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Originally published in 1923 - translated from the French by F. A. Holt, O.B.E.
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Volume 1:
I. JULY 20-23, 1914 | II. JULY 24-AUGUST 2, 1914 | III.AUGUST 3-17, 1914 | IV. AUGUST 18-SEPTEMBER 11, 1914 | V. SEPTEMBER 12-OCTOBER 28, 1914 | VI. OCTOBER 29-NOVEMBER 30, 1914 | VII. DECEMBER 1-31, 1914 | VIII. JANUARY 1-FEBRUARY 13, 1915 | IX. FEBRUARY 14-MARCH 31, 1915 | X. APRIL 1-JUNE 2, 1915
Volume 2:
I. JUNE 3-AUGUST 24, 1915 | II. AUGUST 25-SEPTEMBER 20, 1915 | III.SEPTEMBER 21-NOVEMBER 8, 1915 | IV. NOVEMBER 9-DECEMBER 31, 1915 | V. JANUARY 1-26, 1916 | VI. JANUARY 27-FEBRUARY 24, 1916 | VII. FEBRUARY 25-MARCH 22, 1916 | VIII. MARCH 23-MAY 3, 1916 | IX. MAY 4-JUNE 15, 1916 | X. JUNE 16-JULY 18, 1916 | XI. JULY 19-AUGUST 18, 1916
Volume 3
I. AUGUST 19-SEPTEMBER 18, 1916 | II. SEPTEMBER 19-OCTOBER 25, 1916 | III. OCTOBER 27-NOVEMBER 22, 1916 | IV. NOVEMBER 23-DECEMBER 24, 1916 | V. DECEMBER 25, 1916-JANUARY 8, 1917 | VI. JANUARY 9-28, 1917 | VII. JANUARY 29-FEBRUARY 21, 1917 | VIII. FEBRUARY 22-MARCH 11, 1917 | IX. MARCH 12-22, 1917 | X. MARCH 23-APRIL 6, 1917 | XI. APRIL 7-21, 1917 | XII. APRIL 22-MAY 6, 1917 | XIII. MAY 7-17, 1917
CHAPTER VIII
MARCH 23-MAY 3, 1916.
Fresh wave of pessimism in
Russian society; the Æschyline view of Fate. - Demoralisation
of the Russian clergy; wretched poverty of the priests: Dostoïevsky's
"humbled and abased." - Sturmer's reactionary policy:
five socialist deputies sent to Siberia. - Comparative losses
of the French and Russian armies. - General Polivanov, the War
Minister, is sacrificed as being too favourable to the Duma;
his place is taken by General Shuvaïev. - Coldness of liberal
circles towards France: the grievance of 1906; ill-feeling still
exists. - Success of the Russian army in Asiatic Turkey; capture
of Trebizond. - Easter services; Russian piety. - A paradox on
Peter the Great: "the precursor of modern revolutionaries." - Easter
communion at the Feodorovsky Sobor. - Rasputin's sinister
prophecy. - The moujik's belief in the supernatural, and
views on the miraculous. - Unexpected demands of Rumania as the
price of her military co-operation.
Thursday, March 23, 1916.
A dinner at the embassy; I had asked a score or so of Russians
(including Shebeko, who was ambassador to Vienna in 1914), a few
Poles, notably Count and Countess Joseph Potocki, Prince Stanislas
Radziwill, Count Ladislas Wielopolski, and a few English people
who are passing through Petrograd.
After dinner I had a talk in a corner with Potocki and Wielopolski.
Both of them referred to the reports they are getting from Berlin
through Sweden, and express their conclusions in the same terms:
"France and England may perhaps be victorious in the long
run. But Russia has now lost the game; in any case she will never
get Constantinople, and if she brings about a reconciliation with
Germany it will be at the cost of Poland: Sturmer will be the
instrument of that reconciliation."
Then one of my Russian guests, Princess V - - , who is very
high-minded, quick-witted and clever, beckoned to me to go and
sit by her.
"For the first time you see me thoroughly downhearted,"
she sighed. "I've kept up my spirits till quite recently.
But since this dreadful Sturmer has been in office I've lost all
hope."
I comforted her, but only half-heartedly, so that she might
tell me everything on her mind. At the same time I emphasized
that Sazonov's patriotism was a guarantee of the vigorous prosecution
of the war.
"Yes, but how much longer will he be in power? What's
going on behind his back? Is there anything brewing that he knows
nothing of? No doubt you know that the Empress hates him, because
he has always refused to bow the knee to the abject scoundrel
who is bringing Russia to shame. I won't tell you who the ruffian
is; I couldn't pronounce his name without being sick."
"I can understand that you are sad and anxious. To a certain
extent I share your anxiety. But to throw away the axe because
the handle comes off - no, no, no! The harder the times, the greater
is one's duty to stand firm. And it's your duty as much
as anyone's, as you've a reputation for courage and your courage
sustains many others."
She was silent for a moment, as if listening to a voice within.
Then she resumed with a melancholy and resigned gravity:
"What I'm going to say may sound pedantic and ridiculous.
What if it does! I strongly believe in Fate; I believe in it as
the poets of antiquity did, Sophocles and Æschylus, who
were convinced that even the gods of Olympus obeyed the decrees
of destiny."
"Me quoque Fata regunt. You see, I'm the pedant,
not you, as I'm quoting Latin."
"What does your quotation mean?"
"Those words were placed by the poet Ovid in the mouth
of Jupiter, and mean: 'I too am the slave of destiny.'"
"So things haven't changed since the reign of Jupiter.
Destiny has always directed the world's course, and Providence
itself obeys Fate. This isn't very orthodox and I wouldn't repeat
it to the Holy Synod. But I'm obsessed by the idea that Fate is
driving Russia to a catastrophe. It's like a horrible nightmare."
"What do you mean by Fate?"
"I could never explain. I'm not a philosopher myself.
I go to sleep every time I open a book on philosophy. But I know
well enough what Fate is. Help me to describe it."
"Why, it's the force of things, the law of necessity,
the natural order of the universe. Aren't these definitions enough
for you?"
"No, not at all. If Fate was no more than that I shouldn't
be afraid of it. For though Russia may be a very great empire,
I can't think that her victory or defeat is a matter of great
concern to the natural order of the universe."
