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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 VII
DECEMBER 1-31, 1914
Oppressive activities of the
Russian administration in Galicia. - The Germans resume the offensive
in Poland; the Russians evacuate Lodz. - Pope Benedict XV and
the Truce of God. - Wave of pessimism in Russian society. - Victory
of the Serbs at Valievo. - The Russian operations suddenly stop. - No
more rifles or ammunition. - The curse of a system. - At Kutosov's
tomb. - Courage and gentleness of the Russian soldier. - Madame
Vyrubova; her close friendship with the Empress. - The end of
the year; gloomy forebodings.
Tuesday, December 1, 1914.
Hardly has Russian authority been established in Galicia than
the officials introduce the worst practices of russification as
a sort of gift of welcome.
When entering Galician territory two months ago the Grand Duke
Nicholas issued a proclamation couched in generous terms:
To you, the peoples of Austria and Hungary, Russia brings
freedom and the realization of your national dreams. She desires
that each of you may henceforth grow and prosper, retaining the
precious heritage of its language and its religion.
Of this fine programme already nothing is left. Russian nationalism
stalks triumphant through Galicia.
The administrative authority is concentrated in the hands of
a governor-general, Count Vladimir Alexeievitch Bobrinsky. I know
him well; he's an intelligent, honest and agreeable man, but perhaps
the most reactionary of all the nationalists. The basis of his
creed is hatred of the Uniat religion. Now the Uniat Church has
not less than 3,750,000 adherents in Galicia out of a total population
of five million inhabitants.
Bobrinsky is in the habit of saying: "I recognize only
three religions in eastern Europe: the orthodox, the Catholic
and the Jewish. The Uniats are traitors to orthodoxy, renegades
and apostates. We must bring them back into the true path by force."
Persecution began at once. Arrest of the Uniat Metropolitan,
Monsignor Szeptycki; expulsion of Basilian monks; confiscation
of ecclesiastical property; destruction of Ruthene missals; replacement
of Uniat priests by Russian priests; carrying off Ruthene children
to Kiev or Kharkov to be brought up in the orthodox faith - such
is the account for these last two months on the religious side.
On the political we must add the suppression of all Ruthene papers,
the closing of the University and the schools, the dismissal of
all Galician officials and their replacement by a horde of Russian
bureaucrats.
I spoke officially to Sazonov about this situation which prejudices
the future of Russian influence in these Galician districts in
which the Hapsburgs have made themselves very popular.
"I'll admit," he said, " that Bobrinsky's policy
is often unfortunate and that our officials are heavy-handed.
But don't expect me to take up the cudgels for the Uniats! I respect
the Roman Catholics, though I regret they have fallen into error.
But I hate and despise the Uniats because they are renegades."
The other day the Grand Duke Nicholas was complaining of the
delay in the arrival of supplies for the army in Galicia: "I'm
expecting trainloads of ammunition. They send me trainloads of
priests!"
Wednesday, December 2, 1914.
The situation of the Russian armies in Poland is becoming difficult.
North of Lodz the Germans have received reinforcements from the
western front and are decidedly getting the upper hand.
General Rennenkampf has been relieved of his command as it
was his slowness which caused the failure of the fine enveloping
movement of November 25.
The Germans claim to have captured 80,000 unwounded Russians
in the last fortnight.
Also the moral of Russia is far from improving. The
pessimism I see about me is reported to be prevalent in Moscow.
Kiev and Odessa also.
As one would expect, Count Witte exploits it to rail against
the war. His line at the moment is to attribute to the "calculated
inertia of the French army" the scale and violence of the
offensive the Russians are now having to withstand in Poland.
With his haughty scorn and sardonic sneer he goes about saying:
"The French are quite right not to fight any more as the
Russians are stupid enough to let themselves be killed instead."
I have had great difficulty in procuring the insertion in the
press of several notes or articles setting out the great scale
of our material and moral effort. Not one of the papers has had
the honesty to reveal the fact that if the Russians have to deal
with twenty-one German corps (not counting the Austro-Hungarians)
the French and English are faced with no less than fifty-two.
Saturday, December 5, 1914.
Between Lodz and Lowicz stubborn fighting is still continuing;
the Russians are giving way.
The Grand Duke Nicholas has had me informed that he is as determined
as ever to pursue his advance on Silesia; but his Chief of Staff,
General Janushkevitch, sees a fatal obstacle in the transport
difficulty and the high wastage. In the course of the last five
weeks the Russians have lost 530,000 men - 280,000 of them against
the Germans.
