Mid-November, a Few Days After Nicholas II's Modest Wedding.
According to the original plan, Nicholas and Empress Alexandra should have been on their honeymoon in Tsarskoye Selo, 24 kilometers south of Saint Petersburg, but pressing state affairs had forced a delay.
Today, the Emperor was scheduled to receive the full members and chairman of the State Council for the first time at Anichkov Palace.
In 1810, Emperor Alexander I had established the State Council as a legislative advisory body composed of high-ranking nobles and officials.
In theory, all laws required the State Council's discussion before being submitted to the Emperor for approval.
However, the council's decisions were limited to deliberations prompted by the Emperor, presenting two possible solutions supported by the majority and minority factions, from which the Emperor could choose either one.
But this raised a question: what was the difference between the State Council and the Council of Ministers and the Committee of Ministers?
Administratively, a decree needing the Tsar's formal approval and issuance during Alexander III's reign followed a process like this:
First, a minister would submit a draft to the Committee of Ministers for discussion, followed by several revisions and approval.
Next, the decree would be reviewed and amended by the State Council.
Finally, once the State Council agreed, the final draft would be submitted to the Tsar for his signature and enactment.
However, this was only in theory. In practice, neither the ministers nor the Emperor strictly followed these procedures, as the functions of the three bodies overlapped, similar to other Russian departments.
As a result, any decree took years to navigate the bureaucratic maze before gaining formal approval.
Russia's bureaucratic system was an overgrown, inefficient machine, but it was advantageous for centralized control by the Emperor.
However, times were changing. If Russia's train continued its sluggish pace, the driver might need replacing.
"Why is he here?"
The attendees naturally included all current ministers, and Witte was among those present.
While Nicholas expressed his condolences for his late father to his many ministers, Witte noticed an unexpected presence among the State Council members being received.
Alexander Abaza.
He had once been a member of the State Council, serving in the Ministry of State Assets and the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and was also a high-ranking bureaucrat.
"I didn't expect to see him after what happened."
"Yes, yes, I thought he was living in Monte Carlo."
Monte Carlo, a city in Monaco, was famous for its casinos.
A few murmurs went around as others noticed Abaza's return to the political scene.
Abaza had a penchant for gambling and speculation. During Alexander III's reign, his insider trading activities were exposed, leading to his dismissal by the enraged Emperor.
Seeing Abaza back in the State Council made Witte uneasy.
Witte had initially been the one to report Abaza's misconduct.
At first, Witte believed Abaza's return was due to his close relationship with Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolayevich, the Chairman of the State Council, possibly through the Duke's influence.
However, the Chairman was known to be a kind man, so Witte later suspected Alexander Polovtsov, the State Secretary, of persuading Nicholas II to reinstate Abaza, as the two were friends.
Witte's concern wasn't about Abaza's reinstatement itself, but the potential implication that the accusations leading to Abaza's dismissal were unfounded.
Rumors had circulated within the State Council that Witte had framed Abaza, prompting Witte to request Alexander III establish a special investigative committee, led by the respected Bunge, to uncover the truth.
The investigation confirmed that Witte's allegations were accurate and that Abaza had indeed engaged in fraudulent securities speculation.
Did Emperor Nicholas know about this?
Witte was unsure, but Abaza's return to the State Council could reignite those rumors, causing Witte to miss much of Nicholas's speech.
The meeting at Anichkov Palace was more ceremonial, with no actual discussion.
After the reception, Witte quickly submitted a memorial to Nicholas II, briefly explaining Abaza's past and why he had been dismissed during the previous reign.
"Your Majesty, if you have any doubts about this matter, you can ask Bunge, who is fully aware of all the details."
"Oh, dear Witte, I trust you."
Nicholas, after calmly reading Witte's memorial, stood and patted Witte's broad, slightly stooped shoulders.
"I'm more concerned about the memorial I asked you to draft earlier."
"Well, Your Majesty, I need more time to consider it thoroughly. I know you are eager to promote Russia's development, but this requires careful planning, especially since it has only been a month since the late Emperor's passing."
Though Witte coveted the position of joint chairman of the Council of Ministers, he maintained his composure, advising Nicholas that this matter could not be rushed.
"I have my considerations, Witte, but I appreciate your counsel. My father also valued your abilities."
Nicholas was unaware of Abaza's past and had made a mistake.
As Witte suspected, it was Polovtsov who had influenced this decision. He had subtly suggested to the young Emperor that a capable official was waiting for his appointment. When Nicholas inquired further, Polovtsov downplayed Abaza's blemishes, emphasizing his skills needed by the Emperor.
Nicholas, still trusting people, agreed hastily based on the polished information he received.
This incident made Nicholas realize his ministers were not mere obedient NPCs; they all had their interests and motives.
He thought he could handle it, but without Witte's honest report, he would have remained in the dark.
How could he manage politics surrounded by such deceitful individuals?
Afterward, Nicholas verified Witte's statements through documents preserved in the Ministry of Finance's credit office and a detailed report by Deputy Director Petrov, which confirmed the findings of the investigation into Abaza.
"This matter is my failure, Your Majesty."