And then, picking her words to some extent, but quite spontaneously
and without the least affectation, she described Fate to me as
a mysterious power, blind but irresistible, which intervenes at
random in the world's affairs, prosecutes its designs inflexibly,
despite all human efforts, wisdom and calculations, and takes
a malicious delight in making us the instruments of its own caprices.
"Take the Emperor, for example," she continued. "Isn't
he patently predestined to ruin Russia? Aren't you struck by his
ill-luck? Could any reign have been richer in miscalculations,
failures and calamities? Everything he has undertaken, his best
ideas and noblest inspirations, have gone wrong or actually reacted
against him. As a matter of logic, what must his end be? As to
the Empress, do you know any figure more baleful and accursed
even in classical tragedy? And that other, the loathsome
ruffian whose name I won't utter! Isn't the brand of Fate on him
clearly enough? How can you explain the fact that at such a crisis
in history these three incongruous and dull-witted beings hold
the destinies of the world's largest empire in their hands? Don't
you recognize the action of Fate in that? Come, tell me
honestly!"
"You're very eloquent; but I'm not convinced at all. Fate
is only the excuse a weak character gives for its surrender. As
I have started being a pedant, I shall continue to be so; I'm
going to quote you more Latin. In Lucretius there's an
excellent definition of will: 'Fatis avulsa potestas' which
can be translated as 'a power wrenched from Fate.' Even the most
pessimistic of poets has admitted that it is possible to fight
against destiny."
After a silent pause Princess V - - resumed with a melancholy
smile:
"You're lucky to be able to think that. Anyone can see
you're not a Russian! Anyway, I'll promise to think over what
you say. But please forget what I've been telling you,
mon cher Ambassadeur. For Heaven's sake don't repeat
a word; I'm ashamed of letting myself go to a foreigner."
"An ally!"
"Yes, and a friend too. But a foreigner all the same!
I know I can count on your discretion. You'll keep my confidences
to yourself, won't you? Now let's go and talk to our other guests."
Sunday, March 26, 1916.
The frightful struggle at Verdun is still continuing.
Notwithstanding the extreme cold and heavy snowfalls the Russians
are trying to help use by attacks on the Dvina front. Yesterday
they gained substantial successes in the Jacobstadt sector and
west of Lake Narotch.
Monday, March 27, 1916.
The psychology of Russian criminals is of fascinating interest;
it presents the moralist, sociologist, lawyer and doctor with
an inexhaustible source of varied, fantastic, contradictory, paradoxical,
disconcerting and improbable observations. Among no other nation
do the dramas of conscience, the mysteries of free will and atavism,
the problems of personal responsibility and penal sanctions wear
so complex and perplexing an aspect. Hence the fact that Russian
dramatists and novelists have made the "criminal" their
favourite theme.
Through the translator who reviews the Press for me every morning
I keep in touch with the chronicles of the courts, and I can confirm
that the fictions of literature do not in any way exaggerate the
truth. Often enough it is the truth which leaves the fiction writers
behind.
One of the facts I most frequently observe is the swift reawakening
of conscience the moment that homicidal fury or brute lust is
satiated. Once more I must point out - as I have done several
times before in this diary - that the conscience of a Russian
is inspired solely by the Scriptures. Even in the most sin-stained
soul the Christian idea of sin, repentance and expiation is never
destroyed. After the cerebral paroxysm and nervous storm which
have produced the criminal act you can almost always see the culprit
collapse. With hanging head, dull eyes and knitted brow he sits
lost in feverish grief and intense agony of mind. Before long,
one feeling obsesses him with the stubborn force of an idée
fixe, a feeling of shame, remorse, an irresistible desire
to confess and expiate his crime. He flings himself down before
the ikons, beats his breast and calls imploringly on Christ. His
whole moral attitude seems determined by the thought from Pascal:
"God forgives, the moment he sees penitence in the heart."
An incident which Dostoïevsky puts into his novel, The
Youth, illustrates my point very strikingly. He is speaking
of a soldier who has done his years of service and returned to
his village. The way of life he has led with his regiment soon
makes his monotonous existence among moujiks quite intolerable,
added to which they dislike him. Then he starts drinking and drops
into evil ways. One day he robs some travellers. He falls under
suspicion immediately; he is arrested. But proof positive is lacking.
At the trial his attorney, by great skill, is about to secure
his acquittal. Suddenly, the prisoner gets up and cuts his defender
short: "No, no! Wait a minute. Let me speak. I'm going to
tell everything." And he tells everything - absolutely everything.
Then he bursts into tears, violently beats his breast
and proclaims his repentant grief. The jury are deeply moved and
retire to confer. After a few minutes they bring in a verdict
of "Not Guilty." The crowd in court cheers. The judges
order his release. But the ex-soldier does not move. He is utterly
taken aback. When he finds himself in the street, a free man,
he walks about in a dismal stupor, not knowing where he is going.
Next morning, after a sleepless night, he is still more depressed.
He refuses to eat or drink and will not say a word to anyone.
On the fifth day he hangs himself. A character in the story, the
peasant Macaire Ivanovitch, in whose presence this incident is
related, sums it up thus: "That's what comes of living with
your sins on your soul!"
Wednesday, March 29, 1916.
The ex-President of the Council, Kokovtsov, whose signal patriotism
and sound sense I greatly admire, has been to see me at the embassy.
He was very pessimistic as usual; in fact he gave me the idea
that he was forcibly controlling himself to prevent me seeing
the real depths of his despair.
In his general diagnosis of the internal conditions of Russia
I observe the importance he attaches to the demoralisation of
the Russian clergy. In a grief-stricken tone, which occasionally
made his grave voice tremble, he ended with these words:
"The religious forces of this country will not be able
to withstand the abominable strain upon them much longer. The
Episcopate and high ecclesiastical offices are now completely
under the heel of the Rasputin clique. It's like an unclean disease,
a gangrene which will soon have devoured all the higher ranks
of the Church. I could shed tears of shame when I think of the
ignoble traffic that goes on in the offices of the Holy Synod
on certain days. But to the religious future of Russia - and I'm
speaking of a near future - there is another peril which seems
to me not less formidable: it is the spread of revolutionary ideas
among the lower clergy, particularly young priests. You must know
how wretched is the condition of our priests, materially and morally.
