The German envoy to Copenhagen, Count Ulrich von Brockdorff-Rantzau, passed the Kaiser’s telegraphed response to the King two days later. Christian was surprisingly accepting: he thanked Wilhelm for the ‘human understanding’ he had shown for ‘the fate of my unhappy relatives … from the bottom of his heart’. ‘I am convinced,’ he told the Kaiser, ‘that regarding this matter you would always be prepared to do everything in your power, but I also understand the important reasons that at present prevent you from undertaking anything in this matter.’ He would, meanwhile, do his best to take up Wilhelm’s suggestion.25
It has to be emphasised that Christian’s primary concern was still his aunt in Crimea, and although his efforts for the Imperial Family in Tobolsk might have been put on hold after Wilhelm’s reassurance, those for Dagmar continued. In April, Christian and Prince Valdemar sent a secret telegram to Scavenius in Petrograd asking him to try and organise the urgent evacuation of Dagmar and her other Romanov relatives, now incarcerated together at a villa at Djulber, across the Black Sea from Yalta, to Constanza in Romania, and 60,000 rubles were set aside for this purpose.26 Behind the scenes there had been no let-up in Harald Scavenius’s efforts on behalf of the various members of the Romanov family. In Petrograd he had acted swiftly after Grand Duke Mikhail’s arrest, to arrange the secret evacuation of his seven-year-old son George to safety. Scavenius was closely involved in humanitarian work with POWs and managed to smuggle young George and his English nanny, Miss Neame, onto a train repatriating German prisoners of war to Germany, now that hostilities had ceased. Posing as mother and son on false passports, and accompanied by a Danish officer, on 25 April they left Petrograd by train and reached the safety of the Danish embassy in Berlin. The Kaiser was fully aware of the rescue and turned a blind eye to the fact that Miss Neame was an enemy alien, allowing her and George to be taken on to Copenhagen. In 1919, after staying for some time at the Danish royal family’s Sorgenfri Palace, George settled in England.27
* * *
Since the end of 1917 the Bolsheviks had been aware of rumours – probably circulated by Boris Solovev and Father Vasiliev – about the mythical ‘300 officers’ at Tobolsk who were plotting to free the Romanov family. It had no doubt prompted the arrest of Mikhail, and a closer guard over the Romanovs held in Crimea and Tobolsk. Wild talk was circulating in Petrograd that Nicholas – and even some of his family – had made their escape from the Governor’s House. In response, the Council of People’s Commissars had, as early as 29 January 1918, minuted the transfer of Nicholas back to Petrograd for trial, as a topic for urgent discussion.28
People’s Commissar of Justice, Isaac Steinberg, recalled that three weeks later – when the Germans had resumed their advance on Russia after the Brest-Litovsk talks had temporarily stalled – the subject was raised again. On 20 February ‘Representatives of the Peasant Congress appeared at a session of the Commissars,’ he wrote, ‘and introduced a motion demanding that the czarist family be brought back from Tobolsk … for public trial’, arguing that such an act would be a morale-booster at this time of a renewed German threat.29 It would be Steinberg’s task to ‘plan and stage this grandiose spectacle of right and retribution’, but he argued vigorously against the idea:
The monarchy was no longer a live issue with the people, and … a trial of the former Czar – however solemn and theatrical – would add neither joy nor courage … I warned that the Czar’s long transport from Siberia might tempt the lynch-justice of fanatics or self-styled revolutionaries.30
All eyes in the room turned to Lenin, who – to Steinberg’s surprise – agreed, saying that he ‘doubted the timeliness of such a trial, that the masses were too preoccupied with other concerns, and that it would be well to postpone the matter’. Nevertheless, Steinberg was instructed to prepare the ‘pertinent documents for future use’. That night, however, ‘the issue was waived’ and he was ordered, ‘Do not pre-assign a place for the trial of Nicholas Romanov as yet.’ Days later, Steinberg, as a member of the Socialist Revolutionary party who opposed the Brest-Litovsk Treaty, resigned in protest at his government’s capitulation to Germany.31
