Kitabı oku: «The Empire of Russia: From the Remotest Periods to the Present Time», sayfa 32

CHAPTER XXXI
NICHOLAS

From 1825 to 1855

Abdication of Constantine.—Accession of Nicholas.—Insurrection Quelled.—Nicholas and the Conspirator.—Anecdote.—The Palace of Peterhoff.—The Winter Palace.—Presentation at Court.—Magnitude of Russia.—Description of the Hellespont and the Dardanelles.—The Turkish Invasion.—Aims of Russia.—Views of England and France.—Wars of Nicholas.—The Polish Insurrection.—War of the Crimea.—Jealousies of the Leading Nations.—Encroachments.—Death of Nicholas.—Accession of Alexander II.

Constantine was at Warsaw when the news arrived of the death of his brother. The mother of Alexander was still living. Even Nicholas either affected not to know, or did not know, that his wild, eccentric brother Constantine had renounced the throne in his favor, for he immediately, upon the news of the death of Alexander, summoned the imperial guard into the palace chapel, and, with them, took the oath of allegiance to his older brother, the Grand Duke Constantine. On his return, his mother, who is represented as being quite frantic in her inconsolable grief, exclaimed,

"Nicholas, what have you done? Do you not know that there is a document which names you presumptive heir?"

"If there be one," Nicholas replied, "I do not know it, neither does any one else. But this we all know, that our legitimate sovereign, after Alexander, is my brother Constantine. We have therefore done our duty, come what may."

Nicholas was persistent in his resolution not to take the crown until he received from his brother a confirmation of his renunciation of the throne. Three weeks elapsed before this intelligence arrived. It then came full and decisive, and Nicholas no longer hesitated, though the interval had revealed to him that fearful dangers were impending. He was informed by several of his generals that a wide-spread conspiracy extended throughout the army in favor of a constitutional government. Many of the officers and soldiers, in their wars against Napoleon and in their invasion of France, had become acquainted with those principles of popular liberty which were diffused throughout France, and which it was the object of the allies to crush. Upon their return to Russia, the utter despotism of the tzar seemed more than ever hateful to them. Several conspiracies had been organized for his assassination, and now the plan was formed to assassinate the whole imperial family, and introduce a republic.

Nicholas was seriously alarmed by the danger which threatened, though he was fully conscious that his only safety was to be found in courage and energy. He accordingly made preparation for the administration of the oath of allegiance to the army. "I shall soon," said he, "be an emperor or a corpse." On the morning when the oath was to be administered, and when it was evident that the insurrection would break out, he said, "If I am emperor only for an hour, I will show that I am worthy of it."

The morning of the 25th of December dawned upon St. Petersburg in tumult. Bands of soldiers were parading the streets shouting, "Constantine for ever." The insurrection had assumed the most formidable aspect, for many who were not republicans, were led to believe that Nicholas was attempting to usurp the crown which, of right, belonged to Constantine. Two generals, who had attempted to quell the movement, had already been massacred, and vast mobs, led by the well-armed regiments, were, from all quarters of the city, pressing toward the imperial palace. Nicholas, who was then twenty-nine years of age, met the crisis with the energy of Napoleon. Placing himself at the head of a small body of faithful guards, he rode to encounter his rebellious subjects in the stern strife of war. Instead of meeting a mob of unarmed men, he found marshaled against him the best disciplined troops in his army.

A terrible conflict ensued, in which blood flowed in torrents. The emperor, heading his own troops, exposed himself, equally with them, to all perils. As soon as it was evident that he would be compelled to fire upon his subjects, he sent word to his wife of the cruel necessity. She was in the palace, surrounded by the most distinguished ladies of the court, tremblingly awaiting the issue. When the thunder of the artillery commenced in the streets, she threw herself upon her knees, and, weeping bitterly, continued in prayer until she was informed that the revolt was crushed, and that her husband was safe. The number slain is not known. That it might be concealed, the bodies were immediately thrust through holes cut in the ice of the Neva.

