The year 1916, the date May 6th. It was Father’s forty-eighth birthday. The day before, we went to G.H.Q. at Mogilev to be with him. As usual we stayed on our train. On this occasion the Russian and all the Allied High Command, as well as some of our relatives, came to extend to Father their congratulations.
Mother, shy and reserved by nature, came with us even though she dreaded meeting the members of the Allied Military Missions, some of whom she had not yet met. We knew many of the officers quite well. I particularly remember our friend General Keller, Generals Ivanov, Lechitsky, Dieterichs, Yanin, Resin, Kornilov, Brussilov, Father’s Chief of Staff, General Alexeiev, General Dubensky, the military historian attached to G.H.Q., and Captain Nilov. I recall, too, the traitor, General Ruzsky, who left such a bad impression in the Baltic.
In the morning we went to the garrison church services nearby, under the thick pine trees. There were many high ranking men and titled guests in attendance.
Mother had ordered flowers from the Crimea to be used as decorations for the occasion. We sisters made two flower arrangements for Father’s study and his bedroom. One of these was placed on the table in his bedroom in front of an icon of Saint Nicholas. On the piano in the big hall were large branches of white orchids artistically arranged.
Dinner was served to about fifty guests. All the members of foreign missions and the Russian generals and their wives who happened to be there attended, as well as a number of the Grand Dukes who came to Mogilev especially for this occasion.
We assembled in the large hall and stood in line with Father to receive the congratulations of the guests. We girls wore white dresses and white hats trimmed with ostrich feathers. Uncle Serge Mikhailovich, who was in command of the Russian artillery, was present. Others were the Grand Duke Cyril and his brother the Grand Duke Boris Vladimirovich; they could not disguise their bitter hatred for the family, especially for Mother, when their turn came to take our hands.
At the dinner Mother sat next to Father and at her side was our handsome, lively brother Alexei. Opposite them was Olga, Hanbury-Williams and the others. In the evening we took in a movie. Prince Igor Constantinovich was there and accompanied us next morning on a walk in the forest, where spring flowers were abundant.
From Mogilev we went to Sevastopol, Crimea, making several stops on the way to inspect military hospitals. At the Tsarskaya Pristan (dock) in Sevastopol we were greeted with cheers by sailors from Navy vessels. Everywhere we went, we were met with a great deal of friendliness by the people who came forth with flowers, fruits, and gifts of money for the hospitals. We also made a surprise visit to the Romanov Institute of Physical Therapy. In Evpatoria we met Admiral Kolchak, who later played an important role in fighting the Communists in 1918 in order to capture Ekaterinburg and rescue us. Unfortunately he was betrayed by the Czech troops. We had tea with Anna, who had been sent there by Mother on a special mission some weeks earlier. Father and Alexei went back to Mogilev and we left for Tsarskoe Selo. Anna accompanied us for several stations, and then returned to the Crimea.
About this time the people began to show unrest as a result of a rumor, which an investigation showed had been spread by German agents, to the effect that Mother and Aunt Ella were hiding Uncle Ernest. It upset my Mother so much that she had a heart attack.
When demonstrations began to take place in Moscow, because of this false propaganda, Mother was told that Kerensky, who up to now was biding his time, urged Guchkov to start a revolution, while the situation was still hot. Mother said he should be hanged for it. While Kerensky was plotting against my family, Father was at the front making every effort to bring Kaiser Wilhelm to his knees, despite the offers for the separate treaty which were made by the Kaiser who stressed that an alliance with Germany would be more beneficial to Russia than one with England. But all the proposals were ignored. Father knew the German position in the war was the lack of physical strength, particularly after Father’s Chamberlain, General Tatishchev had interviewed German officer prisoners and was told by them that the Kaiser had lost all his power which now rested in the hands of the High Command.