Sunday, December 6, 1914.
The Russians have evacuated Lodz; the Germans entered it at
once.
It is no small loss to our Allies. Lodz has not less than 380,000
inhabitants, i.e., the populations of Lille and Roubaix combined.
It is the centre of the textile industry, the Manchester of Poland.
South east of Cracow the Austro-Hungarians are retreating.
Pope Benedict XV has asked the Russian Government if it will
consent to a suspension of hostilities during Christmas Day.
While thanking the Holy Father for this merciful thought the
Imperial Government has replied that it could not agree to an
armistice, first because the orthodox Christmas does not coincide
with the Catholic Christmas, and secondly because it could place
no faith in any undertaking given by Germany.
When Sazonov told me of this answer I was extremely sorry:
"The idea of a ' truce of God' was splendid; you ought
to have accepted it. There's nothing in your point about the two
calendars; you could have claimed a second armistice on your own
Christmas Day, thirteen days later. And as for Germany violating
the armistice, she'd have raised the conscience of the world against
her and alienated all that moral force for which the Papacy still
stands."
Sazonov replied in jerky, impatient tones:
"No, no! It was impossible... impossible!"
The discussion was evidently not to his liking. In his uncompromising
attitude I recognized the ancient enmity between the Eastern Church
and the Church of Rome. Besides, the Holy Synod must have intervened
with all its routine intolerance against the step taken by the
Pope. All the same I ventured further:
"The Holy See can go much further along the lines it is
asking us to make possible... . If it utters a word of pity
or reproof now and then the war may possibly become less inhuman.
Here's one example: isn't it a terrible thing that the wounded
who fall in the wire in front of the trenches cannot be assisted
and that their groans and cries for help are heard for days and
days? ... And what about the fate of prisoners? And the bombardment
of open towns? What a field of action for the mediation of the
Holy See! We simply must not discourage it in its first step!"
But I felt that I was speaking to no purpose.
Tuesday, December 8, 1914.
I am getting reports from many quarters that the Russian army
is running short of gun ammunition and rifles. I have been to
General Sukhomlinov, the War Minister, to ask him for definite
information on this matter.
He gave me a very friendly reception. Between his heavy eyelids
a winking smile made the little wrinkles on his brows contract.
His whole personality breathes physical exhaustion and deceit.
I questioned him very closely. He kept on answering
"Don't worry; I've prepared for everything," and
he produced to me the most comforting figures.
Then, taking me to a long table laden with maps he described
the operations in progress in Poland. With a fat, quivering finger
he showed me all the fronts and pointed out all the objectives:
"You see," he said, "how the left wing of our
armies is making rapid progress towards Upper Silesia while leaving
only a small force to contain the Austro-Hungarians in the south.
The Grand Duke Nicholas's plan is to develop his offensive by
this left wing with the greatest possible intensity, even if the
German thrust in the direction of Warsaw compels the right wing
to dig in between the Vistula and the Warta. So all's going well;
I'm sure we shall hear some very good news before long."
As I took my leave he gave me a sly look I shall never forget.
Wednesday, December 9, 1914.
The uncertainty shrouding the military operations in Poland,
the only too justifiable presentiments of enormous losses suffered
by the Russian armies, and last but not least the evacuation of
Lodz have led to a profound melancholy among the public. Everyone
I meet is downhearted. The signs of depression are to be seen
not merely in drawing-rooms and clubs, but in public offices,
shops and in the streets as well.
This afternoon I went into an antiquary's shop on the Liteïny.
After a few minutes' bargaining over something or other he asked
me with a look of horror in his face:
"When will this dreadful war end? Is it true that we have
lost a million men round Lodz?"
"A million! Who told you that? Your losses are serious,
but I can assure you they are nowhere near that figure... .
Have you sons or relatives in the army? "
"No, thank God! ... But this war is too long, too terrible.
Besides, we shall never beat the Germans. Then why not have done
with it at once? "
I revived his faith to the best of my ability and showed him
that we should certainly win if we held on. He listened to me
with a sceptical, frightened look. When I stopped he continued:
"You French may be victorious, perhaps - but not we Russians!
The game's lost. Then why in God's name let all these men be massacred?
Why not have done with it at once?"
How many more Russians must be arguing like that at the present
moment? What a strange mentality this nation has, a nation capable
of such sublime sacrifices and yet so prone to despondency, self-desertion
and anticipatory resignation to the worst misfortunes!
