Through the winter and spring of 1918 I continued to receive letters and
parcels, mostly contraband, from my friends in Siberia. I wish I dared
to tell how and through whom these precious messages reached me, for it
all belongs in the story of Revolutionary Russia. It illustrates the
truth, often demonstrated, that tyranny and oppression can never kill
the spirit of freedom in human beings. There are always a minority of
people who hold their lives cheap by comparison with liberty, and in
such people lives deathlessly the inspiration of fidelity to those they
love, no matter how relentlessly the loved ones are persecuted. Poor as
I was, poor as was the small group of friends who worked with me to
communicate with the Imperial Family, we managed to get to them the
necessities they lacked. Dangerous and difficult as travel was in those
days, every traveler being almost certain to be searched several times
along the way, there were three, two officers and a young girl, who at
the risk of imprisonment and death by the most unspeakable tortures,
calmly and fearlessly acted as emmissaries back and forth between
Petrograd and remote Tobolsk. They had friends along the way, of course,
but how they managed, through months of constant peril, to carry on
their work is one of those mysteries which, to my mind, are not wholly
earthly.
On January 9, 1918, I received the following Christmas letter from the
Empress.
Thank you, darling, for all your letters which were a great joy to
me and to us all. On Christmas Eve I received the letter and the
perfume, then more scent by little ----. I regret not having seen
her. Did you receive the parcels sent through the several friends,
flour, coffee, tea, and lapscha (a kind of macaroni)? The letters
and the snapshots sent through ----, did you get them? I am worried
as I hear that all parcels containing food are opened. I begin
today to number my letters, and you must keep account of them. Your
cards, the small silver dish, and Lili’s tiny silver bell I have
not yet been able to receive.
We all congratulate you on your name day. May God bless, comfort,
strengthen you, and give you joy. Believe, dear, that God will yet
save our beloved country. He will not be unforgiving. Think of the
Old Testament and the sufferings of the Children of Israel for
their sins. And now it is we who have forgotten God, and that is
why they[17] cannot bring any happiness. How I prayed on the 6th
that God would send the spirit of good judgment and the fear of the
Lord. Everyone apparently have lost their heads. The reign of
terror is not yet over, and it is the sufferings of the innocent
which nearly kills us. What do people live on now that everything
is taken from them, their homes, their incomes, their money? We
must have sinned terribly for our Father in Heaven to punish so
frightfully. But I firmly and unfalteringly believe that in the end
He will save us. The strange thing about the Russian character is
that it can so suddenly change to evil, cruelty, and unreason, and
can as suddenly change back again. This is in fact simply want of
character. Russians are in reality big, ignorant children. However
it is well known that during long wars all bad passions flame up.
What is happening is awful, the murders, the persecutions, the
imprisonments, but all of it must be suffered if we are to be
cleansed, new born.
Forgive me, darling, that I write to you so sadly. I often wear
your jackets, the blue and the mauve, as it is fearfully cold in
the house. Outside the frosts are not often severe, and sometimes I
go out and even sit on the balcony. The children are just
recovering from scarletina, except Anastasie, who did not catch it.
The elder ones began the new year by being in bed, Marie, of
course, having a temperature of 39.5. Their hair is growing well.
Lessons have begun again. Yesterday I gave three. Today I am free,
and am therefore writing. On the 2nd of January I thought of you
and sent a candle to be set before the Holy Seraphim. I have asked
that prayers may be said in the cathedral where the relics lie, for
all our dear ones. You remember the old pilgrim who came to
Tsarskoe Selo. Fancy that he has been here. He wandered in with his
big staff, and sent me a prosvera (holy bread).
I have begun your books. The style is quite different from the
others. I have got myself some good books, too, but have not much
time for reading. I embroider, knit, draw, and give lessons, but my
eyes are getting weaker so that I can no longer work without
glasses. You will see me quite an old woman! Did you know that the
marine officer Nicolai Demenkoff has appendicitis? He is in Odessa.
One of our wounded, Oroborjarsky, was operated on there a month
ago. He is so sad and homesick, so far away. I correspond with his
mother, a gentle, good, and really Christian soul. Lili Dehn went
to see her.
I trust you received the painted cards that I put in the parcel of
provisions. Not all were successful. If you receive my letters just
write, thanks for No. I, etc. My three maids and Isa are still not
allowed to come to us, and they are very much distressed, just
sitting idle. But ---- is of better use on the outside. Little one,
where are your brother Serge and his wife? I know nothing of them.
Your poor sister Alya, I hope she is not too sad; she has friends,
but her husband, has he not become too sad away from her? How are
the sweet children? Miss Ida is with her still, I hope. Did you
know that sister Grekova is to be married soon to Baron Taube? How
glad I am that you have seen A. P. Did he not seem strange out of
uniform, and what did he say about his brother? Ah, all is past,
and will never return. We must begin a new life and forget self. I
must finish, my dear little soul. Christ be with you. Greetings to
all. I kiss your mother. I congratulate you again. I want quickly
to finish the small painting, and get it to you. I fear you are
again passing through fearful days. Reports filter through of
murders of officers in Sevastopol. Rodionoff and his brother are
there.
Your own, A.
On the 16th of January the Empress wrote me a letter in Old Slavonic
style to congratulate me on my name day. In this she addresses me as
“Sister Seraphine.” I should explain that my hospital in Tsarskoe Selo
bore the name of that saint, because it was on her day that I suffered
the terrible railway accident which left me lamed for life, but which
gave me, in damages, the funds for founding the hospital.
Dearly beloved Sister Seraphine:
From a full heart I wish you well on your name day! God send you
many blessings, good health, fortitude, meekness, strength to bear
all punishments and sorrows sent by God, and gladness of soul. May
the sun lighten the path you tread through life, warm all by your
love, and let your light shine forth these sad, gloomy days. Do not
despair, suffering sister,
[Illustration: ONE OF THE EMPRESS’S LAST LETTERS, WRITTEN IN OLD
SLAVONIC TO MME. VIROUBOVA IN 1918.]
