Staring back at his son and resigned to accept the probable outcome Mikhail dispassionately said “Let’s see this through to the end then.” Then more animated he continued. “You are blinded by the passions and ignorance of youth. I would much rather see your passion and mistakes be in romantic dalliances that would shame our family name than to see you embroiled in the greater scandal of revolutionary politics. I warn you now that if your revolutionary aspirations ever come to pass they must mirror those of Robespierre and Danton.”

“Robespierre and Danton failed. We will not.” Ivan shot back.

“They sought power above all else. They sought an earthly kingdom instead of the kingdom of God. As a result they served the Devil. Just as your revolution will. As such it must fail.

“Your mystical beliefs have no power over me. Your beliefs are antiquated and have no place in this new century. The Tzar must fall and all power must go to the Soviets!” Ivan placed particular significance in the latter half of his sentence with his voice rising to signal the importance of Soviet power.

“The Tzar is a great man.” Mikhail responded not allowing himself to be drawn into the latest provocation issued from the mouth of his son.

“Then why did someone try to kill him two days ago?”

“That didn’t happen.”

“Then tell me father, tell me what did happen?” Ivan said growing more animated and speaking in a mocking tone.

“It was an accident.”

“Are you trying to say that a soldier didn’t fire his gun directly at the Tzar during his ritualistic waste of time ceremony?”

“The Blessing of the Water always ends with a gun salvo. Unfortunately one of the guns was still loaded.”

“Sounds like someone wanted him dead to me.”

“You are seeing things that aren’t there. If someone wanted the Tzar dead they would have used something other than buckshot.”

“Believe what you want but his days are numbered.”

“At what human cost would you support this revolutionary course? Would you shed innocent blood?“

“Terror? Mass killings?” Ivan paused for a moment to consider the possibility and then continued. “There may be a time for that, if the aristocracy will not bow to the will of the working class. But as Lenin noted in his Iskra article Where to Begin when speaking of terror“ We, therefore, declare emphatically that under the present conditions such a means of struggle is inopportune and unsuitable; that it diverts the most active fighters from their real task.” Now is the time for organizing Father, not terror.”

“You rest your hopes on a criminal? A scoundrel who is expelled from every country he hides in? Where is the false prophet these days? Paris, London?”

“He is in political exile in Geneva. He is prescient. He will return to Russia. But he is not the only person calling for reform. There were and are many great thinkers like Plekhanov or Trotsky. Kropotkin or Bakunin.”

“What great thoughts do these men have?” Mikhail challenged his son to provide an answer.

“I was reading from Bakunin only this morning. I jotted down his words, they are powerful. Listen to this,” Ivan said as a pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket.
“Slavery can change its form and its name—its basis remains the same. This basis is expressed by the words: being a slave is being forced to work for other people—as being a master is to live on the labour of other people. In ancient times, as to-day in Asia and Africa, slaves were simply called slaves. ... to-day they are called “wage-earners”. The position of these latter is much more honourable and less hard than that of slaves, but they are none the less forced by hunger as well as by the political and social institutions, to maintain by very hard work the absolute or relative idleness of others. Consequently, they are slaves.”
You see father these ideas are as clear as day” Ivan said with delight as he folded his paper and placed it back in his pocket.

Mikhail smirked. “That is nonsense, you can read Ivan, you can write, you have a new pair of shoes and you call yourself a slave. You have never lived in true slavery. You were never a serf.”

“We deserve more and we will take it by force if necessary.”

“These thoughts will only lead to suffering.”

“We suffer now!” Ivan yelled before regaining his composure. “Working 12 hour days at the factory for almost nothing. Being held hostage as a wage-slave. This is no way to live. Beholden to a master who will fire you at a whim. I renounce that way of life. I will not die a slave chained to the Putilov Steel Factory floor.”

“Smirnov is an honorable man.”

“He fired 4 of my comrades for no reason. Thus we strike.”

“Tomorrow all will be made right. The Tzar will hear our petition and solve all.”

