Rasputin and the Russian Revolution by Princess Catherine Radziwill - HTML preview

CONCLUSION

MORE than one year has gone by since the events narrated in this book, and it is possible now to throw a retrospective glance on them, as well as on all the tragedies that have followed the fall of the Romanoffs. It has been proved beyond doubt that it is not sufficient to destroy a political system and to overturn a monarchy. These must be replaced by something else, and it is this something else which Russia has been vainly looking for during the last twelve months. After the abdication of Nicholas II., successors had to be found to take up the power which had been snatched out of his hands owing to the clamours of public indignation at his weakness of character and want of comprehension of the needs of his people. These successors, who were taken here and there in the hazards of an adventure brought about by the intrigues of a few and by the cowardice of many, who were they? What did they represent? And what elements of strength did they possess? They were called upon to take the direction of the destinies of their Fatherland in an hour of national crisis, such as it had never known before in the whole course of its history, and to try to save a situation which had become already so entangled that it had almost reached the limits of desperation. It is possible to-day to pass judgment on the first government that assumed authority after the fall of the unfortunate Czar. And, much as one would like to think well of it, it must be admitted that though it was composed of men of great talent and integrity, it did not possess one single character determined enough and strong enough to deliver it from the demagogues who had secured an entry into it, and from the anarchist elements that had tried from the very outset to impose themselves upon it and their doctrines. Moreover these men were devoid of experience, and they believed sincerely (there can be no doubt as to this point) but absolutely erroneously, that it was sufficient for them and their party to come to the foreground in order to bring about in Russia an era of bliss such as exists only in fairy tales. Among them was found Alexander Kerensky, a Socialist, one of the leaders of the Labour Party, an indifferent lawyer but a most eloquent speaker, who, better than any one else in Russia, understood the art of stirring the souls and appealing to the passions of the crowds upon which he relied to keep him in power; and who by his wonderful speeches could easily lead these crowds upon any road he wished to have them follow, though it might not land them where they imagined they were going. Kerensky imposed himself upon the Revolution in the same way he imposed himself upon a jury, and he treated it as he would have treated a jury during a criminal trial. Of politics he had but a hazy idea; of the art of government he understood nothing. He believed in the value of words, and imagined that he could establish in Russia an ideal State, living upon ideal principles. But at one time he was popular, and people thought him a strong man, whilst he was only an eloquent demagogue. With this he had an overbearing character, would not admit contradiction, and soon was at variance with his colleagues in the ministry, who, unfortunately for Russia, were as weak as he was himself but with less tyrannical dispositions; they retired when they found that they could not prevent him from carrying out his plans of reforming the army and of abolishing its military discipline, without which no troops in the world could be expected to stand bravely in presence of an attacking foe. It is a thousand pities that men like Paul Milyukoff, Prince George Lvoff, Rodzianko and others, to whose initiative was due the success of the Revolution, allowed themselves to be overruled by Kerensky, until he was left alone to bear upon his shoulders the whole burden of the government and the whole responsibility of the war, when he collapsed like a weak reed at the first real attack directed against him.

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KERENSKY INSPIRING TROOPS TO SUPPORT REVOLUTIONARY GOVERNMENT

Another misfortune connected with the government that replaced that of Nicholas II. was that it failed to recognise the terrible German propaganda that was carried on with renewed energy in Russia after the Revolution. It would not believe in its danger, and it could not bring itself to employ violence to put an end to the Socialist or, rather, anarchist agitation fomented by German intrigues and kept up by German money, which alone has rendered possible the triumph of Bolschevikism and the seizure of supreme power by people such as Lenine, Trotzky, Kameneff, and other personalities of the same kind, and the same doubtful or, rather, not doubtful reputation.

