CAPTIVES IN A PALACE
Before the Revolution, propagandists of all descriptions aimed their
poisoned shafts at the Empress. Her fatal belief in Razputin rendered
her an easy prey. The revolutionary section watched over Grishka, just
as their German accomplices “protected” Alexandra. Nicholas was left
alone, comparatively speaking. After the Revolution all the energies of
the dark forces involved were concentrated upon him. It was not enough
that he had voluntarily abdicated; he had to be shorn of all prestige,
so that the inveterate devotion and loyalty of the people, which had
formed the very foundation of Russia’s existence, should be swept away
for ever. “The Tsar was a traitor; he and his wife had been in secret
communication with the Germans.” In city, village, and camp this
poisonous rumour spread.
Blindly, the Provisional Government did nothing to stop it. The Order of
the Day to the Armies, in which Nicholas, bidding good-bye to his
soldiers, proclaimed his unshaken loyalty to the sacred cause of Russia,
and besought them never to lay down their arms to Germany, was
suppressed by telegram from the War Office in Petrograd.[6] Evil deeds
come back to roost whence they have issued. The people who besmirched
the Tsar to please the revolutionaries were themselves punished. One
does not undermine the faith of a whole nation without destroying all
authority.
When the Empress and her sick children were proclaimed prisoners of
state, and a few days later Nicholas arrived under custody at Tsarskoe,
this foul charge of treachery hung over them, poisoning their lives by
the mental and even physical torture that ensued. It was because of this
abominable lie that the ex-Sovereigns were first treated like common
malefactors, kept in separate rooms, and forbidden to see or
communicate with each other; and the soldiers and officers of the guard
considered themselves justified in persecuting and insulting them, and
even their followers deserted them.
After the overhauling of all their private papers by a special court of
inquiry instituted by order of the revolutionary chieftain,
Kirbiss-Kerensky, even he had to amend his demeanour. “_Tsar chist_”
(the Tsar is clean), he declared. The Russian phrase means more than
“innocent”; it is really “beyond reproach.” But the Jewish Press and the
Soviet did not recant their foul slanders. No justice could be shown to
the man whom they hated. Captivity lost some of its worst forms after
the innocence of the ex-Tsar had been established. But Tsarskoe-Selo was
only a prelude to worse martyrdom.
I do not wish to go over the details of the first captivity, a good deal
being already known about the five months at Tsarskoe-Selo. Only the
more important episodes are given here, based upon the depositions of
members of the Imperial household. But before relating these sad
memories, I would take the reader a little farther back, and touch upon
fateful incidents that have not yet been recorded in their proper
bearing.
I have referred to the estrangement of nearly everyone of the
ex-Empress’s friends as a consequence of her malady. This exodus of
intimates included kinsfolk as well as humbler people. Even the
Montenegrin Princesses Anastasia and Militza[7] were no exceptions to
the rule. Coldness between the wives in this case was bound sooner or
later to affect the husbands. Alexandra resented the popularity of the
Grand Duke Nicholas as a personal affront. In the end she succeeded in
persuading her husband to dismiss him and to assume the Chief Command.
But she punished herself. The Tsar at the Stavka (G.H.Q.) began to do
things without her knowledge and consent. He actually listened to
dreadful stories about the “saint,” dismissed Stuermer, and might go
further. Razputin’s death helped the Empress to reassert her usual
influence. Then, once more, the Tsar went off to Moghilev, and anxiety
crept again into the mind of Alexandra.
The illness of the children--they all contracted measles in a very bad
form--caused her worry of another sort. For a time the Autocrat was
forgotten in the mother; and so, when the rumbling of the Revolution was
already loud, she did not discern it. Protopopov, the friend of the
departed “saint,” was assuring her that nothing serious had occurred.
When the children were out of danger, she had leisure to take stock of
affairs. Realizing that Protopopov was not to be trusted, she sent for
the Grand Duke Paul. Rumours about the Tsar tormented her. He was going
to abdicate. The idea
[Illustration: DINING-ROOM IN THE IPATIEV HOUSE
This photograph was taken before the arrival of the Imperial family.]
[Illustration: THE GRAND DUCHESSES’ ROOM IN THE IPATIEV HOUSE]
[Illustration: THE COMMANDANT’S ROOM IN THE IPATIEV HOUSE]
[Illustration: THE HALL AND DRAWING-ROOM IN THE IPATIEV HOUSE
This photograph was taken before the arrival of the Imperial family.]
of such a surrender made her frantic. Paul could not help. She tried to
get into communication with her husband by aeroplane. A trusty flying
officer was summoned, but even this venture failed.
Remaining outwardly calm, she showed the measure of her anxiety by
abandoning the reserve that she had always displayed. Thus she herself
came out to the guards battalions and units that had been concentrated
around the Palace, and actually made a speech to them.
On the morning of the 21st of March, General Kornilov came to inform
Alexandra “that upon him had fallen the painful duty of announcing the
ordinance of the Council of Ministers that from that hour her Majesty
must consider herself to be under arrest.” This announcement was made to
the Empress in the children’s play-room in the presence of Colonel
Kobylinsky, the new commandant of the Palace. Then General Kornilov
asked to speak to the Empress alone. He assured her that there was no
danger, and then gave instructions for the treatment of the prisoners,
based upon kindness and courtesy.
The meeting between husband and wife was a very affecting one. Nicholas
came straight to the nursery. They embraced each other tenderly,
“forgetting the world and its troubles in the joy of reunion with their
children.” Prison rules, rigorously applied, thenceforth prevented any
communication with the outside, and for a time even between the
prisoners.