When I returned to the Embassy I found old Baron von H - -
who was a force in the political world some ten years ago, but
since then has confined himself to the pleasures and trivialities
of the social world. He spoke about military events.
"Things are going very badly... . No good deluding ourselves
I ... The Grand Duke Nicholas is incompetent! ... The battle
of Lodz: madness, disaster! ... Our losses more than a million!
We shall never get the better of the Germans again... . We must
begin to think of peace."
I pointed out that the three Allied countries are bound to
continue the war until the defeat of Germany as nothing less than
their independence and national integrity is at stake. I added
that a humiliating peace would inevitaby provoke a revolution
in Russia, and what a revolution! I said that I also had unlimited
confidence in the loyalty of the Emperor to our common cause.
H - - continued, in a low voice, as if we might be overheard:
"Oh! The Emperor ... the Emperor... "
He stopped. I pressed him.
"What do you mean? Go on."
He resumed, looking very uncomfortable, as he was treading
on dangerous ground:
"At the moment the Emperor is very angry with Germany;
but he'll soon realize that he's leading Russia to destruction.
... He'll be made to realize it... . I can hear that
low hound, Rasputin, telling him: ' Well, how much longer are
you going to spill the blood of your people? Don't you see that
God is abandoning you? On that day peace will be at hand, Monsieur
l'Ambassadeur."
At this point I broke off our conversation in a sharp tone:
"It's all silly talk... . The Emperor has sworn on the
Holy Gospels and the ikon of Our Lady of Kazan that he will never
sign peace so long as there is a single enemy soldier on Russian
soil. You'll never make me believe that he won't keep such an
oath. Don't forget that the day he swore it he insisted on my
being with him as witness and guarantor of his undertaking before
God. On that point he will always be immovable. He would face
death rather than break his word."
Thursday, December 10, 1914.
The Serbians have inflicted a defeat on the Austro-Hungarians
near Valievo. The enemy left 20,000 prisoners and fifty guns in
the hands of the victors.
The French Government returned to Paris yesterday.
Saturday, December 12, 1914.
General de Laguiche writes to me from General Headquarters:
Events are taking a favourable turn in the Cracow district.
In the north the status quo is maintained on the Ilno-Lowicz-Petrokov
line, and I think that the positions contemplated have been reached
there. Evidently operations will be less active there than on
the Silesian side.
Monday, December 4, 1914.
Has the Russian offensive towards Silesia already been checked?
Yesterday they suffered a severe reverse south of the Vistula,
near Limanova, which has freed Cracow and seems bound to react
on the whole South Poland front. Nothing is being said about this
defeat.
At the present time the Emperor is on a visit to the Caucasus
front where operations are developing successfully.
Tuesday, December 15, 1914.
In Western Galicia the Russians are falling back towards the
Vistula along the whole line. This retreat means the end of the
offensive against Silesia.
Prince von Bülow has been appointed Ambassador in Rome.
The great game between Germany and Italy is about to begin.
Wednesday, December 16, 1914.
The series of successes which the Germans have obtained in
Masuria and Poland during the last four months have all been produced
by "railway strategy," that is the swift and secret
transfer of a mass of manoeuvre to another part of the front for
an unexpected blow. The great network of lines which run parallel
to, and behind, the frontiers of Prussia, Posen and Silesia, enable
these great lateral movements to be carried out in a few days,
whereas the Russian General Staff needs several weeks for the
slightest change in the redistribution of its troops on the line
of battle.
Thursday, December 17, 1914.
The Grand Duke Nicholas has informed me with great regret that
he has been obliged to discontinue his operations: the reason
he gives for this decision is the excessive losses his troops
have recently sustained and the fact - more serious still - that
the artillery has used up all its ammunition.
I have complained to Sazonov of the situation thus brought
to my notice and my tone was pretty sharp:
"General Sukhomlinov has assured me a dozen times,"
I said, "that all precautions had been taken to secure that
the Russian artillery should always have an abundant supply of
ammunition... . I have emphasized to him the enormous consumption
which has become the normal scale of battles. He has vowed that
he was in a position to satisfy all requirements and meet all
eventualities. He even gave me written proof. Please mention the
matter on my behalf to the Emperor."
"I won't fail to tell His Majesty what you've just told
Me.
We left it at that. Sazonov's opinion of Sukhomlinov's character
is a sufficient guarantee that he will make the most of my complaint.
