I met in society many who were much imbued with the idea of a
constitution, and even of a Republic, a word which sounded like magic to
them--magic, like something far off. They reminded me both by their
advanced ideas and by their occasional indifference of the spirit about
which I had often read: of the spirit that must have reigned at the
Court of France on the eve of the Great Revolution. The Russian Empire,
composed as it is of a number of races so diversely opposed to one
another--neither sharing the same sentiments nor possessing any interest
in common, races between which even a certain animosity exists always,
an enormous population of uneducated, half savage people--would render,
it seems to me, a Republic out of the question. I wrote of this twelve
years ago!
Many an illusion has already taken wings at the sight of what is passing
now, and of that which is bound to come. In the future we may not see
the Great Republic dreamt of by Kerensky and others, but rather the
destruction of Great Russia itself, and a collection of little republics
springing up, small not by the narrowness of the confines of such, but
by the weakness of their constitutions, which shall be either
completely independent one from the other, or else bound together by the
most slackened Federal system. They will probably be penetrated and
dominated by German influence.
Where will be the dreams of those who thought to perceive in a republic
a special autonomy for their province and with it complete liberty? It
is necessary for this great homogeneous nation to be ruled by one hand,
and it is essential that that hand should be a firm one.
Kerensky himself admitted that when he was in power. But why it must be
so plebeian a hand is what I cannot understand. Kerensky has tried and
has promptly proved himself to be a complete failure. He was bound to
fail, all goes from bad to worse, and one must completely cease to count
on the military or the political support of that Power, even up to quite
recently so great; and thus it will be till the end of the war and for
long after.
The absolutely powerless government of Kerensky dared not undertake
anything against the agitators Lenin and Co., for it knew well that it
had no real force behind it. It is this weakness, both voluntary and
compulsory, that ruined it, and it has after a short period been
overthrown by those terrible Extremists, with Lenin, that chattel of
Germany, at their head, for he has been bought with their gold. As one
of my uncles wrote to me some time ago: “If Germany raises a statue to
Hindenburg she should also raise one to Lenin and to his Bolshevik
companions. It is their doctrine more than anything else that has caused
the demoralization of our army and the successes of our enemies.
“The Bolsheviks are the Communards of France of 1871 who are left
unrestrained for the sake of sane principle until it is perceived too
late that to allow these mad fanatics to speechify and act leads to
ruin.”
No really Russian soldier has fired a shot since the Revolution except
against his own officers--a great number of whom have fallen--or against
his own Allies when these would not pack off before the Boches without
striking a blow. The victories of July 1917, such as they were, were
brought off by Finns, Letts, Lithuanians, and Poles, with Czech-Slovak
prisoners who had been set at liberty. All these were not fighting for
Russia, but for their own liberty and autonomy, which depended on a
German defeat.
One can only affirm one thing to-day, and that is that without the
Revolution the situation would have been even worse than at present, for
a separate peace would long ago have been concluded, thanks to the
intrigues of the ex-Empress, perjured to all which should have been most
dear to her, and of the traitors who surrounded her and conspired with
her to baffle, blind, drug and intimidate that unlucky and ill-fated
puppet, the ex-Emperor, a man with no will, no force of character;
honest in himself but incapable of exacting honesty from those around
him, and always agreeing with the last person who had spoken to him.
Her moujiks are the latent force of Russia, not the agitators of her
towns and capitals, and they will be the first to see the falseness of
the doctrines of the spies with which they are fed to gain this
concurrence. May the moujik not recognize too late that he is being
lured away--and who lures him? The ignoble Russian Bolo, his pockets
filled with German gold, recompense of his treachery. That is the whole
story.
The task of the Russian Bolo would not have been as simple if a Tzar
worthy of the moment were still there. The moujik no longer has his
“Little Father,” of whom he made almost a god. For him he would have
died with joy, with all that fanaticism which can possess the Russian
soul, that fanaticism would have made of him an invincible soldier--but
why should he die for a Kerensky? He is not a “Little Father,” he is a
man like himself--and at that he demurs. Can one blame these hardy and
simple workers of the great steppes if they find themselves adrift, no
longer having either him to adore who was almost their god on earth, or
that to venerate which was the religion of their _izba_[A] for
centuries? For the Tzar was not only the head of the State, but also the
head of the Religion of his State, the Greek Orthodox Church, as it is
called over there. “He is our pope,” Russians often said to me,
referring to my Roman Pope.
For who was Kerensky? Kerensky is of the people and a barrister. His
father was or is still the master of a small school. A student at the
time of the first Revolution in 1905, he was arrested as a Socialist and
Revolutionary. No one spoke of him then, he was quite unknown, and he
was arrested like many others; but the circumstance has been recalled
to-day.
He has often been called “Russia’s strong man”; after the deposition of
the Tzar he seized the power. He was a Social Democrat, or Minimalist.