[Illustration: SMUGGLED LETTER FROM THE EMPRESS TO MME. VIROUBOVA
WRITTEN IN OLD SLAVONIC ON BIRCH-BARK AFTER PAPER GAVE OUT.]
God will hear your prayers, all in good time. Also we pray for
thee, sister chosen of the Lord. We have thee in fond remembrance.
Your little corner is far away from us. All who love thee in this
place send greetings. Do not misjudge the bad writing of thy
sister. She is illiterate, an ailing lay sister. I am learning the
writing of prayers, but weakness of sight prevents my striving. I
read the works of Bishop Gr. Nissky, but he writes too much of the
creation of the world. From our sister Zinaida I have received
news, so much good will in every word, breathing peace of the soul.
The family known to thee are in good health, the children have
suffered from the usual ills of the young, but are now restored to
health. The youngest ill, but in good spirits however, and without
suffering. The Lord has blessed the weather, beautiful and soft.
Thy sister walks out and enjoys the sun, but when there is more
frost she hides in her cell, takes a stocking, puts on her
spectacles, and knits. Sister Sophia,[18] not long since arrived,
has not been granted admittance, those in authority having refused
it. She has found hospitality at the priest’s with her old woman.
The other sisters are all in different places. Dearly loved sister,
art thou not weary reading this letter? All the others have gone to
dinner. I remain on guard by the sick Anastasia. In the cells next
ours is sister Catherina[19] giving a lesson. We are embroidering
for church, Sisters Tatiana and Maria with great zeal. Our father
Nicholas gathers us around him in the evenings, and reads to us
while we pass the time with needlework. With his meekness and good
health he does not disdain to saw and chop wood for our needs,
cleans the roads, too, with the children. Our mother Alexandra
greets thee, sister, and sends her motherly blessings and hopes,
sister, that thou livest in the Spirit of Christ. Life is hard but
the spirit is strong. Dear sister Seraphine, may God keep thee. I
beg for your prayers. Christ be with thee.
The Sinful sister FEODORA.
Prayers!
22 of January.
So unexpectedly I received the letter of the 1st and the card of
the 10th. I hasten to reply. Tenderly we thank through you
Karochinsky. Really it is touching that even now we are not
forgotten. God grant that his estates should be spared. God bless
him. I am sending you some food but I do not know if it will ever
reach you. Often we think of you. I wrote to you on the 16th
through the hospital, on the 17th a card by Mr. Gibbs, and on the
9th two letters by ----. There! I have dropped my favorite pen and
broken it. How provoking! It is fearfully cold, 29 degrees, 7 in
the bathroom, and blowing in from everywhere. Such a wind, but they
are all out. We hope to see the officer Tamarov if only from a
distance. So glad you received everything. I hope you wear the gray
shawl, and that it smells of vervaine, a well-remembered scent.
Kind Zinoschka found it in Odessa, and sent it to me.
I am so surprised you have made the acquaintance of Gorky. He was
awful formerly. Disgusting and immoral books and plays he wrote.
Can it be the same man? How he fought against father and Russia
when he lived in Italy. Be careful, my love. I am so glad you can
go to church. To us it is forbidden, so service is at home, and a
new priest serves. How glad I am that all is well with Serge. With
Tina it will be difficult, but God will help her. It is true what
they say about Marie Rebinder’s husband? She wrote me, through Isa,
that they are still in Petrograd, and that they threatened to kill
him. It is difficult to understand people now. Sometimes they are
with the Bolshevists outwardly, but in their hearts they are
against them.
The cross we hung over the children’s beds during their illness but
during church service it lies on the table. Bishop Gerogene serves
special prayers daily for father and mother--he is quite on their
side, which is strange. I must hurry as one waits to take this
letter. I am sending you a prayer I wrote on a piece of birchbark
we cut. I can’t draw much as my eyes are so bad, also my fingers
are quite stiff from cold. Such a wind, and it blows so in the
rooms. I am sending you a little image of the Holy Virgin. Thanks
for the lovely prayer. I wear often the jackets you gave me. I send
you all my soul-prayers and love. I believe firmly so I am quite
calm. We are all your own and kiss you tenderly.
On the same day Grand Duchess Olga wrote a brief note.
Dearest, we were so glad to hear from you. How cold it is these
days, and what a strong wind. We have just come back from a walk.
On our window it is written--“Anna darling----” I wonder who wrote
it. God bless you, dear. Be well.
Your OLGA.
Give my love to all who remember me.
Two other notes from Olga followed in February and just before Easter.
Darling, with all my loving heart I am with you these hard days for
you. God help and comfort you, my darling. On Mamma’s table stands
the mauve bottle you sent her and which reminds us so much of you.
There is much sun, but great frosts also and winds, and very cold
in the rooms, especially in our corner room, where we live as
before. All are well, and we walk much in the yard. There are many
churches around here, so we are always hearing bells ringing. God
bless you, darling. How sad your brother and sister are not with
you.
Your own OLGA.
We all congratulate you tenderly with the coming Easter, and wish
you to spend it as peacefully as anyone can now. I always think of
you when they sing during mass the prayer we used to sing together
on the yacht. I kiss you.
OLGA.
The other children also wrote me at this time. Grand Duchess Tatiana
wrote two short but characteristic notes, the first one on my name day,
January 12. In all these letters it will be seen how confidently the
family looked forward to a future of freedom and happiness. This
constant optimism in the midst of ever-increasing surveillance and
cruelty is my excuse for including notes of slight general interest.
Tatiana wrote first:
“You remember the cozy evenings by the fireside? How nice it was.
Did you again see Groten and Linevitch? (the faithful
aides-de-camp). Well, good-bye, my darling Annia. God bless you.
Good-bye--till when?
Your T.
Also--
My beloved darling. How happy we are to get news from you. I hope
you got my letters. I think often of you and pray God to keep you
from all harm and help you. I am glad you know the Eristoffs now.
