“Strengthen the hope of the martyred Tsar, the Tsarina, their children, and confirm them in Your love, foretelling their future rest; by their prayers, Lord, have mercy on us.”
(Kontakion 2 to the Royal Passion-Bearers, Tone 6)
Pierre Gilliard, tutor to the children of the Royal Family:
“I hold a sharp memory of that dreadful ordeal in which I played a close part. The deep calm of spirit and ardent faith of those who suffered linger with me still. It was not their Imperial rank that drew me to them, but the nobility of their hearts and the striking moral strength they showed in pain.”
We all conceal within our souls a world of wonder,
Where fairy tale and love are woven into one,
Where happiness will not shock us like a guest from yonder,
That world where slaves can reign beneath their private sun.
All that mockery from men has torn apart,
We have carried to that world with our despondent heart.
How bright this realm does shine, our treasured diamond rare!
How lovely is this corner dressed in its own sorrow!
In it lives all that's true, for which they spurned us there,
In it lives all that's fair, of which we dared not borrow...
And there, above the victims of mankind, you soar,
O dreams — the clouds of sky-blue soul we're yearning for!
Thus, the oppressed soul grows more luminous and pure,
Becoming brighter sometimes just for its own seeing,
And every person is a graveyard most obscure
Of all they brought with them, while hoping and believing.
V. Paley
Pierre Gilliard:
“On 10 March 1917, unrest broke out in Petrograd. By 11 March, the situation had suddenly become dire. By telephone, we learnt that the rebels were drawing closer and that they had just shot a sentry only 500 paces from the palace. The sound of gunfire drew ever nearer, and a clash seemed sure to come. The Empress, overcome with dread at the thought that blood might be shed before her eyes, went out with Maria Nikolaevna to speak with the soldiers, urging them to keep calm. She begged for talks to begin with the rebels. The decisive moment arrived. Tension gripped every heart. A single rash move could spark hand-to-hand fighting and a massacre. Officers from both sides stepped forward and began to talk. The words of their former commanders, and the resolve of those who stayed true to duty, began to move the rebels. Slowly, the strain eased. At last, they agreed to mark out a buffer zone between the factions.
So the night passed. We spent 15 March in anxious waiting. The Empress bore her anguish into the following day, made worse by the agony of doing nothing. Her torment in those dark hours — cut off from word of the Tsar, gripped by despair at her sick child’s bedside — went beyond anything one might imagine. She reached the very edge of what a human soul can bear; it was her final test, and she came through it with that clear and peaceful calm which afterwards carried her and her whole family through to their end.
On 21 March, at half past ten in the morning, Her Majesty called for me and said that General Kornilov, on behalf of the Provisional Government, had just informed her that the Tsar and she were now under arrest, and that anyone unwilling to submit to prison rules must leave the palace by four o’clock. I answered that I had chosen to remain.
Servants who remained in the Alexander Palace under arrest with the Royal Passion-Bearers
I went to Alexei Nikolaevich and told him that the Tsar would return from Mogilev the next day and would not go back again, and that he no longer wished to be Emperor.
He looked at me in surprise, searching my face for answers.
"Why? For what reason?"
"Because he is very tired and has endured much lately."
"Oh, yes! Mama told me that when he wanted to travel here, his train was held up. But will Papa be Emperor again later?"
I then explained that the Tsar had stepped down in favour of Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich, who in turn had declined.
"Then who will be Emperor?"
"I do not know — for now, no one."
Not once did he speak of himself or hint at his own claim as heir. He flushed deeply and grew upset.
After a few moments of silence, he asked,
"If there is no longer a Tsar, who will rule Russia?"
I told him that a Provisional Government had formed, which would run the country until the Constituent Assembly was called, and that perhaps then his uncle Michael might take the throne.
Once more, I was struck by the humility of this child.
At four o’clock, the palace doors were locked. We were prisoners! The Combined Guards Regiment was replaced by one from the Tsarskoye Selo garrison, and the soldiers now stood watch not to protect us, but to keep us in.