Friday, December 18, 1914.
I learned yesterday that the Russian artillery is short of
ammunition; I learn this morning that the infantry is short of
rifles!
I went at once to General Bielaiev, Army Chief of Staff at
the Ministry for War, and asked him for an explanation.
A hard worker and the soul of conscience and honour, he made
a clean breast of everything:
"Our losses in men have been colossal, though if it were
merely a matter of replacing wastage we could soon do so as we
have more than 800,000 men in our depots. But we're short of rifles
to arm and train these men. Our original reserve was 5,600,000
rifles; at least we thought so. The Grand Duke Nicholas thought
so; I thought so myself. We have been criminally deceived: our
magazines are nearly empty. Forgive me for giving no further explanation
of a very painful matter. To make good the deficit we are about
to purchase a million rifles in Japan and America and we hope
to arrive at an output of one hundred thousand a month in our
own factories. Perhaps France and England could also let us have
a few hundred thousand. The position is hardly less difficult
as regards gun ammunition. The consumption has surpassed all our
calculations and anticipations. At the beginning of the war we
had 5,200,000 rounds of 76 mm. shrapnel in our arsenal. Our entire
reserve is exhausted. The armies need 45,000 rounds per day. Our
maximum daily output is 13,000: we hope it will reach 20,000 about
February 15. Until that date the situation of our armies will
not only be difficult but dangerous. In March the deliveries on
orders we have placed abroad will begin to arrive; I presume we
shall thus have 27,000 rounds a day about April 15 and 40,000
after May 15... . That is all I can tell you, Monsieur
l'Ambassadeur. I have kept nothing from you."
I thanked him for his candour, made some notes and withdrew.
Outside, under a dull grey, leaden sky an icy wind viciously
lashed the banks of the Neva, whirling the snowflakes before it.
The wintry desolation of the great river, frozen as far as the
eye could reach between its granite quays, had never before seemed
so utterly inhuman; the landscape seemed the visual embodiment
of all the tragedy, the element of implacable and remorseless
destiny in the history of the Russian nation.
Saturday, December 19, 1914.
To-day is the Emperor's name day. A thanksgiving service has
been held at Our Lady of Kazan. All the court dignitaries, ministers,
high officials and the diplomatic corps have attended in full
dress. The public thronged the far end of the nave between the
two noble rows of columns in pairs.
In the dazzling blaze of the candelabra and candles, the glittering
of the ikons - one mass of gold and precious stones - the national
sanctuary is a superb edifice. Throughout the service the anthems
followed each other with a wealth of melody, perfection of execution,
breadth and solemnity which attained the highest pitch of religious
emotion.
Towards the end of the ceremony I singled out Goremykin, the
President of the Council, and drawing him behind a pillar I taxed
him with the inadequate military support given by Russia to our
common cause. Buchanan and Sazonov were listening and joined in
the conversation. In his slow, sceptical way Goremykin tried to
defend Sukhomlinov:
"But there's the same shortage of munitions in France
and England as well! Yet your industries are far better equipped
than ours and your machine-tool industry is on a far higher level!
And how could anyone anticipate such a prodigal expenditure of
ammunition?"
"I don't blame General Sukhomlinov," I protested,
"for not having foreseen before the war that every battle
would mean a perfect orgy of ammunition; nor do I blame him for
the delays inevitably involved in the backward state of your industries.
But I do blame him for having done nothing to avert the present
crisis in the three months since I told him, from General Joffre,
that it was coming... . And the shortage of rifles! Isn't that
even more criminal? "
Goremykin made a formal protest in evasive language and weary
gestures. Buchanan supported me vigorously. Sazonov acquiesced
by his silence.
What a strange phenomenon was this discussion between allies
in the church to which Field-Marshal Prince Kutusov came to pray
before starting for the war of 1812 - within two paces of his
tomb and under the trophies abandoned by the French during the
retreat from Russia!
Sunday, December 20, 1914.
I hear from many quarters that in intellectual and liberal
circles there is a good deal of criticism of France, criticism
as malevolent as unjust and acrimonious.
Waves of francophobia have swept over Russia four or five times
since the last years of the great Catherine. French ideas, fashions
and manners have periodically irritated the Russians. The last
wave, to which the present symptoms are related, only affected
the Intelligentsia who have never forgiven us for giving
financial assistance to Tsarism and thus strengthening the autocratic
regime.
