As yet I know nothing of the effect the Russian revolution has had in France; but I am afraid of the illusions it may create there and it is only too easy for me to guess all the examples with which it is likely to present the socialist jargon-mongers. I have therefore thought it advisable to give my government a word of warning and I am cabling as follows to Briand:
When I said good-bye to M. Doumergue and General de Castelnau last month, I asked them to advise the President of the Republic and yourself of my increasing concern at the internal situation of the Empire; I added that it would be a serious mistake to think that time is working for us, at any rate in Russia; I came to the conclusion that we should expedite our military operations as much as possible.
I am more convinced of that than ever. A few days before the Revolution I advised you that the decisions of the recent conference were already a dead letter, that the confusion in the munitions production establishments and transport services was beginning again on an even more formidable scale, and so forth. The question is whether the new Government is capable of promptly carrying out the necessary reforms. It says, and quite sincerely, that it can but I don't believe a word of it. For it is not merely confusion, but wholesale disorganization and anarchy from which the military and civil departments are suffering.
Taking the most hopeful view I can, what can we expect? A terrible load would be off my mind if I could be certain that the fighting armies will not be contaminated by demagogic agitation and discipline soon restored among the garrisons behind the front. I have not yet abandoned that hope. I can still bring myself to think that the social-democrats will not translate their desire to end the war into irreparable acts. I can also admit the possibility of a revival of patriotic fervour in some parts of the country. But for all that there must be a weakening of the national effort which was only too anaemic and spasmodic already. And the process of recovery is likely to be a long one with a race whose ideas of method and forethought are so rudimentary.
After sending this cable, I went out to see some of the churches: I was curious to know how the faithful would behave at the Sunday mass now that the name of the Emperor has been deleted from public prayers. In the orthodox liturgy divine protection was continually being invoked for the Emperor, Empress, Tsarevitch, and all the imperial family, it was a kind of recurring chorus. By order of the Holy Synod, the prayer for the Sovereigns has been abolished and nothing has taken its place. The churches I visited were the Preobrajensky Cathedral, Saint Simeon and Saint Panteleimon. The same scene met me everywhere; a grave and silent congregation exchanging amazed and melancholy glances. Some of the moujiks looked bewildered and horrified and several had tears in their eyes. Yet even among those who seemed the most moved I could not find one who did not sport a red cockade or armband. They had all been working for the Revolution; all of them were with it, body and soul. But that did not prevent them from shedding tears for their little Father, the Tsar, Tsary batinshka!
Then I called at the Foreign Office.
Miliukov told me that yesterday evening he discussed with his colleagues the formula to be inserted in the coming manifesto of the Provisional Government on the subject of the prosecution of the war and the maintenance of the alliance; he added in a tone of embarrassment:
"I hope to secure the adoption of a form of words which will satisfy you."
"You mean to say you only hope? A hope's no good to me: I want a certainty."
"You may be certain I shall do everything in my power . . . . But you've no idea how difficult our socialists are to handle! And we've got to avoid a rupture with them at any cost. Otherwise, it means civil war!"
"Whatever reasons you may have for going slowly with the hotheads of the Soviet, you must realize that I cannot tolerate any doubt about your determination to continue the alliance and carry on the war."
"Please trust me!"
Miliukov struck me as less optimistic than he was yesterday. The news from Kronstadt, the Baltic Fleet and Sebastopol is bad. To crown all, disorder is spreading at the front; officers have been massacred.
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This afternoon I went for a walk on the Islands, which are more deserted than ever and still snow-bound.
Thinking of my visit to the churches this morning, I mused on the strange inaction of the clergy during the revolution; it has taken no part; is never seen anywhere and has given absolutely no sign of life. This abstention and self-effacement are all the more surprising because there was not one celebration, ceremony or public occasion in which the Church did not occupy the foreground with the splendours of its rites, apparel and singing.
The matter is self-explanatory, and to put that explanation into words I have only to search the pages of this Diary. In the first place the Russian people are not as religious as they appear to be: they are primarily mystics. Their habit of continually crossing themselves, their genuflections, their taste for ritual and processions and craze for ikons and relics are simply an outlet for the demands of their lively imagination. Pierce but a little way into their minds and all one finds is a faith which is vague and hazy, sentimental and dreamy, almost destitute of intellectual and theological elements and always on the verge of sinking into sectarian anarchy. One must also bear in mind the confined and humiliating servitude tsarism has always imposed on the Church, a servitude which made the clergy a kind of spiritual police, to reinforce the military, police. Often enough, during the sumptuous services in the cathedrals of St. Alexander Nevsky or Kazan, I have called to mind Napoleon's remark that "an archbishop is simply a second Prefect of Police!" Nor must one forget the opprobrium brought on the Holy Synod and the episcopal hierarchy in the last few years by Rasputin. The Hermogenes, Varnava, Basily and Pitirim scandals, and many others, had greatly shocked all true believers. When the nation rose in revolt the clergy could do nothing but keep silence. But when the time for reaction arrives, perhaps the country priests, who have remained in touch with the rural masses, will make their voice heard again.