On 22 March, at eleven in the morning, the Tsar finally arrived, accompanied by Chamberlain Prince Dolgorukov. He went straight up to the children, where the Empress was waiting for him. Despite the circumstances, the Tsar’s return brought great happiness to his family. It comforted them to be together in such a harsh trial. They felt that this eased their sorrow, and the deep love they shared gave them enough strength to bear any pain.
The Grand Duchesses had suffered measles during the winter; the illness cost them their hair, which had to be cut short.
The Empress lived a rich inner life and spoke little. She was glad that the struggle was over, and that she could give herself wholly to those she loved so dearly. Only Maria Nikolaevna still caused her worry. Illness struck her much later than her sisters, and it was made worse by a malignant pneumonia. Again and again this seventeen-year-old drained her last strength during the days of the revolution. She became her mother’s firmest support. On the night of 13 March, she stepped out into the cold with the Empress to speak with the soldiers, even as she already felt the first signs of the sickness.
Around 15 November, we learnt that the Provisional Government had been overthrown and the Bolsheviks had seized power. The Imperial family stayed at Tsarskoye Selo for five months, until August 1917. During those five months of confinement, which I spent with them, I kept a diary of our shared life.”
We search for joy — but joy is always here at hand,
In every trifle of our daily rites and dealings,
But only pure of heart can truly understand,
It's not for those consumed by rage and bitter feelings...
We search for happiness, but happiness stays near,
Within the power of all, at every person's gateway,
In silence of repose and beauty's working sphere,
In hope for humankind and trusting God's own way...
V. Paley
“What drove the Council of Ministers to exile the Imperial family to Tobolsk? It is hard to say. In any case, we left at six in the morning on 14 August and reached Tyumen, the railway station nearest to Tobolsk, on the evening of the 17th. A few hours later, we boarded the steamer ‘Rus’, which ferried us to our destination. At first, we had all we needed. Church services took place in the house. The priest from the Annunciation church, a deacon, and four nuns from the Ivanovsky Monastery were allowed to come and serve. But with no antimension, it was not possible to celebrate the Divine Liturgy. This was a great loss for the family. At last, on 21 September, during the feast of the Nativity of the Theotokos, the captives were allowed to step into a church for the first time. This brought them great joy, but such comfort became rare in the days that followed.
The Tsar struggled greatly with the lack of exercise. When he mentioned this to Colonel Kobylinsky, birch logs and axes were bought. We then had the chance to cut firewood for the kitchen and stoves. This became one of our main pastimes in the fresh air during our stay in Tobolsk, and even the Grand Duchesses grew fond of this new sport.”
Passion-bearer Yevgeny Sergeyevich Botkin:
“Tobolsk, 24 December 1917. I trust this brief note will not weigh down the letter, but on Christmas Eve, I wish to write a few words to you, my dearest friend, my beloved, my sweet boy. This evening I went to the Christmas tree at house No. 1. There, the women of the family prepared gifts for everyone with such warmth and spirit that they managed to create a real holiday for all around them… I could not arrange anything special for the children myself, but they still delighted in presents and treats, which some of my good patients in Tobolsk sent me for the feast. Your papa sends his kisses and love, my little angel of comfort, kisses and holds you dear.”
The Lord's in all, the Lord's in all:
Not just in stars that gently call,
Not just in flowers sweet and bright,
Not just in dreams of pure delight,
But in the darkness of the poor,
In blind panic's fearful roar,
In everything that's dark and sore,
That's given us to suffer more...
The Lord's within our sobbing pain,
In silent grief when loved ones wane,
In faithless searches of the mind —
The Lord...
Through this our life we must ascend
To reach that land we can't comprehend,
Where with the crimson trace of nails
Christ touches human wounds and ails...
And that's why flesh must fade and fall,
And that's why God is in it all.
