When Austria's ultimatum to Servia was
published I was at Vichy, in bed with a violent attack of gout.
Durnovo, former Minister of the Interior, was taking the waters
there too. He telegraphed to Sazonov for news as to the position.
The answer was reassuring : " There is no danger. Go on with your
cure."
But the next day, when I sent to the bank for money, they would not
give me any. Payment on letters of credit was suspended. On the same
day our mobilisation was announced and I left for Paris.
On our arrival there we heard the news that war had been declared.
There was not a porter, a cab or a taxi at the station ; it was
pouring with rain ; and my foot was so swollen that I had not been
able to put on my boot and was only wearing a stocking. Luckily I
was not alone. My friend, General Bibikov, and his family were with
me, and somehow or other they managed to get me to the hotel.
I had also been in Paris when war was declared in 1870. The
difference was remarkable. The feeling then was one of the most
frenzied excitement. On this occasion the attitude was admirable.
The war was regarded as a disaster, but it was a disaster that
everybody was resolved to meet calmly, in a spirit worthy of a great
nation, and everybody was quite sincerely preoccupied with one idea
only—to do their duty to their country.
We asked anxiously what was happening in Russia. The last letters
from St. Petersburg were scarcely reassuring. For some time strikes
had been a regular occurrence and disorders had occurred lately in
both capitals.
In spite of our wish to get home as quickly as possible, we had to
remain in Paris for more than a fortnight.
There were no trains to Marseilles nor to the Channel ports, and,
besides, we had no money. It was some days before the banks resumed
payment.
I wonder whether the Parisians, who were certainly kept busier than
we were, for we could do nothing but stand by patiently and look on,
realised how completely Paris was changing from one day to another.
For some time after the declaration of war, it was like a simple
provincial town. The rue de la Paix was almost deserted, and in the
morning staid citizens wearing skull caps and slippers took their
coffee and read their newspapers in the doorways. All men in the
prime of life had disappeared ; there were only old men and children
; every man who was fit was under arms.
I was particularly amused by a group of loafers who hung about
certain stations from morning till evening. At first I thought that
they were just travellers, waiting for tickets ; but to my great
astonishment I discovered that they were expecting nothing more nor
less than the arrival of the Cossacks. Where they were to come from,
and how, nobody knew, but everybody was certain that they might turn
up at any moment.
An old dame told me that a regiment of them had already arrived. She
had seen them with her own eyes.
It is curious how prevalent was the myth of the Cossacks, not only
in France but in England too. People used to talk to me about it in
London, Newcastle and Edinburgh.
In Edinburgh, an officer—I believe he was a major—in spite of my
assertions that it was impossible, assured me that a squadron had
disembarked that very morning. He had seen them " with his own
eyes".
" What did they look like ?"
" They have long, gaily-coloured coats and big fur caps. But they
carry bows and arrows instead of rifles, just like the Zulus."
" They won't get far with those arms."
" We shall equip them. They are said to be very brave and good
horsemen. That's the chief thing."
" What are their horses like ?"
" Rather like Scottish ponies, only bonier."
He had seen all this—probably in the illustrated papers of 1815. At
first I thought he was trying to pull my leg, but no, he was
perfectly serious.
When our troops invaded Prussia the Russians became the heroes of
the day. One was constantly being asked : " When do you think they
will be in Berlin ?"
" Berlin is still a long way off."
"Oh, I know, but approximately? Three, four, five days, a week ?"
At last we got our tickets for Cherbourg. Just as we were leaving I
saw a telegram in my paper mentioning the battle of Kauschen. A
brilliant cavalry charge was mentioned. The third squadron of Horse
Guards had captured a Prussian battery. The paper added : " The pick
of the regiment fell on the field". My son was in command of the
regiment. So you may imagine my joy and my anxiety.
When we got to London we found the papers full of the affair. There
were no details to be had at the Russian Embassy, except that the
Ambassador, Count Benckendorf, had just had a telegram, telling him
that his son, an officer in the Horse Guards, had been severely
wounded. Then I heard from another of my countrymen that his two
nephews, who were in my son's squadron, had been killed.
During the night somebody knocked me up and the whole family of my
friend Bibikov embraced me. A telegram had come in saying that my
son was unhurt and had been decorated with the Order of St. George,
the highest reward for a soldier.