And yet it would have been relatively easy to put an end to the career of these men, had one only applied oneself to do so in time and bravely faced the criticisms of the people who were in their pay, or in their employ. The whole story of the Lenine-Trotzky intrigue has not yet been told, at least not here in America; and it may not be without interest to disclose some of its details. When Milyukoff and Prince Lvoff proceeded to form a government after the overthrow of the Monarchy, they offered the portfolio of Justice to a Moscow lawyer called Karensky (nothing to do with Alexander Kerensky) who enjoyed the reputation of being one of the most eloquent, and, at the same time, honest members of the Moscow Bar. They called him to Petrograd, where they held several consultations with him. Karensky declared himself ready to accept the position offered him, but only on one condition: that he would be given an absolutely free hand to proceed with the greatest energy and vigour against all the German spies and agents with which the Capital was infested, and that he would also be allowed the same free hand in his dealings with the anarchists who were beginning to make themselves heard. Neither Prince Lvoff nor Milyukoff would agree to give him these powers he demanded. They feared that if they did so they would be reproached for doing exactly the same as the government that had crumbled down a few days before; and they also objected to allowing a member of the cabinet to dispose at his will and fancy of such grave questions as those involved in repression exercised against any political party, no matter of what shade or opinion. Karensky thereupon refused the position offered to him, but accepted the post of State Prosecutor under Alexander Kerensky at first, and, afterwards, when the latter had been transferred to the war office, under Mr. Pereviazeff. This allowed him to watch the growing German agitation, connected with anarchist conspiracies, which was beginning to feel its way previous to its explosion. He had heard about Lenine and Trotzky, and was from the first convinced that they were both in the employ of the Kaiser either directly or indirectly, and he set himself to obtain proof that such was the case. He had wondered at the easiness with which Lenine had been able to obtain a passport from the German government authorising him to cross the dominions of William II. on his way from Switzerland to Russia. He, therefore, had the correspondence of both Lenine and Trotzky watched, and very soon his attention was attracted by the fact that they were both sending and receiving constantly telegrams to and from Sweden and Finland, all of which were deeply concerned with the health of a certain “Kola” who seemed to be always getting ill, and then better, in a sort of regular way which appeared more than strange. This was the first remark which led to the result that at last, it was established, to the absolute satisfaction of Karensky and of others, that Trotzky, Lenine, Kameneff, a certain Zinovieff, a lawyer called Kozlovsky, a lady going by the name of Madame Soumentay, and the wife of Lenine, had received not less than nineteen millions of rubles from the German government. This money had been sent through so many different channels that it was next to impossible to discover its origin. It had passed through eight banks, and, I do not now remember, through how many private hands. But the people whose names I have just mentioned had received it, partly in Russian banknotes, and partly in banknotes printed in Berlin, which were supposed to be Russian, of a new type with which the German government was beginning to meet its obligations so as not to make them too heavy for its own Exchequer.

Karensky sought Prince Lvoff, who was still Prime Minister at the time, and asked him to sign an order for the arrest of Trotzky and Lenine. The Prince had not the courage to do so, and the State Prosecutor had, perforce, to wait. But in July the first insurrectionary movement, engineered by the Bolscheviki, broke out, and then Karensky thought that his duty obliged him to assume the responsibilities which the ministry did not care to face. By that time Prince Lvoff, Milyukoff and others had resigned, and Kerensky was virtually master of the situation. But he was weak, weaker perhaps than any of his colleagues had been, and he openly declared to the State Prosecutor that he felt afraid to arrest the two men who were ultimately to lead Russia to her destruction. Karensky, however, was made of sterner stuff, and he bravely decided to act for himself, and signed alone the order for the incarceration of both Lenine and Trotzky. But the former had been warned, and had fled to Finland. A thorough search was made of the flat which he occupied, where the sum of one million and a half of rubles was found in possession of his wife, who could not explain whence she had this money. Trotzky at the same time was incarcerated and brought before the State Prosecutor. The latter, in order to justify the course of action he had taken, had caused to be published in all the Petrograd and Moscow newspapers an account of the discoveries which he had made, together with the names of the people who had participated in the work of treason he was determined to suppress. A curious thing in the story is that none of the papers that printed it (and they all did with the exception of the Bolschevik organ Prawda), was allowed to get abroad, which accounts for the fact of no publicity having been given to the story. Petrograd then was exasperated against Trotzky to such an extent that Karensky feared he would be lynched, and caused him to be conveyed to the prison called “Kresty” in an automobile driven by his own son, as no chauffeur would undertake to drive him there. What happened later on remains to this day a mystery. The Minister of Justice, Mr. Pereviazeff, resigned his functions two days after the arrest of Trotzky, and his place was taken by Nekrassoff, who, when asked by the Committees of soldiers and peasants who had begun by that time to be all powerful, to give the reasons which had induced the government to resort to this measure, became so embarrassed in his replies that these Committees insisted on Trotzky being set at liberty, which was done three days afterwards. Karensky then resigned his functions, and returned to Moscow whence, however, he was obliged to fly and seek a refuge in Kharkov, as soon as the Bolscheviki seized the government. The latter inaugurated a system of terrorism that claimed more victims than is known abroad, completed the disorganisation of the army, and at last started the negotiations which culminated in the shameful peace signed at Brest Litovsk. After three and a half years’ war and a Revolution, Russia as an independent nation ceased to exist, and became virtually, and to all appearance, a German province.

