Alexander II_ The Last Great Tsar - Edvard Radzinsky [178]
“My dear, good friend Sasha. I am making a last attempt at writing a real letter—at least from here—although that qualification, I believe, is utterly superfluous. I do not think that I was fated at any time to write anyone from anywhere. My voluntary confinement here is restricted less by time than by my earthly existence. In essence I am dead—dead for my children, for my work.… I am dead but not yet buried, or buried alive—whichever: the consequences are nearly identical.… My children may hold out hope that we will see each other again in this life.… but I personally do not indulge in that hope.… and I look the unadulterated reality right in the eye.… I will clarify for you with small episodes illustrating my condition. The day before yesterday, as I was calmly reading Saltykov-Shchedrin, whom I was greatly enjoying, I suddenly saw a reduced vision of my son Yury’s face, but dead, in a horizontal position, his eyes closed. Yesterday, at the same reading, I suddenly heard a word that sounded like papulya [papa dear]. I nearly burst into sobs. Again—this is not a hallucination because the word was pronounced, the voice was similar, and I did not doubt for an instant that my daughter, who was supposed to be in Tobolsk, was talking to me.… I will probably never hear that voice so dear or feel that touch so dear with which my little children so spoiled me….
“… If ‘faith is dead without deed,’ then deeds can live without faith. If any of us does combine faith and deeds, then it is only out of God’s special kindness. One such happy man—through grave suffering, the loss of my firstborn, my half-year-old little boy Seryozha—was I. Ever since then my code has significantly expanded and defined itself, and in every case I have also been concerned about the patient’s soul. This vindicates my last decision, too, when I unhesitatingly orphaned my own children in order to carry out my physician’s duty to the end, as Abraham did not hesitate at God’s demand to sacrifice his only son.”
Nicholas’s diary:
“28 June [11 July]. Thursday. In the morning, at about 10.30, three workers came up to the open window, hoisted a heavy railing, and attached it to the outside of the frame without any warning from Yu. We like this man less and less! Began to read the eighth volume of Saltykov-Shchedrin.”
This was the last straw. It was awful to enter the room and see that dark railing. He suffered both for her and for the boy.
And she … she was living the hard existence of captivity. She explained in her diary Nicholas’s obscure entry: “We like this man less and less.”
“June 28 (July 11). Thursday.… Command[ant] insisted to see us all at 10, but kept us waiting 20 m. as was breakfasting & eating cheese wont permit us to have any more any cream. Workmen turned up outside and put up iron railings before our only open window. Always fright of our climbing out no doubt or getting into contact with the sentry. Strong pains continue.… Remained in bed all day.”
Yes, the dark man wielded them two blows that day. In the final analysis, the cream, cheese, and eggs brought from the monastery had been a distraction to Alexei’s perpetual boredom.
(“It’s boring! What boredom!” These exclamations filled the boy’s diary.) And now on top of that—the railings.
But Yurovsky was only doing his job.
Their days were numbered, and he had already begun to isolate them from the world. He feared the monastery. Yes, the Cheka had conceived of transmitting the deceitful letters, but what if suddenly someone else.… He had to consider that “suddenly.” There was anarchy in Ekaterinburg. The gold reserves had been evacuated, the archives had already left town. Only the small detachment—that was all he had.
That was all right, though, for a few days.
THE DECREE OF EXECUTION
It happened