The
ROMANOVS
1613–1918
SIMON SEBAG MONTEFIORE
DEDICATION
To My Darling Daughter
Lily Bathsheba
IN MEMORIAM
Stephen Sebag-Montefiore
1926–2014
Isabel de Madariaga
1919–2014
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
List of Illustrations
Map: The Expansion of Russia, 1613–1917
Family Tree: The House of Romanov
Introduction
Acknowledgements and Sources
Note
Prologue: Two Boys in a Time of Troubles
ACT I: THE RISE
Scene 1: The Brideshows
Scene 2: The Young Monk
Scene 3: The Musketeers
Scene 4: The All-Drunken Synod
ACT II: THE APOGEE
Scene 1: The Emperor
Scene 2: The Empresses
Scene 3: Russian Venus
Scene 4: The Golden Age
Scene 5: The Conspiracy
Scene 6: The Duel
ACT III: THE DECLINE
Scene 1: Jupiter
Scene 2: Liberator
Scene 3: Colossus
Scene 4: Master of the Land
Scene 5: Catastrophe
Scene 6: Emperor Michael II
Scene 7: Afterlife
Epilogue: Red Tsars/White Tsars
Bibliography
Notes
Also by Simon Sebag Montefiore
Illustrations
Copyright
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Section One
Michael I from manuscript Great Monarch’s Book, or Root of Russian Sovereigns, 1672 (akg-images)
Alexei from manuscript Great Monarch’s Book, or Root of Russian Sovereigns, 1672 (akg-images)
Sophia Alexeievna (akg-images)
Terem Palace, 1813 (akg-images)
Poteshnye Palace (Alamy)
Peter the Great by Sir Godfrey Kneller, 1698 (Bridgeman)
Peter the Great by Ivan Nikitich Nikitin (Bridgeman)
Catherine I by Jean-Marc Nattier, 1717 (Bridgeman)
Alexei Petrovich by Johann Gottfried Tannauer, 1710 (akg-images)
Alexander Danilovich Menshikov, c.1725–7 (akg-images)
Peter II by Andrei Grigorievich, c.1727 (Bridgeman)
Anna Ivanovna, c.1730 (akg-images)
Ernst Johann von Biron, c.1730 (akg-images)
Anna Leopoldovna by Louis Caravaque, c.1733 (Bridgeman)
Ivan VI and Julie von Mengden (Fine Art Images)
Elizaveta by Charles van Loo, 1760 (Alamy)
Peter II and Catherine the Great by Georg Christoph Grooth, c.1745 (Bridgeman)
Catherine the Great after Alexander Roslin, c.1780 (The State Hermitage Museum, henceforth Hermitage)
Grigory Orlov, c.1770 (Alamy)
Grigory Potemkin by Johann Baptist von Lampi (Suvorov Museum, St Petersburg)
Catherine the Great by Mikhail Shibanov (Alamy)
Platon Zubov by Johann Baptist von Lampi (The State Tretyakov Gallery)
Section Two
Paul I by Vladimir Lukich Borovikovsky, 1800 (State Russian Museum)
Maria Fyodorovna by Jean Louis Voilee, c.1790 (State Russian Museum)
Ivan Kutaisov, c.1790 (Hermitage)
Anna Lopukhina by Jean Louis Voilee (Hermitage Museum)
Alexander I by George Dawe, 1825 (Bridgeman)
Alexander I meeting Napoleon at Tilsit, 1807 (Getty)
Moscow on fire in 1812 by A. F. Smirnow, 1813 (akg-images)
Alexei Arakcheev by George Dawe, c.1825 (Hermitage)
Mikhail Kutuzov, c.1813 (Alamy)
Elizabeth Alexeievna by Elisabeth Louise Vigee-LeBrun, c.1795 (Getty)
Maria Naryshkina by Jozef Grassi, 1807 (Alamy)
Katya Bagration by Jean-Baptiste Isabey, c.1820 (RMN-Grand Palais, musée du Louvre)
Declaration of Allied victory after the Battle of Leipzig, 19 October 1813 by Johann Peter Krafft, 1839 (Bridgeman)
Nicholas I by Franz Krüger, 1847 (Topfoto)
Alexandra Feodorovna with Alexander and Maria by George Dawe, c.1820–2 (Bridgeman)
Cottage pavilion in Peterhof (Corbis)
The Grand Kremlin Palace (Alamy)
Varenka Nelidova, c.1830 (Getty)
Alexander Pushkin by Avdotya Petrovna Yelagina, c.1827 (Getty)
Alexander II, c.1888 (Hermitage)
The surrender of Shamyl by Theodore Horschelt (Dagestan Museum of Fine Art)
Nikolai Alexandrovich and Dagmar of Denmark, 1864 (State Archive of the Russian Federation, henceforth GARF)
Alexander Alexandrovich and Dagmar of Denmark, 1871 (Royal Collection Trust/HM Queen Elizabeth II 2016, henceforth Royal Collection)
Alexander II with Marie and their children, c.1868 (Bridgeman)
Alexander II with Ekaterina Dolgorukaya and two of their children, c.1875 (Mary Evans)
Belvedere, Babigon Hill (Author’s collection)
Sketch of Ekaterina Dolgorukaya by Alexander II (Private collection)
Fanny Lear, c.1875 (Dominic Winter Auctioneers)