Mother went to Mogilev again and this time she took Anna with her. It caused a great deal of trouble and more hatred sprang from it. Even our own cousin, the Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich, spread the most unjust lies: that some drink was given to Father by Anna and that he was under hypnosis. How shameful that this young man in return for love gave disloyalty to the man who had given him kindness and affection as if he were his own father. Another ridiculous rumor was that gold had been shipped over the border to Germany in the coffins in which supposedly were bodies of German soldiers killed in the war.
Mother became resentful toward these rumors and stubborn in her reaction to them. Now she and Father would defend any innocent friend who was brought under false suspicion or accusation. How could anyone believe such falsehoods, especially against my Father, which were found in the end not to be true. Madame Narishkina once said to us that Mother’s friends brought her nothing but misfortune. It is true, but for this misfortune many others also were responsible. Anybody could have believed anything under the prevailing chaotic conditions of rumor and deceit For example, some years before the war, while the family was in the Crimea, every day a bouquet of fresh flowers was sent to Father for his desk in his study, and the card in them bore the signature “Ania.” This naturally aroused great consternation. Upon investigation, it was found that Ania Vyrubova at that very time had been with her family in the small village of Terijoki on the Gulf of Finland and so could not possibly have sent the flowers. Later Princess Sonia Orbeliani, once Mother’s lady in waiting, a bitter enemy of Anna’s, in a fit of anger revenged herself on Anna by saying that Anna had hired a gardener to send the flowers.
Another rumor related that Rasputin came to the palace by way of the back porch and visited the children’s quarters. In the first place, there was no back porch. On one occasion, he did come upstairs to see Alexei in his sickbed, using the private spiral stairway from Mother’s apartments, but subsequently, whenever Rasputin came, Alexei was carried downstairs. Moreover, Rasputin was accompanied by Father Vassiliev and almost always the Emperor was present. Father had traced this rumor to its source, and everyone connected with the story admitted that they had not seen Rasputin enter the palace, but that they were told to say so by a certain person. In fact, I never saw the peasant in any of our private quarters. These were always guarded at the foot of each stairway. We were so surrounded with people that he could not have avoided being detected by many.
This false rumor grew stronger and more outrageous stories were added to it. Those spreading these cruel gossips which injured Mother’s reputation were those who never had an opportunity even to see any member of the Imperial family, people whose feet never had trodden the grounds of Tsarskoe Selo. For every person living in this village was known to the police and any stranger coming into the area was always picked up and investigated. Anyone entering there had to carry his credentials. Those who spread such propaganda lived to regret it, but their remorse came much too late. Tragic as it was, these paid agents schemed to take Father away from the front because they knew his presence was all-important.
Alexander Park was enclosed by an iron fence, which was topped with three rows of barbed wire. Inside and outside were sentries at regular intervals. Every day these grounds were searched to be sure that no one was hiding there. Not a single person could enter the palace without a great deal of red tape. There were four entrances to the palace. The peasant was not allowed to use the main gate. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake as it gave an air of mystery to his rare visits. Accompanied by Father Vassiliev, he entered through the side or garden gate (across from the Znamensky Cathedral) which was accessible to only a few. The procedure here was simpler but any such entry was recorded, as was the case at the main gate. These authentic official entries were available since the time of Peter the Great, but many were destroyed by the invading Communists.
The visitor had to present proper credentials as to whom he was to see and for what purpose. His name was written several times; also the time of his arrival to the very minute. Halfway up the driveway to the palace the door of the car or the carriage was opened and the vehicle checked; also again a note was made of the identity of the visitor. In the meantime, the sentry at the gate had already telephoned the palace guard, announcing the arrival of the person. At the palace entrance, the guard on duty opened a square, barred window, and the visitor was ushered into a room where he presented his card to the officer on duty. The latter checked and compared the name and description of the visitor with names and photographs in a book, copies of which were found on tables in various parts of the palace. Then the visitor was directed to the reception room, where Mother received him. This was the procedure for all.
At each end of the corridor, and at the foot of every stairway, there was always an officer on duty who kept a record to the minute of everyone going up and down the stairs, no matter how many times a day.
Upon departure of a visitor, the same accuracy as to time was maintained, and a record of his stay was handed to the palace police. There were also a number of runners and about thirty-five guards on duty in the corridors and stairways alone; not all were armed. That same strict rule applied to all the palace staff, including the well-known Mistress of the Robes, Madame Narishkina, and the ladies in waiting. In fact when any one of us, even Father, arrived, the carriage was always inspected. We were never left unattended and we did not know what privacy was, being always surrounded by our teachers, ladies in waiting, governesses, nurses and chambermaids who frequently entered our rooms.
Secret police continually checked every activity of everyone. It would have been impossible to enter or leave in secrecy. No doubt there was a file on Rasputin with a complete record of his visits to the minute, showing how long he had been there and whom he had seen; and the names of the officers on duty had to appear in the record, especially after it was rumored that Rasputin was a spy. The secret police were watching him; according to some it was only for his own protection. But, at the same time, his activities were being carefully scrutinized. One slip on his part would have sent him to his death. The palace chief of police kept a copy of such records; another copy was delivered to the chief of police in Petrograd. In fact, during our arrest, these records were checked on Rasputin and on every member of our family to the very morning of our departure from the palace. The Ministers were responsible for many troubles, because they gathered around Rasputin and that gave him more confidence.
As for Mother’s supposed pro-German leanings, how often I wished Kaiser Wilhelm could have been in our household to hear the uncomplimentary remarks attached to his name. Alexei and I used to stuff pillows and take shots with toy guns at Uncle Wilhelm. The name Wilhelm aroused such invectives we were ordered not to use the word.
Olga Constantinovna, wife of King George I of Greece, sister of the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich, spoke to Mother about the peasant. She had become very upset about the gossip and because of it and the hot summer of 1916, she had suffered a heart attack. Later Father’s friend, Prince Volkonsky, came to see Father to warn him about the peasant. At that time, Aunt Ella became so upset by these rumors that she sent Count Sheremetiev, a friend and distant relative of ours, to deliver the message that Rasputin had been using our family name for his personal advantage while under the influence of liquor in Moscow. Mother and Father even now refused to believe the tale. It left Father very distressed. He could not understand how this highly educated man could have allowed anyone to recount such tales to him. This good family raised a great deal of money for hospitals; in their huge villa in Petrograd they sponsored a hospital for officers and paid for the upkeep from their own pockets. Besides, two of their sons were at the front.
Shortly afterwards, Aunt Ella herself appeared at Tsarskoe Selo. First, she talked to Mother alone about the peasant, but Mother said, “Sister, you do not believe all that do you?” Ella said, “I do not, but the people do.” Mother asked, “And who are those people? Please do not speak, as the others do. There is not one word of truth in what your friends are telling you.”
Mother was especially furious and could never forgive her sister when she said that God might punish Mother by taking her son away from her. That was a most painful remark for my Mother. The following morning, Aunt Ella pleaded on her knees before my parents. Even then they refused to believe the story. Instead Father turned to his aide-de-camp saying, “Have a train ready for the Grand Duchess’ departure.” Father at once left for G.H.Q. very upset. When Aunt Ella entered the room where we had bid good-bye to Father, her eyes were wet with tears and she was wiping them with her handkerchief. This was a sorrowful parting for both sisters as well as for the whole family. We kissed her for the last time, never to see her again. When she was leaving the rooms she lifted a hand, saying, “Remember the fate of the other Empresses.” Mother and both older sisters accompanied Aunt Ella to the station. We were told that Aunt Ella knew then that Rasputin would be killed.
Mother often asked why people had not opened their eyes to see something else besides an inclination for harm, which springs from stupidity and ignorance. Why were they not able to judge us, and see the good we had done? Even now she did not see that one could be capable of falsehood. Mother had such a love for Russia that often she said, “I would rather die than see Germany win the war!” She was English in every way. She had spent most of her time with Granny (Queen Victoria), and from her earliest childhood had taken a dislike for her cousin Wilhelm, largely because of his lack of consideration toward their Granny.
During this time, Mother’s mail was more voluminous than ever. One of the letters she received called her attention to the illustrated magazine Niva, in which was an article with a photograph of a dog undergoing vivisection. Among the magazines usually to be found on the table in the room next to Mother’s room, I could not find this issue. Because we were not allowed to remove books or magazine from the shelves, Mother immediately requested Mr. Shcheglov, our librarian, to bring this magazine to her. She asked me to find the page showing this needless cruelty. I opened the periodical; it fell open at that page. Strapped to a table, the unfortunate animal was being operated on without anaesthesia. This horrifying picture made an enormous impression on us. Mother without wasting time took steps to prevent such laboratory work being done without the animals being anaesthetized.
At once she became unpopular with many technicians and medical men. We all were always sympathetic towards animals, especially Alexei who frequently took home many homeless animals; he fed them and never feared being harmed by them. This good child repeatedly said, “Some time I shall have a large place for all the animals who have no home. I will feed them and care for them myself.” Many unfortunate animals were made homeless by war. He brought dozens of cats and dogs and sent them to our farms. Proudly he once said, “I am positive there is not a mouse left here.” The farmer agreed with him there was none.
There were always appeals to Mother for help. If a son was missing, she was asked to help trace him. Any injustice which came to her attention she tried to resolve by appealing to the proper authorities. When the burdens became too heavy, Mother rushed to the Church. To her, religion was more than worship, it was life. She loved the rituals, candles, chanting and prayers. Through the unburdening of her heart, through supplication for guidance, she was strengthened and helped to think more clearly, to understand more deeply and accept God’s will with greater humility. But dishonesty, insincerity, friction and perfidious gossip were continually clouding her sense of God’s will. At such a time disunity was high treason to Church and State. She wanted a new regime so that Alexei would not have to struggle with the old autocracy handed down by his Grandfather.
Father had taken an oath in his war manifesto that he would never make peace so long as one enemy soldier remained on Russian soil. The enemy knew that only a revolution could defeat the Russian armies, so they spread a network of lies to poison the Russian mind. Their central theme held that Mother was redoubling her pro-German activities. In the Duma attacks were made on Father in an effort to discredit him. Many friends no longer participated at the meetings of the Duma; they could not stand to hear the slander of their Emperor.
These words are painful for me to put in writing, and I shall not further denounce these slanderers, as it would be against my Christian belief.
Word was brought from General Headquarters that Alexei had caught cold on the train during a trip to the front. He had sneezed and burst a blood vessel in his nose. When Dr. Fedorov was unable to stop the bleeding, also fearing that his cold might get worse, he suggested that Father return Alexei to Tsarskoe Selo. He had almost died on his way home because of the jolting and jarring and it had been necessary to stop the train several times at night in order to change Alexei’s dressings. He collapsed into unconsciousness several times and seemed to be on the verge of death. All night Nagorny had to support his head.
Meanwhile in Tsarskoe Selo, we were receiving wires posting us on his condition. Some arrived late in the evening so that Mother sat up all night, fearing that the end had come. At six in the morning Anna called Rasputin and requested him to pray for Alexei. Rasputin replied that Alexei would be better, not to worry, and that the bleeding would stop. Strange as it may seem, the bleeding did stop shortly thereafter. Later we were told that Anna informed the peasant that Alexei was better. Mother went to the station to meet the train and when Alexei was carried down the platform, he smiled at her. She was thankfully relieved. His bleeding stopped. Mother kissed him and he drew her hand to his lips. Father left again for G.H.Q. and Alexei remained at home recovering from his illness.
In spite of my brother’s poor health, our parents insisted that, as soon as his condition improved and the weather permitted, he must return to Mogilev. It was felt necessary that he prepare himself for his future responsibilities, even though his health had been impaired. Father said that Alexei was not to be shielded behind the scenes as he himself had been during the reign of Alexander III. As soon as the war should be over, Alexei, accompanied by his tutors, was to go to England to receive special training. My little brother became nervous under the strain, and we all felt sorry for him. Once, at two o’clock in the morning, Alexei awakened Olga in her room and said, “I cannot sleep; I am worried.”