Kerensky set about trying to discover some evidence of collusion with
the enemy. Alexandra was isolated. A creature of Kerensky’s, named
Korovichenko, came to search the Imperial papers. The Tsar politely
offered to help him, but met with a rude rebuff, after which he left
Korovichenko alone. Having satisfied himself that no such evidence
existed Kerensky somewhat altered his demeanour. At his first meeting
with the ex-Tsar, he had adopted a tone of haughty familiarity. Later,
he became polite, even respectful, addressing him as “your Majesty,”
instead of plain “Nicholas Alexandrovich.”
Although the soldiers guarding the Palace were not supposed to enter its
precincts, the prisoners did not enjoy immunity from their prying gaze
and offensive curiosity. They broke into the palace and pilfered,
ransacking trunks. On one occasion they rushed into the sitting-room
where the family had assembled. One of the girls sat between the light
and the window, doing some sewing. Her movements silhouetted outside had
been suspected to be signals.
An officer accompanying the Minister of War (Guchkov) on one of his
visits loudly accused the occupants of the Palace of being “sold to the
enemy” (_Vy vsie prodazhnyie_). The fact that he was intoxicated did not
lighten the insult. It showed what unworthy suspicions animated people
in the Ministries. The ignorant soldiers who imbibed their daily dose of
revolutionary lore from the Soviets were not better or worse than their
chiefs. By dogging the ex-Tsar’s footsteps when he went out for
exercise, by shooting the boy’s pet goats, and taking away his toy
rifle, and by other acts of the same kind the soldiers were merely
copying their officers. These demonstratively donned red badges and
ignored the Tsar’s salute.
Senseless clamour had led to daily espionage of the family. Officers of
the guard went into the dining-room at lunch time to see if the
prisoners were all in the Palace. The Tsar always greeted them. On one
occasion an officer declined the extended hand. Nicholas, deeply hurt,
asked him: “Why?” The man, putting his hand behind his back, declaimed:
“I am of the people. When the people stretched their hands out to you,
you did not meet them!”
* * * * *
At the end of July the captives heard that they would shortly go away.
It was impossible to leave them there any longer. The Soviets of
Petrograd and Kronstadt had tried to obtain possession of them by force
and by stealth. Once an individual attired in uniform, styling himself
Colonel Maslovsky, had made his appearance, and, producing a paper
signed Chkeidze, demanded, in the name of the Soviet of Petrograd, the
transfer of the prisoners to the Fortress of SS. Peter and Paul,
threatening to call in the troops if his demands were not immediately
complied with. It was with the greatest difficulty that Colonel
Kobylinsky averted the danger. The Provisional Government could not
afford to let the Soviets obtain the custody of such valuable hostages.
It had to remove them to a place of safety--above all to a place where
the Soviets could not easily reach them. Perhaps this explains the
selection of such a remote place as Tobolsk. It was chosen by Kerensky
without the knowledge of the captives. They thought, till the train was
conveying them eastward, that they were bound for the south. The ex-Tsar
did not like his destination. He suspected a trap, though what should
have made him suspicious is not known.
Permission had been given to the banished sovereigns to choose the
persons who were to accompany them into exile. Nicholas selected his
aide-de-camp Naryshkin, but as this favourite hesitated, he at once
crossed out his name and proposed Ilya Leonidovich Tatishchev, who, with
Prince Vasily Alexandrovich Dolgoruky remained with him to the end,
paying for their loyalty and devotion with their lives. In a separate
chapter I shall describe the heroism, sufferings, and end of those who
were faithful unto death--of the two whom I have just named, of Dr.
Botkin and of young Countess Anastasia Vasilievna Hendrykova, angel of
purity and grace, whose mere presence at the Court of Alexandra should
have kept away all things evil, and of devoted Mlle. Schneider, and of
the humbler servitors. The ex-Empress was not permitted, for some
unexplained reason, to take her favourite maid.
The evil genius of the household, Anna Vyrubova, had been locked up in
the fortress. She and Voeikov, the ex-palace commandant, had been
subjected to the most searching interrogation by the members of the
“Extraordinary Commission of Inquiry regarding the Dark Forces.” Such
was the high-sounding title invented by Kerensky to mobilise all methods
of bringing home to the Tsar the abominable charges invented against
him. Nothing could be proved, because there was nothing to prove. But
Kerensky had his spies all the time at the palace and sent one to
Tobolsk.
Young Alexis celebrated his thirteenth birthday on the eve of departure.
The family attended a special service and afterwards offered up the
customary prayers for a safe journey. They were going into the unknown.
Here in their own familiar surroundings life had not been so terrible
towards the end of their captivity. What had the future in store? The
war was still in progress. They could not leave the country. Perhaps
when peace came, some quiet refuge would open its gates, and they could
live happily together. The girls and the boy were delighted like all
young things over the prospect of a journey. Alexis and his sisters had
quite recovered from their illness.
At midnight of the 13th August Kerensky came to the palace, assembled
the soldiers who had been selected to escort the family, and made them a
speech. “You have guarded the Tsar’s family here,” he said, “you also
will have to guard them in the new place where they are going by order
of the Council of Ministers. Remember, one does not hit a man who is
down. Bear yourselves like men, not like cads.”
He then entered the palace. The ex-Tsar’s only brother, the Grand Duke
Michael, had been permitted to come to say good-bye. Kerensky gave him
ten minutes with Nicholas, remaining in the room with them. The brothers
were never to meet again. Michael did not see any other member of the
family.
Learning that the Tsar’s family was to be removed from Tsarskoe-Selo the
men employed at the railway station refused to let out the engine. All
night the exiles waited for the train. It came at six o’clock in the
morning.