IX
FAMILY HEARTACHES
The news from the front was bad. There were serious reverses. Father was staggered. The people and the army were dissatisfied with Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaevich, who was in command of the Russian armies at the front. A change had become imperative.
My father now decided to take over the Supreme Command of the Russian Armies in the Field. He realized that a tragic hour was at hand. The Army already had begun to show disunity, under the Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaevich who continually complained about Father, not only to Grandmother and our Aunts but also to the officers of the high command. Father thought that this older giant who was at least 6′ 4′′, would be better off in the warmer climate of the Persian front as he suffered from rheumatism. But the Grand Duke claimed that Father was jealous of his position.
Father’s decision meant going to General Headquarters and entrusting the government to others in his absence, hoping for the wholehearted support of the Duma. It also meant separation from the family. Mother believed completely that this was the correct decision, but never from that moment on was she free from constant worry.
Before his departure Mother drove with Father to the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul, then to Our Lady of Kazan to pray for guidance in his undertaking and to dedicate all, even life itself, to the task. Then they crossed the Troitsky bridge over the Neva, which was built as a memorial to the silver wedding anniversary of Alexander III and Marie Feodorovna.
At this time Mother believed she saw the sign of a cross in the sky. This saddened her, for she became worried that Father by taking command would encounter personal danger. She dreaded lest he become the victim of some fanatic assassin, as was his grandfather, Alexander II.
We realized this risk when we went to the Alexander Station to see Father entrain for Mogilev. The waiting room was filled with guards and secret police. No one was admitted except by special permit. Even ministers and relatives could not enter except by invitation. When the big, blue, Imperial train, with its double eagle crest, pulled out of the station, we saw Father standing at the wide window of his sitting room.
It was a comfort to know that each hundred feet of track was guarded by a soldier against accidents or bombs. No one knew in which car Father rode. All the church bells rang until the train was no longer in sight. The Nicholas railway on which they travelled provided a direct line to General Headquarters. Several days before the trip, roads were searched and guards were posted. As a further precaution, railroad tracks crossing the Nicholas line were removed until Father’s train passed. Once he said, “I have known from my early years that I will fall a victim for my country.” Nevertheless, Father disliked all the fuss.
With Father speeding away from us, we knew he would carry on efficiently and with determination. Of course he would miss his family, but we were going to send him letters daily and an occasional package containing needed articles. We often sent him fruit and books and occasionally flowers received from Livadia. I can still hear Mother say, as she examined the flowers while placing them in the box, “When one sees these heavenly blossoms, how can one be reconciled to this terrible war?” Whatever went into each package was lovingly and tenderly packed; and Father knew it. Mother often packed everything with her own hands and made a list of what she included. A jaeger (messenger), an aide-de-camp, or a relative waited until it was ready. Mother sometimes handed the package to him personally and he departed to the undisclosed destination where Father was. There was always a letter in the package, describing our activities, sometimes only a note from Mother, containing a language just the two of them could understand, words that made her love sing in Father’s heart.
In going to General Headquarters, Father discarded all conventionality. He went behind the lines to fight with his men in arms. He took it as a matter of faith that it was his duty to sacrifice everything in order to save Russia. He promised to do so the day he took the Crown. He said, “I shall not allow my people to be insulted and to be trampled upon by the enemy.”
His cheerful disposition gave great inspiration and happiness to the Army whom he loved more than his family; here he found happiness among his men in arms.
We heard of victories. Surely the war would soon end especially since reports from the front showed that prisoners were captured by tens of thousands at a time. “A supreme success,” Father wrote home. No wonder a few months later the Kaiser wanted to sign a peace.
