It was a tragedy for the world that Alexander III died in 1894, when he was barely fifty. Had he lived for twenty or thirty years longer, his toughness, ability and realism might have saved Russia
from the calamities that befell her during the first two decades of this century. Instead, the unwieldy Empire passed
to his twenty-six year old son, the amiable but weak Nicholas II. Compared with the big, forceful men who sat on the
Throne of Russia before him, Nicholas looked almost like a child: a frail, gentle figure with "a caressing expression" in
his eyes and a soft, low-pitched voice. To everyone with whom he had dealings, whether they were his subjects, his
Royal relations or the
ambassadors accredited to him, he was kind and considerate, but distant. As his cousin, Queen
Marie of Roumania, wrote of him: "He seemed to live in a sort of Imperial mist".
Had Nicholas been married to a friendly and warm-hearted Princess like his mother, all might have been well with
him; but the Empress Alexandra was even more withdrawn from the world than he was. Her fragile beauty was spoilt
by her tight lips and the coldness of her eyes: she always looked miserable some thought. She was stiff, haughty, for
ever on the defensive. This was due in part to shyness; but also to a sense of being superior to all other mortals,
which had little or nothing to do with the fact that she was Royal, or an Empress; for the grandest of her Royal
relations found her just as haughty and aloof as any of her subjects. Queen Marie of Roumania could remember " the
pinched, unwilling, patronizing smile with which she received all you said as if it were not worth while answering". To
make matters worse, she spoke in a whisper.
For most of her husband's reign, the Empress Alexandra refused to appear in public or to perform any of the duties of
an Empress. Her behavior can to a certain extent be explained by her desperate anxiety over her only son, the
Tsarevitch Alexis, who was frequently in danger of death and very often in agony owing to the haemophilia which he
had inherited from her side of the family. It was her belief that the so-called "holy man" could cure Alexis which led
to her friendship with Rasputin. But even before Alexis was born, she had virtually become a recluse. Such was the
Tsar's devotion to her and his own reserve that it was all too easy for him to stay with her in her seclusion. Father,
mother and children became entirely self-contained; they led a quiet, rather dull family life in a plainly-furnished
corner of one of the vast and glittering Imperial palaces. St. Petersburg society was, to all intents and purposes,
without an Emperor and Empress. The most influential section of the community came to regard the Imperial couple
with indifference, or even resentment.
Nicholas II cannot be fitted into the pattern of autocratic Tsars alternating with liberal tsars; for he was neither
autocratic nor liberal. Or rather,
he vacillated between liberalism and autocracy; at one moment he called the Duma, at another he tried to rule as a
despot. While he vacillated, Russia drifted to disaster. The events of his reign are all too well-known. There was the
disastrous war with Japan, followed by a period of near-anarchy. Then came the rise of Stolypin, the first strong man
Russia had seen since the death of Alexander III. With Stolypin in control, there was a miraculous recovery; but then
he was murdered by a Nihilist during a gala performance in the theatre in Kiev.
Without Stolypin, the Empire began once again to drift. Then came 1914, when Russia went to war for the cause of
Pan-Slavism; and in so doing set all Europe aflame. The country had only just recovered from the Japanese war; it
should have been obvious to every thinking Russian that another war at this juncture would prove fatal. Alexander III,
had he been alive, would almost certainly have realised this; and while sympathizing with Pan-Slavism, he would
have kept the chauvinists of his country under control. But Nicholas hesitated between the advice of his pacific
Foreign Minister, Sazonoff, and that of Sukhomlinoff, his chauvinistic Minister for War. He kept ordering mobilization
and then cancelling it; until finally, when he ordered mobilization yet again, the War Office cut his telephone wire as
to prevent him from countermanding the order until it was too late.
During the war, the Tsar spent as much time as he could with his troops. In the easy atmosphere of the officers'
mess, Nicholas and his subjects were at last able to get to know each other; just as the supporters of Charles I of
England--a monarch to whom Nicholas is frequently compared--only really got to know their King when he was
their companion in arms. But it was too late. Soon, everything was out of control, and Russia was overwhelmed by the
forces of revolution. The Tsar abdicated; the well-meaning but irresponsible Kerensky was ousted by the men who
had arrived in a sealed train, carrying the plague bacillus of Communism with them. The Emperor, the Empress and
their children were made prisoners, and moved from place to place; a journey which ended in the cellar at
Ekaterinburg. That hideous murder of a father and mother, four young girls and a sick boy on a July night in 1918 was
far from being the worst of the crimes committed in the name of Communism, either before or since; yet, with
possible exception of Katyn, it is the one which has caused the most horror and disgust.
Another one of my high school essays: