ALEXIS NICOLAÏEVITCH JOINS HIS SISTER, THE GRAND-DUCHESS TATIANA.
were allowed to go into the town or immediate surroundings.
In September Commissary Pankratof arrived at Tobolsk, having been sent by Kerensky. He was accompanied by his deputy, Nikolsky—like himself, an old political exile. Pankratof was quite a well-informed man, of gentle character, the typical enlightened fanatic. He made a good impression on the Czar and subsequently became attached to the children. But Nikolsky was a low type, whose conduct was most brutal. Narrow and stubborn, he applied his whole mind to the daily invention of fresh annoyances. Immediately after his arrival he demanded of Colonel Kobylinsky that we should be forced to have our photographs taken. When the latter objected that this was superfluous, since all the soldiers knew us—they were the same as had guarded us at Tsarskoïe-Selo—he replied: “It was forced on us in the old days, now it’s their turn.” It had to be done, and henceforward we had to carry our identity cards with a photograph and identity number.
The religious services were at first held in the house, in the large hall on the first floor. The priest of the Church of the Annunciation, his deacon, and four nuns from the Yvanovsky Convent, were authorised to attend the services. As, however, there was no consecrated altar, it was impossible to celebrate Mass. This was a great privation for the family. Finally, on September 21st, the festival of the Nativity of the Virgin, the prisoners were allowed for the first time to go to the church. This pleased them greatly, but the consolation was only to be repeated very rarely. On these occasions we rose very early and, when everyone had collected in the yard, went out through a little gate leading on to the public garden, which we crossed between two lines of soldiers. We always attended the first Mass of the morning, and were almost alone in the church, which was dimly lighted by a few candles; the public was rigorously excluded. While going and returning I have often seen people cross themselves or fall on their knees as Their Majesties passed. On the whole, the inhabitants of Tobolsk were still very attached to the Imperial family, and our guards had repeatedly to intervene to prevent them standing under the windows or removing their hats and crossing themselves as they passed the house.
Meanwhile our life gradually settled down along definite lines, and by mobilising all our resources we managed to resume the education of the Czarevitch and two youngest Grand-Duchesses. The lessons began at nine o’clock, and were broken off from eleven to twelve for a walk, which was always shared by the Czar. As there was no schoolroom, the lessons were given sometimes in the large hall on the first floor, sometimes in Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s room or mine. I lived on the ground floor in what had been the Governor’s study. At one o’clock we all assembled for lunch. The Czarina, when she was not well, often took her meals in her own apartments with Alexis Nicolaïevitch. About two o’clock we used to go out again and walk about or play until four.
The Czar was suffering a great deal from lack of physical exercise. Colonel Kobylinsky, to whom he complained of this, had beech-trunks brought and bought some saws and axes, and we were able to cut the wood we required for the kitchen and stoves. This was one of our great outdoor distractions during our captivity at Tobolsk, even the Grand-Duchesses becoming very keen on this new pastime.
After tea, lessons were resumed until about half-past six. Dinner was an hour later, after which we went up to the large hall for coffee. We had all been invited to spend the evening with the family, and this soon became a regular habit for several of us. Games were organised and ingenuity shown in finding amusements to break the monotony of our captivity. When it began to get very cold, and the large hall became impossible, we took refuge in the adjoining room, which was Their Majesties’ drawing-room, the only really comfortable apartment in the house. The Czar would often read aloud while the Grand-Duchesses did needlework or played with us. The Czarina regularly played one or two games of bezique with General Tatichtchef and then took up her work or reclined in her arm-chair. In this atmosphere of family peace we passed the long winter evenings, lost in the immensity of distant Siberia.
One of the greatest privations during our captivity at Tobolsk was the almost complete absence of news. Letters only reached us very irregularly and after long delay. As for newspapers, we were reduced to a nasty local rag printed on packing paper, which only gave us telegrams several days old and generally distorted and cut down.