Konstantine Nikolaievich and family, c.1860 (GARF)
Alexis Alexandrovich and General George Custer, c.1872 (Getty)
Section Three
The Congress of Berlin by Anton von Werner, 1878 (akg-images)
The coronation of Alexander III by Georges Becker, 1888 (Hermitage)
Alexander III and family at Gatchina Palace, c.1886 (Royal Collection)
Mathilde Kshessinskaya, c.1900 (Alamy)
Guests at the wedding of Ernst of Hesse and Melita of Edinburgh, 1894 (Topfoto)
Nicholas and Alexandra, 1903 (Topfoto)
Sergei Alexandrovich and Ella, 1903 (Alamy)
Alexei Alexandrovich, 1903 (Topfoto)
Zina de Beauharnais, c.1903 (GARF)
Winter Palace (Alexander Hafemann)
The Cameron Gallery, Catherine Palace by Fyodor Alexeiev, 1823 (akg-images)
Alexander Palace (Walter Bibikow)
The Little Palace, Livadia, c.1900 (Getty)
The White Palace, Livadia (Alamy)
The Lower Dacha, Peterhof (GARF)
Treaty of Portsmouth peacemakers, 1905 (Topfoto)
Bloody Sunday, 9 January 1905 (Bridgeman)
Opening of the Duma, 27 April 1906 (Getty)
Grigory Rasputin with the royal family and Maria Vishnyakova, 1908 (GARF)
Rasputin with female admirers, 1914 (Getty)
Nicholas II, Alexandra and family, c.1908 (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, henceforth Yale)
Alexandra and Alexei in wheelchairs, c.1908 (Yale)
Nicholas II at Alexander Palace, c.1908 (Yale)
Royal family picnic with Anna Vyrubova, c.1908 (Yale)
Nicholas II hiking with courtiers, Crimea, 1908 (Yale)
Nicholas II hiking with his daughters, 1914 (Yale)
Section Four
Alexandra and Alexei at Alexander Palace, c.1908 (Yale)
Alexandra with one of her daughters and Anna Vyrubova, c.1908 (Yale)
The royal family in Crimea, c.1908 (Yale)
Nicholas II’s cars at Livadia, 1913 (Yale)
The royal family with Kaiser Wilhelm II aboard the Shtandart, 1909 (GARF)
Olga and Tatiana with officers aboard the Shtandart, 1911 (GARF)
The grand duchesses dancing on the Shtandart with officers, 1911 (Yale)
Nicholas II swimming in the Gulf of Finland, 1912 (GARF)
Nicholas II sharing a cigarette with Anastasia, c.1912 (GARF)
Anastasia at Tsarskoe Selo,
c.1913–4 (GARF)
Alexandra, c.1913 (Yale)
Nicholas II and Peter Stolypin in Kiev, 1911 (GARF)
A family picnic, c.1911 (Yale)
Alexei and Nicholas II in uniform, c.1912 (Yale)
Nicholas II hunting at Spala, 1912 (Yale)
Nicholas II, Alexandra and Alexei in Moscow, 1913 (Topfoto)
Alexei and Alexandra, 1912 (Yale)
Nicholas II, Tatiana, Anastasia and Maria at Peterhof, 1914 (GARF)
Nicholas II and Alexei at Mogilev, 1916 (Boris Yeltsin Presidential Library)
Nicholas II, Vladimir Frederiks and Nikolai Nikolaievich, 1916 (GARF)
Soldiers and the grand duchesses in a ward at Tsarskoe Selo, c.1914 (Yale)
Alexandra and Nicholas II at his desk, c.1915 (Yale)
Felix Yusupov and Irina Alexandrovna, 1915 (Mary Evans)
Rasputin’s corpse, 1916 (Getty)
Alexandra and Grand Duke Dmitri near Mogliev, c.1915–6 (GARF)
The royal family on the roof of the governor’s house at Tobolsk, 1917 (Getty)
Nicholas II in the woods at Tsarskoe Selo, 1917 (Library of Congress)
Nicholas II and Alexandra at Tobolsk, 1917 (Bridgeman)
INTRODUCTION
Heavy is the cap of Monomakh
Alexander Pushkin, Boris Godunov
The greatest empire is to be emperor of oneself
Seneca, Epistle 113
It was hard to be a tsar. Russia is not an easy country to rule. Twenty sovereigns of the Romanov dynasty reigned for 304 years, from 1613 until tsardom’s destruction by the Revolution in 1917. Their ascent started in the reign of Ivan the Terrible and ended in the time of Rasputin. Romantic chroniclers of the tragedy of the last tsar like to suggest that the family was cursed, but the Romanovs were actually the most spectacularly successful empire-builders since the Mongols. The Russian empire, it is estimated, grew by fifty-five square miles (142 square kilometres) per day after the Romanovs came to the throne in 1613, or 20,000 square miles a year. By the late nineteenth century, they ruled one sixth of the earth’s surface – and they were still expanding. Empire-building was in a Romanov’s blood.
