After further consideration it has been decided that it would be better for the Emperor to come to England during the war rather than to a country contiguous to Germany. Apprehension is felt lest, through the influence of the Empress, the residence of the Emperor in Denmark or Switzerland might become a focus of intrigue, and that in the hands of disaffected Russian Generals the Emperor might become the possible head of a counter-revolution. This would be to play into the hands of Germany, and a risk that must be avoided at all costs.199
This offer, formally conveyed to the Provisional Government on March 13, was reinforced by a personal message from King George V to Nicholas in which he assured him of his undying friendship and extended the invitation to settle in England.*
The government’s plans regarding the Imperial family failed to take into account the feelings of the socialist intellectuals, who feared that once abroad the ex-Tsar would become the center of counterrevolutionary plots. For this reason, they preferred to keep him at home and under their control. As noted, on March 3 the Ispolkom voted to arrest Nicholas and his family. The government promptly capitulated to this demand. On March 7 it announced that the Imperial family would be placed under detention at Tsarskoe, and dispatched to Mogilev four deputies to escort Nicholas home. On March 8, having learned of the negotiations with Britain, the Ispolkom voted again to arrest Nicholas and his family, confiscate their property, and deprive them of citizenship. To prevent Nicholas’s departure for England, it resolved to send its own people to Tsarskoe to ensure that the Imperial family was securely guarded.200
While these developments were taking place, Nicholas was in Mogilev taking leave of the army. On March 8, he wrote a farewell letter to the armed forces in which he urged them to fight until victory and “obey the Provisional Government.”201 Alekseev forwarded this document to Petrograd, but Guchkov, acting on instructions from the cabinet, which probably feared antagonizing the Ispolkom, ordered it withheld.202 Later that morning, Nicholas bade goodbye to the officers. He walked up to each and embraced him. Nearly everyone was in tears. When the strain became too great Nicholas bowed and withdrew. “My heart nearly burst,” he wrote in the diary.203 At 4:45 p.m. he boarded his train, without the two inseparable companions, Voeikov and Fredericks, whom he had to dismiss at the request of Alekseev. Before departure, Alekseev informed him he was under arrest.204
On that same day, March 8, General Lavr Kornilov, the new commandant of the Petrograd Military District (he had been appointed by Nicholas on Rodzianko’s urging shortly before abdication) visited Tsarskoe. He informed the Empress that she was in custody and posted guards in the palace and on its grounds. This measure was taken in response to the demands of the Ispolkom, but it also had the effect of ensuring the safety of the Imperial family, for the Tsarskoe Selo garrison had begun to act in an insolent and threatening manner. According to Benckendorff, Kornilov also advised Alexandra that as soon as practicable the family would be taken to Murmansk to board a British cruiser bound for England.205
Nicholas’s train arrived at Tsarskoe in the morning of March 9. Announced to the guards as “Colonel Romanov,” he was surprised to see guards and patrols posted everywhere and to learn that his and his family’s movements, even within the confines of the palace grounds, were severely restricted. He was not to leave his apartments unless accompanied by an armed soldier.
When it learned that Nicholas had left Mogilev, the socialist intelligentsia grew anxious that he meant to escape abroad: they remembered well the flight of Louis XVI to Varennes. On March 9 the Ispolkom met in a state of great agitation. Chkheidze issued a general alarm that the ex-Tsar, who actually had just arrived at Tsarskoe, was in flight and had to be stopped.206 The Soviet resolved to prohibit Nicholas from leaving Russia “even if this should threaten a break with the Provisional Government”: he was to be incarcerated in the Peter and Paul Fortress.207 An Ispolkom delegation, headed by Chkheidze, met with the government that day and received assurances that Nicholas would not be allowed to leave the country without the Ispolkom’s permission.208
To make certain that Nicholas was in fact at Tsarskoe, as it was now informed, the Ispolkom dispatched later that day (March 9) a detachment of three hundred infantry and one machine gun company to Tsarskoe under the command of S. D. Mstislavskii, an SR officer. On arrival, Mstislavskii demanded that the ex-Tsar be at once “presented to him.” He thought to himself: “Let him stand before me—me, a simple emissary of the revolutionary workers and soldiers, he, the Emperor of All the Russias, Great, Little, and White, the autocrat, like an inmate at an inspection in what used to be his prisons.”
Mstislavskii wore an old sheepskin coat, with the epaulettes of a military official, a fur cap on his head, a saber by his side and a Browning, the handle of which protruded from his pocket. Soon the ex-Tsar appeared in the corridor. He approached the group, apparently wishing to speak with them. But Mstislavskii stood without saluting, without removing his cap, and even without uttering a greeting. The Emperor stopped for a second, looked him straight in the eye, then turned around and went back.*
By virtue of the rules set by General Kornilov209 the Imperial family was cut off from the outside world: no one could enter Tsarskoe without permission, and all letters, telegrams, and phone calls were subject to oversight.
On March 21, Kerensky appeared unexpectedly at Tsarskoe. It was his first opportunity to meet face to face the object of some of his most virulent Duma speeches. His description of the encounter, and the impression which Nicholas made on him, is of considerable interest:
The whole family was standing huddled in confusion around a small table near a window in the adjoining room. A small man in uniform detached himself from the group and moved forward to meet me, hesitating and smiling weakly. It was the Emperor. On the threshold of the room in which I awaited him he stopped, as if uncertain what to do next. He did not know what my attitude would be. Was he to receive me as a host or should he wait until I spoke to him? Should he hold out his hand, or should he wait for my salutation? I sensed his embarrassment at once as well as the confusion of the whole family left alone with a terrible revolutionary. I quickly went up to Nicholas II, held out my hand with a smile, and said abruptly “Kerensky,” as I usually introduce myself. He shook my hand firmly, smiled, seemingly encouraged, and led me at once to his family. His son and daughters were obviously consumed with curiosity and gazed fixedly at me. Alexandra Feodorovna, stiff, proud and haughty, extended her hand reluctantly, as if under compulsion. Nor was I particularly eager to shake hands with her, our palms barely touching. This was typical of the difference in character and temperament between the husband and wife. I felt at once that Alexandra Feodorovna, though broken and angry, was a clever woman with a strong will. In those few seconds I understood the psychology of the whole tragedy that had been going on for many years behind the palace walls. My subsequent interviews with the Emperor, which were very few, only confirmed by first impression.…
I for one do not think he was the outcast, the inhuman monster, the deliberate murderer I used to imagine. I began to realize that there was a human side to him. It became clear to me that he had acquiesced in the whole ruthless system without being moved by any personal ill will and without even realizing that it was bad. His mentality and his circumstances kept him wholly out of touch with the people. He heard of the blood and tears of thousands upon thousands only through official documents, in which they were represented as “measures” taken by the authorities “in the interest of the peace and safety of the State.” Such reports did not convey to him the pain and suffering of the victims, but only the “heroism” of the soldiers “faithful in the fulfillment of their duty to the Czar and the Fatherland.” From his youth he had been trained to believe that his welfare and the welfare of Russia were one and the same thing, so that the “disloyal” workmen, peasants and students who were shot down, executed or exiled seemed to him mere monsters and outcasts of humanity who must be destroyed for the sake of the country and the “faithful subjects” themselves.…