Monday, August 3rd.—The Czar came up to Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s room this morning. He was a changed man. Yesterday’s ceremony resolved itself into an impressive manifestation. When he appeared on the balcony of the Winter Palace the enormous crowd which had collected on the square fell on their knees and sang the Russian National Anthem. The enthusiasm of his people has shown the Czar that this is unquestionably a national war.
I hear that at the Winter Palace yesterday the Czar took a solemn oath not to make peace while a single enemy soldier remains on Russian soil. In taking such an oath before the whole world Nicholas II. shows the true character of this war. It is a matter of life and death, a struggle for existence.
The Czarina had a long talk with me this afternoon. She was in a state of great indignation, as she had just heard that on orders from the Emperor William II. the Dowager-Empress of Russia had been prevented from continuing her journey to St. Petersburg and had had to go from Berlin to Copenhagen.
“Fancy a monarch arresting an Empress! How could he descend to that? He has absolutely changed since the militarist party, who hate Russia, have gained the upper hand with him. But I am sure he has been won over to the war against his will. He’s been dragged into it by the Crown Prince, who openly assumed the leadership of the pan-German militarists and seemed to disapprove of his father’s policy. He has forced his father’s hand.
“I have never liked the Emperor William, if only because he is not sincere. He is vain and has always played the comedian. He was always reproaching me with doing nothing for Germany, and has always done his best to separate Russia and France,[32] though I never believed it was for the good of Russia. He will never forgive me this war!
“You know that the Czar received a telegram from him the night before last. It arrived several hours after the declaration of war, and demanded ‘an immediate reply, which alone could avert the terrible disaster.’ He thus tried to deceive the Czar once more, unless the telegram was kept back at Berlin by those who were bent on war in any case.”
Tuesday, August 4th.—Germany has declared war on France and I hear that Switzerland also has mobilised. I have been to the Legation to get the orders for my ultimate departure.
Wednesday, August 5th.—I met the Czar in the park. He told me with immense pleasure that, as a result of the violation of the neutrality of Belgium, England has joined the great cause. The neutrality of Italy seems assured as well.
We have already won a great diplomatic victory. Military victory will follow, and, thanks to the help of England, it will come sooner than we think. The Germans have against them the whole of Europe, with the exception of Austria. Their insolence and despotism have at last been too much even for their allies. Look at the Italians!
This evening I had another long talk with the Czarina, who will not hear of my leaving for Switzerland.
“It’s ridiculous! You will never get there. All communications are interrupted.”
I told her that an arrangement had been made between the French Embassy and the Swiss Legation, and that we should all go home together via the Dardanelles.
“The trouble is that, if you have some chance—it’s a very small one—of getting home, you will have no chance of getting back here before the end of the war. As Switzerland will not fight, you will be at home doing nothing.”
At that moment Dr. Derevenko entered the room. In his hand he held an evening paper announcing the violation of Swiss neutrality by Germany.
“Again! They must be crazy, mad!” cried the Czarina. “They have absolutely lost their heads!”
Realising she could not keep me now, she abandoned her resistance and began to speak kindly of my relations, who will be without news of me for some considerable time.
“I myself have no news of my brother,” she added. “Where is he? In Belgium or on the French front? I shiver to think that the Emperor William may avenge himself against me by sending him to the Russian front. He is quite capable of such monstrous behaviour! What a horrible war this is! What evil and suffering it means!... What will become of Germany? What humiliation, what a downfall is in store for her? And all for the sins of the Hohenzollerns—their idiotic pride and insatiable ambition. Whatever has happened to the Germany of my childhood? I have such happy and poetic memories of my early years in Darmstadt and the good friends I had there. But on my later visits Germany seemed to me a changed country—a country I did not know and had never known.... I had no community of thought or feeling with anyone except the old friends of days gone by. Prussia has meant Germany’s ruin. The German people have been deceived. Feelings of hatred and revenge which are quite foreign to their nature have been instilled into them. It will be a terrible, monstrous struggle, and humanity is about to pass through ghastly sufferings....”
Thursday, August 6th.—I went into the town this morning. The violation of the neutrality of Switzerland is not confirmed and seems most improbable. It is impossible to travel via the Dardanelles. Our departure is thus postponed, and we cannot say when it will take place. This uncertainty makes me anxious.
Sunday, August 9th.—The Czar has had another long talk with me to-day. As before, he expressed himself with a confidence and frankness which can only be explained by the exceptional circumstances through which we are passing. Neither he nor the Czarina ever used to discuss political or personal questions with me. But the amazing events of the last few days, and the fact that I have been so intimately associated with their troubles and anxieties, have drawn me closer to them, and for the time being the conventional barriers of etiquette and Court usage have fallen.