In some ways, this book is a study of character and the distorting effect of absolute power on personality. It is partly a family story of love, marriage, adultery and children, but it is not like other such stories – royal families are always extraordinary because power both sweetens and contaminates the traditional familial chemistry: the allure and corruption of power so often trump the loyalty and affection of blood. This is a history of the monarchs, their families and retinues, but it is also a portrait of absolutism in Russia – and whatever else one believes about Russia, its culture, its soul, its essence have always been exceptional, a singular nature which one family aspired to personify. The Romanovs have become the very definition not only of dynasty and magnificence but also of despotism, a parable of the folly and arrogance of absolute power. No other dynasty except the Caesars has such a place in the popular imagination and culture, and both deliver universal lessons about how personal power works, then and now. It is no coincidence that the title ‘tsar’ derives from Caesar just as the Russian for emperor is simply the Latin ‘imperator’.
The Romanovs inhabit a world of family rivalry, imperial ambition, lurid glamour, sexual excess and depraved sadism; this is a world where obscure strangers suddenly claim to be dead monarchs reborn, brides are poisoned, fathers torture their sons to death, sons kill fathers, wives murder husbands, a holy man, poisoned and shot, arises, apparently, from the dead, barbers and peasants ascend to supremacy, giants and freaks are collected, dwarfs are tossed, beheaded heads kissed, tongues torn out, flesh knouted off bodies, rectums impaled, children slaughtered; here are fashion-mad nymphomaniacal empresses, lesbian ménages à trois, and an emperor who wrote the most erotic correspondence ever written by a head of state. Yet this is also the empire built by flinty conquistadors and brilliant statesmen that conquered Siberia and Ukraine, took Berlin and Paris, and produced Pushkin, Tolstoy, Tchaikovsky and Dostoevsky; a civilization of towering culture and exquisite beauty.
Out of context, these excesses seem so overblown and outlandish that ascetic academic historians find themselves bashfully toning down the truth. After all, the legends of the Romanovs – the juice of Hollywood movies and TV drama series – are as potent and popular as the facts. That is why the teller of this story has to be wary of melodrama, mythology and teleology – the danger of writing history backwards – and cautious of methodology. Scepticism is essential; scholarship demands constant verification and analysis. But one of the benefits of narrative history is that each reign appears in context to give a portrait of the evolution of Russia, its autocracy and its soul. And in these larger-than-life characters misshapen by autocracy, a distorted mirror appears, which reflects the tropes of all human character right back at us.
If the challenge of ruling Russia has always been daunting, the role of autocrat could only be truly exercised by a genius – and there are very few of those in most families. The price of failure was death. ‘In Russia the government is autocracy tempered by strangulation,’ quipped the French woman of letters Madame de Staël. It was a dangerous job. Six of the last twelve tsars were murdered – two by throttling, one by dagger, one by dynamite, two by bullet. In the final catastrophe in 1918, eighteen Romanovs were killed. Rarely was a chalice so rich and so poisonous. I particularly examine each succession, always the best test of a regime’s stability. It is ironic that now, two centuries after the Romanovs finally agreed a law of succession, Russian presidents still effectively nominate their successors just as Peter the Great did. Whether a smooth handover or desperate transition, these moments of extreme tension, when existential necessity demands that every reserve of ingenuity be deployed, every intrigue explored, reveal the fundamentals of power.
