Chapter VII: The Last Prison

The intimate connection between Berlin and Moscow yielded many living examples among the visitors to Tobolsk. Many, if not all, of the spies, emissaries, and other agents appearing there had been at one time or another in the German capital. Yakovlev, the special commissary sent to remove the prisoners from Tobolsk, was no exception to the rule.

His appearance was preceded by certain events which must be related here. The soldiers forming the guard at Tobolsk grew tired of Pankratov and his everlasting speeches. By the end of the first week in February (1918) they had decided to get rid of him and of Nikolsky. On the 9th they turned them out of the Kornilov house and drove them out of the town. They then telegraphed to Moscow, reporting what they had done, and asked that a proper commissary--not an appointee of Kerensky--should be sent. But Moscow remained obstinately silent. The time for action had not yet arrived. Meanwhile, the Soviet at Omsk, representing Western Siberia, sent a representative to Tobolsk. He arrived on March 24th. This man was a certain Dutzmann, a Jew. He did not interfere with the prison _régime_; indeed, he never came near the governor’s house.

At the end of March, Alexis had a severe attack of his illness--the worst ever known. Both legs were paralysed. The pain was excruciating and unremitting. Day and night he cried aloud in his agony, and the aged and infirm mother had to sit by and comfort him. After a whole month of suffering the patient began to improve and the pains grew less, but he was still a cripple and could not be moved without serious danger. At this juncture appeared the Soviet emissary, Yakovlev. Neither the soldiers nor the captives were surprised. Only a few days later they understood what an important part he had come to play in their lives.

Yakovlev reached Tobolsk with an escort of 150 horsemen late in the evening of April 22nd and unobtrusively took up his residence in the Kornilov house. Colonel Kobylinsky saw him next morning. Yakovlev handed him an order from the Tsik, signed by Sverdlov, intimating that the bearer was entrusted with a mission of the highest importance and that he must be implicitly obeyed, but no hint was given as to the nature of the mission. Yakovlev then had the men of the guard mustered and showed them a similar document, by which they were informed that any disobedience to him would be punished with death. To sugar the pill, Yakovlev told them that he had brought them a lot of money, the Soviet having decided to pay at the rate of three roubles a day instead of fifty kopecks, the rate fixed by the Kerensky Government. Altogether, Yakovlev showed himself to be an expert in the art of handling peasant soldiers, but he had to overcome opposition of a more subtle kind from a Jew named Zaslavsky, who had insinuated himself among the guards as the representative of the Uralian Soviet. This man had previously caused no end of trouble by “discovering” “plots,” and had almost persuaded the soldiers on one occasion to insist that the Imperial captives should be transferred to the town lock-up. In fact, here once more it was only the coolness of the resourceful Kobylinsky that had saved the situation.

But this noxious individual did not have things all his own way. The Omsk Soviet also had its representative among the guard--a Russian named Degtiarev. Now the two Soviets--that of Omsk and the one at Ekaterinburg--being constantly at odds, their emissaries were naturally jealous of each other. Thus it was enough for Zaslavsky to take one view in order that Degtiarev should take the opposite one. Zaslavsky had for some reason immediately stirred up opposition to Yakovlev and tried to persuade the soldiers that he was a spy come to deliver the prisoners. With Zaslavsky was an Ekaterinburg workman named Avdeiev, who figured prominently in subsequent events. It is noteworthy that Yakovlev came to Tobolsk by way of Ufa--a roundabout journey from Moscow--apparently in order to avoid Ekaterinburg. Yakovlev had friends in Ufa. It is probable that he had met Avdeiev there. He appears to have imagined that Avdeiev might help him to prevent or allay suspicion in Ekaterinburg. In this he was mistaken.

At a meeting of the soldiers on the 24th, Degtiarev, backed by Yakovlev, attacked Zaslavsky with such vim that the men threw him out, and he made haste to escape to Ekaterinburg to relate a purely imaginary story of Yakovlev’s designs to release the Romanovs. But there is evidence to show that he first communicated by wire with Sverdlov. Zaslavsky’s poisonous character may have been the only prompting necessary, but it is not impossible that he may have been “inspired” from Moscow to play a part in the intricate conspiracy that was to exterminate the Romanovs. Certainly Yakovlev underrated his capacity for mischief, as will appear later. Sverdlov tried to make the world believe that Nicholas II. was to be brought to Moscow for trial. But this may have been only an afterthought. In any case, it was easy to have him intercepted by playing upon local ignorance and suspicion through Zaslavsky.

