Alexander II_ The Last Great Tsar - Edvard Radzinsky [26]
How young, how happy they were.
They made three deep bows to the people from the Red Staircase.
“At 3 we went to the table in the Hall of Facets.… We had dinner with Mama, who bore up to this entire long trial excellently. At 9 we went to the upper balcony, where Alix lit the lamp on Ivan the Great. Then, afterward, the towers and walls of the Kremlin were illuminated.”
The Hessian princess looked out on the golden cupola of the great cathedral: the capital of half the world, the lights of the ancient capital of Europe and Asia, sparkled.
The empress-mother did indeed bear up to this whole long trial excellently. Her endurance would stand her in good stead the next day as well.
“17 May.… At 1.15 we went to congratulate the ladies. We began with the grand duchesses, then the ladies-in-waiting, the ladies of the town.… My legs ached occasionally….
“We went to the Bolshoi for the ceremonial performance. As usual, they were giving the first and last act of Life for the Tsar and a beautiful new ballet, The Pearl.” This “beautiful new ballet” was the very one in which, to the public’s amazement, Kschessinska appeared onstage.
The empress looked at the stage, at the detested Little K., and longed for revenge.
——
The next morning, on May 18, she wiped both the ill-starred ballet and triumphant Mathilde from her memory. May 18 became one of the most awful days in her son’s reign.
According to custom, after a coronation there was an outdoor fête for the people, where free food, candies, cookies, and so on were given out. As if the tsar were feeding his people. A site for the fête was chosen outside the city limits on Khodynka Meadow. The ancient “bread and circuses”—Caesar and his people.
Gaudy tents had been set up with sweets on Khodynka Meadow. Mugs were to be given out as well, coronation mugs with seals—and all for free. But forgotten ditches lay between the tents and the crowd that had gathered on the evening of the 17th (the number 17 again!). Forgotten thanks to the sloppiness of those in charge. Many were those who had come for the free refreshments; at least half a million crowded around—the crush was so great a bullet could not have slipped through. Everyone was waiting for the present-giving to commence. Then shouts rang out—people were suffocating in the crowd. Someone thought the dainties were being passed out! They pressed in. As this mass of bodies began to move, they fell into the trenches, and the crowd trampled over their heads, crushed their rib cages.
At dawn the broken corpses were carted out.
Twenty-two years later, also at dawn, also in carts, the corpses of Nicholas and his family would also be carried away.
When Minister Witte got into his coach that afternoon to attend the continuation of the festivities, he had already been informed about the two thousand dead on Khodynka Meadow. But by the time the brilliant carriages approached Khodynka everything had already been carefully cleared away—there was no trace of the catastrophe. The sun was shining, all of Europe’s aristocracy was in the pavilion, and a large orchestra was performing a cantata in honor of the coronation. The bedecked public milled around on the field. The sovereign was present as well. Constantly at his side was the governor-general of Moscow, Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, organizer of the coronation ceremonies.
Nicholas was embarrassed and distressed. Everyone noticed.
——
“18 May, 1896. Until now all has gone smoothly, but today a great sin occurred: the crowd that spent the night on Khodynka Meadow waiting for the food and mugs began to press on the structures and there was a terrible crush, and I must add terribly that about 1,300 people were trampled. Learned of this at 10.30.… The news left a repellent impression. At 12.30 we had lunch, then left for Khodynka, to attend this ‘sad national holiday.’
“From the pavilion we watched the crowd surrounding the stage, where they kept playing a hymn and ‘Be praised.