On Saturday, July 13th, 1918 (new style), we made our final decision, after Father was questioned for the last time. Now Yurovsky and Voykov pretended to have a special interest in Alexei. We feared they might take him to Moscow, so that Father would be forced to yield to their demands. Father said they would have to kill him first before they could touch any of his children. They knew that Father meant every word of it. Those heartless men got into Alexei’s room, sat on his bed and watched him cut out his soldiers. They kept up a rapid-fire conversation, even though Alexei was annoyed. We wondered if they were trying to gain my brother’s confidence in order to poison him. So we warned Alexei not to eat anything they might give him.
Yurovsky, unlike other Commissars, constantly followed us. We were conscious of his presence and could not ignore him. He was surrounded with guards mostly of foreign origin whose breath reeked with alcohol, though he himself did not appear to take any. He told Dr. Botkin he had had pneumonia a year before and since then his doctor forbade the use of alcohol. We felt that the new guards were dangerous men.
One of them, a German or Austrian, whose name was Mebus or Nebus, said he was sent by Trotsky to search the house. He must see everything of value. He rifled through every drawer, suitcase, bed and mattress and cushion. Among the medicine bottles they found one bottle with Persian grey powder. They took the bottle, saying that it was dynamite. Dr. Botkin was present when they sent this dangerous explosive to be analyzed outside, in spite of his explanation that it was a powder prescribed for Mother to be used in a vaporizer for her sinus trouble. Shortly thereafter it was returned, having been found by the chemists to be a harmless powder.
After his initial haul, Mebus returned, saying he had been searching in the bathroom, and announced that he had found some bullets wrapped in a woman’s garment, also some guns hidden under something, God knows where. We saw that the garment in question was a blouse belonging to one of us sisters, probably taken from the trunks in the attic, but we had not seen these trunks nor the garment since we left Tobolsk. The keys of these trunks and our money had been entrusted to General Tatishchev, but upon our arrival in Ekaterinburg we were separated from him. The Commissars probably confiscated the General’s belongings and thus found the keys, which they must have recognized as ours by special markings upon them.
We did not know where the entrance to this attic was. As to the blouse, it was originally sent to us in Tobolsk by Anna Vyrubova. Nebus or Mebus came in with the blouse, accompanied by a Commissar named Horwath, a Hungarian, and by four or five others who spoke German. When we heard them saying “Kishason” (lady), we knew they were Hungarians. One of these men wore an open shirt, and from his neck hung a black cord, a cross and a small square bag of soiled white cloth with something in it.
Thousands of these prisoners of war had willingly joined the Cheka, some for political reasons, others for religious reasons—or lack of them—and still others for loot. Horwath’s companions also included two Jews named Beloborodov and Goloshchekin (they had adopted these names). They fixed their eyes on our icons with a remark to which we did not reply.
That same afternoon Yurovsky, Beloborodov, Goloshchekin and Horwath walked through our rooms, demanding that we place all our jewels on the table. At this time we wore only our gold baptismal crosses and silver rings with an inscription “Save and Protect us”. We were afraid not to expose everything, especially with eyes fastened on us girls so suspiciously. They made no effort to examine our travelling clothes and for that we were thankful. They took everything they saw. Yurovsky with the help of others made a list of every item, then gave Father a copy—a scrap of paper—as a receipt, signed by all four thieves. He asked Father to value each item. Father said, “They have great sentimental value to us, since many of them are gifts from my wife’s family and her grandmother—Queen Victoria—and from myself.” Yurovsky asked: “But how much would such a piece cost if purchased today?” Father answered, “I am not a jeweler by trade, I cannot put a value on them.” Their grasping hands trembled when they took our treasures and placed them between layers in a cushioned bag. Later by searching the dining room and among the household things they found some gold-coated candles. They became suspicious and melted some but, to their disappointment, found nothing in them. The clinking of glasses in the office that evening kept us awake until long past midnight. No doubt the jewels were disposed of before our eyes were closed. These stolen and now blood-stained treasures were sold in foreign lands and are no doubt now adorning various ladies in many countries.
Early in the evening of this Saturday, Yurovsky stood excitedly at the door of our parents’ bedroom and said, “Nicholai Alexandrovich, your request is granted. The priest will be here tomorrow to conduct Sunday services.” The same evening we gathered some icons and, with the help of Father’s valet, a table was prepared in the middle of the rear wall and covered with a long white towel. We got everything ready for the next morning and prayed that there would be no unpleasantness between these godless men and the priest.
