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Originally published in 1923 - translated from the French by F. A. Holt, O.B.E.
Main Menu - Table of Contents
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
Volume I
CHAPTER IV
AUGUST 18-SEPTEMBER 11, 1914
The Tsar at Moscow. - Imposing
ceremonies. - Popular excitement. - Memories of 1812. - Sazonov's
views on the future of Germany. - Death of Pope Pius X. - The
German march on Paris. - The Russian offensive in East Prussia. - The
Soldau disaster: "We owe this sacrifice to France... " - The
capital of the Empire henceforth to be called Petrograd. - The
character of Nicholas I. - His superstitious fears bred of his
ill luck. - The Declaration of London: no separate peace. - Operations
of the Russian armies in Galicia, Poland and Prussia. - The victory
of the Marne.
Tuesday August 18, 1914.
When I arrived at Moscow this morning I went with Buchanan
about half-past ten to the great Kremlin Palace. We were ushered
into the St. George's hall, where the high dignitaries of the
empire, the ministers, delegates of the nobility, middle classes,
merchant community, charitable organizations, etc., were already
assembled in a dense and silent throng.
On the stroke of eleven o'clock the Tsar, the Tsaritsa and
the imperial family made their ceremonial entry. The grand dukes
had all gone to the front and besides the sovereigns there were
only the four young grand duchesses, the Tsar's daughters, the
Tsarevitch Alexis, who hurt his leg yesterday and had to be carried
in the arms of a Cossack, and the Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna,
the Tsaritsa's sister, abbess of the Convent of Martha-and-Mary
of Pity.(1)
The imperial party stopped in the centre of the hall. In a
full, firm voice the Tsar addressed the nobility and people of
Moscow. He proclaimed that, as the traditions of his ancestors
decreed, he had come to seek the moral support he needed in prayer
at the relics in the Kremlin. He declared that a heroic national
impulse was sweeping over all Russia, without distinction of race
or nationality, and concluded:
"From this place, the very heart of Russia, I send my
soul's greeting to my valiant troops and my noble allies. God
is with us!"
A continuous burst of cheering was his answer.
As the imperial group moved on the Grand Master of the Ceremonies
invited Buchanan and myself to follow the royal family, immediately
after the grand duchesses.
Through the St. Vladimir room and the Sacred Gallery we reached
the Red Staircase, the lower flight of which leads by a bridge
with a purple awning to the Ouspensky Sobor, the Cathedral
of the Assumption.
The moment the Tsar appeared a storm of cheering broke out
from the whole Kremlin where an enormous crowd, bare-headed and
struggling, thronged the pavements. At the same time all the bells
of the Ivan Veliky chimed in chorus, and the Great Bell of the
Ascension, cast from the metal saved from the ruins in 1812, sent
a thunderous boom above the din. Around us Holy Moscow, with her
sky-blue domes, copper spires and gilded bulbs, sparkled in the
sun like a fantastic mirage.
The hurricane of popular enthusiasm almost dominated the din
of the bells.
Count Benckendorff, Grand Marshal of the Court, came up to
me and said:
"Here's the revolution Berlin promised us!"
In so saying he was probably interpreting everyone's thoughts.
The Tsar's face was radiant. In the Tsaritsa's was joyous ecstasy.
Buchanan whispered:
"This is a sublime moment to have lived to see! Think
of all the historic future being made here and now!"
"Yes, and I'm thinking, too, of the historic past which
is seeing its fulfilment here. It was from this very spot on which
we now stand that Napoleon surveyed Moscow in flames. It was by
that very road down there that the Grand Army began its immortal
retreat!"
We were now at the steps of the cathedral. The Metropolitan
of Moscow, surrounded by his clergy, presented to their Majesties
the cross of Tsar Michael Feodorovitch, the first of the Romanovs,
and the holy water.
We entered the Ouspensky Sobor. This edifice
is square, surmounted by a gigantic dome supported by four massive
pillars, and all its walls are covered with frescoes on a gilded
background. The iconostasis, a lofty screen, is one mass of precious
stones. The dim light falling from the cupola and the flickering
glow of the candles kept the nave in a ruddy semi-darkness.
The Tsar and Tsaritsa stood in front of the right ambo at the
foot of the column against which the throne of the Patriarchs
is set.
In the left ambo the court choir, in XVIth century silver and
light blue costume, chanted the beautiful anthems of the orthodox
rite, perhaps the finest anthems in sacred music.
At the end of the nave opposite the iconastasis the three Metropolitans
of Russia and twelve archbishops stood in line. In the aisles
on their left was a group of one hundred and ten bishops, archimandrites
and abbots. A fabulous, indescribable wealth of diamonds, sapphires,
rubies and amethysts sparkled on the brocade of their mitres and
chasubles. At times the church glowed with a supernatural light.
Buchanan and I were on the Tsar's left, in front of the court.
Towards the end of the long service the Metropolitan brought
their Majesties a crucifix containing a portion of the true cross
which they reverently kissed. Then through a cloud of incense
the imperial family walked round the cathedral to kneel at the
world-famed relics and the tombs of the patriarchs.
During this procession I was admiring the bearing and attitudes
of the Grand Duchess Elizabeth, particularly when she bowed or
knelt. Although she is approaching fifty she has kept her slim
figure and all her old grace. Under her loose white woollen hood
she was as elegant and attractive as in the old days before her
widowhood, when she still inspired profane passions. To kiss the
figure of the Virgin of Vladimir which is set in the iconostasis
she had to place her knee on a rather high marble scat. The Tsaritsa
and the young grand duchesses who preceded her had had to make
two attempts - and clumsy attempts - before reaching the celebrated
ikon. She managed it in one supple, easy and queenly movement.