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PEACE DOCUMENT OF DELEGATES AT BREST-LITOVSK CONFERENCE

This is the story as it reads, and sad enough it sounds. Germany can look triumphantly on the success of her work and glory in it. Happily for Russia, for the world and for the cause of civilisation, it is only one chapter of it that has come to an end. Russia, the great Russia of the past, is not dead. She possesses far more vitality than she is given credit for, and she still has sound, true, and honest elements amidst her citizens. When attempting to judge her, one ought to think of the great French Revolution, and to remember that in France, also, it took years before its work was at last consolidated and set upon a sound basis. One must bear in mind that in France, too, a period of terrorism made people despair of the future and fear that the end of their Fatherland had come. Our Russian Revolution is hardly one year old, and though perhaps one will be aghast at what I am going to say, I think that she has not yet passed through that phase of real terror which is always a symptom of great upheavals such as Russia has undergone and is undergoing. We may see worse things yet; we may live to look upon the erection of a scaffold on one of the squares of Petrograd or of Moscow. But this will not mean that the end of Russia has come, nor that she has become, or will remain, a German province. The hatred of the Teuton, on the contrary, will grow as events progress and the great disillusion arrives. A few more months, and the peasants whom Trotzky, Lenine and their crew have lured with false promises will perceive that these demagogues have been unable to fulfil all that they had sworn to them they would do. They will realise that their lot has become under the rule of these new masters ten thousand times harder than was the case before, and they will be the first to rise against these deceivers. If we are to believe all that we hear from people who have arrived here from Russia recently, this movement of reaction has already started, and it is bound to grow stronger with every day and hour which goes by. The peace signed at Brest Litovsk will remain verily a “scrap of paper” which will end by being thrown into the waste-paper basket. Not one Russian will recognise it, not one Russian will accept it; the Germans feel it themselves, and are preparing for a new struggle which may have a far different conclusion from the one which they are now trying to persuade the world has come to an end.

What has helped them, apart from the treason of Trotzky, Lenine and their followers, who have only had one idea in heart and brain, that of enriching themselves at the expense of the country for which they feel neither affection nor pity, has been the state of confusion into which Russia was thrown by the Revolution that broke up so unexpectedly—a confusion which can only be compared to that which prevails in the house of a man whom sudden ruin has overtaken, when every servant or menial in the place tries to steal and take something in the general disaster or to profit out of it in some way or other. In Petrograd, in Moscow, as well as all over the country, looting took place, not only of private property, but also of the Public Exchequer, especially of the latter, and the Russian officials, who had always been grasping, became all at once bandits after the style of Rinaldo Rinaldino, or any other brigand illustrated by drama or comedy. They stole; they took; they carried away; they seized everything they could lay their hands upon. To begin with the silver spoons of the unfortunate Czar and as many of the Crown Jewels as they could get hold of, down to the paper money issued by the State Treasury, of which, as the Kerensky government had to own before the so-called National Assembly at Moscow, eight hundred millions were put into circulation every month after the Revolution, in contrast with two hundred millions which were issued formerly. I do not think that it is a libel on these officials to suppose that part of this fabulous sum found its way into their pockets, instead of being applied to the needs of the nation or of the army.

