Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

an authentic Russian church choir to sing the eerily solemn Orthodox Requiem for the Dead.
When the curtain fell the people sat stunned. Into the silence a single hysterical voice
from the ranks—was it Meyerhold’s design or spontaneous?—intoned "Gospodin promilyu…"
The confession of sins and prayer for salvation.
Only then did applause break out in seemingly unending waves. Yuriev, Golovin,
Meyerhold, and the cast had to appear again and again. A standing ovation, baskets of flowers
and laurel wreaths piled up on stage.
Finally an actor appeared who announced that His Majesty the Emperor had bestowed
a gold cigarette case on Yuriev.
A puzzled murmur went through the theater. Yuriev’s homosexuality was well known,
and everybody recalled the incident in which six years earlier Nijinsky had been booed off the
same stage and dismissed on imperial orders, because of his affair with Diaghilev.
The presentation of the cigarette case would be Nicholas II’s last public act.
To Vladimir’s surprise, Alexandra was elated.
"A grandiose, macabre funeral for this corrupt regime," she proclaimed. "You were right
this production rivaled Munich’s Fasching! The music was suitably shallow, the acting
excellent, the choreography made you shiver, and the sets were superb. But Mahler’s sixth
symphony is a more profound requiem for Europe."
Vladimir countered mysteriously. "You don’t know how close to reality this came. Let’s
go home. Do you have a good vodka? Your favorite Georgian cognac is not coarse enough to
top off this experience. The graves for the imperial family are already being dug."
Going home was not easy. Shots could be heard on Nevsky Prospect. Police on horses
attacked demonstrators on Liteini Boulevard with drawn sabers. They had to take cover several
times in house entries to wait for the street to clear.
"I only have Polish vodka, it is excellent but you will have to swallow your Russian
pride," said Konrad when he got the bottle and glasses for the three of them. Anxious to hear
the news, Otto appeared in pajamas from his room woken by the noises of their return.
Vladimir handed him a glass. "Drink, Otto, the world is going to come to an end."
They huddled around the table in the dining room and Vladimir, in a conspiratorial voice
began. "The emperor will resign. He doesn’t know it yet, but I have it first hand. Alexander
Kerensky will, in the name of the Duma, present the emperor with an ultimatum demanding his
abdication. Before the week is over Kerensky will proclaim a Russian Republic."
He emptied his glass in one draw. "Adieu to a thousand years of Russian Empire."
Alexandra exchanged glances with Konrad. "Your imagination is overheated. Do you
think Nicholas will give up without a whimper?"
"Nicholas has no choice, his troops are completely demoralized. They will side with the
Socialists. The Petrograd garrison will stage an uprising if he refuses, and his Imperial Guard in
Tsarskoe Selo is riddled with Bolsheviks."
Konrad shook his head. "And what will happen thereafter? Kerensky and the Cadets are
not strong enough to hold their ground against the left-wing radicals or the conservative
royalists. Do you have the Bolsheviks on your side?"
"For the time being yes. Nicholas will bear the fate of Russia on his weak shoulders, as
he has said repeatedly. He will abdicate in order to fulfill the benighted vision of his tragic, Godordained,
religious mission."
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