If one is to believe all that one hears, it seems that it was General Alexieieff, together with General Roussky and a few socialist leaders, who insisted on the provisional government ordering the arrest of the former Czar and of his Consort. They represented to Mr. Miliukoff and to his colleagues, that it would be the height of imprudence to allow the Empress to remain at liberty and able to go on intriguing, as was her wont, against the new administration. On the other hand sending the Imperial family immediately abroad had also its inconveniences, because their presence in Denmark or in England would only have been a cause of embarrassment to the Allies. Then again, the hatred of the population of Petrograd for Alexandra Feodorovna had reached such immense proportions that it was feared it would give way to excesses against her, and even attempts to murder her, if some kind of satisfaction were not given to its incensed feelings in respect to a woman who was considered everywhere in the light of the worst of traitors. For this reason or for another, it is not quite clear, but most likely because of the representations made by Roussky and by Alexieieff, the Executive Committee of the Duma, which was then the highest authority in Russia, decided to arrest Nicholas II. together with his Consort.
Four members of the Duma, Messrs. Boublikoff, Gribounine, Verschinine and Kalinine, were commanded to repair to Mohilew, and to signify to the ex-Emperor the decision of the government. It seems that what had hastened it had been the discovery of a correspondence between the Empress and Protopopoff, which the latter, in abject fear for his life, had himself given up to the Duma, hoping that he would thus be able to drive away from his own person the responsibility for the conspiracy which had been going on at Tsarskoie Selo, under the plea that he had been compelled to obey the orders which had been given to him. Apart from this correspondence, other things had come to light; amongst others the part that a Thibetan doctor, who had been a friend of Rasputin, and whom Madame Vyroubieva had introduced to the Empress, had played in the private life of the Imperial pair. It seems that he had given to Alexandra Feodorovna certain drinks and drugs, which, unknown to him, she had administered to Nicholas II., with the result that the latter had been completely stupefied, and had become a tool in the hands of his enterprising wife. The fact sounds incredible, and I would not have mentioned it here had it not been that young Prince Youssoupoff, one of those who had executed Rasputin, publicly spoke about it during an interview which after his return to Petrograd from the exile whither he had been sent by the Czar, he awarded to a correspondent of the Vovoie Vremia, where the account of it was published. Both these incidents gave a free hand to those who, from the very first day of the Revolution, had insisted upon the Empress being put under restraint, and once this measure was adopted, it was hardly possible not to extend it also to Nicholas II.
The Commissioners started on March 20th for Mohilew. General Alexieieff had been privately informed as to the reason of their arriving there, and, unknown to others, gave orders for the Emperor’s train to be prepared to carry him away at a moment’s notice. At four o’clock of the afternoon of March 21st, the Commissioners reached their destination, and they sent at once for the General, with whom they held a conference of about twenty minutes. He assured them that he had already made full preparation for the departure of the Monarch. They asked him for a list of the people in attendance on the latter, and noticing thereon the name of Admiral Niloff, who was considered to be one of the staunchest supporters of the Empress, they said at once that he could not travel in the Imperial train, and sent for him to acquaint him with the fact. Niloff asked only if he was to consider himself as being under arrest, but the commissioners assured him that they had received no orders to that effect.
Whilst this was going on, Nicholas II. was lunching with his mother in the latter’s special train, which all the time of her stay in Mohilew had remained at the station, and which she had not left during these days. General Alexieieff was the one who took it upon himself to tell the Czar that he had been made a prisoner. He boarded the train of the Empress, pushed himself most unceremoniously into the carriage where she was sitting with her son, and acquainted the latter with his fate. Neither the deposed Sovereign nor the widowed Empress said a word. She simply got up and went to the window. She saw a crowd of people standing around her train, and the one that was about to carry away her son, then she turned back, and folded him in one long embrace. Speech was impossible to either of them and Marie Feodorovna remained tearless all through this tragedy.
On the platform were standing several officers who had formerly been attached to the person of the Emperor, whilst he had been in command of the army. They were waiting to say good-bye to their former chief. A guard, no longer of honour alas! was also standing at the door of the railway compartment assigned to him, who a few days before had been the Czar of All the Russias, together with the commissioners of the Duma, into whose hands Alexieieff delivered his prisoner. Nicholas II. passed on from his mother’s train to his own. Every head was uncovered; he spoke to no one, and no one spoke. A silence akin to that of the grave prevailed. Standing at the window of her carriage could be seen the figure of the Empress Marie watching this sad departure. A few minutes later the train started on its mournful journey. Another act in this drama had come to an end.
Whilst this was going on at Mohilew, the officer in command of the garrison of Petrograd, General Korniloff, had repaired to Tsarskoie Selo. From the station he telephoned to Count Benckendorff, the head of the Imperial household, asking him when he could see the Empress. The Count asked him to wait a few minutes at the instrument, and then told him that Alexandra Feodorovna would be ready to receive him in half an hour. At the appointed time the General was introduced into the presence of the Sovereign who entered the room dressed in deep black, but as haughty as ever, and asked him in ironical tones to what she was indebted for the honour of his visit. Korniloff got up, and briefly communicated to her the decision of the government in respect to her person, and warned her that the Palace would be strictly watched, and all communications between her and the outside world forbidden. The Empress then enquired whether her personal servants and those of her children would be left to her, and after having been reassured as to that point, she withdrew as impassible as ever, though strong hysterics seized her as soon as she was once more alone in her private apartments.
The guard in charge of the Palace was changed; the telephone and private post and telegraph office were taken over by a staff which General Korniloff had brought over with him from Petrograd, and the Empress was informed that she could not leave her rooms, even for a walk, without the permission of the officer in charge of the troops quartered in the Imperial residence. Though no orders had been issued in regard to her personal attendants, yet the proud Princess was to find that most of them had left her of their own accord. Her children were all ill with a severe attack of measles, but this did not prevent the salaried domestics who up to that moment had been so happy and eager to be allowed the privilege of serving her, deserting her in the hour of her need. The few friends she thought she could rely upon were in prison. She was alone, all alone; and so she was to remain until the end. The devotion with which Marie Antoinette was surrounded during the tragedy of her existence was not known by Alexandra Feodorovna in the drama of her life. She had made far too many enemies during the time of her splendour and prosperity to find any one willing to cheer and comfort her in the hour of her misfortune.
And the next day her husband was brought back to that Palace of Tsarskoie Selo they had both liked so much, brought back a prisoner to find her captive. What did she think when she saw him again? Did she realise at last all the evil which she had done, all the misery, which, thanks to her influence, had overtaken the Emperor whose crown she had shared? How did she feel in presence of this catastrophe, of this wreck of all her ambitions, plans and hopes? Outwardly she made no sign that she understood the full significance of the events that had swallowed her up in their depths, together with her pride and haughtiness. She only manifested some emotion when told that the body of Rasputin had been exhumed and burned publicly by exasperated crowds. Otherwise she remained silent and if not resigned at least disdainful, even when she was subjected to a close interrogation by General Korniloff, who was deputed to examine her as to certain points in the correspondence which Mr. Protopopoff had surrendered to the Duma. She denied to every one the right to question her; she proudly refused to reply to the demands addressed to her, and it was only when she was alone in her rooms that she used to give way to terrible fits of despair at the loss of that grandeur by which her head had been turned. Her children were so ill that they could not even be told of the change that had taken place in their existences and destinies. Her husband was too much crushed by the weight of all the calamities which had fallen upon him to be able to comfort her in any way. Her friends had left her, her attendants had forsaken her, her family had abandoned her.... And it was thus, amidst the stillness of sorrow and of anxiety, that the curtain was to fall upon the tragedy of Nicholas II. and of Alexandra Feodorovna, or at least upon one of its principal acts....