The Czar first spoke to me about the solemn session of the Duma on the previous day. He told me how
THE CZAR AND THE CZAREVITCH EXAMINING THE FIRST MACHINE-GUN CAPTURED FROM THE GERMANS. PETERHOF, AUGUST, 1914.
tremendously pleased he had been with its resolute and dignified attitude and its fervent patriotism.
“The Duma was in every way worthy of the occasion. It expressed the real will of the nation, for the whole of Russia smarts under the insults heaped upon it by Germany. I have the greatest confidence in the future now.... Speaking personally, I have done everything in my power to avert this war, and I am ready to make any concessions consistent with our dignity and national honour. You cannot imagine how glad I am that all the uncertainty is over, for I have never been through so terrible a time as the days preceding the outbreak of war. I am sure that there will now be a national uprising in Russia like that of the great war of 1812.”
Wednesday, August 12th.—It is Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s birthday. He is ten to-day.
Friday, August 14th.—The Grand-Duke Nicholas Nicolaïevitch,[33] Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Armies, has left for the front. Before leaving Peterhof he came to Alexandria to give the Czar the first trophy of the war, a machine-gun captured from the Germans in one of the skirmishes which have marked the commencement of operations on the East Prussian frontier.
Saturday, August 15th.—I was told last night that my return to Switzerland has been officially excused. I am told this is the result of the action M. Sazonoff has taken at Berne at Her Majesty’s suggestion. In any case, it is more and more doubtful whether the Swiss will be able to get away.
The Imperial family is to go on the 17th to Moscow where the Czar will observe the traditional custom and ask the blessing of God on himself and his people in the tragic hours through which the country is passing.
Monday, August 17th.—The arrival of Their Majesties at Moscow has been one of the most impressive and moving sights I have ever seen in my life.
After the customary reception at the station we went in a long file of carriages towards the Kremlin. An enormous crowd had collected in the squares and in the streets, climbed on the roofs of the shops, into the branches of trees. They swarmed in the shop windows and filled the balconies and windows of the houses. While all the bells of the churches were ringing as if they would never stop, from those thousands of throats poured that wonderful Russian National Anthem, so overwhelming with its religious grandeur and pent emotion, in which the faith of a whole race is embodied:
On the steps of the churches, through the great doorways of which one could see the light of the candles burning before the reliquaries, the priests in vestments, and holding their great crucifixes in both hands, blessed the Czar as he passed. The hymn stopped, and then began again, rising like a prayer with a mighty and majestic rhythm:
The procession arrived at the Iberian Gate.[34] The Czar got out of his carriage and, in accordance with custom, entered the chapel to kiss the miraculous image of the Virgin of Iberia. He came out, walked a little way, and then stopped, high above the immense multitude. His face was grave and composed. He stood motionless to hear the voice of his people. He seemed to be in silent communion with them. Once again he could hear the great heart of Russia beating....
He then turned again towards the chapel, crossed himself, put on his cap, and slowly walked to his carriage, which disappeared under the old gate and went towards the Kremlin.
Alexis Nicolaïevitch is complaining a good deal of his leg again to-night. Will he be able to walk to-morrow or will he have to be carried when Their Majesties go to the Cathedral? The Czar and Czarina are in despair. The boy was not able to be present at the ceremony in the Winter Palace. It is always the same when he is supposed to appear in public. You can be practically certain that some complication will prevent it. Fate seems to pursue him.
Tuesday, August 18th.—When Alexis Nicolaïevitch found he could not walk this morning he was in a terrible state. Their Majesties have decided that he shall be present at the ceremony all the same. He will be carried by one of the Czar’s cossacks. But it is a dreadful disappointment to the parents, who do not wish the idea to gain ground among the people that the Heir to the Throne is an invalid.
At eleven o’clock, when the Czar appeared at the top of the Red Staircase, the huge crowd in the square gave him a magnificent reception. He came down slowly, with the Czarina on his arm, and at the head of a long procession slowly crossed the bridge connecting the palace with the Cathedral of the Assumption and entered the church amid a frantic outburst of cheering from the crowd. The Metropolitan Bishops of Kiev, St. Petersburg, and Moscow and the high dignitaries of the Orthodox clergy were present. When Mass was over, the members of the Imperial family in turn approached the holy relics and kissed them. Then they knelt at the tombs of the patriarchs. Afterwards they went to the Monastery of Miracles to pray at the tomb of St. Alexis.