We get such good letters from Zina, she writes so well. There are
many sadnesses in these days. God be with you. It is very cold.
Papa wears his Cossack uniform and we remember how much you liked
it. I kiss you tenderly, and love you, and congratulate you on your
dear name day.
T.
From the Grand Duchess Marie Nicolaevna.
Good morning, my darling! What a long time since I have written to
you, and how glad I was to get your little letter. It is very sad
we don’t see each other, but God will arrange for us to meet, and
what joy it will be then. We live in the house where you have been.
Do you remember the rooms? They are quite comfortable when a little
arranged. We walk out twice every day. Some of the people here are
kind. Every day I remember you, and love you very much. Mr. Gibbs
gave us photographs he made of you--it was so nice to have them.
Your perfumes remind us so much of you. I wish you every blessing
from God, and kiss you tenderly. Don’t be sad. Love to all yours.
Your loving MARIE.
My darling beloved, how are you? We are all well, walk much in the
yard, and have a little hill down which we can slide. There is much
frost these days so Mama sits at home. You will probably get this
in February, so I congratulate you on your name day. God help you
in future and bless you. We always remember and speak of you. May
God guard all your ways. Don’t be sad, dear. All will be well, and
we shall be together again. I kiss you tenderly.
MARIE.
Alexei wrote that same month of January, 1918:
My darling Annia. We are so glad to have news from you, and to hear
that you got all our things. Today there are 29 degrees of frost, a
strong wind, and sunshine. We walked, and I went on skees in the
yard. Yesterday I acted with Tatiana and Gilik a French piece. We
are now preparing another piece. We have a few good soldiers with
whom I play games in their rooms. Kolia Deravenko comes to me on
holidays. Nagorini, the sailor, sleeps with me. As servants we have
Wolkoff, Sednoff, Troup, and Chemoduroff. It is time to go to
lunch. I kiss and embrace you. God bless you.
ALEXEI.
The remaining letters from the Empress, dating from the end of January
to the last days of April, 1918, are uncomplaining, yet are full of
suffering and the prescience of tragic events to come. I do not believe
that the Empress ever lost faith in the ultimate happiness of her
beloved family, but her keen mind fully comprehended the terrible march
of events in the torn Empire, and she knew that trials and still greater
trials had to be faced by the Emperor and herself. Her courage in the
face of this certain conviction is beyond any praise of mine.
On the 23rd of January she wrote:
My precious child: There is a possibility of writing to you now
as ---- leaves here on the 26th. I only hope no one robs him on the
way. He takes you two pounds of macaroni, three pounds of rice, and
a little ham. It is so well ---- does not live with us. I have
knitted stockings, and have knitted you a pair. They are men’s size
but they will do under valenki and when it is cold in the rooms.
Here we have 29 degrees of frost, and 6 in the big room. It is
blowing terribly. I was keenly touched by the money you sent, but
do not send any more as for the present we have all we need. There
have been days when we did not know what to do. I wonder what you
are living on. The little money you had I put in the box with your
jewels. (My fingers are so stiff I can hardly hold my pen.) I am
glad your rooms are so comfortable and so light, but it must be
difficult for you to climb the long staircase. How are your poor
back and legs?
I know nothing about Lili Dehn, and from my two sisters and my
brother I have heard nothing for a year. Only one letter from my
sister Elizabeth (Grand Duchess Serge) last summer. Olga
Alexandrovna[20] writes long letters to the children all about her
boy whom she adores and nurses herself. The grandmamma I think is
getting very old, and is very sad.
Tudles has four in her room. They say that Marie P.[21] lives well
in Kisslowdsk, both her sons are with her and she receives all the
_beau monde_ from Petrograd. Merika[22] lives there also and is
expecting a baby. Marianna Ratkova has bought a house there, and
receives on Thursdays. Mr. Gibbs asks often about you, also Tudles,
and my big Niouta Demidoff. The little doggy lies on my knees and
warms them. It is mortally cold, but in Petrograd there is probably
worse darkness, hunger, and cold. God help you all to bear it
patiently. The worse here the better in yonder world.
It hurts to think how much bloodshed will have to be before better
days come.... Darling, I send you all my love, and am so sad I can
send you little else. I embroider for the church when my eyes allow
me, otherwise I knit, but soon I shall have no more wool. We can’t
get any here--too dear, and very bad. I have had a letter from
Shoura Petrovskaia, who is taking care of her brother’s children.
She sews boots and sells them. In October the children got a letter
from their old nurse in England--the first one from there. What rot
they publish about Tatiana in the newspapers! Do you see your new
friend and saviour often? How is he? Love to your kind parents. I
would love to write you certain things of interest, but just now
there are many things one can’t put in a letter. The little one has
put on a sweater, and the girls wear valenki in their rooms. I know
how sad you would feel....
The kind servant Sednoff has just brought me a cup of cocoa to warm
me up. How do you pray with the rosary, and what prayers do you say
on every tenth? I generally say Our Father and to the Holy Virgin,
but should one say the same prayer to the end? I looked for it in
the books but did not get any information. I long so to go to
church but they allow us that only on great holidays (feasts). So
we hope to go on the 2nd of February, and on the 3rd I shall order
prayers at the relics for you. How is poor old Soukhomlinoff? Where
is Sacha? I suppose one may completely trust the little officer you
sent. I asked him to make the acquaintance of the priest who served
us before, a most devoted and energetic man, a real fighting
priest--more than spiritual perhaps--yet with a charming face, and
a constantly sweet smile, very thin, long gray beard, and clever
eyes. His feeling for us is known all over the country now by the
good ones, therefore they took him away from us, but perhaps better
so, as he can do more now. The Bishop is quite for father and
mother, and so is the Patriarch in Moscow, and it seems most of the
clergy. Only you must be careful what sort of people come to you. I
am so anxious about your seeing Gorky. Be prudent, and don’t have
any serious conversations with him. People will try to get around
you as before. I don’t mean real friends, honest-meaning people,
but others who for personal reasons will use you as their shield.