The service was now over. The procession was reformed and the
clergy took their place at its head. One last chant, soaring in
triumph, filled the nave. The door opened.
All the glories of Moscow suddenly came into view in a blaze
of sunshine. As the procession passed out I reflected that the
court of Byzantium, at the time of Constantine Porphyrogenetes,
Nicephorus Phocas or Andronicus Paleologue, can alone have seen
so amazing a display of sacerdotal pomp.
At the end of the covered-in passage the imperial carriages
were waiting. Before entering them the royal family stood for
a time facing the frantic cheers of the crowd. The Tsar said to
Buchanan and myself:
"Come nearer to me, Messieurs les Ambassadeurs. These
cheers are as much for you as for me."
Amid the torrent of acclamations we three discussed the war
which had just begun. The Tsar congratulated me on the wonderful
ardour of the French troops and reiterated the assurance of his
absolute faith in final victory. The Tsaritsa tried to give me
a few kind words. I helped her out:
"What a comforting sight for your Majesty! How splendid
it is to see all these people swept by patriotic exaltation and
fervour for their rulers!"
Her answer was almost inaudible but her strained smile and
the strange spell of her wrapt gaze, magnetic and inspired, revealed
her inward intoxication.
The Grand Duchess Elizabeth joined in our conversation. Her
face in the frame of her long white woollen veil was alive with
spirituality. Her delicate features and white skin, the deep,
far-away look in her eyes, the low, soft tone of her voice and
the luminous glow round her brows all betrayed a being in close
and constant contact with the ineffable and the divine.
As Their Majesties returned to the palace Buchanan and I left
the Kremlin amidst an ovation which accompanied us to our hotel.
I spent the afternoon seeing Moscow, lingering particularly
over the places hallowed by memories of 1812. They stood out in
sharp relief by contrast with the present moment.
At the Kremlin the ghost of Napoleon seems to rise up at every
step. From the Red Staircase the Emperor watched the progress
of the fire during the baneful night of September 16. It
was there that he took counsel of Murat, Eugène, Berthier
and Ney in the midst of the leaping flames and under a blinding
shower of cinders. It was there that he had that clear and pitiless
vision of his impending ruin: "All this," he said repeatedly,
"is the herald of great disasters!" It was by this road
that he hastily went down to the Moskowa accompanied by a few
officers and men of his guard. It was there that he entered the
winding streets of the burning city. "We walked," says
Ségur, "upon an earth of fire, under a sky of fire,
between two walls of fire." Alas! does not the present war
promise us a second edition of this Dantesque scene? And how many
copies to the edition?
North of the Kremlin and between the Church of St. Basil and
the Iberian Gate lies the Red Square, of glorious and tragic memory.
If I had to give a list of those spots in which the visions and
sentiments of the past have most vividly passed before my eyes
I should include the Roman Campagna, the Acropolis at Athens,
the Eyub cemetery at Stambul, the Alhambra in Granada, the Tartar
city of Pekin, the Hradschin in Prague and the Kremlin of Moscow.
This curious conglomeration of palaces, towers, churches, monasteries,
chapels, barracks, arsenals and bastions, this incoherent jumble
of sacred and secular buildings, this complex of functions as
fortress, sanctuary, seraglio, harem, necropolis and prison, this
blend of advanced civilization and archaic barbarism, this violent
contrast of the crudest materialism and the most lofty spirituality - are
they not the whole history of Russia, the whole epic of the Russian
nation, the whole inward drama of the Russian soul?
Towering above the banks of the Moskowa to the south of the
Red Square the Church of St. Basil rears its prodigious and paradoxical
architecture, the architecture of dreamland. The most conflicting
styles, Byzantine, Gothic, Lombard, Persian, and Russian seem
to have been incorporated. Yet an imposing harmony emerges from
all these slender, aspiring, twisting, many-hued forms and all
this riot of imagination.
It pleases me to think that the Italian Renaissance was introduced
into the Kremlin by Sophy Paleologue, niece of the last Emperor
of Constantinople, who fled to Rome. In 1472 she married the Tsar
of Moscow, Ivan III, known to history as "Ivan the Great."
It was through her that he henceforth regarded himself as heir
to the Byzantine Empire. He took the two-headed eagle as Russia's
new arms. She surrounded herself with Italian artists and engineers.
In her reign a gentle breeze of Hellenism and classical culture
tempered the rigours of Muscovite barbarism for a time.
Towards evening I ended my walk on Sparrow Hill, the view from
which embraces Moscow and the whole vale of the Moskowa. It used
to be called the "Hill of Salvation," because Russian
travellers, when they had their first glimpse of the holy city
from this spot, used to stop for a moment to cross themselves
and offer up a prayer. Thus for the Slav Rome Sparrow Hill awakes
the same memories as Monte Mario for the Latin Rome. The same
feeling of wondering and pious admiration made the pilgrims of
the Middle Ages fall on their knees when they beheld the City
of Martyrs from the heights which crown the banks of the Tiber.