Though the friends of liberty can not but regret that free principles have obtained so slender a foothold in Russia, it is manifest that this attempt could lead only to anarchy. The masses of the nobles were thoroughly corrupt, and the masses of the people ignorant and debased. The Russian word for constitution, constitutsya, has a feminine termination. Many of the people, it is reported, who were shouting, "Constantine and the constitution for ever," thought that the constitution was the wife of Constantine. It must be admitted that such ignorance presents but a poor qualification for republican institutions.

At the close of this bloody day, one of the leading conspirators, a general of high position in the army was led a captive into the presence of Nicholas. The heroic republican met, without quailing, the proud eye of his sovereign.

"Your father," said Nicholas sternly, "was a faithful servant, but he has left behind him a degenerate son. For such an enterprise as yours large resources were requisite. On what did you rely?"

"Sire," replied the prisoner, "matters of this kind can not be spoken of before witnesses."

Nicholas led the conspirator into a private apartment, and for a long time conversed with him alone. Here the tzar had opened before him, in the clearest manner, the intolerable burdens of the people, the oppression of the nobles, the impotency of the laws, the venality of the judges, the corruption which pervaded all departments of the government, legislative, executive and judiciary. The noble conspirator, whose mind was illumined with those views of human rights which, from the French Revolution, were radiating throughout Europe, revealed all the corruptions of the State in the earnest and honest language of a man who was making a dying declaration. Nicholas listened to truths such as seldom reach the ears of a monarch; and these truths probably produced a powerful impression upon him in his subsequent career.

Many of the conspirators, in accordance with the barbaric code of Russia, were punished with awful severity. Some were whipped to death. Some were mutilated and exiled to Siberia, and many perished on the scaffold. Fifteen officers of high rank were placed together beneath the gibbet, with ropes around their necks. As the drop fell, the rope of one broke, and he fell to the ground. Bruised and half stunned he rose upon his knees, and looking sadly around exclaimed,

"Truly nothing ever succeeds with me, not even death."

Another rope was procured, and this unhappy man, whose words indicated an entire life of disappointment and woe, was launched into the world of spirits.

We have before spoken of the palace of Peterhoff, a few miles from St. Petersburg, on the southern shores of the bay of Cronstadt. It is now the St. Cloud of Russia, the favorite rural retreat of the Russian tzars. This palace, which has been the slow growth of ages, consists of a pile of buildings of every conceivable order of architecture. It is furnished with all the appliances of luxury which Europe or Asia can produce. The pleasure grounds, in their artistic embellishments, are perhaps unsurpassed by any others in the world. Fountains, groves, lawns, lakes, cascades and statues, bewilder and delight the spectator.

There is an annual fête on this ground in July, which assembles all the elite of Russian society. The spacious gardens are by night illuminated with almost inconceivable splendor. The whole forest blazes with innumerable torches, and every leaf, twig and drop of spray twinkles with colored lights. Here is that famous artificial tree which has so often been described. It is so constructed with root, trunk and branch, leaf and bud as to deceive the most practiced eye. Its shade, with an inviting seat placed beneath it, lures the loiterer, through these Eden groves, to approach and rest. The moment he takes his seat he presses a spring which converts the tree into a shower bath, and from every twig jets of water in a cloud of spray, envelops the astonished stranger.

The Winter Palace at St. Petersburg is also a palace of unsurpassed splendor. More than a thousand persons habitually dwell beneath the imperial roof. No saloons more sumptuous in architecture and adornment are probably to be found in the world; neither are the exactions of court etiquette anywhere more punctiliously observed. In entering this palace a massive gateway ushers one into a hall of magnificent dimensions, so embellished with shrubs and flowers, multiplied by mirrors, that the guest is deceived into the belief that he is sauntering through the walks of a spacious flower garden. A flight of marble stairs conducts to an apartment of princely splendor, called the hall of the Marshals. Passing through this hall, one enters a suite of rooms, apparently interminable, all of extraordinary grandeur and sumptuousness, which are merely antechambers to the grand audience saloon.