This marked the beginning of his career. Three months later he was
Colonel and Aide-de-camp to the Emperor, then in the course of the
war he became Brigadier-General, Divisional General and Commander of
a Cavalry Corps. When the lawyer Kerensky became Commander-in-Chief
of the Russian armies he was recalled. After the collapse he was
arrested and condemned to death by the Bolsheviks, and it was only
through the courage of his wife that he escaped. Then he joined the
anti-Bolshevist army and was first in command of a big detachment,
later of a division consisting of the Volunteer Army of the
Caucasus, and finally he was made Commander-in-Chief.
In the end, after numerous vicissitudes, we got back to Russia.
The war had brought about a reconciliation between the Czar and his
people. The strikes had ceased and the disturbances were over. The
Sovereign and his people were henceforth united. The Grand Duke
Nicholas, who up to then had been little liked, was suddenly become
popular. To everybody's astonishment, the mobilisation had proceeded
without a hitch. The Opposition in the Duma gave its full support to
the Government. A declaration regarding the autonomy of Poland was
greeted with acclamation both by the Poles and by the Russians.
For some months everything ran perfectly. At St. Petersburg there
was hardly a sign that we were at war. In contrast to what I had
seen in Paris and London, the streets were full of young men, fit
for military service, yet nearly six million men were already
mobilised. There was no restriction on the sale of any kind of
goods. Only a number of halls and large private houses had been
converted into provisional hospitals and many ladies were wearing
Red Cross uniform or mourning ; their number increased day by day.
Our second son, who was medically exempt from military service, had
left for the theatre of war, too, with the Red Cross. In the spring
he came home for a few days, deeply impressed by what he had seen
and full of plans for the future. New horizons had opened out before
him. Up till then he had applied himself entirely to the history of
the arts ; he was now planning out a great historical work which
should trace the whole progress of humanitarian ideas. He would
start on it when the war was over.
Poor boy ! A few days later we had a telegram saying he was dead.
The war of movement soon degenerated into trench warfare. We lacked
arms and ammunition, and having nothing to fight with, the army
rotted in the trenches. The Duma got indignant; members asked
questions. The Government denied the evidence, and, as usual, took
refuge in lies ; it gave the Chamber clearly to understand that it
was meddling in matters with which it had nothing to do. Relations
between the Government and the nation were again strained and became
if possible worse than before. The popularity of the Grand Duke
Nicholas alone survived. He had succeeded in winning the affection
of the troops, and in times of crisis the people look for someone
about whom they can rally, and are prepared to make a popular idol
of anybody, whether he deserves it or not.
In spite of the past, the Intelligentzia and the Government proved
once again that they had learnt nothing and forgotten nothing.
In spite of the war, the Intelligentzia continued, as before, to see
in the revolution the universal panacea for all ills, whilst we
others (for there had been no real Government for some time) sought
the remedy in absolutism. The conflict of views resulted in complete
confusion, leading inevitably to disaster. In such circumstances it
became impossible to bring the war to a successful conclusion. The
Allies understood this and became agitated. The French Ambassador,
Monsieur Paleologue, tried to make His Majesty see the real state of
affairs. The Czar smiled at him in his charming way, agreed to
everything, promised everything and did nothing.
When at last we had arms and ammunition for fighting the supreme
effort was made. Galicia was invaded and Lvov fell. Then, instead of
sending out what was necessary to consolidate our gains—troops and
ammunition—they sent out whole convoys of priests to introduce
Orthodoxy into Galicia, and of tshinovniks, to Russianise the
country.
This strange strategy had certainly not been recommended by the
Grand Duke or by his General Staff.
The conduct of the war was no longer dependent upon the Grand Duke
Nicholas. His views were coming to be regarded as " advanced/' that
is to say, he was one of those whom those in authority considered
harmful and pernicious. Rasputin was hostile to him ; it followed
that the Empress became hostile to him, too, and, as a natural
consequence, the Emperor also.
It was known in the town that Rasputin, whose influence increased
daily, had expressed a wish to visit the theatre of war. But the
Grand Duke did not want him, and he let this be known quietly. The
Empress, who was very obstinate, especially where the holy man was
concerned, wanted to force the Grand Duke's hand, and sent him a
telegram asking him to receive Rasputin. He replied : " Am eagerly
awaiting him. The order to hang him, as soon as he arrives, has been
given."
I don't know whether the story is true, but whether it be true or
not, the Grand Duke was shortly afterwards relieved of his command
and the Emperor himself took his place and left to join the army.
Three years had passed since the beginning of the war and the most
bloody butchery that humanity has ever seen still went on. Hundreds
of thousands of men had been slain, and hundreds of thousands had
been mutilated ; but the fallen were replaced by others and those by
others again . . .
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