Sunday morning, July 14th, arrived and as we assembled in our room, Yurovsky came in and asked if we were ready. “Right, we are,” said Father. One of us sisters wheeled Alexei’s chair into the room. He gazed happily around with a greeting to the little group of a few friends who waited for us to enter the big room. However, a mistake had been made in this service. In his note to Yurovsky, Father had requested a service called “Obiednya” at which Communion is administered. We were all surprised to find that “Obiednitsa” was being conducted at which no Communion is administered. It is a service that is held for the dead.
Father asked Dr. Botkin to check with Yurovsky, because he had requested a Communion. Yurovsky motioned to the priest, saying, “A Communion is requested.” Evidently Yurovsky knew that the service for the dead was meant for our own funeral service. No doubt Father must have known that the tragedy was near because he requested the Communion. While the priest made his preparations and covered the wine chalice with a fine embroidered cloth, Yurovsky made an attempt to take the chalice from him to see what was in it. Father Storozhev jerked the chalice away and in a trembling voice shouted, “I will not let you touch this Holy Sacrament with your hands.” The priest stood some distance from us, since we were not permitted to have confession in the usual way. He raised the cross and said, “God shall forgive your sins.” We went to our knees in tears as Yurovsky stood aside watching us. We sisters were weeping throughout the entire service, and, as our hearts were only human, we could not chant during this service. We arose; the priest held the cloth over the chalice and administered the Holy Communion to us, while the deacon sang the creed.
Father Storozhev had brought the usual prosphora—the small biscuit which is given to each communicant—but Yurovsky insisted on breaking each of these into pieces to make sure there was nothing hidden in them. Dr. Botkin and others who until now had maintained their composure broke down. A napkin was brought and the prosphora was broken into pieces by the priest, and the service was concluded. In this dimly-lighted room a rite so divine and profound in our moment of solitude gave us a secret hope in our hearts. After the service Father kissed on both cheeks, according to Russian custom, the few remaining friends—Dr. Botkin, Trup, Kharitonov and the little Leonid. Mother and we sisters kissed Anna Demidova, our faithful maid.
Mother gave her hand to Dr. Botkin; he bowed and kissed her fingertips. All noticed that on his face was a strange expression. He was nervous after hearing the prophetic words being sung “Peace to the Soul.” He kissed us children on both cheeks, while tears fell from his eyes and remained between his glasses and the bags beneath his eyes.
Dear Papula, how he suffered beyond measure for his loyalty to us. His face always brightened whenever he saw me. I always engaged him in a conversation. Somehow he felt closer to Alexei and to me than to our sisters. At the end this good man became bold, in spite of his frailty. He was somewhat older than my Father. At that time Father was fifty years old and Mother forty-six. There was a unity and peace among us. Father said, without bitterness, “A great crime is being committed, but I feel we have been true to ourselves and to Russia. The Russian people have been betrayed.” Olga, who could say things so beautifully, added from her tender heart, “The Russian people have been hypnotized and one must not judge them by the present. They are good people.” Dr. Botkin added, “Be true, do not fear, in a minute all will pass.” We were startled at his words, and we wondered afterwards whether he realized the full meaning of what he was saying. He must have known of our destiny.
In spite of the hostile actions of Yurovsky and his accomplices throughout Father Storozhev’s service, we felt we had been enfolded by God and filled with power to ignore the brutality of the guards. When they came into the sitting room while Father was reading aloud, one of us stood up, so that they might see as little as possible.
On Monday, July 15th two maids came to clean the rooms as usual. Obviously they were frightened and seemed anxious to deliver some message to us, but the guards’ presence everywhere prevented any communication. On the same day, Yurovsky brought his associates to the house. These included Voykov, Goloshchekin and Jacob Sverdlov who were comrades of Lenin, Trotsky, and other international conspirators. We saw these four and others in the house all day long; they followed us even into the garden, when we went out for a fifteen minute walk in the afternoon. Once Sverdlov said to Father that when the festivities of the Three Hundred Year rule of the Romanov Dynasty were celebrated in 1913, he was ready to blow up the whole Imperial family with a bomb. Father replied, “What kept you from doing it? I probably would not be here today nor would my family be.”