In 1906 Maxim Gorky had the insolence to write:
This is what you have done, Oh France, you, the mother of
Liberty! Your venal hand has closed the highway to independence
for a whole nation. But no! The day of our emancipation will
not be postponed though it will cost us far more blood, through
your fault. May that blood stain your flaccid, lying cheeks!
As for me I spit in your face, my loved one of yore!
At the present time a silly charge is added to the grievance
of the loans. It is France which has dragged Russia into the war
in order to recover Alsace-Lorraine for herself at the price of
Russian lives.
I am doing what I can to counteract these tendencies, but my
activities are necessarily limited and secret. If I have too much
to do with liberal circles I shall become an object of suspicion
to the Government party and the Emperor. I shall also put a formidable
weapon in the hands of the reactionaries of the Extreme Right
and the gang around the Empress who are preaching that the alliance
with republican France is a mortal peril to orthodox Tsarism and
that the only path to safety lies in a reconciliation with German
Kaiserism.
Monday, December 21, 1914.
During my call on Madame Goremykin, a kind old lady who looks
very attractive under her crown of white hair, her husband came
in to join us at tea. I remarked in a tone of friendly reproach:
"In Our Lady of Kazan yesterday you struck me as taking
the military situation remarkably calmly."
He answered in his feeble, deceitful voice:
"What do you expect? I'm so old! I ought to have been
in my coffin long ago! I told the Emperor so only the other day;
but His Majesty wouldn't listen to me... And perhaps, after
all, it's as well as it is. At my age men don't try and change
the order of things more than is necessary... ."
Thinking over this sceptical remark this evening I wondered
whether it were not less ill-timed than I thought at first and
whether, if confined to the Russian Empire, it did not contain
a substantial element of wisdom. The words of Joseph de Maistre
came to my mind: Woe to bad governments! Triple woe
to bad governments which desire to mend their ways!
Tuesday, December 22, 1914.
The public have now known for two days that the Russian operations
have been stayed and in the absence of official news the situation
is supposed to be worse than it really is. For this reason General
Headquarters decided to-day to issue the following communication:
The taking up of a shorter front by our armies is the result
of the unfettered decision of the military authority. The movement
is a natural one and the consequence of the concentration of
very large German forces against us. This decision will also
bring us further advantages. Unfortunately it is impossible to
furnish public opinion with explanations of a military nature.
This communiqué, with its clumsy wording, has produced
an unfortunate effect. Everyone is thinking "Things must
be going badly if that's all they can tell us! "
Wednesday, December 23, 1914.
Madame P - - (Sister in charge of a front line hospital),
who has just returned from Poland tells me that the courage and
élan of the Russian troops are altogether splendid. Yet
no trial is spared them: furious and uninterrupted fighting, frightful
losses from artillery fire, wearying marches in the snow, the
ghastly sufferings of the wounded owing to the transport difficulty
and the terrible cold, &c.
She also gave me several curious examples of the gentleness
displayed by the Russian soldier to Austrian and German prisoners.
It is a feature of the national temperament: the Russian has
no bellicose instincts and a very warm heart. Contrasted with
the German national epics the Russian bylinas are very
eloquent from this point of view. They never glorify war and their
heroes, their bogatyrs, are always in the role of the defender.
The Russian peasant is also naturally charitable. A moujik
must be absolutely penniless to refuse alms to anyone asking
him "in the name of Christ"! And he is immediately stirred
to the depths at the sight of poverty, disease or a prisoner.
It is this evangelical instinct which makes the Russian soldier
so ready for reconciliation and fraternization with his foe. During
the 1812 retreat the French had a horrible taste of the savagery
of the Cossacks and the cupidity of the Jews; but they almost
invariably received sympathy and help from the regular soldiery
and the peasants. There is plenty of evidence on this point. During
the Crimean War also invitations to fraternize came from the Russian
trenches whenever there was the slightest suspension of hostilities.
Thursday, December 24, 1914.
General de Laguiche, writing from Baranovici, has confirmed
General Bielaiev's revelations. The reason for the suspension
of the Russian operations is not the size of the German forces,
but the total lack of gun ammunition and rifles. The Grand Duke
Nicholas is reduced to despair but is doing everything he can
to remedy this grave situation.
Several thousand rifles have already been made available as
the result of stringent orders. The output of the national factories
is to be raised. Meanwhile military operations are to be continued
so far as practicable. The invasion of Germany is still the objective.
Saturday, December 26, 1914
On his return from the Caucasus the Emperor has stayed in Moscow.
He had a most enthusiastic reputation and had a chance of seeing
for himself the fine spirit with which all grades of Moscow society
are inspired.
All the Moscow papers have fastened on the occasion to affirm
that the war must be fought out until the defeat of Teutonism;
several have remarked, very happily, that to attain that end a
"flash of enthusiasm" is not enough; what is needed
is stubbornness of will, inexhaustible patience and a determination
to face and accept immense sacrifices.
The Emperor has several times said to those around him:
"I feel I'm really at the heart of my people here! The
atmosphere is as wholesome and bracing as at the front."
Sunday, December 27, 1914.
Everyone who spoke to the Emperor at Moscow talked of Constantinople,
and all in the same strain:
"The acquisition of the Straits is of vital interest to
the Empire, far more important than all the territorial advantages
Russia may obtain at the expense of Germany or Austria... .
The neutralization of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles would
be an imperfect, hybrid compromise, fraught with peril for the
future... . Constantinople must be a Russian city... . The
Black Sea must become a Russian lake ... ...
A French manufacturer who has come from Kharkov and Odessa
tells me that the same thing is being said there. But whereas
the historical, political, and mystical aspects inspire Moscow,
it is the commercial argument which appeals to southern Russia.
The corn of the tchernoziom and the Donetz coal basin are
responsible for the cry for the Mediterranean.
Monday, December 28, 1914.
It is becoming ever clearer that there are two currents in
Russian public opinion - one flowing on towards bright horizons
and beckoning conquests, Constantinople, Thrace, Armenia, Trebizond,
Persia ... the other beating against the invincible obstacle
of the Teutonic cliff and ebbing back to gloomy prospects ending
in pessimism, a feeling of impotence and resignation.
The really curious point is that these two currents run side
by side, or at any rate frequently alternate, in the same individual,
as if they both satisfied the two outstanding propensities of
the Russian soul - dreams and disillusionment.
Tuesday, December 29, 1914.
What a curious person Madame Anna Alexandrovna Vyrubova is!
She is not titled, holds no office, receives no salary and appears
at no ceremonies. This perpetual self-effacement and utter disinterestedness
are her whole capital with the sovereigns, so accustomed to the
importunity of place-hunters and self-seekers. She is the daughter
of Taneïev, Director of the Emperor's Privy Seal Office,
and has practically no money. It is all that the Empress can do
to get her occasionally to accept some cheap jewel, or a dress
or cloak.
Physically she is coarse and heavily-built, with a round head,
fleshy lips, limpid eyes devoid of expression, a full figure and
a high colour. She is thirty-two years of age. She dresses with
a thoroughly provincial plainness and is very devout, but unintelligent.
I have met her twice at the house of her mother, Madame Taneïev
(née Tolstoy), who, by contrast, is well-informed and distinguished.
We had a long talk together. Anna Alexandrovna struck me as unattractive
and very dull-witted. As a girl she was maid-of-honour to the
Empress who arranged her marriage with a naval officer, Lieutenant
Vyrubova. After a few days of married life came divorce.
At the present time Madame Vyrubova lives at Tsarskoe Selo
in a very modest villa at the corner of the Sredniaya and the
Zerkovnaya, 200 metres from the Imperial Palace. In spite of all
the decrees of etiquette the Empress frequently pays prolonged
calls on her friend; she has even reserved a room for her in the
palace itself. The result is that the two women are nearly always
together. In any case Madame Vyrubova regularly spends the evening
with the sovereigns and their children. No one else ever enters
the family circle. They play draughts and patience, do puzzles;
occasionally a little music. Highly proper novels, English novels
for preference, are read aloud. When the children have gone to
bed Madame Vyrubova stays with the sovereigns until midnight and
thus takes part in all their conversation, always on Alexandra-Feodorovna's
side. As the Emperor never ventures to decide anything without
his wife's opinion, or rather approval, the net result is that
it is the Empress and Madame Vyrubova who really govern Russia!
Princess R - - said to me when I was discussing the imperial
court with her recently:
"Isn't it grievous to think that the masters of Russia
live in such an atmosphere? It's as if they lived in rooms which
are never aired. Just think, no on I mean it, no one ever sees
them alone or lunches with them or goes for a walk with them,
or dines with them or spends an evening with them ... not a
soul except Anna Vyrubova! When I remember what my parents told
me of the courts of Alexander II and Alexander III it makes me
want to cry. No doubt they had their intrigues, feuds, favouritism
and even scandals, as all courts have. But at any rate there was
some life about them. The monarchs were approachable; you could
talk quite freely with them so that they learned a good deal.
