Chapter 7      
A NOVEL IN LETTERS

The German embassies were burned. The Literary and Artistic Circle expelled anyone with a German name. The future Prime Minister Boris Stürmer considered changing his German name. Petersburg was renamed Petrograd.

All debates in the Duma were forgotten. Unity, unity! All discord in the large Romanov family was forgotten.

To his joy, now, during this national war, Nicholas gained the right to pardon—and his brother Misha returned to Russia. Only to perish there a few years later. Unity, unity!

The story of his great-grandfather flickered before him: like the war with Napoleon, this would be a patriotic war. The entire people. Unity, unity! He set out for Moscow, the ancient capital, the symbol of the Fatherland.

The Kremlin. The emperor and the family entered the white marble St. George Hall, Alexei (as usual he was sick, having hurt his leg) carried by his sailor-companion; alongside the tsaritsa was her sister Ella.

Maurice Paléologue recorded the emperor’s inspired words: “A magnificent impulse has gripped all Russia, without distinction for tribe or nationality. Hence, from the heart of the Russian land, I send my valiant warriors fervent greeting. God is with us!”

Outside Assumption Cathedral, by the bell tower of Ivan the Great, there were immense crowds. The bell chimes drowned out their ecstatic cries, and the marshal of the court, Count Benckendorff, gazing at the smiling crowd, spoke triumphantly and mockingly: “Here’s the revolution they promised us in Berlin!”

Yes, warnings had come from Berlin: if there is war, it may well end in revolution in Russia. Actually, there had been many such warnings earlier as well, at the very start of Nicholas’s reign. But now all was forgotten: smiling shouts—the people were greeting the tsar’s family. There was joy on Alix’s face, for the first time in many months. Her dream had come true. How unexpectedly it had been achieved, this long-awaited unity—the people and the tsar!

In the golden dusk of the ancient Assumption Cathedral, the trembling flames of candles, court singers in silver garments from the sixteenth century, the source of the Romanov dynasty. The Divine Liturgy was read, and the precious stones on the brocade of the clergy’s vestments flickered in the candlelight.

In just three years, lost in wintry Siberia, they would recall this ringing of bells, this ecstasy of the people at the sight of their emperor.

“Official and private information reaching me from all over Russia is one and the same. The same popular exclamations and reverential zeal, the same rallying around the tsar.… No dissent whatsoever. The difficult days of 1905 seem to have been crossed out of their minds. Holy Russia’s collective soul has not expressed such power since 1812,” wrote the French ambassador.

On what a triumphant note this epilogue began.

“Everything has been closed up, all the revolutions have hidden themselves away, everyone’s thoughts are of common service to the Homeland. One breathes very easily in this pure atmosphere, which has become almost unknown among us,” wrote a Duma deputy.

In 1914 sadness bordering on despair reigned among the Bolshevik revolutionaries.

The Bolshevik leaders were scattered across the world: Lenin, Zinoviev, and Trotsky were in hopeless emigration. Actually, no one in Russia gave them the slightest thought now, except maybe the police.

Apathy and hopelessness had gripped the exiled revolutionaries. A most curious company gathered that year in Turukhansk exile: a certain young Georgian spent entire days on his cot, his face to the wall. He had stopped taking care of himself, had even stopped washing his dishes, and the dog licked his plate. His name was Joseph, and one of his party names was Stalin. In just four years he would be living behind the Kremlin Wall, right where the tsar and his family were now.

Here was another resident of Turukhansk exile. He too had fallen into a severe depression. Then, in September 1914, another exiled Bolshevik, Sverdlov, ran into him here. Sverdlov was linked with him not only by a commonality of views but also by an old and fond friendship. It was with chagrin that Sverdlov wrote his wife: “I spent a few days with George. He’s not doing very well.… It is absolutely impossible for him to live away from turbulent activity. We need to find some outlet for his energy.”

“George” was one of Goloshchekin’s party names. Thus two old friends met in Turukhansk—Goloshchekin and Sverdlov, the two future organizers of the execution of the tsar and his family.

And Ekaterinburg, where the last tsar parted with his life, would be renamed Sverdlovsk after one of these two friends now in exile.

Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich became commander-in-chief, and soon afterward the Tsar of All the Russias set out for the front to join the army, to Headquarters at Baranovitchi.

The tsar went to war, and the tsaritsa wrote him letters. “The tsar went to war”—that is how fairy tales used to start. Once upon a time, in another century, preparing to become the rulers of the country, they had written each other endless letters. Now, on the eve of his farewell to the throne, everything was repeating itself. Between these two streams of letters lay their entire life. A life that did not require them to resort to the pen, for in twenty years of marriage they had rarely been apart. And here it was: war.

As once before, they wrote each other in English. Many years had passed since she had come to Russia, but she still thought in the language of her grandmother Victoria. She placed a cross at the end of her letters: “Save and protect.”

“I REREAD YOUR LETTERS AND TRY TO IMAGINE IT IS MY BELOVED TALKING TO ME”

In their letters, they carried on a conversation. Here I take snatches from their vanished speech.

She: “Ts[arskoe] S[elo], Sept. 19th 1914. My own, my very own sweet One. I am so happy for you that you can at last manage to go, as I know how deeply you have been suffering all this time—yr. restless sleep has been even a proof of it.… Except all I go through with you & our beloved country & men I suffer for my ‘small old home’ & her troops & Ernie.… egoistically I suffer horribly to be separated—we are not accustomed to it & I do so endlessly love my very own precious Boysy dear. Soon 20 years that I belong to you & what bliss it has been….

“Sept. 20th 1914. Oh, my love! It was hard bidding you goodbye and seeing that lonely pale face with big sad eyes at the waggon-window—my heart cried out, take me with you.… I came home and then broke down, prayed—then lay down and smoked to get myself into order. When eyes looked more decent I went up to Alexei and lay for a time near him on the sopha in the dark.”

He: “Headquarters, 22 September, 1914.… How terrible it was parting from you and the dear children, though I knew that it was not for long. The first night I slept badly, because the engines jerked the train roughly at each station. I arrived here the next day at 5.30; it was cold and raining hard. Nicolasha met me at the station at Baranovitchi….

“[The officers] made a long and interesting report to me in their train, where, as I expected, the heat was terrible!…

“Beloved mine, I kiss you again and again.… I am quite free and have time to think of my Wify and my family. It is strange, but it is so.”

She: “Sept. 24th, 1914.… Sweetheart, I hope you sleep better now, I cannot say that of myself, the brain seems to be working all the time and never wanting to rest. Hundreds of ideas and combinations come bothering one—I reread your dear letters several times and try to think its Lovy speaking to me. Somehow we see so little of each other, you are so much occupied and one does not like to bother with questions when you are tired after your reports and then we are never alone together….

“25th.… This miserable war, when will it ever end. William, I feel sure must at times pass through hideous moments of despair, when he grasps that it was he, and especially his antirussian set, wh. began the war and is dragging his country into ruin. All those little states, for years they will continue suffering from the aftereffects. It makes my heart bleed when I think of how hard Papa and Ernie struggled to bring our little country to its present state of prosperity.… Prayers and implicit trust in God’s mercy alone, give one strength to bear all. And our Friend helps you carry yr. heavy cross and great responsibilities—and all will come right, as the right is on our side.” (“Our Friend,” “Gr.,” or “He”—this is what she called the Holy Devil in her correspondence. This third party was constantly present. She would mention him hundreds of times in her letters.)

Nicholas returned to Tsarskoe Selo. And soon again—“the tsar went to war.” As always, in the train car he found her letter. It was a ritual.

She: “Oct. 20th.… Twenty years to-morrow that you reign & I became orthodox! How the years have flown, how much we have lived through together….

“Oct. 22nd 1914.… How vile one having thrown bombs from aeroplans on to King Albert’s [the Belgian king] Villa.… thank God no harm was done but I have never known one trying to kill a sovereign because he is one’s enemy during the war!” (They were still living in the nineteenth century, and the new iron age shocked them.)

“Oct. 24th 1914.… There were many wounded … one officer had been 4 days in Olga’s hospital and said there was not such a second sister.”

Now the empress was working in the hospital alongside her daughters.

“Oct. 27th 1914.… Oh this miserable war! At moments one cannot bear it any more, the misery & bloodshed break one’s heart.… All over the world losses! Well, some good must come out of it, & they wont all have shed their blood in vain. Life is difficult to understand—It must be so—have patience; that is all one can say—One does so long for quiet happy times again! But we shall have long to wait.”