Spring, 1916. Father sent word it would be impossible for him to be with us at Easter. This was his first absence from home at this important holiday, which in the Greek Orthodox religion is celebrated more fervently than Christmas. Instead he sent Mother a gift from G.H.Q., a most beautiful Easter egg, which he himself had designed. It was indeed a rare gift, made by Fabergé himself because his many workers were at the front and some of them had been killed. M. Fabergé delivered it in person, and, in our presence, Mother opened the beautifully wrapped package and exclaimed, “It is exquisite. How can human hands make such a beautiful work of art?” Then, when she opened the egg itself, five dainty miniatures of us children unfolded in a row. Father had remembered Mother’s expressed wish to own a miniature of us children. M. Fabergé beamed with pleasure, as did Mother and we children. That Easter the service was held by Father Vassiliev at the Feodorovsky Sobor and we all took Communion.
Easter afternoon was the customary time to distribute gifts to the hospital patients. These consisted of china eggs and real eggs and some sweets. We “tied” hundreds of the special china eggs. They had been decorated with the gold-crested double eagle with Mother’s initials on one side and the Red Cross emblem on the other. Usually they had the hole lengthwise from one end to the other so that a ribbon could be pulled through to be suspended below an icon under which there was a burning lamp (lampadka). Also, special Easter eggs were made by Fabergé, and Father distributed them to the Allied Mission as well as to deserving men. Mother, too, sent some of these to Petrograd to the English Hospital for Lady Sybil Grey so that she might give them to her patients. Mother also sent a beautifully hand-painted one to Lady Sybil herself in appreciation for her excellent work at the hospital, also to Lady Buchanan. Our household maids received gold enamel bijou trinkets; many girls wore a necklace of them for six weeks preceding Ascension Day.
This particular Easter afternoon, a little family argument ensued between Mother and Olga, who wanted to wear a pretty dress for this occasion. Mother insisted that Olga and Tatiana wear their nurse’s uniforms as usual. There were pleadings, opinions, and disagreements, but Mother stood her ground. We all went to the hospital to which we were assigned and we sisters agreed among ourselves that Mother was wrong and unfair to deny a change for the two young girls, who would have found pleasure in appearing before the patients in a different dress. In the evening, Alexei came running into our bedroom. He was excited and upset. He informed us that “Olga was crying.” He ran to his tutor’s room and returned. We rushed into her bedroom and tried to comfort her, assuring her that we felt Mother had been unjust. Olga soon forgot the whole thing and Mother never knew of our indignation.
Mother worried about Father’s loneliness, in the midst of responsibilities and without the comforts of home and family. However, Mother was quite surprised when Father wrote that he had no time to be lonely, and that, on his next trip home, he would take Alexei with him to G.H.Q. M. Gilliard, his Swiss tutor, and others would accompany Alexei, so that his studies need not be neglected. Dina Derevenko and Nagorny would watch over him. Dr. Fedorov was already at G.H.Q. as Father’s physician and also as lecturer to the Headquarters hospital staff.
The more Mother thought on this subject the more reasonable it seemed to her. Alexei would learn military science first hand. He would get acquainted with officers and men, and learn about war in general and foreign representatives in particular. Above all, he would be the best possible company for his Father. So Alexei left home—in tears. It was the first time he had been separated from Mother. While Alexei was away, Mother would slip into his room every day and pray on her knees beside his empty bed. His absence was a heartrending experience for her. We tried hard to comfort and console her by showing how much we, too, missed the little fellow.
So Alexei joined his Papa, but now Mother’s worries began to increase. She telephoned almost every day, asking about Father’s and Alexei’s health. She wondered whether Alexei was getting the proper food, having enough sleep. Was he careful, or was Father too busy to pay attention to Alexei? In spite of these worries she was proud to hear that they were together, sharing the same room.
While Mother worried, Alexei was proud of his association with Father. We discovered it when we arrived in Mogilev. With great pride Alexei showed us his bed beside Father’s, then added, “We say our prayers together, too. But sometimes, when I am tired and forget, Papa says them for both of us.” He could not wait to show us photographs of himself standing beside Father reviewing troops and partaking of the soldiers’ rations. Father was proud to show Russia what a real Tsarevich she had in Alexei and the tender relationship between Father and son and the country. This made Mother proud enough to endure the heartache of the little boy’s absence from home. Alexei remained at General Headquarters.
