On a beautiful spring day in 1912, seventeen-year-old Michael Tetov has grand plans as he graduates from the Corps des Pages and looks forward to serving the Empress Alexandra as a page at court. An aristocrat, he's concerned with social graces, with practicing the dictates of the Russian Church, and with properly fulfilling his duties to the tsar. He has little time to think about the great problems Russia faces. At this time, he cannot envision that he would witness the demise of two magnificent worlds-the imperial Russian court of Tsar Nicholas II and the reign of the last maharaja of Shandragar, India. Follow Prince Tetov as he seeks meaning and justice in his life. His escapes during the Russian Revolution of l9l7; his service with Semenov, the Monster of the Urals; and his kidnapping during the savage Malabar Riots in India destroy his faith in mankind. Love affairs with a servant-turned-Bolshevik, a peasant-turned-partisan fighter, and a titled English lady contribute to his efforts to find his soul. For the Tsar and the Raj tells the tale of a hero who lived in the precarious times that reshaped the world.
For the Tsar and the Raj
By Thomas E. BerryiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 Dr. Thomas E. Berry
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4502-5200-3Contents
Chapter 1 Lost Worlds...........................5Chapter 2 War...................................44Chapter 3 Revolution............................75Chapter 4 Civil War.............................111Chapter 5 My Maharaja...........................143Chapter 6 The Malabar Riots.....................174Chapter 7 The British Raj.......................202
Chapter One
Lost Worlds
1912
It is incredible that I witnessed the demise of two magnificent worlds, the imperial Russian court of Tsar Nicholas II and the reign of the last maharaja of Shandragar, India. How could all of that ostentation and beauty disappear? What happened to all of those elegant and remarkable people? Was it real, or did I live through a dream? I must have been blinded by the opulence and splendor around me, or I would have known that the intrigues, mysteries, and corruption I was involved in could only lead to perdition. I did not realize that honor could be bought, that love could be perverse and untrue, and that God as well as man could fail. And so, through my ineptitude, I lost my soul.
* * *
It seems only yesterday that I, Michael Tetov, seventeen years old and a kamer-page, rushed down the marble staircase of Tetov Palace in St. Petersburg without paying any attention to the gilt-encased portrait of Catherine the Great, which the empress had given my family in the eighteenth century. It was a special day. On that beautiful spring morning in 1912, I was to graduate from the famous Corps des Pages of the emperor, and I had no time for reflections about the malachite vases along the banister or the lapis lazuli inlays in the curved wall. I would serve Empress Alexandra at court, and my close friend, Prince Hassid of Shandragar, the first foreign prince to graduate from the corps, would serve Emperor Nicholas II. Unfortunately, Prince Hassid was in London on official business with the English crown and would not be at the tsar's coronation ceremonies. However, I felt sure we two pages would have a brilliant year at the Russian court.
* * *
In my excitement, I practically ran through the large marble entrance hall into the morning room of the mansion's left wing. Abruptly stopping in the middle of the chamber, l composed myself, attempting to smooth out any wrinkles in my ceremonial white pants and red jacket decorated with many rows of gold braid. I ran a hand through my thick, dark hair and brushed my eyebrows. After quickly glancing at my face in a mirror, I walked to the entrance of the morning room. In the doorway, I stood erect and waited for the attention of my mother, Princess Irina Tetova, a matron of honor to the empress. Having been reared by governesses and educated by private tutors, I valued the minutes each day that I would be allowed with the princess. She noticed me immediately and said, "Mon cher, come sit by me this glorious morning."
Smiling proudly, I walked over to her. She was dressed in a Parisian morning coat made of lilac lace that beautifully set off her light, reddish hair. She extended a hand, which I kissed. My smile showed my contentment. I had upheld the family honor and was thrilled that I had pleased my parents. Our family, the Tetovs, was of the ancient nobility and had a coat of arms that dated back to the fifteenth century, when one of our ancestors had served at the court of Ivan the Terrible. Other family members had served various emperors during the long reign of the Romanov family, which was to celebrate its three hundredth anniversary in 1913. I would be serving the empress during many prestigious and elaborate ceremonies. That my mother would be present as the empress's matron of honor only increased my pride. I had achieved my goal.
Just as I sat down, a servant approached with a menu that needed the princess's approval. She excused herself for a moment and examined the list. I looked about the chamber, which was filled with the sunlight streaming through large French windows. Everything seemed brilliant. The gilded cupids and scrolls on the white walls shone brightly. The silver girandoles glistened. I observed the beauty of the room, but my mind was occupied with some perplexing situations. I hoped that my mother would not ask about her suggestion that I pursue Princess Maria Dashkova with the object of marriage in mind. I also feared that she might again insinuate that my father, Prince Igor Tetov, had a mistress. He did, but I would deny it. Worse still, I prayed that she had not been told that I had slept with her friend, Countess de Soiseau. Yes, I had discovered the joy of a woman's body, but it did not seem the time for such matters. I wanted only to bask in my mother's praise for my achievement.