Meanwhile, during these two days (the 23rd and 24th), Yakovlev had been repeatedly inside the governor’s house, and on each occasion had gone to the boy’s room, appearing suddenly, looking fixedly at the patient, and then going away. Nobody noticed his strange behaviour at the time. They remembered it afterwards. No one knew as yet what he had come for. On the night of the 24th Yakovlev went to the telegraph office, taking with him an expert operator who had come with him from Moscow, and had a long conversation over the wire with Sverdlov, the substance of which--as transpired later--dealt with the boy’s sickness and the impossibility of moving him. Sverdlov gave him “new instructions” to the effect that he was to bring Nicholas and that since the boy could not come he would have to be left behind for the present.

From the telegraph office, Yakovlev went straight to Colonel Kobylinsky and, for the first time, disclosed the object of his mission. “But what about Alexis?” remonstrated the commandant. “That is the trouble,” was the reply. “I have satisfied myself that he is really too ill to travel, so my orders now are to take the ex-Tsar alone and leave the family here for the present. I propose to start tomorrow. Arrange for me to see him at once.” It should be explained that as the roads would, in a few days, become impassable, and the river-ice break up any moment, owing to the advance of spring, it was necessary to leave Tobolsk at once or wait several weeks till the rivers were clear of ice. Hence Yakovlev’s haste. But as he was apparently well acquainted with the character of the Empress, he insisted that Nicholas should receive him alone.

The ex-Tsar appointed two o’clock on the following day for the interview. Alexandra became furious on learning that she was not to be present. When Yakovlev entered the drawing-room, she met him with flaming eyes and asked him how he dared to separate husband and wife. Yakovlev, with a shrug of the shoulders, addressed himself to Nicholas: “The Moscow Central Executive Committee have sent me as Commissary Extraordinary with power to remove the whole family, but as Alexis Nikolaievich is ill I have received orders to leave with you alone.” The Tsar replied: “I shall go nowhere.” Yakovlev remonstrated: “You must not say that. I have to carry out orders. If you refuse to go, I must either use force or send in my resignation, and then someone else will come who will be less humane. Have no anxiety; I answer for your life with my head. If you do not wish to go alone take anybody you like. Be ready to leave tomorrow at four.” Yakovlev thereupon left without addressing the Empress.

Kobylinsky remained in compliance with a request from the ex-Tsar. Alexandra and Tatishchev and Dolgoruky stood by. “Where do they want to take me?” asked Nicholas. “To Moscow,” was the reply. “Yakovlev let it slip out when I inquired how long he would be away before returning to fetch the family.” The ex-Tsar nodded, as if the news confirmed his own knowledge. Turning to his followers he declared: “You see they want me to sign the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. But I would rather cut off my hand than do so.”

Alexandra, much agitated, interposed: “I am also going. Without me they will persuade him into doing something, as they did once before....” And she fired a volley of abuse at Rodzianko for his part in the abdication. But in the stress of the moment she had forgotten her sick boy. The hours that followed will ever be recalled by all who survive as the most painful of their memories. This distracted mother, too feeble to stand for more than five minutes, paced her room like a caged tigress. She summoned her favourite daughter Tatiana and burst into a storm of weeping. For the first time her attendants saw her lose all self-control. In broken sentences she disburdened herself of her sorrow, revealing in her distress the innermost thoughts of her mind: “The Germans know that their treaty is valueless without the Tsar’s signature.... They want to separate him from his family in order to frighten him into some disgraceful act.... He will be afraid to refuse on our account.... It will be a repetition of Pskov....” She wrestled with herself, praying that she might not have to choose between her husband and her son, hoping that the river might suddenly open and prevent any travelling. At last she came to a decision, and, jumping up, cried: “It is enough, I go with the Emperor.” Nicholas entered the room. She greeted him with the words: “I shall not let you go alone.” “As you will,” was his reply.

Volkov, the Empress’s confidential man-servant, deposes that he saw her in the Tsarevich’s room, and as she was going out inquired what was the matter. Alexandra replied: “_Gosudar_ (the Tsar) is to be taken away to Moscow. They want him to conclude peace. But I am going with him. I shall never permit such a thing. What would our Allies say?”