At half-past two in the afternoon of September 14, 1812, in
brilliant sunshine, the advance guard of the French army ascended
Sparrow Hill in open order. They stopped, as if smitten dumb with
the majesty of the sight. Clapping their hands they cried out
gleefully: "Moscow! Moscow!" Napoleon came up. In a
transport of delight he called out: "So this is
the famous city!" But he immediately added: "It
was high time!"
Chateaubriand has summed up the scene in a metaphor rich in
picturesque romanticism: "Moscow, a European princess on
the frontier of her empire, arrayed in all the glories of Asia,
seemed to have been brought there to wed Napoleon."
Did any vision of that kind flit through the mind of the Emperor?
I doubt it. Thoughts far more serious, uneasy forebodings, already
claimed him.
At ten in the evening I left for St. Petersburg.
From the political point of view to-day's happenings have left
me with two strong impressions. The first came to me in the Ouspensky
Sobor as I watched the Emperor standing before the iconostasis.
His person, his entourage and the whole setting of the ceremony
seemed an eloquent interpretation of the very principle of Tsarism
as it was defined in the imperial manifesto of June 16, 1914,
ordering the dissolution of the first Duma:
As it is God himself who has given Us our supreme power it
is before His altar alone that We are responsible for the destinies
of Russia.
My second impression is the frantic enthusiasm of the Muscovite
people for their Tsar. I never thought that the monarchical illusion
and imperial fetishism were still so deeply rooted in the heart
of the moujik. There are very many Russian proverbs which
express this unshakeable faith of the poor and lowly in their
master: "The Tsar is good: it is his servants who are bad
... The Tsar is not guilty of the sufferings of his people; the
tchinovniks hide the truth from him!" But there is
also another proverb it is wise to remember because it explains,
on the other side of the shield, all the desperation and protest
of the popular mind:
It's very high up to God! It's a very long way to the Tsar!
And to set a true value on the ovations which the Tsar received
this morning on the Red Square one must not forget that on this
same spot, on December 22, 1905, it was found necessary to fire
on the crowd which was singing the Marseillaise.
Wednesday, August 19, 1914.
I returned to St. Petersburg this morning.
The French troops are making progress in the valleys of the
Vosges on the Alsace side. The forts of Liège are still
resisting but the German army is not allowing itself to be held
up by these forts and is marching straight on Brussels.
The Russian troops are rapidly concentrating on the frontier
of East Prussia.
Thursday, August 20, 1914.
Sazonov came for a tête-à-tête luncheon
with me to-day. We discussed in an academic sort of way the objects
it will be our business to attain when peace comes, objects we
shall only obtain by force of arms. Indeed, we have no doubt that
Germany will accept none of our demands until we have put her
out of the field. The present war is not the kind of war that
ends with a political treaty after a battle of Solferino or Sadowa.
It is a war to the death in which each group of belligerents stakes
its very existence.
"My formula's a simple one," said Sazonov. "We
must destroy German imperialism. We can only do that by a series
of military victories so that we have a long and very stubborn
war before us. The Emperor has no illusions on that score ...
But great political changes are essential if Kaisertum
is not to rise at once from its ashes and the Hohenzollerns
are never again to be in a position to aspire to universal dominion.
In addition to the restitution of Alsace-Lorraine to France, Poland
must be restored, Belgium enlarged, Hanover reconstituted, Slesvig
returned to Denmark, Bohemia freed and all the German colonies
given to France, England and Belgium. etc."
"It's a gigantic programme. But I agree with you that
we ought to do our utmost to realize it if we want our work to
be lasting."
Then we worked out the forces of the respective belligerents,
their reserves of man-power and financial, industrial, agricultural,
etc., resources. We looked into our chances of deriving advantage
from the internal dissensions of Austria and Hungary - a subject
which inspired me to remark:
"There's another factor we must not neglect - public opinion
among the German masses. It is very important that we should be
well informed as to what is going on there. You ought to organize
an intelligence service in the great socialist centres which are
nearest to your territory, Berlin, Dresden, Leipzig, Chemnitz,
Breslau."
"It's very difficult to organize."
"Yes, but indispensable. Don't forget that after a military
defeat it will undoubtedly be the German Socialists who will force
the jack-boot caste to make peace. If we could only help them
... "
Sazonov started. In a sharp, dry voice he exclaimed:
"Not that! No, no! Revolution will never be one
of our weapons!"
"You may be quite certain that it's a weapon our enemies
will use against you! Germany hasn't waited for a possible defeat
of your armies - nor even for the outbreak of war - to establish
an intelligence service in your working class circles. You won't
deny that the strikes which broke out in Petersburg during the
President of the Republic's visit were instigated by German agents."
"I know that only too well. But I tell you again revolution
will never be one of our weapons, even against Germany."
Our conversation rested there. Sazonov had ceased to be at
all expansive. The evocation of the spectre of revolution had
suddenly frozen him.
To ease his mind I took him to Krestovsky Island in my car.
There we walked about under the splendid trees which stretch to
the sparkling, chequered waters of the Neva estuary.
We spoke of the Tsar. I said to Sazonov:
"What a wonderful impression he made on me the other day
at Moscow! He was the living embodiment of resolution , persistence
and strength."
"He made the same impression on me and it seemed to me
a very happy augury - but a much needed augury, for after all
... "
He stopped abruptly as if he dare not pursue his thought. I
pressed him to continue. He took my arm and said in a tone of
affectionate confidence:
"Don't forget that the Emperor's salient characteristic
is a mystic resignation."
Then he told me the following significant anecdote he had heard
from his brother-in-law, Stolypin, ex-President of the Council,
who was assassinated on September 18, 1911.