His empire over the masses was enormous; but it began to diminish when
he developed in statesmanship. The Extremists were not slow to see this,
and acted on it. The Soviet, which was supposed to support his
Provisional Government, was only composed of so-called Russians, who
were simply all Germans and for the most part Jews.
Lenin himself, the chief of the Extremists, Maximalists, is a notorious
Hun agent, and is known throughout Europe as a dangerous leader. For
some years his activities, though confined to Russia, have been
exercised on behalf of Germany. His doctrine may be summed up thus:
1. The immediate conclusion of the war.
2. The handing over of the land to the peasants.
3. The settlement of the economic crisis.
Trotsky is an Extreme Anarchist, well known to the police in most
European countries. Before the declaration of war he was at New York,
where he spent some months. On his way to Russia, in March 1917, he was
detained at Halifax by the English Authorities, who released him on an
appeal which came to them from the Russian Government.
The Soviet is the Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Delegates; it is to
their influence that must be ascribed much of the present chaotic
condition of the country.
One of the great faults of the Government which has succeeded the Empire
has been to allow the return of all these dangerous agitators who had
taken refuge beyond the frontier of the great empire and who were only
worthy of Siberia. Korniloff was the well-known chief of the Cossacks
and also the ex-commander and chief of the Armies. He, with true
insight, saw the danger his country was running; seeing her drifting to
anarchy he did all he could to make Kerensky act firmly. The latter
refusing to do so, he took the affairs into his own hands, but failed,
and was to have been tried for revolt. Had Korniloff been lucky he might
have saved his country.
There remains yet one hope in the powerful chief of the Don Cossacks,
Kaledin, under whose orders is the south of Russia. May he succeed in
restoring a firm Monarchy.
The reform of certain matters necessary to our century ought to have
started from above.
It is certain that if the Emperor had wished to listen to the advice
that sensible people had given him, instead of listening to his wife and
the little clique of ignorant and blind reactionaries which surrounded
her--and from the heart of which she insisted on recruiting the
ministers, etc.--the goal would have been reached.
It was in vain that Grand Duke Nicholas wrote to the Emperor denouncing
the plot that was forming against him and so near him; it was in vain
that several times he came to see the Tzar trying to convince him; but
it was all to no avail.
The task of reform would not have been easy for anyone; and was quite
beyond the powers of Nicholas II. The fault was partly due, it is said,
to the fact that the early education of the Emperor was never that of a
child who had, in perspective, the heavy task of governing a great
empire, but mainly in the man himself.
Russia needed an intelligent, energetic ruler, full of action and
decision, and not this victim of an invincible obstinacy, often a
symptom of crass stupidity. It would have been necessary that he should
have had enough force and courage to have dismissed the insolent, the
incapable, the Germans at heart if not in race who surrounded and
dominated him.
But let us return to 1905. The partisans of the aristocracy greatly
deplored the fact of Prince Troubetzkoy and his followers being received
by the Emperor.
The Protestants, and even some Russians with advanced notions, held this
to be sublime, a great step towards liberty and deliverance. The part
played by Troubetzkoy and his friends resembled that of those nobles
who, at the beginning of the Great French Revolution, abandoned their
king and themselves became the first victims of the infuriated mob. The
mere fact of their having been received by the Emperor was sufficient to
cause the latter a great loss of prestige in the eyes of the masses.
Nothing could have had a more disastrous effect on them, and to think of
those malcontents being well received--the last people who should have
been.
“Ils auront été se faire photographier,” exclaimed one of my uncles,
“mais ils n’obtiendront rien de ce qu’ils désirent.”
The truth of this assertion was to be felt the next day when all the
papers were full of the account, with illustrations of the reception.
The Revolutionary party was formidably and admirably organized; one felt
that this revolution which was commencing was the outcome of long
premeditated plans: its fibres had penetrated everywhere, even where one
least expected to find them, and one can hardly imagine the perfect
accord, the power, and the methods employed by these disorganizers of
public order, moral tranquillity and love of country. Every day in
Petrograd alone there were a number of political arrests, plots
unveiled, bombs discovered.
Those miserable Nihilists were prepared to die without a murmur, as if
really inspired, like regular fanatics, when obliged to give their
lives, never consenting to divulge anything to the police, not even to
give their names, and that in spite of the most cruel tortures used to
make them speak; and they often believed themselves to be martyrs to a
good and sacred cause.
The names of young men and girls of the best society, whose fathers more
often than not held important positions, were mentioned as being
connected with them.
There was much talk then of an arrest which had taken place in the heart
of the society to which a certain young girl belonged. She had hired a
little flat in Petrograd, where she had many relations and friends as
well known from their social position as from the important appointments
they held.
Who could have ever believed that she could have affiliated herself with
these sectaries and been a party to their conspiracy. Precisely for this
reason she was chosen by the revolutionaries who deposited in her care
their papers and documents, believing them to be thus in safety.
This girl had been in Switzerland the year before, and had there made
the acquaintance of a young man who was actually one of the most active
chiefs of the Nihilist party. This man designedly paid attention to her,
and she became madly in love with him. They met again during the winter
in Petrograd, and resolved to assassinate Trepoff--the chief of police.
In order to achieve this they decided to station at the great Morskaia,
nearly opposite his house, a man dressed as a commissionaire. Here I may
explain that, in Petrograd, there were at many of the cross streets
depots of commissionaires wearing red caps; they carried letters, etc.,
for the smallest emolument. But this man was badly chosen; being a very
good-looking youth he attracted the notice of the others, the real
commissionaires, who warned the police. These latter observed him,
arrested him, and found that he carried a bomb.
Of the large band who had plotted the assassination, the majority were
arrested.
Our young heroine was arrested at her hairdresser’s just as she was
going to the Opera. Her father, governor of a province, was anything but
pleased to learn of the conduct of his daughter, of whose advanced ideas
he had no suspicion.
A few days later two sisters, well-known also in Petrograd society,
attempted suicide. These were the Princess X... and Mademoiselle
Trepoff, friends of the aforementioned. The Princess shot herself with a
revolver and her life was in danger for many days, but she recovered at
the end of that time. It was the same with her sister, who threw herself
under a train at the Nicholas station. I had met her only a few days
before. It is said that since then she has to wear a heel made of metal
to replace the one reduced to a pulp by the wheels of the train. When
recovered they reappeared in society without exhibiting any shame.
Incredible, is it not?
Some spoke of an unhappy love affair, others of politics; my humble
opinion is the general one, that they found themselves compromised by
the arrest of their friend.
The affair was suppressed, thanks to the influence of their Uncle
Trepoff, the chief of police, and without any ill-feeling, poor man, on
his part!
Every day some fresh bomb explosion took place, causing many victims in
some part or other of the Empire.
One day I happened to be walking on the Champs de Mars--where so many of
the Revolutionaries who perished last March [1917] now lie buried in
their red coffins--when my attention was drawn to a certain individual
with a most evil countenance walking a few paces in front of me; when
all of a sudden an _izvo_--diminutive of the word meaning “hackney
carriage”--drew up quite close to me, and two men jumped out
precipitately, throwing themselves on this individual and dragging him
along with them into the carriage. One of them was a member of the
military police, and the other a member of the secret police in plain
clothes.
They had the greatest trouble to secure their prisoner, who was a most
vigorous ruffian and made use of all his strength to free his hands so
as to reach his coat pocket, which contained a bomb no doubt, and which
he evidently intended to throw at one of the Grand Dukes, who happened
to drive past in his equipage a few minutes later, while the cab with
its struggling trio dashed off in another direction.
I wrote to one of my friends twelve years ago: “May Society here
[Petrograd], so brilliant but often so light and so indifferent, not
experience one day the horrors and crimes of our revolution in France of
1793.”
People spoke, it is true, of the great and bloody contest that was
unfolding itself in Manchuria with airs of deep regret, due, however,
much more to the shame inflicted by successive defeats and by their
notable inferiority than to the poignant feeling they should have
experienced at seeing their country tried and unhappy. I thought them
really much too philosophical; it seemed to me as though they were
talking about a war which did concern their country--Allied, perhaps,
but not their own. The French war in the Soudan, though on so small a
scale, made much more sensation in France. And yet how many homes were
in mourning in Petrograd, in that society which I frequented, and of
which alone I was in a position to judge.
The _salons_ were partly closed and there were no balls, but the
theatres were by no means empty, and on the evenings of the greatest
reverses were full of uniforms of every branch of the forces; even on
the evening when the great naval defeat of Tsussima--May the 14th, the
anniversary of Coronation Day--which scattered and destroyed the fleet,
was known at Petrograd, the Russian Opera and the theatres were crowded
with naval officers. This disaster did not occur as a surprise to poor
Admiral Rogestvensko, for he had felt he was going to his doom. For the
rest, this regrettable aberration was remarked in high places, for the
“Autocrat” made known by all the newspapers that these officers should
not show themselves in public for some days at least.
On the 17th of February Grand Duke Sergius-Alexandrovitch,
Governor-General of Moscow, was blown to atoms in the streets of Moscow,
an event which came as a real shock to me. I remember my Uncle de
Baranoff being at once informed by telephone of his death.
It was said at the time that the Grand Duchess had run to the place of
assassination and, flinging herself on the remains of her dead husband,
had recovered his brains and wrapped them in her handkerchief.
The Grand Duke was not a good husband, and beautiful as she was--an
elder sister of the Empress--their home was not a happy one.
Ever since her husband’s death she has devoted her life to acts of
charity.
All attempts against Trepoff, chief of the police, failed that year, he
having to resort to every kind of ruse to escape, even going so far as
to drive about concealed in a post and telegraph van.
Bombs were to be expected in a crowd; in churches; in fact, everywhere!