In Tobolsk, persistent talk of monarchist plots continued to unsettle the local Soviet, prompting a flurry of telegrams to the Council of People’s Commissars about their concerns. In response to the heightened danger of an attempted escape, and seeing monarchist conspiracies everywhere, hardline Bolsheviks were gathering in the town in anticipation of taking matters into their own hands.32 Such were their fears of an escape that militant groups of local workers were monitoring all road and river routes out of Tobolsk – north downriver to Obdorsk, and south-east through Ishim and Tyumen province. Other workers had come out from Ekaterinburg to bar the roads from Tobolsk to Tyumen. At the village of Goloputovskoe, a cell of officers plotting to help the Romanovs were uncovered and summarily killed. All over the Tobolsk region rival bands of Bolshevik loyalists were lurking in an effort to winkle out potential monarchist liberators.33 There was even talk in the Tobolsk Soviet of transferring the Romanovs and their entourage ‘up the “mountain” to the prison’ – the notorious Prison Castle inside the Kremlin on the hilltop overlooking the city, which had been used for incarcerating political prisoners under tsarism – and preparations were made to take them there.34 With recent lapses in vigilance by the guards at the Governor’s House, it is not surprising things came to a head. A telegram was sent to Lenin in Moscow by the Western Siberian Soviet about the security there, insisting that the present guard had become hostile and unmanageable. They were disloyal and should be replaced by Red Army guards sent by their own Soviet from Omsk. Extremists in the Ural Regional Soviet were equally eager to take control of the Imperial Family and transfer them to their own stronghold at Ekaterinburg – at that time ‘perhaps the most vehemently Bolshevik spot in Russia’.35
* * *
On 23 March the prisoners at the Governor’s House on Freedom Street were greeted by the one thing they had all been dreading: ‘A detachment of over a hundred Red Guards has arrived from Omsk,’ Pierre Gilliard noted in his diary. ‘They are the first Maximalist [Bolshevik] soldiers to take up garrison duty at Tobolsk.’ It was a bleak moment for everyone: ‘Our last chance of escape has been snatched from us.’36 The commissar accompanying this new contingent insisted on inspecting the Governor’s House, and on 30th he ordered that all the members of the entourage living in the Kornilov House across the street – bar the two doctors, Derevenko and Botkin – move in with the family, so that they could keep a better eye on them all. More alarming, however, was the announcement, under orders from Moscow, that four of the entourage – Tatishchev, Dolgorukov and the two ladies-in-waiting, Anastasia Hendrikova and Ekaterina Schneider – were now under arrest, along with the family, no doubt on suspicion of passing messages in and out and of colluding with the monarchists.37 Numerous other petty restrictions were being enforced at the house: the family’s recreation periods outside in the yard were shortened and the servants were no longer allowed to move freely around the town. Worse, with the last of Kobylinsky’s more sympathetic contingent of guards being sent away at the end of their term of duty – some of whom came to the Romanovs secretly in their rooms to say goodbye – the prisoners were increasingly deprived of what little moral support they had from their captors.
Soon a group of 400 Red Guards from Ekaterinburg arrived in town, intent on gaining supremacy over the Omsk contingent and control of the Governor’s House. They proceeded to terrorise the locals and intimidate the guards at the house.38 Nicholas noted in his diary on 10 April: ‘By nightfall the guard had been doubled, the patrols reinforced and sentries posted in the street. There was talk of some passing danger for us in this house and the need to move to the archbishop’s house on the hill.’39 Tension was riding high throughout the city, particularly now that the local Soviet had been taken over by the Bolsheviks, following elections in April. By the middle of the month, the situation was so volatile that there was a dange