The sviatchenik of our rural parishes almost always lives
in blank misery which too often makes him lose all dignity, shame,
and respect for his cloth and office. The peasants despise him
for his idle, drunken ways, and they are always quarrelling with
him over his fees for services and sacraments; sometimes they
don't stop at insulting and even beating him. You've no idea what
an accumulation of grief and bitterness there is in the hearts
of some of our priests! Our socialists have very skilfully exploited
the pitiable condition of the lower clergy. For the last twelve
years they have been carrying on a very active campaign among
the country priests, especially the younger ones. Thus they are
simultaneously recruiting soldiers for the army of anarchy, and
apostles and teachers who naturally have influence on our ignorant
and mystical masses. You may remember the evil rôle of the
priest Gapon in the riots of 1905: he had a kind of magnetic influence
on all around him. A well-informed person told me the other day
that revolutionary propaganda is now making its way even into
the ecclesiastical colleges. You know that the young men in the
seminaries are all sons of priests; most of them are without means;
the memories which many of them bring from their villages make
them "humbled and abased" from the outset, to use Dostoïevsky's
phrase. Thus their minds are only too ready to receive the seed
of the socialist gospel. And to complete their perversion, agitators
fan them into fury against the higher clergy by telling them of
the Rasputin scandals !
Thursday, March 30, 1916.
The Duma has just concluded, in secret session, its investigation
of the finances of the Foreign Office. Sazonov was several times
called upon to address the assembly. His patriotism, courageous,
straightforward candour and high standard of duty have earned
him a rich reward of respect and affection. So all is well in
that quarter.
But in the sphere of domestic politics the relations between
the government and the assembly are becoming worse and more strained
every day. In two months of office Sturmer has succeeded in making
the public want Goremykin back. The whole bureaucracy is engaged
in a competition in reactionary zeal. If it was desired to provoke
a violent crisis, no better course could be adopted. I am expecting
a speedy resumption of the old game of police provocation, the
exploits of the "Black Bands" and massacres of Jews.
A recent incident has exasperated the groups of the Extreme
Left in the Duma: the Petrograd Court has just passed sentence
of confinement in Siberia for life on five Social Democrat deputies,
on charges of revolutionary propaganda.
They were arrested so long ago as November, 1914, at the time
when Lenin, a refugee in Switzerland, was starting his defeatist
campaign with the famous profession of faith: "Russian socialists
must desire the victory of Germany, because the defeat of Russia
will involve the downfall of tsarism... ." The five deputies - Petrovsky,
Chagov, Badaïev, Muranov and Samoïlov were originally
accused of treason, but subsequently all the charges were dropped
except that of having tried to organize a revolutionary movement
in the army.
The famous Petrograd lawyer, Soklov, and the Labour deputy
Kerensky, put up a skilful defence, but the sentence was none
the less a heavy one.
In the course of his speech, Kerensky asserted that the accused
have never thought of provoking a revolution during the war; they
have never desired the defeat of our army; they have never held
out a hand to the enemy over the heads of those who are dying
in defence of the country. What they most feared, on the contrary,
was that the Russian reactionaries might make common cause with
the German reactionaries... ."This allusion to a secret
understanding between Russian autocracy and Prussian absolutism
is only too well founded. But in my view it is equally well established
that Russian socialism is also secretly paving the way for a betrayal
by appealing to the worst instincts of the workmen and soldiers.
Saturday, April 1, 1916.
I have been to see Sturmer about certain administrative matters
which come under his department.
With his wheedling smirk and affectation of candour he smothered
me with honeyed promises:
"Your Excellency, I'll give orders to my departments to
do everything possible to meet your wishes. And what they call
impossible I'll do myself!"
I took a note of these excellent professions and then, addressing
him not as Minister of the Interior but as President of the Council,
I mentioned the difficulties which the bureaucracy is always putting
in the way of private industries working for the war. I gave several
recent examples which reveal not only indifference and confusion
in the public services but downright ill-will:
"I appeal to your authority," I said, "to put
an end to these scandalous abuses."
"Surely scandalous is somewhat exaggerated,
Monsieur l'Ambassadeur! I'll admit, of course, that there
have been a few cases of negligence; I'm grateful to you for bringing
them to my notice."
"No, Monsieur le Président, the incidents
I speak of - I'll guarantee their truth - are not cases of mere
negligence; they show there's a system of obstruction and a real
feeling of enmity."
With a grieved air, and his hand on his heart, he vouched for
the fervent patriotism, loyal zeal and unassailable probity of
the Civil Service. But I persisted with my charges, and proved
by the production of figures that Russia could easily treble or
quadruple her effort, while France is exhausting all her vitality.
He protested:
"But we've lost a million men on the battlefield!"
"That means that the losses of France are four
times greater than those of Russia."
"What!"
"It's a very simple calculation. Russia has 180,000,000
inhabitants, France 40,000,000. For the losses to be relatively
equal yours should be four and a half times higher than ours.
But, if I am not mistaken, the present losses of the French army
exceed 800,000 men. And I'm only speaking of numerical equality!"
He raised his eyes in amazement.
"I've never been any good at sums. All I can tell you
is that our poor moujiks are giving their lives without
stint."
"I know it. Your moujiks are splendid; it's your
tchinovniks I complain about."
With a lordly frown, and drawing himself up majestically, he
continued:
"Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, I'm going to investigate
everything you've been good enough to bring to my notice. If there
have been mistakes, their recurrence will be ruthlessly prevented.
You may rely on vigorous action by me."
I gave him a grateful nod. In the same tone he continued:
"I'm very lenient by temperament, but I stop at no severity
when it's a question of serving the Emperor and Russia. So you
may trust me entirely, Your Excellency. All will be well; yes,
all will be well, with God's help."
