Tsar Nicholas II

My latest book, still in the editing phase, is set before, during, and after the Russian Revolution and contains lots of interesting characters, perhaps none more so than Nicholas Romanov.

Nicholas was born on 19^th May 1868, the eldest child of the Tsarevich Alexander Alexandrovich and Marie Feodorovna (formerly Dagmar of Denmark). He was only twelve years old when his grandfather was killed by a bomb thrown at his carriage and was a witness when the shattered body was brought into the palace. Because of this, and other attempts on the lives of the Imperial Family, Nicholas’s father, Tsar Alexander III, moved his family to the palace in Gatchina for security reasons.

Nicholas was now the Tsarevich (the heir). It was said later that Alexander III failed to prepare his heir to become tsar. There were a couple of reasons why that my be true. He was known to be a particularly devoted family man. While conscientiously performing his duties, he found the time to take walks with his children gambolling around him, to play games and spend time with them. He did his best to give them a normal childhood and shield them from the ugliness outside the walls of the palace. Also, he was only forty-nine, a big man of rude good health, until he fell mortally ill and probably thought he had many years left in which to educate his heir in the complexities of ruling.

Any ruler would have had difficulty negotiating the challenges that were awaiting Nicholas, but although he had attended some meetings of the state council, he had never been given any responsibilities. Not only was he unprepared, but he lacked confidence in his ability to govern. What’s more, he had to fend off a plethora of uncles and cousins who tried to manipulate and dominate him.

His mother, now Dowager Empress, helped him as much as she could, but eight days after the death of his father, Nicholas married the woman he loved, Alexandra of Hesse and by Rhine. Alexandra was the one person who gave him confidence in himself, and she very quickly became the dominant influence in his life.

In roughly two-year intervals, the imperial couple produced four daughters and a son. Following his father’s example, Nicholas moved his family to Tsarskoe Selo (the people’s village) about twenty-five kilometers south of St. Petersburg, returning to the capital only on state or formal occasions.

In the meantime, in 1905, mighty Russia suffered a humiliating defeat in a war against Japan, which came about because of the conflicting expansionist policies of both countries. In a peace treaty brokered by President Theodore Roosevelt, Russia was forced to give up all interests in the Far East. The people were angry, certain that if the war had continued, their nation could not have been beaten by the little, racially-inferior Japanese. The result was strikes, demonstrations, and the first embryonic sign of revolution. On the day known as Bloody Sunday, unarmed demonstrators were shot by the hundreds in the square of the Winter Palace.

Nicholas was not in St. Petersburg at the time and was so shocked by the event that he gave in to the dissident elements, agreeing to the establishment of a Duma (parliament) and changing the political system of Russia from an autocracy to a constitutional monarchy. The Duma was not a great success, and Nicholas himself soon came to regret his decision and turned his back on it.

Anyone remotely interested in the era will already know the tragic story of Nicholas, so I don’t intend to go into much detail about that here, but there will be more about this unique family later.

Note the striking similarity between Nicholas and his first cousin, King George V of England. Nicholas is on the left.

The joys and horrors of moving

On June 1st. I moved from an apartment to a lovely house with a horrible garden. I left the apartment spotless, going back to clean the floor after the movers had departed. In visiting the house before buying, I saw the windows were extremely dirty but fully expected them to be cleaned up before we moved in. Nope! As if that wasn’t bad enough, the kitchen shelves were filthy. How can people leave a house in such a condition? Oddly, shelves in other places such as the hall and bedroom closets were clean.

The garden, however, did not come as a shock. There was no mistaking foot-high thistles and an invasive weed threading its way through two weigelas and along a row of hostas.

I lost one hosta but the weed (I don’t know what it is) is gone from that area, but I doubt the shrubs can be saved. The thistles have been removed but as I was digging them out, I discovered to my horror that beneath the mulch was a layer of stones and beneath that a layer of garden mesh. It was time to call in a man! I had chosen that area for my first flower bed – there are none apart from the hostas and some hydrangeas which I love – so we cleared the whole lot out and put in fresh soil and a few plants.

I lost one hosta but the weed (I don’t know what it is) is gone from that area, Next year I will have flowers. That was my moment of joy among the horrors. I gave myself a pat on the back. There are four more areas that seem to have been cut out for flower beds although nothing but weeds remain. What I have accomplished so far will have to do for this year.

Now I can spend more time on the second draft of my new book. I would love to share the title but I can’t think of one, so I will only say it’s set before, during and after the Russian Revolution.