PART III
Arrest And Exile
XIV
ARREST
It was decided to separate Mother from the rest of the family. But Father objected, saying that it would be cruel to take Mother from her sick children. At last it was conceded that Father should stay downstairs in his apartment and Mother on the second floor with us.
Now that we all were under arrest, Mother was allowed to remain with the sick children upstairs and Father was permitted to join his family at mealtime. But all the conversation at the table had to be carried on only in the Russian language. I was told that our private wing of the palace was strongly guarded by a new kind of guard. They were noisy and overbearing. Mother warned everybody to be courteous to the sentry.
Had we children not been ill, Father would have insisted that we go to England; at least the children if Mother had refused to leave. From what he said later, we were convinced that he himself would not have left Russia.
At once Kerensky appointed his communist friend Korovichenko, whom he called his governor, as a commissar over us. This man proved to be rude, dishonest, insulting, ignorant, and he quarrelled with everyone in our household, disturbing and annoying us every hour of the day. The guards were selected for the same qualities as those of their masters. We were grateful when General Kornilov sent Colonel Kobylinsky and Commissar Makarov to replace the cruel Korovichenko.
From my sick bed all this was hard to imagine. I could not believe it, until I was able to sit up by the window. I noticed that the appearance and the action of the soldiers and officers were not the same. Gradually our health improved. Tatiana had temporarily lost her hearing and we had to write communications for her. Alexei’s condition was still not up to par.
To kill our dull moments we played light games, worked on word games and other puzzles and listened to French history read to us by Mlle. Schneider.
We were told that Kerensky was coming to see us. The name Kerensky brought terror to our hearts. Was he not the instigator behind the treatment that Father was receiving? We waited, dreading his visit. When the time of his arrival drew near, we were filled with antagonism and fear. We were told that it was this enraged man, Kerensky, and his communist friend, Korovichenko, who had assembled our employees in the large hall. Kerensky told them that they were no longer working for us, and that they were from now on to take orders only from those who paid their wages. He meant of course the Provisional Government, who appropriated the money belonging to the people of Russia and us. But they themselves were paid to live in an abundance such as one could only read about in fiction.
Some of the servants were bribed to spy on us and Anna. A few servants hated Anna to such an extent that they notified Kerensky of Anna’s improved condition. Kerensky angrily ordered Anna to dress at once, and she was then taken to prison. Alexei never before heard such rough voices and he burst out crying. “Will he kill us?” he asked his tutor. Those two men not only disturbed the family but upset everybody. I saw these men passing by on their way to the classroom where they were to see my parents. Father brought Kerensky into a room and introduced my two older sisters, by merely saying, “My daughters, Olga and Tatiana.” Marie and I were still in bed, recovering from our illness.
When I first saw Kerensky, a man of medium height, he appeared to be nervously twisting his finger. His face was pale and ugly, with small greenish eyes imbedded in a peculiarly shaped head, which was flat on top. His brown hair stood up similar to General Ruzsky’s. Whenever I see a man like this, it always has an unpleasant connotation for me. Outside in the hall and behind him, there was a committee of workers, allegedly soldiers and sailors but really nothing but released convicts, untidy, rough-looking individuals, who were armed with daggers and hand grenades. We were frightened. At first, I thought I was seeing this nightmare with my feverish eyes.
With the help of foreign spies, and convicts released by Kerensky and the new leaders, these traitors were anxious to break the morale of the armies. They told the soldiers that the land was to be divided among them, but first they should return home in order to receive their share of land. They said that it was a case of first come, first served, and inasmuch as capital punishment had been abolished, wholesale desertions from the armed forces resulted.
In the meantime the munitions and other factories fell into the hands of the new government and many were set on fire. So the soldiers, lacking supplies, had no choice but to desert their posts. All this helped the enemy who was ready to collapse. Thanks to Kerensky for the ruination of the army.
When the arrest of my family, especially of Father, became known to the public, it caused a harmful effect on the morale of the Army, and in general the situation became dangerous. Many soldiers left their posts in panic; even in Tsarskoe Selo, Father’s own military escort, not from choice but from fear, displayed red ribbons. The rebels were freeing criminals who were breaking into wine cellars and becoming intoxicated.
The snow was very heavy that winter, and the new leaders cared little about having it cleared away. There was only a narrow space available where Father and the others could walk about. This proved actually to be a godsend to Father, because exercise was vital to his health and was the only activity permitted him at this time. Each day from the window I watched Father shovel snow. No doubt that for Father it was much more than exercise. His physical exertions enabled him to maintain his mental faculties in every respect.
