XX
DANGER
After Nikolsky and Pankratov left, Colonel Kobylinsky brought back the key to the balcony which Nikolsky had taken away. Now Mother was again able to sit on the balcony in the sun. For several months we lived quietly and peacefully. But when the new guards came, our lives saddened.
One day Olga was found crying. She had been unhappy. She said that she had been observing the developments and believed that we were doomed. Father sent for Colonel Kobylinsky who admitted that danger was creeping upon us. Prince Dolgorukov and General Tatishchev believed she was right and thought we should escape before the new commissar from Ekaterinburg arrived. But our parents refused to leave Russia, and would not think of separation. We humbly bowed our heads and accepted the inevitable.
All of a sudden a change came into our lives. The Bolsheviks turned their binoculars on us. One day Colonel Kobylinsky informed Father that the Imperial family must go on rations, because keeping us was too heavy a burden on the Communist regime. Each one of us was to receive 600 rubles per month, the same as the soldiers. Father knew nothing about the cost of the operation of our establishment. He asked M. Gilliard, who was the most practical of all, to set up a budget and Prince Dolgorukov and General Tatishchev to help him. When they came with figures, it was concluded that ten servants had to be discharged. My parents became terribly distressed and made all kinds of excuses: this one had a sick mother, another had an invalid son, a third was the sole supporter of his motherless children. What would happen to all these families who came here from Tsarskoe Selo? It went on and on. At last Gillek (M. Gilliard) and General Tatishchev made their own decision, and ten servants came to thank us for treating them so kindly in the past. It was sad losing them, though we could not foresee how fortunate they were.
The new commissar from Ekaterinburg arrived and we heard that he had brought with him about one hundred men, all fanatical Marxists. He was a red-faced brute by the name of Zaslovsky, with a bad reputation.
No sooner had the new young men arrived than trouble developed between them and the old soldiers who had refused them entry to our residence. They became angry and threatened to storm the house. Colonel Kobylinsky and Zaslovsky were bargaining all night downstairs. We dressed and sat up expecting trouble. Long after midnight we heard familiar voices in the corridor. Colonel Kobylinsky sent for more guards to insure our safety. We heard some foreign voices coming from outside the gate, then a loud voice saying, “I am following the orders of Colonel Kobylinsky. I cannot let you in. Then speak to him.” As a result of this incident Colonel Kobylinsky wanted to resign but Father persuaded him to stay with us. We felt that his presence was helpful to us, even though we knew that he had no power over the new soldiers.
Father believed that at least ten of the new men were disguised former officers. However, if they were former officers they were helpless, because Zaslovsky ordered more men from Tomsk. These men boasted that they had killed the director of the Cadet School and destroyed the headquarters of the Fourth Siberian Army Corps stationed in Tomsk. They said that they had burned the house on Father’s estate in the town of Bernaul on the river Ob and had killed the superintendent in charge. Father had inherited several big estates with large milk and cheese plants in Siberia. Tons of these products were distributed every year to different charitable institutions. Father had visited his estates during the construction of the Trans-Siberian railroad. Zaslovsky bragged that they had already destroyed the gold smelting works and had taken away all the available gold. They also tried to plunder the monastery at Tomsk but were driven away by the monks. This is the monastery that was referred to previously.
Zaslovsky brought us much misery and inexpressible horror right from the start. He ordered us to keep from five to six feet away from the fence, and to go out only under guard and only for thirty minutes twice a day. Our outdoor exercise consisted mainly of cutting wood. We performed this humble work in the back of the building cheerfully and without complaining, and by so doing we helped members of our household whose duty it was to supply the house with wood. Zaslovsky had our house searched and several items belonging to Father were taken away.
Each day brought some new deprivations or restrictions and some fresh heckling by the guards who took pleasure in humiliating us. In return we acquiesced in their demands, disarmingly, at least outwardly. Following Father’s example we accepted everything. Among the soldiers only a few good men were left. In the past, each relay of guards had started out to be severe, then gradually softened. But not these men. They were a dangerous lot. In order to avoid trouble Father and his friends—all of them understood carpentry—had earlier built a ladder which led outside to the top of the roof of an unused greenhouse, which had already been converted into a chicken coop. They also built a platform where we could sit in the sun without being seen from the street.
