The Last of the Tsars

The Petrograd Soviet sent soldiers out to Tsarskoe Selo under the leadership of Socialist-Revolutionary Colonel Sergei Mstislavski. They travelled in armoured cars. Mstislavski was on his party’s left wing, and it looked for a while that there would be violence. Dressed in his military uniform, he waved a letter from Chkheidze asking Kobylinski to render him every assistance. Mstislavski demanded to see Nicholas in person.2 According to Kobylinski, he also demanded Nicholas’s transfer to custody in the Peter-Paul Fortress in Petrograd.3 When Kobylinski point-blank refused, Mstislavski exclaimed: ‘Well, Colonel, you know the blood that will now flow, and it will be on your head that it falls.’ Kobylinski replied: ‘Well, so be it. If it falls, it falls; but I still can’t fulfil your request.’ As Mstislavski trudged away, Kobylinski assumed that it was the end of the matter. In fact Mstislavski inveigled his way into the Alexander Palace, convincing the captain on duty to let him into the building on condition that he would only observe the emperor without speaking to him. Mstislavski returned to Petrograd, reporting that the Romanovs were being kept under proper control.4

Of all the cabinet ministers it was Kerensky who had most direct contact with Nicholas after all Romanov questions were placed under the care of the Ministry of Justice.5 He had too many other things on his desk until 3 April, when at last he found time to go out to Tsarskoe Selo and talk to the former emperor. At his first meeting with Nicholas he addressed him as ‘Nikolai Alexandrovich’, as if he were just another ordinary Russian. But Kerensky slipped back to ‘Your Majesty’ [Velichestvo] whenever he forgot himself. The emperor mentioned this to his retinue; it was one of the few amusing things he found in the course of his conversation with the justice minister.6 The court retainers were less indulgent and took poorly to him. Kerensky wore a Russian shirt and rather tattered double-breasted jacket whereas they were accustomed to presentations at court in which ministers always wore tailcoats, and they did not see why a mere revolution should make a difference.7 They also glumly observed that he travelled to Tsarskoe Selo in the emperor’s limousine driven by his old chauffeur. This did not go down well in the palace.8

Kerensky carried out his duty with assiduity, talking not only with Nicholas but also with Alexandra and Alexei. Despite being famous throughout Russia as a lawyer who had attacked the bulwarks of tsarism, Kerensky now felt it was important for him to get to know the imperial family and asked what they thought about the idea of asylum in England; he also checked personally on matters of security in and around the Alexander Palace.9 It was in this way that he heard from a palace servant that the former empress and Anna Vyrubova had set about burning a pile of documents in the stoves. Enquiries made of other servants confirmed the story. Armed with this proof of Alexandra’s capacity for deviousness, Kerensky requisitioned all official and personal documentation so that she could not obstruct the work of the Extraordinary Investigative Commission.10 He also acted to remove Vyrubova from the palace. She was ill and in bed on the day of his visit and her déshabillé appearance disgusted him: he thought she lacked any sense of shame or self-respect. Without further ado he ordered her arrest along with another of Alexandra’s confidantes, Lili Dehn, and they were both sent to the Peter-Paul Fortress.11

Kerensky returned to Tsarskoe Selo a few days later with Colonel Korovichenko, whom he appointed as commandant of the cantonment. He wanted to quarantine the Romanovs. Retainers would be subject to the same conditions and were to be told to make their choice whether to stay or leave. The palace was to be cut off from the world. Kerensky’s permission was going to be required before anybody could step on to the curtilage. He laid down that all correspondence would undergo censorship.12 Kerensky carefully followed the work of the Extraordinary Investigative Commission and demanded the right to have the chest containing Nicholas’s past letters inspected. Nicholas complied but held back a letter that he insisted was private. When Korovichenko snatched the letter from him, Nicholas lost his temper but was helpless to resist, exclaiming: ‘Well, in that case I’m not needed. I’m going out for a walk.’13