In the beginning he had an unpleasant experience, during his outdoor exercise, when he was allowed to walk in only a small area close to the palace. One day on his return from his walk, he extended his hand to one of the soldiers, but the man refused to take it. This was hard on Father and made him realize the extent and intensity of the propaganda against him. Father’s philosophical attitude toward these incidents made him a greater hero in our eyes.
To us children, Kerensky was at first a beast, a dragon waiting to devour us. His repeated visits kept us filled with terror. He thought at first that he could come to the palace at any time and wander about in our own home, without permission from the proper authority and without Father’s consent. Kerensky, always accompanied by the Marshal of the Court, followed by a messenger, was received in Father’s study.
Father was always courteous, wishing to make everything easy for the new government. But this man Kerensky at first did not seem to know the meaning of courtesy. After a while he saw Father’s ready cooperation and became quite human. We children began to feel more relaxed in his presence. After several conversations with Kerensky, our parents felt more confidence in him. However, Mother could not forget the recent injustice she had suffered, and she hoped her innocence was now proven. But Kerensky had made no attempt to inform the public of the true situation at the palace. He was responsible for Anna’s arrest, and Mother could not forgive him, especially since she believed that Anna was still ill when she was sent to prison. Madame Lili Dehn also had to leave the palace at the same time. Moreover Madame Zizi Narishkina became ill with pneumonia and left the palace because Mother felt she would receive better care at a hospital.
This wise little lady was a favorite of my Father whom she had known since his childhood. She was like a mother to our Mother. Her kindness and simplicity was written all over her face. She insisted that she be addressed as Madame instead of Princess, yet she was a true-blooded Princess. Among us she called my Father Nicky. In spite of her old age, she too had been a victim of unfair criticism. It caused so much resentment that the newspapers had been forced to retract their false stories.
Even my Aunt Olga, who loved peasants, had been condemned because she enjoyed visiting and accepting their hospitality.
Our prison hours were well regulated. We were permitted two walks during the day, between 11-12 and 2-5. With nervous excitement we waited the designated hour, eager not to miss one second of the out-of-doors. As the clock struck eleven, we and the staff gathered in the semicircular room where we were to meet the guards who were to accompany us on our walks. We had to wait sometimes as much as one half hour. This meant our walk was sometimes curtailed that much. We felt cheated, and the thought that Father could do nothing about it made us feel worse. We discovered that the more we fretted, the longer the delay; so we learned to wait submissively. The key to the circular room was held by the commissar on duty, and the other doors, including the balcony facing the Znamensky Cathedral and the gate, were sealed. We had to wait until the commandant appeared with the key to open the door. Since Korovichenko was as a rule basking himself in the sun, he made it a habit of being late. Even the sentries hated the sight of this man. When we did go out finally, we walked briskly to cover lost ground. Sometimes we crossed the bridge over the ravine, since the area was less exposed to the public view. But because of demonstrations our afternoon walks soon were scheduled later and we were outdoors until 8:00 P.M. Our friends helped us with our garden work. M. Gilliard proved well-nigh indispensable.
At first we had no news from our relatives. But we were pleasantly surprised when several letters came to Father and to Tatiana from Aunt Xenia at Ai-Todor in the Crimea. The letters giving us news of the family were the only joy we had had since our arrest. Our mail was censored and parts of the letters we received were inked out.
Probably Aunt Xenia found our letters dry and uninteresting. But we wrote them reluctantly, as in a daze—we so strongly felt the blow of the happenings in our country and to its people. The shock was so great that no outsider ever will know the feeling unless he lives through a similar experience, that is, if he loved his country. We were glad Granny was there too. It was her first stay in the Crimea since the death of her husband, Alexander III. We had been wanting to write to them but we feared repercussions.
For months we waited for a reply to our letters which we were obliged to leave unsealed for censorship. We hoped that our coming departure would take us to the Crimea to be together with the rest of the family. Father hungrily read the newspapers, even though the ones he received had been thoroughly censored, parts of them inked out. All too often the papers were withheld altogether. Father read every word carefully to find some clue to the real truth. One of our best sources of information came from the various members of our household. Before long they too no longer were free to leave the palace. All around our home there was a strong guard posted, especially in the small garden in front of Mother’s windows and the garden gate across from the Znamensky Cathedral, which was the closest to Mother’s balcony. She was very much disturbed, having these men watch her windows; she never could look out. During this time we saw some one drive in and out of the courtyard in Father’s favorite automobile, a Packard sledge (sleigh). Kerensky of course often used our private cars, chauffeurs, and even our valuable horses.
After midnight another unpleasant incident occurred. Several uncouth revolutionists, headed by a Pole named Mstislavsky, came from Petrograd. They proceeded to show their thievish authority by ordering the telephone and telegraph lines from the outside disconnected. After a great deal of bickering and fighting with the guards, who would not let them enter the grounds, Mstislavsky broke down the gate with his heavy artillery trucks. It caused such a noise that a large number of persons collected on the avenue and loud voices were heard from the angry crowd. This noise awakened the household. The bandits forced themselves towards and into the palace, in spite of everything. They were armed and threatened the officers on duty, “Shoot us, or we will shoot you.” Count Benckendorff and Prince Dolgorukov came down and told Mstislavsky and his companions that it was impossible for them to talk to the Emperor. The intruders were asked to produce the required permit from General Kornilov, commanding the troops in the area at this time. The officers on duty then said, “You arrest us, or we will arrest you.” Notwithstanding, the bandits went upstairs to the gallery room. There they encountered Father who was walking toward them. Without a word the bandits ran away in terror.
Kerensky was held responsible for this incident, having revealed to Mstislavsky the anticipated departure of the Imperial family for England via Murmansk.
Subsequently we heard that Mstislavsky ordered many innocent families shot, people who were in his way; also he and his friends seized from them anything to their liking.
We shortly learned that all escape routes were already blocked.
Korovichenko’s transfer lifted our hopes. His place was filled by Colonel Eugene Kobylinsky, an officer of the Imperial Guard. We were thankful to General Kornilov for sending this wonderful man, who served my family faithfully in spite of many dangers to his own life. He was sincerely anxious to alleviate our condition and was determined to save us. But with many hundreds of men in our guard he was helpless, as any action of his would have drawn suspicion upon him. He went with us to Tobolsk and stayed there until four days before our departure, when he became dangerously ill. Consequently, we did not see this kind man again before we left for Ekaterinburg. Another well-disposed man was Commissar Makarov, a very intelligent and cultured person with a great deal of tact and knowledge of several languages.
He had a prison record for having killed a policeman. For this, this fine looking man paid fifteen years of his young life before he was released. He accepted his punishment as having been deserved. His imprisonment had not embittered him, and his gentle, kind manners had not changed.
Many of the guards we had known from our childhood. Whenever possible Colonel Kobylinsky tried to have these men accompany us during our walks, as these guards could not tolerate an abusive attitude of others toward us. Nevertheless, he did not dare to defend us. By this time the Provisional Government had become convinced that Father had no intention of making trouble for them. Father eagerly followed the course of the war and grieved at the way it was going. If only he could have now had a part in it, even as a private!
There were secret messages suggesting our escape to Germany. Father answered, “No, we shall not escape like convicts.” One day Father was walking, Alexei was sitting on the bench, with his dog Joy at his feet, and we sisters were a short distance from Father, when a large enclosed car rapidly drove in and two young men in it wanted Father and Alexei to get into the car and escape with them. Father was very upset by it. He said, “Go at once.” Soon after more new guards appeared.
During this time we became tired of eating cabbages and carrots. We longed for something different. Those days no green vegetables came out of the greenhouses. Father saw the rich fields for labor lying open to us, and he was willing to work. So, in the spring, Father suggested a vegetable garden be planted in an open space where some trees had been cut down. We were all eager for outdoor exercise. Count Fredericks talked it over with Colonel Kobylinsky who gave permission to go ahead. We were now full of enthusiasm, with plenty of ideas of fresh food as our objective.
Father began to work, and even Mother, for the first time, cheerfully was willing to leave the house in the afternoon. She was wheeled in her chair into the garden. She sat under a tree near the brook, while the guards paced back and forth on the bridge. Mother seldom walked those days. We planted the seeds and watered the vegetable beds from a barrel. As I worked, I thought of the words in the beautiful Russian song which said:
Because of the demonstrations, we worked late in the day, often till 8:00 P.M. In the evening Father read to us while we were sewing or knitting. When the first green shoots appeared, we were thrilled with the thought of salads within a month. The seedlings grew into bushy plants. The blossoms became tiny beans. In another week or so we would have our first harvest from sixty luxuriant beds in all. Spring, which always seems to hold a special appeal for all Russians, was beautiful but sad for us.