The Green Book Part 75

CHAPTER L

"DEREVASKI DALOI"

Things had never gone so quietly in St. Petersburg as during those three months preceding the 26th of December. Night noises, public-house gatherings, had ceased entirely. In the kabas, instead of the daily three thousand pots of drink, not more than two hundred were given out.

It is a serious outlook when the Russian people do not drink.

For five-and-twenty days Russia had been without a Regent. What had occurred during those five-and-twenty days?

The vast empire had had two heads and two hearts: one at Warsaw, the other at St. Petersburg. In St. Petersburg, the Viceroy of Warsaw had been proclaimed Czar; in Warsaw, the Grand Duke Nicholas.

Their youngest brother, Michael, was on a visit to Constantine when the news of Alexander's death at Taganrog reached him--two days earlier than it was received at St. Petersburg. A grand gala was going on at the time, which was stopped at once on receipt of the melancholy intelligence. Constantine begged his brother to return instantly to St.

Petersburg and repeat his declaration of renunciation of the succession.

The Grand Duke Michael crossed the deputation sent from St. Petersburg.

At the same time that he reached the capital with his brother's fresh repudiation, Labanoff arrived at Warsaw with doc.u.ments stating that Constantine had been chosen, and containing the oaths of fealty of the army, and the people's address to him bearing a hundred thousand signatures. Every one had been required to affix his signature, on the previous Sunday, on leaving the churches; such as could not write had their hands guided. But Johanna Grudzinska's power was still victorious.

The sealed doc.u.ment bore the inscription, "To His Imperial Majesty."

"I know the contents," said Constantine. "I am to separate from my wife and espouse the imperial throne. Much obliged! This doc.u.ment is not addressed to me; I am no 'Imperial Majesty.' Take it back to those who sent it."

And with seals unbroken he sent back the doc.u.ments.

The Grand Duke Michael's mission met with similar success. The letter of Constantine was addressed to Czar Nicholas. He would not receive it.

Constantine had already been elected; the army had sworn allegiance to him; the people had signed an address; important state papers were being prepared in his name. It was unalterable.

Michael had to return once more to Warsaw and endeavor to move Constantine. This time he met the returning deputation at Dorpat, taking back the bull with seals unbroken.

Thus Russia had no Czar. The republicans said: "All right. If they can't settle with one, let them try two."

Suddenly came news in St. Petersburg that a seditious rising had been detected in the Southern Army.

Now neither party could hesitate any longer. Pestel and ten leaders of battalions were arrested; but this, far from suppressing the insurrection, only hurried it on.

Late in the evening of the 25th of December Nicholas decided to accept the crown. This brought things to a crisis.

The manifesto of his accession was drawn up at two o'clock in the morning, thus could not be made public then and there. On the following morning the regiments were to swear the oath to the new Czar, without knowing what had happened to the one to whom they pledged allegiance but a fortnight before. The conspirators pa.s.sed the night deliberating what should be done.

"All is ready for the war of freedom," said enthusiastic Ryleieff.

"But one thing is wanting," answered Zeneida Ilmarinen; "and that is that the people do not know what freedom is."

"True!" said Ghedimin. "The people do not understand our views. We ought to have begun by teaching them what is freedom."

"We must begin by freeing the people from their tyrants," broke in Jakuskin, "then they will soon learn the meaning of freedom."

War was declared. The conspirators, going back to their regiments, took possession, with their mutinous troops, of the square in front of the Winter Palace in the mist of early morning. Their watchword was "Derevaski daloi" (throw away your touchwood). In ordinary gun practice touchwood was used. Now all hastened to change this for steel and flint.

Then came the cry, "Hurrah, Constantine!" Only Constantine then; and no word of freedom? But that had been provided for. The mutinous soldiers set up the shout, "Long live the Const.i.tution!" They had been made to believe that "Const.i.tucia" _was the wife of Grand Duke Constantine_, and thus waxed enthusiastic for freedom as the Czar's wife.

Freedom itself lay deep, deep under the snow like a buried acorn, needing the rays of the sun to awaken it to vitality. On the morning of his accession, the first day of his rule, the Czar was greeted by the tumult of a revolution. They were the household troops, the crack regiments, that rose against him. Their hurrahs resounded from Czar Peter's Platz to the Winter Palace, which Nicholas had exchanged for the little, quiet, old-fashioned Anikof Palace, where he formerly resided.

Pale with terror, his generals rushed up to tell him of the danger of the rebellion. Nicholas had seen one like it before, five-and-twenty years ago. Then, a little boy, he was sleeping peacefully in his bed, when his mother, suddenly rushing into the room, s.n.a.t.c.hed him up in her arms, and ran the length of the dark apartments crying for help. One of the doors she was pa.s.sing opened, and a pale man emerged from it. From a neighboring room came the sounds of a furious struggle--some one within was fighting for his life. That some one was his father. The pale man, Count Pahlen, tore the mother and her trembling burden away from the scene of terror. This episode Nicholas had never forgotten. He, too, now had a little son, still slumbering in his bed. And he, too, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the child in his arms, dashed with it down the stairs of the palace. But before handing over his son to the soldiers he took his wife into the chapel. There, kneeling side by side, they swore to die in a manner worthy of rulers of the empire. That moment of terror gave the Czarina a palsied movement of the head which she never lost in after-life. Then the Czar, taking his son up in his arms, went out with him into the courtyard. The battalion on guard at the Winter Palace chanced to be of a Finnish regiment. Kalevaines, despised as Tschuds by the Suomalai tribes--they were no Russians--what interest had they in Rurik's empire?

The new Czar, going up to them, his son in his arms, tore open his uniform, and, presenting his bare breast to the bayonets, said:

"If you have cause against me, fire at my defenceless breast!"

And Pushkin was right.

The feeling of humanity is stronger than the thirst for freedom. It protects the serf when the Czar persecutes him, and protects the Czar when persecuted by the serf.

"Fear not. We will protect you!" cried Zeneida's countrymen.

"_Then to you I intrust my child; take care of him. If I fall, he is your future Czar._" And he threw his pale little successor, Alexander II., into the arms of the most heavily oppressed of all his subjects.

He knew the hearts of men. By this action he had turned their weapons from his own bosom upon his a.s.sailants.

That one Finnish battalion defended the Winter Palace from the morning to the evening against the whole revolutionary force.

Nicholas, however, springing on his horse, dashed through the gates, followed by his generals.

In front of the palace surged a dense ma.s.s of the lowest of the low, roaring out _The Song of the Knife_--its harvest-time had come. Riding into their very midst, Nicholas said:

"What are you doing here, dear children? This is no place for you."

The people looked at one another.

"Eh! He is a kind man! He calls us his dear children, and tells us so kindly to go away from here. Let's go home!"

And they dispersed.

Outside the Admiralty he was received by some well-affected battalions.

At their head he marched to the vast Czar Peter's Platz, where was the insurgents' camp. One-half of the square was occupied by them; the other half by the troops loyal to him. Betwixt the opposing armies was the colossal statue on its granite pedestal, with hands outstretched, no one knows whether to command or bless. One party of insurgents stormed the castle on the other side of the frozen Neva; the other pressed on towards the gates of the Winter Palace, Nicholas wandering, meanwhile, undecidedly up and down the great square, weighing on which cast of the die hung the fate of his imperial house and empire. He had first endeavored by every means in his power to avoid the conflict--had sent the most popular leader of the army, General Miloradovics, to parley with the insurgents and move them to submission. A ball had struck him from his horse before he could speak; it was Kakhowsky who had shot him.

The heroic general died in the Czar's arms. Then he had sent the highest Church dignitary of the country, the metropolitan Seraphim, in full canonicals, to parley with his enemies.

What cared they now for priests? Seizing the venerable man by his snow-white beard, they had roared in his ears:

"If you are a priest, read your breviary, and don't meddle to your hurt in military matters!"

The insurgents received unexpected support. The marines and half the grenadier regiments joined them. Their numbers grew and grew; the square echoed with the cry, "Long live the Const.i.tution!"

Then the Czar himself rode up to them. The rebels saw him coming. It was a temptation to them to see him ride up unattended. A cavalry officer galloped up to him, a loaded pistol in his hand.

"What is your business?" the Czar asked, threateningly, as he came near.

There was such a spell in his cold look that the foolhardy man, hiding his face, turned away his head and galloped back.

It was only by force that his followers could tear the Czar away from the scene of revolt.