Long after Their Majesties had returned to the palace the crowd continued to collect in the square in the hope of seeing them again. Even when we came out several hours later there were still hundreds of peasants outside the palace.
Thursday, August 20th.—Popular enthusiasm is waxing from day to day. It seems as if the people of Moscow are so proud of having their Czar with them, and so anxious to keep him as long as possible, that they mean to hold him here by manifest proofs of their affection. The manifestations are increasingly spontaneous, enthusiastic, and expressive.
Alexis and I drive out in a car every morning. As a rule we go to the Monks’ Hill, from which there is a magnificent view of the valley of the Moskova and the city of the Czars. It was from this spot that Napoleon gazed on Moscow before entering it on September 14th, 1812. It is certainly a marvellous view. In the foreground, at the foot of the hill, is the Monastery of Novo-Dievitchy, with its fortified enceinte and sixteen castellated towers. A little further back is the Holy City, with its four hundred and fifty churches, its palaces and parks, its monasteries with their crenellated walls, its gilded cupolas and innumerable domes of brilliant colours and strange shapes.
As we were coming back from our usual drive this morning, so dense was the crowd that the chauffeur was obliged to stop in one of the rather narrow streets in the Yakimanskaïa quarter. The crowd consisted of humble folk and peasants from the district who had come into the city to shop or in the hope of seeing the Czar. All at once there was a loud shout: “The Heir!... The Heir!...” The crowd surged towards us, surrounded us, and came up so close that our way was blocked, and we, so to speak, found ourselves prisoners of these moujiks, workmen and shopkeepers who struggled and fought, shouted, gesticulated, and behaved like lunatics in order to get a better view of the Czarevitch. By degrees some of the women and children grew bolder, mounted the steps of the car, thrust their arms over the doors, and when they succeeded in touching the boy they yelled out triumphantly: “I’ve touched him!... I’ve touched the Heir!...”
Alexis Nicolaïevitch, frightened at these exuberant demonstrations, was sitting far back in the car. He was very pale, startled by this sudden popular manifestation, which was taking extravagant forms which were quite novel to him. He recovered himself, however, when he saw the kindly smiles of the crowd, but he remained embarrassed at the attention bestowed upon him, not knowing what to say or do.
Personally, I was speculating, not without considerable anxiety, how all this would end, for I knew that no police regulations are issued for the Czarevitch’s drives as neither the time nor the route can be fixed beforehand. I began to fear that we might meet with some accident in the middle of this unruly crowd swarming round us.
To my relief two huge gorodovy (policemen) came up, puffing and blowing, shouting and storming. The crowd displayed the unquestioning and resigned obedience of the moujik. It began to waver, then slowly drifted away. I then told Derevenko, who was following in another car, to go ahead, and by degrees we succeeded in getting clear.
Friday, August 21st.—Their Majesties, before returning to Tsarskoïe-Selo, decided to visit the Troïtsa Monastery, the most celebrated sanctuary in Russia after the world-famed Laure of Kiev. The train took us as far as the little station of Serghievo, from which we reached the monastery by car. Perched on a hill, it would be taken for a fortified city from a distance if the bright-coloured towers and gilded domes of its thirteen churches did not betray its true purpose. In the course of its history this rampart of Orthodoxy has had to resist some formidable assaults, the most famous being the sixteen months’ siege by an army of thirty thousand Poles at the beginning of the seventeenth century.
This monastery, like Moscow and the towns of the Upper Volga, is a spot where the past seems ever present. It calls up visions of the Russia of the boyarin, the Grand-Dukes of Moscow, and the first Czars, and vividly explains the historical evolution of the Russian people.
The Imperial family were present at a Te Deum and knelt before the relics of St. Sergius, the founder of the monastery. The Archimandrite then handed the Czar an icon painted in a fragment of the coffin of the saint, one of the most revered in Russia. In olden times this image always accompanied the Czars on their campaigns. On the Czar’s orders it is being sent to General Headquarters and placed in the “field chapel” of the Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Armies.
The Czar, Czarina, and their children visited the little church of Saint Nicon and then stayed a few minutes in the ancient residence of the patriarchs. As time was pressing, we had to abandon the idea of visiting the hermitage of Gethsemane, which is a little distance from the monastery. In accordance with a practice still frequently observed in Russia, certain hermits still have themselves shut up here in subterranean walled cells. They live in prayer and fasting to the end of their days, completely isolated from the world, and the slit through which their food is passed is their sole means of communication with their fellow-men.