Then you will have the brutes after you again.
I am racking my brains what to send you, as one can get nothing
here at all. Our Christmas presents were all the work of our own
hands, and now I must give my eyes a rest.... How pleased I was
that Princess Eristoff has spoken so kindly of us. Give her and
also her son our love. Where does he serve now? The people here are
very friendly--lots of Kirghise. When I sit in the window they bow
to me, if the soldiers are not looking.
What dreadful news about the robbing of the sacristy in the Winter
Palace. There were so many precious relics and many of our own
ikons. They say it has been the same in the church of Gatchina. Did
you know that the portraits of my parents and of father have been
utterly destroyed? Also my Russian Court dresses and all the others
as well? But the destruction of the churches is the worst of all.
They say it was the soldiers from the hospital in the Winter Palace
who did it.... We hear that the soldiers in Smolny have seized all
available food, and are quite indifferent to the prospect of the
people starving. Why was money sent to us rather than having been
given to the poor? True, there were for us some very difficult
times when we could not pay any bills, and when for four months the
servants had to go without any wages. The soldiers here were not
paid, so they simply took our money to keep them quiet. All this is
petty, but it makes great trouble for the commandant. The
Hofmarshall Chancelerie is still in existence, but when they
abolish it I really don’t know what we shall do. Well, God will
help, and we still have what we need.
I think often of Livadia and what may be happening there. They say
that many former political prisoners are stationed there. Where is
our dear yacht, the _Standert_? I am afraid to inquire about it. My
God! How I suffered when I heard that you were imprisoned on the
_Polar Star_. I cannot think of the yacht. It hurts too much.
It is said that our Kommissar is about to be removed, and we are so
rejoiced. His assistant will leave with him. They are both terrible
men, Siberian convicts formerly. The Kommissar was in prison for
fifteen years. The soldiers have decided to send them away, but
thank God they have left us our commandant. The soldiers manage
absolutely everything here.
I am lying down, as it is six o’clock. There is a fire burning but
it barely warms the room. Soon the little one will be coming in for
a lesson. I am teaching the children the Divine Service. May God
help me to teach it to them so that it will remain with them
through their whole lives, and develop their souls. It is a big
responsibility.... It is such a blessing to live all together, and
be so near to one another. Still you must know what I have to
endure, having no news from my brother, nor any idea of what lies
in the future. My poor brother also knows nothing of us. If I
thought my own little old home and the family would have to suffer
what we have--it is awful! Then it might begin also in England.
However you remember that our Friend said that no harm would come
to my old home.[23] I try to suppress all these thoughts that my
soul may not be overwhelmed with despair. I trust all my dear ones
to the Holy Virgin. May she shield them from all evil. I still have
much to thank God for; you are well, and I can write to you; I am
not separated from our own darlings. Thank God we are still in
Russia (this is the chief thing), and we are near the relics of the
Metropolitan John, and we have peace. Good-bye, my little daughter.
Old friends continued to be very dear to the exiled Empress, and she
kept up her interest in all their affairs. Of my sister-in-law who had
her first child while her husband was fighting on the Rumanian front the
Empress wrote:
How much better it would have been if Tina could have gone to
Odessa to have her baby, not far from Serge, and where kind
Zinotchka could have looked after her and arranged everything. But
now that the Rumanians have taken Kichineff Serge has probably
left, and they are together again. Sharing hardships will cause
their love to increase and strengthen. How is Alyas’s (my sister)
health? Was it Mariana’s former husband, Derfelden, who was killed
in the south? Her mother and family live in Boris’s house.
I sometimes see Isa in the street (_i.e._ from the window). The
sister of mercy Tatiana Andrievna is now in Petrograd taking care
of her sister. Later she will return to Moscow. She seems rather
nervous. Give our greetings to our confessor, father Afanasi,
father Alexander, and my poor old Zio. I don’t know anything about
my second servant Kondratieff. What has become of our chauffeurs
and the coachman Konkoff? Is old General Schwedoff still alive?
Holy Virgin, keep my daughter from all danger, bless and console
her!
5th of February, 1918.
My own darling little one, How terribly sad I am for you about the
death of your dear father, and that I could not be with you to help
and console you in your great sorrow. You know that I am with you
in my prayers. May Christ and the Holy Virgin comfort you, and wipe
the tears from your eyes. May God receive his soul in peace.
Tomorrow morning I will ask Anoushka to go and order service for
him for forty days near the relics. Alas we can pray only at home.
In him we both lost a true friend of many years. Father and the
children suffer with you, tenderly kiss you, and know all that your
sensitive heart feels.
As your telegram went by post I don’t know what day God took him to
himself. Is it possible it was the same day you wrote to me? I am
so glad you saw him daily, but how did it happen, your poor father?
For himself one must thank God--so many hardships to live
through--no home, and everything so bad. I remember how it was
foretold to us (by Rasputine) that he would die when Serge married.
And you two women are all alone now. I wonder if your
brother-in-law was there to help you, or your kind uncle. I shall
try to write to his address a long letter, and also to your mother.
Tell her I kiss her tenderly, and how much we have always loved her
and honored your father. He was a rare man.... Don’t cry. He is
happy now, rests and prays for you at the Throne of God.
I am glad that you received my two letters. Now you will get two
more. What your little messenger will tell you about your dear ones
is for yourself alone. What horrors go on at Yalta and
Massandra--My God! Where is the salvation for us all and for the
poor officers? All the churches being ruined--nothing held sacred
any more--it will finish in some terrible earthquake, or something
like it as the chastisement of God. May He have mercy on our
beloved country. How I pray for Russia....
They say that the Japanese are in Tomsk and keep good order there.
I hope you got our little parcel. As we have no sugar I shall send
you a little honey which you can eat during Lent. We live still by
the old style, but probably shall have to change. Only I don’t know
how it will be then with Lent and all the services (festivals and
fasts). The people may be very angry if two weeks are thrown out.