r of armed clashes breaking out between these aggressive rival groups. Fearing that monarchists would try to liberate the Imperial Family, they were repeatedly demanding that they should assume custody of the Romanovs.40
Meanwhile, in Moscow on 1 April a decision was made to deal with the rivalry between the Omsk and Ekaterinburg Red Guards by sending a supplementary detachment of 200 men to Tobolsk, specially selected by the Central Executive Committee ‘to increase the watch over the prisoners … reinforce the guards, and, should the possibility arise, to immediately transport all the arrested to Moscow’.41 It was signed by Yakov Sverdlov, who, as Lenin’s right-hand man, was now taking executive control of the Romanovs. Sverdlov, who had worked as a political agitator in the Urals during the 1905 Revolution, liaised directly with the Bolsheviks of Ekaterinburg and Omsk, informing them about the ‘Special Purpose Detachment’ that Moscow was now sending to secure the ‘transfer of all the arrested’. However, in the space of five days the Central Executive Committee changed its mind about a transfer to Moscow, and Sverdlov sent word that the family was to be sent ‘to the Urals’ for the time being. This may well have been a response to pressure from the Ekaterinburg and Omsk militants who, mistrustful that a transfer to Moscow might lead to the Romanovs being allowed into exile, were insistent that they remain in the Urals, where they could keep an eye on them.42
Sverdlov was adamant, however, in choosing his own man to command the special detachment about to be sent from Moscow. His party name was Vasily Yakovlev, though his real name was Konstantin Myachin, and he had grown up at Ufa in Western Siberia. From 1905 he had become well known to Sverdlov and Lenin as a party worker, and his loyalty and ruthlessness were undoubted: ‘Starting with my first speech, bullet and a soaped rope dogged my heels,’ Yakovlev wrote in his later biographical notes.43 Under constant threat of arrest for his seditious activities, involving expropriations, terror, sabotage and murder, he fled Russia in 1909 and lived in Brussels, before moving to Canada. He returned to Russia after the February Revolution and resumed his work for the party in the Urals, based in his home town, and came to know Tobolsk and Ekaterinburg well. On returning to Moscow in early 1918 he became the Bolshevik commissar responsible for the telegraph and telephone stations and was a founder member of the Cheka (Secret Police).44 In the spring of 1918, and now promoted to the Central Executive Committee, Yakovlev was unexpectedly called in to see Sverdlov. Trusting implicitly to Yakovlev as a dedicated party man, Sverdlov informed him that he would be left entirely to his own initiative, but must deliver the Romanovs alive to their ultimate destination, whatever location was finally decided upon.45
A Central Executive Committee memorandum of 6 April confirmed the decision to transfer ‘all those under arrest’ to the Urals, and in an additional handwritten directive to Alexander Beloborodov, chair of the Ural Regional Soviet, on 9 April, Sverdlov sent confirmation that it was Yakovlev’s task to ‘settle [Nicholas] in Yekaterinburg for now’.46 This was a provisional arrangement, pending an eventual transfer of Nicholas to Moscow for a public trial, but Sverdlov did not make that explicit at the time. For now, Yakovlev was to personally deliver Nicholas and his family to either Beloborodov or Filipp Goloshchekin, the regional military commissar for the Urals (who was a close personal friend and fellow Bolshevik, he and Sverdlov having been in exile together in Siberia). This temporary measure had been intended to remove the Romanovs from the reach of the monarchists, by placing them in a location that was fiercely Bolshevik and that would provide a far more secure prison.47 Sverdlov sent instructions that the Ekaterinburg Bolsheviks, in collaboration with the local Cheka, were to offer Yakovlev their full cooperation. ‘Decide for yourselves whether to place him [Nicholas] in prison or to outfit some mansion,’ he wrote. ‘Do not take him anywhere outside Yekaterinburg without our direct order.’48 But Sverdlov had clearly underestimated the long-held determination of the rival renegade elements from Ekaterinburg and Omsk to be the arbiters of the fate of the Tsar, and the problems this would create for Yakovlev.