Alexander Guchkov was another politician who made his way to Tsarskoe Selo. Having become the army and navy minister, he wanted to establish that everything was satisfactory with the garrison. He turned up unannounced and his interview with Nicholas was very different from the ones of an earlier period, including the occasion on the train in Pskov a few weeks previously. This time Guchkov was neither supplicant nor petitioner and, as Nicholas was all too aware, could make things difficult for the family if he so decided. But Nicholas could handle the situation and the conversation was businesslike and courteous. The sole unpleasantness occurred as Guchkov made his way out, when it became clear that the officers who were escorting him included a fiery fellow who spoke curtly to the Romanov retinue: ‘You’re our enemies. We’re your enemies. All of you here are mercenaries.’ There was a suspicion that drink was getting the better of him. The valet Volkov gave him a dusty riposte: ‘You, good sir, are mistaken about our gentility.’ This was short of a challenge or a threat, but it was a sign that the imperial entourage retained a feeling that there were certain acceptable ways to address them. Guchkov affected not to have heard the outburst, and did not even turn his head.14

Alexandra had never expected to get on with him since he was one of the Provisional Government’s most revolutionary ministers. She regarded Kerensky with intense suspicion, and he shared the widespread public hostility to her over the role she had played in politics before the February Revolution. It could have remained a fractious relationship, but after his first dishevelled appearance at the Alexander Palace, Kerensky began to arrive dressed smartly in a tailcoat and garters.16 This amused her. Gaining a sense of his embarrassment, she was tickled about his general air of confusion and uncertainty.17 When he asked to talk to her in Nicholas’s office, she sent back word that Kerensky should instead come to her room. Kerensky saw no point in arguing and complied with her request. To their joint surprise, they got on well. From behind the closed doors, the valet Volkov could hear plenty of laughter. Volkov asked Alexandra about this afterwards. Alexandra divulged that Kerensky had promised that the family was not about to be consigned to the Peter-Paul Fortress. Indeed, he had cracked some jokes. Alexandra was warming to him and on one occasion said: ‘He’s no problem. He’s a fine fellow. One can talk to him.’18

Nicholas nevertheless failed to understand the government’s inability to rule with greater firmness. ‘Surely,’ he asked, ‘Kerensky can stop this licentiousness? How is this possible? Alexander Fëdorovich was placed there by the people. The people must obey and not run amok. Kerensky’s the soldiers’ favourite.’19 But he also applauded Kerensky for endorsing a resumption of active operations at the front, which was music to Nicholas’s ears. At last there was attestation that the Provisional Government had not given up the fight. Nicholas applied for permission to hold a service of intercession on behalf of Russia’s forces at church in Tsarskoe Selo.20 It was all he could do after losing power. He yearned to identify himself with the country’s military purposes.21 Alexandra was less restrained whenever they discussed who was most responsible for their misfortune. Her angry outbursts agitated Nicholas, who took to telling her to shut up. This had not been his usual way with her, either in front of their retainers or alone. In past years if they disagreed, he had dealt with it by proceeding to ignore her advice. The new abruptness was a sign of the depth of his own distress – he liked to talk calmly and with decorum.22

But usually Nicholas exempted Kerensky from blame. One day, conversing with Sophie Buxhoeveden, he said: ‘That’s a person who could have been useful to me; it’s a pity that I didn’t know him earlier.’23 But he was less generous about those politicians who in his view had engineered his downfall:

I forgive Rodzyanko because he loved his country. He deceived himself and was himself tricked, for he wasn’t intelligent and submitted too easily to the influence of his entourage. But he was an honest man and a patriot, after his own fashion. As regards Milyukov, I again believe that he loved his country, after his own fashion, but that he was a man of party, a sectarian – and the party for him took the place of his fatherland. In working for his party, he worked against his country. Guchkov, well, he’s a man I deeply distrust, for he is filled with ambition; he would be capable of anything to gain power. He never understood that his self-interest never had a side that was dictated by love of his country. Everything that he did, he did for the glory of Guchkov.24

There was little rancour in his tirade, only a bitterness about the ensuing Russian turmoil. The only architect of Nicholas’s downfall whom he truly detested was Guchkov, and he liked to remember how he had denied him his hand at one of their meetings.25

It continued to pain Nicholas that the authorities refused to publish his final summons to the army to show obedience to the Provisional Government. But he rebuked Sophie Buxhoeveden when she failed to cross herself as prayers were being said for the cabinet: ‘The Provisional Government is Russia’s government. You may well not like Prince Lvov and his colleagues but you have to pray that Our Lord should give guidance in the matter of rule.’26 Ever the man of duty. Ever the patriot.