Chapter VI: Part II: The First World War (2)

When Father was absent for any reason, General Alexeiev was in complete command. All military matters were discussed between them; they worked together congenially. A number of times Father took Alexei with him to inspect the troops of Generals Ivanov and Brussilov and to decorate all those involved in heroic action with crosses. The soldiers were quite impressed with Alexei. In the uniform of a private, he stood proudly beside Father during military reviews. By the erectness of his posture and the tenseness of his expression, it was obvious he felt deeply responsible. They returned to G.H.Q. from the front, which was within the range of German guns. Fortunately the Kaiser did not know this. Father insisted that his food come from the field kitchen--the same that the soldiers had.

My sisters continued working; when they were tired they rested on little stools at a bedside reading, praying for the sick, or writing letters if the patients were unable to do so. Olga was deliberate in her decisions and very exact in all her work. She was responsible and successful in raising a great deal of money by her carefully planned programs of entertainment, which were always carried out successfully. Tatiana who was physically stronger was prone to take the lead in their hospital work. We heard from doctors that she was unusually gifted in this type of work, took everything calmly and systematically and with a clear head. Mother always counted on her to carry out the most pressing work with accuracy, and she never failed.

Mother also used to sit with the sick men for hours and when the officers were returning to the front, Mother was introduced to each as he passed her and gave him a prayer book. Standing next to Mother, Madame Narishkina gave each one a package containing a set of underwear, made out of silk in the “Marie-Anastasia Workshop.” It was to protect them from body lice, mainly at the front.

Alexei, when home, visited the wounded often at our hospital. He enjoyed listening to the men of war speak of their experiences at the front, never tired of hearing stories. Often he told them jokes to make them laugh. He felt indignant when the time came to leave, when the merriment might only have begun.

As to our trips no one knew the date of our departure or return. Count Fredericks, Minister of the Court, made all the arrangements. In the fall we left for an inspection of different military hospitals, stopping on our way in Mogilev. We made our headquarters on the train which stood on the track in a deep forest, some distance from the station. A few days later, Father and Alexei returned home with us. The many dangerous trips to the front, the sight of the wounded in the hospitals, and the feeling of responsibility made a deep impression on Alexei, causing him to be nervous.

While at home, Father had a long talk with Olga, and asked her to see that Mother kept all those hated people out of our house. But Mother, thinking they were helping her, continued to have them. Olga disliked Rasputin, never wanting his name brought up in her presence. When our company mentioned his name she changed the conversation. Once I heard her say to Mother, “Why do you listen to some of these women? Their minds and upbringing are so different from yours. Why do they come to you with all kinds of gossip? In their position, they should not be permitted to interfere with things that do not concern them.”

Mother answered, “But, my dear, every ruler must have contact with the people outside. That is the only way to get at the truth. Granny (Queen Victoria) had confidential informers, and consequently knew everything that was going on.”

Olga replied, “That is all right, Mother, but these people were not constantly in Granny’s company. Especially we like to have a visit with Father when he is home for a short period. You must keep your public and private lives separate.”

These unworthy, capricious people irritated Olga when they became involved in matters about which they knew nothing. Their careless words later ignited a devastating flame. Marie often was reprimanded because of friction with one of them who was a constant friend of Mother’s.

Soon Father and Alexei left for an inspection at the front; they went as far as Chernovitsy, Bukovina, where I spent some time after my escape. Could Father ever have dreamed that a child of his would ask shelter near this battered city? He was also in Warsaw, and described the battle in that area to us. He brought back many pictures, showing, as I recall, on one side of a road thousands of crosses on the graves of Russian soldiers and on the other side the enemy’s graves. We prayed God that our men would be able to defend our country.

My parents visited the Red Cross units and ambulance trains for the evacuation of the wounded village people and went to the field hospitals to say a few encouraging words to the wounded. Mother and we sisters carried envelopes containing writing paper, handkerchiefs, sweets, fruit and other articles for distribution. Father depended on us sisters for these supplies. Ambulance trains were named after us children and the train was met by that person whose name it bore. Often these trains arrived simply packed with the wounded who in some cases were even lying on the floors which were covered with straw and blankets. Frequently infections set in, when flesh was torn and bones were shattered. German bullets usually made a jagged hole, tearing the flesh. Russian bullets made a clean cut. Infections were especially prevalent during springtime when the snow had melted and the trenches were filled with polluted water which made it impossible for the men to lie down. It was difficult to move the wounded along roads cut up by the heavy artillery. Instead muddy fields had to be used for their transportation to the nearest hospital or the train; often the mobile hospital got stuck in the field and the rescue work had to be done in the dark. It was heartbreaking.

Every possible space was used. Even the Catherine Palace in Tsarskoe Selo had to be utilized. Mother also had built many new hospitals with Father’s and her own money; she appointed Madame Zizi Narishkina as the head of the hospitals. Mother also established refugee homes for the unfortunates whose farms were plundered and laid waste by artillery. For the evacuated village people, shelters and orphanages, hospitals and convalescent homes were constructed. She had built about ninety military hospitals from Petrograd down into the Ukraine.