* * *
A pall of gloom descended over the Governor’s House when the ominous news was delivered on 22 April that a ‘commissary with extraordinary powers’ had just arrived in town with his own special detachment of soldiers to take charge of the prisoners. His arrival, wrote Gilliard, was ‘felt to be an evil portent, vague but real’.49 Alexander Ievreinov, who was still living undercover in Tobolsk, found out from an informant that Yakovlev had been ordered to fulfil his mission within the next three weeks. There was also much talk that the Tsar would be taken away, on the orders of the Germans, and the monarchy restored.50
Yakovlev, who made his first visit to the Governor’s House on 25 April, arriving ‘dressed in a sailor’s uniform and armed to the teeth’, was a striking, fine-featured man of thirty-two with jet-black hair and a thin stylish moustache. Kobylinsky remembered him later as ‘taller than average, thin, but strong and muscular’. ‘He gave one the impression of being very energetic.’ He also appeared well educated – cultured even, according to Dr Botkin – and spoke French.51 Less endearing was his subordinate Alexander Avdeev, a thuggish commissar from Ekaterinburg who had formerly worked as a locksmith. Kobylinsky found him ‘dirty and uncouth’, and the family would come to loathe him for his boorishness.52
Throughout his dealings with Nicholas the new commissar was extremely polite, to the point of being respectful; ‘he talked to the Emperor standing all the time at attention and actually addressed him several times as “Your Majesty”,’ Dr Botkin noted.53 Yakovlev showed Kobylinsky ‘all his papers, mandates and secret instructions’ signed by Lenin and Sverdlov, and announced that he would be taking Nicholas away at 4 a.m. on 27 April but, despite repeated requests for clarification, he insisted that he did not yet know their ultimate destination; he would be informed en route.54
Yakovlev’s original orders had been to remove the whole family from Tobolsk, but on 11 April, before his arrival, Alexey had had a serious attack of pain and bleeding – the result of a strained groin – and had been confined to bed for days on end. It was such a disappointment, after he had been well for so long: it was the worst attack he had experienced since a near-fatal one at Spala in Poland in 1912.55 As soon as he saw how seriously ill the boy was, Yakovlev realised that it would be impossible to transfer him until the spring, when he could go by river rather than the arduous journey overland on barely passable roads, and he informed Moscow. On 24 April word came back on the telegraph from Sverdlov: Yakovlev was to remove the Tsar with immediate effect. Yakovlev knew that he needed to do so quickly, without further inflaming the rival claims for control by the Omsk and Ekaterinburg contingents. And it was made all the more pressing by the onset of the spring thaw causing the road from Tobolsk to the railway at Tyumen to be heavy going.56
Nicholas’s response, when told that he alone was to be taken away, was one of horror; his first thought was that he was to be taken to Moscow and there compelled by the Bolshevik government – at Germany’s behest – to sign the Brest-Litovsk Treaty. ‘I’ll see my hand cut off … before I do it,’ he exclaimed.57 ‘Perhaps they are taking him out of the country!’ Alexandra exclaimed with alarm, to which Nicholas responded despairingly, ‘Oh, God forbid! Anything except to be sent abroad!’58 He and Alexandra remained convinced that the ultimate destination was Moscow, a conviction that was encouraged by Kobylinsky.
‘Be calm,’ Yakovlev entreated, ‘I am responsible with my life for your safety. If you do not want to go alone, you can take with you any people you wish.’59 It took all the persuasive powers of Kobylinsky to convince the family that they could not resist Yakovlev’s demands. For many hours they debated who should go, and who should stay with the sick Alexey. Alexandra was distraught at the suggestion that she and Nicholas be separated; her maternal instincts had always been to remain with her sick boy, but this time her fears for her husband were far greater. Anxious that Nicholas might be browbeaten without her, after much agonising she opted to t
ravel with him. The four sisters, always so protective of their mother, were insistent that one of them should travel with her as companion. It was agreed that Maria should go, while the capable Tatiana should be left to hold things together at the Governor’s House. Olga, sadly, was in poor health; and the youngest, Anastasia, was needed to keep up morale. The hope was that in about three weeks’ time they would follow on from Tobolsk with Alexey, when he was better.60
Those last few days of April 1918 had been the bleakest time yet endured by the Romanov family and their entourage in their fourteen months of captivity: ‘We are all in a state of mental anguish,’ wrote Pierre Gilliard on 24 April:
We feel we are forgotten by everyone, abandoned to our own resources and at the mercy of this man [Yakovlev]. Is it possible that no one will raise a finger to save the Imperial Family? Where are those who have remained loyal to the Czar? Why do they delay?61
As Nicholas, Alexandra and their daughter Maria packed to leave, it would seem that their monarchist rescuers had failed them. What now, as they prepared for incarceration in a new, unknown and far more forbidding environment?
* * *
Since the beginning of 1918, Russian monarchists had in fact renewed their efforts to come to the aid of the Romanovs, notably the Pravyi Tsentr (Right Centre) group of former tsarist officials, industrialists and politicians, in which Markov II was involved. It was led by former Agriculture Minister, Alexander Krivoshein, and a former Prime Minister, Alexander Trepov, and they had been closely monitoring the situation in Tobolsk. Many of the group had wanted to establish a constitutional monarchy after the revolution in February 1917, and after Brest-Litovsk still hoped to enlist German support for a restoration. At a meeting in January with another Right Centre member, Dmitri Neidgart, Count Benckendorff had expressed his concern at the lack of news from Tobolsk.
The Race to Save the Romanovs Page 20