Mother talked constantly about her “boys” at the hospitals. They were all her boys. On her trips to nursing centers to visit the wounded, Olga and Tatiana accompanied her when she made her rounds. When the sickrooms were on the second floor, she had to be carried upstairs in a wheel chair. She was their symbol of courage, representing home and loved ones, and they died in peace. When the day was done she was exhausted, but it seemed to mean so much to the men that the Empress herself cared so deeply for their welfare. She could never face death philosophically. She considered each death as that of her own son, each death a fresh cause to despair at the futility of war and the greed of Wilhelm.
She was a very good Christian and followed the religious teaching, but towards the Kaiser she disregarded all the teachings of Christianity and her hatred for him was beyond description.
Mother, seeing all the young on the verge of death, suffered vicariously with them, and spent many sleepless nights pacing the floor. Often in the darkness of the night, she ordered her chauffeur to drive her to the cemetery. From grave to grave this tall shadow went and said a prayer in this quiet place for the young men. She knew them all and grieved over the loss of the lives they gave to their country. She often sent us sisters to plant flowers on the graves of these men; they were all her children.
I cannot describe more deeply nor find words that could give a better understanding and do justice to this much misunderstood woman. She insisted upon being present at the most gruesome operations. Carefully she handed the instruments to the surgeon, while one of my sisters stood by with the freshly threaded needles ready for use. Mother, looking upon these heartrending scenes, tried to give her very inner self to these sons and husbands and brothers of Russia. So did the nurses who worked heroically in our hospitals or public institutions, practically all of them volunteers. Mother never postponed taking care of important matters. She checked the reports on supplies for the hospitals to see if they were sufficient.
Mother had at first considered the question of the duration of Alexei’s stay at G.H.Q. Now she planned a hospital inspection tour in the area, so that she would be able to bring him home. But Father and General Hanbury-Williams asked Mother to let the little boy stay at G.H.Q. We left for home without Alexei.
When Father was absent for any reason, General Alexeiev was in complete command. All military matters were discussed between them; they worked together congenially. A number of times Father took Alexei with him to inspect the troops of Generals Ivanov and Brussilov and to decorate all those involved in heroic action with crosses. The soldiers were quite impressed with Alexei. In the uniform of a private, he stood proudly beside Father during military reviews. By the erectness of his posture and the tenseness of his expression, it was obvious he felt deeply responsible. They returned to G.H.Q. from the front, which was within the range of German guns. Fortunately the Kaiser did not know this. Father insisted that his food come from the field kitchen—the same that the soldiers had.
My sisters continued working; when they were tired they rested on little stools at a bedside reading, praying for the sick, or writing letters if the patients were unable to do so. Olga was deliberate in her decisions and very exact in all her work. She was responsible and successful in raising a great deal of money by her carefully planned programs of entertainment, which were always carried out successfully. Tatiana who was physically stronger was prone to take the lead in their hospital work. We heard from doctors that she was unusually gifted in this type of work, took everything calmly and systematically and with a clear head. Mother always counted on her to carry out the most pressing work with accuracy, and she never failed.
Mother also used to sit with the sick men for hours and when the officers were returning to the front, Mother was introduced to each as he passed her and gave him a prayer book. Standing next to Mother, Madame Narishkina gave each one a package containing a set of underwear, made out of silk in the “Marie-Anastasia Workshop.” It was to protect them from body lice, mainly at the front.
Alexei, when home, visited the wounded often at our hospital. He enjoyed listening to the men of war speak of their experiences at the front, never tired of hearing stories. Often he told them jokes to make them laugh. He felt indignant when the time came to leave, when the merriment might only have begun.
As to our trips no one knew the date of our departure or return. Count Fredericks, Minister of the Court, made all the arrangements. In the fall we left for an inspection of different military hospitals, stopping on our way in Mogilev. We made our headquarters on the train which stood on the track in a deep forest, some distance from the station. A few days later, Father and Alexei returned home with us. The many dangerous trips to the front, the sight of the wounded in the hospitals, and the feeling of responsibility made a deep impression on Alexei, causing him to be nervous.