The essence of tsardom was the projection of majesty and strength. Yet this had to be combined with what Otto von Bismarck, rival and ally of the Romanovs, called ‘the art of the possible, the attainable, the art of the next best’. For the Romanovs, the craft of survival was based on the balancing of clans, interests and personalities of both a minuscule court and a gigantic empire. Emperors needed to keep the support of their army, nobility and their administration. If they lost all three, they were likely to be deposed – and, in an autocracy, that usually meant death. As well as playing the lethal game of politics, the sovereigns had to exude visceral, almost feral authority. An effective tsar could be harsh provided he was consistently harsh. Rulers are often killed not for brutality but for inconsistency. And tsars had to inspire trust and respect among their courtiers but sacred reverence among the peasantry, 90 per cent of their subjects, who saw them as ‘Little Fathers’. They were expected to be severe to their officials but benign to their peasant ‘children’: ‘the tsar is good,’ peasants said, ‘the nobles are wicked.’
Power is always personal: any study of a Western democratic leader today reveals that, even in a transparent system with its short periods in office, personalities shape administrations. Democratic leaders often rule through trusted retainers instead of official ministers. In any court, power is as fluid as human personality. It flows hydraulically to and from the source, but its currents constantly change; its entire flow can be redirected, even reversed. In an autocracy, the power is always in flux, as changeable as the moods, relationships and circumstances – personal and political – of one man and his sprawling, teeming domains. All courts work in similar ways. In the twenty-first century, the new autocracies in Russia and China have much in common with that of the tsars, run by tiny, opaque cliques, amassing vast wealth, while linked together through hierarchical client–patron relationships, all at the mercy of the whims of the ruler. In this book, my aim is to follow the invisible, mysterious alchemy of power to answer the essential question of politics, laconically expressed by that maestro of powerplay, Lenin: kto kogo? – who controls whom?
; In an autocracy, the traits of character are magnified, everything personal is political, and any proximity to the sovereign is transformed into power, woven into a golden thread extending from the crown to anyone it touches. There were sure ways to gain the intimate confidence of a tsar. The first was to serve in court, army or government and especially to deliver military victory; the second was to guarantee security – every ruler, not only those in Russia, needs an indispensable hatchetman; the third was mystical – to ease divine access for the imperial soul; and the fourth and oldest way was amorous or sexual, particularly in the case of female empresses. In return, the tsars could shower these servitors with cash, serfs and titles. Tsars who turned their back on the court’s brokering arrangement or who performed dramatic reversals of foreign policy against the wishes of their potentates, particularly the generals, were liable to be murdered – assassination being one of the few ways for the elite to protest in an autocracy without formal opposition. (The people’s way to protest was urban riot and peasant uprising, but for a tsar his nearby courtiers were far more deadly than distant peasants – and only one, Nicholas II, was ever overthrown by popular revolt.)
Intelligent tsars understood that there was no division between their public and private lives. Their personal life, played out at court, was inevitably an extension of politics: ‘Your destiny’, wrote the Roman historian Cassius Dio about Augustus, ‘is to live as in a theatre where your audience is the whole world.’ Yet even on such a stage, the real decision-making was always shadowy, arcane and moulded by the ruler’s intimate caprice (as it is in today’s Kremlin). It is impossible to understand Peter the Great without analysing his naked dwarfs and dildo-waving mock-popes as much as his government reforms and foreign policy. However eccentric, the system worked and talent rose to the top. It may be surprising that two of the ablest ministers, Shuvalov and Potemkin, started as imperial lovers. Emperor Paul’s Turkish barber, Kutaisov, became as influential as a born-prince. So, a historian of the Romanovs must examine not just official decrees and statistics on steel production but also the amorous arrangements of Catherine the Great and the mystical lechery of Rasputin. The more powerful official ministers became, the more the autocrats asserted their power by bypassing them to use personal retainers. In gifted emperors, this made their deeds mysterious, startling and awesome, but in the case of incompetent ones, it muddled government hopelessly.
The Romanovs Page 1