It was in 1909 when Russia was beginning to forget the nightmare
of the Japanese War and the troubles which followed it. One day
Stolypin asked the Tsar's approval of a serious piece of domestic
legislation. Nicholas II listened to him absent-mindedly and then
shrugged his shoulders in a sceptical, indifferent sort of way,
as much as to say: "That or something else, what does it
matter?"
At last he remarked in a melancholy tone:
"Peter Arkadievitch. I succeed in nothing I undertake,
I've no luck at all .... And anyhow the human will is so impotent!"
Stolypin, a courageous and resolute character, protested vigorously.
The Tsar then asked him:
"Have you ever read the Lives of the Saints?"
"Yes .... some of it at any rate. If I remember
rightly there are quite twenty volumes of it."
"And do you know on what day my birthday falls?"
"How could I forget it? It is May 6."
"What Saint's day is it?"
"Forgive me, Sire, I'm afraid I've forgotten."
"The Patriarch Job."
"Then God be praised! Your Majesty's reign will end gloriously,
for Job, after piously enduring the most cruel tests of his faith,
found blessings and rewards showered upon his head!"
"No, no, Peter Arkadievitch, believe me! I have a presentiment - more
than a presentiment, a secret conviction - that I am destined
for terrible trials ... but I shall not receive my reward on
this earth. How often have I not applied to myself the
words of Job:
"Hardly have I entertained a fear than it comes to pass
and all the evils I foresee descend upon my head."
It is certain that this war is going to compel all the belligerents
to put forth their last ounce of moral strength and organizing
power. The story Sazonov has just told me brings me to an observation
I have often made since I came to live among the Russians, an
observation which in a way sums up their national physiognomy.
If the word mysticism is used in its broad sense the Russian
is pre-eminently a mystic. He is a mystic not merely in his religious
life but also in his social, political and emotional life.
Behind all the reasoning which dictates his actions a certain
belief is always apparent. He reasons and acts as if he believes
that human events are produced by secret, superhuman forces, by
occult, arbitrary and autocratic powers. This disposition, more
or less avowed and conscious, is directly connected with his imagination
which is naturally uncontrolled and dispersive. It is also the
product of his atavism, geographical position, climate and history.
Left to himself he feels no need to enquire how things happen,
or what are their practical and necessary determining factors,
or by what rational and successive agencies they can be produced
or averted. Indifferent to logical certainty he has no taste for
considered and accurate observation or analytical and deductive
enquiry. He relies less on his intelligence than on his imagination
and emotional faculties; he cares less about understanding than
about "sensing" and divination. Usually he acts only
on intuition or by routine and natural helplessness.
From the religious point of view his faith is contemplative,
visionary, filled with vague hopes, superstitious fears and Messianic
expectations; always in search of direct communication with the
invisible and the divine.
From the political point of view the conception of effective
cause is utterly foreign to him. Tsarism seems to him a metaphysical
entity. He attributes to the Tsar and his ministers intrinsic
virtue, self-contained dynamic force and a kind of magic power
to govern the empire, redress abuses, effect reforms, establish
the reign of justice, etc. By what legislative measures, through
what administrative machinery can they effectually do so? That
is their business, their secret.
In his emotional life also, the Russian constantly feels himself
the submissive instrument of strange forces which lead him where
they will. By way of apology for his sins and shortcomings, extravagances
and surrenders, he usually pleads ill luck, fate, the mysterious
influence of the Beyond and frequently even sorcery and
the enchantments of the devil.
Such views do not exactly promote personal, responsible effort
and manly, sustained action, and that is why the Russian so often
surprises us with his indifference, his "wait and see"
attitude and his passive and resigned inaction.
Conversely - and though it is almost impossible to appeal to
his soul - he is capable of the most splendid impulses and the
most heroic sacrifices. And his whole history proves that he is
always true to himself when he feels himself really called on
...
Pope Pius X died last night. Will any conclave ever open in
graver circumstances or in the midst of a greater upheaval of
human affairs? Will the College of Cardinals find in its ranks
a pontiff with sufficient humanity, depth of piety, strength of
character and astuteness of intellect to play the capital and
unprecedented role which the war offers to the Holy See?
Friday, August 21, 1914.
On the Belgian and French fronts our operations are taking
a bad turn. I have received an order to make representations to
the Imperial Government to accelerate the projected offensive
of the Russian armies as much as possible.
I went to the War Minister and put the French Government's
request to him with considerable vigour. He sent for an officer
and immediately dictated to him from my dictation - a telegram
to the Grand Duke Nicholas.
Then I questioned General Sukhomlinov about the operations
in progress on the Russian front. I took note of what he told
me in the following terms:
(1) The Grand Duke Nicholas is determined to advance full
speed on Berlin and Vienna, more especially Berlin, passing between
the fortresses of Thorn, Posen and Breslau.
(2) The Russian armies have taken the offensive along the
entire front.
(3) The forces attacking East Prussia have already advanced
20 to 45 kilometres on hostile territory; their line is approximately
Soldau-Neidenburg-Lyck-Angerburg-Insterburg.
(4) In Galicia the Russian troops advancing on Lemberg have
reached the Bug and the Sereth.
(5) The forces operating on the left bank of the Vistula will
advance straight on Berlin the moment the northwestern armies
have succeeded in "fixing" the enemy.
(6) The twenty-eight corps now at grips with Germany and Austria
represent approximately 1,120,000 men.
