News of the declaration of war was received in Petrograd on April 24/12, at 2 p.m. At 5 p.m. the Moscow Douma assembled in the Hotel de Ville. There was immense enthusiasm. The Douma at once offered a million roubles and 1000 beds for the wounded. Cries were heard from different directions. "It was too little, far too little." Then it was decided to consider the sum as a simple beginning. The merchants also met together and the same thing was repeated; also a voluntary donation of a million; 160 ladies offered their services as Sisters of Charity; 100 of them having already passed their examinations. Russia seemed quite revived. "What will England do?" I wrote on that day to Mr. Gladstone. "I know what she would do if you were at the head of the Government. But as it is now—well, we'll do our duty and let happen what may."
England's decision was to do nothing—for the present. In the meantime a great wave of feeling was passing over Russia; yet in England it appeared impossible for people to see that this was not a piece of political jobbery. When I went to Russia at the end of 1876 I despaired of peace; but hoped that the courageous stand made by Mr. Gladstone might after all prevent war.
Those were very dark and gloomy days. We in Russia were victims of all sorts of rumours as to what England intended to do, whilst in England there seemed to be a conviction that whatever Russia might do it would constitute an unfriendly act.
I have been proudly described by my brother Alexander as maintaining a splendid, although a forlorn, struggle in the interests of peace. It may have been splendid, I do not know, but it was certainly forlorn. For a woman to endeavour to keep apart two nations who seemed determined to misunderstand each other, was a folly which, had I been more versed in the ways of the political world, I might have never attempted. Out of my ignorance came my strength; for I dared to hope things at a period when hope was not 'quoted' on the political exchange.
One of the curious anomalies of the situation was that, although Bismarck's policy of getting England embroiled with Russia was not overlooked in Britain, yet everyone seemed to be doing their utmost to assist the Iron Chancellor in his designs.
It was said that Queen Victoria herself was quite aware that Germany was doing all she could to get the British Army to the East so that her hands might be freed in the West, and the very newspapers that called most loudly for war frankly admitted their conviction that Germany had designs on Belgium.
All this puzzled me excessively. With a woman's impatience I felt that I wanted to shake the silly men who would not understand that they were being used as catspaws of the master-mind of Europe.
Bismarck was playing his game as only Bismarck could. How he must have smiled to himself! No words of mine can give the slightest idea of what I suffered in those days. I could not sleep and I could not think. My mind was in a whirl. I felt again the torture which came over me when I heard of Nicholas' death.
In February I wrote from Moscow as one almost distraught: "I would willingly give my life, a very poor gift indeed, for peace."
Soon after the St. James's Hall Conference, as I was passing through Petrograd, I made a point of seeing Prince Gortschakoff: to urge him as well as I could, to do justice to the better part of England.