In this grand saloon the emperor holds his court. Presentation day exhibits one of the most brilliant spectacles of earthly splendor and luxury. When the hour of presentation arrives some massive folding doors are thrown open, revealing the imperial chapel thronged with those who are to take part in the ceremony. First, there enters from the chapel a crowd of army officers, often a thousand in number, in their most brilliant uniform, the vanguard of the escort of the tzar. They quietly pass through the vast apartment and disappear amidst the recesses of the palace. Still the almost interminable throng, glittering in gala dresses, press on. At length the grand master of ceremonies makes his appearance announcing the approach of the emperor and empress.

The royal pair immediately enter, and bow to the representatives of other courts who may be present, and receive those who are honored with a presentation. No one is permitted to speak to their majesties but in reply to questions which they may ask. The Emperor Nicholas was very stately and reserved in his manners, and said but little. The empress, more affable, would present her ungloved hand to her guest, who would receive it and press it with fervor to his lips.

The Emperor Nicholas, during his reign, was supposed to have some ninety millions of the human family subject to his sway. With a standing army of a million of men, two hundred thousand of whom were cavalry, he possessed power unequaled by that of any other single kingdom on the globe. In the recent struggle at Sevastopol all the energies of England, France and Turkey were expended against Russia alone, and yet it was long doubtful whose banners would be victorious.

It is estimated that the territory of Russia now comprises one seventh of the habitable globe, extending from the Baltic Sea across the whole breadth of Europe and of Asia to Behring's Straits, and from the eternal ices of the north pole, almost down to the sunny shores of the Mediterranean. As the previous narrative has shown, for many ages this gigantic power has been steadily advancing towards Constantinople. The Russian flag now girdles the Euxine Sea, and notwithstanding the recent check at Sevastopol, Russia is pressing on with resistless strides towards the possession of the Hellespont. A brief sketch of the geography of those realms will give one a more vivid idea of the nature of that conflict, which now, under the title of the eastern or Turkish question, engrosses the attention of Europe.

The strait which connects the Mediterranean Sea with the Sea of Marmora was originally called the Hellespont, from the fabulous legend of a young lady, named Helle, falling into it in attempting to escape from a cruel mother-in-law. At the mouth of the Hellespont there are four strong Turkish forts, two on the European and two on the Asiatic side. These forts are called the Dardanelles, and hence, from them, the straits frequently receive the name of the Dardanelles. This strait is thirty-three miles long, occasionally expanding in width to five miles, and again being crowded by the approaching hills into a narrow channel less than half a mile in breadth. Through the serpentine navigation of these straits, with fortresses frowning upon every headland, one ascends to the Sea of Marmora, a vast inland body of water one hundred and eighty miles in length and sixty miles in breadth. Crossing this sea to the northern shore, you enter the beautiful straits of the Bosporus. Just at the point where the Bosporus enters the Sea of Marmora, upon the western shore of the straits, sits enthroned upon the hills, in peerless beauty, the imperial city of Constantine with its majestic domes, arrowy minarets and palaces of snow-white marble glittering like a fairy vision beneath the light of an oriental sun.

The straits of the Bosporus, which connect the Sea of Marmora with the Black Sea, are but fifteen miles long and of an average width of but about one fourth of a mile. In natural scenery and artistic embellishments this is probably the most beautiful reach of water upon the globe. It is the uncontradicted testimony of all tourists that the scenery of the Bosporus, in its highly-cultivated shores, its graceful sweep of hills and mountain ranges, in its gorgeous architecture, its atmospheric brilliance and in its vast accumulations of the costumes and customs of all Europe and Asia, presents a scene which can nowhere else be paralleled.

On the Asiatic shore, opposite Constantinople, lies Scutari, a beautiful city embowered in the foliage of the cyprus. An arm of the strait reaches around the northern portion of Constantinople, and furnishes for the city one of the finest harbors in the world. This bay, deep and broad, is called the Golden Horn. Until within a few years, no embassador of Christian powers was allowed to contaminate the Moslem city by taking up his residence in it. The little suburb of Pera, on the opposite side of the Golden Horn, was assigned to these embassadors, and the Turk, on this account, denominated it The swine's quarter.

