At first we had no news from our relatives. But we were pleasantly surprised when several letters came to Father and to Tatiana from Aunt Xenia at Ai-Todor in the Crimea. The letters giving us news of the family were the only joy we had had since our arrest. Our mail was censored and parts of the letters we received were inked out.
Probably Aunt Xenia found our letters dry and uninteresting. But we wrote them reluctantly, as in a daze—we so strongly felt the blow of the happenings in our country and to its people. The shock was so great that no outsider ever will know the feeling unless he lives through a similar experience, that is, if he loved his country. We were glad Granny was there too. It was her first stay in the Crimea since the death of her husband, Alexander III. We had been wanting to write to them but we feared repercussions.
For months we waited for a reply to our letters which we were obliged to leave unsealed for censorship. We hoped that our coming departure would take us to the Crimea to be together with the rest of the family. Father hungrily read the newspapers, even though the ones he received had been thoroughly censored, parts of them inked out. All too often the papers were withheld altogether. Father read every word carefully to find some clue to the real truth. One of our best sources of information came from the various members of our household. Before long they too no longer were free to leave the palace. All around our home there was a strong guard posted, especially in the small garden in front of Mother’s windows and the garden gate across from the Znamensky Cathedral, which was the closest to Mother’s balcony. She was very much disturbed, having these men watch her windows; she never could look out. During this time we saw some one drive in and out of the courtyard in Father’s favorite automobile, a Packard sledge (sleigh). Kerensky of course often used our private cars, chauffeurs, and even our valuable horses.
After midnight another unpleasant incident occurred. Several uncouth revolutionists, headed by a Pole named Mstislavsky, came from Petrograd. They proceeded to show their thievish authority by ordering the telephone and telegraph lines from the outside disconnected. After a great deal of bickering and fighting with the guards, who would not let them enter the grounds, Mstislavsky broke down the gate with his heavy artillery trucks. It caused such a noise that a large number of persons collected on the avenue and loud voices were heard from the angry crowd. This noise awakened the household. The bandits forced themselves towards and into the palace, in spite of everything. They were armed and threatened the officers on duty, “Shoot us, or we will shoot you.” Count Benckendorff and Prince Dolgorukov came down and told Mstislavsky and his companions that it was impossible for them to talk to the Emperor. The intruders were asked to produce the required permit from General Kornilov, commanding the troops in the area at this time. The officers on duty then said, “You arrest us, or we will arrest you.” Notwithstanding, the bandits went upstairs to the gallery room. There they encountered Father who was walking toward them. Without a word the bandits ran away in terror.
Kerensky was held responsible for this incident, having revealed to Mstislavsky the anticipated departure of the Imperial family for England via Murmansk.
Subsequently we heard that Mstislavsky ordered many innocent families shot, people who were in his way; also he and his friends seized from them anything to their liking.
We shortly learned that all escape routes were already blocked.
Korovichenko’s transfer lifted our hopes. His place was filled by Colonel Eugene Kobylinsky, an officer of the Imperial Guard. We were thankful to General Kornilov for sending this wonderful man, who served my family faithfully in spite of many dangers to his own life. He was sincerely anxious to alleviate our condition and was determined to save us. But with many hundreds of men in our guard he was helpless, as any action of his would have drawn suspicion upon him. He went with us to Tobolsk and stayed there until four days before our departure, when he became dangerously ill. Consequently, we did not see this kind man again before we left for Ekaterinburg. Another well-disposed man was Commissar Makarov, a very intelligent and cultured person with a great deal of tact and knowledge of several languages.
He had a prison record for having killed a policeman. For this, this fine looking man paid fifteen years of his young life before he was released. He accepted his punishment as having been deserved. His imprisonment had not embittered him, and his gentle, kind manners had not changed.
Many of the guards we had known from our childhood. Whenever possible Colonel Kobylinsky tried to have these men accompany us during our walks, as these guards could not tolerate an abusive attitude of others toward us. Nevertheless, he did not dare to defend us. By this time the Provisional Government had become convinced that Father had no intention of making trouble for them. Father eagerly followed the course of the war and grieved at the way it was going. If only he could have now had a part in it, even as a private!