Madame Bittner spoke to the Tsar at this same juncture. She suggested that “they,” meaning the Germans, would take him “out of the country.” He replied: “God grant that it be not so. Only not abroad!” This witness deposes that the whole family dreaded the idea of being sent abroad, _i.e._, to Germany.

In this connection I recall a remarkable passage in one of the depositions. Some member of the household at Tobolsk was reading out of a newspaper the statement that the Brest-Litovsk treaty contained a clause assuring the safety of the Imperial family. The Empress broke in with an angry exclamation in French: “I had rather die in Russia than be saved by the Germans.” (_Je préfère mourir en Russie que d’être sauvée par les allemands._)

It was then settled that the party with the Tsar should include: Alexandra, the Grand Duchess Maria, Prince Dolgoruky, Dr. Botkin, and the servants Chemodurov, Demidova, and Ivan Sednev. On receiving the list, Yakovlev said: “It is all the same to me.” The soldiers were again assembled on the evening of the 25th to be informed of the Tsar’s removal. To forestall any objections, a number of them were selected to accompany the party.

* * * * *

The vehicles that were to convey the travellers to Tiumen, where they would find a train, did not differ from the ordinary Siberian _tarantass_--a large basket swung upon long flexible poles uniting two springless axles, the baskets being filled with straw. Into these vehicles the travellers tumbled and disposed themselves as best they could. Alexandra had a _troika_, the others a pair of horses. She beckoned to the Tsar to mount with her, but Yakovlev sent Maria to join her mother, and shared his _tarantass_ with Nicholas.

The roads were terrible. No traveller who has not experienced springtime travel in Russia can have any idea of them. At some places the party had to alight and walk through deep slush. The Empress was better off than the others as she had a stronger team. Yakovlev was hurrying as fast as horseflesh could go. Relays waited at stated intervals. The travellers passed from one _tarantass_ into another. It was better to lose no time as every day the roads became worse, but there was another reason: Yakovlev was evidently afraid of being stopped by the local soviets and wished to rush past before they had had time to oppose him.

Throughout the trip he conversed with the ex-Tsar on politics, endeavouring to talk him over to a certain point of view--but the Tsar would not give way. This much the coachman who drove them could swear to, although he could not catch all the details of the conversation. He noticed that Nicholas did not “scold the Bolsheviks,” but somebody else.

They reached Tiumen on the 28th at 9 p.m. A special train was in waiting. They started westward, but had not travelled far when at a wayside station Yakovlev heard that Ekaterinburg would intercept him. What he feared had happened. The only hope lay in circumventing Ekaterinburg. For this purpose it was necessary to return, go east as far as Omsk-Kulomzino, and thence switch on to the Cheliabinsk-Ufa railway. But he was too late. The soviet at Ekaterinburg had wired to Omsk that the ex-Tsar was escaping eastward, and a cordon of Red guards stopped the train at Kulomzino. Yakovlev detached the engine and went across the Irtysh to Omsk, and there, with the help of his private telegraphist, spoke with Moscow. He was ordered by Sverdlov to proceed _via_ Ekaterinburg. As might be expected, they were met by a strong force of fanaticised Red guards at the station at Ekaterinburg (April 30th). Yakovlev’s authority was flouted and the escort and guards that were with him imprisoned till he had departed empty-handed on his way to Moscow. The unfortunate Romanovs thus came into the hands that were to massacre them and take their belongings.

Yakovlev had no hand in this foul conspiracy. He had been quite sincere and consistent in his efforts to bring the whole family safely to Moscow. There is no indication whatever, in all he said, that the object of this removal was to bring the Tsar to trial. On the contrary, the conversations with the Tsar, continued in the railway carriage, where, again, he was separated from Alexandra, gave additional colour to the version already given by Nicholas himself--that it was intended to restore the monarchy under certain conditions.[8] Speaking of Yakovlev, the ex-Tsar afterwards said: “Not a bad sort--evidently sincere.” Alexandra did not cease to bewail her misfortunes, weeping over her son and her husband.