Shaking his head Ivan said “You can’t seriously believe that.” Ivan felt like pulling his hair out. His father was so delusional.

“I place far more trust in the Tzar and men like Smirnov than I would in Ulyanov or what did you say his name was? Kevin Marx?”

Throwing his hands up in disgust Ivan said “Lenin and Karl, their names are Lenin and Karl. You are a lost cause father.”

“No, I am devoted to my cause and my Tzar will not fail me and neither will my God. I believe Christ when he said Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

“Unbelievable! Work your whole life for nothing and die in this same room with nothing if you want, but I will fight. And I beg you not to drag Svetka down with you.”

“I warn you now. You are going to find yourself in prison. Your revolutionary zeal will not bring you monetary gains. It will leave you bitter and penniless in the end. You will be cast out and forced to rely on the charity of others. Destitute, worn out, and forgotten is where you will end your life.”

“I will not be shackled by the chains of a false society.”

“Nor will you live in my house any longer. I will not permit a treasonous rascal to live under my roof.”

“You will regret this father. When the red flag is waving and we ascend into power I will personally denounce you as a devout monarchist!”

“Leave my house now!”

Ivan stood proudly and stared with a diabolical hatred at his father. Then he smiled as he regained his composure and confidence. As he stood he straightened out his shirt and said “You see father, I am already loosening my chains. I am now free of you and your antiquated ideas.”

“Go now!”

As Ivan reached the door and opened it he turned and said “Oh father I nearly forgot to tell you don’t bring Svetka on the march tomorrow. I would hate to see her get hurt.”

“You revolutionary scoundrel what acts of sabotage do you have planned?”

Ivan laughed. “We have nothing planned any violence will be instigated by the government. But you better believe if the barricades go up I will be there.”

“If you don’t throw your life away tomorrow or end up in prison, you can collect your belongings on Monday.”

“Good evening father, may our paths never cross again.” Ivan tipped his cap and walked into the snowy night with a broad grin on his face.

Mikhail turned out his lamp and wept at his small table. “I have failed him Natasha, oh how I wish you were still here.” As the tears began to pool on the table Mikhail’s mind was racing back to that early spring day in 1902. Food had been scarce but Mikhail had felt like a corner had been turned. They had rationed their food and kept the children fed every day. Mikhail had not realized Natasha had been skipping four out of every five meals. He had been eating one small meal a day but food rations had arrived. The village where they lived was no longer forgotten. As they ate their first true meal in weeks everything seemed joyous. But then Natasha got sick. Her body was too frail to fight and she passed away quickly. The cruelty of her death was painful. Mikhail sold their small plot of land and moved the family to St Petersburg. Ivan took the death the hardest. And now Mikhail would treat Ivan as if he was dead as well. His name would never be spoken again and after Monday he would never be allowed to enter his house again.

Saturday January 8, 1905 - The Office of the Interior Minister Pyotr Dmitrievich Sviatopolk-Mirsky, Saint Petersburg, Russia

“Gentlemen, I believe everyone is here, if you will please be seated we can begin, I don’t think this should take too long.”

“Will Witte be joining us this evening?”

“No, his presence isn’t necessary. This meeting doesn’t require the Chairman of the Committee of Ministers.”

Tristan Andreev surveyed the room as he took his seat near the rear of the room. The first speaker had been Minister of the Interior Pyotr Sviatopolk-Mirsky followed by Prince Vasil’chikov, Commander of the Guard Corps. Andreev also noted the Minister of Justice Nikolai Muraviev, the Minister of Finance Count Vladimir Kokovtsov, and the Governor of the city General Fullon were in attendance. The Chief of Staff of the Military District General Meshetich also was in attendance. There were about 20 others that filled out the room. They appeared to be police or members of the corps of gendarmes.