More restrictions were put on us. The last two days before Lent are by custom days of merriment during which the people enjoy themselves at concerts, balls and in many other ways. Zaslovsky, fearing riots by the people, forbade us to leave the house during those two days. The schools were closed and there was a constant flow of students from the gymnasium. They were gay; we heard the bells ringing; the children were expecting to see the monkey and to hear the organ grinder, who had stopped before the house for Alexei to witness the spectacle and to hear the children sing and play. But Zaslovsky had locked the balcony door and had taken the key back to the office. We heard loud voices outdoors; the guards were driving the students and the youngsters away with the butts of their rifles. The youngsters ran and the students cried: “Go back from where you came, you unwelcome guests.” Zaslovsky said he would shoot anyone who came near the fence. In spite of the warning, the passers-by continued to walk past the house, even more than before. When the people saw us in the window, they always removed their caps and bowed low.
Sorrow and dread were our constant companions. We woke up with sadness, and went to bed in sadness. Father tried to read to us, but the silent interchange of fear muddled the thread of the story he read. He tried to make his voice firm and hopeful but it did not have the ring of former days.
Up to now we were able to send and receive some letters from our relatives in Ai-Todor in the Crimea. Now we heard that the mail service was being discontinued. However, we continued to receive some letters. Since Zaslovsky’s arrival we had stopped writing letters as we knew that they would not be mailed. The last letter we received from the Crimea told us that the family there had been separated. Aunt Xenia with her family and Grandmother had been moved to the chateau of Dyulber, belonging to the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevich. Though they were not far from the Youssoupoffs at Koreiz, still they could not see each other.
A few weeks before our departure for Ekaterinburg we received a letter from the family through a peasant woman from the Crimea. She had carried this letter surreptitiously thousands of miles. Through her, in return, we sent a letter to the family in the Crimea, together with a photograph of the family—one of the few we had taken in Tobolsk. It was our last link with Granny and our aunts. The very last letter we received came from Irene Tatishcheva. A few of our letters were returned to us undelivered.
We huddled closer together, not so much for warmth, as to feel the strength of each other’s presence. In the evening we dreaded to think of what the morning would bring. Morning returned with the same overhanging fear. Mother’s first words were: “Thank God for the night just past and for the breaking of the new day. Also for giving me such a good family. The Almighty is watching over us.” Then Father read from the Bible some reassuring message.
Our brief walks around the yard brought us no inspiration. They were cut shorter. Mother assured us that God was with us even in our trials. No harm could come to those who had faith in Him. He is putting us to the test. What good is our religion if we are not victorious over suffering? So we continued to endure, brightening the darkness in our hearts with the trust that in time God would lead the way to our safety.
Not being able to attend church was our hardest punishment. Mother especially missed this spiritual support. It had helped us. We had found there the answer to our prayers, and temporary relief. Tatiana made her decision to sacrifice her life in search of theological subjects. She became stronger and firmer in her belief and spent part of the day in reading the Testaments. Mother was a tower of strength to us. She was full of resourcefulness and hope, continually replenished by faith. We felt sure our fate was in the hands of God. This trust in Him made Father calm and resigned. He was one of those who had the truth within him. He carried his grief silently and maintained his high spirits for the sake of his family. We shuddered at the thought of being separated and clung closer together.
Suffering had made Mother meek and more tender and her soul had grown stronger. Under Mother’s influence Olga composed a prayer which follows:
Zaslovsky hated everybody. He even kicked our friendly dog Lisa, because the dog wanted to make friends with him. He also beat the dog in the yard and stepped on our cat without any reason. He said that before he left he would do away with all our pets. We suffered and our animals clung to us. When they heard his loud voice downstairs, they all ran and hid under Mother’s chaise longue. Eventually the soldiers drove Zaslovsky away and he went back to Ekaterinburg.
In the meantime our finances were getting low and Anna Vyrubova made an arrangement with a banker named Yaroshinsky to send us some money through Soloviev, the husband of Matriona, Rasputin’s older daughter. Marie and I knew Yaroshinsky from Tsarskoe Selo. He had financed Marie’s and my hospital and we had seen him occasionally. He spoke poor Russian with a Polish accent. He told us once that he had an uncle who was a cardinal in Italy. Soloviev was entrusted with several thousands of rubles and some letters to be delivered to us. We did not know Soloviev but knew that Anna trusted him and that he had delivered some letters to Tobolsk previously. We received only thirty thousand rubles out of the three hundred thousand that were sent to us by Anna. Later in Ekaterinburg we were shown copies of all letters and records of the money, which Soloviev took as a payment for spying on us. Because he was the husband of Matriona, Anna had confidence in him in financial and other matters. Dr. Botkin told Father that Yurovsky said that Soloviev and Yaroshinsky were friends of General Pilsudski, Lenin and Trotsky and of Voykov (who later, it seems, signed the death verdict of the Imperial family).