With that fallacious assurance I left him, but I was sorry
he had not dealt with my allusion to the numerical proportion
of the French losses to the Russian. I should like to have made
him realize that in calculating the losses suffered by the two
allies the factor of numbers is neither the sole nor even the
principal element. From the point of view of culture, and as a
product of civilization, the Frenchman and the Russian are not
in the same class. The empire of the Tsars is one of the most
backward countries in the world: of 180,000,000 inhabitants, 150,000,000
cannot read or write. With this ignorant and primitive mass compare
our army: all the soldiers educated men; the majority highly intelligent
and of fine feeling; at its head a countless legion of young men
who have already given proof of leadership, learning, taste and
talent - the choicest flower of human kind. From that point of
view our losses enormously exceed those of the Russians.
In speaking as I do, I am not ignoring that in the realm of
the ideal the lowliest life acquires by sacrifice a value beyond
price, and when a poor moujik is killed it would
be hideous and horrible to frame his epitaph in words such as
these: "You could not read or write, and your coarse hands
were fit for nothing but pushing the plough; so you did not give
much when you gave your life!" Nothing is further from my
mind than to apply to this army of humble heroes the contemptuous
remark passed by Tacitus on the Christian martyrs: "Si
interissent vile damnum." But from the political point
of view, and that of effective contribution to the Alliance, it
is absolutely certain that the French share is by far the greater.
Sunday, April 2, 1916.
General Polivanov, the War Minister, has been relieved of his
functions and replaced by General Shuvaïev, a man of mean
intelligence.
General Polivanov's dismissal is a serious loss to the Alliance.
So far as was possible, he had restored system and order in the
War Department, and made good - so far as could be made good - the
mistakes, omissions, waste and betrayals of his predecessor, General
Sukhomlinov. He was not only an excellent administrator, as methodical
and ingenious as upright and vigilant, but possessed the strategic
sense in a very high degree: General Alexeiev does not like
taking advice from anyone, but he attached great importance to
his.
Though his loyalty is unimpeachable, he is a man of liberal
opinions, and had many friends in the Duma and the ranks of the
Octobrists and Cadets, who founded great hopes upon him. He seemed
to be a last line of defence of the existing regime, capable of
protecting it both against the extravagances of absolutism and
the excesses of revolution.
The confidence he inspired in the Duma could only do him harm
and discredit him with the Empress. In particular, his relations
with the president of the Octobrists, Gutchkov, "the personal
enemy of Their Majesties," have often been exploited to his
detriment. Once again the Emperor has been weak enough to sacrifice
one of his best servants.
At the same time I am assured that General Polivanov's dismissal
does not foreshadow any change in the domestic policy of the empire,
and that the Emperor has recently instructed Sturmer to avoid
any conflict with the Duma.
Thursday, April 6, 1916.
Maxim Kovalevsky has just died after a short illness.
Born in 1851, a professor of the University of Moscow and one
of its delegates to the Council of Empire, he was one of the most
striking figures in the Cadet party.
A passionate lover of justice, he practised one of the virtues
which is rarest in Russia - and elsewhere - tolerance. His heart
and conscience were outraged by anti-Semitism. When he was discussing
one day the abominable regime to which tsarism has subjected the
Jews, he quoted the phrase of Stuart Mill: "In a civilized
nation there must be no pariahs."
During our last conversation he let me see that he had few
illusions as to the seriousness of the evils from which Russia
is suffering, and the enormous difficulty of reforming the established
order without bringing the whole edifice down. But if there is
one thing which alarms him above everything else it is the ignorance
of the masses. Here again he shared Stuart Mill's view: "The
condition precedent to universal suffrage is universal education."
Considered in relation to the number of its population Russia
is, next to China, the country which has fewest educated and eminent
citizens, and where the social directing body is smallest in number.
and lowest in quality. Thus the disappearance of a Maxim Kovalevsky
is a material loss from the national point of view.
Monday, April 10, 1916.
I have dined at the Donon Restaurant with Count and Countess
Joseph Potocki, Prince Constantine Radziwill and his niece,, Princess
Stanislas Radziwill, Count Broel-Plater, Count Ladislas Wielopolski,
etc.
The atmosphere of the gathering was entirely Polish, so that
everyone talked quite freely in front of me. From the course of
the conversation, the facts brought forward and the euphemisms
to which the speakers resorted, I have concluded that this war,
in which the belligerents of Central and Western Europe are developing
to the maximum their faculties for military organization and political
cohesion, is far too much for the material and moral resources
of Russia.
After dinner Wielopolski took me on one side and poured out
his heart:
"I once took a course at Berlin University and I'll admit
it has made a deep impression on me, and even left me with very
pleasant memories; not that it prevents me from cordially detesting
Prussia and being a loyal subject of the Emperor Nicholas. But
I can't entirely get rid of my German training when I indulge
in philosophiren on things Russian... ."
And with a perfect profusion of historical arguments he endeavoured
to convince me that, appearances notwithstanding, Russia is the
weakest of the warring states, the power which will be the first
to go under, because its backward civilization strictly limits
its productive faculties, and its national conscience is even
yet too undeveloped to resist the disintegrating action of a long
war.
Tuesday, April 11, 1916.
The day before yesterday the Battle of Verdun seems to have
attained a paroxysm of horror and fury. Along the whole line the
fierce waves of the German offensive have been victoriously repulsed.
Never before in her history has the soul of France risen to
such heights. Sazonov, whose moral conscience is quite unusually
sensitive, was deeply moved as he used these words to me this
morning.
Wednesday, April 12, 1916.
Count Constantine de Broel-Plater is leaving for London, Paris
and Lausanne, where he is to confer with his Polish compatriots.
I asked him to lunch to-day with Count Ladislas Wielopolski
and Count Joseph Potocki - no other guests, so that we could talk
freely.
A very frank conversation I had with Sazonov yesterday enabled
me to guarantee that the Emperor was still firm in his liberal
intentions towards Poland.
Wielopolski replied:
"I'm not in the least anxious about the intentions of
the Emperor and Sazonov. But Sazonov may disappear from the political
stage at any moment. And then, who can guarantee us against faint-heartedness
on the part of the Emperor?"
Plater argued that the Allies should take up the Polish question
so as to make it international.