The Imperial family bade the Archimandrite farewell and left the monastery, accompanied by a crowd of monks who swarmed round the cars.
ON August 22nd we returned to Tsarskoïe-Selo, where the Czar was to be obliged to spend some time before he could get away to General Headquarters. Decisions of the utmost importance required his presence near the capital.
Notwithstanding the terrible weight of responsibility on his shoulders, the Czar never showed such firmness, resolution, and conscious energy as during this period at the beginning of the war. His personal influence had never been exerted with more authority. It seemed as if he had devoted himself body and soul to the formidable task of leading Russia to victory. We felt he was inspired by some inward force and a dour determination to conquer which communicated itself to everyone with whom he came in contact.
The Czar was shy and retiring by nature. He belonged to the category of human beings who are always hesitating because they are too diffident and are ever slow to impose their will on others because they are too gentle and sensitive. He had little faith in himself and imagined that he was one of the unlucky ones. Unfortunately his life seemed to show that he was not entirely wrong. Hence his doubts and hesitations. But this time it seemed as if he had changed. What was it gave him his confidence?
In the first place the Czar believed that his cause was a holy cause. The events of the end of July had enabled him to see through the duplicity of Germany to which he had nearly fallen a victim. He also felt that he had never been so near to his people. He seemed to be borne along by them. His journey to Moscow had shown him how popular the war was and how much the nation appreciated the fact that his firm and dignified attitude had enhanced its prestige in the eyes of the outside world. The enthusiasm of the masses had never before been demonstrated with the same spontaneous fervour. He felt that he had the whole country behind him, and he hoped that political passion, which had vanished in the presence of the common peril, would not revive so long as the war was in progress.
The disaster of Soldau, in East Prussia, occurred a few days after his arrival in Moscow, but it had not shaken his confidence. He knew the cause of that terrible defeat had been that the concentration of the troops had not been complete, and that General Samsonoff’s army had had to advance into German territory too fast in order to attract some of the enemy forces to itself and thus relieve the Western Front. That defeat had had its compensation a week later in the victory of the Marne. It was not right to bewail a sacrifice which had saved France and therefore ultimately Russia herself. It is true that the same result could have been obtained with less loss and that the Russian High Command was not free from blame, but this was one of the misfortunes which are always possible in the early days of a campaign.
The Czar thus preserved all his confidence and energy. At the very beginning of the war, and notwithstanding the opposition of many influential people, he had prohibited the production and sale of spirits. The step meant a serious loss to the Treasury, and that at a time when money was wanted more than ever. But his faith had been stronger than all the objections which had been urged. He had also acted personally in endeavouring to replace all unpopular Ministers by men who seemed to have the confidence of the Duma. In that way he desired to emphasise his wish for closer collaboration with the representatives of the people.
On October 3rd the Czar had gone to G.H.Q., where he spent three days. Then after a short visit to the troops in the region of Brest and Kovno, he had returned to Tsarskoïe-Selo.
Henceforth he made periodic visits to the front and the interior of the country, seeing the different sectors of the immense front, the clearing stations and military hospitals, the factories and, in fact, everything which played any part in the conduct of the terrible war.
The Czarina had devoted herself to the cause of the wounded from the start, and she had decided that the Grand-Duchesses Olga Nicolaïevna and Tatiana Nicolaïevna should assist her in her task. All three of them took a course in nursing, and passed several hours of every day caring for the wounded who were sent to Tsarskoïe-Selo. Her Majesty, sometimes with the Czar and sometimes alone with her two daughters, paid several visits to the Red Cross establishments in the towns of Western and Central Russia. At her suggestion, many military hospitals had been organised, as well as ambulance trains specially fitted up for the evacuation of the wounded to the rear, a process which was often very slow owing to the immense distances. Her example had been followed, and private initiative had never been displayed with the same enthusiasm and generosity.
Lastly a congress of all the zemstvos[35] and the municipalities of Russia had assembled in Moscow to organise the resources of the country. Under the influence of energetic and disinterested individuals the congress had rapidly been converted into a potent piece of machinery, with immense resources at its command and in a position to give the Government the most valuable help.
In its scope and the patriotic fervour behind it this movement had been unprecedented in Russian history. The war had become a truly national war.
The month of September had been marked for Russia by alternating victories and reverses. In East Prussia the defeat of Tannenberg had been followed by that of the Masurian Lakes, where the superiority of the Germans had been demonstrated once again. In Galicia, on the other hand, the Russians had captured Lemberg, and continued their irresistible advance, inflicting serious losses on the Austrian army, which had fallen back into the Carpathians. In the following month the Germans tried to secure Warsaw, but their furious onslaught had been broken against the splendid resistance of the Russians. The losses on both sides had been heavy.
In December the Czar paid a visit to the Caucasus, where the Southern Army was operating. He was anxious to spend a little time with the troops who were fighting under the most trying conditions against the Turkish divisions massed on the Armenian frontier. On his return he joined the Czarina at Moscow, and the children also were brought there to meet him. The Czar visited the military schools and with Her Majesty, his son and daughters, several times made the rounds of the hospitals and nursing establishments in that city.
During the five days we spent at Moscow the enthusiasm of the people had been every bit as great as in August, and it was with real regret that Their Majesties left the ancient capital of Muscovy, the Czar leaving for G.H.Q. and the other members of the family returning to Tsarskoïe-Selo.
After the New Year’s Day celebrations the Czar resumed his periodical visits to the front. The army was then preparing for the great offensive which was to take place in March.
Throughout this winter the health of the Czarevitch had been very satisfactory, and his lessons could proceed along regular lines. In the early spring Her Majesty informed me that the Czar and she had decided, in view of the circumstances, to dispense with the appointment of a vospitatiet for Alexis Nicolaïevitch for the moment. Contrary to my expectations, I thus found myself compelled to shoulder the immense burden of responsibility alone for some time longer, and to find some means of filling up the gaps in the Heir’s education. I had a strong feeling that it was essential that he should get away from his ordinary environment, even if it were only for a few hours a day, and try to establish contact with real life. I applied for and obtained a General Staff map of the country, and I planned a series of motor drives which enabled us gradually to cover all the district around within a radius of twenty miles. We used to start out immediately after lunch, and often stopped at villages to watch the peasants at work. Alexis Nicolaïevitch liked questioning them, and they always answered him with the frank, kindly simplicity of the Russian moujik, not having the slightest idea whom they were speaking to. The railway lines of the suburbs of St. Petersburg had a great attraction for the boy. He took the liveliest interest in the activities of the little stations we passed and the work of repair on the track, bridges, etc.
The palace police grew alarmed at these excursions, which took us beyond the guarded zone, especially as our route was not known beforehand. I was asked to observe the rules in force, but I disregarded them, and our drives continued as before. The police then changed their procedure, and whenever we left the park we were certain to see a car appear and follow in our tracks. It was one of Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s greatest delights to try and throw it off the scent, and now and then we were successful.
My particular anxiety, however, was to find companions for the Imperial Heir. This was a problem most difficult to solve. Fortunately circumstances themselves conspired to make good this deficiency to a certain extent. Dr. Derevenko had a son who was almost the same age as Alexis Nicolaïevitch. The two boys got to know each other, and were soon good friends. No Sunday, fête day or holiday passed without them meeting. They were together every day ultimately, and the Czarevitch even obtained permission to visit the house of Dr. Derevenko, who lived in a little villa not far from the palace. He often spent whole afternoons there with his friend and playmate in the modest home of a bourgeois family. There was a good deal of criticism of this innovation, but Their Majesties would not interfere. They were so unaffected in their own private life that they could not but encourage the same tastes in their children.
Yet the war had already brought some very remarkable change in our life at the palace. It had always been austere, and now became even more so. The Czar was away a good deal. The Czarina and her two elder daughters almost always wore the costume of a nurse, and divided their time between visits to the hospitals and the innumerable duties arising out of their work for the relief of the wounded. The Czarina was very tired even when the war began. She had spent herself without counting the consequences, devoting herself with the enthusiasm and ardour she brought to everything to which she set her hand. Although her health was severely shaken, she displayed remarkable physical elasticity. She seemed to derive comfort and strength from the accomplishment of the splendid task which she had undertaken. It was as if she found that it satisfied her craving for self-devotion and enabled her to forget the poignant anxiety and apprehension that the Czarevitch’s illness caused, even in its inactive periods.
Another result of the war, as agreeable as unexpected, was that Rasputin had retired into the background. At the end of September he had returned from Siberia completely recovered from the terrible wound which had all but ended his days. But everything pointed to the fact that since his return he was being more or less neglected. In any case, his visits were more and more infrequent. It was true that as Alexis Nicolaïevitch had been so much better during the winter there had been no need to resort to his intervention, so that he had found himself deprived of what had been his great stand-by.