Passing through the Bosporus fifteen miles, there expands before you the Euxine, or Black Sea. This inland ocean, with but one narrow outlet, receives into its bosom the Danube, the Dniester, the Dnieper, the Don and the Cuban. These streams, rolling through unmeasured leagues of Russian territory, open them to the commerce of the world. This brief sketch reveals the infinite importance of the Dardanelles and the Bosporus to Russia. This great empire, "leaning against the north pole," touches the Baltic Sea only far away amidst the ices of the North. St. Petersburg, during a large portion of the year, is blockaded by ice. Ninety millions of people are thus excluded from all the benefits of foreign commerce for a large portion of the year unless they can open a gateway to distant shores through the Bosporus and the Dardanelles.

America, with thousands of miles of Atlantic coast, manifests the greatest uneasiness in having the island of Cuba in the hands of a foreign power, lest, in case of war, her commerce in the Gulf should be embarrassed. But the Dardanelles are, in reality, the only gateway for the commerce of nearly all Russia. All her great navigable rivers, without exception, flow into the Black Sea, and thence through the Bosporus, the Marmora and the Hellespont, into the Mediterranean. And yet Russia, with her ninety millions of population—three times that of the United States—can not send a boat load of corn into the Mediterranean without bowing her flag to all the Turkish forts which frown along her pathway. And in case of war with Turkey her commerce is entirely cut off. Russia is evidently unembarrassed with any very troublesome scruples of conscience in reference to reclaiming those beautiful realms, once the home of the Christian, which the Turk has so ruthlessly and bloodily invaded. In assailing the Turk, the Russian feels that he is fighting for his religion.

The tzar indignantly inquires, "What title deed can the Turk show to the city of Constantine?" None but the dripping cimeter. The annals of war can tell no sadder tale of woe than the rush of the barbaric Turk into Christian Greece. He came, a merciless robber with gory hands, plundering and burning. Fathers and mothers were butchered. Christian maidens, shrieking with terror, were dragged to the Moslem harems. Christian boys were compelled to adopt the Mohammedan faith, and then, crowded into the army, were compelled to fight the Mohammedan battles. For centuries the Christians, thus trampled beneath the heel of oppression, have suffered every conceivable indignity from their cruel oppressors. Earnestly have they appealed to their Christian brethren of Russia for protection.

It is so essential to the advancing civilization of Russia that she should possess a maritime port which may give her access to commerce, that it is not easy for us to withhold our sympathies from her in her endeavor to open a gateway to and from her vast territories through the Dardanelles. When France, England and Turkey combined to batter down Sevastopol and burn the Russian fleet, that Russia might still be barred up in her northern wilds by Turkish forts, there was an instinct in the American heart which caused the sympathies of this country to flow in favor of Russia, notwithstanding all the eloquent pleadings of the French and English press.

The cabinet of St. James regards these encroachments of Russia with great apprehension. The view England takes of the subject may be seen in the following extracts from the Quarterly Review:

"The possession of the Dardanelles would give to Russia the means of creating and organizing an almost unlimited marine. It would enable her to prepare in the Black Sea an armament of any extent, without its being possible for any power in Europe to interrupt her proceedings, or even to watch or discover her designs. Our naval officers, of the highest authority, have declared that an effective blockade of the Dardanelles can not be maintained throughout the year. Even supposing we could maintain permanently in those seas a fleet capable of encountering that of Russia, it is obvious that, in the event of a war, it would be in the power of Russia to throw the whole weight of her disposable forces on any point in the Mediterranean, without any probability of our being able to prevent it, and that the power of thus issuing forth with an overwhelming force, at any moment, would enable her to command the Mediterranean Sea for a limited time whenever it might please her so to do. Her whole southern empire would be defended by a single impregnable fortress. The road to India would then be open to her, with all Asia at her back. The finest materials in the world for an army destined to serve in the East would be at her disposal. Our power to overawe her in Europe would be gone, and by even a demonstration against India she could augment our national expenditure by many millions annually, and render the government of that country difficult beyond all calculation."

Such is the view which England takes of this subject. The statesmen of England and France contemplate with alarm the rapid growth of Russia, and yet know not how to arrest its progress. They see the Russian tzars, year after year, annexing new nations to their territory, and about all they can do is to remonstrate. All agree that the only effectual measure to check the growth of Russia is to prevent her from taking possession of the Dardanelles. To accomplish this, England and France are endeavoring to bind together the crumbling and discordant elements of Ottoman power, to infuse the vigor of youth into the veins of an old man dying of debauchery and age. But the crescent is inevitably on the wane. The doom of the Moslem is sealed.