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I was told yesterday that the form of the Emperor's abdication decree was settled by Nicholas Alexandrovitch Basily, formerly Deputy-Director of Sazonov's department and now in charge of the diplomatic section of General Headquarters; the decree is said to have been communicated by telegraph from Pskov to Mohilev on March 15, even before the delegates of the Duma, Gutchkov and Shulgin, had seen the Emperor. It is a point which would be interesting to clear up.
Curiously enough, late this afternoon I had a visit from Basily whom General Alexeïev has sent to the Provisional Government on some mission.
"Hallo!" I said: "I understand it's you who drafted the Emperor's abdication decree?"
He started,, and protested vigorously: "I absolutely deny the paternity of the document the Emperor signed. The draft I prepared on General Alexeïev's orders was very different."
What he told me was this:
"In the morning of the 14th March General Alexeïev received from President. Rodzianko, a telegram informing him that the machinery of government had ceased to function in Petrograd and the only means of averting anarchy was to secure the Emperor's abdication in favour of his son. The Chief of Staff of the Imperial Armies was thus faced with a dreadful problem. Would not the Tsar's abdication threaten the army with divisions, if not disruption? The only thing to do was to get all the military heads to agree at once on one course. General Russky, commanding the northern armies, had already pronounced strongly in favour of immediate abdication. General Alexeïev personally inclined to that view; but the matter was so serious that he thought it his duty to consult all the other Army Group commanders by telegraph, Generals Evert, Brussilov, and Sakharov and the Grand Duke Nicholas Nicholaïevitch. They all replied that the Emperor should abdicate at the earliest possible moment."
"On which day did all these replies come into General Alexeïev?"
"During the morning of March 15th. It was then that General Alexeïev instructed me to report to him on the circumstances in which the fundamental status of the Empire authorized the Tsar to lay down his sceptre. I was not long in furnishing him with a memorandum explaining and proving that if the Emperor abdicated he was obliged to hand over his powers to his legitimate heir, the Tsarevitch Alexis. 'That's exactly what I thought,' the General said to me. 'Will you draft me a proclamation on those lines at once?' I soon produced a draft in which I expounded the theory of my memorandum to the best of my ability while endeavouring to keep the necessity of prosecuting the war to victory persistently in the foreground. The Chief of Staff had with him his principal colleague and loyal Quartermaster, General Lukomsky. I handed him my document. He read it aloud and agreed with every word. Lukomsky also approved of it. The document was immediately telegraphed to Pskov to be laid before the Emperor. A little before midnight on the same day, General Danilov, Quartermaster-General of the northern armies called his colleague at G.H.Q. to the tapemachine to tell him of His Majesty's decision. I happened at that moment to be in Lukorusky's room, with the Grand Duke Sergei Michailovitch. We all rushed to the telegraph office and the machine began to work before our eyes. I immediately recognized my draft on the tape as it came out.
. . . To all Our faithful subjects We make known. . . in these days of fierce conflict with the foreign foe, etc. But you can just imagine the amazement of all three of us when we observed that the name of the Grand Duke Michael had been substituted for that of the Tsarevitch Alexis! We looked at each other in blank consternation for the same idea entered all our heads. The immediate accession of the Tsarevitch was the only means of stopping the revolution in its career, or at any rate keeping it within the limits of a great constitutional reform. In the first place, the young Alexis Nicholaïevitch would have had the law on his side. He would also have benefited by the sympathetic feeling of the nation and army towards him. Lastly---and this was the vital point---the imperial office would not have been vacant even for a moment. If the Tsarevitch had been proclaimed, no one would have had the authority to make him abdicate. What has happened to the Grand Duke Michael would not have been possible in the case of this boy. There might have been some wrangling over the appointment of the regent, but that's all. Russia would have a national head . . . But where are we now?"
"I'm sorry to say that I fear events will prove you right before very long . . . When the Emperor deleted his son's name from the proclamation you drafted for him he launched Russia on a terrible adventure."
After discussing this topic for some considerable time, I asked Basily:
"Have you seen the Emperor since his abdication?"