That is why it was never done before....
The sun shines and even warms us in the day times. I feel that God
will not forsake but will save us, though all is so dark and tears
are flowing everywhere.... My little one, don’t suffer too much.
All this had to be. Only My God, how sorry I am for the innocent
ones killed everywhere. I can’t write any more. Ask your mother to
forgive the mistakes I shall make in writing to her in Russian, and
that I cannot express myself as warmly as I would like to.
Good-bye, my darling. I am sending you letters from father and the
children.
2nd of March, 1918.
Darling child: Thanks for all from father, mother and the children.
How you spoil us all by your dear letters and gifts. I was very
anxious going so long without news from you, especially as rumors
came that you were gone. Alas, I can’t write you as I could wish
for fear that this may fall into other hands. We have not yet
received all that you have sent (contraband). It comes to us little
by little. Dear child, do be careful of the people who come to see
you. The way is so slippery, and it is so easy to fall. Sometimes a
road is cleared through the snow on which one’s true friends are to
walk--and then the road becomes still more slippery!
We are all right, and I am now a real mistress of a household,
going over accounts with M. Gilliard. New work and very practical.
The weather is sunny--they are even sunburned, and even when the
frost comes back it is warmer in the sun. I have sat twice on the
balcony and sometimes sit in the yard. My heart has been much
better, but for a week I have had great pains in it again. I worry
so much. My God! How Russia suffers. You know that I love it even
more than you do, miserable country, demolished from within, and by
the Germans from without. Since the Revolution they have conquered
a great deal of it without even a battle.... If they created order
now in Russia how dreadful would be the country’s debasement--to
have to be grateful to the enemy. They must never dare to attempt
any conversations with father or mother.
We hope to go to Communion next week, if they allow us to go to
church. We have not been since the 6th of January. I shall pray to
the rosary you have written. Kiss your poor mother. I am glad you
took some of your things from the hospital. Best love to poor G.
Soukhomlinoff. What terrible times you are all living through. On
the whole we are better off than you.... Soon spring is coming to
rejoice our hearts. The way of the cross first--then joy and
gladness. It will soon be a year since we parted, but what is time?
Life here is nothing--eternity is everything, and what we are doing
is preparing our souls for the Kingdom of Heaven. Thus nothing,
after all, is terrible, and if they do take everything from us they
cannot take our souls.... Have patience, and these days of
suffering will end, we shall forget all the anguish and thank God.
God help those who see only the bad, and don’t try to understand
that all this will pass. It cannot be otherwise. I cannot write all
that fills my soul, but you, my little martyr, understand it better
than I. You are farther on than I.... We live here on earth but we
are already half gone to the next world. We see with different
eyes, and that makes it often difficult to associate with people
who call themselves, and really are religious.... My greatest sin
is my irritability. The endless stupidity of my maid, for
instance--she can’t help being stupid, she is so often untruthful,
or else she begins to sermonize like a preacher and then I
burst--you know how hot-tempered I am. It is not difficult to bear
great trials, but these little buzzing mosquitoes are so trying. I
want to be a better woman, and I try. For long periods I am really
patient, and then breaks out again my bad temper. We are to have a
new confessor, the second in these seven months. I beg your
forgiveness, too, darling. Day after tomorrow is the Sunday before
Lent when one asks forgiveness for all one’s faults. Forgive the
past, and pray for me. Yesterday we had prayers for the dead, and
we did not forget your father. A few days ago was the twenty-sixth
anniversary of my father’s death. I long to warm and to comfort
others--but alas, I do not feel drawn to those around me here. I am
cold towards them, and this, too, is wrong of me.
The cowardly yielding of the Bolshevist government to the triumphant
Germans was a source of constant suffering to the Empress. In subsequent
letters written me that spring she speaks almost indifferently of the
cold and privations suffered in the house in Tobolsk, but she becomes
passionate when she writes of the German invasion.
What a nightmare it is that it is Germans who are saving Russia
(from Communism) and are restoring order. What could be more
humiliating for us? With one hand the Germans give, and with the
other they take away. Already they have seized an enormous
territory. God help and save this unhappy country. Probably He
wills us to endure all these insults, but that we must take them
from the Germans almost kills me. During a war one can understand
these things happening, but not during a revolution. Now Batoum has
been taken--our country is disintegrating into bits. I cannot think
calmly about it. Such hideous pain in heart and soul. Yet I am sure
God will not leave it like this. He will send wisdom and save
Russia I am sure.
It will always be to me an immense gratification that in the midst of
her great pain and sorrow for Russia’s piteous plight our small group of
friends in Petrograd, and those brave souls who dared to risk their
lives as message bearers, were able to get to the forlorn family in
desolate Siberia at least the necessities of life of which a cruel and
inefficient government deprived them. The Empress who all her life had
but to command what she wanted for herself and her children was
grateful, pathetically grateful, for the simple garments, the cheap
little luxuries, even the materials for needlework we were able to
convey to them. She thanks me almost effusively for the jackets and
sweaters we sent her and the girls in their cold rooms. The wool was so
soft and nice, but the linen, she feared, was almost too fine. This was
early in March, but spring was already creeping across the steppes.
The weather is so fine that I have been sitting out on the balcony
writing music for the Lenten prayers, as we have no printed notes.
We had to sing this morning without any preparation, but it
went--well, not too badly. God helped. After service we tried to
sing some new prayers with the new deacon, and I hope it will go
better tonight.[24]
On Wednesday, Friday and Saturday mornings we were allowed to go to
the eight o’clock morning service in church--imagine the joy and
comfort! The other days we five women will sing during the home
service. It reminds me of Livadia and Oreanda. This week we shall
spend the evenings alone with the children, as we want to read
together. I know of nothing new. My heart is troubled but my soul
remains tranquil as I feel God always near. Yet what are they
deciding on in Moscow? God help us.