While at home, Father had a long talk with Olga, and asked her to see that Mother kept all those hated people out of our house. But Mother, thinking they were helping her, continued to have them. Olga disliked Rasputin, never wanting his name brought up in her presence. When our company mentioned his name she changed the conversation. Once I heard her say to Mother, “Why do you listen to some of these women? Their minds and upbringing are so different from yours. Why do they come to you with all kinds of gossip? In their position, they should not be permitted to interfere with things that do not concern them.”
Mother answered, “But, my dear, every ruler must have contact with the people outside. That is the only way to get at the truth. Granny (Queen Victoria) had confidential informers, and consequently knew everything that was going on.”
Olga replied, “That is all right, Mother, but these people were not constantly in Granny’s company. Especially we like to have a visit with Father when he is home for a short period. You must keep your public and private lives separate.”
These unworthy, capricious people irritated Olga when they became involved in matters about which they knew nothing. Their careless words later ignited a devastating flame. Marie often was reprimanded because of friction with one of them who was a constant friend of Mother’s.
Soon Father and Alexei left for an inspection at the front; they went as far as Chernovitsy, Bukovina, where I spent some time after my escape. Could Father ever have dreamed that a child of his would ask shelter near this battered city? He was also in Warsaw, and described the battle in that area to us. He brought back many pictures, showing, as I recall, on one side of a road thousands of crosses on the graves of Russian soldiers and on the other side the enemy’s graves. We prayed God that our men would be able to defend our country.
My parents visited the Red Cross units and ambulance trains for the evacuation of the wounded village people and went to the field hospitals to say a few encouraging words to the wounded. Mother and we sisters carried envelopes containing writing paper, handkerchiefs, sweets, fruit and other articles for distribution. Father depended on us sisters for these supplies. Ambulance trains were named after us children and the train was met by that person whose name it bore. Often these trains arrived simply packed with the wounded who in some cases were even lying on the floors which were covered with straw and blankets. Frequently infections set in, when flesh was torn and bones were shattered. German bullets usually made a jagged hole, tearing the flesh. Russian bullets made a clean cut. Infections were especially prevalent during springtime when the snow had melted and the trenches were filled with polluted water which made it impossible for the men to lie down. It was difficult to move the wounded along roads cut up by the heavy artillery. Instead muddy fields had to be used for their transportation to the nearest hospital or the train; often the mobile hospital got stuck in the field and the rescue work had to be done in the dark. It was heartbreaking.
Every possible space was used. Even the Catherine Palace in Tsarskoe Selo had to be utilized. Mother also had built many new hospitals with Father’s and her own money; she appointed Madame Zizi Narishkina as the head of the hospitals. Mother also established refugee homes for the unfortunates whose farms were plundered and laid waste by artillery. For the evacuated village people, shelters and orphanages, hospitals and convalescent homes were constructed. She had built about ninety military hospitals from Petrograd down into the Ukraine.
Many men released from the hospital were unable to return to the front. Some of them were sent to farms and trades. Others learned to paint and their pictures were bought and sold at different bazaars; some were taught to weave rugs; others did wood carving; still others took up sculpture, photography, printing or bookkeeping. All this was made possible through the organized efforts of my family.
Grandmother and other members of the Imperial family did the same. She even built camps in Germany to house Russian prisoners of war there. But a Red Cross doctor and a nurse returned from Germany with a report of the terrible conditions, the mistreatment of prisoners, and the lack of heat and sanitation. They said that many wounded were infected with sores and no nurses were permitted to help them. Officers were insulted and beaten, because they refused to give the Germans information as to the situation at the front. One of the Kaiser’s sons was present and saw all these conditions and indignities. Over the Russian prisoners the Germans put Russian Jews, who had run away to avoid serving in the army. The mistreatment of the prisoners was unbelievable.
