My strong Ministers
were too physical and myopic to look beyond their noses. They were
afraid to seem afraid of _truth_,--and they even accused me of
plotting with Kazantsev and Feodorov against the life of my Minister
of Finance,--always excuses for fomenting discontent! They never
seemed to realize that the HAPPINESS of the PEOPLE meant the SECURITY
of the CROWN. As a matter of fact the only loyal supporters I ever had
around me were my wife and family besides a few others in the service
of the State. When I announced my war aims on the Pacific for the
benefit of my people my leading Minister had the audacity to obtrude
upon my privacy at Tsarskoye Selo and demand that I withdraw the
manifesto. This piece of impudence cost me the decision in that war.
That magniloquent Minister, with his versatile Irish amanuensis, not
only turned my mother against me, but he had the temerity to demand
that I dismiss my best agent, Azeff, who alone kept me advised of the
machinations of the Social Revolutionists, who, in turn, accused me of
murdering my uncle Sergius--the greatest theologian of the age. As I
recall the time, now, I am, of course, convinced that the only _real
friend_ I had among those Social Revolutionists was BURTZEV,--but
I understood him too late!'... My prisoner spoke regretfully. His
voice was soft and courteous, breaking at times into the altisonance
of the tragic muse.
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