But when all is said, his power remained quite formidable. I had proof of the fact a short time after, when Madame Wyroubova was all but killed in a terrible railway accident. She was nearly dead when she was dragged from under the fragments of a shattered carriage, and had been brought to Tsarskoïe-Selo in a condition which seemed desperate. In her terror the Czarina had rushed to the bedside of the woman who was almost her only friend. Rasputin, who had been hastily sent for, was there also. In this accident the Czarina saw a new proof of the evil fate which seemed to pursue so relentlessly all those whom she loved. As she asked Rasputin in a tone of anguish whether Madame Wyroubova would live, he replied:
“God will give her back to you if she is needed by you and the country. If her influence is harmful, on the other hand, He will take her away. I cannot claim to know His impenetrable designs.”
It must be admitted that this was a very clever way of evading an awkward question. If Madame Wyroubova recovered he would have earned her eternal gratitude, as, thanks to him, her recovery would seem to consecrate, as it were, her mission with the Czarina. If she died, on the other hand, Her Majesty would see in her death a manifestation of the inscrutable ways of Providence, and thus be the more easily consoled in her loss.[36]
Rasputin’s intervention had helped him to recover his influence, but his triumph was short-lived. In spite of everything, we felt that something had changed, and that he was not so important as he had been. I was delighted to note the fact, particularly as shortly before I had had a long talk on the subject of the staretz with the Swiss Minister in Petrograd.[37] The information he gave me in the course of our conversation left me in no doubt as to the real character of Rasputin. As I had always suspected, he was a misguided mystic who possessed a kind of psychic power, an unbalanced creature who worked alternately through his carnal desires and his mystic visions, a being quite capable of having weeks of religious ecstasy after nights of infamy. But before this interview I had never realised the importance that was attached to Rasputin’s influence on politics, not merely in Russian circles, but even in the embassies and legations of Petrograd. That influence was greatly exaggerated, but the mere fact that it could exist was a kind of challenge to public opinion. The presence of this man at Court was also a subject of mystery and abhorrence to all who knew the debauchery of his private life. I fully realised that all this involved the greatest danger to the prestige of Their Majesties and furnished a weapon which their enemies would sooner or later try to use against them.
The mischief could only have been remedied by sending Rasputin away; but where was the power strong enough to bring about his disgrace? I knew the deep, underlying causes of his hold over the Czarina too well not to fear the restoration of his influence if circumstances took a turn favourable to him.
The first six months of the war had not brought the results hoped for, and everything pointed to a long and bitter struggle. Unexpected complications might arise, for the prolongation of the war might well bring very serious economic difficulties which could foster general discontent and provoke actual disorder. The Czar and Czarina were much concerned at this aspect of the matter. It made them very anxious.
As ever in moments of trouble and uncertainty, it was from religion and the affection of their children that they drew the comfort they needed. With their usual natural simplicity and good humour the Grand-Duchesses had accepted the increasing austerity of life at Court. It is true that their own lives, so utterly destitute of the elements which young girls find most agreeable, had prepared them for the change. When war broke out in 1914, Olga Nicolaïevna was nineteen and Tatiana Nicolaïevna had just had her seventeenth birthday. They had never been to a ball. The only parties at which they had appeared were one or two given by their aunt, the Grand-Duchess Olga Alexandrovna. After hostilities one thought, and one thought alone, inspired them—to relieve the cares and anxieties of their parents by surrounding them with a love which revealed itself in the most touching and delicate attentions.
If only the world had known what an example the Imperial family were setting with their tender and intimate association! But how few ever suspected it! For it was too indifferent to public opinion and avoided the public gaze.
IN spite of the successes gained by the Russians in Galicia in the autumn, the situation was very uncertain in the spring of 1915. On both sides preparations were being made for a fierce renewal of the struggle to which the fighting of January and February was only the prelude. On the Russian side it looked as if everything possible had been done to strengthen the army’s fighting power and assure the normal flow of supplies. The Czar, at any rate, believed that it was so, on the faith of the reports he had received. He had placed all his hopes on the success of this spring campaign.
The Austrians were the first to take the offensive, but the Russians counter-attacked vigorously, and their superiority was soon made manifest all along the front. In the first fortnight of March their successes were continued. On the 19th they captured the fortress of Przemysl. The whole garrison and considerable booty in war material fell into their hands. There was tremendous excitement in the country. The Czar returned from G.H.Q. on March 24th. He was in high spirits. Were the fortunes of war at length going to turn in favour of Russia?
In the middle of April Russian divisions stood on the crest of the Carpathians and menaced the rich plains of Hungary. The Austrian army was at the end of its tether. But these successes had been bought at the price of enormous losses, and the mountain fighting continued under conditions which were extremely trying even for the victor. The prolongation of the war was also beginning to show effects on the population at home. It had begun to feel the high cost of food and the poverty of communications was paralysing all economic life. There must be no delay in finding a solution.