V. Paley, August 1917
From the diary of Pierre Gilliard, tutor to the children of the Royal Family:
“Friday, 18 January (1918). At three in the afternoon, a new priest and singers arrived. Today was the blessing of the waters. As young Alexei Nikolaevich stepped forward to the cross after the others, the priest bent down and kissed him on his forehead. After the service, General Tatishchev and Prince Dolgorukov went to the Tsar and begged him to remove his epaulettes, to avoid provoking the soldiers. At first, he bristled, his face a mask of defiance. But then, a silent glance passed between him and the Empress, a few hushed words, and he steadied himself. For the sake of his beloved family, he yielded.
Saturday, 19 January. This morning we went to church. The Tsar wore his Circassian coat — no epaulettes — and Alexei tucked his own under his hood.
Monday, 25 February. A telegram reached Colonel Kobylinsky today, informing him that from 1 March “Nicholas Romanov and his family are to be placed on a soldier’s ration, and each member will receive 600 roubles monthly, drawn from the interest on their personal estate.” Until now, the state had borne all costs.
Friday, 1 March. The new rules took hold today. From now on, butter and coffee are off our table, as they are seen as luxuries.
Friday, 22 March. At a quarter past nine, after the evening service, everyone confessed: the children, the servants, the staff, and finally Their Majesties.
Saturday, 23 March. We went to church this morning at half past seven. We received Communion.
Tuesday, 26 March. A band of over one hundred Red Guards marched into Omsk today, the first Bolshevik soldiers to breach the Tobolsk garrison. Our last hope of escape is gone.
Tuesday, 16 April. Colonel Kobylinsky, the officer on guard, and several soldiers came to search the house. They took from the Tsar the dagger he wore with his Cossack uniform.
Monday, 22 April. A Moscow commissar arrived today with a small detachment; his name is Yakovlev. In the evening, I took tea with Their Majesties. Everyone is anxious and terribly unsettled. The commissar’s arrival brings an unclear but very real threat.
Thursday, 25 April. Just before three in the afternoon, word reached me that Yakovlev had been dispatched from Moscow to spirit the Tsar away, and that the departure would happen that very night.
The Empress paced the room, torn by doubt:
“I cannot let the Tsar go alone. They want, just as before, to separate him from his family...”
At last, she came to me and said,
“Yes, I will go with the Tsar; I place Alexei in your care... It is decided. Maria will go with us as well.”
Prince Dolgorukov, Doctor Botkin, along with Chemodurov, the Tsar’s loyal valet, Anna Demidova, the Empress’s trusted maid, and Sednev, who served the Grand Duchesses, would travel with Their Majesties. Eight officers and soldiers from our guard would go as well. We masked our pain and strove to appear calm. We all felt that if even one of us faltered, the rest would too. The Tsar and Empress bore a grave, steady air. It was plain they stood ready to give all, even their very lives, should the Lord, in His mysterious will, demand such a price for the country’s deliverance. Never had they shown us such kindness and care as in those days. The great clarity of spirit and striking faith that filled them seemed to pass on to us as well.
At half past three in the morning, carriages arrived in the yard. They were rough, rickety vehicles. We laid a mattress in the one chosen for the Empress.
Sunday, 5 May. Easter. Still no news.
Tuesday, 7 May. At last, the children received a note from Yekaterinburg. It assured us all were safe, yet offered no hint as to why they had stopped there. Such worry lies between those lines!
Wednesday, 8 May. The officers and soldiers of our guard who had accompanied Their Majesties returned from Ekaterinburg. They told us that the imperial train had been surrounded by Red Army troops when it reached Ekaterinburg, and that the Tsar, Tsarina, and Maria Nikolaevna were held in the Ipatiev House, that Dolgorukov was in prison, and that they themselves were released only after two days in captivity.
Saturday, 11 May. Colonel Kobylinsky was removed, and we fell under the authority of the Tobolsk Soviet.
Friday, 17 May. Red Guards replaced the soldiers of our guard. General Tatishchev and I both felt we should delay our departure as much as possible; the Grand Duchesses burned to see their parents, and we had no right to stand in the way of their wish.
Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg, the final place of imprisonment of the Royal Passion-Bearers
Wednesday, 22 May. We reached Tyumen as morning broke.
At once, we were marched, under heavy escort, to a special train bound for Yekaterinburg. As I prepared to board with my young charge, they tore us apart. I was shoved into a fourth-class carriage, watched, like all the others, by sentries. We reached Ekaterinburg at night, and the train stopped some way from the station. A few minutes passed, then sailor Nagorny, assigned to Alexei Nikolaevich, walked past my window carrying the sick boy in his arms; behind him came the Grand Duchesses, weighed down with suitcases and small bundles.
I stepped towards the door, yet the guard thrust me back into the carriage.
I returned to the window. Tatiana Nikolaevna was the last in line, clutching her little dog, while wrestling with a heavy brown suitcase. The rain fell, and with each step she sank into the mud. Nagorny tried to help her, but one of the commissars pushed him away with force. Moments later, the coachmen set off, taking the children towards the city.
How could I have guessed that this would be my final glimpse of those dear souls with whom I had shared countless years? I was sure someone would come for us, that soon we would be together once more. Yet our train was sent back to the station. Around five o’clock, Commissar Rodionov — who had come for us in Tobolsk — entered our carriage and told us, “You are no longer needed,” and, “You are free…”
Passion-Bearer Yevgeny Sergeyevich Botkin:
“Ekaterinburg, Ipatiev House, May 1918. The garden here is very small, but so far the weather has spared us much grief over it. Still, I must say this is just my own view, for in our complete surrender to fate and to those who hold our lives, we dare not even ask ourselves what tomorrow may bring. We rest in the knowledge, as Scripture warns, “Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” We can only hope that the trouble of the day might not prove truly dark. We have seen many new faces here — staff shift in and out, swapped with startling speed. Some commission arrived to inspect our quarters; others came to probe us about money, with offers to deposit any extra for safekeeping (which, as usual, I did not have). In short, we seem to cause them plenty of bother, though, in truth, we have never imposed ourselves or sought out trouble… I finish this in pencil, since the holidays mean I have still not been able to get a pen or ink of my own, and must keep borrowing, more than anyone else, it seems.”
Yevgeny Sergeyevich Botkin
Doctor Botkin spent his last birthday, 14 May, in the Ipatiev House — he turned fifty-three. Yet despite this relatively youthful age, he sensed his end drawing near.
The Romanov Royal Family
The ache in his spirit, this soon-to-be martyr spilled into his last letter to his younger brother Alexander: “My dear, good friend Sasha, I am trying to write you this letter — at least, from here — though I suppose such qualification is, in truth, not needed: I do not think I shall ever write from anywhere else. My willing captivity here remains as bounded by time as my earthly life itself.
In truth, I am gone — lost to my children, my companions, to the cause... I am gone, yet not laid to rest, or perhaps entombed while still breathing — take your pick, for the outcome is much the same. Both states carry their burdens and their blessings. If I were, in fact — anatomically — dead, then by my faith, I would know what my children were doing, I would be nearer to them and, without doubt, more useful than I am now. While I am dead only in the eyes of the world, my children may still hope we will see each other again in this life, and I may yet manage to do them some good. But I do not let myself be soothed by such hope, nor do I comfort myself with dreams. I look the plain truth in the eye…
Emperor Nicholas II
When we were still not graduates, but just a class — though already close, holding and growing the ideals with which we stepped into life — we rarely looked at them from a religious point of view. After all, if “faith without works is dead,” works can exist without faith, and if any of us found faith added to our works, it was only by God’s special kindness. I was one of those fortunate few, though by way of bitter loss — the death of my first-born, my dear little son Sergei. From then, my life principles grew and took shape; in each matter, I sought not only what was best for the class, but what was right before God. This explains my final choice, when I did not falter in leaving my children as orphans, so I might do my duty as a doctor to the end, just as Abraham did not waver when God asked him for his only son. I firmly believe that, just as God saved Isaac then, He will now save my children and be a Father to them Himself. But since I do not know what shape their salvation will take, and can only know it from the next world, my selfish pain, as I have told you, loses none of its sting for all that. Job suffered more, and my late Misha always reminded me of him, fearing that, if I lost my children, I might not endure. No, it seems I can bear whatever the Lord God chooses to send me…”
This letter was never sent.