This wholesale plundering, if I may be forgiven for using such a word, was of course not the fault of Kerensky and of his colleagues, under whose ministry it began, but whereas the latter realised immediately that it was taking place and resigned rather than countenance it; the former, though aware of it, found his hands tied in every attempt he made to subdue it, by the fact that those who were principally guilty were either his personal friends or his former partisans, or people with whom he had associated in earlier times, and with whom he had compromised himself to a considerable extent. With regard to those associates of his former life, Kerensky found himself in the same position as Napoleon III. after his accession, in presence of the Italian Carbonari, who claimed from the Sovereign the fulfilment of the promises made to them by the exiled Pretender. Kerensky had also given certain pledges at a time when he never expected he might be called upon to redeem them; and when he became a Minister he had to give way to the exigencies of all the radicals, anarchists, and extreme socialists among whom he had laboured, and with whom he had worked at the overthrow of the detested and detestable government of the Czar. He could not cast them overboard or set them aside. He had to listen to them, and in a certain sense to submit to their demands. For example, in the case of the exile to Siberia of the unfortunate Nicholas II., a measure which in the first days of the Revolution he had declared that he would never resort to, but which he nevertheless executed under conditions of the most intense cruelty, simply because it was demanded from him by persons to whom he could not say no. People who knew him well say that the fact of his powerlessness caused him intense suffering, but he had neither the strength to assert himself in presence of his former comrades, nor, perhaps, the will to do so.

In a certain sense, he was the man of the hour, “le maitre de l’heure,” as the Franco-Arab proverb says. He was even to some extent the one indispensable element without which it would have been impossible for a Republic ever to become established in Russia. And everybody seemed to agree, one year ago, that a Republic was the only form of government possible after the fall of the Romanoffs. Of this Republic Kerensky rapidly became the symbol and at the same time the emblem of a new Russia; a regenerated and better one, in the opinion of his followers of the moment; a worse one from what it had been formerly, in that of his adversaries, but at all events of a different Russia from the one previously known.

But, unfortunately, Kerensky was neither a statesman like Milyukoff nor an administrator like Prince Lvoff, nor even a business man like Konovaloff. He lacked experience and knowledge of the routine of government. He had but a limited amount of education, no idea of the feelings of people born and reared in a different atmosphere from that in which he had grown up. He was only a leader of men, or rather of the passions of men; and, unfortunately for him, what Russia required was more a ruler than a leader, of whom she had more than she wanted, though perhaps at that particular moment none so powerful as Kerensky. He had emerged a Dictator out of a complete and general chaos; and he was to add to it the whole weight of his unripe genius and of his exuberant personality. After having been the Peter the Hermit of a new Crusade, he was to become the false Prophet of a creed which he had preached with an eloquence such as has been seldom surpassed, but in which it is doubtful whether he himself believed. Had he consented, or had he been able to work in common with more experienced men than himself towards the triumph of the Republican cause, he would have taken in the annals of his country the place of one of its greatest men. As it has turned out, he will rank among its most interesting and brilliant historical figures, but only as a figure. His disappearance also has had something romantic about it, which will perhaps appeal to certain people in Russia, and which will disgust others. The world is wondering where he has gone and what has become of him; but everything points to the fact that he has either done away with himself, as he often said he would do in case of failure, or else that he has been murdered by the Bolscheviki during those days when the Neva and the different canals of Petrograd were carrying away to the sea hundreds of dead bodies every day. At least this is the opinion of persons who were in Russia at the time Kerensky vanished into space; and very probably this opinion will prove to be a true one.

