CHAPTER X.
THE CZAR'S ESCAPE.
On Tuesday, February 17th, at about six o'clock in the evening, Paveland Makar were sauntering through the streets of the Vassili Island.Their conversation languished. While indoors they had had anotherdiscussion of Makar's scheme, a heart-to-heart talk in which Pavelshowed signs of yielding; and now that they were out in the snow-dapplednight they were experiencing that feeling of embarrassment which is theaftermath of sentimental communion between two men. When they reachedthe Neva, Pavel cast a glance across, in the direction of the WinterPalace. The frozen river looked infinitely wider than it was. Dottedwith lamps and crossed by streams of home-bound humanity, it lay vast,gorgeous, uncanny--a white plain animated with mysterious brightness andmysterious motion. The main part of the capital, on the Palace side ofthe Neva, was a world of gloom starred with myriads and myriads oflights, each so distinct that one almost felt tempted to count them; allthis seemingly as far away as the gold-dotted sky overhead. Makar washuddling himself in his grey military cloak, his bare hands looselythrust into its sleeves, looking at nothing. Pavel, his furred coatunbuttoned, gazed across the Neva.
"Come on," the medical student urged, knocking one foot against theother. "It's too cold to be tramping around like this."
"One moment," Pavel responded, impatiently. He had been visiting thispoint at the same hour every day for the past week or two. Makar, whodid not know of it, relapsed into his revery.
Suddenly there came a dull rolling crash. It burst from the other side,and as Pavel and Makar looked across the river they saw that the lightsof the Winter Palace which had been burning a minute ago, were out,leaving a great patch of darkness. The human stream paused. Then came arush of feet on all sides.
"It's in the Palace," Boulatoff whispered; and seizing his companion'shand at his side he pressed it with furious strength.
* * * * *
The next day the newspapers were allowed to state that the previousevening, as the Czar and a royal guest were about to enter the dininghall through one door and the other members of the imperial familythrough another, a terrific explosion had occurred, making a hole in thefloor ten feet long and six wide; that eleven inmates of the guard room,which was directly under the dining hall, were killed and fifty-seveninjured, the Czar's narrow escape having been due to an accidental delayof the dinner. The explosion had shattered a number of windows and blownout the gas, leaving the palace in complete darkness. Traces of animprovised dynamite mine had been discovered in the basement. Threeartisans employed in the palace were arrested, but their innocence wasestablished, while a fourth man, a varnisher named Batushkoff, haddisappeared. Now that Batushkoff was gone the Third Section learned thathe was no other than Stepan Khaltourin, one of the activerevolutionists its agents were looking for.
One week after the explosion the Czar signed a decree which practicallyplaced the government in the hands of a Supreme Executive Commission--abody especially created to cope with the situation and whose head, CountLoris-Melikoff, was invested with all but the powers of a regent. CountMelikoff was neither a Slav nor of noble birth. He was the son of anArmenian merchant. He was a new figure in St. Petersburg, and when hiscarriage passed along the Neva Prospect his swarthy face with itsstriking Oriental features were pointed out with expressions ofperplexity. Although one of the two principal heroes of the late warwith Turkey and recently a governor-general of Kharkoff, he was lookedupon as an upstart. The extraordinary powers so suddenly vested in himtook the country by surprise.
He was known for the conciliatory policy toward the Nihilists at whichhe had aimed while he was governor-general of Kharkoff. Accordingly, hispromotion to what virtually amounted to dictatorship was universallyinterpreted as a sign of weakening on the part of Alexander II. Indeed,Melikoff's first pronunciamento from the lofty altitude of his newoffice struck a note of startling novelty. He spoke of the Czar asshowing "increased confidence in his people" and of "public cooperation"as "the main force capable of assisting the government in its effort torestore a normal flow of official life"--utterances that were construedinto a pledge of public participation in affairs of state, into anunequivocal hint at representative legislation.
Loris-Melikoff was one of the ablest statesmen Russia had ever produced.He was certainly the only high official of his time who did not try toprove his devotion to the throne by following in the trodden path ofrepression. He knew that Russia could not be kept from joining in themarch of Western civilisation and he was not going to serve his personalinterests by pretending that it could. Instead, he hoped to strengthenhis position by winning the Czar over to his own moderate liberalism, byreconciling him to the logic of history. But the logic of history couldbest have been served by prompt and vigorous action, while the chief ofthe Supreme Executive Commission was rather slow to move. Nor, indeed,was he free from interference. The Czar was still susceptible to theinfluence of his unthinking relatives and of his own vindictive nature.
Chaos marked the situation. Loris-Melikoff's first week in office wassignalised by the most cruel act in the entire history of thegovernment's struggle against Nihilism. A gymnasium boy, seventeen yearsold (a Jew), was hanged in Kieff for carrying a revolutionaryproclamation. The dictator's professions of liberalism were branded ashypocrisy.
The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia Page 11