At midnight of the 13th August Kerensky came to the palace, assembled the soldiers who had been selected to escort the family, and made them a speech. “You have guarded the Tsar’s family here,” he said, “you also will have to guard them in the new place where they are going by order of the Council of Ministers. Remember, one does not hit a man who is down. Bear yourselves like men, not like cads.”
He then entered the palace. The ex-Tsar’s only brother, the Grand Duke Michael, had been permitted to come to say good-bye. Kerensky gave him ten minutes with Nicholas, remaining in the room with them. The brothers were never to meet again. Michael did not see any other member of the family.
Learning that the Tsar’s family was to be removed from Tsarskoe-Selo the men employed at the railway station refused to let out the engine. All night the exiles waited for the train. It came at six o’clock in the morning.
CHAPTER VI
EXILE IN SIBERIA
The period between autumn, 1917, and the following spring furnishes much material for this tragic history. It was during their exile in Siberia that the fate of the Romanovs was decided—not in the Urals. It was at Tobolsk, in the close intimacy that misfortune naturally brings, that the true character of each captive, high and low, asserted itself. Thus, invaluable data has been obtained for the historian.
At first the captives enjoyed the respite of remoteness from the storm centre of Petrograd. But many circumstances gradually impaired this advantage. They began to suffer privations even before the Reds captured the government. The remittances promised by Kerensky did not arrive. After the Bolshevist usurpation, the captives were allowed starvation rations, and had to eke out their livelihood by needlework, drawings, etc. Then the boy fell ill with one of his periodical attacks, aggravated by the exhausting effects of the Siberian winter and inadequate diet.
At Tobolsk Alexandra showed herself to be strong, brave, gentle. Adversity seemed to bring out all that was best in her nature. Yet here the family physician, who had followed them into exile and afterwards shared their fate in Ekaterinburg, became entirely convinced that she was not quite normal. It required only a chance remark on political topics to provoke a hysterical outburst. As usual, she could see nothing bad in the peasants, even when the peasant soldiers of the guard were constantly behaving “like cads”—despite Kerensky’s exhortations.
Nicholas sawed wood and gave lessons to the children. Indeed, with the help of Mr. Sidney Gibbes and M. Gilliard and other teachers, they were making up for time lost in their education.
With so many and such powerful influences interested in their existence, it was only to be expected that efforts would be made to enter into communication with the exiled monarchs. Each of the parties then fighting for power in Russia had its spies and emissaries in Tobolsk. It is certain that the Germans were represented in many ways. It is equally certain that the Entente had nobody. The talk of a rescue by some bold Englishman ascending the Ob and Irtysh from the Arctic Ocean and wafting away the prisoners is not only unfounded, it is the merest moonshine. Winter in Siberia lasts seven months, during which time there is no means of reaching the northern shores except on sleighs. Any attempt to enter or leave the country would have been easily discovered and notified by telegraph, which was wholly in the hands of the Soviets.
One comfort was not denied to the captives—they sent and received letters, in some cases without censorship. They were also able to get newspapers and other literature. Thus they were in touch with the happenings of the outer world. These did not bring them much consolation, it must be admitted. Nicholas never recovered from the blow of learning in this manner of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Up to that time he had, in spite of everything, kept alive some hope for the future of his country. Thenceforth he was a man without hope, and all that happened afterwards left him indifferent. If he could have died without causing pain to his wife and children, he would have died gladly, unable to live down the stain of dishonour.