Yesterday the Germans entered Brussels. The Belgian army is
withdrawing to Antwerp. Between Metz and the Vosges the French
army has been compelled to retire after suffering heavy losses.
Saturday, August 22, 1914.
The Germans are outside Namur. While one of their corps is
bombarding the town their main body is continuing its progress
towards the sources of the Sambre and the Oise. The plan of the
German offensive through Belgium is now being revealed in all
its grandeur.
Sunday, August 23, 1914.
Our allies from across the Channel are now beginning to appear
on the Belgian front. As a matter of fact an English cavalry division
has already scattered a German column - at Waterloo! Wellington
and Blücher ought to have turned in their graves. A great
battle is opening between Mons and Charleroi.
The Russians are advancing in East Prussia; they have just
occupied Insterburg.
Monday, August 24, 1914.
The Ministry wires me from Paris:
Information from an unimpeachable source has brought to our
knowledge the fact that two active(2) corps
which were originally opposed to the Russian army have now been
transferred to the French front and replaced on Germany's eastern
frontier by landwehr formations. The German General Staff's plan
of campaign is too clear for there to be any need for us to insist
on the necessity of the Russian armies prosecuting their offensive
à outrance in the direction of Berlin. Inform the Russian
Government at once and insist.
I made immediate representations to the Grand Duke Nicholas
and General Sukhomlinov and simultaneously informed the Emperor.
This evening I am in a position to assure the French Government
that the Russian army is continuing its march on Königsberg
and Thorn with all possible energy and speed. An important action
is about to open between the Narev and the Vkra.
This very afternoon Prince Catacuzene, an aide-de-camp of the
Grand Duke Nicholas, has been brought to the French Hospital in
St. Petersburg. He was shot through the chest near Gumbinnen.
Doctor Cresson, the Senior Medical Officer, had a few minutes'
talk with him. The wounded officer is still quivering with the
ardour, the spirit of the offensive, which animates the Russian
troops. He has enthusiastically affirmed that the Grand Duke Nicholas
is bent on forcing his way to Berlin at any cost.
Tuesday, August 25, 1914.
The Germans have won at Charleroi. They have also inflicted
a serious check upon us near Neufchâteau, south of the Belgian
Ardennes. All the French and English armies are retreating on
the Oise and the Semoy.
These tidings, though doctored by the censorship, have started
a current of vague alarm in St. Petersburg against which I struggle
to the best of my ability, availing myself of a subterfuge which
Tolstoy attributes to Prince Bagration in War and Peace. It
is a subterfuge that ought to find a place in the moral breviary
of all Commanders-in-Chief. On the battlefield of Austerlitz the
Prince was receiving one alarming message after another. He received
them with the most perfect composure and even an air of approval,
as if what he was being told was exactly what he had expected.
In the north of East Prussia the Russians have cut the crossings
of the Alle and the Angerapp; the Germans are withdrawing towards
Königsberg.
Japan declared war on Germany the day before yesterday. A Japanese
squadron is bombarding Kiaochau.
Wednesday, August 26, 1914.
The French and English armies are continuing their retreat.
The entrenched camp at Maubeuge is invested. An advance guard
of German cavalry is passing through the suburbs of Roubaix.
I have seen to it that these events should be presented by
the Russian press in the most suitable (and perhaps truest) light,
i.e., as a temporary and methodical retirement, a prelude to a
volte face in the near future for the purpose of a more
formidable and vigorous offensive. All the papers support this
theory.
The Grand Duke Nicholas has sent me a message through Sazonov:
"The withdrawal ordered by General Joffre is in conformity
with all the rules of strategy. We must hope that henceforth the
French army will expose itself as little as possible, refuse to
let itself be broken through or demoralized and reserve all its
offensive capacity and liberty to manoeuvre until the time when
the Russian army is in a position to deal decisive blows."
I asked Sazonov:
"Won't that time be soon? ... Don't forget that our
losses are enormous and that the Germans are 250 kilometres from
Paris! "
"I believe that the Grand Duke Nicholas has decided to
start an important operation to retain the largest possible number
of Germans on our front."
"Somewhere round Soldau and Mlava, no doubt
"Yes."
In that short answer I thought I detected a certain reticence
so I begged Sazonov to be a little more explicit.
"Think what a serious moment this is for France!"
I said.
"I know. I'm not forgetting what we owe France. The Tsar
and the Grand Duke don't forget it either; you can count on our
doing everything in our power to help the French army ... But
from the practical point of view the difficulties are great. General
Jilinsky, who is commanding the north-western front, considers
that an offensive in East Prussia is doomed to certain defeat.
because our troops are still too scattered and their concentration
is meeting with many obstacles. You know how Masuria is intersected
by forests, rivers and lakes. Janushkevitch, Chief of the General
Staff, shares Jilinsky's views and is protesting strongly against
the offensive. But Danilov, the Quartermaster-General, is insisting,
not less forcibly, that we have no right to leave our ally in
danger and ought to attack at once, notwithstanding the indubitable
risks of the plan. The Grand Duke Nicholas has just ordered an
immediate attack. I shouldn't be surprised if the operation had
already begun."
Thursday, August 27, 1914.
The Germans are at Péronne and Longwy.
A Ministry of National Defence has been established in Paris.
Viviani remains President of the Council, without portfolio; Briand
becomes Minister of Justice; Delcassé, Minister for Foreign
Affairs; Millerand, War Minister; Ribot, Finance Minister. Two
Unified Socialists, Jules Guesde and Marcel Sembat, enter the
Cabinet.