A bloody, stormy age has come. From this day on
The kings must bear their heavy cross of fate.
To take their place a free folk marches on —
Free only in their words — but in their state
Just idle with the dreadful sloth of crime!
Do not forget those days are drawing near,
When crowds can be restrained no more by time.
..........
And bear in mind that 'neath the crown's design
God's kingdom hides within the heavens' sphere!
V. Paley, May 1915
Pierre Gilliard:
“Behind the wooden fence of his prison, the Tsar fought his last battle. With the Empress by his side, he turned down every compromise. They had nothing left to give but their lives. They chose to give even that, rather than come to terms with the enemy who had ruined their homeland and stripped away its dignity.
And so, death arrived. Yet it shrank from tearing apart those whom life had drawn so close, and so it took all seven, united in one faith and one love. The events spoke for themselves. Anything I might say would pale, mere whispers against the heavy weight of what happened.”
Tatiana Melnik-Botkina, daughter of the passion-bearer Yevgeny Botkin:
“Life for those held in the Ipatiev House grew more dreadful with each passing day. They searched the rooms and took all that was precious. From Alexei Nikolaevich, they tore a gold chain from his bed, a chain that held his icons. When food was brought — whatever scraps were left after the guards had eaten — they spat in it or took it away just as the prisoners began to eat. At first, the Grand Duchesses cooked porridge and pasta for Her Majesty on a spirit stove, with supplies brought by Derevenka, but soon Derevenka was no longer allowed to visit, and they received nothing more.
Then came a new overseer — Yurovsky. The guards treated them with open mockery, but Their Majesties bore it all with true Christian humility, as saints do. They met a martyr’s end on the night of 16 to 17 July 1918.
The Holy Royal Passion-Bearers
Word of this grim and unheard-of deed swept through Siberia, no matter how the culprits tried to hide it. Of course, none of us believed it at first — until I reached Vladivostok and met those who had seen the case file kept by General Diterikhs.
On the night of 16 to 17 July 1918, the royal prisoners were told to ready themselves for travel. The whole family, my father, gathered swiftly in the dim basement of the Ipatiev House. They did not wait long. Yurovsky entered with twelve soldiers — only two were Russian, the rest were Jews and Latvians. Yurovsky said to the Tsar:
“You refused help from your relatives, so I must shoot you.”
The Tsar, perfectly calm, made the sign of the cross and knelt, still holding the heir. The Empress also crossed herself and knelt.
Shots rang out…”
Church of the Holy Royal Passion-Bearers
Pierre Gilliard:
“The Emperor and Empress believed they died for their Homeland. In truth, they died for all mankind. Their real greatness lay not in their imperial standing — though, as we have seen, that mattered and still matters — but in reaching the highest human virtues, which they grew into step by step. They became whole in spirit; this gave them not earthly strength, but the same bright calm and firmness of soul as the first Christian witnesses, against whom all human fury is powerless, and who triumph even in death.”
Prepared by the team of obitel-minsk.ru
Photographs from the Internet
Sources:
1. “Emperor Nicholas II and His Family” — Pierre Gilliard
2. “Memories of the Imperial Family” — Tatiana Melnik-Botkina https://3rm.info/publications/6565-vospominaniya-o-carskoj-seme-tatyana-melnik.html
3. Yuri Zhuk — “Those Who Endured to the End: The Fates of the Tsar’s Servants Who Remained True to Duty and Oath” https://www.guardcrew.com/sites/default/files/common_resourses/books/Juk.pdf
4. Music of the Soul: Letters of Passion-Bearer Yevgeny Botkin, Physician to the Imperial Family. — Ekaterinburg: Publishing House of St Alexander Nevsky Novo-Tikhvin Women’s Monastery, 2021
