THE INFLUENCE OF RASPUTIN--MADAME WYROUBOVA--MY TUTORIAL TROUBLES
(WINTER OF 1913)
While the illness of Alexis Nicolaïevitch threw such a gloom over the
Imperial family, and the influence of Rasputin, a product of their very
distress, continued to grow, life at Tsarskoïe-Selo seemed to flow along
as smoothly as ever, at any rate to outward appearance.
At that time I still knew very little about the _staretz_, and I was
searching everywhere for material on which to base my judgment, for his
personality interested me decidedly. But it was anything but easy. The
children never mentioned Rasputin’s name, and in my presence even
avoided the slightest allusion to his existence. I realised that in so
doing they were acting on their mother’s instructions. The Czarina no
doubt feared that as a foreigner and not orthodox I was incapable of
understanding the nature of the feelings of herself and her family
towards the _staretz_, feelings which made them revere him as a saint.
By imposing this duty of silence on my pupils she allowed me to ignore
Rasputin, or conveyed to me her desire that I should behave as if I knew
nothing about him. She thus deprived me of any chance of taking sides
against a man whose very name I realised I did not know.
From another source I had been able to convince myself that Rasputin
played a very insignificant part in the life of the Czarevitch. On
several occasions Dr. Derevenko told me the amusing remarks Alexis
Nicolaïevitch had made about Rasputin in his presence. The latter
tickled his young imagination and piqued his curiosity, but had no
influence whatever with him.
As a result of Mlle. Tioutcheva’s protest, Rasputin no longer went up to
the Grand-Duchesses’ floor, and he visited the Czarevitch but seldom.
No doubt the authorities were afraid I might meet him, for the rooms I
occupied were adjoining those of my pupil. As I had required his
personal attendant to keep me informed of the smallest details of his
life, Rasputin could not have seen him without my knowledge.[16]
The children saw Rasputin when he was with their parents, but even at
that time his visits were infrequent. Weeks, and sometimes months,
passed without his being summoned to Court. It became more and more
usual to see him with Madame Wyroubova, who had a little house quite
near to the Alexander Palace. The Czar and his heir hardly ever went
there, and meetings were always very rare.
As I have already explained, Madame Wyroubova was the intermediary
between the Czarina and Rasputin. It was she who sent on to the
_staretz_ letters addressed to him and brought his replies--usually
verbal--to the palace.
Relations between Her Majesty and Madame Wyroubova were very intimate,
and hardly a day passed without her visiting her Imperial mistress. The
friendship had lasted many years. Madame Wyroubova had married very
young. Her husband was a degenerate and an inveterate drunkard, and
succeeded in inspiring his young wife with a deep hatred of him. They
separated, and Madame Wyroubova endeavoured to find relief and
consolation in religion. Her misfortunes were a link with the Czarina,
who had suffered so much herself, and yearned to comfort her. The young
woman who had had to go through so much won her pity. She became the
Czarina’s confidante, and the kindness the Czarina showed her made her
her lifelong slave.
Madame Wyroubova’s temperament was sentimental and mystical, and her
boundless affection for the Czarina was a positive danger, because it
was uncritical and divorced from all sense of reality.
The Czarina could not resist so fiery and sincere a devotion. Imperious
as she was, she wanted her friends to be hers, and hers alone. She only
entertained friendships in which she was quite sure of being the
dominating partner. Her confidence had to be rewarded by complete
self-abandonment. She did not realise that it was rather unwise to
encourage demonstrations of that fanatical loyalty.
Madame Wyroubova had the mind of a child, and her unhappy experiences
had sharpened her sensibilities without maturing her judgment. Lacking
in intellect and discrimination, she was the prey of her impulses. Her
opinions on men and affairs were unconsidered but none the less
sweeping. A single impression was enough to convince her limited and
puerile understanding. She at once classified people, according to the
impression they made upon her, as “good” or “bad,”--in other words,
“friends” or “enemies.”
It was with no eye to personal advantage, but out of a pure affection
for the Imperial family and her desire to help them, that Madame
Wyroubova tried to keep the Czarina posted as to what was going on, to
make her share her likes and dislikes, and through her to influence the
course of affairs at Court. But in reality she was the docile and
unconscious, but none the less mischievous, tool of a group of
unscrupulous individuals who used her in their intrigues. She was
incapable either of a political policy or considered aims, and could not
even guess what was the game of those who used her in their own
interests. Without any strength of will, she was absolutely under the
influence of Rasputin and had become his most fervent adherent at
Court.[17]
I had not seen the _staretz_ since I had been at the palace, when one
day I met him in the anteroom as I was preparing to go out. I had time
to look well at him as he was taking off his cloak. He was very tall,
his face was emaciated, and he had piercing grey-blue eyes under thick
bushy eyebrows. His hair was long, and he had a long beard like a
peasant. He was wearing a Russian smock of blue silk drawn in at the
waist, baggy black trousers, and high boots.