I protested vigorously against this notion. The claim to internationalize
the Polish question would provoke an outburst of indignation in
nationalist circles in the empire, and paralyse all the sympathies
we have won in other quarters. Sazonov himself would violently
object. And the whole Sturmer gang would have a fine game denouncing
the democratic Western powers for taking advantage of the Alliance
to interfere in the domestic affairs of Russia. I added:
"You know what the French Government feels about your
cause, and I can promise you its interest is not academic. But
its action will be all the more efficacious if it is discreet
and deprived of any official character. So far as I personally
am concerned, I never lose an opportunity of inducing the Emperor's
ministers to talk to me about Poland and tell me their views,
doubts and difficulties about the grave and complex problems which
the proclamation of Polish autonomy raises. Although given solely
as private opinions, their repeated declarations (for not one
of them, not even Sturmer himself, has ventured to protest against
the Emperor's intentions) have at length constituted a kind of
moral obligation which unquestionably would enable the French
Government to speak with exceptional authority when the hour of
final decision arrives."
Plater has promised me to make this point clear to his compatriots;
but he does not hide from me that he will have difficulty in convincing
them.
Friday, April 14, 1916.
In spite of the dangers, length and difficulty of the journey,
there is hardly a week which does not witness the arrival of French
visitors, officers, engineers, business men, journalists, etc.
However short their stay and however deficient their powers
of observation, they have all told me of their painful surprise
at the indifference, if not positive coldness, towards France
which they have observed in liberal circles.
It is unfortunately true. The Retch, for example, the
official organ of the Cadets, is one of the Russian papers which
seem to take pleasure in making no mention of our military operations;
it is extremely miserly with its compliments to our army, and
one of the quickest to point out the slowness or mistakes of our
strategy. With very few exceptions - among whom I should mention
Miliukov, Shingarev and Maklakov - the great majority of the party
has not yet abandoned its ancient and tenacious dislike of the
Alliance.
The grievance is ten years old. The war in Manchuria had just
ended in disaster and all over Russia there was. an endless succession
of riots, strikes, plots, murders of officials, mutinies in the
navy and the army, agrarian risings, lootings and pogroms. To
crown everything, the imperial treasury was empty. A loan of 2,250,000,000
francs was negotiated on the Paris market. To our banks and the
press the offer was very enticing. But the Government of the Republic
hesitated to authorize the operation as the parties of the Extreme
Left demanded that the draft bill for the loan should be submitted
to the Duma, which would thus have been in a position to impose
conditions on tsarism. Count Witte naturally opposed this suggestion
with all his might.
The position of Léon Bourgeois's Radical cabinet was
delicate. Were we to strengthen monarchical absolutism in Russia
with the help of French money? In the open conflict between the
Russian people and autocracy were we to side with the oppressor
against the oppressed?
A consideration, of which French opinion knew nothing, ultimately
decided our ministers to acquiesce in the demands of the Imperial
Government. Relations between France and Germany were bad; the
Algeçiras convention was only a diplomatic armistice. We
also knew of the astute intrigues with the Tsar on which the Emperor
William was personally engaged, with a view to forcing him into
a Russo-German alliance which France would have been called upon
to join. Was this the moment to break with tsarism?
In authorizing the issue of the Russian loan on the Paris market
in April, 1906, the Government of the Republic remained faithful
to the cardinal principle of our foreign policy - to seek the
main bulwark of our national independence in the silent development
of the armed power of Russia.
There was an angry explosion among the Democrats in the Duma.
Their resentment still continues.
Saturday, April 15, 1916.
I have called on Madame Taneïev, wife of the Secretary
of State who is Director of the Imperial Chancellery and the mother
of Madame Vyrubova.
It is a long time since I saw her last, though I always enjoy
a talk with her in her ancient rooms in the Michael Palace; her
family traditions have made her a rich storehouse of memories.
Her father, the aide-de-camp, General Ilarion Tolstoï,
was a close personal friend of Alexander II; her maternal grandfather,
Prince Alexander Golitzin, accompanied the Grand Duke Constantine
when he was Viceroy of Poland. And for over a century the directorate,
of the Imperial Chancellery has been held by successive generations
of Taneïevs.
She recently lent me a diary kept by her grandmother, Princess
Golitzin, during the Polish insurrection of 1830-31. It illustrated
the illusions then harboured by Russia on the subject of Poland,
and how generous the Russians had been in forgiving the Poles
for the crime of the three partitions.
But it is not Poland which we have been discussing to-day.
I interrogated her in very veiled language about her daughter,
Madame Vyrubova, the absorbing part she plays at the palace and
the constant attention and attendance the Empress's confidence
imposes upon her.
"Of course my poor Annie gets very tired sometimes,"
she said. "Never a moment's rest! Since the Emperor has been
with the armies the Empress is overwhelmed with work; she must
know all that is going on. Our good M. Sturmer consults her
about everything. She doesn't mind that. Far from it! But, of
course, it means that my daughter receives hosts of letters and
has heaps to do!"
Wednesday, April 19, 1916.
The Russians took Trebizond yesterday. Perhaps this success
will revive the dream of Constantinople, which no one talks about
now.
For four and a half centuries the scarlet standard of Islam
has floated over "Tirabzon": Christian civilization
returns with the Russian army. After the collapse of the Greek
army in 1204 the Comneni transferred the remnants of their authority
and fortune to the Pontic shore. Their new empire rapidly attained
a high degree of power, splendour and prosperity. To the artless
imagination of the oriental troubadours, the Emperors of Trebizond
actually appeared as fabled potentates, on whose lofty heads sat
a golden halo of glory and fantastic riches. It was the land of
the "Far-away Princess." As a matter of cold fact, the
Empire of Trebizond was for three centuries the advanced rampart
of Byzantine Christianity and European civilization against the
Turkish invaders.
Thursday, April 20, 1916.
In accordance with custom, the ambassadors and ministers of
Catholic powers were invited to attend Holy Thursday mass in full
uniform this morning at the Priory of Malta.
In this narrow church, with its medley of octagonal crosses,
I stood facing the throne of the Grand Master and the Latin inscriptions,
Once more, as a year ago, my mind turned to strange memories of
that crowned madman the Emperor Paul.
Once again, too, the pathetic liturgy carried my thoughts away
to the mourning of France and the countless and ever-growing number
of our dead. Will history ever record such a death-roll again?