On Tuesday July the 16th, the young kitchen boy, Leonid, who used to come to play with Alexei for an hour every day, had no sooner arrived than a guard announced that Leonid’s uncle, Ivan Sidniev (our former footman) had come to see the boy. The little fellow jumped to his feet and happily said, “Oh, please forgive me, I shall be back.” We knew right then, it was some sort of trick. When he did not return and Father inquired why, he was told, “Tomorrow he will come.”
On the 16th also, Alexei got up, though his cold was worse, due to the hot water treatments for his swollen hands and feet which were still partially paralyzed. In the afternoon, we took him into the small garden where he was able to walk a little, but had to be carried down the steps. We all went out except Marie, who remained with Mother who had not been out for several days.
While we were in the garden a pigeon flew toward the porch, frantically flapping its wings. Then it flew to the other side of the house, where we were not allowed to walk. Upon our return Mother to our surprise told us that a bird flapped its wings on her bedroom window and she could see only a fluttering shadow of a bird’s wings in the window glass which was painted white. Then she said, “At the coronation we were presented with two birds; and, as you remember, during the Three Hundredth Anniversary a pigeon flew inside the Cathedral when the service was held; and today a bird came into the picture again.”
Some time before the tragedy Dr. Botkin was sent by Yurovsky to ask Mother if she wished her sister Ella to come to see her and that, if so, Yurovsky would arrange her transportation. Mother at once wrote to her sister to say that we were looking forward to her arrival.
Very late that afternoon, Father and the rest of us were asked by Goloshchekin and Yurovsky to write letters to our friends and relatives here and abroad to the effect that we were in the far North, in Sweden, and that we were quite happy in our new surroundings. Olga angrily replied, “If we get there, we will write to our friends from there and not from here.” Dr. Botkin had written such a letter or letters under pressure since he feared for the lives of his children. He said he had written one to Madame Elizabeth Narishkina and one or more to his children hoping they were still in Tobolsk.
Evidently those men wanted the world to believe that we escaped at night and were hiding somewhere in the wilderness and that our friends after receiving such letters would be satisfied that we were safe. In this way they wanted to hide their crime from the people. While Father was reading, suddenly he turned to us and said, “It is exactly twenty-seven years this month (July 1918) since I returned from Japan and that is the icon which was presented to me in the Government of Ufa upon my arrival there.” It was from the Government of Ufa that Father’s train was returned a few weeks earlier to Ekaterinburg. Someone commented that it seemed weird that Father suddenly at this time should remember that unpleasant event which took place in Japan, where he almost lost his life.
In the evening Yurovsky walked into our sitting room startling us. Jemmy, my little dog, charged at him, snarling. She had never acted like that before. I called her back, but it was too late. Yurovsky grabbed her by the neck and carried her away, saying, “Who brought this dog up here?”
Yurovsky reappeared as if nothing had happened and began talking, though no one heard what he said. Our only thought was, “What became of Jemmy?” No apologetic attitude crept into his affability. He continued to talk and to toy with my frightened stupefaction. Then he walked to Alexei and sat on his bed as if they were on the most intimate terms. He pulled out a revolver and handed it to brother saying, “Do you want to see an American automatic?” “No,” replied Alexei. No doubt all the warning given against the man leaped into the boy’s mind. He did not want to take it but Yurovsky thrust the weapon into his hand. “Is it loaded?” asked Alexei. Father stood up next to Alexei and said, “Please leave my son alone, he is not well.” Ignoring Father’s request Yurovsky answered, “It is not loaded now, but it will be.” Alexei became frightened as he held the pistol and Yurovsky regarded him with amusement.
At last Yurovsky went out. Mother with trembling hands picked up a book as we gathered around while Father read aloud. He let the book open itself and read: “Let us take courage and be strong, look straight with our spiritual eyes up to Christ.” Then again he read: “Do not fear those who kill the body, but those who wish to kill the soul.” It may not be exact but as I remember it went like that. His voice was hardly stronger than a whisper. We could hardly hear him over the drunken shouts that shrieked through the house from the guards’ quarters. Mother bent her head close to the window and listened in bewildered absorption. Her cheeks turned somewhat red, she looked around and smiled. Finally she said, “I hear the beautiful Ave Maria so clearly, just as if it were being played in this very room.” We strained our ears again but could not hear what Mother claimed she was hearing.
I tried desperately to lose myself in the quotation which Father had just read, but Jemmy kept coming to my mind. I was afraid they had killed her. Father said, “Most of the Russian people usually are kind to animals.” Those were comforting words, but was Yurovsky a Russian? I was depressed with the thoughts about Jemmy, added to the off-key singing of the guards downstairs. Mother also noticed that they seemed unusually noisy this night, and they were drinking entirely too much. Father laid the book down and said: “The best thing we can do is to go to bed and forget about it.”
