Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [464]
Alexander groaned. ‘It’s those zemstvo men, like my father, isn’t it?’ he muttered. ‘They’ve stirred up all this trouble.’
But to Alexander’s surprise, Suvorin shook his head firmly. ‘Don’t blame your father,’ he replied. ‘Wait.’ And for several more minutes he said nothing.
Only when they were outside in the warm and dusty street did Suvorin explain. Taking the boy by the arm, he walked up and down with him, speaking quietly but with conviction.
‘You don’t understand what is happening, my friend. Do you know the story of the emperor who had no clothes? Well, that’s what is happening to the Tsar now. Think of it – Russia is huge, inchoate, disorganized. A vast land of peasants where a semblance of order is maintained by an autocratic Tsar, his army and police, and a minority of privileged people like you who have few links with the people. But the whole state is a huge sham, don’t you see? Because – this is the key – no one has any real power. The Tsar has no power because his army is in the east and he has no true link with his people. The government is not for the people, it’s against them. You and your father have no power: you depend upon the Tsar for all your privileges. I have no power: I depend upon the Tsar to maintain order and protect my business. The people have no power, because they have no organization, and no idea what they want anyway.’ He shrugged. ‘The present crisis shows that the Tsar is actually unable to lead our society or to control it. The emperor has no clothes. And in this huge mess we call the empire, it will only take one spark to set off a huge fire. We could have a revolt any day, that would make the Pugachev look like a tea party. Total, mindless, chaos.’ Suvorin sighed. ‘That’s why I’m being careful.’
‘So what can the Tsar do?’
‘Head them off. The only organized forces out there are two. There are the unions, still forming, and except for the railway men all professionals – the doctors, teachers and lawyers – and there are the zemstvo men like your father, the only people with a programme. The Tsar has to come to terms with them and hope that the people will quieten down. The longer he takes, the worse it will be.’
‘But what about the Tsar and Holy Russia?’ cried Alexander. ‘The peasants believe in that.’
Suvorin smiled. ‘They do on Feast Days, I dare say,’ he replied. ‘But only two people believe in Holy Russia every day of the year.’
‘Who are they?’
‘The Tsar himself, my young friend. Just the Tsar.’ He grinned. ‘And you!’ He liked to tease the boy.
It was as they continued their walk round the town that Alexander noticed that Suvorin seemed to be looking for something. His eyes were constantly scanning the street before him: several times he turned abruptly to glance to one side. When Alexander asked him, however, what he was searching for, the industrialist quietly smiled. ‘Not something, my friend. Someone.’ He glanced down at young Bobrov.
‘Hasn’t it occurred to you,’ Suvorin asked, ‘that all the time we went round inside, we saw only familiar faces. No sign of the outsiders who stirred up the trouble. But I’ve discovered who it is: a single man.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘They call him Ivanov.’
‘Will you arrest him?’
‘No. I’d like to, but it would only create more trouble.’
‘Are you going to speak to him?’
‘I offered to, but he avoids me. He’s a cunning devil.’ He paused. ‘I’d like to get a good look at him. Just so I’d know him another time.’
They continued to walk. They strolled to the little park by Suvorin’s house and gazed down from the parapet over the woodlands and river below. Then