He: “27 October, 1914.… At last I am able to write a few lines.… I found old Petyusha [Prince Peter of Oldenburg, husband to the tsar’s sister Olga].… They spent three hours under the fire of the Austrian heavy artillery.… Petya conducted himself with the utmost coolness and requests an award for himself; I therefore gave him the Arms of St. George, which made him nearly mad [with joy].… I had the pleasure of spending the whole of Saturday with Misha, who has become quite his old self and is again charming.”

Yes, Michael Alexandrovich and his wife, who now bore the title Countess Brasova, were back. Misha would receive the Cross of St. George, commanding an irregular cavalry. They were alike, Nicky and Misha. They both loved their wives very much, and Misha, like Nicky, worried about his wife’s nerves; Countess Brasova had not forgiven her humiliation. Her salon would open the doors wide to the Duma’s left-wing deputies. “In court circles she is even accused of betraying tsarism.… She says things for which someone else would have been sentenced to twenty years in Siberia,” wrote Paléologue.

Again Nicky is at Tsarskoe Selo, only soon, once again….

She: “Nov. 17th 1914.… Once more the hour of separation has come—& always equally hard to bear … when you are gone … a bit of my life gone—we make one.… You always bring revival as our Friend says … comforting to know His prayers follow you—It is good you can have a thorough talk with N[icholas Nikolaevich] & tell him your opinion of some people & give him some ideas.”

News had already reached “our Friend” that the commander-in-chief was gathering evidence against him. He complained to “Mama”—and now Alix asked Nicholas to suggest “a few ideas” to the commander-in-chief.

She: “Our last night together, its horribly lonely without you—and so silent—nobody lives in this story. Holy angels guard you.”

He: “18 November, 1914. My beloved Sunny and darling Wify.… I have read your sweet, tender letter with moist eyes. This time I succeeded in keeping myself in hand at the moment of parting, but it was a hard struggle.… My love, I miss you terribly—more than I can express in words.… I shall try to write very often, as, to my amazement, I have come to the conclusion that I can write while the train is in motion. My hanging trapeze has proved very practical and useful. I swung on it many times and climbed up it before meals. It is really an excellent thing for the train, it stirs up the blood and the whole organism.”

From the letter of Konstantin Sheboldaev, a pensioner who had worked for the Ministry of Internal Affairs:

“When I arrived in Sverdlovsk I was shown the Ipatiev house. At that time it was already a special attraction, for the select—visit the house where the tsar’s family was shot. By the way, near the fence they showed me the place where he had his trapeze. When he arrived he immediately hung it and began swinging. His feet went high over the fence. At that moment they immediately decided to put up a double fence.”

She: “No. 19.… Nov. 20th 1914. There is a belated gnat flying around my head whilst I am writing to you.… Dearest Beloved—I kiss yr. cushion morn and evening and bless it and long for its treasured master.… It’s quite mild weather. Baby is going in his motor and then Olga … will take him to the big palace to see the officers who are impatient for him. I am too tired to go and we have at 5¼ an amputation … in the big hospital.… My nose is full of hideous smells from those blood-poisoning wounds.”

“HOW CLOSE DEATH IS ALWAYS”

General Samsonov’s army perished in the swamps. The terrible defeats and losses were cooling popular enthusiasm. The wounded, the refugees, the sweat, blood, and dirt. All Europe was heaped in this.

She: “Nov. 24th 1914.… The news from out there make one so anxious—I don’t listen to the gossip of town which makes one otherwise quite serious, but only believe what Nicolasha lets know. Nevertheless I begged A[nya] to wire to our Friend that things are very serious and we beg for his prayers….

“Nov. 25th 1914.… In great haste a few lines. We were occupied all morning—during an operation a soldier died—it was too sad—the first such time it had happened to the Princess … the girlies were brave—they and Ania had never seen a death.… It made us all so sad as you can imagine—how near death always is.”

At that time he was on his way to the Caucasus via the larger Cossack villages.

He: “25 November, 1914, in the train. My beloved, darling Sunny!… We [he had taken with him on his journey Nikolai Pavlovich Sablin, his aide-de-camp and one of the closest members of his retinue] are passing through picturesque country which is new to me, with beautiful high mountains on one side and steppes on the other.… I sat for a long time at the open door of the carriage and breathed in the warm fresh air with delight. At each station the platforms are crowded with people, especially children … they are charming with their tiny papakha [fur caps] on their heads.… The train is jolting terribly, so you must excuse my writing. After the hospitals I looked in for a minute at the Kouban Girls’ Institute and at a large orphanage dating from the last war, all of them Cossack girls.… They look well and unconstrained, here and there a pretty face.… This country of the Cossacks is magnificent and rich; a large number of orchards. They are beginning to be wealthy, above all they have an inconceivably high number of small infants. All future subjects. This all fills me with joy and faith in God’s mercy; I must look forward in peace and confidence to what lies in store for Russia.”

She: “Nov. 28th 1914. My very own precious One! [I am] glad you two sinners had pretty faces to look at—I see more other parts of the body, less ideal ones!!”

Again he returned and left.

She: “Dec. 14th 1914.… Sunbeam [Alexei] has just gone out in the donkey sledge—he kisses you—he can put the foot down.… How horrid it was saying goodbye to you in Moscou, seeing you stand there amongst heaps of people.… I had to bow and look at them too and smile and could not keep my eyes fixed on you as should have wished to….

“Dec. 15th 1914. My beloved Darling,… and now Botkin got the news from the regiment that his son was killed as he could not surrender—a German officer, prisoner told the news; poor man is quite broken down.… My heart is still enlarged and aches, as does my head.… I press you to my heart and kiss you over and over again.”

Evgeny Sergeyevich Botkin was the son of the very famous Sergei Botkin, physician to Alexander II and Alexander III, whose sons also became doctors: the famous Sergei and the much more modest but unusually good and sincere Evgeny Sergeyevich.

The empress was complaining more and more of her sick heart. She spent hours in bed trying to vanquish the dull pain in her heart. The most famous European luminaries were summoned to the palace. They did not find heart disease in the tsaritsa, but they did diagnose nervous ailments and ordered a change of regimen.

Alix could not stand it when anyone disagreed with her. This applied to diagnoses of her illness as well. That is why the easygoing Evgeny Sergeyevich was invited to become her personal physician. On one hand, this continued the tradition of Botkins as personal physicians; on the other, the obliging Evgeny Sergeyevich immediately prescribed for the tsaritsa familiar medicine: lie undisturbed. He did this not because he did not understand her condition. The familiar diagnosis calmed her; contradicting Alix meant increasing what was for her perilous agitation.

“THE OLD COUPLE SELDOM GET A CHANCE OF BEING TOGETHER”

The year 1914 had come to an end. Petrograd’s winter sun was pale—outside the palace windows it sparkled on the blindingly white snow of Tsarskoe Selo. A string of carriages and an auto (the twentieth century!) were waiting at the entrance to the Great Palace. In the mirror gallery, the diplomatic corps had lined up. Nicholas, accompanied by his suite, walked among the diplomats. He had a long conversation with the French ambassador: “The journey I have just completed all the way across Russia has shown me that I am in spiritual accord with my people.” And suddenly, in a completely different voice full of worry, he added: “I know of several attempts … to spread the idea that I am dispirited and no longer believe anymore in the possibility of crushing Germany and that I even intend to conduct peace negotiations. These are rumors spread by no-goods and German agents.”

After ushering in the new year at Tsarskoe Selo, the tsar left for the front at the end of January.

She: “Jan. 22nd 1915. My beloved One, Baby … begins to complain a little of his leg & dreads the night.… Ania begs me to tell you what she forgot giving over to you yesterday from our Friend, that you must be sure not once to mention the name of the commander-in-chief in your manifest—it must solely come from you to the people. [Her war with Nicholas Nikolaevich was heating up.] … Sweet treasure, I am writing in bed, after 6—the room looks big & empty, as the tree has been taken away.”

He: “26 January, 1915.… I visited Nicolasha and inspected his new railway carriage; very comfortable and practical one, but the heat in it is such that one cannot endure it above half an hour. We discussed thoroughly several important questions and, to my joy, came to an entire agreement.… I must say, that when he is alone and in a good humour he is sound … a great change in him since the beginning of the war. Life in this isolated place, which he calls his ‘hermitage,’ and the sense of the crushing responsibility whichrests on his shoulders, must have made a deep impression upon his soul; and that, if you will, is a great achievement too.”

He dreamed so of accord. He needed to calm her, so he reported: Nikolasha was alone, that is, without those dreadful “Montenegrin women”—Rasputin’s enemies.

He: “28 February, 1915. My beloved darling!… I was so happy to spend those two days at home—perhaps you noticed it, but I am foolish, and never speak of what I feel. What a nuisance it is to be always so busy and not to have an opportunity for sitting quietly together and having a talk! After dinner I cannot stay indoors, as I long to get out in the fresh air—and so all the free hours pass, and the old couple seldom get a chance of being together.”

She: “March 8th 1915. My own beloved One, I hope you get my letters regularly, I write and number them daily, also in my little lilac book.… Just heard that Irene [Irina, Sandro and Xenia’s daughter, married to Felix Yusupov] had a daughter (thought it would be a girl).”

Reading this letter he must have sighed: how time flies. He well remembered the day when Irina herself was born, it was all so recent, and here Irina was already having….

Vera Leonidovna:

“Handsome Felix had what are called ‘grammatical errors,’ that is, he was bisexual, plain and simple.… Gossip outlives people. But the two of them—they were an amazing couple—they were so attractive. What bearing! Breeding!”

She: “March 9th 1915.… What happiness to know, that the day after tomorrow I shall be holding you tight in my arms again, listening to your dear voice and looking into your beloved eyes.… I enclose a letter from Masha (from Austria) which she was asked to write to you, for peace’s sake. I never answer her letters, of course, now.”

In 1915, lady-in-waiting Maria Vasilchikova (Masha) was staying at her villa in Austria. One day, as she later explained, three strangers appeared at her house and proposed that she send the sovereign the following message: “Your Imperial Highness’s love of peace is well known throughout all Europe.… Austria and Germany are already sufficiently convinced of the force of Russian arms,” and so on. In short, the strangers appeared with a proposal from Germany (as yet unofficial) that the three representatives—of Austria, Russia, and Germany—meet secretly to begin talks on a separate peace. It was suggested that the meeting be arranged in Stockholm.

He understood that the story of the letter would engender all the same abominable rumors. When he read “the letter from Masha,” Nicholas immediately passed it on to his minister of foreign affairs. He wanted everyone to know that he was making no secret of these proposals, for they were unacceptable to him. Nicholas was in a hurry. A paradox: twenty years before, when the straightforward Wilhelm parted with Alix in Berlin, he had been certain that she would become a loyal support for Germany in Russia. However, precisely because she was a German princess, Alix had to be above suspicion in any peace initiative, in any attempt to conclude a peace with Germany. Appreciating the whole horror of the war, dreaming of peace with her homeland, and possessing the most enormous influence over Nicholas’s decisions, she was compelled to be silent. To suffer in silence and thereby demonstrate her adherence to all-out war.

Masha was instructed to return to Russia immediately.

Again the tsar was staying at Tsarskoe Selo, only to leave very shortly.

She: “April 4th 1915.… Once more you are leaving us, and I think with gladness, because the life you had here, all excepting the work in the garden—is more than trying and tiring. We have seen next to nothing of each other through my having been lain up. Full many a thing have I not had time to ask, and when together only late in the evening, half the thoughts have flown away again.”

Indeed, he was not talkative, and when they were together they did not talk. Only separation engendered this spate of affection.

She: “Every possible tender word for to-morrow [their beloved April 8, the anniversary of their engagement, was coming up]. The first time in 21 years we dont spend this anniversary together—How vividly one remembers all! Ah my beloved Boy, what happiness & love you have given me all these years….

“April 8th 1915.… How the years go by! 21 already. You know I have kept the grey princesse dress I wore that morning. And shall wear yr. dear brooch.”

At about that time Vasilchikova returned to Petrograd—and evidently brought with her letters from Germany.

She: “April 17th 1915.… I had a long, dear letter fr. Erni—I will show it you upon your return. He says that ‘if there is someone who understands him (i.e., you) & know what he is going through, then it is me.’ He kisses you tenderly. He longs for a way out of this dilemma, that someone ought to begin to make a bridge for discussion. So he had an idea of quite privately sending a man of confidence to Stockholm, who should meet a gentleman sent by you (privately) that they could help disperse many momentary difficulties. He had this idea, as in Germany there is no real hatred against Russia. So he sent a gentleman to be there on the 28.… So I at once wrote an answer … & sent it the gentleman, telling him you are not yet back, so he better not wait—& that tho one longs for peace, the time has not yet come. I wanted to get all done before you return, as I know it would be unpleasant for you.”

How she hoped he would suddenly say, “The time has come.” In vain.

May 6 was approaching.

She: “May 4th 1915.… So sad we shall not spend your dear birthday together—the first time!… It is not an easy nor light cross He has placed upon yr. shoulders—would that I could help you carrying, in prayers & thoughts I ever do. I would yearn to lessen yr. burden—so much you have had to suffer in those 20 years—& you were borne on the day of the long-suffering Job too, my poor Sweetheart.”

“IT IS EASIER FOR ME TO PUT IT DOWN ON PAPER—OWING TO STUPID SHYNESS”

She: “June 13th.… I am sad that your dear heart does not feel right, please let Botkin see you upon yr. return.… I feel so awfully for those who have anything with the heart, suffering from it myself for so many years. Hiding ones sorrow, swallowing all, makes it so bad.… Your eyes seemed like it at times. Only always tell it me, as I have after all enough experience with heart complains & I can perhaps help you. Speak about all to me, talk it out, cry even, it makes it phisically too, easier sometimes….

“June 14th 1915.… Then he [Grand Duke Paul] mentioned another thing to me wh. tho’ painful its better to warn you about—namely, that since 6 months one speaks of a spy being at the Headquarters & when I asked the name, he said Gen. Danilov [one of Russia’s most talented generals].… Try & have an eye upon the man & his doings.”

Defeats at the front compelled him to look for scapegoats, and he found a way: spies. Spy mania began—a spy hunt. At first they wanted to make Jews into spies. A field court-martial in Dvinsk hung several for espionage. Subsequently it turned out that they were innocent and were posthumously vindicated, but by that time Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich had already hatched a different plan: the commander-in-chief decided to go hunting for much bigger game.

So arose the famous affair of the German spy Colonel Myasoedov. With the help of Myasoedov’s testimonies, Nikolasha got his main enemy, War Minister Vladimir Sukhomlinov. In June Sukhomlinov resigned from his ministerial post. From Sukhomlinov a thread stretched, via his wife, to “our Friend.” And that meant to Alix. The “German spy”—what could be simpler!

Alix decided to show that she too was taking part in this universal occupation of spy catching. She found her own: Quartermaster General Danilov, one of the most talented and evil-tongued generals at Headquarters, and her “Friend’s” natural enemy.

She: “June 15th 1915.… I am eagerly awaiting your promised letter.… I went to Mavra for an hour [the wife of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstaninovich, K.R.], she is calm & brave—Tatiana [K.R.’s daughter] looks awful & yet thinner & greener.”

In early June, K.R. passed away at his palace in Pavlovsk. Not long before, the youngest and most brilliant of his sons, Oleg, had been mortally wounded at the front during an attack. K.R. himself had shut the young man’s eyes. The death of his favorite son had hastened K.R.’s own end. The poet was the last Romanov to be buried with ceremony in the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul.

She: “June 16th 1915.… Your sweet smelling jasmine I put in my gospel—it reminded me of Peterhof.… The afternoon I remained on the balkony—I wanted to go to Church in the evening, but felt too tired. The heart is, oh, so heavy & sad—I always remember what our Friend says & how often we do not enough heed His words. He was so much against yr. going to the Headquarters, because people there get round you & make you do things, wh. would have been better not done.… When He says not to do a thing & one does not listen, one sees ones fault always afterwards.… That can mean no good. He [Nikolasha] grudges no doubt Gr[igory]’s visits to our house & therefore wants you away from him, at the Headquarters. If they only knew how they harm instead of helping you, blind people with their hatred against Gr.! You remember dans Les amis de Dieu it says a country cannot be lost whose Sovereign is guided by a man of God’s. Oh let him guide you more.”

He: “16 June, 1915. My beloved Sunny, I thank you with all my heart for your sweet, long letter.… With regard to Danilov, I think that the idea of his being a spy is not worth an empty eggshell.”

She: “June 17th 1915. My very own darling,… Wify ought to send you bright & cheery letters, but its difficult, as am feeling more than lowspirited & depressed these days—so many things worry me. Now the Duma is to come together in August, & our Friend begged you several times to do it as late as possible.… Here they will try to mix in & speak about things that do not concern them. Never forget that you are & must remain an authocratic Emperor—we are not ready for a constitutional government. N[ikolasha]’s faults & Wittes it was that the Duma exists, & it has caused you more worry than joy.… Forgive my writing all this, but I feel so utterly miserable, & as tho’ all were giving you wrong advises & profitting of your kindness. Hang the Headquarters.… You are remaining still long away, Gr. begged not—once all goes against his wishes my heart bleeds in anguish & fright;—Oh, to keep & protect you fr. more worries & miserys, one has enough more than the heart can bear.”

She had already received news: Nikolasha was planning to bring charges against Rasputin. Good Nicky might not understand, he might believe him!

Meanwhile, the spy business had already reached Rasputin’s vicinity. Was he really a German spy? Of course not. He served the family loyally. But he had a problem: Alix kept demanding new predictions, and he could not err. Therefore Rasputin put together his own think tank in his apartment on Gorokhovskaya: sharp operators and industrialists—“smart men.” He was sharing military information with them that came from the tsar, which he discussed with them, whereupon the cunning man grasped what his next prophecy should be. Of course, since one of those “smart men” could have represented German intelligence on Gorokhovskaya, proof was evidently not impossible to find. But the commander-in-chief took the usual route: instead of patiently preparing an espionage case, he bit at what the Holy Devil had held out to him—the scandal at the Yar restaurant—and fell into Rasputin’s trap. Familiar with the peripeteiae of the Moscow scandal, the commander of the Gendarme Corps, Dzhunkovsky, prepared a report on Grigory’s escapades, which Nikolasha rushed out.

She: “June 22nd.… My enemy Dzhunkovsky … has shown that vile, filthy paper (against our Friend) to Dmitri who repeated all to Paul.… Such a sin; & as tho’ you had said to him, that you have had enough of these dirty stories & wish him to be severely punished.… You see how he turns your words & orders round—the slanderers were to be punished & not he [Rasputin]—& that at Headquarters one wants him to be got rid of (this I believe)—ah, its so vile.… If we let our Friend be persecuted we & our country shall suffer for it.… Ah, my Love, when at last will you thump with your hand upon the table & scream at Dzhu[n]kovsky & others?… One does not fear you … they must be frightened of you.… If Dzhunkovsky is with you, call him, tell him you know … he has shown that paper in town & that you order him to tear it up & not to dare speak of Gregory as he does & that he acts as a traitor & not a devoted subject, who ought to stand up for the Friends of his Sovereign, as one does in every other country. Oh my Boy, make one tremble before you.… You are always too kind & all profit. It cannot go on like that.”

Indeed, the commander-in-chief made a long report to the tsar. Big, ferocious Nikolasha shouted in the red-hot heat of his train car. At first all his accusations were quite familiar to the tsar: Rasputin’s debauchery and so on.

But then the commander-in-chief’s speech became frightening: German agents had access to Rasputin’s home, everything being done at Headquarters was becoming known in the Gorokhovskaya apartment through the trusting empress—and then….

“I never knew about any of this.… I could never even have imagined”—was all the distraught tsar could say. Then Nikolasha proposed bringing Alexandra Feodorovna to Headquarters to show her the report and put an end to the Friend. “Resolve the matter within the family”—here at Headquarters!

Nicholas agreed. Right now he wanted only one thing: to escape from this train and go home, to Tsarskoe Selo. He was already beginning to fear that they might simply not let him go. En route, calmer, he understood that all this was emotion and conjecture, that there was no real proof of treason. All that remained were stories about their Friend’s dissipation.

When she found out the whole story of what had happened at Headquarters, she fell into a febrile delirium and kept begging to let her keep Baby and not shut her up in a monastery. What did Alix’s cry not to shut her up in a monastery mean? “Is the Sovereign indeed powerless to shut up in a monastery the woman who is ruining him and Russia, the evil genius of the Russian people and the Romanov dynasty?” That is what the monarchist Purishkevich would write in his diary a year later (so this was not merely the fruit of Alix’s sick imagination).

Evidently, Nicholas had received an important report at Tsarskoe Selo. More than likely Rasputin collected the information; he had direct links to the secret police. As Alix would later write: “If [the tsar] had not taken N. N.’s place, he would have been dashed from the throne.” The report told Nicholas that there was in fact a plot.

Was this all Rasputin’s idea? Alexandra Feodorovna’s idée fixe?

Or, indeed, had the camarilla, sensing as in 1905 impending catastrophe, decided to replace Nicholas with Nikolasha again?

The diary of Grand Duke Andrei Vladimirovich, looking back on events of the previous years, includes this note for December 29, 1916: “Then Dehn [the tsaritsa’s friend Lili Dehn] conveyed the portion of her conversation with Alix that had to do with Nikolasha. Alix had assured Dehn that she had documents in her hands proving that Nikolasha wanted to sit on the throne. That was why he had to be removed.”

It was clear to the tsar that this time at Headquarters things would come to no good. The commander-in-chief would demand that Rasputin be removed, which would kill Alix. Perhaps even the harshest measures for Alix herself, knowing that Nicholas would never consent to that. He would fall into a trap, though: they would not let him leave Headquarters, and he would be left with no choice but to abdicate. This secretive man did not want to insult Nikolasha with his suspicions. He simply announced to the ministers: “At this critical moment, the country’s supreme leader must stand at the army’s head.” This decision seemed insane to everyone. He had no other solution, though. Soon after, rumors circulated in Petrograd that the tsar had deposed Nikolasha and made himself commander-in-chief. This was a shock. Nicholas Nikolaevich had authority; the weak tsar was not any more popular in the army than in society at large, but even in the army there were rumors about the German tsaritsa, about her dealings with the enemy, about the dirty holy man.

His mother realized that Nicholas’s actions were a catastrophe.

Little K.’s gentle friend Grand Duke Andrei Vladimirovich wrote in his diary on August 24, 1915:

“This afternoon I was at Aunt Minnie’s [Empress-Mother Marie Feodorovna] and found her terribly despondent.… She believes that the removal of N[icholas] N[ikolaevich] will lead to N[icholas II]’s inevitable ruin.… She kept asking, Where are we going? ‘Where are we going? It isn’t Nicky, he is … he is sweet, and honest, and good—it’s all her doing.… She alone is responsible for all that is going on. It was not my dear boy who did this!’

“When Mama went to see her, she added as well that she was reminded of the times of Emperor Paul I, who in his last year began removing everyone loyal, and our great-great-grandfather’s sad end haunts her in all its horror.… Not once in history since the times of Peter I has a tsar himself stood at the head of his armies. All such attempts, both under Alexander I in 1812, and under Alexander II, have yielded instead a sorry result.”

Nicholas left for Headquarters. This was the most difficult departure for him. He had to announce his decision to the commander-in-chief, the enormous Nikolasha, before whom he was unwillingly shy, in his red-hot train car.

On the train, a letter awaited him as always:

She: “Aug. 22nd 1915.… Never have they seen such firmness in you before … proving yourself the Autocrat without wh. Russia cannot exist.… Forgive me, I beseech you, my Angel, for having left you no peace … but I too well know yr. marvelously gentle character.… I have suffered so terribly, & phisically overtired myself these 2 days, & morally worried (& worry still till all is done at the Headquarters & Nikolasha goes) only then shall I feel calm.… You see they are afraid of me & so come to you when alone—they know I have a will of my own when I feel I am in the right—& you are now—we know this, so you make them tremble before your courage & will. God is with you & our Friend for you.… His holy angels guard & guide you.… I am near & with you for ever & ever & none shall separate us.”

Nikolasha understood immediately: the game was lost. The former commander-in-chief conducted himself impeccably.

He: “25 August, 1915.… Thank God it is all over, and here I am with this new responsibility on my shoulders! But God’s will be fulfilled.… The whole morning of that memorable day, Aug. 23, while coming here, I prayed much and read your first letter over and over again. The nearer the moment of our meeting, the greater the peace that reigned in my heart. N[ikolasha] came in with a kind, brave smile, and asked simply when I would order him to go. I answered in the same manner that he could remain for two days; then we discussed the questions connected with military operations, some of the generals, and so forth, and that was all. The following day at lunch and dinner he was very talkative and in a very good mood, such as we have not seen him in for many months.… The expression on his adjutant’s face was of the gloomiest—it was quite amusing.”

——

Thus Nicholas II became commander-in-chief of a retreating army.

From that moment on, with all her energy, with all her passion, her invincible, hysterical will, Alix began to help him lead the country and the army.

She: “Aug. 30th 1915. My own beloved darling.… [Duma member] Guchkov ought to be got rid of, only how is the question, war-time—is there nothing one can hook on to have him shut up? He hunts after anarchy & against our dynasty, wh. our Friend said God would protect.”

At that time vile drawings, shameful conversations about the commander-in-chief’s wife and about the country’s ruler became commonplace.

She: “Botkin told me that a certain Gorodinsky (Anna’s friend) overheard a conversation on a train between two gentlemen saying nasty things about me. He slapped them both.”

He: “31 August, 1915.… How grateful I am to you for your dear letters! In my loneliness they are my only consolation, and I look forward to them with impatience.… Now a few words about the military situation—it looks threatening in the direction of Dvinsk and Vilna, grave in the centre towards Baranovitchi, and good in the South.… The gravity lies in the terribly weak condition of our regiments, which consist of less than a quarter of their normal strength; it is impossible to reinforce them in less than a month’s time, as the new recruits will not be ready, and, moreover, there are very few rifles.… We cannot rely on our worn-out railway lines, as in former times. This concentration will only be accomplished towards the 10th or 12th of September.… For this reason I cannot decide to come home before the dates indicated.… Your charming flowers, which you gave me in the train, are still standing on my table before me—they have only faded a little.”

She: “Sept. 4th 1915. My own beloved darling.… Why don’t we have a telephone run from your room to mine, as Nikolasha and Stana do. It would be fantastic & you could tell me good news or discuss a question.… We would try not to pester you, since I know you do not like to talk—but this would be for our exclusive, private conversation, & we would be able to speak without concern that someone was listening in. This could be useful in an extreme instance, to say nothing of how comforting it would be to hear your tender voice!

“Sept. 7th 1915.… Cold, windy, & rainy.… I have read through the newspapers—nothing written that we left Vilna—again very mixed, success, bad luck….

“Sept. 9th.… only don’t send Dmitri, he is too young & it makes him conceited—wish you could send him off! Only don’t say its I who ask this.”

She either loved or hated. Whichever it was, it was total.

“Sept. 11th 1915. Sad to think summer is over & endless winter awaits us soon.… Is it true that they intend to send Guchkov & some others from Moscou as deputation to you? A railway accident in wh. he alone wld. suffer wld. be a real punishment fr. God.… Show yr. fist … be the master & lord; you are the Autocrat & they dare not forget it, when they do, as now, woe into them.… I fear Misha [Nicholas’s brother] will ask for his wife to get a title—she cant—she left two husbands already….

“Sept. 13th 1915.… The leaves are turning very yellow and red, I see it from the windows of my big room—Sweetheart, you never give me an answer about Dmitri, why you dont send him back to his regiment.… It does not look well, no Granddukes are out, only Boris from time to time, the poor Constantins boys always ill.”

He: “14 September, 1915.… The weather continues to be lovely. I go out every day in a car with Misha, and we spend a great part of my leisure together, as in former years. He is so calm and cheery—he sends you his very heartiest greetings.”

How he wished there were peace in the family.

She: “Sept. 15th 1915.… Remember to keep the Image in yr. hand again & several times to comb yr. hair with this comb before the sitting of the ministers. Oh how I shall think of you & pray for you more than ever then, Beloved One.… I find [Nikolasha] is taking far too big a suite.… its not good coming [to the Caucasus, where the former commander-in-chief had been appointed governor-general] with such a court & clique & I very much dread that they will try to continue making messes,—God grant only that nothing shld. succeed in the Caucasus, & the people show their devotion to you & allow no playing of a grand part.”

Again the tsar left Tsarskoe Selo, but this time she sent their son with him.

She: “Oct. 1st 1915.… Well there we are again separated—but I hope it will be easier for you whilst Sunbeam is near you—he will bring life into your house & cheer you up. How happy he was to go, with what excitement he has been awaiting this great moment to travel with you alone….

“Oct. 2th 1915.… Goodmorning, my precious ones, how did you sleep, I wonder!… Oh, how I miss you both! The hour for his prayers … please ask whether he remembers them daily.—What will it be to you when I fetch him!… It seems to me as tho’ you were already gone ages ago, such yearning after you!”

He: “Mogilev. 6 October, 1915. My warmest thanks for your loving letter; I am in despair at not having written once since we left, but really, I am occupied here every minute from 2.30 to 6. And Little One’s presence takes up part of my time, too, for which, of course, I am not sorry.… It is very cosy to sleep side by side. I say prayers with him every night since the time we were on the train; he says his prayers too fast, and it is difficult to stop him. He was tremendously pleased with the review; he followed me, and stood the whole time while the troops were marching past, which was splendid. Before the evening we go out in a car … either into the wood or on the bank of the river, where we light a fire and I walk about nearby.… He sleeps well, as I do, in spite of the bright light of his [icon lamp]. He wakes up early in the mornings between 7–8, sits up in bed and begins to talk quietly to me. I answer him drowsily, he settles down and lies quietly until I am called.”

Later they returned to Tsarskoe Selo, only to leave together again. He had come to enjoy taking the boy along to Headquarters.

He: “2 November, 1915. When we arrived here by train in the evening, Baby played the fool, pretended to fall off his chair, and hurt his left arm.… Yesterday he spent in bed. I explained to every one that he had simply slept badly, and myself as well.”

The boy’s illness remained a state secret. This was ruinous, for they still could not explain to the country what Rasputin was doing in the palace.

She: “Nov. 5th 1915.… How charming Alexei’s photographs are.… Fredericks asked my opinion, whether to permit that cinema of Baby and Joy [his setter] … to be shown in public.… Baby told Mr. Gilliard, that it was silly to see him … and that the dog looked cleverer than he—I like that.”

He: “31 December, 1915.… My warmest thanks for all your love.… If you only knew how it supports me and how it rewards me for my work, responsibilities and anxieties, and so forth? Indeed, I do not know how I could have endured it all, if God had not decreed to give you to me as a wife and friend! I speak in earnest. At times it is difficult to speak of such truths, and it is easier for me to put it down on paper—owing to stupid shyness.”

She: “Dec 31st 1915. My own Sweetheart, This is the last time writing to you in the year 1915.… I don’t know how we shall meet the new Year—I likes being in Church—it bores the children.… And yr. rooms without our Sunbeam, poor angel!”

Thus began 1916, the last full year of their reign. Alexei spent New Year’s at home, at Tsarskoe Selo.

She: “Jan. 4th 1916.… Baby seriously writes his diary, only it so funny about it,—as little time in the evening,… writes in the afternoon about dinner.—Yesterday as a treat he remained long with me, drew, wrote and played on my bed—and I longed for you to be with us.”

I am leafing through the first diary of the heir to the Russian throne. An heir who never did become tsar. It is “The Book of Souvenirs for 1916”—a yellow silk cover, gold edging, and on the back an inscription by the empress: “The first diary of my little Alexei.”

Alexei’s first entries are written in large, comical letters, almost scribbles. He was already eleven. Because he was always sick, he had gotten a late start on his studies.

“January 1. Got up late today. Tea at 10. Then went to see Mama. Mama doesn’t feel good and so she lied all day. Stayed home with a cold. Had lunch with Olga, Tatiana, Marie, and Anastasia. In the afternoon was at Kolya’s [Dr. Derevenko’s son, Alexei’s best friend] and played there. It was a lot of fun. Had dinner at 6, then played. With Mama at dinner at 8. In bed at 10.”

And so on—faceless narration, a precise reflection of his father’s diary: most important, brevity and no reflection.

“July 8. Bath in the morning. Then a walk and play, before lunch Mama and sister arrived. In the afternoon a ride in the motor. Ran over a dog. Tea with Mama. After dinner in the city garden. Children playing there.”

He did not play with them. He could only watch. Any movement was dangerous for him. The days passed steadily. As usual. Everything for him was “as usual.”

“February 27. Got up as usual. Was at Nizhnyaya Church. We took Communian [sic], then—as usual….

“February 15. Everything as usual. Papa left at 12. Saw him off….

“March 3. Everything as usual….

“April 7. The same. Confession in bed….

“April 8. The same. Communion in bed.”

“The same”—bed, walks, food, prayer, and bed again. The trip to Headquarters was his dream, a fantastic event in his monotonous life, in his “as usual.”

She: “Jan. 28th 1916.… Once more the train is carrying my Treasure away, but I hope not for long—I know I ought not to say this, & for an old married woman it may seem ridiculous—but cannot help it.—With the years love increases.… It was so nice you read to us & I hear your dear voice now always!… Oh, could but our children be equally blessed in their married lives.… Oh, the lonely night!…

“March 5th 1916.… I had a collection of English [books] brought me to-day, but I fear there is nothing very interesting amongst them. No great authors already since a long time & in no other country either, nor celebrated artist, or composer—a strange lack. One lives too quickly, impressions follow in rapid succession—machinery & money rule the world & crush all art; & those who think themselves gifted have ill minds.—I do wonder what will be after this great war is over. Will there be a reawakening and new birth in all—shall once more ideals exist, will people be more pure & poetic, or will they continue being dry materialists? So many things one longs to know! I had a vile anon. letter yesterday—happily only read 4 first lines & at once tore it up….

“April 6th 1916.… Baby was awfully cheery and gay all day and till he went to bed—in the night he woke up from pain in his left arm and from 2 on scarcely got a moment’s sleep, the girls sat with him a good while. Its too despairing for words and he is already worrying about Easter—standing with candles tomorrow in Church.… It seems he worked with a dirk and must have done too much—he is so strong that its difficult for him always to remember and think that he must not do strong movements.”

In this same letter the tsaritsa wrote about a wounded Jew who was in her hospital. “Tho’ in America, he never forgot Russia & suffered much from homesickness & the moment war broke out he flew here to enlist as soldier to defend his country. Now that he has lost his arm serving in our army, got the St. George’s medal, he longs to remain here & have the right to live wherever he pleases in Russia, a right the Jews don’t possess.… One sees the bitterness, & I grasp it … one ought not to let him become more bitter & feel the cruelty of his old country.”

Thus she complained of her husband’s laws.

He: “7 April, 1916.… I have made a note on the petition of the wounded Jew from America: ‘to be granted universal domicile in Russia.’”

She: “April 8th 1916. Christ has risen! My own sweet Nicky love, On this our engagement day, all my tenderest thoughts are with you.… That dear brooch will be worn today.”

In July 1916 she traveled to see him at Headquarters, where Alexei was staying with him. For the first time she traveled with the entire family—for a few days.

They “relished their vacation,” and again the train carried them back to their beloved Tsarskoe Selo. Once again father and son remained at Headquarters.

He: “13 July.… It is I who ought to thank you, dear, for your coming here with the girls, and for bringing me life and sun in spite of the rainy weather.… Of course I did not succeed in telling you half of what I had intended, because, when I meet you, having been parted for long, I become stupidly shy, and only sit and gaze at you, which is by itself a great joy to me.”

At that time Alix fell into a trap. The case of the spies was dragging on. Along with Sukhomlinov they had already implicated Manusevich-Manuilov, the former agent of the Russian Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the stockbroker Rubinstein, both of whom were close to Rasputin. But this was not the full extent of the situation. Through Rubinstein, Alix had transferred money to her impoverished relatives in Germany unbeknownst to Nicky. How her enemies could twist things! Now she needed a loyal minister of internal affairs who could free them all and finally put an end to this affair, which was so awful for her Friend as well as for her.

“Sept. 7th 1916. My own Sweetheart,… Gregory begs you earnestly to name Protopopov [minister of internal affairs]. You know him & had such a good impression of him—happens to be of the Duma (is not left) & so will know how to be with them.… He likes our Friend since at least 4 years & that says much for a man.”

So a new ruinous name appeared: Protopopov.

She: “Sept. 9th 1916.… Went … to town … to see poor Countess Hendrikov [Gendrikova], who is quite dying—utterly unconscious, but I remembered she had asked me to come when she wld. die.… Nastinka [the countess’s daughter] very brave only cried when I went away.”

A charming lady-in-waiting, Nastenka Gendrikova was devoted to the empress. Only a few months later, when they were deciding who was to accompany the family into exile, Nastenka would be among the first to answer the call.

He: “9 September, 1916. Headquarters.… It seems to me that this Protopopov is a good man.… Rodzianko has for a long time suggested him for the post of Minister of Trade.… I must consider the question, as it has taken me completely by surprise. Our Friend’s opinions of people are sometimes very strange, as you know yourself—therefore one must be careful, especially with appointments to high offices.… This must be thought out very carefully.… All these changes make my head go round. In my opinion, they are too frequent. In any case, they are not good for the internal situation of the country, as each new man brings with him alterations in the administration. I am very sorry that my letter has turned out to be so dull.”

This ministerial leapfrog continued throughout 1916—until the empire’s collapse. Goremykin, Sturmer, Trepov, and Golitsyn succeeded one another at the head of the government.

He was looking for a figure who could reconcile him and the Duma. He did not want to admit that finding such a figure was impossible. What he actually needed was not a new figure but a new principle: a ministry responsible to the Duma. That was what the Duma demanded, but he could not accede. It seemed like a return to the terrible year 1905. Alix was fervently opposed, as was their Friend (who ably echoed his mistress’s opinion, as always).

The figure of Alexander Protopopov seemed felicitous to Nicholas. Only recently Protopopov had emerged at the head of the Duma delegation and had enjoyed great success abroad, and Mikhail Rodzianko, Duma chairman, approved of him. It seemed a name had been found that would reconcile him and the Duma. But once the Duma found out that the tsaritsa and Rasputin approved of him, Protopopov’s fate was decided. He became detested by all.

Nicholas’s fury knew no bounds: he even banged his fist on the table: “Until I appointed him he was fine for them; now he is not because I appointed him.”

She: “Sept. 22nd 1916.… I scarcely slept at all this night—saw every hour, ½ hour … on the watch (don’t know why, as had spent a lovely, soothing evening).… We spoke [with Protopopov] for 1½ hour … very clever, coaxing, beautiful manners, speaks also very good French & English.… I spoke very frankly to him, how yr. orders are constantly not fulfilled, put aside, how difficult to believe people.… I am no longer the slightest bit shy or afraid of the ministers and speak like a waterfall in Russia!!! And they kindly don’t laugh at my faults. They see I am energetic & tell all to you I hear & see & that I am yr. wall in the rear … eyes & ears….

“Sept. 26th.… There—you will say—a big sheet, means she is going to chatter a lot again!—Well, Protopopov dined with A[nya]—she knows him already a year or two.… Protopopov has asked to see—wont you tell him to let Sukhomlinov out.… Protopopov quite agrees with the way our Fr[iend] looks upon this question. He will tell of Justice, write this down to remember when you see him and also speak to him about Rubinstein to have him quietly sent to Siberia.… Prot[opopov] thinks it was Guchkov, who must have egged on the military to catch the man, hoping to find evidences against our Friend. Certainly he had ugly money affairs—but not he alone.”

In October 1916, Protopopov was called before a meeting of influential Duma members. A stenographic record was made of the meeting:

“ ‘We do not want to talk with you, a man who received his appointment through Rasputin and freed the traitor Sukhomlinov.’

“ ‘I am the personal candidate of the sovereign, whom I now have come to know better and to love,’ Protopopov responded, exaltedly. ‘All of you have titles, good positions, connections, but I began my career as a modest student giving lessons for fifty kopeks, I have nothing besides the personal support of the sovereign.’”

But this time all of society had united in their hatred for the new minister. The Duma and Russia had been shaken by the speeches of the great Duma orators. Pavel Milyukov, for instance, the leader of the Cadets (Constitutional Democrats), spoke from the Duma rostrum:

“From one end of the country to the other, dark rumors have been spreading about betrayal and treason. These rumors have reached high and spared no one. The name of the empress comes up more and more often along with the names of the adventurists that surround her. What is this—stupidity or treason?”

Milyukov wanted to prove that all this was the government’s stupidity, but the country kept repeating: “Treason!”

“The rumors of treason played a fateful role in the army’s attitude toward the dynasty,” wrote General A. Denikin, the tsarist general who took command of the White forces in the south of Russia after General Kornilov’s death.

“More than once I had a horrible thought about the empress plotting with Wilhelm,” Grand Duke Kirill Vladimirovich would say after the revolution in an interview for a Petrograd newspaper.

She: “Sept. 28th 1916.… What a joy to meet soon—in 5 days!!! Seems incredible. Eating in the fresh air is very healthful for Baby & shall bring 2 camp chairs and folding table for him—then I can sit outside too. We plan to leave Sunday at 3 to be in Mogilev for tea—at 5 on Monday. Alright? After your walk, then I can lie down a while longer,”

She: “Oct. 12th 1916.… Its with a very heavy heart I leave you again—I hate these goodbies.… You are so lonely amongst this crowd—so little warmth around. How I wish you cld. have come for 2 days only, just to have got our Friend’s blessing, it would have given you new strength—I know you are brave & patient—but human—& a touch of His on your chest would have soothed much pain & given you new wisdom & energy from Above—these are no idle words—but my firm conviction.… I too well know & believe in the peace our Friend can give & you are tired, morally, you cannot deceive old wify!”

“MY POOR FRIEND”

She was right. He was exhausted.

She: “Nov. 1st 1916. My own beloved treasure.… So Olga will marry on Saturday—& where will that be?”

This was yet another scandal in the family: after her divorce from Peter of Oldenburg, the tsar’s sister Olga married Nikolai Alexandrovich Kulikovsky, a cavalry captain in the Cuirassier Regiment, whose colonel-in-chief was the empress dowager.

Converging on Kiev for the wedding, the large Romanov family closed ranks—the situation in the country was disastrous. The family saw one way out: Nicholas must yield to the Duma’s demands and give it the right to appoint ministers. Such an action would free the government from the pernicious influence of Alix and Rasputin and good Nicky from responsibility at this critical moment. And of course, it would mean the immediate removal of the Holy Devil. A family council decided to send Grand Duke Nicholas Mikhailovich, the historian Nicholas Romanov, to see Nicky.

He: “2 November.… My precious. Nicolai M. has come for one day; we had a long talk together last night, of which I will tell you in my next letter.—I am too busy to-day. God preserve you, my dearly beloved Sunny, and children.… Eternally your old Nicky.”

He was being cunning. He simply did not know how to tell her about this conversation. So he decided to send her the letter the family’s emissary had given him:

“You have told me many times that you can trust no one, that you are being deceived. If this is so, the same phenomenon must also hold true for your spouse, who loves you ardently but has been led astray thanks to the malicious and utter deception of the people who surround her. You trust Alexandra Feodorovna, which is understandable, but what comes out of her mouth is the result of clever juggling and not the actual truth. If you are not competent to remove this influence from her, then at least guard against those constant interferences and whisperings through your beloved spouse.… I have long hesitated to reveal the whole truth, but after your mother and sisters convinced me to do this, I made my decision. You are on the eve of an era of new upheavals—even more, I would say an era of assassination attempts. Believe me: if I urge you thus to free yourself from the chains that have been forged … then it is only out of my hope and desire to save you, your throne, and our dear homeland from the most difficult and irreparable consequences.”

In conclusion, Nicholas Mikhailovich suggested that the tsar grant “the much desired ministry responsible to the Duma and do so before outside pressure is brought to bear,” that is, not in the way the memorable act of October 17, 1905, had come about.

They were threatening him with a new revolution. And reminding him of the last.

She: “Nov. 4th.… I read Nikolai’s & am utterly disgusted. Had you stopped him in the midle of his talk & told him that, if he only once more touched that subject or me, you will send him to Siberia—as it becomes next to high treason. He has always hated & spoken badly of me since 22 years.… But during war & at such a time to crawl behind yr. Mama & Sisters & not stick up bravely … for his Emperor’s wife—is loathesome & treachery.… You, my Love, far too good & kind & soft—such a man needs to be held in awe of you—He & Nikolasha are my greatest enemies in the family, not counting the Montenegrin women—& Sergei.… Wife is your staunch One & stands as a rock behind you.”

Postscript:

“… I dreamt I was being operated on: th’ my arm was cut off I felt utterly no pain. After a letter came from Nikolai.”

Now she began her struggle against the entire Romanov family. She remained intact.

He: “5 November.… I am so sorry that I have upset you and made you angry by sending the two letters of N., but as I am in a constant hurry I had not read them, because he had spoken exhaustively of the matter for a long time. But he never once mentioned you, discussing only the stories about spies, factories, workmen, disorders, Ministers, and the general internal situation. Had he said anything about you, you do not really doubt that your dear hubby would have taken your part!”

She: “Nov. 12th 1916.… I am but a woman fighting for her Master & Child, her two dearest ones on earth—& God will help me being your guardian angel, only dont pull the sticks away upon wh. I have found it possible to rest [i.e., Rasputin and Protopopov].… What joy to rest to-morrow in your arms to kiss & bless you.… True unto death.”

Postscript:

“Darling, remember that it does not lie in the man Protopopov or x.y.z., but its the question of monarchy & yr. prestige.… Dont think they will stop at him, but they will make all others leave who are devoted to you one by one—then ourselves. Remember, last year yr. leaving to the Army—when also you were alone with us two [her and Rasputin] against everybody, who promised revolution if you went. You stood up against all & God blessed your decision.”

She: “Dec. 4th 1916.… Show to all, that you are the Master & your will shall be obeyed—the time of great indulgence & gentleness is over—now comes your reign of will & power, & obedience they must be taught.… Why do people hate me? Because they know I have a strong will & when am convinced of a thing being right (when besides blessed by Gregory), do not change my mind & that they can’t bear.… Remember Mr. Philipps [the charlatan mystic Monsieur Philippe from France] words when he gave me the image with the bell. As you were so kind, trusting & gentle, I was to be yr. bell, those that came with wrong intentions wld. not be able to approach me & I wld. warn you. Should Motherdear write, remember the Michels [the Mikhailovich brothers] are behind her.—Don’t heed & take to heart—thank God she is not here, but kind people find means of writing & doing harm.”

The bell rang and rang.… And then the family played its trump: her sister Ella went to Tsarskoe Selo and attempted to explain to her beloved Alix as kindly as possible the horror of the situation, by which she meant Rasputin. But Alix immediately shut her out and cut the conversation short.

Alix saw her sister off at the train, but they parted in silence. Ella would never reappear at Tsarskoe Selo. They would not see each other again.

He: “10 December, 1916.… Things do not look too bright in Roumania.… In the Dobrudja our troops had to retire to the very Danube.… By the 15th of Dec. the concentration of our forces will, I hope, [be] more or less accomplished and perhaps toward Christmas we shall begin our offensive. As you see, the position there is not a happy one.”

What was the extent of his participation in the war? An ignorant, weak-willed executor of the wishes of his hysterical wife and Rasputin—that was the answer given by the coming revolution.

But here is another widely known opinion. Winston Churchill wrote about it in World Crisis: “Surely to no nation has Fate been more malignant than to Russia. Her ship went down in sight of port.… Every sacrifice had been made; the toil was achieved.… The long retreats were ended; the munition famine was broken; arms were pouring in; stronger, larger, better equipped armies guarded the immense front.… Alexeiff directed the Army and Kolchak the Fleet. Moreover, no difficult action was now required: to remain in presence: to lean with heavy weight upon the far stretched Teutonic line: to hold without exceptional activity the weakened hostile forces on her front: in a word to endure—that was all that stood between Russia and the fruits of general victory….

“The brunt of supreme decisions centred upon him. At the summit where all problems are reduced to Yea and Nay, where events transcend the faculties of men and where all is inscrutable, he had to give the answers. His was the function of the compass needle. War or no war? Advance or retreat? Right or left? Democratise or hold firm? Quit or persevere? These were the battlefields of Nicholas II. Why should he reap no honor for them?… In spite of errors vast and terrible, the regime he personified, over which he presided, to which his personal character gave the final spark, had at this moment won the war for Russia.”

He: “I am so glad that you were pleased with Novgorod.… You saw more there than I did in 1904.”

In Novgorod Alix had been to see the famous prophetess, the holy woman Maria Mikhailovna, who lived in the Desyatinna Convent. He hoped her trip would divert her indomitable energy into a new channel, so he could pause for breath.

Subsequently Alix would repeat the legend: Maria Mikhailovna was lying in the darkness when Alix appeared. Then the holy woman suddenly rose up on her bed, climbed down to the floor, and bowed to the ground before the empress. And she said: “You, beautiful lady, shall know suffering.” But what was the point of legends if Alix herself described the meeting?

She: “She lay in bed in a small dark room, so they brought a candle for us to see each other. She is 107, weares irons … generally always works, goes about, sews for the convicts & soldiers, without spectacles—never washes. And of course, no smell, or feeling of dirt, scraggy grey hair standing out, a sweet fine, oval face with lovely young, shining eyes & sweet smile. She blessed us & kissed us.… To me she said: And you the beautiful one—dont fear the heavy cross’ (several times)—has grey hair and a sweet, delicate, oval face—‘for your coming to visit us, two churches will be built in Russia.’ … Said not to worry about the children, will marry, & could not hear the rest.”

Or maybe poor Alix didn’t understand what marriage she was talking about. Old-style Russian was hard for the Hessian princess. Her friend Anya preferred “not to hear” it either. The holy woman was speaking of Alix’s daughters’ being wed to death.

He: “3 December, 1916.… Endless thanks for your long interesting letter with the many details of your trip to Novgorod.… Well now, about Trepov [in 1916 Alexander Feodorovich Trepov was appointed prime minister]. He was quiet and submissive and did not touch upon the name of Protopopov.… He unfolded his plan concerning the Duma—to prorogue it on the 17th of December and reassemble it on the 19th of January so as to show them and the whole country that, in spite of all they have said, the Government wish to work together.… I went to pray before the ikon of the Mother of God before this conversation, and felt comforted after it.”

She: “Dec. 14th.… Scarcely slept this night again.… Trepov was very wrong in putting off the Duma now & wishing to call it beginning of January again, the result being … nobody goes home & all will remain, fomenting, boiling in Petrograd.… Lovy, our Friend begged you to shut it 14th … & you see, they have time to make trouble.… Be Peter the Great, John [Ivan] the Terrible, Emperor Paul—crush them all under you—now don’t laugh, naughty one—but I long to see you with all those men.… ‘Do not fear,’ the old woman said & therefore I write without fear to my agoo wee one.”

Her constant pressure had kept him on the brink. Now she had gone too far.

He: “14 December, 1916.… Tender thanks for the severe written scolding. I read it with a smile, because you speak to me as though I was a child.”

She: “Dec 15th 1916.… Please, forgive me for my impertinent letters, but writes from deepest love—& sometimes driven to exasperation, knowing one cheets you & proposes wrong things.… Wish the telephone were not so bad.”

He: “16 December, 1916.… No, I am not angry with you for the other, written by you. I perfectly understand your desire to help me! But I cannot change the day for the reassembly of the Duma, because the day is already fixed in the Proclamation.… Tender greetings and kisses sends to you Your ‘poor, weak-willed little hubby.’ ”

Yes, this time he was implacable.

She: “Dec 17th 1916.… Again very cold & gently snowing.… Heart is not famous & don’t feel well. You see my heart for some time was bad again.… The moral strain of these last trying months on a weak heart of course had to tell … the old machine broke down.… Has Baby’s ‘worm’ quite been got rid of? Then he will get fatter & less transparent—the precious Boy!”

The end of her letter was finished in pencil—after she learned of what was for her the most dreadful event possible:

“We are sitting together—you can imagine our feelings—thoughts—our Friend has disappeared. Yesterday A[nya] saw him & he said Felix [Prince Yusupov] asked him to come in the night, a motor wld. fetch him to see Irina.—A motor fetched him (military one) with 2 civilians & went away. This night big scandal at Yousupov’s house—big meeting, Dmitrii [Pavlovich, Nicholas’s cousin], Purishkevich [Vladimir Mitrofanovich Purishkevich, extremely right-wing Duma member], etc all drunk. Police heard shots, Purishkevich ran out screaming to the Police that our Friend was killed. Police searching & Justice entered now into Yusupov’s house—did not dare before as Dmitrii there. Chief of police has sent for Dmitrii. Felix wished to leave to-night for Crimea, [I] begged Protopopov to stop him. Our Friend was in good spirits but nervous these days & for A[nya] too, as Batiushin [the military investigator handling the case of the German spies] wants to catch things against Ania. Felix pretends he never came to the house & never asked him. Seems quite a paw. I still trust in God’s mercy that one has only driven Him off somewhere.… We women are alone with our weak heads. Shall keep her [Anya] to live here—as now they will get at her next. I cannot & wont believe He has been killed. God have mercy. Such utter anguish.… Come quickly—nobody will dare to touch her or do anything when you are here.”

They had been plotting Rasputin’s murder for a long time. The large Romanov family saw it as the sole means of saving the dynasty. And the Holy Devil knew about it. When the clouds had thickened, he made a brilliant move, as always. He composed a will and prophecy, which he showed to the tsaritsa.

The “Spirit of Grigory Rasputin Novykh” promised:

“Russian Tsar!

“… Know, that if your relatives commit murder, then not one of your family, i.e., your relatives and children, will live more than two years.… The Russian people will kill them.… They will kill me. I am no longer among the living. Pray. Pray. Be strong. Worry about your elected family.”

Rasputin transmitted it to the empress through his secretary. Imagine what poor Alix felt! She did not show the letter to Nicholas, but the holy man’s guard was strengthened. The tsaritsa and her daughters themselves went to ask Rasputin not to receive any guests without her knowledge. They locked up his clothing and so on.

But the cunningly artless holy man outwitted the “accursed aristocrats.”

Vera Leonidovna:

“It was a puzzling intrigue in the spirit of my favorite play, Masquerade. Dmitry and Felix dreamed it up. Felix was an old enemy of the holy man. Through Mania Golovin he let it be known he was looking to reconcile with the holy man. It was all done very realistically. The holy man knew that Felix wanted to join the Guards; but the tsar, who did not want homosexuals, opposed it. So through poor, unsuspecting Mania, who was certain she was going to reconcile the holy man and her friend Felix, Felix asked the holy man to put in a word for him with Alix, which Rasputin agreed to do. That fateful evening, Grigory was going to see Felix in his palace for a complete reconciliation. He had been promised wine and dancing, of which he was passionately fond. One day I’ll tell you how marvelously he danced. That evening he had promised to heal Princess Irina.… The legend about the holy man lusting after Irina was created later by the assassins themselves: ‘Grigory’s filthy intentions toward the daughter of Sandro himself.’ All this was supposed to vindicate the assassins. Subsequently there was a legend about how Rasputin had been poisoned with potassium cyanide, but it wasn’t poison that took him. In fact, the person who gave him the poison didn’t want to take a sin on his soul, so he gave him a harmless powder.… When Felix realized the poison wasn’t working, he shot him and Rasputin fell. A second legend arose that Felix killed him and he rose up. In fact, he was only wounded. Felix wasn’t a murderer, and he was nervous. Rasputin was lying motionless on the pelt of a white bear, and Felix was with him in the room. Rasputin evidently came to and hurled himself on Felix to strangle him, bellowing horribly, like a wounded beast. Imagine what Felix must have felt when the ‘corpse’ fell on him! Horrified, Felix froze, and Rasputin was able to flee the cellar for the courtyard. He was killed right by the gate, with a revolver, and evidently not completely, because when they rolled him onto a portière to load him into Grand Duke Dmitry’s automobile he opened his eyes—and none of them ever forgot that inexpressible look. They had tried to kill Rasputin in the half-cellar.”

She (telegram): “Dec. 18th 1916. In your name I order Dmitrii forbidden to leave his house till yr. return. Dmitrii wanted to see me today, but I refused. Mainly he is implicated. The body still not found. When will you come?”

I am leafing through the diaries of the grand duchesses. Olga’s diary: “December 17.… Father Grigory has been missing since last night. They are looking everywhere. It is terribly hard. The four of us slept together. God help us!…

“December 18.… Ania is staying with us, since Mama is afraid for her.… We have finally learned that Father Gregorii was killed, probably by Dmitrii, and thrown from the bridge by Krestovskii. He was found in the water. No words can say how hard it is. We sat and drank tea, and the whole time we felt that Father Gregorii was with us.”

Did Dmitry kill him? This was the end to all her hopes. This is why “No words can say how hard it is.”

He (telegram): “18 Dec, 1916.… I have only just read your letter. Am horrified and shaken. In prayers and thoughts I am with you. Am arriving to-morrow at 5 o’clock.”

——

Was Rasputin’s prediction only a muzhik’s cunning or was it dictated by the Holy Devil’s dark power? Or both? This drunken, insanely debauched muzhik who had trampled the luxurious floors of their palaces truly was a precursor. The precursor of those hundreds of thousands of terrible muzhiks who would trample their palaces and murder them—and throw their corpses, like carrion, without burial, into the warm July earth.

At first Rasputin’s corpse was placed in a crypt at St. Feodor’s Cathedral. Then he was buried secretly—not far from the park and palace, under a chapel that was being built. Right under the altar. He was close by as before.

Nicholas’s diary:

“December 21. Wednesday.… At 9 the whole family went past the photography building and turned right toward the field, where we assisted at a sad scene: the coffin with the body of the unforgettable Grigory, murdered on the night of December 17 by monsters in the home of F. Yusupov, had already been lowered into the grave. Father Alexander Vasiliev finished the eulogy, after which we returned home. The weather was gray with 12 degrees of frost. Walked until reports.… In the afternoon took a walk with the children.”

Nicholas was firm: The decision was made to banish “the monsters Dmitry and Felix” from Petrograd. His wife’s sufferings were not all that forced him to be firm. For a Christian, murder is blasphemous—not only that, the tsar’s own relatives had killed the muzhik! The rest of the Romanov family honored the “monsters.” At the station Felix was seen off by his father-in-law, Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich. How poor Dmitry envied everyone who remained in his beloved Petrograd. How many of his relatives—of those who remained in “beloved Petrograd”—would be killed! Felix and Dmitry, though, the “monsters” banished from the capital, would survive.

For the next few days it was as if Alix had turned to stone. At first she had been violent, shouting “Hang them!,” but later she became ominously calm, almost indifferent. She understood that this was the end. The end that the holy man had predicted. Alix showed Nicky the holy man’s will, and he tried to calm her: Grigory’s behests were being carried out. Trepov, whom the empress (and consequently Grigory) did not like, was being driven out. The decrepit Golitsyn was being appointed prime minister, which for all intents and purposes meant that Protopopov, the holy man’s favorite, was to head the government.

Society rebelled. Endless meetings were held—municipal, district, noble—and all against the new government. While everyone was waiting for the revolution, it had already begun. The holy man was right: it began immediately upon his death!