The fact that I had been asked to share the responsibility with Olga and Tatiana deeply stirred me. They suggested that Mother should not be left alone in her bedroom at night while Father was away even though a maid was in the room next to Mother’s. We sisters decided to take turns spending the nights with Mother, as well as time after school hours. Alexei was hurt, because he was not asked to share this loving trust. He protested: “Am I not a member of the family? I am tired of taking humiliations from you. You seem to enjoy giving me orders.” I explained that he could do his share by sleeping in Father’s bedroom when he returned to G.H.Q. This satisfied him.
I shadowed Mother, amused her, and did everything in my power to make her happy. I did many things by which I hoped to spare her needless steps. I accepted my responsibility seriously and was a little hurt at Mother’s amused surprise at my obvious attentiveness. It pleased me to have Mother call me her little helper, because I saved her many steps. Often Alexei called Mother on the telephone and, while she was talking to him, I would run up and warn him not to call Mother again. I felt responsible for her and at the same time I was filled with a sense of importance while on duty at her side. For some time we thought Mother’s health was deteriorating under the strain of worry and sorrow. Now her heart became worse and she no longer was able to give actual care to the wounded at the hospital.
While Father was home, he had several stories about Rasputin investigated. One report declared that Rasputin had boasted in a restaurant, in public, that the embroidered upper blouse which he wore that evening had been presented to him by the Empress. Father sent for this man, whom he had disliked for so long. He questioned him about his claim. The peasant appeared to be surprised and frightened, but had finally admitted that he had made the remark. “How dare you?” Father looked straight into his eyes. Then, Father pointed to the door and Rasputin was shown out by an aide-de-camp. Olga remarked later to us sisters that the only regret she had was that the peasant had not been thrown out long before this.
Father never liked nor believed in the Starets and neither did we girls. Even Alexei was doubtful about the peasant’s honesty. In our presence, Rasputin was always respectful and unobtrusive. Mother, however, was convinced that Alexei’s life during his most severe attacks was saved by Rasputin’s prayers. Mother was impressed by the man’s simple common sense. He had such a saintly approach that Mother believed that he was a man sent by God. Most of the messages from Rasputin had come to Mother through Anna. It was at Anna’s house that Mother saw this wandering monk and their conversation was always about religion. There was little doubt that he was a healer of a sort which some Christian Churches have always known and recognized. However, many discounted Rasputin’s healing claims by explaining that he always came into the picture when Alexei was already on the way to recovery. When Alexei was previously ill, because some one inserted into his lower body some kind of serum which caused him untold suffering and many sleepless nights, Rasputin was blamed for it. It was Rasputin who made all the nurses and maids go to confess at the church as a result of which it was found that someone close to the family was responsible for this illness.
The attacks Alexei suffered had become fewer and less serious. My parents were hopeful Alexei would eventually outgrow his trouble. Alexei was often puzzled about Rasputin, whom he considered to be a healer. One day he asked, “Tell me, Mommy, why is it that God listens to the peasant’s prayers, but not to mine.” Mother honestly believed that Rasputin was sent to save her son. Under similar circumstances any mother would have felt the same.
On another occasion we had Father Vassiliev as our guest. Alexei was just getting over a bad cold. He asked why people said that the peasant was a saint. Papa replied that he would rather have Father Vassiliev explain this to Alexei. The clergyman answered that anyone who does good and lives according to the Holy Scriptures could be a saint. “Then what shall I do that God will listen to my prayers?” asked Alexei.
Father Vassiliev of the Feodorovsky Sobor taught Alexei religion. Alexei was deeply attached to his instructor, who was very religious, had a kind heart, loved people, made friends easily and was loyal and defended them when they were in trouble. Alexei was bright, lively, had a quick mind, delicate features, a white, clear complexion and coppery, auburn hair. In secret among the family he was called “Ruchka” (the hand). This he knew, although we did not at first know it.