Through the Red Cross, Mother sent supplies to these camps in Germany including Bibles, books, bandages and other necessities. She also helped to organize camps near the railroad stations in Siberia for German and Austrian prisoners of war; many such prisoners were sent to work on farms. These camps were well regulated as she was eager to demonstrate that Russia could lead in the humane treatment of prisoners. For this she was deeply criticized on the ground that she was saving the lives of our enemy. Maybe later the same men were the killers of her own family.
Often my sisters came with a story of some unusual occurrences. One young patient coming out of anesthesia sang and moved his arms as if conducting an orchestra. When he was told later what he had done and that Mother was present, he apologized, fearing he might have used some vulgar words. Another said that he had received a letter from his girl friend. He kept on repeating all the sweet words only a bride-to-be can write to her fiancé.
We looked forward to the evening when we could snuggle around Mother in her room. Usually there was a letter from Father. These arrived by special messenger and were delivered to Mother by Mother’s ladies in waiting or maids. Mother read parts to us and afterwards seemed more contented. She preferred to open her own personal mail. Mother eyed her other letters with suspicion, turning them over. When she read a line or two, her face grew dark, her eyes flashed anger; she tore them to bits and threw them in the wastebasket. With all the misery in the world, many found time to criticize her and were too cowardly to sign their name. God forgive them for the unpleasant hours they caused Mother, not to mention the injury to our war effort. She said the Germans used the same method of propaganda as did the Japanese in 1905.
Father never allowed us girls to discuss these unpleasant matters. Once when Father was absent, I mimicked one of the suspected trouble-makers. I was promptly reprimanded, then everyone burst out in laughter. My technique worked. The next morning Mother’s eyes were red and swollen. She said she had read late and her eyes hurt. It was obvious to us that she had cried herself to sleep. We four sisters got off a letter to Father begging him to come home for a day or two. Father and Alexei arrived. Now Mother was a new person. She gave all her heart and soul to Father, and Alexei’s entertaining chatter lifted her spirits. Her eyes were no longer red and swollen; instead they glistened. Evenings found the whole family gathered together in Mother’s boudoir. If one had looked in, he would have been impressed by the harmony in that room.
Mother expressed her wish to have a little house, away from everybody, where she could have peace and quiet. We wished so, too. Mother’s and Father’s love for each other would have made a home out of any humble dwelling.
All too soon Father had to leave. Alexei was so diverting, we wished we could keep him home, but the little fellow was too proud of his association with Father even to listen to such a suggestion. Good-byes were hard on Mother, and we often wondered whether we had been wise in asking Father to come from G.H.Q. After he left, Mother prayed daily for his safe return; she was proud of his service to the country.
Almost on the very day of Father’s departure, the anonymous letters began to come in greater numbers. Mother almost dreaded reading the numerous letters because of their venomous content. One of the letters was signed by Princess Vasilchikova. She accused Mother of many things and claimed to be speaking for the women of Petrograd. She suggested that Mother leave Russia and go back to Germany where she had come from. How little she knew that Mother came from the little province of Hesse and had no connection with Prussia. I wondered what this woman thought the Empress’ children would do? Obviously this and other letters were inspired by those who wanted to overthrow the Imperial family and its government in order to gain control of the country, as they eventually did.
Mother even was accused of sitting behind a curtain at the top of the stairway of her maple sitting room which let into Father’s study, listening to all the reports given Father on the progress on the war. These reports she was supposed to transmit to Kaiser Wilhelm. This ridiculous gossip was not only believed by many in Russia but was even circulated in foreign countries. The story was so impossible it hardly needs refuting. To reach the spot, Mother would have had to climb some dozen steps to the top of the balcony room, which she could not have done because of her heart condition. Besides, Mother never was left alone. She always had a personal attendant with her on duty, day and night. In a room next to Mother’s bedchamber, a bell was connected with the maid’s room in which there was a narrow bed and a comfortable armchair; also a small table on which were magazines and books for the maid’s relaxation. The other personnel were dismissed at 11:00 P.M. Most of her help had been with Mother since her marriage; we parted with some, when we left for Tobolsk. Her loyalty to her adopted country was unquestionable and her personal dislike for the Kaiser and his government was almost an obsession with her.
Another rumor, freely circulated, was to the effect that Mother had been visited secretly by the German General Ludendorff. This and many other similar rumors were part of the propaganda to destroy Russia by attacking the heart of the Russian government. Mother was depressed and exhausted as these accusations multiplied. Some of the writers demanded the discharge of all officials with foreign names. This would have meant dismissing people like faithful Trina Schneider whose loyalty was beyond suspicion. In the end she, too, was killed outside of Perm. She had taught both Mother and Aunt Ella the Russian language. Now she served as a reader and a governess to Marie and myself. Some of the people had German names but were Scandinavian; others were descendants of people brought to Russia during the reign of Catherine the Great.
With Father at G.H.Q., there was much he could not follow first hand. Mother felt she must report to him everything that came to her notice. All the praise, criticism, advice, countless suggestions of many individuals were brought to her that she might pass them on to Father. Sometimes these were important messages, sometimes they were petty and trivial in comparison with the momentous questions that confronted the nation. Mother was eager for advice but unfortunately most of the suggestions came from those she had the least reason to trust, persons who were suspected of being the real instigators of the propaganda against her. More and more she felt that most of those who volunteered to advise her were serving their own self-interest.
Reports often brought depressing information: that Father’s orders, his telegrams, were purposely sabotaged, and often were replaced by others. Inefficiency and betrayals were noticeable. Father was frequently imposed upon as a result of his kindness and generosity. Mother said, “He must make his will felt, inspire wholesome fear through firmness and discipline. To inspire love is not enough.” With her own background Mother often wished that Russia had some of the efficiency of the Germans. She thought Russia needed more ingenuity and greater economic independence. She felt the need of more railroads for the transportation of troops and supplies, though one Siberian line had just been completed during the war (in 1915).
Petrograd was full of crosscurrents. One said this, another said that. Mother did not know whom she should believe. In spite of slanders that were heaped on her, she still wanted to find out the truth to pass on to Father. The people were tired, tired of everything, especially of war. Whatever the reason, they were in a careless mood in their attitude toward their country. No one had brought proof to back up their accusations of Anna and Rasputin. These two, in Mother’s opinion, were continually persecuted. Had not Anna given every kopeck of her compensation for injury in a terrible train wreck to establish a hospital for convalescent soldiers so that they might receive training in some trade? The hospital was so successful that before the Revolution hundreds of invalids had been trained and she had purchased the land on which to build an additional building. What greater proof of her loyalty was needed? Could anyone know better than Mother the power of Rasputin’s prayers? Had she not witnessed his miracle on Alexei? Now all she wanted for Father was divine guidance to see things straight and to bring Russia safely through this ordeal. Had not Rasputin used his foreknowledge which made him see what others could not? He had foretold several events which later came true. Once he predicted that our death would follow his death and that in the event of a member of the family surviving, he or she would meet with disaster in 1960.
Another accusation was that Mother was hiding Uncle Ernest in the palace. Uncle Ernie had been in Russia with his family in 1912. It was at the new palace in the Crimea. That was the last time he visited Russia. During the war, the Kaiser made it so disagreeable for Uncle Ernest that, in 1918, he abdicated. He and his father had worked so hard to make their country economically sound. We had a few letters from Aunt Victoria, Mother’s sister in England. Prince Louis of Battenberg, her husband, was the First Sea Lord of the British Admiralty. Pressure was brought against him also during the war hysteria so that he was forced to resign his commission, in spite of his loyalty to his adopted country, Great Britain.
