“All things will end one day in Russia by some fearful revolution; the
Autocracy will fall, because millions of people cry out to God against
the Tsar,” wrote the Hanoverian resident, Weber, from Petersburg,
announcing the death of the Tsarevitch.
“The Crown Prince died, not of apoplexy, as is officially stated, but of
a sword or axe,” wrote Pleyer to his Emperor. “No one was admitted to the
fortress the day of his death, and just before evening it was locked up.
A Dutch carpenter, who worked on the new tower of the Cathedral and who
had remained there for the night unnoticed, saw, towards evening, strange
men near the torture chamber; this workman told it to his mother-in-law,
who is the midwife at the Dutch resident’s. The body of the Crown Prince
was laid in a coffin of inferior make; the head was partly covered, while
a neckerchief was wound round the neck as for shaving.”
The Dutch resident, James de Bie, reported to the States General, that
the Tsarevitch had had his veins opened, and that a rebellion was
expected in Petersburg.
The Resident’s letters were opened at the post office and presented to
the Tsar. James de Bie was arrested, brought to the ambassador’s chancery
and questioned. The Dutch carpenter and his mother-in-law were also taken
into custody.
To refute all rumours, a circular was drawn up by Tolstoi, Shafiroff and
Ménshikoff, and was sent in the Tsar’s name to the Russian residents at
foreign courts:—
“After the pronouncement of the verdict on our son, we, his father,
assailed by pity on the one side, and the desire to assure our country’s
peace on the other, could not come to a decision all at once, in this
highly difficult and important matter. Yet it pleased God Almighty, whose
judgments are always just, to deliver the Sovereign, his house, and the
empire from all danger and blame by means of His all-divine goodness.
Yesterday, on June 26, our son Alexis was taken from this life; when
the verdict and the list of crimes he had committed against us and the
empire, were being read to him, the Tsarevitch was seized with a kind of
apoplexy.
“He recovered consciousness and had, according to Christian usage, the
last rites of the Church administered to him; he also asked us to come to
him; and we, disregarding the trouble he had caused us, went to him with
all our ministers and senators. He confessed all his faults and crimes
against us, shedding abundant tears of repentance, and asked for pardon,
which we, conscious of our Christian and parental duty, readily granted
him. Thus, on June 26, at 6 in the evening, he died as a Christian.”
On June 27, the day after the death of Alexis, the ninth anniversary of
Poltava was celebrated in the usual way. The standard, a black eagle
on a yellow field, was hoisted on the fortress; mass was said at the
cathedral, cannons saluted, and a banquet was held in the Post Office
Court in the daytime, while at night the revels were continued on the
gallery overlooking the Neva, in the Summer Gardens at the foot of Venus.
It said in the report that the merry-making was great, the music sweet as
the sighings of love in the kingdom of Venus.
’Tis time to cast thy bow away,
Cupid, we all are in thy sway!
That same night the body of the Tsarevitch was laid in a coffin and
removed from the cell into a large empty log-built hall in the fortress.
In the morning it was carried into the cathedral, and permission was
given to the people, without distinction of rank or position, to come up
to the coffin, see the body, and take leave of the Tsarevitch.
Sunday, June 29, was another holiday—the Tsar’s name’s day. Again mass
was said, cannons saluted, church bells rang; dinner was served in the
Summer Palace; in the evening a new frigate, _The Old Oak_, was launched
from the Admiralty dockyards; an orgie took place; at night fireworks
were burnt and again there was great merry-making.
The funeral of the Tsarevitch was fixed on Monday, June 30. The
ceremony was very solemn. Stephen, Metropolitan of Riazan; Feofan,
Bishop of Pskoff; six more bishops, two metropolitans from Palestine,
archimandrites, priests, hiero-monks, archdeacons and eighteen ordinary
priests officiated. The Tsar, the Tsaritsa, the ministers and senators,
all high officials, military and civil, were present. Innumerable crowds
surrounded the church.
The coffin, covered with black velvet, stood on a high catafalque under a
canopy of golden brocade. Four officers of the Preobrazhensky Guards with
drawn swords formed a guard of honour.
Many of the dignitaries had headaches from last night’s drinking bout;
the old buffoons’ songs were still ringing in their ears:—
My mother bare me while she danced,
And christened me in the Tsar’s tavern——
The dim flames of candles and the subdued funeral singing seemed
singularly sombre on this bright summer’s day.
“Let the soul of Thy servant, O Christ, rest in peace with the saints,
where there is neither sickness, nor sorrow, nor sighings, but life
everlasting.”
The deacon responded in a monotone:—
“We pray for the soul of the departed servant of God, Alexis. May every
transgression, voluntary and involuntary, be forgiven him.”
The choir chanted:——
“The sobs of those who bewail the dead are: Hallelujah!——”
In the crowd some one burst into sobs; a tremor passed through the
church, when the last verse was sung:—
“You who see me voiceless and lifeless come hither, You who love me, give
me the last kiss.”
The Metropolitan Stephen was the first to approach the coffin. The
old man could scarcely walk. Two deacons supported him. He kissed the
Tsarevitch on his head and hands, then bending over the coffin he gazed
for a long time at his face. The Metropolitan Stephen was burying with
Alexis all he loved; ancient Muscovy, the Patriarchate, the freedom and
grandeur of the ancient church; his last hope, the hope of old Russia.
After the clergy, the Tsar ascended the steps of the catafalque. His
face was as white and impassive as it had been all these latter days.
He looked at his son. The countenance of the Tsarevitch was bright and
young. It seemed to have grown even brighter and younger since his death.
His smile was saying, “All is well! God’s will be done!”
Something twitched and trembled in Peter’s immovable face; something
seemed to be struggling forth with great effort. At last it succeeded.
The face became reanimated, radiant, as though illumined by the light
coming from the dead man’s countenance.
Peter bent down to his son and pressed his lips on the cold lips. Then he
lifted his eyes towards heaven—all saw he was weeping—made the sign of
the cross and said:—
“God’s will be done!”
He knew now that his son would justify him before God’s throne, and
would explain to him there what he could not fathom here: the meaning of
“Father” and “Son.”