We knew that Mother had been tortured with the thought that Father had been shot; now we learned that Father too had been tormented with the rumor that she had been murdered. But soon we heard that Father was on his way to Petrograd; that when he was about to leave, Shulgin and Guchkov arrived in Mogilev. Father was surprised when he saw how Ruzsky received these men with the warmest greetings. Father knew then that they were bosom friends and that Ruzsky was a spy.
Six men were responsible for the delay which prevented Father’s train from reaching the capital. The train was delayed by the railway officials on orders from the Duma, in order to give the revolution a chance to become solidified. Kerensky worked from Petrograd; Guchkov, Kalenin, Gribushchin and Shulgin were on the train with Father; and at the other end was General Ruzsky, Commander of the Northern Front, located in Pskov. When Mother heard this, she said; “I urged Father to close the Duma long ago. Before Papa left for G.H.Q., he was discouraged with the Duma and left a signed order with the Premier, Prince Golitsyn, to dissolve it at once, but the Premier failed to carry out his orders.”
Immediately after Father’s abdication, two of his close friends came to see him. One was General Count Keller and the other was General Khan of Nakhichevan. Both were Generals of the Guard and had known Father for many years. They asked Father’s permission to send their troops to Petrograd to suppress the revolution. Father was in favor of this, but since he was no longer in power, he suggested that they make this proposal to the Provisional Government. No doubt General Ruzsky received the offer of these two generals, but purposely tabled their suggestion.
From Pskov Father’s train went back to Mogilev to enable him to take leave of his beloved Army. Here once more General Count Keller came to see Father. He kissed his hand, saying; “Your Majesty, I would rather be dead, before I would serve any other government.” Later, I heard, he shot himself or was shot.
In Mogilev, General Alexeiev, Father’s trusted friend, now made known that Father was a prisoner. Present were a number of generals and the committee of the newly formed government, and several grand dukes, including Boris Vladimirovich, Cyril’s brother, who wanted to see Father, but General Voyeykov said that the Emperor could not see him.
Soon after Father’s farewell speech to the Army, the General Staff took the loyalty pledge to the Provisional Government, which then ordered that Father’s initials be removed from their epaulets, but these men refused to remove them, saying that they would kill the traitors before they would do such a thing. And Father said, “Now, it is too late.”
Prince Dolgorukov later related to us that Father’s tears were streaming down his face and that he turned away from the window of his study which was facing the parade ground. He could not see this painful performance inflicted upon his beloved Army. Before he left G.H.Q., he received the news that Granny was on her way to Mogilev. He dreaded a meeting with her, as she usually distressed him so much that he found her harder to handle than all of his ministers put together. He saw her on the train; she blessed him and they parted forever.
Later after several days aboard the train, Father finally reached Tsarskoe Selo, on March 9/22, 1917, at 11:30 A.M. Here at the pavilion (station) many of Father’s lifelong friends his trusted officers and his favorite aides-de-camp, who had come on the train with him, departed in an effort to save their own lives. It was said, though no one ever will know whether this really was true, that on the train that same morning before they reached Tsarskoe Selo they were told that if they stayed with Father they would be shot. “They deserted me in my saddest hour,” said Father. Among those of whom he spoke were Cyril Narishkin, chief of his mobile secretariat, the son of our dear Zizi Narishkina, the Mistress of the Robes; and also Count Grabbe, an A.D.C., whom we had known since our childhood. I remember when he accompanied us sisters on long walks on the shore in the Crimea and the time when I, in mischievous play, poured sand down his neck. Others who deserted Father were a Duke of Leuchtenberg and our friend A.D.C. Mordvinov whose daughter I knew and liked, and Sablin, whom we children loved like one of our own, once a lieutenant on the “Standard.” All of them had been close associates and friends. Captain Drenteln, a most beloved friend and a member of a battalion of Father’s own Preobrazhensky regiment, also disappeared.
Father came directly upstairs to Mother. He found Marie and myself desperately ill; I was only partly conscious. At first I thought that I dreamed of his being home. A few days later I realized how bad he looked. He was thin and his eyes were sad. His left shoulder shook nervously, much more than before. Only later Prince Dolgorukov told us of the unpleasant experience Father had upon his arrival at Tsarskoe Selo. Father had left the pavilion (station) and had received a shock upon seeing that his chauffeur was already dressed in civilian clothes. An even greater shock awaited him: although all the guards on duty, both at the outside gate and at the Palace entry, had been informed of the exact hour for the arrival of the Emperor, they showed their newly-acquired importance by asking the chauffeur over the phone for the identity of the occupants of the car. Both times the chauffeur replied, “It’s His Majesty.” With deliberateness, they replied, “Let Nicholai Alexandrovich pass through.” Father was very angry at this curt treatment and was surprised to see the antechamber packed with people, only a few of whom he knew. He passed by without saying a word. When Mother heard of his arrival, she ran breathlessly down the stairs and the full length of the long corridor and fell sobbing into his arms. Both of them came directly upstairs.
We were told that the same afternoon several men from the Provisional Government appeared to question Father at length.