EXILE—I AM DISMISSED
Towards the middle of the summer vague rumours reached us that in
consequence of the agitation which was already shaking the country to
a considerable degree, the Government had decided to remove Nicholas
II. to another and safer residence than Czarskoi Selo. It was feared
that if an insurrectionary movement took place at Petrograd, the mob
might proceed to the Imperial Borough and murder the former Czar. At
least this was the pretext put forward by the ministers, to explain the
reasons which had induced them to put out of the way the unfortunate
Emperor and his family. Of course no one believed them, because it
would have been relatively easy to have controlled the populace in case
it had tried to attack the Palace where the prisoners were confined.
And if this had been thought impossible, surely there were other places
than Siberia where they could have been sent.
I am not here, however, to blame or to excuse anybody. I wish merely to
relate facts such as I have known them, and nothing else. So I shall
proceed with my story, which is now drawing to an end.
It was in the course of a July afternoon that we were summoned before
the military commander of Czarskoi Selo. By we I mean the household, or
what was left of it, of the deposed sovereigns. We were informed that
the latter were about to leave their present residence and that only a
few persons would be allowed to accompany them. I was told that I would
not be permitted to do so, as my presence was not considered necessary
to the Empress, who, it was ironically remarked, would not require any
longer two maids, especially one who like myself had purely academic
functions. I pleaded hard to be exempted from this ordeal of being
removed with others from the service of the gracious lady at whose side
and in whose service I had remained twenty-five years, but my request
and protestations were not taken into account. I was told to prepare
myself to leave the Palace at a moment’s notice and to have both my own
things and those belonging to the Empress packed and ready to be taken
away.
Count Benckendorff and Prince Dolgoroukoff, who declared that nothing
but sheer force would part them from their former Sovereign, and
two ladies in waiting on the Empress, the Princess Obolensky, and
Mademoiselle von Butzov, who was specially attached to the service of
the young Grand Duchesses, were allowed to travel with the prisoners,
as well as some servants who had found favour in the eyes of the
Government probably because they had consented to take upon themselves
the duty of spying upon their master and mistress. But the suite was to
be very limited, and to the last minute we were left in ignorance as to
the real destination of Nicholas II. Count Benckendorff was the only
exception to this measure and he was sworn to secrecy.
When I returned to the Palace, I could not help seeking the Empress
and relating to her all that I had heard. She raised her hands to
Heaven with the exclamation, “They will put us in the fortress, and
then murder us like they did Louis XVI.” But she showed no fear, and
remained as calm and composed as ever, not caring to let her children
be troubled sooner than was necessary with the news of what was
awaiting them in the near future.
Three days later an officer sent by the government asked to see the
young Grand Duchesses. He communicated to them the news that their
parents were to be transported to Tobolsk in Siberia and that they were
left entirely free to accompany them there or to remain at Czarskoi
Selo, in which case they would be permitted to remain in the Palace
and to occupy their present apartments. The girls did not hesitate
one single moment and replied that they would not think of abandoning
their father and mother, but would go with them wherever it pleased
the government to send them. It is a curious thing that no one thought
for one moment of suggesting that the little Alexis should be left in
Europe, and the delicate child was not given a thought, but on the
contrary despatched with alacrity to an exile which might easily kill
him, as he was hardly strong enough to be able to withstand the rigour
of the terrible climate to which he was being consigned. It was only
after the Grand Duchesses had been called upon to make their decision
that the Czar and his Consort were officially informed that they were
about to be removed to Tobolsk. The place is about one of the worst in
the whole of Siberia, both as regards temperature and resources. Half
village and half town, its population consists of political exiles and
prisoners, and of Yakoutes, a savage, nomad folk, that spends its time
in the unexplored forests which surround the town, whence they emerge
from time to time to sell the furs which they have gathered together in
the winter. The thermometer falls below freezing point for months at a
stretch, and altogether it is one of the dreariest spots in the whole
world. It is to this living death and to this awful solitude that were
to be consigned the man and the woman whom the world had known as the
Emperor and Empress of All the Russias, together with their innocent
children. The Tour du Temple, where Louis XVI. was confined, was not
half so awful as this.
And yet the Empress accepted the news if not with resignation at least
with composure. To tell the truth she was weary of Czarskoi Selo,
where everything reminded her of former and happier times, and perhaps
she was not sorry to have at last a complete change of surroundings.
She declared herself ready to start as soon as ordered to do so and
busied herself with the preparations for her approaching departure
just as if it had been a holiday excursion. The only thing which she
asked for was to see her sister, the Grand Duchess Elizabeth, but
though the latter was informed that she could if she wished proceed
to Czarskoi Selo, she refused to do so, and contented herself with
writing a very short and formal note to the Empress, who felt this want
of heart far more than she admitted. These were indeed sad days that
preceded the sad departure. None among us had the faintest hope of ever
again seeing the kind masters we were parting from, and the prisoners
themselves thought that they would never come back to this Russia that
was behaving so harshly towards them. On the last evening the Emperor
called us to his presence and thanked us for our faithful services. He
was pale but otherwise unmoved. The whole thing seemed, to judge from
his appearance, to constitute an episode that did not concern him.
The Empress was agitated, but also resigned, and she tried to put on
a gaiety which she did not feel. She had since the Revolution always
worn black dresses, but on that evening she ordered me to prepare her
for the morrow a dark blue costume. She did not wish strangers to think
that she wore mourning for her misfortunes. No one slept that night
in the Palace, and when the hour for departure sounded there was not
one dry eye amongst us. I obtained permission to accompany my mistress
to the railway station and part of the way. My heart was bursting with
despair.
They started—that unfortunate family—with an air of cheerful courage,
on this momentous and awful journey. Without a sigh the Czarina bade
good-bye to that Palace which had seen her greatness and her downfall.
Probably she had, as Queen Elizabeth of Austria had once said, “died
inwardly” long before that day, and nothing more could hurt her now.
Without a tear she entered the train, such a shabby one when compared
with the sumptuous cars in which she had been used to travel, and she
did not even turn her head to look back on the theatre of her former
splendour and misery. The whistle sounded, the engine began to move,
and with it disappeared into space the haughty autocracy which had
ruled over Russia—Holy Russia—since Peter the Great had organised it
as an Empire, and which though no longer great, yet had remained an
immense thing until the Revolution, with the mistakes and faults of its
representatives, had finally destroyed it....
I have nothing more to say. This is not a political work and I have
purposely avoided any mention of my personal opinions in regard to
the catastrophe which has sent my former masters into that Siberia
which has witnessed already so many tragedies. Personally they have
always been kind to me. I would be an ungrateful person if I did not
acknowledge it, and if I forgot to shed tears over their fate.
Transcriber’s Notes
Page 38 — o’colck changed to o’clock.
Page 181 — conspicious changed to conspicuous
Page 222 — communciation changed to communication.
Have left the spellings of Mohilev and Mohilew as printed.