"Yes. On the 16th March, when the Emperor was returning from Pskov to Mohilev, General Alexeïev sent me to tell him how the situation was developing. I met his train at Orcha and went straight to his coach. He was absolutely calm, but it shocked me to see him. with a haggard look and hollow eyes. After telling him of the latest happenings in Petrograd, I took the liberty of saying that we at the Stavka were greatly distressed because he had not transferred his crown to the Tsarevitch. He answered quietly: 'I cannot be separated from my son.' I learned afterwards from his escort that before the Emperor came to his decision he had consulted his physician Professor Feodorov: 'I order you to give me a frank answer,' he had said. 'Do you think it possible that Alexis can ever get better?' 'No, Your Majesty, his disease is incurable.' 'That's what the Empress thought long ago, though I myself still had hopes. As God has willed it thus I shall not separate myself from my poor boy!' A few minutes later dinner was served. It was a melancholy meal. All of us felt our hearts bursting; we couldn't cat or drink. Yet the Emperor retained wonderful self-control and asked me several questions about the men who form the Provisional Government; but as he was wearing a rather low collar I could see that he was continually choking down his emotion. I left him yesterday morning at Mohilev."
The revolution moved me with an absolute force that takes hold of personality, of an individual human, of his being, surging through the borders of imagination and bursting into the most intimate world of images, which themselves become part of the revolution…
A significant day for Yasnaya Polyana. Bearing red flags and badges, workers from the iron foundry arrived from Kosaya Gora to pay their respects to Tolstoy’s house and window. Armed with Lev Nikolayevich’s portrait, they braved the deep snow and biting wind to visit his grave, with my two Tatyanas following suit. The workers sang songs and made speeches about freedom. In response, I made a brief speech of my own on the subject of L.N’s legacy. They sang “Eternal Memory” and took graveside photographs.
One newspaper critic has become so drunk with revolution that he has suggested to blow up the monument to Alexander III. Before he used to vilify young art in his newspaper.
Autocracy has bit the dust. It expired quietly, almost imperceptibly, without a fight, without clinging to life—it did not even try to resist death. Only the very old, thoroughly exhausted organisms, die this way; they are not sick, nothing special has happened to them, but the body is worn out, and they are not able to live anymore. The firewood has burnt, the fire has gone out. “He died of weakness,” the people say. See more
I would like to say what I think about Kerensky. He is an unprincipled man, who changes his convictions, does not think deeply and is extremely superficial. His empty, semi-hysterical speeches don't correspond with his inner disposition. I boldly declare that no one has done as much harm to Russia as Kerensky. He is two-faced and always flirts with all political movements. Having no will power, he patronises the Bolsheviks!
We must be on our way. Every minute is precious. But how do we get into Russia? The imperialist massacre has reached its apogee; chauvinistic passions rage with all their might. Here in Switzerland, we’re cut off from all the warring states. Vladimir Ilyich is concocting ever more unworkable plans. These include: getting to Russia by aeroplane (just a few missing pieces in this jigsaw: the aeroplane itself, the requisite funds, official permission to make the trip, etc.); getting there via Sweden on the passports of two deaf-mutes (alas, we don’t speak a word of Swedish); securing passage in exchange for the release of German POWs; getting there via London; and so on and so forth. See more
The Austrian people suffer greatly. There is a shortage of the most rudimentary supplies. There is no milk anymore. The children die like flies. Tuberculosis is eating at Germany and Austria. The cities are in a dire state. Poverty is even felt in how people are dressed—everything is patched and ragged. Citizens of Berlin and Leipzig are the worst off. Hungary does not suffer at all, thanks to its rich resources. The uneven distribution of food leads to envy and enmity among various provinces. The Holy Alliance of two nations of Austria-Hungary, which impressed the Allies during the first years of the war, no longer exists.
The Russian revolution cannot but affect the whole of Europe; it will stir up the peoples of Europe and cause their stagnant blood to circulate more quickly. But heaven forbid the example we set for European peoples from becoming one of anarchy and spontaneous decay.
General Alexeev asks us to assemble in the main hall of the Mogilev headquarters. Nicky wants to address his former general staff with a farewell speech. By 11 o'clock the hall is full: generals, staff and company officers, and people from the retinue. Nicky enters, calm, composed, with something akin to a smile on his lips. He thanks his general staff and asks everyone to continue their work "with the same assiduousness and self-sacrifice." See more
In one of the Foot Guards regiments people refused to remove the insignia of Nicholas II from their epaulets. For both regiments, I have instructed that those who did not wish to take the oath were allowed to not participate in the ceremony; those who wanted to leave the emperor’s insignia on their epaulets, received permission to do so.