the light of their appeal staying at homewould mean hiding. Instead of pleading with him for cautionLoris-Melikoff should have made an effort to secure a suspension ofhostilities in the enemy's camp. Had the revolutionists been aware ofwhat was coming a truce on their part would have been assured. And then,little as the project to be divulged resembled a constitution in thewestern sense of the word, it was yet the first approach torepresentative legislation in the history of modern Russia. TheNihilists were pledged to abandon their Terror the moment free speechhad been granted, and although no reference to questions of thischaracter was made in the "constitution," certain liberties in thatdirection might have followed as a matter of course, as an offspring ofthe new spirit which the measure was expected to inaugurate. Adistinguished revolutionary writer has pointed out how easy it wouldhave been for Loris-Melikoff to bring his expectations to the knowledgeof the Executive Committee of the Nihilists by setting a rumour on footamong the professional and intellectual classes, many of whoserepresentatives, as the Vice-Emperor knew but too well, were in touchwith the central organization of the Will of the People. Perhaps thismethod of communicating with the revolutionists had not occurred toLoris-Melikoff; perhaps the iron-clad secrecy that enclosed his projectwas a necessary protection against the enemies of reform at court.However it may have been, neither the revolutionists nor their liberalallies had any inkling as to the document about to be published in the_Official Messenger_. Instead, they saw the police and the gendarmeriecontinuing their riot of administrative violence; instead, they heard ofan order by virtue of which a number of revolutionists who had servedtheir term within prison walls at Kara, Siberia, and been admitted topartial freedom in the penal colony outside, had suddenly been put inirons and thrown back into their cells; whereupon some of them hadcommitted suicide rather than return to the tortures of their formerlife. All of which had added gall to the bitterness of therevolutionists at large and whetted their distrust of the "craftyArmenian," as they called Loris-Melikoff.
* * * * *
The Czar's favourite coachman, a stalwart, handsome fellow, with a thickblond beard and clear blue eyes, sat on the box of the closed imperialcarriage, waiting in the vast courtyard of the Winter Palace. An escortof six lusty Cossacks, two gendarme officers and one of the severalchiefs of police of the capital held themselves in readiness near by,the Cossacks on their mounts, the other three in their open sleighs.Presently a great door flew open and the Emperor appeared, accompaniedby an adjutant and a sergeant of the page corps. He wore a militarycape-cloak and a helmet. While the page held the carriage door open, theCzar said to the coachman:
"By Songsters' Bridge!"
This was not his habitual route to the Riding Schools. Not that he wasaware of the suspicions which the cheese shop on Little Garden Streethad aroused. He had not the least idea of the existence of such a shop.He had decided on the new route merely as a matter of generalprecaution, in case there was a mine somewhere. As to pistol shots hewas sufficiently screened by the walls of his carriage as well as by thebodies of his cossacks and their horses.
That calm feeling of reverent affection with which the averageEnglishman hails his sovereign is unknown in Russia. But whether withreverence or mute imprecations, the coach of a Czar disseminates thrillsof fright as it proceeds. The cavalcade of horsemen and sleighs, withthe great lacquered carriage in the centre, was sailing and gallopingalong like a grim alien force, diffusing an atmosphere of terror. Tothose who saw it approaching the fiery cossacks on their fiery horseslooked like a ferocious band of invaders, their every fibre spoiling forviolence, rushing onward on an errand of conquest and bloody reckoning.
It was a cloudy day. The streets were covered with discoloured, brownishsnow; the snow on the roofs, window-sills, cornices, gate-posts, was ofimmaculate whiteness, apparently devoid of weight, smooth and neat, asthough trimmed by some instrument. There were few people along the routefollowed by the little procession and most of these were in their Sundayclothes. Now a civilian snatched off his cap spasmodically, now asoldier drew himself up with all his might, as though trying to lifthimself off his feet. Here and there a drunken citizen was staggeringalong. Every person the carriage passed was scrutinised by every memberof the escort, by the cossacks as well as by the chief of police and thegendarme officers. The Riding Schools were soon reached.
The Emperor left the building less than an hour later. He wasaccompanied by Grand Duke Michail, his brother, the two going to theMichail Palace, where they were to have lunch with the Czar's niece.
Sophia, the ex-governor's daughter, was watching the imperial carriagefrom a point of vantage. Presently she turned into a neighbouringstreet, and passing a fair-complexioned young man in a dark overcoat,who held a white package in his hand, she raised her handkerchief to hernose. The young man then hurried away toward Catharine Canal. Threeother men, one of them a gigantic looking fellow, stood at so manydifferent points, and at sight of Sophia with her handkerchief to hernose, they all started in the same direction as the first man, while theyoung woman walked over to the Neva Prospect from which she crossed abridge to the opposite side of Catharine Canal.
It was half past two when the imperial carriage, surrounded by the sixcossacks and followed by the gendarme officers and the chief of police,set out on their homebound journey. The handsome coachman let out hishorses. The group was scudding along at top speed. The chief of policestood up in his sleigh, one of his gloved hands on the shoulder of hisdriver, as he strained his eyes now to the right now to the left, afterthe manner of the human figure on the face of a certain kind of clocks.The carriage turned to the right, passing a detachment of marines whosaluted the Czar by presenting arms. The carriage was now on one of thebanks of the Catharine Canal, an iron railing to the right, a row ofbuildings to the left. An employe of a horse-car company, who waslevelling off a ridge of caked snow at this moment, hastily rested hiscrowbar against the iron railing and bared his head. Some distance infront of him a young man in a dark overcoat, and with a white packagein his hand, was trudging along the canal side of the street. He waspassed and left in the rear by a man in the uniform of a hospital nurseof the guards. On the sidewalk to the left of the Czar, another man,also in military uniform, was moving rapidly along, while from theopposite direction, in the middle of the snow-covered street, came a boypulling a little sled with a basket of meat on it. Sophia was looking onfrom the other side of the canal.
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Colonel Dvorzhitzky (the chief of police) was scanning the sidewalk tothe left, when a terrific crash went up from under the Czar's carriage.It was as if a mass of deafening sound had lain dormant there, in theform of a vast closed fan, and the fan had suddenly flown open. Thecolonel's horses reared violently, hurling him over the shoulder of hiscoachman. While he was surveying the left side of the street, theemploye of the tramway company and several military people, coming upalongside the railing, had seen the young man in the dark overcoat lifthis white package and throw it under the Czar's carriage. The carriagecame to a sudden halt amid a cloud of smoke and snow dust. A second ortwo passed before any of them could realise what it all meant. The youngman turned about and broke into a run.
"Catch him! Hold him!" the pedestrians shrieked frantically, dashingafter the running man.
He had reached a point some thirty feet back of the imperial carriagewhen he was hemmed in. One of the cossacks and the boy lay in the snowshrieking. One of the rear corners of the carriage was badly shattered.The rest of it was uninjured, but during the first minute or two itsdoors remained closed, so that the bystanders could not tell whetherthe Czar was hurt or not. Then the chief of police rushed up to thevehicle and flung the right door open. The Czar was unhurt, but ghastlypale. He sat bending slightly forward, his feet on the bearskin coveringthe floor, a gilt ash receiver on a shelf in front of him.
"The guilty man has been caught, your Imperial Majesty!" ColonelDvorzhitzky burst out.
"Has he?" the Emperor asked, in intense agitation.
"He has, your Imperial Majesty. They are holding him. May I offer you tofinish the journey in my sleigh?"
"Yes, but I first want to see the prisoner."
Pervaded by the conviction that another plot on his life had failed, theCzar stepped out of the carriage, and accompanied by a group ofofficers, some from his escort and others from among the passers-by, hecrossed over to the sidewalk that ran along the canal railing, erect andmajestic as usual, but extremely pale with excitement, and then turningto the right he walked toward where a group of uniformed men wereholding a fair-complexioned beardless young fellow against the railing.People, mostly in military uniforms, came running from every direction.
Somebody asked: "How is the Emperor?"
"Thank God," answered the Czar, "I have escaped, but----" and he pointedat the wounded cossack and boy.
"It may be too soon to thank God," said the prisoner.
"Is this the man who did it?" the Czar asked, advancing toward him. "Whoare you?"
"My name is Glazoff."
The Czar turned back. He had made a few steps, when a man who stood nomore than three feet from him raised a white object high over his headand dashed it to the ground, between the Emperor and himself.
There was another explosion, still more violent and deafening than thefirst. The air was a turmoil of smoke, snow-dust and shreds of uniforms,concealing everything else from view. Sophia hurried away.
More than half a minute later, when the chaos had partly cleared away,the Czar was seen in a sitting posture on the snow-covered sidewalk,leaning against the railing, his large oval head bare, his cape-cloakgone. He was breathing hard. His face was in blood, the flesh of hisbared legs lacerated, the blood gushing from them over the snow. A heapof singed, smoking tatters nearby was all that had been left of hiscloak.
With cries of horror and of overpowering pity the bystanders rushedforward. Among them was a man with a bomb under his coat like the twowhich had just exploded. He was one of the four men who had shiftedtheir posts when they saw Sophia raising her handkerchief to her nose.Had the second bomb failed to do its bloody work, this Terrorist wouldhave thrown his missile when the imperial carriage came by his corner.As he beheld the Czar on the ground and bleeding, however, heinstinctively flung himself forward to offer help to the suffering man.
At sight of the prostrated Czar the men who held the author of the firstexplosion, began to shower blows on him.
"Don't," he begged them, shielding his head and face. "I meant the goodof the people."
Two yards from the Czar lay bleeding the unconscious figure of acivilian. Further away were several other prostrated men, in all sortsof uniforms.
"Help!" the Czar uttered in a faint voice.
Somebody handed him a handkerchief, which he put to his face, muttering"Cold, cold." Several of the marines who had saluted him a few minutesago and two guardsmen placed him on Colonel Dvorzhitzky's sleigh.
When Grand Duke Michail appeared on the scene he found his brotherrapidly sinking.