The moderate liberal parties in Russia, who are the really intelligent, would, of course, wish their country’s future government to become a Republic modelled after that of the United States. At the same time, if we are to believe the rare news which reaches us from Petrograd, and especially from Moscow, one hears people say now what they would never have dared to mention a few months ago—i. e., that a constitutional Monarchy, if it could be established, would offer certain advantages. I hasten to say that, personally, I do not see where these advantages would come in, unless they were associated with a new dynasty. But at the same time, together with many others, when I look at all that has taken place recently in my poor country, I cannot but feel sad at the great uncertainty as to the morrow which the Revolution of last year has opened, not only before Russia, but before the whole world, and I would like to see this incertitude come to an end in some way or other.

I have but little more to add. It is difficult even to try to guess what the future holds in store for the former realm of the Romanoffs. The only thing which one can say at present with any certainty is that Russia will never honour the signature of Trotzky in regard to the peace treaty concluded with Germany. Any hesitation Russia might have had as to this point in her moments of discouragement, that must have made themselves felt at times, disappeared after the message sent by the President of the United States to the Soviets in Moscow. This message dispelled any fear the Russians might have had as to whether their allies had abandoned her. At present the country knows that it does not stand alone, and that any resistance it has to offer to its foes will be appreciated and encouraged. This is much, indeed this is the one thing which was capable of rousing the energies of the whole of that vast land which the Teutons imagine that they have conquered. I can but repeat: Russia is not dead yet. Russia shall show the world that, betrayed as she has been, she can still lift the yoke put upon her, save herself, and help to save the world for the great cause of Democracy.

And the conclusion of this book? I do not pretend to offer any. I simply invite my readers to draw the one they like best. I ask them only to do so with kindness and an appreciation of the difficulties of the situation. I have not tried to write a volume of controversy; I have merely attempted to describe, as well as I could, the Revolution and the events which preceded it, among which the extraordinary story of Rasputin figures so curiously.

I have given the narrative as it was related to me by people whose veracity I have no reason to challenge. It is certain, however, that many of its details are still unknown, and it is doubtful whether they will be revealed before the end of the war. At present there are too many persons interested in dissimulating the part which they have played in the drama, either out of fear, or because they do not think the time opportune. It seems sometimes as if there exists a tacit understanding among the actors of the tragedy to hide the details of the conspiracy which came to an end by the signature of the Manifest of Pskov. This signature was wrenched, no one knows yet by just what means, out of the weakness of Nicholas II!—that unfortunate Monarch who has never realised the obligations and duties he owed to the nation that dethroned him. The last crowned Romanoff had never had, unfortunately for him, and still more unfortunately for his subjects, a sense of appreciation of the real value of facts or of events, which sometimes is even more useful than a great intelligence, to those whom destiny has entrusted with the difficult task of ruling over nations. He believed that his duty consisted in upholding the superannuated traditions of autocracy, and he did not perceive that these traditions had been maintained so long only because there had existed strong men to enforce them. Honest and kind of heart though he was, at least in many respects, he had contrived in spite of these qualities to rouse against him from the very first days of his accession to the Throne all the social classes of his country. He had irritated the aristocracy, wounded the feelings of the army and of the people, and excited against himself the passions of the proletariat and of the peasantry, by his weakness of character and his obstinacy in surrounding himself with the most hated and most despised elements in Russia. A few days before his fall he might still have made a successful effort to save himself and his dynasty, had he only followed the disinterested advice which was forwarded to him by his Allies and consented to the establishment of a responsible Ministry. He preferred to listen to his wife and to the people she kept around her. Instead of trying to conciliate his subjects, he threatened them, until the expected occurred, and he lost not only his crown but also his liberty; and has perhaps forfeited his life and that of his family.

But the future, the future, my readers will ask me, What will be the future, what shall it bring forth for Russia? The only reply possible to this eager question is to quote the words of Victor Hugo in his wonderful Ode to Napoleon: “The future belongs to no one, it is controlled by God alone.”

Copyright, 1918, International Film Service, Inc.
THE HOUSE AT BREST-LITOVSK WHERE PEACE NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN THE RUSSIAN BOLSHEVIKI AND THE AUSTRO-GERMANS WERE CONDUCTED