When the war broke out, the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich and his wife were in Germany. They were subjected to considerable mistreatment so that, a year after, he died. Father was furious when he received the report of the abuses from the Grand Duke himself. Grandmother also was passing through Germany at the outbreak of the war, and she, too, was subjected to the same indignities. The death of the Grand Duke Constantine was a great loss, not only to the family, but to all Russia. The Grand Duke was a most brilliant scholar, poet and patron of music and drama. He wrote plays, essays, poems, using a pseudonym. He translated Hamlet into Russian. He wrote a play entitled King of Judea. It was a magnificent production, in which he took part. Even when his health was failing, he continued to promote the arts. The last production in which I saw him on the stage was Hamlet. He played the leading role of the Danish Prince himself. Some of his children had parts in it. During the last performance my family was present. Alexei sat with Mother in the front row and excitedly called out, “Mother, Mother, do you know that is Uncle Constantine! And that there is an officer of the Guards?” Uncle Constantine sponsored a number of young people in music and drama. He had a theatre of his own and designed his own stage settings.
He was deeply religious and brought up his family in the best Christian tradition. Despite his good life he suffered great misfortune. Shortly before he died, his son-in-law was killed in the war. Earlier, one of his sons, Prince Oleg, had been a battle casualty. While the Germans were retreating Oleg followed them on his horse when a wounded German officer played dead and shot him; he soon died in the hospital. The names of his children were all taken from early history. During the revolution, three more sons were brutally murdered, together with Aunt Ella, near Alapaevsk.
I remember Aunt Mavra, Constantine’s wife, and one of her daughters having tea with us for the last time, shortly before the revolution. Always deeply religious, they crossed themselves for safe driving before they entered their car. Whoever could have known that we would never see one another again? Still Aunt Mavra lived through all the tragedy that befell her innocent family.
Mother seldom came to the dinner table these days. She was served in one of her rooms and we joined her after the meal. At that time Father’s letters were read and reread. Usually there was a clever one from Alexei, too. His note was always so cheering to Mother that we hoped she could retain the mood till bedtime. To break the monotony, I planned on entertaining them, even though it made me feel sad rather than lighthearted, but, once I started, everybody began to laugh and we were soon all in the midst of great merriment.
Watching Mother carefully, when she looked troubled, I sprang a new joke or some lighthearted remark to cheer her up again. In this self-appointed task I had a helper. I found a book of funny stories, which I kept in one of the drawers in the round table in the music room, and in privacy I delved through it. It contained many jokes which I did not understand, but, believing they must be funny, I put my own interpretation upon these and tried them out on the family in the evening.
On Father’s last trip to the capital, his appearance before the Duma was a great success. In his speech he urged unity and warned that only unity would bring victory—the victory he reminded them was so near. Hearing his inspiring message, everyone was optimistic. There was country-wide rejoicing, especially when shortly afterward the news came that Erzerum, which had been stubbornly held by the Turks for so long, had fallen.
Father said that he was willing to grant liberal concessions but he feared that this was not the time for great, radical changes. They would have too damaging an effect during wartime.
Sir John Hanbury-Williams was in Petrograd for several days and saw Olga and Tatiana at this presentation of Father’s at the Tauride Palace (Duma). He afterwards said to Olga: “Knowing your Imperial Father the way I do, I am most sorry for His Majesty; so is all the High Command, for there is not one single word of truth in all the propaganda circulating. He assuredly does not deserve such malicious criticism.” Hanbury-Williams thought that Father’s address was most enthusiastically accepted and would bring good results. However, it created apprehension among the enemy who seemed to be losing hope of winning the war. Nevertheless, it provoked more damaging propaganda. Father repeated that he would not yield to Germany. More than ever, Wilhelm made Father his target. He aimed at him with traitors who spread their lies insidiously underground like the roots of a tree. There were attacks on Father from all directions—a whispering campaign spread to injure his reputation before his people. Of course Mother already had come in for her share of this terrible barrage of falsehood; in her case the slander centered around Anna and Rasputin. But that only made Mother stubborn, and she closed her ears and no longer would believe anyone around her. She had felt for a long time that she was doomed to death from the day she set her foot on Russian soil.