But Germany could not remain indifferent to the dissolution of the Austrian army, and as soon as she clearly appreciated the danger she made up her mind to avert it by taking every step in her power. Several German army corps had been massed east of Cracow and placed under the command of General Mackensen, who was to take the offensive against the flank of the Russian army and try to cut the communications of the troops operating in the Carpathians. The onslaught began in the first days of May, and under the pressure of the Germans the Russian army of Western Galicia was obliged to retreat rapidly to the east. It had to accept the loss of the Carpathians, the capture of which had cost so much blood and effort, and descend into the plains. The troops fought with remarkable courage and endurance, but they were cruelly short of arms and ammunition.
The retreat continued. On June 5th Przemysl was lost, and on June 22nd Lemberg. By the end of the month all Galicia—that Slav land the conquest of which had filled all Russian hearts with joy—had been evacuated.
Meanwhile the Germans had begun a vigorous offensive in Poland and made rapid progress in spite of the fierce resistance of the Russians. It was a grave moment. The whole Russian front had been shaken and given way under the pressure of the Austro-German armies. Men wished to know who was responsible for these disasters. They called for the guilty and demanded their punishment.
The development of events had been a terrible blow to the Czar. It had been a shock, especially as he had certainly not expected anything of the kind. But he set his teeth against adversity. On June 25th he dismissed the Minister of War, General Sukhomlinoff, whose criminal negligence seemed to have been responsible for the fact that it was impossible to secure the army’s supplies. He replaced him by General Polivanoff. On the 27th he summoned a conference at G.H.Q., at which all the Ministers were present. It was a question of rousing all the energies of the country, of mobilising all its forces and resources for the life-and-death struggle with the hated foe.
It was decided to summon the Duma. The first sitting took place on August 1st, the anniversary of the declaration of war by Germany on Russia. The firm and courageous attitude of the Assembly did a good deal to calm the public agitation. But while calling on the whole nation to co-operate in the defence of the Fatherland, the Duma demanded that the guilty should be discovered and punished. A few days later the Czar appointed a “Commission of Enquiry” with a view to fixing responsibility for the nation’s misfortunes.
Meanwhile the German offensive in Poland had made further progress. On August 5th Warsaw was abandoned by the Russians, who withdrew to the right bank of the Vistula. On the 17th Kovno was lost. One after the other all the Russian fortresses fell before the onslaught of the enemy, whose advance no obstacle seemed capable of staying. By the end of August the whole of the Government of Poland was in the hands of the Germans.
The reverses assumed the proportions of a catastrophe which endangered the very existence of the country. Should we be able to stop the invading hordes or should we have to follow the precedent of 1812 and withdraw into the interior, thus abandoning Russian soil to the enemy? Had all our willing sacrifices brought us nothing?
The country was suffering from the incessant withdrawals of men and from requisitions. Agriculture was short of labour and horses. In the towns the cost of living was rising with the disorganisation of the railways and the influx of refugees. The most pessimistic news passed from mouth to mouth. There was talk of sabotage, treason, etc. Russian public opinion, so changeable and prone to exaggeration whether in joy or sorrow, indulged in the most gloomy forebodings.
It was just when Russia was passing through this acute crisis that Nicholas II. decided to take the command of his armies in person.
For several months the Czarina had been urging the Czar to take this step, but he had stood out against her suggestion as he did not like the idea of relieving the Grand-Duke Nicholas of the post he had given him. When the war broke out his first impulse had been to put himself at the head of his army, but, yielding to the representations of his Ministers, he had abandoned an idea which was very close to his heart. He had always regretted it, and now that the Germans had conquered all Poland and were advancing on Russian soil, he considered it nothing less than criminal to remain away from the front and not take a more active part in the defence of his country.