Many men released from the hospital were unable to return to the front. Some of them were sent to farms and trades. Others learned to paint and their pictures were bought and sold at different bazaars; some were taught to weave rugs; others did wood carving; still others took up sculpture, photography, printing or bookkeeping. All this was made possible through the organized efforts of my family.

Grandmother and other members of the Imperial family did the same. She even built camps in Germany to house Russian prisoners of war there. But a Red Cross doctor and a nurse returned from Germany with a report of the terrible conditions, the mistreatment of prisoners, and the lack of heat and sanitation. They said that many wounded were infected with sores and no nurses were permitted to help them. Officers were insulted and beaten, because they refused to give the Germans information as to the situation at the front. One of the Kaiser’s sons was present and saw all these conditions and indignities. Over the Russian prisoners the Germans put Russian Jews, who had run away to avoid serving in the army. The mistreatment of the prisoners was unbelievable.

Through the Red Cross, Mother sent supplies to these camps in Germany including Bibles, books, bandages and other necessities. She also helped to organize camps near the railroad stations in Siberia for German and Austrian prisoners of war; many such prisoners were sent to work on farms. These camps were well regulated as she was eager to demonstrate that Russia could lead in the humane treatment of prisoners. For this she was deeply criticized on the ground that she was saving the lives of our enemy. Maybe later the same men were the killers of her own family.

Often my sisters came with a story of some unusual occurrences. One young patient coming out of anesthesia sang and moved his arms as if conducting an orchestra. When he was told later what he had done and that Mother was present, he apologized, fearing he might have used some vulgar words. Another said that he had received a letter from his girl friend. He kept on repeating all the sweet words only a bride-to-be can write to her fiancé.

We looked forward to the evening when we could snuggle around Mother in her room. Usually there was a letter from Father. These arrived by special messenger and were delivered to Mother by Mother’s ladies in waiting or maids. Mother read parts to us and afterwards seemed more contented. She preferred to open her own personal mail. Mother eyed her other letters with suspicion, turning them over. When she read a line or two, her face grew dark, her eyes flashed anger; she tore them to bits and threw them in the wastebasket. With all the misery in the world, many found time to criticize her and were too cowardly to sign their name. God forgive them for the unpleasant hours they caused Mother, not to mention the injury to our war effort. She said the Germans used the same method of propaganda as did the Japanese in 1905.

Father never allowed us girls to discuss these unpleasant matters. Once when Father was absent, I mimicked one of the suspected trouble-makers. I was promptly reprimanded, then everyone burst out in laughter. My technique worked. The next morning Mother’s eyes were red and swollen. She said she had read late and her eyes hurt. It was obvious to us that she had cried herself to sleep. We four sisters got off a letter to Father begging him to come home for a day or two. Father and Alexei arrived. Now Mother was a new person. She gave all her heart and soul to Father, and Alexei’s entertaining chatter lifted her spirits. Her eyes were no longer red and swollen; instead they glistened. Evenings found the whole family gathered together in Mother’s boudoir. If one had looked in, he would have been impressed by the harmony in that room.

Mother expressed her wish to have a little house, away from everybody, where she could have peace and quiet. We wished so, too. Mother’s and Father’s love for each other would have made a home out of any humble dwelling.

All too soon Father had to leave. Alexei was so diverting, we wished we could keep him home, but the little fellow was too proud of his association with Father even to listen to such a suggestion. Good-byes were hard on Mother, and we often wondered whether we had been wise in asking Father to come from G.H.Q. After he left, Mother prayed daily for his safe return; she was proud of his service to the country.

Almost on the very day of Father’s departure, the anonymous letters began to come in greater numbers. Mother almost dreaded reading the numerous letters because of their venomous content. One of the letters was signed by Princess Vasilchikova. She accused Mother of many things and claimed to be speaking for the women of Petrograd. She suggested that Mother leave Russia and go back to Germany where she had come from. How little she knew that Mother came from the little province of Hesse and had no connection with Prussia. I wondered what this woman thought the Empress’ children would do? Obviously this and other letters were inspired by those who wanted to overthrow the Imperial family and its government in order to gain control of the country, as they eventually did.

Mother even was accused of sitting behind a curtain at the top of the stairway of her maple sitting room which let into Father’s study, listening to all the reports given Father on the progress on the war. These reports she was supposed to transmit to Kaiser Wilhelm. This ridiculous gossip was not only believed by many in Russia but was even circulated in foreign countries. The story was so impossible it hardly needs refuting. To reach the spot, Mother would have had to climb some dozen steps to the top of the balcony room, which she could not have done because of her heart condition. Besides, Mother never was left alone. She always had a personal attendant with her on duty, day and night. In a room next to Mother’s bedchamber, a bell was connected with the maid’s room in which there was a narrow bed and a comfortable armchair; also a small table on which were magazines and books for the maid’s relaxation. The other personnel were dismissed at 11:00 P.M. Most of her help had been with Mother since her marriage; we parted with some, when we left for Tobolsk. Her loyalty to her adopted country was unquestionable and her personal dislike for the Kaiser and his government was almost an obsession with her.

