of his reign will offer us ample opportunity of gaining ntra a view of this complex personality. ces t i As indicated above, Nicholas II ascended the throne unexpectedly in 1894. His simple, not to say trivial, nati mode of life as heir-apparent had won him the repumple tation of liberalism. In 1895 the Zemstvos presented nts addresses with respectful references to possible particiatte pation in the Government by representatives of the as people. Following the advice of his father's principal vote counsellor, Constantine Pobedonostsev, the young Tsar ical answered that these 'senseless aspirations' ought to be nan left alone. These words, however, could only be interpreted as a declaration of a severe and determined policy. The future showed that such a policy was neither congenial to, nor possible for, a man of the Tsar's character. As long as the inertia of the preceding reign was continued no real break in policy occurred. We must look for minor matters to form a judgment. We are met almost at once by a tragic paradox: an autocrat without a determined will, an easy prey of the influences at work in his most intimate circle of friends and relatives. tter W& of i E From the following letter we see that the Tsar was well aware of the weakness of his own character. It is written on the spur of the moment to his uncle the Grand Duke Vladimir, then in command of the regiments of the Guards, and deals with the nomination of a new commander to one of the Guards' corps. The Tsar, after having chosen his own nominee, accepted the nomination of the Grand Duke's candidate, but a few moments later he reversed his decision and wrote: In the entire incident it is my kindness which is at fault, yes, I insist on it, my stupid kindness. In order to escape a quarrel, to avoid spoiling family relations, I constantly give in and end by being a fool, without will or character. Now I not only beg of you but command you to fulfil my former will. If vacillation can so easily be acknowledged in a matter where the authority of the throne was never questioned, we can imagine what pains the Tsar took to come to a decision, and if necessary to enforce it, in political matters, where not only Court intrigue but the incalculable forces of historical development were at work. * Krasnyi Archiv,' vol. XVII, p. 220. The strong sense of responsibility apparent in the Tsar, combined with his fatalistic ideas, is the dominant feature of his character. A few striking examples may be quoted. The Russo-Japanese war was the first lesson on an international scale. Started much against the will of the Tsar, it soon developed into a series of unfortunate battles ending in the disaster of the entire fleet at Tsushima. Internal troubles added to the difficulty of the situation, and peace seemed the only possible solution. The Tsar followed the advice of Count Witte and started negotiations for peace. He was, however, well aware that peace after an unsuccessful campaign could but strike a serious blow at his popularity. When peace terms were actually agreed upon, he had nothing but expressions of fatalism to enter in his diary. He notes on Aug. 18, 1905: 'It is only to-day that I begin to get accustomed to the idea that peace will be signed and that it is probably to the good, because it must be thus.' The real troubles were, however, only beginning. The difficulties shifted from international relations to internal discontent. Revolution was approaching, a revolution with all that inevitable déchaînement des mauvaises passions which flooded the years 1917 and 1918 with blood. Two courses were open: either to try to fight the issue to the end and to quell discontent by military force, or to give way and grant political reforms. This naturally implied the abandonment of the autocratic principle and the inauguration of a new political era. Two parties formed at Court. The Tsar stood helpless between these two competing influences. At last he gave in to the party headed paradoxically enough by the Grand Duke Nicholas and inspired by Count Witte. The desired constitution was accorded. What his feelings were when he made this concession is a matter of surmise. It seems certain that he regarded it as a necessity and he hoped that it would satisfy the country. 'I signed' (he wrote in his diary) 'the manifesto at 5 o'clock. After such a day my head became dizzy and my thoughts confused. God help us subdue Russia.' This latter desire was sincere, for in the meantime an event had happened which completely overshadowed everything else and gave a colour to the entire period. A son and heir was born to the Tsar on July 30, 1904. Since that date one thought, and one thought only, is uppermost in the Sovereign's mind and that of his immediate family: to preserve the throne and its authority unaltered and to act in a manner that would lighten the burden of government for his son. To the Tsar autocracy seemed equivalent to the welfare of Russia, and a happy Russia could only exist under an autocrat. Hence a new cause of struggle and a new reason for suspicion and for a charge of duplicity. The granting of the constitution accepted in such a tragic manner radically changed the Tsar's feelings towards his advisers. General Kouropatkine's private diary gives us an idea of what a high official thought. ... "Yesterday, no, the day before, I received the Manifesto of the 17th of October. Constitutional government is inaugurated. The autocratic power is limited. The plans of the revolutionaries are thus accomplished. Will they be satisfied with the result or will one tidal wave coming after the other rise higher and higher and shatter the very foundations of Russia? God forbid. . . . The poor Emperor. What must he not have suffered during these days! If one reflects that had it not been for such counsellors as pr. Mestchersky, Pobedonostsev, Goremykine, Sipiagine, Pleve, Bobrikov, Bezobrazov, and chiefly Serge Alexandrovich and Nicholas Nicholaevich, he would himself have desired freedom for his people. If only he could have been persuaded that the people would be happier with this freedom. His counsellors persuaded him that any shadow of freedom was a misfortune. . . that as an autocrat anointed by God he could not err. He was persuaded by those evil-minded misanthropes Nicholas Nicholaevich and Serge that he was not a man but a superman" unable to err. Serge Witte is triumphing. To avenge oneself so completely did not seem to him feasible. In his library he may say, rubbing his hands, that by signing the shameful peace of Portsmouth he forced the Emperor to sign the limitation of his autocracy.' 