Andreev watched Sviatopolk-Mirsky take charge of the meeting. Andreev had not spent any time in the presence of Sviatopolk-Mirsky but had heard he was a very intelligent man. He looked at the Minister of the Interior and analyzed his features so that he would be able to spot him in any crowd. Sviatopolk-Mirsky’s hair was cut short, with a pronounced widow’s peak. He had a thick black mustache that overpowered the remainder of his well trimmed goatee that showed signs of greying. The wrinkles on his forehead and under his eyes showed this was a man who had lived through stressful times. Andreev thought he looked slightly older than his age of 47. He would have guessed between 52 and 53 if he didn’t already know his age. It was understandable considering all that Sviatopolk-Mirsky had accomplished. He fought in the Russo-Turkish war, even receiving a military award for his role in the battle of Kars. After his military career Sviatopolk-Mirsky had held various governorships before ascending to the position of Interior Minister. He no doubt had several more years of service left and if he was as intelligent as Andreev had been led to believe he would probably rank among the greatest statesmen of the Romanov dynasty by the time his career ended.

Andreev wondered if his career could take a similar trajectory. He wasn’t in the military but he was seen as a well respected police officer. His boss had sent him as his personal representative for this meeting. A few more years of quality work and he could potentially climb the ranks and then make the switch to politics. He dismissed the thought as foolish, he was not nobility, he wasn’t even part of the aristocracy. His career ambitions were probably capped at precinct captain if everything fell his way. But still he craved for more and he worked hard for something greater than that. His work had been noticed too, he was only 27 years old and sitting in a meeting with prominent members of the bureaucracy. Perhaps it wasn’t too wild to think that one day he could become a Sviatopolk-Mirsky himself. Andreev shook such thoughts from his mind as Sviatopolk-Mirsky began speaking again.

“Gentleman, tomorrow should go fairly smoothly. Once the workers see the military checkpoints they will disperse. This will not be a revolutionary crowd. So this evening we simply need to put the finishing touches on the preparations for tomorrow.”

“Does the government order for martial law need to remain in place?

“No, when I meet with the Tzar this evening I will have him rescind the order.”

Prince Vasil’chikov spoke “until the Tzar actually rescinds the order I will remain in charge and will act accordingly.”

“Until you receive word otherwise you should act accordingly. But I have no doubt that the order will be rescinded tonight.”

“Does anyone feel like martial law is necessary for tomorrow?”

Silence filled the room.

“It sounds like we are all agreed that the regular authorities can handle the situation with the supplement of troops from Pskov and Revel as needed. Moving forward Nikolai, you met with Father Gapon yesterday. Can you provide us with a summary.”

“You must not have gone out last night,” someone quipped from the back of the room.

“I have heard unofficial reports, but it would do us well to have an official recount of the meeting.”

Andreev smiled, he knew that whoever had made the remark was referencing the gossip that had been filling the social circles of Saint Petersburg about the impertinence of Father Gapon.

“It is easy to crack jokes and laugh but I will tell you right now I do not trust Gapon.” Minister of Justice Nikolai Muraviev stated.

“It is easy to distrust people who insult you,” someone else retorted.

“Let’s maintain our professional decorum. Muraviev please recount your meeting.”

As Andreev listened he was amazed at the lack of tension in the room. Based on what he had heard and seen on the streets during the past week there were reports of up to 200,000 workers who were planning on marching to the palace. Surely there should have been more apprehension or gravity about the situation at hand. But then again these men had been through strikes and worker discontent before. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about. But there was something different about the leader of The Assembly of Russian Factory and Mill Workers; pFather Gergorii Gapon. He had an intoxicating presence among the workers. If he wanted them to march they would march. Police and military presence or not. If Andreev didn’t know better he probably would have sympathized with Father Gapon and his cause.

“Yesterday afternoon Gapon and I met.” Muraviev began. “He wanted me to read his petition that he wanted to present to the Tzar. I declined the invitation to read his petition. I informed him that his procession was illegal and that it would not be allowed to enter the city center. I further informed him that the Tzar would not be in Saint Petersburg on Sunday. This did not appear to have any impact. I don’t know what the workers see in him. He is an unimpressive man, unfit to serve in the church. His socialist program must be shut down.”