“Peace and yet the Germans continue to advance farther and farther
in,” wrote the Empress on March 13 (Russian). “When will it all
finish? When God allows. How I love my country, with all its
faults. It grows dearer and dearer to me, and I thank God daily
that He allowed us to remain here and did not send us farther away.
Believe in the people, darling. The nation is strong, and young,
and as soft as wax. Just now it is in bad hands, and darkness and
anarchy reigns. But the King of Glory will come and will save,
strengthen, and give wisdom to the people who are now deceived.”
For some reason the Empress seemed to feel that the Lenten season of
1918 was destined to end in an Easter resurrection of the torn and
distracted country. At least so her letters indicate. In a mood of
fitful kindness and mercy the Bolshevist soldiers in authority in
Tobolsk allowed their captives to go rather often to church and to
Communion during this season, and the Empress was very happy in
consequence. Her letters were full of prayers for the country, in which
the whole family joined, and they appeared to look forward to Easter as
the day when God would give some token that the sins of the Russian
people, for which they were suffering, were forgiven. Yet never once did
she speak of regaining power or the throne. All that was over and
forgotten. Neither the Emperor nor the Empress ever indicated in any
syllable that they expected to be returned to their former eminence. In
fact they never spoke of what might actually happen to the Russian
Empire, but they believed that God would hold it together and restore
its people to wisdom and strength. For themselves they seemed to look
forward to nothing better than an obscure existence with other Russian
people. How uncomplainingly they accepted the hard terms of their lives,
how grateful they were for the love of distant friends whom they might
never see again, is shown in all the last letters I received from the
Empress during March, 1918. After receiving one of our parcels of
clothing she wrote me:
We are endlessly touched by all your love and thoughtfulness. Thank
everybody for us, please, but really it is too bad to spoil us so,
for you are among so many difficulties and we have not many
privations, I assure you. We have enough to eat, and in many
respects are rich compared with you. The children put on yesterday
your lovely blouses. The hats also are very useful, as we have none
of this sort. The pink jacket is far too pretty for an old woman
like me, but the hat is all right for my gray hair. What a lot of
things! The books I have already begun to read, and for all the
rest such tender thanks. He was so pleased by the military suit,
vest, and trousers you sent him, and all the lovely things. From
whom came the ancient image? I love it.
Our last gifts to you, including the Easter eggs, will get off
today. I can’t get much here except a little flour. Just now we are
completely shut off from the south, but we did get, a short time
ago, letters from Odessa. What they have gone through there is
quite terrible. Lili is alone in the country with her grandmother
and our godchild, surrounded by the enemy. The big Princess
Bariatinsky and Mme. Tolstoy were in prison in Yalta, the former
merely because she took the part of the Tartars. Babia Apraxine
with her mother and children live upstairs in their house, the
lower floor being occupied by soldiers. Grand Duchess Xenia with
her husband, children, and mother are living in Dülburg. Olga
Alexandrovna (the Emperor’s sister) lives in Haraks in a small
house because if she had remained in Aitodor she would have had to
pay for the house. What the Germans are doing! Keeping order in the
towns but taking everything. All the wheat is in their hands, and
it is said that they take seed-corn, coal, former Russian
soldiers--everything. The Germans are now in Bierki and in
Charkoff, Poltava Government. Batoum is in the hands of the Turks.
Sunbeam (Alexei) has been ill in bed for the past week. I don’t
know whether coughing brought on the attack, or whether he picked
up something heavy, but he had an awful internal hemorrhage and
suffered fearfully. He is better now, but sleeps badly and the
pains, though less severe, have not entirely ceased. He is
frightfully thin and yellow, reminding me of Spala. Do you
remember? But yesterday he began to eat a little, and Dr. Derevanko
is satisfied with his progress. The child has to lie on his back
without moving, and he gets so tired. I sit all day beside him,
holding his aching legs, and I have grown almost as thin as he. It
is certain now that we shall celebrate Easter at home because it
will be better for him if we have a service together. I try to
hope that this attack will pass more quickly than usual. It must,
since all Winter he was so well.
I have not been outside the house for a week. I am no longer
permitted to sit on the balcony, and I avoid going downstairs. I am
sorry that your heart is bad again, but I can understand it. Be
sure and let me know well in advance if you move again. Everyone,
we hear, has been sent away from Tsarskoe. Poor Tsarskoe, who will
take care of the rooms now? What do they mean when they speak of an
“état de siège” there?...
Darling “Sister Seraphine”:
I want to talk to you again, knowing how anxious you will be for
Sunbeam. The blood recedes quickly--that is why today he again had
very severe pains. Yesterday for the first time he smiled and
talked with us, even played cards, and slept two hours during the
day. He is frightfully thin, with enormous eyes, just as at Spala.
He likes to be read to, eats little--no appetite at all in fact. I
am with him the whole day, Tatiana or Mr. Gilliard relieving me at
intervals. Mr. Gilliard reads to him tirelessly, or warms his legs
with the Fohn apparatus. Today it is snowing again but the snow
melts rapidly, and it is very muddy. I have not been out for a week
and a half, as I am so tired that I don’t dare to risk the stairs.
So I sit with Alexei.... A great number of new troops have come
from everywhere. A new Kommissar has arrived from Moscow, a man
named Jakovleff, and today we shall have to make his acquaintance.
It gets very hot in this town in Summer, is frightfully dusty, and
at times very humid. We are begging to be transferred for the hot
months to some convent. I know that you too are longing for fresh
air, and I trust that by God’s mercy it may become possible for us
all.