There are four great nations now advancing with marvelous strides in the appropriation of this globe to themselves. Russia has already taken possession of one seventh of the world's territory, and she needs now but to annex Turkey in Europe and Turkey in Asia to complete her share. France is spreading her influence throughout southern Europe, and, with a firm grasp, is seizing the provinces of northern Africa. England claims half of the islands of the ocean, boasts that the sun never sets upon her dominions, and has professed that the ocean is her private property. Her armies, invincible, sweep the remotest plains of Asia, removing and setting down landmarks at her pleasure. Her advances are so gigantic that the annexation of a few thousand leagues, at any time, hardly attracts attention. America is looking with a wistful eye upon the whole of North and South America, the islands of the Caribbean Sea and the groups of the Pacific.³¹

Immediately after the accession of Nicholas to the throne, war broke out with Persia. It was of short duration. The Persian monarch, utterly discomfited, was compelled to cede to Russia large provinces in the Caucasus, and extensive territory on the south-western shore of the Caspian, and to pay all the expenses of the war. Immediately after this, on the 7th of May, 1828, war was declared against Turkey. The Russian army, one hundred and sixty thousand strong, flushed with victory, crossed the Pruth and took possession of the entire left bank of the Danube, for some hundreds of miles from its mouth, with all its fertile fields and populous cities. They then crossed the river, and overran the whole region of Bulgaria. The storms of winter, however, compelled a retreat, which the Russians effected after most terrific conflicts, and, recrossing the Danube, they established themselves in winter quarters on its left banks, having lost in the campaign one half of their number. The Turks took possession of the right bank, and remained, during the winter, in face of their foes. In the spring of 1829 the Russians, having obtained a reinforcement of seventy thousand men, opened the campaign anew upon the land, while a fleet of forty-two vessels, carrying fifteen hundred guns, coöperated on the Black Sea.

Through fields of blood, where the Turks, with the energies of despair, contested every step, the victorious Russians advanced nearly three hundred miles. They entered the defiles of the Balkan mountains, and forced the passage. Concentrating their strength at the base of the southern declivities, the path was open before them to Constantinople. Pushing rapidly forward, they entered Adrianople in triumph. They were now within one hundred and fifty miles of Constantinople. The consternation in the Turkish capital was indescribable, and all Europe was looking for the issue with wonder. The advance guard of the Russian army was already within eighty miles of the imperial city when the sultan, Mahmoud IV., implored peace, and assented to the terms his victor extorted.

By this treaty, called the treaty of Adrianople, Turkey paid Russia twenty-nine millions of dollars to defray the expenses of the war, opened the Dardanelles to the free navigation of all Russian merchant ships, and engaged not to maintain any fortified posts on the north of the Danube.

In July, 1830, the Poles rose in a general insurrection, endeavoring to shake off the Russian yoke. With hurricane fury the armies of Nicholas swept the ill-fated territory, and Poland fell to rise no more. The vengeance of the tzar was awful. For some time the roads to Siberia were thronged with noble men driven into exile.

In the year 1833, Constantinople was imperiled by the armies of Mohammed Ali, the energetic pacha of Egypt. The sultan implored aid of Russia. Nicholas sent an army and a fleet, and drove Mohammed Ali back to Egypt. As compensation for this essential aid, the sultan entered into a treaty, by which both powers were bound to afford succor in case either was attacked, and Turkey also agreed to close the Dardanelles against any power with whom Russia might be at war.

The revolution in Paris of 1848, which expelled Louis Philippe from the throne, excited the hopes of the republican party all over Europe. The Hungarians rose, under Kossuth, in the endeavor to shake off the Austrian yoke. Francis Joseph appealed to Russia for aid. Nicholas dispatched two hundred thousand men to crush the Hungarians, and they were crushed. Nicholas asked no remuneration for these services. He felt amply repaid in having arrested the progress of constitutional liberty in Europe.