We still had about 35-40 employees whose wages we were unable to meet. Food became a problem. We had no sugar, coffee or butter. When the good people of Tobolsk learned of the conditions in the Governor’s house they sent us whatever they had. Some of the merchants and the heads of the city had met Father in 1891 when, on his way home from Japan, he had made an extensive tour throughout Siberia. At that time the museum of Tobolsk was established and Father deposited a great deal of money in the Imperial banks for the upkeep of this museum. Magazines and articles were sent to us and we read them with interest. Incidentally it was twenty-seven years later, in July also, when the murder took place in Ekaterinburg, July 16th-17th, 1918.
One morning we awoke to an acute misery; Alexei was ill. The dreaded disease had returned. And now our previous deprivations seemed insignificant. The youngster’s resistance had been lessened. He was thin and unable to take the food offered him. As always Mother nursed him. Her care for him was the same but her affection for him had changed. My heart tells me not to say that, but conscience tells me otherwise. Alexei sensed it. I remember how much Mother loved her precious “Agoo” and wanted to have him close to her on the chaise longue. I can still see this little boy under a blue silk and lace cover lying on her chaise, or later, his hand in her hand, going into his bedroom to say a prayer. M. Gilliard and all the others knew of the change on Mother’s part, and they gave Alexei more love now to make up for the loss of a part of his Mother’s affection. We sisters became much closer to him, and our hearts formed as one and this one we gave to our unfortunate brother and to our Father who suffered so much.
Following the incident when Nagorny was caught carrying a letter from Alexei to Dr. Derevenko’s son, the Doctor was not permitted to come to the house. But now his services were needed and he, at last, was allowed to see his patient.
When the conditions became dangerously bad, following Nikolsky’s departure, Father wrote an important document about the war, which was placed in a safe place until a change in the Government should occur. At that time it was to be released to the proper authorities. It was left in care of four men and it was endorsed and countersigned by at least four persons.
A treaty between Bolshevik Russia and Germany was now in the process of being signed. We were told that one of its provisions was that the Imperial family was to be brought to Moscow unharmed. Evidently the Germans suspected that our captors were dangerous and would not spare our lives. Father feared if the family went to Moscow, he might be forced to sign the treaty in order to save his family’s life. He said: “Now the people know who are the real traitors to Russia. All these years they have been accusing Mother for being a spy and wanting to sign a separate treaty with Germany.”
Father blamed the downfall of the Russian Army—our national pride—on Kerensky, Guchkov, Ruzsky and Shulgin. He said that now Germany would get all kinds of concessions, which would reduce Russia to poverty, but that Germany would not enjoy these concessions. The treaty was prepared in advance by Tsederbaum, Bronstein, Apfelbaum, Rosenfeld and others—better known to the world today as Lenin, Trotsky, Zinoviev, Kamenev. Not many Russians among them, but traitors. I well remember that as we sat one evening, Father said to Prince Dolgorukov, “Valia, you remember the time when I refused even to consider a separate treaty with Germany. I would not accept any appeasement after the loss of thousands of lives and all the property damage. I was determined to bring Germany to her knees. Even if I had signed a separate treaty, Germany would have paid for all the damage done, and now she is going to get from the traitors anything she wants.” Father went on, “Germany will not enjoy the things she has done to us, and our Allies will not either. They are digging their own graves and soon they will be buried in them. If Russia falls, the whole world will topple with her, and within fifty years from now there will be no democracy left, believe me, Valia.” I remember the last words as though they were spoken only yesterday.
By betraying his country he would have bought freedom for himself and his family. Every soldier knew that Russia was betrayed and that the propaganda about my family was totally untrue. But they were helpless. Father never lived for himself but for his people; they sinned against him and still he loved them. Mother said the time would come when they would stand before Him to answer for murdering our country. The Bolsheviks had every reason to remove Father and all male Romanovs, because by so doing they would eliminate all interference with their plans, and no emperor would ever be in power again.
Lenin had a personal hatred for the Imperial family. He waited for an opportunity to get his revenge. When Father was a young man, he and his parents were on their way to the Caucasus when the train in which they were riding was derailed and eighty people lost their lives and many more were injured. The roof of the Imperial car was on the verge of collapse when my Grandfather, Alexander III, held the roof on his shoulders, preventing further disaster. Six years afterwards he died as a result of the injuries he suffered on that day. The conspirators who caused this derailment were Lenin and his brother. Lenin’s brother was caught and was executed. Lenin himself escaped abroad. The Russian people did not know that Lenin was one of the Ulianov-Tsederbaum brothers. Later it was established that Lenin himself was the mastermind in causing this accident. Little did the people suspect that he was later also an agent of the German government. Trotsky’s brother was also a revolutionary; he was hanged in 1905. Lenin and Trotsky came to Russia shortly after Father’s abdication. Once my Granny told me if Grandfather had not held up the roof of the railway car they would all have been crushed. Aunt Olga suffered an injury to her back, and Granny to an arm. From the life-size painting which hung in Father’s billiard room, I judge my Grandfather to have been enormous, with broad shoulders and colorful, healthy cheeks, a handsome specimen. I would not be surprised if his voice was a deep baritone, like the voice of a lion roaring throughout the vast rooms of the Gatchina Palace. That kind of impression my giant Grandfather made on me.
Father was emphatic about two things: He would accept nothing from Germany and would not permit the family to become separated. After seeing what these people had done to Father, we sisters, though we longed for freedom and an opportunity to enjoy our life, young as we were, were ready to sacrifice everything and even die to save our country.
A new detachment of guards arrived from Moscow under the supervision of a man named Yakovlev. He had been in Tobolsk for several days and no one knew the reason for his being in town. Before the thirteenth day of each month approached we feared some kind of trouble, and the 13th of April was no exception. On this day Yakovlev put under arrest General Tatishchev, Prince Dolgorukov, Countess Hendrikova, Mlle. Schneider and Mr. Gibbs. They were ordered to move into our house.
After all the rooms had been searched, Yakovlev, wanting to be sure that Alexei was ill, brought in a doctor from the outside, who soon verified the boy’s illness.
I remember a conversation one evening with Count Tatishchev. Prior to the war he represented Father at the German Court and spoke German fluently. During the war he questioned German prisoners who told him that their officers were dissatisfied and that even Von Moltke, the German Commander in the field, was disgusted the way things were going by 1917, and was in favor of putting the Kaiser under arrest; that virtually the Kaiser was a prisoner at his own headquarters and no longer had the power to do anything about the situation. Besides, it was further said, Germany was at the point of collapse.
Ludendorff was then master of the Army and the Empire. It was the Russian revolution which was so skillfully promoted by the traitors who had settled for a while in Switzerland that saved Germany. Had it been delayed even by as short a period as three months, victory would have been ours.
Another evening the subject of discussion was the treaty which was about to be signed. As usual we were gathered in the big hall. With us were Prince Dolgorukov, General Tatishchev, M. Gilliard and Mr. Gibbs; also the two ladies in waiting, Mlle. Hendrikova and Mlle. Schneider, both of whom were later killed outside of Perm. Father turned to General Tatishchev and said: “General, do you remember the letter that Wilhelm wrote to me in which he said that he wanted to sign a separate treaty with Russia, after which the whole affair would be forgotten and the two countries would be friends again?” Across the face of that letter Father had written: “Our friendship is dead.” There was a second letter, this one to Count Benckendorff, in which the Kaiser asked the Count to speak to Father about a treaty with Germany.
We all knew about these letters as we were at General Headquarters at the time. Father showed these letters to Sir John Hanbury-Williams and the other members of the Foreign High Command. His own reaction (which may have been sent to Berlin by Count Benckendorff) to these letters was, “If the Kaiser wants peace, let him make his proposals to all my Allies; a separate treaty with Russia alone is out of the question. No treaty without indemnities to my country and my Allies.”
Prince Dolgorukov said to Olga, “Knowing how honest His Majesty is, he would and could not break the promise he made when he put his hand on the Bible, assumed the purple and was crowned, and received the Orb and the Sceptre. At the same time he kneeled in prayer to guide him in his service as Tsar and Judge of the Russian Empire and to keep his heart in the will of God asking for His guidance to help him in his task to rule wisely and be a true father to his people, in order that on the Day of Judgment he may answer without shame.” During the proclamation of war Father again swore with his hand on the Bible never to make a peace with the enemy as long as one enemy soldier was on his soil.
Father would never have betrayed his Allies. However, the Allies did not recognize his loyalty to them and his unwillingness to sign a separate treaty with the Central Powers. Because of his loyalty and their failure to recognize it, he underwent great spiritual suffering, particularly because he knew that it would mean the end of Russia at a time when he so needed the support of the Allies which they failed to give. Even the Bolshevik leaders feared that the stubborn Emperor might be a threat to them, and decided that the only thing left to do was to kill him. Father might still be alive today, if he had been willing to betray his Allies. It was known that Wilhelm had more confidence in Father for keeping his word in honorable dealings than in his other cousins.