Another rumor, freely circulated, was to the effect that Mother had been visited secretly by the German General Ludendorff. This and many other similar rumors were part of the propaganda to destroy Russia by attacking the heart of the Russian government. Mother was depressed and exhausted as these accusations multiplied. Some of the writers demanded the discharge of all officials with foreign names. This would have meant dismissing people like faithful Trina Schneider whose loyalty was beyond suspicion. In the end she, too, was killed outside of Perm. She had taught both Mother and Aunt Ella the Russian language. Now she served as a reader and a governess to Marie and myself. Some of the people had German names but were Scandinavian; others were descendants of people brought to Russia during the reign of Catherine the Great.

With Father at G.H.Q., there was much he could not follow first hand. Mother felt she must report to him everything that came to her notice. All the praise, criticism, advice, countless suggestions of many individuals were brought to her that she might pass them on to Father. Sometimes these were important messages, sometimes they were petty and trivial in comparison with the momentous questions that confronted the nation. Mother was eager for advice but unfortunately most of the suggestions came from those she had the least reason to trust, persons who were suspected of being the real instigators of the propaganda against her. More and more she felt that most of those who volunteered to advise her were serving their own self-interest.

Reports often brought depressing information: that Father’s orders, his telegrams, were purposely sabotaged, and often were replaced by others. Inefficiency and betrayals were noticeable. Father was frequently imposed upon as a result of his kindness and generosity. Mother said, “He must make his will felt, inspire wholesome fear through firmness and discipline. To inspire love is not enough.” With her own background Mother often wished that Russia had some of the efficiency of the Germans. She thought Russia needed more ingenuity and greater economic independence. She felt the need of more railroads for the transportation of troops and supplies, though one Siberian line had just been completed during the war (in 1915).

Petrograd was full of crosscurrents. One said this, another said that. Mother did not know whom she should believe. In spite of slanders that were heaped on her, she still wanted to find out the truth to pass on to Father. The people were tired, tired of everything, especially of war. Whatever the reason, they were in a careless mood in their attitude toward their country. No one had brought proof to back up their accusations of Anna and Rasputin. These two, in Mother’s opinion, were continually persecuted. Had not Anna given every kopeck of her compensation for injury in a terrible train wreck to establish a hospital for convalescent soldiers so that they might receive training in some trade? The hospital was so successful that before the Revolution hundreds of invalids had been trained and she had purchased the land on which to build an additional building. What greater proof of her loyalty was needed? Could anyone know better than Mother the power of Rasputin’s prayers? Had she not witnessed his miracle on Alexei? Now all she wanted for Father was divine guidance to see things straight and to bring Russia safely through this ordeal. Had not Rasputin used his foreknowledge which made him see what others could not? He had foretold several events which later came true. Once he predicted that our death would follow his death and that in the event of a member of the family surviving, he or she would meet with disaster in 1960.

Another accusation was that Mother was hiding Uncle Ernest in the palace. Uncle Ernie had been in Russia with his family in 1912. It was at the new palace in the Crimea. That was the last time he visited Russia. During the war, the Kaiser made it so disagreeable for Uncle Ernest that, in 1918, he abdicated. He and his father had worked so hard to make their country economically sound. We had a few letters from Aunt Victoria, Mother’s sister in England. Prince Louis of Battenberg, her husband, was the First Sea Lord of the British Admiralty. Pressure was brought against him also during the war hysteria so that he was forced to resign his commission, in spite of his loyalty to his adopted country, Great Britain.

When the war broke out, the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich and his wife were in Germany. They were subjected to considerable mistreatment so that, a year after, he died. Father was furious when he received the report of the abuses from the Grand Duke himself. Grandmother also was passing through Germany at the outbreak of the war, and she, too, was subjected to the same indignities. The death of the Grand Duke Constantine was a great loss, not only to the family, but to all Russia. The Grand Duke was a most brilliant scholar, poet and patron of music and drama. He wrote plays, essays, poems, using a pseudonym. He translated _Hamlet_ into Russian. He wrote a play entitled _King of Judea_. It was a magnificent production, in which he took part. Even when his health was failing, he continued to promote the arts. The last production in which I saw him on the stage was _Hamlet_. He played the leading role of the Danish Prince himself. Some of his children had parts in it. During the last performance my family was present. Alexei sat with Mother in the front row and excitedly called out, “Mother, Mother, do you know that is Uncle Constantine! And that _there_ is an officer of the Guards?” Uncle Constantine sponsored a number of young people in music and drama. He had a theatre of his own and designed his own stage settings.

He was deeply religious and brought up his family in the best Christian tradition. Despite his good life he suffered great misfortune. Shortly before he died, his son-in-law was killed in the war. Earlier, one of his sons, Prince Oleg, had been a battle casualty. While the Germans were retreating Oleg followed them on his horse when a wounded German officer played dead and shot him; he soon died in the hospital. The names of his children were all taken from early history. During the revolution, three more sons were brutally murdered, together with Aunt Ella, near Alapaevsk.

