disgusting to see the way that young man twisted this way and that like a fish hanging from a pole and slapping the ground! Even the officials cried out in shock! Even I shut my eyes, so painful was it to see Our Poet stretched between life and death! It was only when the idiot executioner in his red bonnet and two others hoisted desperately on the rope, yanking Kalyayev completely up into the air, that they finished the job, either breaking his neck or choking him, I couldn’t tell which. Radi boga, even I had never been so mean, even I had always done a better job of killing someone.
And though our beloved Kalyayev met an early end, our young Revolution, its roots fed by his blood, was bursting with violent life! And I’ll shout it again and again, “Da zdravstvuet revolutsiya!”
Chapter 25 ELLA
Yes, the revolution took great hold that year of 1905 and caused such turmoil that I thought we would all be washed away. On top of this, the war in Manchuria continued so poorly, and while I could not busy myself with the doings of the Empire, I did have my beloved Moscow and countless wounded and abandoned who were in need of my attention. In essence, I had begun my withdrawal from the magnificent world where fate had cast me, and it was sometime during these months that my great scheme took birth and grew, it seemed, by the day if not the moment.
I accomplished many things, and one of the first things I did was to gather as many of Sergei’s diaries and letters and papers as I could. I myself read only a handful or two of pages, but it was more than I could bear, and so that history would never know the beasts that tore at the poor man’s soul, I took the papers I had gathered and tossed them in the tiled stove in my chamber, burning Sergei’s confessions completely and absolutely. With that accomplished, I turned away from the pain of the past and looked forward to the future.
Too, I prayed for many months for poor Kalyayev’s soul, and in my heart I found forgiveness for his deed, just as I prayed he found forgiveness for any of my sins upon him. I never visited him a second time, but if I had I would have said to him that I told virtually no one of our conversation. My visit to him was reported everywhere, but the thought that I could have betrayed his spiritual confidence was and still is repugnant to me. The only thing I can imagine is that we were secretly listened upon, for someone quite apart from me spread our conversation.
The day my husband was killed was the day I turned away from animal meats and began to wear black garment and avoid festivities of any sort. It was a completely natural step, one that I took without even thinking. From then on, as if the decision had been made for me, I did not even partake of a glass of champagne at a christening and rarely appeared in public, and for these offenses society widely criticized me. But it made no matter what the tongues said, just more petty dishrags. Fortunately, Nicky gave me delicate kindness by permitting me to remain in the Nikolaevski Palace, and that I could live in that house was an intense comfort, and I found great strength and peace being near St. Aleksei’s relics and, of course, near my husband who had been laid to rest in a peaceful chapel of the Chudov. I made a request to Nicky, which was granted, to have the historical furniture taken out of my rooms and stored away with the catalogue kept in the Kremlin, so that after my death all would be put back as it was. With the luxurious appointments removed, I had my chambers painted white and the walls hung with icons, and there were those who with dismiss said my rooms quite resembled a nun’s cell. But I found it full of tranquillity. In addition, I gathered together some tattered pieces of Sergei’s clothing that he had worn on his last day, and I tucked them inside a large hollow cross, which I placed in a corner of my room. This, too, brought me great comfort.
The first step into my scheme was a small one, but that step led to a larger one and to yet another larger after that. That autumn I took a house beyond the walls of the Kremlin, and it was there that I organized a hospital for fifteen wounded soldiers. It was incredibly exciting, I must admit, for this was the first time I had ever been able to do such a thing, organize something beyond my official role without Red Cross or government participation, let alone Sergei’s heavy oversight. Virtually every decision was of my own, and I oversaw each and every detail, not as a Grand Duchess but both as an administrator and nurse. I spent nearly every day there, for it was among the suffering of these simple men that I was able to forget my own grief and, too, learn a new path. I so enjoyed reading to them and writing their letters for them and helping with their meals. They were my big babies.
However, that year was the most disgraceful of times, with many wondering why we were being reprimanded so by God-was it for the banishment of the Jews, for which I had long feared our punishment? Whatever the cause, in summer the war with Japan finally came to an end, albeit disastrously, and to add to our woes our shameful peace sparked such things as the mutiny on the battleship Potemkin. Just a nightmare for our poor Russia, there were so many assassinations, including that of Count Shuvalov, the military governor of the city, who had reached out to me that very day of Sergei’s death-the revolutionaries likewise extinguished him in a most bloody manner. Too, all across the countryside the peasants burned manor house after manor house and killed any number of landlord. It was all a great sin, perpetuated by the revolutionaries who told them that the Emperor himself had granted permission to do such, that is, take the land back from their greedy masters. What was happening to Russia? What disorganization, what disintegration, just like a piece of clothing that was beginning to rip and tear along the seams and fall completely open. Yes, it was the pure revolution.
The busier I kept the more at peace I felt, and yet late that September things took a particularly bad turn in Moscow. It seemed the entire city went out on strike, and the post, telegraph, telephone, and railroad, too, were all shut down. All the trams came to a halt and the bakeries as well, and also to my shock the ballet companies refused to work. Indeed, stranded as we were in the Nikolaevski Palace, the children and I were entirely cut off and abandoned from the outside world, guarded by those whose loyalty was at best dubious. Even the electrical workers walked away, so the entire city was left in dark, only in the distance could one see the glow of buildings that had been set afire. And while the Kremlin had its own power station, we feared turning on lights, so we too sat by oil lamp in the eve, the lamps themselves hidden from the windows-and to this several of my maids said it was all for the best, particularly for the children, as they had heard from someone of authority that reading by unnatural illumination was most poor for the eyes, damaging even. Then late one day came reports that the Kremlin was about to be assaulted and the children taken as hostages, and it was only then that I acquiesced and gave my permission for all the Kremlin gates to be shut and locked. Admittance was by special pass only. Another report claimed that the revolutionaries ’ plan was to catch the new Governor-General of Moscow and kill him, then kill countless other authorities throughout the city and seize the Kremlin along with the Arsenal and, in the hope that the troops would join, hold Moscow, a month later go to Tsarskoye and, of course, the horrible end was only too clear.
One beautiful afternoon toward the end of October we heard a particularly violent ruckus beyond the fortress walls. Street fighting, I could tell from the din, had broken out all over, for one could discern from every direction shouting and cries, any number of horses’ hooves, and the crack after crack of the Cossack whip. Gunfire as well. But I could not and would not be stuck here in the Kremlin, for I had duty, I had made promise.
Glancing out my window, I said, “I am needed at my hospital-there is to be an operation, an amputation, and I must be there to assist.”
“But, Your Highness, it’s far too dangerous,” gasped Countess Olsuvieva, my Grande Maitresse, “Your carriage would be attacked the moment you were out the gate!”
“Then I’ll go on foot.”
“You mustn’t, Your Highness. Please, I beg you! There’s chaos everywhere. Even if you were to take a guard, your safety could not be guaranteed.”
“No, I won’t take a single person-that also would attract too much attention. I’ll change into something simple and go alone.”
“But it will be night soon!”
I had to admit that since the death of my dear one my reasoning had not been entirely logical, and yet here I knew a different kind of truth, certainly a more important one, and I said, “The soldier who needs my help doesn’t care in the least whether it’s day or night, dangerous or not, and neither do I. All that matters is that his leg is removed soonest so that the gangrene doesn’t spread further.”
My countess could not hide her disapproval, and she obeyed me only with the greatest hesitation, reluctantly helping me rid myself of all my jewelry, right down to and including my rings. Once I had put on an insignificant