In turn you got to know - and like them. But now ... what a
contrast, what a lapse! ... "
How can one place Madame Vyrubova,? What is the hidden motive
for her behaviour? What is her object? What are her hopes? The
favourite description of her is that she is an intriguer. But
it's a curious sort of intriguer who despises honours and refuses
reward! Before I met her I thought her character must have some
resemblance to that of the Princesse des Ursins. I was very wide
of the mark and owe a humble apology to the memory of the famous
camerera mayor! She directed the married life of Philip
V and Marie Louise, of course. But Saint-Simon has written of
her "that she had an air of noble dignity which attracted
rather than repelled," and even if she may be charged with
great ambitions they were at any rate "vast ambitions, far
higher than those of her sex." Lastly, she combined a genius
for political intrigue with the highest and most brilliant qualities
of mind, not to mention a charm of manner which survived to her
old age. Compared to that splendid specimen of womanhood the Vyrubova
cuts a very poor figure. To account for her position and importance
in the imperial palace perhaps it is enough to refer to her personal
devotion to the Empress, the devotion of a servile and inferior
being to a royal lady who is always ailing, weighed down by her
own power, a lady who is a prey to all sorts of terrors and feels
that some horrible fate is for ever hanging over her.
Wednesday, December 30, 1914.
Nicholas Maklakov, the Minister of the Interior, has told me
of something that happened to him when he was travelling recently,
an incident which brings out a curious side of Russian mentality:
"I was coming back in a troika from Jaroslavl,"
he said. "I was alone, and when barely a dozen versts from
my destination I was caught in a snowstorm. You couldn't see two
paces ahead; that didn't prevent my coachman from whipping up
his horses to try and reach the town before nightfall. Before
long he had lost his way: he hesitated, turned to the right, then
to the left. I was beginning to get uneasy. particularly as the
storm got very much worse. Suddenly the vehicle stopped. My man
crossed himself vigorously three times and muttered a prayer.
Then throwing his reins over the shafts he yelled at his horses:
'Gee up! Gee up! Come on, lads! Come on, little brothers!' The
three horses pricked up their ears, snorted, shook their heads
this way and that and then galloped off through the blinding
snowflakes. My driver turned round to me and said:
" See, barin, when you've lost your way the best
thing to do is to trust to your beasts and the grace of God!"
An hour later I was in Jaroslavl.
I replied to Maklakov:
"Your fable's very poetic; but I'll admit I should have
liked it better in peace time."
Thursday, December 31, 1914.
In an hour's time 1914 will be over.
The exile's melancholy lot!
Since this war first turned the world upside down events have
already so often upset the most rational calculations and mocked
at the most prudent anticipations that one cannot venture into
prophecy, except within the limits of near horizons and immediate
contingencies.
This afternoon, however, I have had a long and frank talk with
the Swiss Minister, Odier. The exchange of information, interchange
of ideas and difference in our points of view have widened my
horizon somewhat. Odier has a lucid and accurate mind, and he
combines a strong sense of reality with a wealth of experience.
We came to the conclusion that Germany made a serious mistake
in thinking she could finish the war straight off; that it will
be a very, very long struggle and that victory will ultimately
rest with the most tenacious of the combatants.
The war will thus become a war of attrition and the attrition,
alas, must be complete, involving the exhaustion of food supplies,
industrial machinery and products, man power and moral forces!
And it is plain that it is the moral forces which will bring about
the decision in the last desperate hour.
Looked at from this point of view the problem cannot be regarded
as other than an anxious one for Russia. Russia is so prone to
lose heart, to fluctuate in her desires and grow weary of her
dreams. Notwithstanding its splendid gifts of heart and mind no
nation records so many bankruptcies and miscarriages in its moral
life as the Russian. One of the types which crops up most frequently
in Russian literature is the desperate man, the man resigned to
anything and everything, the "failure." I was recently
reading a moving passage in a book of Tchekov's, the novelist
who, next to Tolstoy and Dostoievsky, has given the best analysis
of the Russian soul:
Why do we tire so soon? How is it that after squandering so
much fervour, passion, and faith we almost always go to ruin
before the age of thirty . And when we fall how is it that we
never try to rise again?