That evening as Father crossed the hall he saw several extra guards examining some rifles in the middle of the hall near the doors between the office and the stairway. When they saw Father, they lowered the butts of their rifles to the floor. Father knew every make of gun. He said, “These are the high-powered, German army rifles holding usually five cartridges; they can be fired singly or in rapid succession.” Olga replied, “I remember at the hospital, soldiers used to come with their bones shattered and their flesh mutilated. We always knew the type of gun which inflicted such wounds. Russian guns caused clean wounds.” Then Father added, “If Wilhelm had enough poison, he would have poisoned all the bullets.” This was the last time he mentioned the Kaiser’s name. It was four or five hours before the tragedy.
Father knew the Kaiser was obsessed with the thought of victory at any cost, victory even if it meant the sacrifice of the Kaiser’s own godson, my brother, whom he had vowed to protect according to our religion; also the sacrifice of his own cousins, my parents, and their daughters, too, for whom on his last visit in 1912 he had professed so much love. All this must have been on his conscience. Yet Holland gave refuge to this man who enslaved Russia and his own country as well.
These German guns which Father saw were frightening but we could not believe and it did not even come to our minds that Wilhelm, bad as he was, would permit the assassination of our family. We knew that Germany had demanded that our family should be delivered to Moscow unharmed; apparently the German High Command had learned of the character of our jailers.
Later I heard that the assassination was not known to Wilhelm until afterwards and that the German High Command was responsible, as well as some of our Allies, for all the catastrophe in my land. They had sent, or permitted, these men to come to Russia in order to bring about a revolution. They knew that if the old government should recover power it would not be pleasant for those responsible for the terrible killings and robberies they had caused in my country.
After my escape I was told that, when the Kaiser heard of the killing of our family and of the Grand Duchess Elizabeth and some of the other Romanovs, the Kaiser was beyond himself. He cried bitterly for hours, saying: “I have lost my best friend. Nicky was my best friend. I loved them all. My hands are clean. Why have the other cousins permitted such crimes to take place? My conscience is clean. I did not know what they were doing. I had nothing to do with it. It was Mirbach and Ludendorff, supported by those Nicky believed were his friends.”
In the last hours at Ekaterinburg Father spoke and his words are still fresh in my mind. He said: “It is the end of Russia, but of the Allies, too. They have dug their own graves and soon they too will lie in them, and Germany will pay retribution for her deeds of treachery. No one can escape consequences, no matter what they do to avoid them; sooner or later they will have to pay. The taste of blood is an epidemic and it will soon flow all over the world.”
Wilhelm could not bring disgrace on Father before the people of Russia, but he did bring disgrace on himself before the world.
The orders to kill the entire Romanov family came direct to Voykov, Beloborodov, Goloshchekin from the top Bolshevik leaders: Trotsky, Lenin, Sverdlov, Apfelbaum and the other men I have mentioned previously. They exchanged telegrams daily. On the 16th of July Yurovsky had a long talk with the men in Moscow. In the afternoon when Yurovsky came into our sitting room, Mother got up and went into her bedroom. He boasted that he, Sverdlov, Beloborodov and other comrades in Ekaterinburg were connected by telephone the entire morning talking with the comrades in Moscow. Dr. Botkin told us later that Yurovsky had talked with Trotsky, Lenin and others and that Goloshchekin or Sverdlov, or both, had just returned from Moscow, and that there had been a great deal of activity and excitement at the office.
In fact the Kremlin leaders were responsible for sending the Austro-Hungarians and Letts to guard the house inside for the last two weeks. Father remarked, “They use the same tactics as the Chinese did in the Boxer rebellion. But the danger here has come to the native people in their own land but not to foreigners.”
These two weeks our lives had hung by a thread and on the 16th of July between 9:00 A.M. and 12:30 P.M. our destiny was sealed.
During my escape my rescuer told me that all the guards outside the house—they were Russians—were given vodka to drink—as much as they could consume. None of them knew what was to take place inside that night. He also told me that one of his friends was told by one of the outside guards that the crime never would have taken place if the guards inside had been Russians and if the guards outside had not all been given free drinks late that evening. These outside guards, Russians, would have turned their guns on the foreigners because their humiliation was at its summit.