They are always hinting to us that we shall have to travel either
very far away, or to the center (of Siberia), but we hope that
this will not happen, as it would be dreadful at this season. How
nice it would be if your brother could settle himself in Odessa. We
are quite cut off from the south, never hear from anybody. The
little officer will tell you--he saw me apart from the others.[25]
I am so afraid that false rumors will reach your ears--people lie
so frantically. Probably the little one’s illness was reported as
something different, as an excuse for our not being moved.[26]
Well, all is God’s will. The deeper you look the more you
understand that this is so. All sorrows are sent us to free us from
our sins or as a test of our faith, an example to others. It
requires good food to make plants grow strong and beautiful, and
the gardener walking through his garden wants to be pleased with
his flowers. If they do not grow properly he takes his pruning
knife and cuts, waiting for the sunshine to coax them into growth
again. I should like to be a painter, and make a picture of this
beautiful garden and all that grows in it. I remember English
gardens, and at Livadia you saw an illustrated book I had of them,
so you will understand.
Just now eleven men have passed on horseback, good faces, mere
boys--this I have not seen the like of for a long time. They are
the guard of the new Kommissar. Sometimes we see men with the most
awful faces. I would not include them in my garden picture. The
only place for them would be outside where the merciful sunshine
could reach them and make them clean from all the dirt and evil
with which they are covered.
God bless you, darling child. Our prayers and blessings surround
you. I was so pleased with the little mauve Easter egg, and all the
rest. But I wish I could send you back the money I know you need
for yourself. May the Holy Virgin guard you from all danger. Kiss
your dear mother for me. Greetings to your old servant, the
doctors, and Fathers John and Dosifei. I have seen the new
Kommissar, and he really hasn’t a bad face. Today is Sacha’s (Count
Voronzeff, aide-de-camp) birthday.
March 21.
Darling child, we thank you for all your gifts, the little eggs,
the cards, and the chocolate for the little one. Thank your mother
for the books. Father was delighted with the cigarettes, which he
found so good, and also with the sweets. Snow has fallen again,
although the sunshine is bright. The little one’s leg is gradually
getting better, he suffers less, and had a really good sleep last
night. Today we are expecting to be searched--very agreeable! I
don’t know how it will be later about sending letters. I only hope
it will be possible, and I pray for help. The atmosphere around us
is fairly electrified. We feel that a storm is approaching, but we
know that God is merciful, and will care for us. Things are growing
very anguishing. Today we shall have a small service at home, for
which we are thankful, but it is hard, nevertheless, not to be
allowed to go to church. You understand how that is, my little
martyr.
I shall not send this, as ordinarily, through ----, as she too is
going to be searched. It was so nice of you to send her a dress. I
add my thanks to hers. Today is the twenty-fourth anniversary of
our engagement. How sad it is to remember that we had to burn all
our letters, yours too, and others as dear.[27] But what was to be
done? One must not attach one’s soul to earthly things, but words
written by beloved hands penetrate the very heart, become a part of
life itself.
I wish I had something sweet to send you, but I haven’t anything.
Why did you not keep that chocolate for yourself? You need it more
than the children do. We are allowed one and a half pounds of
sugar every month, but more is always given us by kind-hearted
people here. I never touch sugar during Lent, but that does not
seem to be a deprivation now. I was so sorry to hear that my poor
lancer Ossorgine had been killed, and so many others besides. What
a lot of misery and useless sacrifice! But they are all happier now
in the other world. Though we know that the storm is coming nearer
and nearer, our souls are at peace. Whatever happens will be
through God’s will. Thank God, at least, the little one is better.
May I send the money back to you? 1 am sure you will need it if you
have to move again. God guard you. I bless and kiss you, and carry
you always in my heart. Keep well and brave. Greetings to all from
your ever loving,
A.
[Illustration: THE EX-EMPEROR AND ALEXEI FEEDING TURKEYS IN THE BARNYARD,
TOBOLSK, SIBERIA, 1918 Photograph by Olga.]
This letter, written near the end of March, 1918, was the last I ever
received written by her Majesty’s own hand. A little later in the spring
of that year she and the Emperor were hurriedly removed to
Ekaterinaburg--the last place from which the world has received tidings
of them. The children and most of the suite were left behind in Tobolsk,
the poor little Alexei still ill and suffering, and cruelly deprived of
the solace of his mother’s love and devotion. In May I received a brief
letter from Grand Duchess Olga who with difficulty managed to get me
news of her parents and the family.
Darling, I take the first opportunity to write you the latest news
we have had from ours in Ekaterinaburg. They wrote on the 23rd of
April that the journey over the rough roads was terrible, but that
in spite of great weariness they are well. They live in three rooms
and eat the same food as the soldiers. The little one is better but
is still in bed. As soon as he is well enough to be moved we shall
join them. We have had letters from Zina but none from Lili. Have
Alya and your brother written? The weather has become milder, the
ice is out of the river Irtish, but nothing is green yet. Darling,
you must know how dreadful it all is. We kiss and embrace you. God
bless you.
OLGA.
[Illustration: THE LAST PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN OF THE EMPRESS AND HER
DAUGHTERS, OLGA AND TATIANA, 1918]
After this short letter from Olga came a card from Ekaterinaburg written
by one of the Empress’s maids at her dictation. It contained a few
loving words, and the news that they were recovering from the fatigue of
their terrible journey. They were living in two rooms--probably,
although this is not stated, under great privations. She hoped, but
could not tell yet, that our correspondence could be continued. It never
was. I had a card a little later from Mr. Gibbs saying that he and M.
Gilliard had brought the children from Tobolsk to Ekaterinaburg and that
the family was again united. The card was written from the train where
he and M. Gilliard were living, not having been allowed to join the
family in their stockaded house. Mr. Gibbs had an intuition that both of
these devoted tutors were soon to be sent out of the country and such
proved to be the case. This was my last news of my Empress and of my
Sovereigns, best of all earthly friends.
