Holy Roman Empire Chapter 1046 - Scandals and Monarchical Factors

                        



        The appointment of a royal prince as governor of a colony should have been major news. Unfortunately, it was completely overshadowed by a far bigger event.         On May 18, 1896, Nicholas II held a grand public festival at Khodynka Field, just outside Moscow. As tradition dictated, the Tsar planned to distribute gifts to the people.         What was supposed to be a joyous celebration turned into a disaster that would haunt his reign. Somehow, word of the gifts spread early, and before the event even began, the news had spread across the entire empire.         Crowds from all over Russia flooded to Khodynka Field. In an area of less than nine square kilometers, over half a million people gathered.         The worst part was that the ground had not been properly leveled; it was full of uneven patches, pits, and ditches. The bureaucrats responsible for organizing the event took no safety precautions whatsoever.         As soon as the event began, chaos erupted. Driven by some instigators, the crowd surged forward, crushing people in the front. Over a thousand were killed and tens of thousands injured. What should have been a joyful festival turned into a great tragedy.         The worst, however, was yet to come. Officials concealed the true scale of the disaster. Unaware of the tragedy, Nicholas II carried on with the scheduled celebration banquet that evening.         When the truth came out, all of Europe turned its fury on him. The press branded him with every label imaginable—“cruel,” “barbaric,” “tyrant.” Every accusation was thrown at the Tsar.         By the time Nicholas realized what had happened, it was too late. The official responsible for organizing the event committed suicide out of guilt, and others involved vanished.         With no clear leads and only a few minor scapegoats caught, Nicholas had no choice but to bear the full blame.         Even though compensation was later given to the victims, the damage to his reputation was irreversible. The stain could not be erased so easily.         Nicholas II became known as Europe’s number one “tyrant.” The media fixated on the “Khodynka Tragedy,” and public attention was completely drawn to it.         The news of the prince’s appointment as colonial governor, which might otherwise have drawn attention, now barely made a ripple. Aside from a few politicians, the public showed no interest at all.         Despite having his plans overshadowed, Franz felt no displeasure. In a sense, every monarch in Europe owed Nicholas II a medal of gratitude.         Without comparison, there can be no contrast—and now, with the Tsar as a negative example, European citizens suddenly realized their own monarchs were not so bad after all.         Even in politically unstable Spain, the domestic situation began to improve. Practically overnight, Spaniards concluded that having a baby on the throne was not such a bad idea after all.         At least, a child’s “destruction” was limited to throwing milk bottles, and Spain could easily afford that kind of loss.         While most Europeans watched the scandal with glee, Nicholas II was driven to the brink of rage. To appease the public, the Prime Minister had already resigned, but that was not enough. Until the real culprits were found, the matter could not be laid to rest.         “Useless!”         “They are all useless!”         “Every single one of them—”                 Faced with the Tsar’s furious outburst, everyone in the room lowered their heads. There was nothing they could say, because Nicholas II was right to be angry.         Such a massive scandal had unfolded right under their noses, and no one could even say who was responsible. What else could they be called but useless?         Of course, the ministers were indeed useless, but a Tsar who had been so easily manipulated by others was not much better. Whether he had been schemed against or not, the label of “incompetent” was one Nicholas could never escape.         In the years to come, unless he accomplished something truly great to prove his worth, history would forever remember him as the incapable Tsar.         Sensing the tension in the room, Sergei Witte, newly appointed as Prime Minister, forced himself to speak: “Your Majesty, what’s done is done. The most urgent matter now is to manage the aftermath. Compensation alone will not be enough. We must take stronger measures to restore your reputation, otherwise ambitious men will seize the opportunity.”         Since the Khodynka Tragedy, Nicholas II’s prestige had plummeted to its lowest point. If not for the strong foundation left behind by his predecessors, the Russian government’s authority might already have begun to crumble.         Ironically, it was precisely because the former Tsars had performed so brilliantly that Nicholas now looked so pitiful in comparison.         His great-grandfather Nicholas I had accomplished little in domestic governance, but his military victories more than compensated for it. He defeated the combined forces of Britain, France, and the Ottoman Empire, reclaimed the holy city of Constantinople, and fulfilled the centuries-old dream of the Russian people.         For that achievement alone, Nicholas I became one of the most revered rulers in Russian history. To this day, he was remembered as Nicholas the Great.         His grandfather Alexander II was no less remarkable. Though his reign began with a crushing military defeat, he endured the humiliation and rebuilt his nation.         In the end, he not only avenged that loss but also reformed the serf system and pulled the declining empire back from the edge of collapse. His political achievements alone earned him eternal respect.         Then came his father, Alexander III, whose reign was far more balanced. He wasn’t as exceptional as the two before him, but he ruled wisely enough to maintain stability and ensure steady national growth.         His military record was respectable as well. He joined forces with Austria to destroy the Ottoman Empire, subdued tribes in Central Asia, and fought the British, though without total victory. Still, history would remember him as a good Tsar.         And then there was Nicholas II. Since ascending the throne, he had done nothing of significance. Before he could even make his mark, disaster struck, leaving him buried under a mountain of blame.         