"Darling," my mother began, turning to me as the servant with the menu left the room. Her bright eyes beamed at me. "You look ..." She paused, glancing at me from head to toe, but before she could finish her sentence, a tall valet swept in through the gilded doors.
"May I present," he announced, "Prince Sergey Voronsov."
My mother glanced away from me and greeted her brother kindly. I stood up and bowed. The tall and stately middle-aged prince, smiling as usual, sat down at the table and smoothed his gray moustache as he talked.
"My dears, I have news," he said. "The Dashkovs have accepted my invitation for a week in the country."
I sensed immediately that an intrigue was being arranged. Feeling quite at ease with my mother and uncle, I blurted out, "Oh, no you don't! You're not isolating me for a week with Maria!"
Everyone laughed; it had been far too obvious. Sergey admitted that he had only participated in the plan because he wanted the best for his favorite relative.
The princess again revealed her feelings about such a marriage. "Darling boy, don't you realize the advantages of such a union? The Dashkovs are one of the most noted families in Russian history, and Maria is one of the most desired young maidens at court." She stood and gracefully raised a hand as she added, "Besides, let's not forget that she is an only child. You might not think in terms of the advantages of her great wealth now, but such a fortune rarely comes with such a charming young lady."
I bowed my head slightly and said in rebuttal, "Mother, I know that her great-grandmother was a close friend of Catherine the Great. She even helped put her on the throne. But wasn't there something strange about their relationship?"
Mother dropped her handkerchief on the table as if brushing aside my remark. "Oh that legend is just a rumor. There's nothing unusual about Maria."
I could not help myself and blurted out, "Except that she bores me greatly." The disappointment on my mother's face caused me to immediately add, "However, Mother, for your sake, I agree on spending the time at Uncle Sergey's estate. It will not be a courtship, but I shall be as kind and gentlemanly as possible with her."
Mother smiled and sat down as if she were satisfied. I was relieved, but I knew that I was not ready for any entanglements. I had plans!
Prince Hassid and I had been friends from the very beginning of our studies in the Corps des Pages. We both already spoke English; I had grown up with tutors in English, French, and German, and he had lived under the British rule in India where he had studied English. His dream was for me to visit his homeland, and I wanted the excitement of such an opportunity. For the moment, he was in Paris staying with another relative, but after we finished our duties at the Russian court, I planned to accompany him back to his enchanting and mysterious country. Mother knew what I had in mind and commented about my desire to her brother.
Prince Sergey chuckled and exclaimed as he pointed a finger at me, "Just an adventurer like I was—and look at my wasted life!"
His sister objected. She did not feel that her brother had wasted his life. She pointed out that he had served in the diplomatic corps and was a member of a distinguished numismatic association. Again Sergey let out his typical chuckle.
"Yes, very distinguished. We hire people to find coins for us and take credit for broadening our culture. Really, ma cherie, let's be honest. I've been a wastrel, and I know it."
Princess Irina frowned but turned toward me. "You might just enjoy getting to know sweet Maria better."
When I nodded to please her, she changed the subject. There was a serious matter on her mind. Empress Alexandra had not visited St. Petersburg for eight years. After the 1905 rebellion on Palace Square, she moved her family from the Winter Palace to the Alexander Palace twenty miles away in the country. Catherine the Great had built it in the eighteenth century for her favorite grandson, Alexander I. Now in that noted palace Empress Alexandra had practically become a recluse and had fallen under the influence of the monk Rasputin, whom the princess considered despicable. Yet, as a matron of honor to the empress, Irina had time-honored obligations. An invitation to the palace in Tsarskoe Selo had been received, and she was concerned about what she should do. Half of the leading aristocracy, headed by Grand Duke Vladimir, was plotting against the scandalous monk, but others upheld the tsaritsa's devotion. Since my mother felt that her brother was a master of social graces, she sought consultation with him.
Empress Alexandra was well aware of the divisions among the Russian aristocracy, and her contempt for her opposition was well known. Since she had avoided Russian society for years, Alexandra's invitation was a matter of concern for my mother. She could not understand why she had suddenly been summoned. It was assumed that the invitation pertained to preparations for the forthcoming anniversary events in 1913. However, knowing how rumors about the royal family were constantly spreading among the aristocracy, my mother was fearful. She disliked social conflicts immensely and was afraid that the empress had learned that she, a matron of honor, had joined in with Grand Duke Vladimir's antagonists.
Uncle Sergey could not believe that the empress had any unpleasant intentions and comforted his sister. He was glad that my mother and Zenaide Usupova had developed a close relationship, which he attributed to several causes. First of all, they were both ladies-in-waiting to Empress Alexandra and were highly concerned about the manner with which the empress was excluding herself from society. It seemed as though they sort of depended on each other for news of Her Majesty and for sharing confidences about the situation. Alexandra needed their support, but her cold reserve kept them at a distance. At Tsarskoe Selo, where the Usupovs had a small eighteenth-century palace that resembled a charmingly decorated wedding cake, the empress rarely invited her matron of honor, even though the Alexander Palace, where she was living, was within walking distance of the Usupovs' lovely villa. My mother was often driven down to that village of palaces for afternoon teas with Zenaide. They commiserated about the great division in Russian society that the empress's behavior had brought about.
After some thought, mother finally informed her brother that she would send a note to the empress accepting the invitation. With that bit of family business settled, she graciously picked up her handkerchief from the table, smiled at us both, and left for the family chapel as regally as ever. It was time for her daily prayers.
That morning was a typical example of the humdrum nature of our lives. We were concerned with the social graces, with practicing the dictates of the Russian Church, and with our duties to the tsar. We were oblivious to the incredible forces developing around us. If asked about the strikes among factory workers, we would answer that industrial development in Russia was growing faster than in any other European country. (It was true, but we failed to remember how far behind we were.) We could point out that there had not been any large riots since 1904; but if asked about the plight of the peasants who were immigrating in large numbers into the cities, we would assert that they would be better off staying in the country. (Our own estates were burdened by the loss of laborers.) If asked whether we feared that student anarchists might take subversive action against the government, we would mention that there had not been any assassinations of note in recent times, and anyway, the tsarist investigative agencies were quite active and had agents all over the continent. Every country in Europe was having problems with secret political societies, but we felt of course there was no possibility of revolution. Duty to the tsar was foremost in our minds, and since he was head of the Russian Church, Holy Russia was secure. Next year, the three hundred years of Romanov rule would be celebrated as a miracle from God. How could we have known otherwise?
* * *
What a pleasure it is to remember that wonderful summer at Uncle Sergey's. His estate, Fleur, was aptly named because it was situated in a magnificent forest that stretched along the banks of the Moscow River. The manor house was surrounded by what seemed like acres of flowers. The gardens were always well kept because Uncle, in my opinion, lived only for beauty. The occasional appearance of a statue depicting a Greek or Roman god or goddess presented a pleasant surprise for anyone walking along the many paths of the park. The estate had been created by Sergey and my mother's grandfather, Prince Vladimir Voronsov, during the reign of Alexander I. The chateau, as the family usually referred to the manor house, was a copy of a famous French estate where this grandfather had been a frequent guest.
In the fifteenth century, the Voronsovs were the princely family of a large appanage in central Russia. When those land areas were unified, the titles were kept by the landowners. Generations of Voronsov princes had either served in the government or had managed their properties. Fleur was typical of the estates along the Moscow River outside the great capital city. However, it was not as magnificent as the Usupovs' estate, Arkangleskoe, which was about two miles farther south. It was truly a palace, and we enjoyed ourselves greatly at parties there given by the richest and most beautiful woman in Russia, Princess Zenaide Usupova.
When Mother and I arrived at Fleur one beautiful July day that summer of 1912, the Dashkovs had already arrived. Princess Maria Dashkova, my intended, according to the family, was in the salon when we entered. Uncle Sergey greeted us with much savoir faire and led us over to the other guests. The demure Princess Maria, always so proper and ladylike, faintly smiled at me as her mother, Princess Helena Dashkova, stood and embraced my mother and pinched my cheek. After congratulating me on my success in the Corps des Pages, she began her usual babble in French about one or another spurious bit of gossip. Yet conversation that summer was mainly about the many activities that would be taking place during the Romanov centennial. Princess Dashkova was also a matron of honor to the empress and compared details about particular dresses, receptions, and protocol. Since the two ladies were talking ceaselessly, Uncle Sergey suggested that Maria and I take a stroll in the garden, which we did.
I might have been interested in Maria if she had been a bit unusual. There was that legend about her grandmother being in a romantic tryst with Catherine the Great, but there was nothing of a suspicious nature ever mentioned about Maria in society. She was attractive, with long dark hair and an oval face, but talking with her was impossible. She would only say no or nod yes. A petite smile was also her answer to many questions, which meant she did not really answer at all. You never knew what she truly meant. In other words, I found her boring. And during that walk, I could not help but wonder how I would be able to tolerate a few weeks in her company. However, my salvation was at hand. I did not know that Uncle Sergey had also invited Countess Soiseau.
My discovery of the joy of physical pleasure had occurred one evening at her mansion on the English Embankment, that old section on the Neva River quite near the Winter Palace. I had just delivered some flowers that my mother had sent for the hostess when she appeared in the servants' ward. While she was startled at finding me there, she quickly took me by the arm and escorted me into a small salon connected with her bedroom on the second floor overlooking the Neva. She wore a morning coat of soft, light blue silk with a low décolletage that revealed her fine breasts. When she saw me gazing at them, she pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek. I looked down at that wonderful double softness and started slipping downward. She was practically holding me up, but allowed my face to blend into her wondrous bosom. It was marvelous! I held on to her as she laughed. When I stood up, she maneuvered me toward her Louis XV bed, and we fell into its folds where I kissed her savagely all over. After undressing, I slipped under the sheet that covered her goddess-like body and entered the gates of paradise. I had dreamed of such bliss, but the experience was more incredible than I could ever have imagined.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from For the Tsar and the Rajby Thomas E. Berry Copyright © 2010 by Dr. Thomas E. Berry. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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