The Czar had returned from G.H.Q. on July 11th, and spent two months at Tsarskoïe-Selo before making up his mind to this new step. I will relate a conversation I had with him on July 16th, as it shows quite clearly what were the ideas that inspired him at that time. On that day he had joined Alexis Nicolaïevitch and myself in the park, and had just been telling his son something about his recent visit to the army. Turning to me, he added:
“You have no idea how depressing it is to be away from the front. It seems as if everything here saps energy and enfeebles resolution. The most pessimistic rumours and the most ridiculous stories are accepted and get about everywhere. Folk here care nothing except for intrigues and cabals, and regard low personal interests only. Out at the front men fight and die for their country. At the front there is only one thought—the determination to conquer. All else is forgotten, and, in spite of our losses and our reverses, everyone remains confident. Any man fit to bear arms should be in the army. Speaking for myself, I can never be in too much of a hurry to be with my troops.”[38]
The Czarina was able to take advantage of this great ambition. She set herself to overcome the scruples which considerations of another character inspired. She desired the removal of the Grand-Duke Nicholas, whom she accused of secretly working for the ruin of the Czar’s reputation and prestige and for a palace revolution which would further his own ends. On the strength of certain information she had received from Madame Wyroubova, she was also persuaded that G.H.Q. was the centre of a plot, the object of which was to seize her daring the absence of her husband and confine her in a convent.
The Czar, on the other hand, had full confidence in the loyalty of the Grand-Duke Nicholas. He considered him incapable of any criminal action, but he was compelled to admit his complicity in the intrigue against the Czarina. Yet he did not give way until the imperious instinct urging him to put himself at the head of his army had become an obligation of conscience. By intervening personally in the struggle he hoped to show the world that the war would be fought out to the bitter end and prove his own unshakable faith in ultimate victory. In this tragic hour he thought it was his duty to stake his own person, and as head of the state to assume the full burden of responsibility. By his presence among the troops he wished to restore their confidence, for their morale had been shaken by the long series of reverses, and they were tired of fighting against an enemy whose strength consisted principally in the superiority of his armament.
In spite of the recent retreats, the prestige of the Grand-Duke Nicholas was still considerable in Russia. During this first twelve months of the war he had given proof of resolution and an iron will. The fact that he was deprived of his command in times of defeat indicated that he was held responsible, and was bound to be interpreted as a punishment, as unjust on the merits as insulting to his honour. The Czar fully realised all this, and only decided as he did much against his will. His first idea had been to keep the Grand-Duke with him at G.H.Q., but that would have made the position of the ex-Generalissimo somewhat delicate. The Czar decided to appoint him Lieutenant-General of the Caucasus and Commander-in-Chief of the army operating against the Turks.
The Czar communicated his decision to take over the Supreme Command to his Ministers at a council which took place at Tsarskoïe-Selo a few days before his departure for G.H.Q. The news threw most of those present into utter consternation, and they did their best to dissuade him from his project. They pointed to the grave difficulties in the way of public business if the head of the state was to spend practically all his time at G.H.Q., more than five hundred miles from the seat of government. They referred to his innumerable duties and asked him not to take new and crushing responsibilities upon himself. In the last resort they begged him not to place himself at the head of his troops at a moment so critical. In case of failure he was running a risk of exposing himself to attacks which would undermine his prestige and authority.
Yet the Czar was not to be moved. Several members of his immediate entourage made several further attempts to convince him, but these failed also, and on the evening of September 4th he left for Mohileff, where G.H.Q. was established at that time. The next day he signed the Prikase, in which he announced to the troops that he was taking command in person, and at the foot he added in his own hand:
“With unshakable faith in the goodness of God and firm confidence in final victory we shall accomplish our sacred duty in defending our Fatherland to the end, and we shall never let the soil of Russia be outraged.”
He was repeating the oath he had taken at the outset of the war and casting his crown into the arena.
In France and England this announcement came as a surprise which was not without a certain element of apprehension, but this action was regarded as a pledge which irrevocably associated the Russian Empire, in the person of its Czar, with the fortunes of the Entente, and this at a moment when a series of defeats would have been grounds for fearing separatist tendencies. All the great newspapers of the Allied countries emphasised the importance of this decision. It was hoped that it would have a considerable effect on the morale of the Russian army and contribute to further the cause of final victory. In Russia the whole Press raised a shout of triumph, but in sober reality opinion about the wisdom of changing the command was sharply divided at first. In the army itself we shall see that the presence of the Czar helped to raise the spirits and courage of the men and gave the campaign a new impetus.
History will some day reveal the political and military consequences of this step, which was certainly an act of courage and faith on the part of the Czar himself.
As I had feared, the apparent indifference with which Rasputin had been treated during the winter had only been temporary, and at the time of the disasters in May there was a revival of his influence, which grew steadily stronger. The change is easily explained. At the beginning of the war the Czar and Czarina were utterly obsessed by the greatness of their task, and had passed through hours of exaltation in the knowledge of the love they bore their people, a love they felt was reciprocated. That fervent communion had filled them with hope. They believed that they were really the centre of that great national movement which swept over the whole of Russia. The military events of the following months had not shaken their courage. They had maintained their ardent faith