I remember Aunt Mavra, Constantine’s wife, and one of her daughters having tea with us for the last time, shortly before the revolution. Always deeply religious, they crossed themselves for safe driving before they entered their car. Whoever could have known that we would never see one another again? Still Aunt Mavra lived through all the tragedy that befell her innocent family.

Mother seldom came to the dinner table these days. She was served in one of her rooms and we joined her after the meal. At that time Father’s letters were read and reread. Usually there was a clever one from Alexei, too. His note was always so cheering to Mother that we hoped she could retain the mood till bedtime. To break the monotony, I planned on entertaining them, even though it made me feel sad rather than lighthearted, but, once I started, everybody began to laugh and we were soon all in the midst of great merriment.

Watching Mother carefully, when she looked troubled, I sprang a new joke or some lighthearted remark to cheer her up again. In this self-appointed task I had a helper. I found a book of funny stories, which I kept in one of the drawers in the round table in the music room, and in privacy I delved through it. It contained many jokes which I did not understand, but, believing they must be funny, I put my own interpretation upon these and tried them out on the family in the evening.

On Father’s last trip to the capital, his appearance before the Duma was a great success. In his speech he urged unity and warned that only unity would bring victory--the victory he reminded them was so near. Hearing his inspiring message, everyone was optimistic. There was country-wide rejoicing, especially when shortly afterward the news came that Erzerum, which had been stubbornly held by the Turks for so long, had fallen.

Father said that he was willing to grant liberal concessions but he feared that this was not the time for great, radical changes. They would have too damaging an effect during wartime.

Sir John Hanbury-Williams was in Petrograd for several days and saw Olga and Tatiana at this presentation of Father’s at the Tauride Palace (Duma). He afterwards said to Olga: “Knowing your Imperial Father the way I do, I am most sorry for His Majesty; so is all the High Command, for there is not one single word of truth in all the propaganda circulating. He assuredly does not deserve such malicious criticism.” Hanbury-Williams thought that Father’s address was most enthusiastically accepted and would bring good results. However, it created apprehension among the enemy who seemed to be losing hope of winning the war. Nevertheless, it provoked more damaging propaganda. Father repeated that he would not yield to Germany. More than ever, Wilhelm made Father his target. He aimed at him with traitors who spread their lies insidiously underground like the roots of a tree. There were attacks on Father from all directions--a whispering campaign spread to injure his reputation before his people. Of course Mother already had come in for her share of this terrible barrage of falsehood; in her case the slander centered around Anna and Rasputin. But that only made Mother stubborn, and she closed her ears and no longer would believe anyone around her. She had felt for a long time that she was doomed to death from the day she set her foot on Russian soil.

X MOGILEV

The year 1916, the date May 6th. It was Father’s forty-eighth birthday. The day before, we went to G.H.Q. at Mogilev to be with him. As usual we stayed on our train. On this occasion the Russian and all the Allied High Command, as well as some of our relatives, came to extend to Father their congratulations.

Mother, shy and reserved by nature, came with us even though she dreaded meeting the members of the Allied Military Missions, some of whom she had not yet met. We knew many of the officers quite well. I particularly remember our friend General Keller, Generals Ivanov, Lechitsky, Dieterichs, Yanin, Resin, Kornilov, Brussilov, Father’s Chief of Staff, General Alexeiev, General Dubensky, the military historian attached to G.H.Q., and Captain Nilov. I recall, too, the traitor, General Ruzsky, who left such a bad impression in the Baltic.

In the morning we went to the garrison church services nearby, under the thick pine trees. There were many high ranking men and titled guests in attendance.

Mother had ordered flowers from the Crimea to be used as decorations for the occasion. We sisters made two flower arrangements for Father’s study and his bedroom. One of these was placed on the table in his bedroom in front of an icon of Saint Nicholas. On the piano in the big hall were large branches of white orchids artistically arranged.

Dinner was served to about fifty guests. All the members of foreign missions and the Russian generals and their wives who happened to be there attended, as well as a number of the Grand Dukes who came to Mogilev especially for this occasion.

We assembled in the large hall and stood in line with Father to receive the congratulations of the guests. We girls wore white dresses and white hats trimmed with ostrich feathers. Uncle Serge Mikhailovich, who was in command of the Russian artillery, was present. Others were the Grand Duke Cyril and his brother the Grand Duke Boris Vladimirovich; they could not disguise their bitter hatred for the family, especially for Mother, when their turn came to take our hands.

At the dinner Mother sat next to Father and at her side was our handsome, lively brother Alexei. Opposite them was Olga, Hanbury-Williams and the others. In the evening we took in a movie. Prince Igor Constantinovich was there and accompanied us next morning on a walk in the forest, where spring flowers were abundant.