Before Nicholas could confront him, the Secretary of State, Polovtsev, a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and dressed in a sharp suit, preemptively bowed his head and admitted his fault.
However, he still defended his actions, claiming they were entirely for the benefit of the Emperor and the country.
"I heard that Abaza is a close friend of yours?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty, but I recommended Abaza based on his merit, adhering to the principles of law and order. His so-called 'blemishes' do not overshadow his talents."
Polovtsev repeatedly emphasized that he had no ulterior motives.
What angered Nicholas was that he had agreed to something under partial information—a decision he wouldn't have made if he had known the full truth. He felt a strong urge to throw the document in Polovtsev's face and yell, "I want what I think, not what you think, got it?"
Unfortunately, Nicholas refrained from such an outburst.
Every high-ranking official in Russia had a network of intricate connections. If Nicholas berated Polovtsev in his office, word would quickly spread throughout St. Petersburg's bureaucracy and high society. The speed at which these officials spread rumors rivaled that of gossipy village women.
Nicholas wanted to establish a good image at the start of his reign, which was crucial for his upcoming reforms.
If he frequently lost his temper, these cunning bureaucrats would become even more deceitful and evasive.
Why did Nicholas think this way?
In his previous life as a junior employee, he saw how superiors treated mistakes and problem reports from subordinates as signs of incompetence. This led everyone to hide problems and only report good news.
But the real world didn't change because of these distortions. The department's issues accumulated, unsolved, while the leadership wondered why things got worse despite seeming fine.
"Thank you for your assistance, but next time, you should provide more comprehensive information. I will carefully consider your suggestions."
Feeling somewhat frustrated, Nicholas forgave Polovtsev's admission with a gentle response.
The Secretary of State, relieved, repeatedly expressed his sincere desire to serve the Emperor.
After this, another incident raised Nicholas's blood pressure.
General Gurko, after the ceremony where Nicholas met the military officers, requested a private audience to address a matter concerning his son's appointment as head of the office under the Governor of Warsaw.
Joseph Vladimirovich Gurko, who had distinguished himself in the Russo-Turkish War, had been the Governor of the Vistula Land and Commander of the Warsaw Military District since 1883, and a member of the State Council since 1886.
General Gurko's son worked in his office, and he wanted to appoint him as head of the office. However, the Interior Minister, Durnovo, had not approved this appointment, causing Gurko much frustration.
Seizing the opportunity of meeting the young Emperor Nicholas II in St. Petersburg, General Gurko firmly and sharply stated that if Nicholas did not appoint his son, he would resign.
Who are these people?
Nicholas's temper flared. Such behavior was rude by any standard of etiquette.
He wanted to reject the request outright.
But he couldn't be so rash.
"Calm down first, please. Take your time to explain."
After taking a deep breath, Nicholas instructed his attendants to bring two chairs. They sat in the corridor of Anichkov Palace, talking slowly.
Perhaps the cold winter temperature of St. Petersburg cooled General Gurko's temper. The bearded old general realized his earlier outburst was inappropriate and immediately stood up, bowing to apologize to Nicholas.
Nicholas nodded, and their conversation became more relaxed.
However, Gurko still insisted on Nicholas approving the appointment.
"Why did Ivan Durnovo reject the appointment?"
"Because... because my son made some minor mistakes... Everyone makes mistakes, right, Your Majesty?"
Nicholas's inquiry made Gurko's previously confident speech falter. It turned out that young Gurko had a notorious reputation for accepting bribes.
"Your son's corruption and embezzlement came to light. This is a clear violation of Russian law..."
"Indeed, Your Majesty, but my son has reformed his character!"
An anxious General Gurko interrupted Nicholas, his intent to secure a position for his son evident.
"A mistake is still a mistake, and no one can deny the facts, right?"
"Yes... He will never do it again, I swear to God."
"I understand your position, but as Emperor, I must adhere to the law. I need to discuss this with my ministers."
"Your Majesty, I need your assurance. Otherwise, I... cough, Your Majesty, you know how much I love my son."
How would I know? I despise nepotism.
Nicholas smiled politely, but inwardly he was annoyed.
Still, he patiently reassured General Gurko, promising to give him a satisfactory answer.
General Gurko bowed repeatedly to Emperor Nicholas II, exclaiming praises.
Gurko's audience with Nicholas, combined with the earlier incident involving Polovtsev, undoubtedly exacerbated Nicholas's mental exhaustion. He had never imagined that being an autocratic emperor would require such patience in dealing with these social niceties.
Damn it, what a nuisance.
Returning to his office, Nicholas was immediately overwhelmed by the towering stacks of documents on his desk. Most were trivial approvals that no one else had bothered to handle, all piling up on Nicholas's desk.
To hell with it, I'll deal with it next year.
Nicholas decided to slack off a bit.
As December approached and the Russian government prepared for the New Year holiday, no one blamed Nicholas for shirking his duties. Everyone was ready to slack off and enjoy the holidays.
After all the audiences and diplomatic ceremonies were concluded, a physically and mentally exhausted Nicholas chose to take a train to Tsarskoye Selo to spend the end of 1894 on his honeymoon.