On reaching Moscow, Yakovlev must have had some doubts about the sincerity of the Tsik. Anyhow, he resigned his commissaryship and eventually joined the White forces, and then mysteriously disappeared. An interview with him, published in a Red organ at the time of his journey in charge of the Imperial captives, contains some very instructive features. It passes over in silence the attempt to evade Ekaterinburg and falsifies the dates of arrival and departure at Tiumen so that the glaring discrepancy between this and the arrival at Ekaterinburg (two days instead of half a day) should not be noticed; ignores, in fact, all the local soviet intrigues and protests, quite needlessly, that he did not mention politics in his conversation with Nicholas. Vasily Vasilievich Yakovlev had been a naval officer and was therefore of Russian noble blood. He had committed some political offence, had spent many years abroad--in Berlin. Who were his real chiefs? It is not difficult to guess.

Two other commissaries went to Tobolsk to remove the remainder of the family--Tatiana had been left in charge of the invalid and household. Olga, the eldest daughter, did not enjoy her mother’s confidence in the same degree. She took far more interest in literature than in the practical affairs of life, and would hide herself in a corner with a book or tell stories to the soldiers, utterly forgetting domestic trifles. Anastasia, still a child, and rather backward, could be left in Tatiana’s care. Maria went with the Imperial couple because she was too grown-up to remain under her sister’s care. She was a very attractive girl, and it used to be rather a joke among the grand duchesses to twit her on her “conquests” among the Komisars.

The two successors of Yakovlev were:--A sailor named Hohriakov and a certain Rodionov. The latter was afterwards identified as a former gendarme officer. He used to inspect the passports at the German frontier, and served some time in the Russian Embassy at Berlin as a spy on Russian revolutionaries. When taxed with it, he admitted the impeachment. The sailor, a typical good-natured peasant, soon made friends with all the children. Rodionov, on the contrary, went out of his way to torment and ill-treat them. He forbade the grand duchesses to lock their doors at night, informing them with a leer that he had a perfect right to come into their rooms whenever he liked. With every appearance of enjoyment, he announced that in Ekaterinburg they would have to observe stricter rules, which he himself had devised. Hohriakov was nominally senior to Rodionov, but the latter did what he pleased.

Here must be recorded a circumstance which was destined to play an important part in the detection of the murders of Ekaterinburg. Before separating, it had been understood between mother and daughters that they would take measures for safeguarding the jewels that had been brought with them from Tsarskoe, worth not less than a million gold roubles (£100,000). A letter from the maid Demidova

A vaulted semi-basement, 18 by 16 feet. Photographed from the spot where the so-called “Lett” soldiers stood while firing their revolvers. The Tsar and his son sat in the center of the room and behind them was the Empress, also seated. The other victims stood at the further wall.]

He organised the murder of the Romanov family, and was despised and later killed by Russian workmen. He was President of the “Tsik”, i.e., Prime Minister and Ruler of the Red Inquisition. He posed for his portrait with his portfolio at the entrance of his palatial offices in the Hotel Metropole in Moscow, located on the square which is named after him. He is dressed in a short shirt and shabby overcoat with only a cap of expensive fur to befit the high office of the wearer.]

A pectoral cross, set with emeralds, belonging to the Empress, and the Empress’s great diamond pendant.]

from Ekaterinburg gave the necessary indications. The grand duchesses were “to dispose of the medicines as had been agreed.” This meant that the jewels had to be secreted in the clothing in such a way as to escape search (Nicholas, Alexandra, and Maria had been “searched” very thoroughly and brutally). For some days the grand duchesses and their trusty servants worked at the task, sewing up the valuables in their bodices, in their hats, and even inside their buttons. The Empress had few if any valuables with her--possibly because there had been no time to secrete them--but thanks to the precautions now taken, the grand duchesses managed to smuggle all that was of greatest value into their last prison-house. Womanlike, they clung to these relics of former happiness, and perhaps deep down in their hearts slumbered some hope that the gems might help them to escape.

Leaving Tobolsk by steamer on May 20th the family and household reached Ekaterinburg on the 22nd without incident.

In handing over his prisoners to the Ekaterinburg Soviet, Yakovlev obtained the following written acknowledgment:--“Russian Federal Soviet Republic. Uralian Regional Council of Deputies. Receipt. 30th April, 1918. I, the President of the Regional Uralian Council of Deputies, Beloborodov, have taken over from the member of the All-Russian Tsik comrade Yakovlev the interned: former Tsar Nicholas Romanov, the former Tsaritsa Alexandra Feodorovna, the former Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna, and the persons accompanying them. All these persons are under arrest and under guard. The President of the Uralian Regional Sovdep. (Signed) Beloborodov.”