From Mogilev we went to Sevastopol, Crimea, making several stops on the way to inspect military hospitals. At the Tsarskaya Pristan (dock) in Sevastopol we were greeted with cheers by sailors from Navy vessels. Everywhere we went, we were met with a great deal of friendliness by the people who came forth with flowers, fruits, and gifts of money for the hospitals. We also made a surprise visit to the Romanov Institute of Physical Therapy. In Evpatoria we met Admiral Kolchak, who later played an important role in fighting the Communists in 1918 in order to capture Ekaterinburg and rescue us. Unfortunately he was betrayed by the Czech troops. We had tea with Anna, who had been sent there by Mother on a special mission some weeks earlier. Father and Alexei went back to Mogilev and we left for Tsarskoe Selo. Anna accompanied us for several stations, and then returned to the Crimea.

About this time the people began to show unrest as a result of a rumor, which an investigation showed had been spread by German agents, to the effect that Mother and Aunt Ella were hiding Uncle Ernest. It upset my Mother so much that she had a heart attack.

When demonstrations began to take place in Moscow, because of this false propaganda, Mother was told that Kerensky, who up to now was biding his time, urged Guchkov to start a revolution, while the situation was still hot. Mother said he should be hanged for it. While Kerensky was plotting against my family, Father was at the front making every effort to bring Kaiser Wilhelm to his knees, despite the offers for the separate treaty which were made by the Kaiser who stressed that an alliance with Germany would be more beneficial to Russia than one with England. But all the proposals were ignored. Father knew the German position in the war was the lack of physical strength, particularly after Father’s Chamberlain, General Tatishchev had interviewed German officer prisoners and was told by them that the Kaiser had lost all his power which now rested in the hands of the High Command.

Mother went to Mogilev again and this time she took Anna with her. It caused a great deal of trouble and more hatred sprang from it. Even our own cousin, the Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich, spread the most unjust lies: that some drink was given to Father by Anna and that he was under hypnosis. How shameful that this young man in return for love gave disloyalty to the man who had given him kindness and affection as if he were his own father. Another ridiculous rumor was that gold had been shipped over the border to Germany in the coffins in which supposedly were bodies of German soldiers killed in the war.

Mother became resentful toward these rumors and stubborn in her reaction to them. Now she and Father would defend any innocent friend who was brought under false suspicion or accusation. How could anyone believe such falsehoods, especially against my Father, which were found in the end not to be true. Madame Narishkina once said to us that Mother’s friends brought her nothing but misfortune. It is true, but for this misfortune many others also were responsible. Anybody could have believed anything under the prevailing chaotic conditions of rumor and deceit For example, some years before the war, while the family was in the Crimea, every day a bouquet of fresh flowers was sent to Father for his desk in his study, and the card in them bore the signature “Ania.” This naturally aroused great consternation. Upon investigation, it was found that Ania Vyrubova at that very time had been with her family in the small village of Terijoki on the Gulf of Finland and so could not possibly have sent the flowers. Later Princess Sonia Orbeliani, once Mother’s lady in waiting, a bitter enemy of Anna’s, in a fit of anger revenged herself on Anna by saying that Anna had hired a gardener to send the flowers.

Another rumor related that Rasputin came to the palace by way of the back porch and visited the children’s quarters. In the first place, there was no back porch. On one occasion, he did come upstairs to see Alexei in his sickbed, using the private spiral stairway from Mother’s apartments, but subsequently, whenever Rasputin came, Alexei was carried downstairs. Moreover, Rasputin was accompanied by Father Vassiliev and almost always the Emperor was present. Father had traced this rumor to its source, and everyone connected with the story admitted that they had not seen Rasputin enter the palace, but that they were told to say so by a certain person. In fact, I never saw the peasant in any of our private quarters. These were always guarded at the foot of each stairway. We were so surrounded with people that he could not have avoided being detected by many.

This false rumor grew stronger and more outrageous stories were added to it. Those spreading these cruel gossips which injured Mother’s reputation were those who never had an opportunity even to see any member of the Imperial family, people whose feet never had trodden the grounds of Tsarskoe Selo. For every person living in this village was known to the police and any stranger coming into the area was always picked up and investigated. Anyone entering there had to carry his credentials. Those who spread such propaganda lived to regret it, but their remorse came much too late. Tragic as it was, these paid agents schemed to take Father away from the front because they knew his presence was all-important.

Alexander Park was enclosed by an iron fence, which was topped with three rows of barbed wire. Inside and outside were sentries at regular intervals. Every day these grounds were searched to be sure that no one was hiding there. Not a single person could enter the palace without a great deal of red tape. There were four entrances to the palace. The peasant was not allowed to use the main gate. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake as it gave an air of mystery to his rare visits. Accompanied by Father Vassiliev, he entered through the side or garden gate (across from the Znamensky Cathedral) which was accessible to only a few. The procedure here was simpler but any such entry was recorded, as was the case at the main gate. These authentic official entries were available since the time of Peter the Great, but many were destroyed by the invading Communists.

The visitor had to present proper credentials as to whom he was to see and for what purpose. His name was written several times; also the time of his arrival to the very minute. Halfway up the driveway to the palace the door of the car or the carriage was opened and the vehicle checked; also again a note was made of the identity of the visitor. In the meantime, the sentry at the gate had already telephoned the palace guard, announcing the arrival of the person. At the palace entrance, the guard on duty opened a square, barred window, and the visitor was ushered into a room where he presented his card to the officer on duty. The latter checked and compared the name and description of the visitor with names and photographs in a book, copies of which were found on tables in various parts of the palace. Then the visitor was directed to the reception room, where Mother received him. This was the procedure for all.

At each end of the corridor, and at the foot of every stairway, there was always an officer on duty who kept a record to the minute of everyone going up and down the stairs, no matter how many times a day.

Upon departure of a visitor, the same accuracy as to time was maintained, and a record of his stay was handed to the palace police. There were also a number of runners and about thirty-five guards on duty in the corridors and stairways alone; not all were armed. That same strict rule applied to all the palace staff, including the well-known Mistress of the Robes, Madame Narishkina, and the ladies in waiting. In fact when any one of us, even Father, arrived, the carriage was always inspected. We were never left unattended and we did not know what privacy was, being always surrounded by our teachers, ladies in waiting, governesses, nurses and chambermaids who frequently entered our rooms.

Secret police continually checked every activity of everyone. It would have been impossible to enter or leave in secrecy. No doubt there was a file on Rasputin with a complete record of his visits to the minute, showing how long he had been there and whom he had seen; and the names of the officers on duty had to appear in the record, especially after it was rumored that Rasputin was a spy. The secret police were watching him; according to some it was only for his own protection. But, at the same time, his activities were being carefully scrutinized. One slip on his part would have sent him to his death. The palace chief of police kept a copy of such records; another copy was delivered to the chief of police in Petrograd. In fact, during our arrest, these records were checked on Rasputin and on every member of our family to the very morning of our departure from the palace. The Ministers were responsible for many troubles, because they gathered around Rasputin and that gave him more confidence.

As for Mother’s supposed pro-German leanings, how often I wished Kaiser Wilhelm could have been in our household to hear the uncomplimentary remarks attached to his name. Alexei and I used to stuff pillows and take shots with toy guns at Uncle Wilhelm. The name Wilhelm aroused such invectives we were ordered not to use the word.

Olga Constantinovna, wife of King George I of Greece, sister of the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich, spoke to Mother about the peasant. She had become very upset about the gossip and because of it and the hot summer of 1916, she had suffered a heart attack. Later Father’s friend, Prince Volkonsky, came to see Father to warn him about the peasant. At that time, Aunt Ella became so upset by these rumors that she sent Count Sheremetiev, a friend and distant relative of ours, to deliver the message that Rasputin had been using our family name for his personal advantage while under the influence of liquor in Moscow. Mother and Father even now refused to believe the tale. It left Father very distressed. He could not understand how this highly educated man could have allowed anyone to recount such tales to him. This good family raised a great deal of money for hospitals; in their huge villa in Petrograd they sponsored a hospital for officers and paid for the upkeep from their own pockets. Besides, two of their sons were at the front.

Shortly afterwards, Aunt Ella herself appeared at Tsarskoe Selo. First, she talked to Mother alone about the peasant, but Mother said, “Sister, you do not believe all that do you?” Ella said, “I do not, but the people do.” Mother asked, “And who are those people? Please do not speak, as the others do. There is not one word of truth in what your friends are telling you.”

Mother was especially furious and could never forgive her sister when she said that God might punish Mother by taking her son away from her. That was a most painful remark for my Mother. The following morning, Aunt Ella pleaded on her knees before my parents. Even then they refused to believe the story. Instead Father turned to his aide-de-camp saying, “Have a train ready for the Grand Duchess’ departure.” Father at once left for G.H.Q. very upset. When Aunt Ella entered the room where we had bid good-bye to Father, her eyes were wet with tears and she was wiping them with her handkerchief. This was a sorrowful parting for both sisters as well as for the whole family. We kissed her for the last time, never to see her again. When she was leaving the rooms she lifted a hand, saying, “Remember the fate of the other Empresses.” Mother and both older sisters accompanied Aunt Ella to the station. We were told that Aunt Ella knew then that Rasputin would be killed.

Mother often asked why people had not opened their eyes to see something else besides an inclination for harm, which springs from stupidity and ignorance. Why were they not able to judge us, and see the good we had done? Even now she did not see that one could be capable of falsehood. Mother had such a love for Russia that often she said, “I would rather die than see Germany win the war!” She was English in every way. She had spent most of her time with Granny (Queen Victoria), and from her earliest childhood had taken a dislike for her cousin Wilhelm, largely because of his lack of consideration toward their Granny.

During this time, Mother’s mail was more voluminous than ever. One of the letters she received called her attention to the illustrated magazine _Niva_, in which was an article with a photograph of a dog undergoing vivisection. Among the magazines usually to be found on the table in the room next to Mother’s room, I could not find this issue. Because we were not allowed to remove books or magazine from the shelves, Mother immediately requested Mr. Shcheglov, our librarian, to bring this magazine to her. She asked me to find the page showing this needless cruelty. I opened the periodical; it fell open at that page. Strapped to a table, the unfortunate animal was being operated on without anaesthesia. This horrifying picture made an enormous impression on us. Mother without wasting time took steps to prevent such laboratory work being done without the animals being anaesthetized.

At once she became unpopular with many technicians and medical men. We all were always sympathetic towards animals, especially Alexei who frequently took home many homeless animals; he fed them and never feared being harmed by them. This good child repeatedly said, “Some time I shall have a large place for all the animals who have no home. I will feed them and care for them myself.” Many unfortunate animals were made homeless by war. He brought dozens of cats and dogs and sent them to our farms. Proudly he once said, “I am positive there is not a mouse left here.” The farmer agreed with him there was none.

There were always appeals to Mother for help. If a son was missing, she was asked to help trace him. Any injustice which came to her attention she tried to resolve by appealing to the proper authorities. When the burdens became too heavy, Mother rushed to the Church. To her, religion was more than worship, it was life. She loved the rituals, candles, chanting and prayers. Through the unburdening of her heart, through supplication for guidance, she was strengthened and helped to think more clearly, to understand more deeply and accept God’s will with greater humility. But dishonesty, insincerity, friction and perfidious gossip were continually clouding her sense of God’s will. At such a time disunity was high treason to Church and State. She wanted a new regime so that Alexei would not have to struggle with the old autocracy handed down by his Grandfather.

Father had taken an oath in his war manifesto that he would never make peace so long as one enemy soldier remained on Russian soil. The enemy knew that only a revolution could defeat the Russian armies, so they spread a network of lies to poison the Russian mind. Their central theme held that Mother was redoubling her pro-German activities. In the Duma attacks were made on Father in an effort to discredit him. Many friends no longer participated at the meetings of the Duma; they could not stand to hear the slander of their Emperor.

These words are painful for me to put in writing, and I shall not further denounce these slanderers, as it would be against my Christian belief.

Word was brought from General Headquarters that Alexei had caught cold on the train during a trip to the front. He had sneezed and burst a blood vessel in his nose. When Dr. Fedorov was unable to stop the bleeding, also fearing that his cold might get worse, he suggested that Father return Alexei to Tsarskoe Selo. He had almost died on his way home because of the jolting and jarring and it had been necessary to stop the train several times at night in order to change Alexei’s dressings. He collapsed into unconsciousness several times and seemed to be on the verge of death. All night Nagorny had to support his head.

Meanwhile in Tsarskoe Selo, we were receiving wires posting us on his condition. Some arrived late in the evening so that Mother sat up all night, fearing that the end had come. At six in the morning Anna called Rasputin and requested him to pray for Alexei. Rasputin replied that Alexei would be better, not to worry, and that the bleeding would stop. Strange as it may seem, the bleeding did stop shortly thereafter. Later we were told that Anna informed the peasant that Alexei was better. Mother went to the station to meet the train and when Alexei was carried down the platform, he smiled at her. She was thankfully relieved. His bleeding stopped. Mother kissed him and he drew her hand to his lips. Father left again for G.H.Q. and Alexei remained at home recovering from his illness.

In spite of my brother’s poor health, our parents insisted that, as soon as his condition improved and the weather permitted, he must return to Mogilev. It was felt necessary that he prepare himself for his future responsibilities, even though his health had been impaired. Father said that Alexei was not to be shielded behind the scenes as he himself had been during the reign of Alexander III. As soon as the war should be over, Alexei, accompanied by his tutors, was to go to England to receive special training. My little brother became nervous under the strain, and we all felt sorry for him. Once, at two o’clock in the morning, Alexei awakened Olga in her room and said, “I cannot sleep; I am worried.”

The fact that I had been asked to share the responsibility with Olga and Tatiana deeply stirred me. They suggested that Mother should not be left alone in her bedroom at night while Father was away even though a maid was in the room next to Mother’s. We sisters decided to take turns spending the nights with Mother, as well as time after school hours. Alexei was hurt, because he was not asked to share this loving trust. He protested: “Am I not a member of the family? I am tired of taking humiliations from you. You seem to enjoy giving me orders.” I explained that he could do his share by sleeping in Father’s bedroom when he returned to G.H.Q. This satisfied him.

I shadowed Mother, amused her, and did everything in my power to make her happy. I did many things by which I hoped to spare her needless steps. I accepted my responsibility seriously and was a little hurt at Mother’s amused surprise at my obvious attentiveness. It pleased me to have Mother call me her little helper, because I saved her many steps. Often Alexei called Mother on the telephone and, while she was talking to him, I would run up and warn him not to call Mother again. I felt responsible for her and at the same time I was filled with a sense of importance while on duty at her side. For some time we thought Mother’s health was deteriorating under the strain of worry and sorrow. Now her heart became worse and she no longer was able to give actual care to the wounded at the hospital.

While Father was home, he had several stories about Rasputin investigated. One report declared that Rasputin had boasted in a restaurant, in public, that the embroidered upper blouse which he wore that evening had been presented to him by the Empress. Father sent for this man, whom he had disliked for so long. He questioned him about his claim. The peasant appeared to be surprised and frightened, but had finally admitted that he had made the remark. “How dare you?” Father looked straight into his eyes. Then, Father pointed to the door and Rasputin was shown out by an aide-de-camp. Olga remarked later to us sisters that the only regret she had was that the peasant had not been thrown out long before this.

Father never liked nor believed in the Starets and neither did we girls. Even Alexei was doubtful about the peasant’s honesty. In our presence, Rasputin was always respectful and unobtrusive. Mother, however, was convinced that Alexei’s life during his most severe attacks was saved by Rasputin’s prayers. Mother was impressed by the man’s simple common sense. He had such a saintly approach that Mother believed that he was a man sent by God. Most of the messages from Rasputin had come to Mother through Anna. It was at Anna’s house that Mother saw this wandering monk and their conversation was always about religion. There was little doubt that he was a healer of a sort which some Christian Churches have always known and recognized. However, many discounted Rasputin’s healing claims by explaining that he always came into the picture when Alexei was already on the way to recovery. When Alexei was previously ill, because some one inserted into his lower body some kind of serum which caused him untold suffering and many sleepless nights, Rasputin was blamed for it. It was Rasputin who made all the nurses and maids go to confess at the church as a result of which it was found that someone close to the family was responsible for this illness.

The attacks Alexei suffered had become fewer and less serious. My parents were hopeful Alexei would eventually outgrow his trouble. Alexei was often puzzled about Rasputin, whom he considered to be a healer. One day he asked, “Tell me, Mommy, why is it that God listens to the peasant’s prayers, but not to mine.” Mother honestly believed that Rasputin was sent to save her son. Under similar circumstances any mother would have felt the same.

On another occasion we had Father Vassiliev as our guest. Alexei was just getting over a bad cold. He asked why people said that the peasant was a saint. Papa replied that he would rather have Father Vassiliev explain this to Alexei. The clergyman answered that anyone who does good and lives according to the Holy Scriptures could be a saint. “Then what shall I do that God will listen to my prayers?” asked Alexei.

Father Vassiliev of the Feodorovsky Sobor taught Alexei religion. Alexei was deeply attached to his instructor, who was very religious, had a kind heart, loved people, made friends easily and was loyal and defended them when they were in trouble. Alexei was bright, lively, had a quick mind, delicate features, a white, clear complexion and coppery, auburn hair. In secret among the family he was called “Ruchka” (the hand). This he knew, although we did not at first know it.

XI OUR LAST AUTUMN IN TSARSKOE SELO

The fall of 1916 was a beautiful one, with the brilliant flames of orange oak and russet beech trees, elms and avenues of lime trees all fused harmoniously as in a painting. It was our last autumn in Tsarskoe Selo. Again, Alexei joined his Father at G.H.Q. and both went to review the troops at the front. As usual, Father inspected the field kitchens and tasted the food to be sure that it was kept up to the prescribed standards. Then they visited the hospitals in Kiev, at the same time spending several days with Granny who had been living there in the palace near the beautiful Dnieper river for the duration of the war, in order to be near her daughter Olga.

Upon their return to G.H.Q., Alexei sent a note home to say that Father was distressed after having had a talk with Granny; she had changed. Alexei, although a child, was conscious of the fact that this disquieting conversation stemmed from Ruchka’s illness and the peasant. Granny did not know that Alexei knew that in secret he was called “Ruchka”. There were other relatives present at this discussion, one of them being Uncle Sandro (Alexander Mikhailovich). He was the head of military aviation and was stationed in Kiev.

During this conversation, Aunt Olga defended Alicky (Mother) whereas Granny blamed everything on her. Grandmother openly predicted then that all would end in disaster. Alexei promised Mother that he would never cause Father trouble, and would be careful of his own health. He told us later that he had cried on the train while Father was in his study, and that he no longer loved his Granny as he used to. At this time Aunt Olga was happily remarried. Her husband was the handsome officer of the Guard whom she had known for a long time, Colonel Nicholai Koulikovsky.

Soon Mother and we sisters went on another tour to the hospitals and were greeted enthusiastically everywhere. We received big donations for the hospitals. During this tour we stopped for a several days’ visit with Father. This was to be our last trip to G.H.Q. We knew right away that something connected with Rasputin was troubling Father, as a result of his last visit to Kiev.

Now Father asked Granny to leave for the Crimea in order to end the gossip, which without Granny’s encouragement would never have taken place. Later even Olga wrote her asking for God’s sake to leave for the Crimea. But all was in vain.

At this time Uncle Sandro, the husband of Aunt Xenia, proposed to Father that he should promulgate the constitution on his name day, December 6th, but Father said it was impossible because at the coronation he had sworn on the Bible to uphold the autocracy.

Now we already knew of the plan to assassinate Mother, Father and many of his aides, especially Prince Dolgorukov, Captain Nilov, A.D.C. Mordvinov, Count Fredericks and others. It was organized in Kiev by Guchkov. Granny and the Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaevich in Caucasia supported the idea, but Granny confessed to Father, during her last conversation with him, that she did not know that the Guchkov plan was to assassinate Father and the others. She believed that they were working towards Father’s abdicating the throne to the Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaevich.