The hot, close morning, the sun blazing on the Nevsky Prospekt, the flags at the mastheads, and the troops in their gay uniforms gave a suggestion of a gala day but not its positive affirmation. Around the Winter Palace was a strong guard of police and troops, with a curious motley crowd waiting outside the lines.
Between ten and eleven o╒clock guests began to drive up, now a general or official bedizened with orders in his carriage, now a peasant or two in battered caps and dark smock frocks in a ramshackle old droshky. The Winter Palace is receiving unfamiliar guests to-day, and the pompous servants in the cool corridors look as though they resent the invasion.
At twelve the large Throne-hall was entered by red-coated senators, chamberlains blazing with gold braid, generals, admirals, and officials of various Ministries in blue, red and gold. They sauntered to their places on the right of the throne amid a low hum of conversation.
Marshals hurry to and fro giving final directions, priests bring in a lectern, and gradually the right side of the hall is filled with dazzling uniforms, whose brightness is relieved only by the sober dress suits of the recently elected members of the Council of the Empire.
The clergy, in their gilded robes, headed by the Metropolitan and supported by the choir, take up a position near the lectern. The Court ladies in quaint Russian costumes of soft colours walk to the throne at the end of the hall. The bureaucracy is here in full force.
Now enter the representatives of the people, three hundred strong. They form a dark mass; some in dress suits, some in frock coats, peasants in dark smoke frocks, many in ordinary jackets ╤ types of sturdy, uncompromising democracy. The Duma members took up a position on the left of the throne, and the hostile armies stood face to face.
A long, long pause, and then uneasy questions ╤ ╥Has he come?╙ ╥Is he delayed?╙ But he had come. He had arrived at ten in the morning in a pinnace from Peterhof, and presently the hum of conversation suddenly ceased.
From the distant hall came the strains of the Emperor╒s Hymn. The forerunners of the procession appeared, then the bearers of the sceptre, the orb, and the sword of the Empire, and finally in the green uniform of an officer of the Preobrazhenski Guards ╤ the Emperor, walking with a solemn stately step.
With him were the Empress and the Empress Dowager, both in white gold-flecked robes, with long trains and veils flowing down over the shoulders. The Grand Dukes followed, and the procession stopped before the Metropolitan, who gave his blessing. The courtiers and officials bowed low before the Emperor; the Duma members for the most part gave no sign of emotion.
After a service of sweet and solemn music the Empresses and Grand Dukes advanced to the front of the hall, leaving the Emperor alone with a page. After a dramatic pause he advanced slowly to the throne and took his seat; then, rising, he read in a strong, clear voice from the paper handed to him by the Minister of the Court, a speech of welcome to the representatives of the people.