This combination has produced an excellent effect here. It
is interpreted as both a striking demonstration of our national
solidarity and a guarantee of the inflexible resolution with which
France will prosecute the war.
Friday, August 28, 1914.
The Grand Duke Nicholas has kept his word. On his imperative
and repeated orders General Samsonov's five corps attacked the
enemy yesterday in the Mlava-Soldau region. The point of attack
has been chosen well to compel the Germans to bring up a large
force, for a Russian victory in the direction of Allenstein would
have the double result of clearing their path to Allenstein and
cutting the line of retreat of the German army which has just
been beaten at Gumbinnen.
Saturday, August 29, 1914.
The battle at Soldau is still raging furiously. Whatever may
be its ultimate result it is very satisfactory that the action
should be drawn out so that the French and English armies may
have time to reform and advance once more.
The Russian southern armies are forty kilometres from Lemberg.
Sunday, August 30, 1914.
As I entered Sazonov's room this morning I was struck with
the gloomy and strained look in his face
"Anything new?" I said.
"Nothing good."
"Aren't things going well in France?"
"The Germans are approaching Paris."
"Yes, but our armies are intact and their moral is
excellent. I am confidently awaiting their volte face
... And what about the Battle of Soldau? "
He was silent, biting his lips and with gloom written all over
his face. I went on:
"A check? "
"A great disaster ... but I've no business talking to
you about it. The Grand Duke Nicholas doesn't want the news known
for several days. It will get about only too soon and too fast
as our losses have been ghastly."
I asked him for details but he told me he had had no precise
information:
"Samsonov's army has been destroyed. That's all I know."
After a short silence he continued in a simple, natural tone:
"We owed this sacrifice to France as she has showed herself
a perfect ally."
I thanked him for this thought. Then, in spite of the heavy
weight we both had on our minds, we turned to the discussion of
current affairs.
In the city no one as yet knows anything about the Soldau disaster
but the continued retreat of the French army and the rapid march
of the Germans on Paris are giving rise to the most pessimistic
anticipations among the public. The leaders of the Rasputin clique
are even announcing that France will soon be compelled to make
peace. To the highly-placed individual who came to tell me of
this I replied that the character of the statesmen who have just
come into power makes such a suggestion utterly unthinkable, that
in any case the game is anything but lost and perhaps the day
of victory is nigh at hand.
Monday, August 31, 1914.
At Soldau the Russians have lost 110,000 men, 20,000 killed
or wounded and 90,000 prisoners. Two of the five corps engaged,
the XII1th and XVIth have been surrounded. All the artillery has
been lost.
The anticipations of the High Command were only too accurate:
the offensive was premature. The initial cause of the disaster
was the inadequate concentration of the troops and the extreme
difficulty in which the transport found itself in a region intersected
by rivers and dotted with lakes and forests. It appears too that
the disaster was aggravated by a great strategical mistake. It
is said that General Artamanoff, who was in command of the left
wing, fell back twenty versts without informing General Samsonoff.
One point where the battle raged most fiercely was the village
of Tannenberg, thirty-five kilometres north of Soldau. It was
here that in 1410 King Vladislas V of Poland overthrew the Teutonic
Knights - the first victory of Slavism over Germanism. The Teutons
have waited five hundred and four years for their revenge but
it has been all the more terrible.
Tuesday, September 1, 1914.
Sazonov told me this morning that according to a telegram from
Isvolsky the Government of the Republic has decided to remove
to Bordeaux if the Commander-in-Chief considers that the higher
interests of national defence compels him not to bar the German
road to Paris.
"It is a grievous but splendid decision," he said
to me, and one I should have expected from French patriotism."
Then he read out to me the telegrams sent on August 30 and
31 by Colonel Ignatiev, Attaché at French G.H.Q. Every
word went to my heart like a knife:
The German army, turning the left flank of the French army,
is advancing irresistibly on Paris by stages averaging thirty
kilometres ... In my opinion the entry of the Germans into
Paris is now only a question of days unless the French have sufficient
forces at their disposal to carry out a counter-attack against
the turning group without running a risk of being separated from
the other armies.
Fortunately he recognizes that the spirit of the troops
remains excellent.
Sazonov asked me:
"Is there really no means of defending Paris? I thought
that Paris was so well fortified! . I cannot hide from you that
the capture of Paris would have a deplorable effect here - especially
after our Soldau disaster. People are ultimately bound to find
out that we have lost 110,000 men at Soldau."
Taking up Colonel Ignatiev's telegrams I combated his conclusions
to the best of my ability: I asserted that the entrenched camp
of Paris was strongly armed and insisted that General Galliéni's
character guaranteed a stubborn resistance.
A ukase, signed yesterday evening, decrees that the city of
St. Petersburg will henceforth be called Petrograd. As a political
demonstration and a protest of Slav nationalism against German
intrusion the step is as emphatic as opportune. But from a historical
point of view it is a mistake. The present capital of the Empire
is not a Slav city; it represents only the recent past of Russian
life; it is situated in a Finnish region, at the gates of Finland
where Swedish culture predominated so long and on the borders
of the Baltic provinces where German influence still holds sway.
Its architecture is wholly western, its physiognomy quite modern.
That is exactly what Peter the Great desired to make St. Petersburg - a
modern, western city. The name Petrograd is thus not merely
a mistake but a historical contradiction in terms.
