Romanov Twilight

In Russia, the year 1913 was dedicated to celebrating the 300th anniversary of the House of Romanov. In 1613, the Zemsky Sobor (a parliamentary assembly limited to Muscovy’s three main “estates” – the nobility, the clergy, and townspeople) elected as tsar the young Mikhail Romanov – distantly related to the dynasty that had ended abruptly with the death of Ivan the Terrible’s son 15 years previous. Over the course of those 15 years, Russia had gone through a series of rulers and been plagued by conspiracies, coups, foreign invaders, and false pretenders before, at long last, a new dynasty was established. It was fated to rule Russia for 304 years.

Of course, in 1913, nobody knew that a mere four years remained before the Romanovs would be overthrown and just five before they would be physically annihilated. At that time, it was hard to imagine anything more immutable than tsarist power. The tumult of the 1905 revolution had passed, and there was a sense of optimism that most problems had been surmounted: reforms had been implemented, the Duma had introduced a measure of parliamentary democracy to the country, the economy was thriving, and Russian arts and culture were gaining international renown.

The Romanovs did indeed have cause for celebration. The festivities began in February, with the anniversary of Mikhail Fyodorovich’s election. And in May the royal family was to demonstrate its ties not only to St. Petersburg and Moscow, but to the vast Russian provinces. Nicholas II, together with his wife and children, set out on a sort of pilgrimage to sites that played a role in their ancestors’ ascent to the throne.

Their first stop was Vladimir, the city that had been the center of Rus before Moscow supplanted it. It was an appropriate starting point, since the rulers of Muscovy considered themselves the heirs of the princes of Vladimir.

From Vladimir, the Romanovs and their vast retinue made their way to Nizhny Novgorod, from whence, in 1612, the merchant Kuzma Minin and Prince Dmitry Pozharsky had lead an army of Russian patriots to liberate Moscow from Polish invaders.

Next on the itinerary was Kostroma, where, in 1613, Mikhail Romanov and his mother had taken refuge at Ipatiev (Hypatian) Monastery, after hearing that Polish troops were hunting down the newly elected monarch. Legend has it that, unfamiliar with the local geography, the Poles asked local peasant Ivan Susanin to show them the way. Susanin, however, intentionally led them astray – into a dense forest. He paid for this deception with his life, but his actions supposedly saved the new tsar.

There is scant evidence to support the legend of Ivan Susanin, yet it has nonetheless been eagerly believed, and Mikhail Glinka’s triumphant opera, A Life for the Tsar, has only served to further engrave it into the national consciousness. Certainly in 1913 no one was questioning the traditional narrative. In Kostroma, the tsar even met with Susanin’s descendants.

The august procession then turned in the direction of Moscow, passing through all the towns traversed by Minin and Pozharsky. Just as the unusual 1613 alliance of merchant and prince had symbolized the unity of the Russian people in the face of adversity, so too this twentieth-century journey was intended to demonstrate the bond between the royal family and its subjects. This bond was on full display in May 1913. Wherever the royal steamer docked as it made its way down the Volga, whatever station the royal train pulled up to after Yaroslavl, when the party resumed its travels by land, everywhere they stopped they were greeted by the ringing of church bells, ceremonial delegations, festivities, and joyous throngs.

In Vladimir, prisoners were granted amnesty and a new hospital was inaugurated. In Nizhny Novgorod, the city was bedecked with an amazing array of lights. In Kostroma, the Romanovs were greeted with a religious procession carrying holy relics dating to the dynasty’s beginnings, a grand parade marched through the town, and the tsar and his children attended an exhibition that included a recently felled 300-year-old pine, whose tree rings had been marked to show their correspondence to the various rulers of the Romanov Dynasty. In Yaroslavl, the tsar presided over the opening of a railway bridge across the Volga, connecting the regions of northern Russia with Moscow. At every stop along the way the royal party visited churches and met with countless delegations that had been granted the honor of greeting their rulers, who were presented with gifts, precious icons, and works of art. In Rostov, the young tsarevich was even given a hand-carved model of the Rostov Kremlin.

One might assume that this was all a well-organized and insincere demonstration of devotion. It was easy enough to assemble military regiments or herd local gymnasium students into neat formations to welcome the tsar, as was done in Rostov, and government officials could hardly refuse to form delegations to greet their sovereign. Naturally, the church bells rang on orders from above. No local officials wanted their town to be outdone in expressions of enthusiasm for the royal visit. However, nobody forced ordinary townspeople out onto the streets or compelled them to shout “Hurray!” as the imperial procession passed by. Furthermore, there is no record of the slightest protest or unrest along the course of the royal journey.

And this was May 1913! By May 1917, Nicholas II and his wife and children were already confined to Tsarskoye Selo, and the rejected tsar was suffering indignities at the hands of soldiers charged with guarding his family – soldiers who likely had relatives among those lining the streets of Nizhny Novgorod or Kostroma and shouting out heartfelt cheers just four years before.

In August 1917 the Provisional Government sent the royal family to Tobolsk, hoping that Siberia would offer them a measure of safety. But by 1918 both the Provisional Government and the royal family were no more. The Bolsheviks transferred the captives to the Urals, where, in Yekaterinburg, they met a violent end. Perhaps the soldiers who fired the fatal shots also had relatives among 1913’s cheering throngs in Yaroslavl or Rostov.

What happened?

Why were four short years and the First World War sufficient to completely undo the Romanov regime and unleash chaos? Nobody knows for sure. In May 1913, the tsar and tsaritsa were traveling across their native land to the resounding cheers of their subjects. Their fashionable daughters were visiting museums and exhibitions and their nine-year-old son was excited by the gift of a replica of the Rostov Kremlin.

In lieu of pat explanations, one is left to wonder at the coincidences history offers. The House of Romanov’s reign began in 1613, at the Ipatiev Monastery in Kostroma, and the ruling family was killed almost exactly 305 years later, at Ipatiev House in Yekaterinburg.