And, above all, I thought of our heroes of Verdun, whose simple
faith and brave, light hearts have raised the age-old virtues
of the French spirit to the highest pinnacle of the sublime and
the miraculous.
Friday, April 21, 1916.
This year the date of Easter is again the same in the Russian
and Gregorian calendars.
Towards the end of the day, Princess D - -, who holds very
independent views and likes "going among the people,"
took me to some of the churches in the popular quarters.
After a short call at the gaudy and sumptuous Lavra of Saint
Alexander Nevsky, we visited the little Church of the Raising
of the Cross, hard by the Obvodny Canal, then the Ismaïlov
Cathedral, at the end of the Fontanka, and then the churches of
St. Catherine and the Resurrection, in a quarter of factories
and docks not far from the Neva.
In all of them we found a dazzling light and splendid choirs,
distinguished for the beauty of the voices, technical excellence
and depth of religious feeling.
Everywhere the faces of the worshippers reflected a grave and
dreamy fervour, wistful and concentrated.
We lingered in the Church of the Resurrection, where the crowd
was particularly silent and composed.
Suddenly Princess D - - nudged my elbow:
"Look!" she said; "isn't that a moving sight?
With a glance she pointed out a moujik who was absorbed
in prayer within a few feet of us. He was a man of about fifty,
dressed in a patched lambskin, tall, With a consumptive look,
a flat, broad nose, wrinkled brows, high forehead, hollow cheeks,
with a sprinkling of greyish beard, his head drooping towards
the right shoulder and
his hands in his lap nervously clasping his cap. Several times
he struck his forehead and shoulders with his clenched fist, while
his thick, bluish lips stammered out: "Gospodi pomilou!" - "
Lord, have mercy on me!"
After each exclamation he uttered a deep sigh - a dull, grief-laden
groan. Then he became motionless once more. But his face was all
the more expressive. A phosphorescent, ecstatic light bathed his
watery eyes, which looked as if he were really seeing some invisible
object.
Princess D - - clasped my arm: "Look at him! Look at
him! He's seeing Christ!"
While I was taking my companion home, we discussed the religious
instincts of Russians. I quoted Pascal's phrase: "Religious
belief is Christ felt within." I asked her whether she did
not think we might say: "To the Russian, faith is Jesus Christ
felt within "?
"That's it!" she cried. "That's it exactly."
Saturday, April 22, 1916.
This morning Sazonov remarked in an irritated tone
"Bratiano's at his old game again!"
Yesterday evening he had a visit from Colonel Tatarinov, military
attaché at Bucharest, who has come from Rumania to make
his report to the Emperor. He says that a compact between the
Russian and Rumanian General Staffs will be easy to arrange, with
a view to operations in the Dobrudja. As a result of his conferences
with General Iliesco he even considered himself entitled to think
that agreement had been reached in principle on that basis. But
when he went to say good-bye to Bratiano, the latter suddenly
put forward a demand that the main and immediate objective of
the Russian army should be the occupation of Rustchuk, so that
Bucharest should be safe against attack by the Bulgarians. General
Alexeïv considers that such a demand, which wholly ignores
the difficulties of a two hundred-and-fifty kilometres' march
along the right bank of the Danube, is another proof of Bratiano's
determination to evade the conclusion of a military convention.
"And Paris will go on saying that it is Russia which stands
in the way of Rumanian intervention!" added Sazonov.
Sunday, April 23, 1916.
The ice is breaking up in the Neva, and the river is fiercely
sweeping down tremendous blocks, which come from Ladoga; it is
the end of the "ice age."
Returning from a call at the end of the English Quay, I saw
the chamberlain, Nicholas Besak, staggering through the thawing
mud in a fierce and cutting north wind. I offered him a lift in
my car. He accepted, and when ensconced next to me began to amuse
me with the paradox-loving imagination he occasionally reveals,
with the spontaneity and genius of a Rivarol.
When we reached the Holy Synod Square, crowned by the monument
of Peter I, Falconet's masterpiece, I once more expressed my admiration
of the majestic effigy of the tsar legislator, who seems to be
directing the very course of the Neva from the vantage point of
a prancing horse. Besak raised his hat.
"I greet the greatest revolutionary of modern times!"
he said.
"Peter I a revolutionary? I always thought he was a fierce,
impetuous and rabid reformer, without scruples or mercy, but possessed
to a very high degree of creative genius and the instinct for
order and authority."
"No. All Peter Alexeievitch liked was destroying
things. That is why he was so essentially Russian. In his savage
despotism he undermined and overturned the whole fabric. For nearly
thirty years he was in revolt against his people; he attacked
all our national traditions and customs; he turned everything
upside down, even our holy orthodox Church. You call hint a reformer.
But a true reformer allows for the past, recognizes the limits
of the possible and impossible, is cautious with his changes and
paves the way for the future. He was quite different. He destroyed
for the sheer delight of destroying, and took a cynical pleasure
in breaking down the resistance of others, outraging their conscience,
and killing their most natural and legitimate feelings... When
our present-day anarchists dream of blowing up the social edifice
on the pretext of reconstructing it en bloc, they are unconsciously
drawing their inspiration from Peter the Great. Like him, they
have a fanatical hatred of the past; like him, they imagine they
can change the whole soul of a nation by ukases and penalties.
Once more I say that Peter Alexeievitch is the true ancestor
and precursor of our revolutionaries."
"What if he is! I wish he'd come to life again. For twenty-one
years he kept up the fight with the Swedes and ended by dictating
terms of peace to them. He'd be quite equal to continuing the
war against the Boches for another year or two. Heaven knows he'd
have his hands full, Titan of will-power though he was!"
Monday, April 24, 1916.
Briand has cabled me that Viviani, the Minister of justice,
and Albert Thomas, Under-Secretary of State for Artillery and
Munitions, are being sent to Petrograd, charged with the duty
of establishing an even closer contact between the French and
Russian Governments.
I immediately informed Sazonov, who has promised me that these
two envoys shall have the best of receptions. But under the official
promise., which is couched in terms of the requisite courtesy
and spontaneity, I think I can detect a certain vague apprehension:
he did, in fact, interrogate me at length about Albert Thomas,
whose fervent and infectious socialism is anything but to his
taste. I told him all about Albert Thomas's work in the war, his
patriotism, exceptional intelligence, inexhaustible industry,
loyal efforts to maintain friendly relations between employers
and workmen - in a word, all the energy and gifts he has devoted
to the service of the Union Sacrée..