Now, before his reputation could be restored, he was powerless to do anything.         Nicholas II finally asked bitterly, “And how exactly do we restore it? We have already explained everything to the diplomats. We’ve told the people that this was all the work of our enemies. Isn’t that enough?”         There was nothing to be done. Anger had a way of clouding one’s judgment, burning away reason until only impulse remained.         Still consumed by fury, Nicholas II spoke without thinking, his words tumbling out before his mind could catch up.         Sergei Witte frowned and sighed helplessly, “Your Majesty, the people lack the ability to discern the truth. Those who plotted such a large conspiracy are unlikely to stop here.         If we fail to take proper precautions, our enemies will find new opportunities to strike. A mere explanation is not enough. You must show the people that you are close to them and that their Tsar truly cares.”         It was clear that Witte was struggling as well.         If the enemy continued to stir trouble openly, that would actually make things easier. The government was already on high alert. Once the perpetrators acted again, they would inevitably leave behind traces that could be followed.         The real danger was if the culprits vanished into the shadows, waiting patiently for their next chance. If that happened, tracking them down would become nearly impossible.                 While Nicholas II fretted over how to restore his damaged reputation, the monarchs of Europe were equally terrified.         If he had not been the one to step on this metaphorical landmine first, any of them could have fallen victim to a similar disaster. The thought alone was enough to make them break into a cold sweat.         In the Vienna Palace, Franz allowed himself a quiet sense of relief. He had kept a low profile and avoided extravagant public celebrations. If such a disaster had struck at the beginning of his reign, it would have been ruinous. Even surviving politically would have scarred him deeply.         That said, Franz’s stature was now well established. His careful image had taken root. A little mud thrown his way would not stick.         Besides, an incident like the Khodynka Tragedy could not have happened in the Holy Roman Empire. Every time the Austrian government staged a celebration, military police lined the streets. Anyone attempting to cause trouble would be arrested before they could act.         The empire taught order from the earliest years of compulsory education.         That did not guarantee zero accidents, but with armed forces and police maintaining order, a mass stampede would be nearly impossible.         When everyone follows the rules, the few who do not become glaringly obvious and are quickly removed.         Lessons must be learned. Franz tapped the armrest of his chair and looked at Frederick and asked, “What do you think of Nicholas II’s disaster?”         Time had flown. In a blink, the Russian Empire had passed through three reigns, and Nicholas II was now the fourth Tsar.         It was not hard to understand why. The previous three Tsars had been older than Franz, and sudden deaths and attempted assassinations were common.         Being a Tsar was a dangerous business. Franz knew that Nicholas I, Alexander II, and Alexander III had all narrowly escaped assassination more than once.         On average, each had faced three-digit numbers of attempts. Only a very strong mind could endure such pressure.         Perhaps the Romanov line bore a curse. Since Nicholas I, each Tsar had been wounded by assassins, and Alexander II had even been killed by one.         After a moment of thought, Frederick replied slowly, “They were set up so thoroughly, and they do not even know who did it. It shows the Russian government has decayed. The once proud Russian Empire is gone. It resembles an old man whose strength fades day by day. If nothing unexpected happens, I do not think we need to worry about the eastern front for a long time.”         His tone held scorn, but also a hint of satisfaction. To Frederick, Russia’s decline was good news.         Franz smiled faintly, but did not comment directly as he said, “It is not surprising that they cannot find the perpetrators. The masterminds probably did not expect things to blow up so badly.         From what is visible, the initial goal was merely to create chaos, to disrupt the celebration and teach Nicholas II a lesson.         No one foresaw a mass stampede. When events spun out of control, those behind it naturally tried to hide.         Perhaps the plotters are within the Tsar’s own circle. If the government is left to investigate itself, there will be no results.         If Nicholas had the nerve, he could cleanse Moscow’s bureaucracy, nobility, and capitalists, and he would find useful clues.         The local power brokers cannot hide everything. Getting half a million people into that field without their cooperation would not be easy.         Now imagine you were in his place. What would you do?”         After a pause, Frederick answered sharply, “Use this as an excuse to send troops into the Moscow region, arrest the troublemakers and make an example of them to restore authority. If things go well, use that opening to push through reforms that Alexander II failed to complete.”         A full-scale purge was unrealistic. The issue was not bravado; Nicholas II had just come to the throne and lacked the prestige to command unquestioned obedience.         The army might obey the Tsar’s orders in name, but whether they would carry them out fully was uncertain.         Moscow was Russia’s great metropolis after Saint Petersburg, and the local power holders wielded enormous influence. Picking off a few agitators to set an example might be possible, but a total cleansing would be beyond reach.         A monarch could lack many things, but never prestige. If you cannot gain universal respect, you must make people fear you instead.         In politics, establishing authority sometimes mattered more than finding the true culprits. Whether the investigation succeeded or failed, the appearance of action could be enough.         Once suspicion could be cast widely, enemies of the Tsar became convenient targets. Later, one could settle scores in due course.         Even if mistakes were made and the wrong people were punished, it would be framed as striking down enemies, so unintended harm would be dismissed.

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