In July short paragraphs appeared in the Bolshevist newspapers saying
that by order of the Soviet at Ekaterinaburg the Emperor had been shot
but that the Empress and the children had been removed to a place of
safety. The announcement horrified me, yet left me without any exact
conviction of its truth. Soviet newspapers published what they were
ordered to publish without any regard whatever to facts. Thus when a
little later it was announced that the whole family had been
murdered--executed, as they phrased it--imagine “executing” five
perfectly innocent children!--I could not make myself believe it. Yet
little by little the public began to believe it, and it is certain that
Nicholas II and his family have disappeared behind one of the world’s
greatest and most tragic mysteries. With them disappeared all of the
suite and the servants who were permitted to accompany them to the house
in Ekaterinaburg. My reason tells me that it is probable that they were
all foully murdered, that they are dead and beyond the sorrows of this
life forever. But reason is not always amenable. There are many of us in
Russia and in exile who, knowing the vastness of the enormous empire,
the remoteness of its communications with the outside world, know well
the possibilities of imprisonment in monasteries, in mines, in deep
forests from which no news can penetrate. We hope. That is all I can
say. It is said, although I have no firsthand information on the
subject, that the Empress Dowager has never believed that either of her
sons was killed. The Soviet newspapers published accounts of the
“execution” of Grand Duke Michail, and strong evidence has been
presented that he was murdered in Siberia with others of the family,
including the Grand Duchess Serge. These same newspapers, however,
officially stated that Grand Duke Michail had been assisted to escape by
English officers.
The most fantastic contradictions concerning all these alleged murders
have from time to time cropped up. When I was in prison in the autumn of
1919 a fellow prisoner of the Chekha, the wife of an aide-de-camp of
Grand Duke Michail, told me positively that she had received a letter
from the Emperor’s brother, safe and well in England.
Perhaps the strangest incident of the kind happened to me when I was
hiding from the Chekha after my last imprisonment and my narrow escape
from a Kronstadt firing squad. A woman unknown to me approached me and
calling me by my name, which of course I did not acknowledge, showed me
a photograph of a woman in nun’s robes standing between two men, priests
or monks. “This,” she said mysteriously and in a whisper, “is one you
know well. She sent it to you by my hands and asks you to write her a
message that you are well, and also to give your address that she may
write you a letter.”
I looked long at the photograph--a poor print--and I could not deny to
myself that there was something of a likeness in the face, and
especially in the long, delicate hands. But the Empress had always been
slender, and after her ill health became almost emaciated. This woman
was stout. I might, had I had the slightest assurance of safety, have
taken the risk of writing my name and address for this stranger. But no
one in Russia takes such risks. The net of the Chekha is too far flung.
I have one word more to say about these letters of the Empress Alexandra
Feodorovna. I have translated them as faithfully and as literally as
possible, leaving out absolutely nothing except a few messages of
affection and some religious expressions which seem to me too intimate
to make public, and which might appear exaggerated to western readers. I
have included letters which may be thought trivial in subject, but I
have done it purposely because I yearned to present the Empress as she
was, simple, self-sacrificing, a devoted wife, mother, and friend, an
intense patriot, deeply and consistently religious. She had her human
faults and failings, as she freely admits. Some of these traits can be
described, as the French express it, as “the faults of her quality.”
Thus her great love for her husband, which never ceased to be romantic
and youthful, caused her at times cruel heart pangs. Because this has
nothing to do with her life or her story I should not allude to the one
cloud that ever came between us--jealousy. I should leave that painful,
fleeting episode alone, knowing that she would wish it forgotten, except
that in certain letters which have been published she herself has spoken
of it so bitterly that were I to omit mention of it entirely I might be
accused of suppressing facts.
I have, I think, spoken frankly of the preference of the Emperor for my
society at times, in long walks, in tennis, in conversation. In the
early part of 1914 the Empress was ill, very low-spirited, and full of
morbid reflections. She was much alone, as the Emperor was occupied many
hours every day, and the children were busy with their lessons. In the
Emperor’s leisure moments he developed a more than ordinary desire for
my companionship, perhaps only because I was an entirely healthy, normal
woman, heart and soul devoted to the family, and one from whom it was
never necessary to keep anything secret. We were much together in those
days, and before either of us realized it the Empress became mortally
jealous and suspicious of every movement of her husband and of myself.
In letters written during this period, especially from the Crimea during
the spring of 1914, the Empress said some very unkind and cruel things
of me, or at least I should consider them cruel if they had not been
rooted in illness, and in physical and mental misery. Of course the
Court knew of the estrangement between us, and I regret to say that
there were many who delighted in it and did what they could to make it
permanent. My only real friends were Count Fredericks, Minister of the
Court, and his two daughters, who stood by me loyally and kept me in
courage.
That this illusion of jealousy was entirely dissipated, that the Empress
finally realized that my love and devotion for her precluded any
possibility of the things she feared, her letters to me from Siberia
amply demonstrate. Our friendship became more deeply cemented than
before, and nothing but death can ever sever the bond between us.
* * * * *
Other letters written by the Empress to her husband between 1914 and
1916 have within this past year found publication by a Russian firm in
Berlin. Some of them have been reproduced in the London _Times_, and I
have no doubt that they will also be published in America. These letters
reveal the character of the Empress exactly as I knew her. It is balm to
my bruised heart to read in the London _Times_ that whatever has been
said of her betrayal, or attempted betrayal of Russia during the war,
must be abandoned as a legend without the least foundation. So must also
be discarded accusations against her of any but spiritual relations with
Rasputine. That she believed in him as a man sent of God is true, but
that his influence on her, and through her on the Emperor’s policies,
had any political importance I must steadfastly deny. Both the Empress
and Rasputine liked Protopopoff and trusted him. But that had nothing to
do with his ministerial tenure. The Empress, and I think also Rasputine,
disliked and distrusted Grand Duke Nicholas. But that had nothing to do
with his demission. In these affairs the Emperor made his own decisions,
as I have stated. The strongest proof of what I have written will be
found in the letters of the Empress, those she wrote to the Emperor, to
her relations in Germany and England, and those included in this volume.
Nothing contradictory, nothing inconsistent has ever been discovered,
despite the efforts of the Empress’s bitter enemies, the Provisional
Government and the Bolshevists. Before all the world, before the
historians of the future, Alexandra Feodorovna, Empress of Russia,
stands absolved.