The first Session of the High Court was opened on June 17, in the
Audience Hall of the Senate House. The judges consisted of ministers,
senators, generals, governors, captains of the army and navy, majors,
lieutenants, sub-lieutenants, ensigns, war-commissioners, officials
of the new government departments, and old Boyars, numbering in all,
civilian and military, 127 men. Truly a very mixed assemblage! as those
of the nobility who were present commented among themselves. Some could
not even write, and thus were unable to sign the sentence.
After hearing Mass, which was solemnized in the Church of the Holy
Trinity, to invoke Divine aid in their difficult undertaking, the judges
assembled in the Senate House. The doors and windows of the hall were
open, not only to allow the entrance of fresh air, for it was a hot and
heavy day, but also to give to the trial some semblance of publicity. The
neighbouring streets had, however, been closed by chevaux-de-frise and
barricades; while a whole battalion of the guards, with guns shouldered,
was drawn up on the Square to keep the “rabble” at a distance. The
Tsarevitch was brought from the fortress under the custody of four
officers with drawn swords.
There was a throne in the Audience Hall, the Tsar, however, did not mount
it, but seated himself in an arm-chair at the end of the hall. Behind
two rows of tables covered with red cloth were seated the judges. The
Tsarevitch took up a position in front of his father, like a defendant
facing the plaintiff.
When the Court was declared open Peter rose and said:—
“Gentlemen of the Senate and Judges, I pray you to judge this case in
the fullest spirit of equity, as its nature demands, yielding no place
to flattery or sordid motives. If you decide that a light punishment
will suffice, but hesitate through fear of my displeasure from passing
such a sentence, I give you my word that this will not be incurred. I
pray you also not to give any weight to the consideration that it is the
son of your Tsar whom you are called upon to judge. Misled by no mere
appearance, be strictly impartial; let the rights of man and man prevail,
and imperil in nowise your own souls and mine, for our consciences ought
to be clear on the day of the last Judgment, and our country secure.”
The Vice-Chancellor Shafiroff read aloud a long list of the crimes
charged against the Tsarevitch, some of which he had already publicly
admitted, others being new, which it was alleged he had concealed at the
first Inquiry.
“Do you plead ‘guilty’?” asked Prince Ménshikoff, who had been elected
president of the Court.
All expected that the Tsarevitch would fall on his knees before his
father, and with tears would pray that mercy might be shown him, as
he had done at Moscow; but when they saw him rise and look round the
assembly with a calm gaze they knew that events would take a different
course.
“Whether I be guilty or no is not for you, but for God alone to
judge,” he began, amid silence sudden and profound, and the breathless
expectation of all. “How is it possible for you to pass righteous
judgment without freedom of speech? Where is your freedom? You are the
slaves of the Tsar; whatever he bids you say, you do say. This is called
a trial, but it is only an exhibition of injustice and tyranny. You know
the fable of the wolf who went to law with the lamb. Your tribunal is
a tribunal of wolves. Were I innocent a hundred times over, you would
condemn me all the same. If instead of you it was the whole Russian
people who were proceeding to judge between me and my father—that would
be a very different matter. I love the people. Peter is great, very
great; but at the same time his rule is stern and heavy and it is hard
to breathe under it. What lives have been lost, how much blood has been
shed! The earth herself is groaning beneath it. Do you hear nothing, do
you see nothing? But what is the use of speaking? You are not a Senate
at all, you are lackeys of the Tsar, his lackeys all of you, from the
highest to the lowest!”
A murmur of disapproval drowned the last words, yet nobody dared stop
him. All looked towards the Tsar, waiting for him to speak. But the Tsar
remained silent, not a muscle of the stony, rigid face quivered; only the
large flashing eyes encountered the fixed gaze of his son.
“Why are you silent, Father?” said the Tsarevitch suddenly with a mocking
smile to the Tsar. “Has it startled you to hear the truth? Had you merely
ordered my head to be cut off, I would not have said a word; but since
you have instituted this mock tribunal, whether it be agreeable to you or
not you will have to hear me. When you lured me back to Petersburg from
under the Emperor’s protection did you not swear by God and His judgment
to pardon me everything? What account do you give of that promise? You
are dishonoured in the sight of all Europe! The Autocrat of Russia, a
perjurer and a liar——”
“Such language cannot be tolerated—It is _lèse-Majesté_. He has gone out
of his mind—Away, away with him!” rose from a number of voices.
Prince Ménshikoff came to the Tsar and whispered something to him. But
the Tsar continued silent, as though unable to see or hear anything; his
face was as expressionless as that of one dead.
“You shall be the first to stain the block with the blood of a son, the
blood of Russia’s Tsars,” Alexis rejoined, and his words rang with a
prophetic accent. “This blood shall descend upon successive generations
of our lineage unto the last Tsar of our race—all shall perish in blood.
God will visit your sin upon Russia!”
Peter stirred heavily, with indescribable effort, as if he were striving
to rise from under some terrible burden. At last he stood up; his
face became convulsed and distorted, the stone mask seemed to become
reanimated, his lips parted and a hoarse sound escaped from his throat.
“Silence! silence! I will curse you!”
“_You_ will curse _me_?” exclaimed the Tsarevitch beside himself. He
rushed upon the Tsar and raised his fists.
All were terror stricken: it seemed as though the next moment he would
strike his father or spit in his face.
“You will curse me! I myself will curse you—Villain—Murderer,
Beast—Antichrist!—Be accursed, accursed, accursed!”
Peter fell back into his chair and held his hands out as in self defence.
All started up. A pause ensued, as at a cry of fire or murder. Some
closed the window and doors, while others sought safety in flight; some
again surrounded Alexis and tried to drag him away from his father, and
others rushed to succour the Tsar. He had fainted, he had had another fit
like that of a month ago at Peterhof. The session was closed.
That same night the High Court assembled once more and sentenced the
Tsarevitch to be examined under torture.