Wednesday, September 2, 1914.
The Russian General Staff's communiqué announces the
Soldau disaster in the following terms:
In the south of East Prussia the Germans, disposing of very
superior forces, have attacked two of our army corps which have
sustained considerable losses. General Samsonov has been killed.
The public is not deceived by this economy of language. Everywhere
all sorts of versions of the battle are being hawked round in
undertones. The losses are put still higher. General Rennenkampf
is accused of treason. It is said that the Germans have spies
even among the men around General Sukhomlinov himself. It is also
said that General Samsonov has not been killed but killed himself,
refusing to survive the destruction of his army.
General Bielaiev, Chief of Staff of the Army at the Ministry
of War, assures me that the vigorous offensive of the Russians
in East Prussia and the rapidity of their advance on Lemberg are
compelling the Germans to bring back east the troops which were
on their way to France:
"I can assure you," he said, " that the German
General Staff never expected to see us in the field straight away.
They thought our mobilization and concentration would be a far
slower business. They had calculated that we could not take the
offensive anywhere before the 15th or 20th September, and
they thought that between now and then they would have time to
finish with the French army. So I consider that henceforth. the
Germans have failed in the execution of their original design."
Thursday, September 3, 1914.
From the Oise to the Vosges the seven German armies, a terrible
steel monster, are proceeding with their enveloping movement at
a speed and with a skill in manoeuvre and a concentration of force
such as no other war has ever known. At the present moment the
line of the French and English armies runs thus from east to west:
Belfort-Verdun-Vitry-le François-Sézanne-Meaux-Pontoise.
Fortunately in Galicia the Russians have been brilliantly successful.
They entered Lemberg yesterday. The retreat of the Austro-Hungarians
has assumed the character of a rout.
Since August 27 the Russians, starting from the Kovel-Rovno-Proskurov
line, have advanced 200 kilometres. In this operation they have
captured 70,000 men and 300 guns. On the Lublin-Kholm front the
Austro-Hungarians are still offering resistance.
Friday, September 4, 1914.
The threat hanging over Paris has started a wave of pessimism
in Russian society and the victory of Lemberg is almost forgotten.
No one doubts that the Germans will storm the entrenched camp
of Paris. And then France will be obliged to capitulate, so it
is said. Germany will then bring her whole mass against Russia.
Where do these rumours come from? By whom are they spread?
Only too much light has been thrown on this subject by a conversation
I have just had with one of my secret informers, N - -. I have
my doubts about him, like all men of his trade, but he is well
informed about what is said and done in the immediate entourage
of the sovereigns. Besides, at the moment he has a special and
tangible reason for telling me the truth. After praising the wonderful
patriotism with which France is inspired he continued:
"I have come to your Excellency to be cheered up a little,
as I shall not hide from you that I am hearing the most sinister
prophecies on all sides."
"Surely they could wait for the result of the battle which
is beginning on the Marne! And even if this battle turns out unfavourably
for us the issue will be in no way desperate... "
I supported my statement with a number of facts and reasonable
anticipations which left me in no doubt, so I said, of our ultimate
victory so long as our sang-froid and tenacity did not
fail us.
"That's true," continued N - -, "quite true!
It does me good to hear you talk like this. But there's one factor
you have not allowed for and which plays a large part in the pessimism
I have observed in every quarter .... and particularly in high
places."
"How do you mean, particularly in high places
"Yes, it's in the upper ranks of the court and society
that the greatest nervousness is shown-among those who are in
daily touch with the sovereigns."
"Why? "
"Well, because ... because it is in that quarter that
people have long been convinced that the Emperor is dogged by
ill-luck. They know that he fails in everything he undertakes,
that fate is always against him, in short that he is manifestly
doomed to misfortune. Besides it's said that the lines of his
hand are terrifying."
"Do you mean to say that people let themselves be swayed
by that sort of tomfoolery!"
"What do you expect, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur? We
are Russians and therefore superstitious ... Anyhow, isn't
it obvious that the Tsar is predestined to disasters?"
Lowering his voice-as if he were telling me some terrible secret - and
fixing me with his sharp, yellow eyes in which dull flames glowed
from time to time, he gave me a list of the incredible series
of accidents, miscalculations, reverses and disasters which has
marked the reign of Nicholas II in the last nineteen years. The
series opens with the coronation when two thousand moujiks
were crushed to death in a stampede in Khodynsky meadows,
near Moscow. A few weeks later the Tsar went to Kiev and saw a
steamer with three hundred spectators founder in the Dnieper under
his eyes. After a further few weeks he saw his favourite minister,
Lobanov, die in his train quite suddenly. Living as he did in
constant peril of the bombs of anarchists his whole soul was longing,
for a son, a Tsarevitch. Four girls were successively born to
him and when God at last gave him an heir the child bore the germ
of an incurable disease. As he has no taste for either pomp or
company all he desires is to forget the responsibilities of power
in the tranquil delights of family life. His wife is an unhappy
neurotic who carries an atmosphere of unrest and worry about with
her.
But that's not all. The Tsar had dreamed of the ultimate reign
of peace on earth but was dragged by a few schemers at his court
into the war in the Far East. His armies were beaten, one after
another, in Manchuria. His fleets were sunk, one after another,
in the Chinese seas.
Then a fierce tempest of revolution swept across Russia. Risings
and massacres followed each other in uninterrupted succession
in Warsaw, the Caucasus, Odessa, Kiev, Vologda, Moscow, the Baltic
provinces, Kharkov, St. Petersburg and Kronstadt. The murder of
the Grand Duke Sergius Alexandrovich opened the era of political
assassinations. And just when the hurricane had begun to die down
Stolypin, the President of the Council who was hailed as the saviour
of Russia, fell one evening under the revolver of a member of
the Secret Police right in front of the imperial box in Kiev theatre.
Having reached the end of this lugubrious list N - - concluded:
"Your Excellency will admit that the Tsar is doomed to
misfortune and that we have a right to quake when we contemplate
the prospects before us in this war."
"But it's not by quaking that one controls fate, for I'm
one of those who believe that fate is obliged to reckon with us.
But as you are so sensitive to evil influences have you failed
to observe that to-day the Tsar has among his adversaries a man
who takes second place to no one, so far as ill-luck is concerned-the
Emperor Francis Joseph? There's no risk at all in a bout with
him; you simply can't help winning!"
"Yes, but there's Germany, too. We're not equal to beating
her!"
"No, not by yourselves. But you have France and England
at your side ... So for goodness' sake don't start with the assumption
that you're not equal to beating Germany. Fight with all your
might, all the heroism you are capable of, and you will see that
victory will seem more certain every day!"
Cardinal della Chiesa has been elected Pope. He is taking the
name of Benedict XV. Since the far-away days of Gregory VII no
rôle so magnificent and pre-eminent has been offered to
the Vicar of Christ.
Saturday, September 5, 1914
Agreement has been reached in London as to the wording of the
declaration whereby France, England and Russia engage not to make
peace separately. This clause appeared in the Franco-Russian military
convention of 1892. The accession of England to our alliance
has made this new agreement necessary and its solemn announcement
will probably have a very great effect.
The Russians have occupied Strij, eighty kilometres beyond
Lemberg. Their cavalry advance-guard have approached the Carpathian
passes. Vienna is in a panic.
Sunday, September 6, 1914.
At the moment the whole interest of the war is focussed on
the western front. The German First Army under the command of
General von Kluck, which is operating on the extreme right of
the enveloping wing, has just turned suddenly southwards leaving
Paris on its right, as if it were trying to outflank our left
wing and throw it back over the Seine in the direction of Fontainebleau.
Thus the decisive hour has struck. Is the French army going to
stand fast at last? In the events now opening the stake is nothing
less than the future of France, the future of Europe, the future
of the world.
Monday, September 7, 1914.
In Galicia the operations of the Russian army are developing
splendidly. The Austro-Hungarians have just suffered two severe
reverses, one in front of Lublin and the other in the neighbourhood
or Rava Russka. On the other hand the Russians are giving way
before the German thrust in East Prussia.
In France the battle continues stubbornly. For the moment the
Germans seem to have given up the idea of a direct attack on Paris.
Tuesday, September 8, 1914.
Maubeuge surrendered yesterday after a frightful bombardment
lasting eleven days. On the rest of the front, and particularly
north-cast of Paris there is violent and uninterrupted fighting.
But nothing decisive has happened yet.
General Bielaiev has confided to me that Hindenburg's army,
which is operating in East Prussia, has received considerable
reinforcements and the Russians are compelled to evacuate the
region of the Masurian Lakes.
"From the point of view of sound strategy our retreat
ought to have begun several days ago, but the Grand Duke Nicholas
wanted to do everything to take the weight off the French army."
Wednesday, September 9, 1914.
East of Paris, from the Ourcq to the environs of Montmirail
the French and English troops are slowly advancing. A general
decision cannot be far away now.
Russian public opinion, with a very true instinct, has taken
far more interest in the battle of the Marne than in the victories
in Galicia. It is plain that the issue of the war is being fought
out on the western front. If France goes down Russia will be compelled
to abandon the struggle. The fighting in East Prussia proves that
afresh every day. It shows that the Russians are not in the same
category as the Germans who overwhelm them by their superior tactical
training, generalship and the wealth of transport facilities at
their disposal. On the other hand the Russians seem to be quite
equal to the Austro-Hungarians and even their superior in the
matter of élan and tenacity under fire.
Thursday, September 10, 1914.
East of the Vistula, on the frontiers of western Galicia and
Poland, the Russians have broken the enemy's line between Krasnik
and Tomassof. But in East Prussia General Rennenkampf's army is
in confusion.
From France the news is satisfactory. Our troops have crossed
the Marne between Meaux and Chateau-Thierry. Outside Sézanne
the Prussian Guard has been thrown back north of the marshes of
St. Gond. If our right wing, the "hinge" between Bar-le-Duc
and Verdun, holds firm the whole German line will be dislocated.
Friday, September 11, 1914.
Victory! We have won the Battle of the Marne! Along the whole
front the German armies are retreating northwards! Paris is now
out of reach! France is saved! The Russians, too, have won a great
victory between Krasnik and Tomassof. The Austro-Hungarian forces,
supported by German reinforcements, amounted to more than a million
men. Their artillery comprised more than 2,500 guns. On the other
side of the shield General Rennenkampf's army has had to evacuate
East Prussia. The Germans are in occupation of Suvalki.
Chapter Footnotes
1. Widow of the Grand Duke Serge-Alexandrovich,
who was assassinated at Moscow on February 27.1905. She herself
was murdered by the Bolsheviks on July 17, 1918.
2. As opposed to reserve corps (Tr.).