Sazonov, who is not without heart, was touched by my panegyric:
"I'll tell the Emperor all you say. But you'd better repeat
it yourself to Messrs. Sturmer and Co."
Tuesday, April 25, 1916.
This afternoon I took tea with Princess L - -, a very charming
old lady, whose face - with its features still pure - and lively
talk are a delightful expression of the open mind, warm heart
and tolerant outlook of those who have lived long and loved greatly.
I found her alone with her bosom friend, Countess F - -, whose
husband holds one of the highest posts at Court.
My arrival rudely interrupted their conversation, which must
have been on some very unpleasant subject as both of them had
a horrified look. Countess F - - left almost at once.
As I talked with the Princess, I thought I could detect a melancholy,
obsessing thought hovering in the depths of her eyes, a thought
which captured my curiosity.
I then remembered that Count F - - comes into close personal
contact with the sovereigns every day and has no secrets from
his wife, so I insidiously asked my hostess:
"How is the Emperor? I've had no news of him for a long
time."
"He's still at the Stavka and I believe he's never
been better."
"So he didn't come back to Tsarskoe Selo for the
Easter services?"
"No. It's the very first time he has missed celebrating
the Easter rites with the Empress and his children. But he couldn't
leave Mohilev: it's said that our troops are going to take the
offensive soon."
"What's happening to the Empress To this simple question
the Princess replied with a look and gesture of despair. I begged
her to explain. At length she said:
"Would you believe it! Last Thursday, when the Empress
was receiving holy communion at the Feodorovsky Sobor, she
desired and ordered that Rasputin should take the sacrament
at the same time. The wretch received the holy relics, Christ's
body and blood, at her side! ... My old friend, Countess F - -,
was telling me about it just now. Isn't it dreadful? I still feel
terribly upset.
"Yes, it's a great pity. But, at heart, the Empress is
consistent. She believes in Rasputin; she regards him as a just
man, a saint, persecuted by the calumnies of the Pharisees, like
the victim of Calvary; she has made him her spiritual guide and
refuge, her mediator with Christ, her witness and intercessor
before God. So isn't it natural that she should want him at her
side when she performs the most important act of her religious
life? I confess I am extremely sorry for the poor, misguided woman."
"By all means be sorry for her, Ambassador, and for us
too! The question is, what will all this bring us to, some day?
Wednesday, April 26, 1916.
Nitchevo! ... Who can doubt that that is the
word most frequently to be heard on Russian lips? At all times
and in all places you can hear people saying Nitchevo! ("That's
nothing! That doesn't matter a bit!") with a gesture of indifference
or renunciation.
The word is so common and popular that one is compelled to
recognize it as the expression of a national characteristic.
In all ages there have been epicureans and sceptics to proclaim
the vanity of human effort and take a gleeful delight in the thought
of the universal illusion. Whether power or desire, wealth or
pleasure were concerned, Lucretius never failed to remark: Nequicquam!
("It's so futile!")
Very different is the meaning of the Russian nitchevo. This
summary method of depreciating the object of a wish, or asserting
by anticipation the inanity of an endeavour, is usually nothing
but the excuse the speaker makes for giving up trying.
I will give a few further details, culled from a direct and
secret source, of Rasputin's participation in the Empress's communion
service.
Mass was celebrated by Father Vassiliev in the mysterious,
glittering crypt of the Feodorovsky Sobor, the little archaic
church whose slender cupola stands out so strangely against the
trees of the imperial park - a survival or evocation of ancient
Muscovy. The Tsarina was present with the three older girls; Grigory
stood behind her, accompanied by Madame Vyrubova and Madame Turovitch.
When Alexandra Feodorovna advanced to the ikonostasis to receive
the bread and precious blood she glanced at the staretz, who
followed her and took the sacrament immediately after her. Then,
at the altar, they exchanged the kiss of peace, Rasputin kissing
the Empress on the forehead and she returning his kiss on his
hand.
During the days preceding this ceremony, the staretz spent
long hours in prayer at Our Lady of Kazan, where he confessed
to Father Nicholas on Wednesday evening. His fervent friends,
Mlle. G - - and Madame T - -, who hardly left his side, have
been much struck by his melancholy, brooding air. Several times
he spoke to them of his approaching death. In particular he said
to Madame T - -: "Do you realize that before long I shall
die in terrible agonies? But what can I do? God has given me the
sublime mission of being a sacrifice for the salvation of our
dear sovereigns and Holy Russia. Notwithstanding my sins, which
are lamentable, I am a Christ in miniature, malenkii Kristos."
On another occasion he uttered the following prophecy, when
passing the Fortress of SS. Peter and Paul with two women friends:
"I can see many persons in agony there; I don't mean persons
in the sense of individuals, but in multitudes; I can see heaps,
masses of corpses, tutchy trupov, several Grand Dukes and
hundreds of counts,, neskolko velikikh kniaseï i sotni
grafiev... . The Neva will be all red with blood."
In the evening of Friday Rasputin went off to his village,
Pokrovskoïe, near Tobolsk, and Madame T - - and Mlle. G - -
have gone to join him there.
Thursday, April 27, 1916.
I have called on Madame D - -, who is on the point of leaving
for her estates in the Tchernoziom, south of Voronej.
A serious-minded and energetic lady, she takes great interest
in the life of the peasants and makes herself an intelligent guardian
of their welfare, education and morality. I have been asking her
about their religious feelings. She describes them as very artless
and unaffected, though deep, dreamy and simply saturated with
mysticism and superstitions. Their belief in mysticism is particularly
naive. Nothing seems to them less supernatural and more normal
than the direct intervention of the Divinity in human affairs.
As God is omnipotent, why should any one be surprised at his hearing
our prayers or giving us an abnormal proof of his pity and kindness?
To their minds the miraculous is a rare, irregular and inexplicable
phenomenon on which no man can count, but which is perfectly natural.