This was our one and only meeting, but it left me with a very
uncomfortable feeling. During the few moments in which our looks met I
had a distinct impression that I was in the presence of a sinister and
evil being.
* * * * *
The months slipped by, however, and I had the pleasure of observing the
progress made by my pupil. He had grown fond of me and was trying to
respond to the trust I showed in him. I still had a hard struggle
against his laziness, but the feeling that the amount of liberty
permitted him depended entirely upon the use he made of it fired his
zeal and strengthened his will.
It was fortunate that the winter had been a good one, and there had been
no other serious relapse after that at Livadia.
Of course I knew quite well that this was only an interlude, but I
noticed that Alexis Nicolaïevitch was making a real effort to control
his impulsive and turbulent nature, which had unfortunately caused
serious accidents, and I began to wonder whether I should not find his
illness, however terrible in other ways, an ally which would gradually
compel the boy to become his own master and might refine his character.
It was all a great comfort to me, but I cherished no illusions as to the
difficulties of my task. I had never realised so well before how his
environment fought against my efforts. I had to struggle against the
servile flattery of the servants and the silly adulations of some of the
people around him. It always surprised me greatly that Alexis
Nicolaïevitch’s simple nature had hitherto to a large extent resisted
the attraction of the extravagant praise he received.
I remember one occasion when a deputation of peasants from one of the
Governments of Central Russia came to bring presents to the Czarevitch.
The three men of which it was composed, on an order given by Derevenko
in a low voice, dropped on their knees before Alexis Nicolaïevitch to
offer him what they had brought. I noticed that the boy was embarrassed
and blushed violently, and when we were alone I asked him whether he
liked seeing people on their knees before him.
“Oh no, but Derevenko says it _must_ be so!”
“That’s absurd!” I replied. “Even the Czar doesn’t like people to kneel
before him. Why don’t you stop Derevenko insisting on it?”
“I don’t know. I dare not.”
I took the matter up with Derevenko, and the boy was delighted to be
freed from this irksome formality.
But a more serious element was his isolation and the circumstances under
which his education was carried on. I realised that these were almost
inevitable, and that the education of a prince tends to make him an
incomplete being who finds himself outside life if only because he has
not been subject to the common lot in his youth. Such teaching as he
receives can only be artificial, tendencious, and dogmatic. It often has
the absolute and uncompromising character of a catechism.
There are several reasons: the restricted choice of teachers, the fact
that their liberty of expression is limited by the conventions of their
official life and their regard for the exalted position of their pupil,
and, finally, that they have to get through a vast programme in a very
few years. It inevitably means that they have to resort to mere formulæ.
They proceed by assertion, and think less of rousing the spirit of
enquiry and analysis and stimulating the faculty of comparison in their
pupils than of avoiding everything which might awaken an untimely
curiosity and a taste for unofficial lines of study.
Further, a child brought up in such conditions is deprived of something
which plays a vital part in the formation of judgment. He is deprived of
the knowledge which is acquired out of the schoolroom, knowledge such as
comes from life itself, unhampered contact with other children, the
diverse and sometimes conflicting influences of environment, direct
observation and simple experience of men and affairs--in a word,
everything which in the course of years develops the critical faculty
and a sense of reality.
Under such circumstances an individual must be endowed with exceptional
gifts to be able to see things as they are, think clearly, and desire
the right things.
He is cut off from life. He cannot imagine what is going on behind the
wall on which false pictures are painted for his amusement or
distraction.
All this made me very anxious, but I knew that it would not fall to my
lot to remedy this serious state of affairs, so far as it could be
remedied. There was a custom in the Russian Imperial family that when
the Heir had reached the age of eleven he should be given a
_vospitatiet_ (educator), whose office was to direct the training and
education of the young prince. The _vospitatiet_ was usually a soldier,
as the military career seemed the best qualification for this heavy and
responsible duty. The post was usually given to a general, an
ex-director of some military school. It was a highly coveted post in
view of the powers and privileges it conferred, and particularly because
of the influence the holder might get over the Heir, an influence which
often continued during the early years of his reign.
The selection of the _vospitatiet_ was thus a vital matter. The
direction which Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s education would take depended
upon him, and I awaited his appointment with considerable anxiety.