66 Can we wonder that in an atmosphere filled with personal grievances and intrigues the fate of the country was forgotten? Can we wonder that the Tsar, unable to cope with events, was entirely lost amidst such opposing currents and sought advice and comfort from others to whom politics were abhorrent, but who had at 'Krasnyi Archiv,' vol. vII, p. 55. * least the advantage of being disinterested? Fate decided, however, that they should also have a baneful influence. Relations tinged with mutual distrust arose between the Tsar and the newly created Duma. The Duma had no political experience and was unable to rouse the country to aspire to better things; the Sovereign was not sufficiently broad-minded to guide the new political machine. Anxious for the welfare of his son, he left the good of the country at the mercy of petty intrigues concerning prerogatives and a variety of unimportant questions. There was, however, a short period which seemed to promise a better future. The Tsar had found an adviser in the person of Stolypine, who was able to reinforce the authority of the throne by his energy and tact. One illustration is sufficient to enable us to appreciate the difficulties with which this exceptional man had to struggle. The reorganisation of the naval administration of Russia had been pending for a long time. It was obviously a matter the Duma had a right to discuss. Stolypine had no doubt of this and was prepared to face a political debate even if acrimonious. An unexpected difficulty, however, arose. The Tsar, voicing the opinion of the Court, wrote to Stolypine on April 25, 1909 : 'After my last conversation with you I have thought constantly of the question of the Naval General Staff. Now, after having weighed everything, I have finally decided not to approve the draft bill submitted to me. The necessary expenditure will have to be met from the ten million fund' (a fund which was permanent and beyond the control of the Duma). 'There can be no question as to confidence or no confidence. This is my will. Remember that we live in Russia and not abroad or in Finland, and I therefore do not admit even the thought of anybody's retirement. There will certainly be talk in Petersburg and in Moscow, but hysterical cries will soon quiet down. To you, in conjunction with the Ministers of War and Marine, I entrust the elaboration of the necessary regulations which will dispose of the present uncertainties in regard to military and naval bills. I warn you that I categorically refuse in advance to accept your or anybody else's resignation.' The Court had prevailed upon the Tsar to use his personal authority and to risk a conflict with his most able Minister on a question of prerogative. It is to the credit of the latter that he did not resign but continued his arduous duties. In the Tsar's correspondence with Stolypine we find numerous proofs that the welfare of Russia was his chief concern. I have only one object in view,' he wrote in 1907, the welfare of my country: all petty feelings against individuals disappear when I think of this.' The real difficulty lay in persuading the Tsar to take the right path. But a strong man like Stolypine was bound to win in the end, and in 1910 there were already signs that he had got the upper hand. When two Ministers resigned in that year the Tsar raised no difficulties in appointing Stolypine's nominees. Thus two Ministers,' he writes Sept. 22, 1910, 'having gone during my absence' (he was in Germany taking a cure), Sazonov and the unknown Kasso will fill their places.' He felt he was at least secure in the hands of Stolypine. It was impossible to guess if the latter could have withstood the intrigues of the Court, which dogged his footsteps at every turn until the war brought everything down with a crash. Things might have taken a different turn, but fate decided otherwise. Stolypine fell a victim to his devotion to the throne,* and also to the corrupt and pernicious ways of the police current in Russia. Russia entered the war under unexpectedly favourable conditions. Both politically and diplomatically the position had never been so brilliant. With France and with England as allies she seemed at the zenith of her international position, while the entire people joined whole-heartedly in the conflict. Behind this veil of splendour, however, there were many reasons for apprehension and misgiving. The solution of social problems was in abeyance, the political situation was far from being entirely consolidated, while mutual mistrust of the throne and of the representatives of the country still existed. At a moment when the forces of the country demanded organisation, when the war required the union of all, for a common purpose, these unsolved questions were bound to cause a disastrous reaction on external events. Sooner or later reaction was bound to come to the surface. In such circumstances any political *He was murdered at Kleff in 1917. Vol. 248.-No. 492. |