"Sasha,[C] do you hear me?" he asked him, with tears in his eyes.
[C] Diminutive of Alexander.
The bystanders, who had never before heard their Czar addressed in theform of affectionate familiarity, were thrilled with a feeling ofheart-tearing pity and of the most fervent devotion. Most of them hadsobs in their throats.
"Yes," the Czar answered faintly.
"How do you feel, Sasha?"
"To the Palace--quick," the Czar whispered. And upon hearing somebody'ssuggestion that he be taken to the nearest house for immediate relief,he uttered:
"Bear me to the palace--there--die----."
He reclined between two cossacks, with a gendarme officer facing him andsupporting his legs. This is the way he returned home. Pedestrians methim with gestures of horrified perplexity and acute commiseration now.
The crowd at one corner of Catharine Canal was a babel of excitement andviolence. In their mad rush for the man who threw the second bomb, thebystanders were accusing each other, grabbing at each other,quarrelling, fighting. As Nihilists were for the most part people ofeducation, every man who looked college-bred was in danger of his life.Among those who were beaten to a pulp in this wild melee were twopolitical spies who had the appearance of university students. A shoutwent up that the thrower of the fatal bomb had vaulted over the fence ofthe Michail gardens nearby, and then the mob broke down part of thatfence, and ruined the gardens in a wild but vain search for theTerrorist. People were seized and hustled off to the station houses bythe hundred.
The heir apparent, a fair-complexioned Hercules, was on his way to theWinter Palace surrounded by a strong escort of mounted men. It was thefirst time he had appeared in the streets so accompanied. The cluster ofhorsemen and sleighs that had left the palace three hours before neverreturned; this one was coming in its place; but the effect of grimdetachment, of fierce challenge was the same.
* * * * *
An hour had elapsed. The flag over the Winter Palace which denotesImperial presence was put at half-mast. Church bells were tolling thedeath of Alexander II. and the accession of Alexander III.
The new Czar was by his father's bedside. He was even more powerfullybuilt than he, but he lacked his grace and the light of his intelligenteyes--a physical giant with a look of obtuse honesty on a fair, beardedround face. An English diplomatist who understood him well has said that"he had a mind not only commonplace, but incapable of receiving newideas." When he saw his father breathe his last, he exclaimed: "This iswhat we have come to!"--a celebrated ejaculation which an archbishoputtered at the funeral of Peter the Great in 1725. This was his firstutterance as Emperor of Russia. Its puerile lack of originality wascharacteristic of the man.
Princess Dolgoruki fainted, and she had no sooner been brought to thanthe packing of her trunks was ordered by the sons of her dead husband.
The palace was surrounded by a strong cordon of cossacks. Palace Squarewas thronged, the neighbouring streets were tremulous with subduedexcitement. Some people were sincerely overcome with grief and horror;others were struggling to conceal their exultation. There were such aswept and cursed the Nihilists by way of displaying their own loyalty,and there were such as burst into tears from the sheer solemnity andnervousness of the moment. But the great predominating feeling thatpervaded these crowds, eclipsing every other sentiment or thought, wascuriosity. "What is going to happen next?"--this w
as the question thatwas uppermost in the minds of these people in their present fever ofexcitement. Had a republic been proclaimed with the Executive Committeeof the Nihilists as a provisional government, they would have sworntheir allegiance to the bomb-throwers as readily as they did, on themorrow, to the son of the assassinated Emperor. Had the Terroristssucceeded, the same bearded bishops who blessed and sounded the praisesof the new Czar would have blessed and sounded the praises of those whohad killed his father.
* * * * *
Pavel was in a suburb of the capital, when he first heard the melancholytolling of the church bells.
"What's the matter?" he asked an elderly man who was walking with asleigh-load of bricks, the reins in his hands.
"They say our little father, the Czar, has been killed," the otheranswered, making the sign of the cross with his free hand. "People saythe Czarowitz is going to cut down the term of military service. Is ittrue, sir?"
"What is true?" Pavel asked. He was literally dazed with excitement.
"A son of mine is in the army, sir," the other explained reverently. "SoI wonder if the new Czar will be easier on the soldiers, sir."
Pavel hailed the first hackman he came across. He was burning to knowthe details of the assassination and to tell Clara that the first man heaccosted on the great news of the hour had shown indifference to thedeath of the monarch.
When his sleigh reached the Neva Prospect, he saw the new Czar,surrounded by a cohort of officers in dazzling uniform, passing alongthe thoroughfare. The crowds were greeting him with wild cheers. Theycheered their own emotions at sight of the man whose father had come toso tragic a death, and they cheered their own servility to the master ofthe situation.
These shouts filled Pavel with a mixed sense of defeat and triumph. Thegloomier feeling predominated. The world looked as usual. It did notlook as if this cheering, servile, stolid mob would ever rise againstanything.
* * * * *
That evening placards bearing the name of the Executive Committeeappeared on the walls of public buildings. They announced the death ofAlexander II. and admonished his successor to adopt a liberal policy.