Our contrary view of the miraculous certainly presupposes very
clear ideas on nature and her laws. To accept or deny the supernatural,
the first essential is to know that there are rational methods
and physical sciences.
Madame D - - then described as one of the most typical - and
alarming - characteristics of the Russian peasant the rapidity
and suddenness with which he sometimes leaps from one extreme
to the other, from submissiveness to revolt, apathy to fury, asceticism
to licentiousness, gentleness to ferocity. She ended as follows:
"What makes our moujiks so difficult to
understand is the fact that the same mind bears within it every
conflicting possibility. When you return home get your Dostoïevsky,
look for the portrait of the dreamer in The Brothers Karamazov,
and you'll never forget what I've just told you."
"This is the portrait: It is a forest in winter; in its
depths stands a moujik, dressed in a ragged caftan. He
seems to be thinking, but he is not thinking; he is lost in a
vague dream. If you touched him he would start and look at you
without seeing, like a sleeper on waking. He would probably come
to himself very quickly; but if you asked him what his dream was
about he could not tell you, because he remembers nothing. And
yet he retains strong impressions of this torpor, impressions
which delight him and accumulate subconsciously. One day, perhaps
after a year of reveries such as this, he will start out., leave
everything behind him and go to Jerusalem to win salvation;
or just as likely he will set fire to his village, or perhaps
commit his crime first and make his pilgrimage afterwards. There
are many types like that among our people... ."
This evening, at the Marie Theatre, Tchechinskaïa was
dancing Gisela and Paquita, masterpieces of old-time
choreography, the conventional and acrobatic art in which the
genius of the Fanny Elsslers and Taglionis once triumphed. The
archaic character of the two ballets is heightened by the defects
and qualities of the principal interpreter. Tchechinskaïa
is entirely without charm, feeling or poetry; but her formal and
cold style, the tireless vigour of her pivoting, the mechanical
precision of her entrechats and the giddy agility of her
pirouettes make all the enthusiasts wild with delight.
During the last interval I spent a few minutes in the box of
the director of the imperial theatres, Teliakovsky, where the
prowess of Tchechinskaïa and her partner, Vladimirov, was
being celebrated in terms of rhapsody. An old aide-de-camp of
the Emperor said to me with a subtle smile:
"Our enthusiasm may seem somewhat exaggerated to you,
Ambassador; but Tchechinskaïa's art represents to us, or
at any rate men of my age, something that you don't perhaps see."
"What's that?"
He offered me a cigarette, and continued in a melancholy tone:
"The old ballets, which were the joy of my youth - somewhere
about 1875, in the reign of our dear Emperor Alexander II., alas! - presented
us with a very close picture of what Russian society was, and
ought to be. Order, punctiliousness, symmetry, work well done
everywhere; the result of which was refined enjoyment and
pleasure in perfect taste. Whereas these horrible modern ballets - Russian
ballets, as you call them in Paris - a dissolute and poisoned
art - why, they're revolution, anarchy! ... "
Monday, May 1, 1916.
On April 29 the English suffered a severe reverse in Mesopotamia.
General Townshend, who had occupied an entrenched position at
Kut-el-Amara, on the Tigris, has been compelled to capitulate
by lack of food and ammunition, after a siege of one hundred and
forty-eight days; the garrison was reduced to 9,000 men.
Simultaneously a grave insurrection, fomented by German agents,
has broken out in Ireland. A regular battle between the rebels
and English troops has made Dublin a scene of blood and fire.
Order appears to have been restored now.
Tuesday, May 2, 1916.
I have had tea with Princess K - -. She was in a talkative
and even expansive mood. For once, she took off her mask of irony,
her "black domino," though I must admit it suits her
to perfection. Glancing back over her past, a past which is so
full (though she is not yet thirty), and yet so empty, she told
me several stories of her sentimental experiences, from which
I gather that the Russian woman, in her duel with man, is almost
always vanquished beforehand, because she is much more refined
in her instincts, critical in her tastes, cultivated in mind,
emotional in temperament; she is much harder to please in the
selection of her sensations and pleasures, more poetical in imagination,
more exacting and expert in all the secrets of passion. Between
man and her there is a sort of moral, if not physical, anachronism,
and she represents a far higher stage in the evolution of the
human plant.
By way of retort I referred to certain men, mutual acquaintances,
who seem to me to combine all the qualities of heart and manner
any woman could desire. She replied:
"You only see them in society. If you could see them alone!
The best of them can only love us just enough to make us suffer."
"You've just put into words," I said, "what
Madame de Staël thought of Lord Byron: "I'll
give him credit for just enough delicacy of feeling to destroy
the happiness of a woman."
Wednesday, May 3, 1916.
Exchange of telegrams between the Russian and French High Commands
on the subject of the military assistance so long promised by
Rumania.
General Alexeiev emphasizes the exaggerated and unreasonable
character of the latest demands of the Rumanian General Staff.
General Iliesco has actually stated that he could no longer be
satisfied with the two conditions previously accepted, i.e.: (1)
an attack by the Salonica army with the object of attracting to
itself a large part of the Bulgarian forces, and (2) intervention
by Russian forces in the Dobrudja to neutralize the rest of the
Bulgarian army. He is now demanding that the Russians shall occupy
the whole of the Rustchuk region on the right bank of the Danube.
General Alexeiev has judiciously pointed out to General
Joffre that "the consequence of this new demand would be
to compel us to occupy the line Varna-Shumla-Razgrad and Rustchuk.
Even if we accepted this condition, which would transfer the centre
of gravity of our operations to the south and our extreme left
wing, the Rumanians would certainly do what they always do and
put forward some fresh demand, with a view to gaining time until
they are certain of attaining the object they have in view without
any effort of their own. We must make the Rumanians realize that
the adherence of Rumania is not an absolute necessity to the Allied
Powers. Rumania can count on a future reward which will correspond
exactly to the efforts she has made, and her military achievements."
General Joffre has told me that he entirely agrees with General
Alexeiev's opinion: "I share his view that it would
be useful to tell Rumania that her help, though desirable, is
not indispensable to us; and that if that country wishes ultimately
to obtain the rewards it covets, it must make up its mind to give
the Allied armies the effective co-operation of its arms in the
form we require... "