Various circumstances, each one trivial in itself, conspired to lead Nicholas in 1853 to make a new and menacing demonstration of power in the direction of Constantinople. An army was marshaled on the frontiers, and a large fleet assembled at Odessa and Sevastopol. England and France were alarmed, and a French fleet of observation entered the waters of Greece, while the English fleet at Malta strengthened itself for any emergence. The prominent question professedly at issue between Russia and Turkey was the protection which should be extended to members of the Greek church residing within the Turkish domains. The sultan, strengthened by the secret support of France and England, refused to accede to the terms which Russia demanded, and the armies of Nicholas were put on the march for Constantinople. England and France dispatched their fleets for the protection of Turkey. In the campaign of Sevastopol, with which our readers are all familiar, Russia received a check which will, for a few years, retard her advances.

During the progress of the campaign of Sevastopol, the emperor Nicholas, in February, 1855, was suddenly seized with the influenza. The disease made rapid progress. He could not sleep at night, and an incessant cough racked his frame. On the 22d, notwithstanding the intense severity of the weather, he insisted upon reviewing some troops who were about to set out for the seat of war.

"Sire," said one of his physicians, "there is not a surgeon in the army who would permit a common soldier to leave the hospital in the state in which you are, for he would be sure that his patient would reenter it still worse."

"'Tis well, gentlemen," said the emperor, "you have done your duty, and I shall do mine."

Then wrapping his cloak about him, he entered his sledge. It was a bleak winter's day. Pale, languid and coughing incessantly, he rode along the lines of his troops. He returned in a profuse perspiration, and was soon seized with a relapse, which was aggravated by the disastrous tidings he was receiving from Sevastopol. He rapidly failed, and the empress, anxious as to the result, suggested that he should receive the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.

"No!" the emperor replied. "I can not approach so solemn a mystery undressed and in bed. It will be better when I can do it in a suitable manner,"

The empress, endeavoring to conceal her tears, commenced the repetition of the Lord's prayer, in a low tone of voice. As she uttered the words "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven," he fervently added, "For ever, for ever, for ever." Observing that his wife was in tears he inquired, "Why do you weep? Am I in danger?" She, afraid to utter the truth, said, "No." He added, "You are greatly agitated and fatigued. You must retire and take some rest."

A few hours after three o'clock in the morning, Dr. Mandt entered. "Tell me candidly," said the emperor, "what my disease is. You know I have always forewarned you to inform me in time if I fell seriously ill, in order that I might not neglect the duties of a Christian."

"I can not conceal from your majesty," the physician replied, "that the disease is becoming serious. The right lung is attacked."

"Do you mean to say that it is threatened with paralysis?" enquired the emperor. The doctor replied, "If the disease do not yield to our efforts, such may indeed be the result; but we do not yet observe it, and we still have some hope of seeing you restored."

"Ah," said the emperor, "I now comprehend my state and know what I have to do." Dismissing his physician he summoned his eldest son, Alexander, who was to succeed him upon the throne; calmly informed him that he deemed his condition hopeless and that the hour of death was approaching. "Say nothing," he continued, "to your mother which may alarm her fears; but send immediately for my confessor."

The archpriest Bajanof soon entered, and commenced the prayers which precede confession. The prayers being finished, the emperor crossed himself and said, "Lord Jesus, receive me into thy bosom." He then partook of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper with the empress and his son Alexander. The remaining members of the imperial family were then summoned into the chamber. He announced with firmness his approaching end, and gave to each his particular blessing. The empress, overwhelmed with anguish, cried out, "Oh, God! can I not die with him?"

"You must live for our children," said the emperor; and then turning to his son Alexander, he added, "You know that all my anxiety, all my efforts had for their object the good of Russia. My desire was to labor until I could leave you the empire thoroughly organized, protected from all danger from without, and completely tranquil and happy. But you see at what a time and under what circumstances I die. Such, however, seems to be the will of God. Your burden will be heavy."

Alexander, weeping, replied, "If I am destined to lose you, I have the certainty that in heaven you will pray to God for Russia and for us all. And you will ask His aid that I may be able to sustain the burden which He will have imposed upon me."