It is far from uncommon to find admirers of both the House of Romanov and of Tsar Nicholas II. He is seen as a loving family man and a well meaning, but ineffectual ruler. As this post shall reveal, however, there was also another side to the personality of the Last Tsar.

Throughout the Great War, the French Ambassador to the Russian Imperial Court, Maurice Paleologue, kept a detailed diary. Following his return to France, M. Paleologue published his diary in three volumes. In 1925, George H. Doran & Company published an English translation under the title, “An Ambassador’s Memoirs.” 

M. Paleologue’s diary remains a priceless primary source for anyone who wishes to study the sunken Atlantis of Tsarist Russia. Among the most fascinating entries, however, describes Paleologue’s audience with Tsar Nicholas during the fall of 1914. The Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary had just asked to open peace negotiations through neutral channels. As Paleologue’s diary reveals, the Tsar and his Foreign Minister, Count Sergei Sazonov, had no desire to accept. 

In his recent book, “The Russian Origins of the First World War,” historian Sean McMeekin has written that M. Paleologue has provided, “a precious glimpse into what Russia’s ‘Little Father’ thought his peasant children were fighting, bleeding, and dying for.” Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottomon Empire were to be dismantled into smaller states — almost certainly under Russian political and cultural influence. The Hapsburgs were to be shorn, not only of their Empire, but of Vienna itself and reduced to ruling only Salzburg and Tyrol. The Prussian Hohenzollerns were to be dethroned as Kaisers of the German Empire, which the Tsar intended to divide again into minuscule Princely States. Constantinople was to be under Russian rule and Turkey was to be reduced to the province surrounding Ankara. 

When reading M. Paleologue’s description of this audience, I was shocked by the similarity between the hubristic statements of the Last Tsar and those of Napoleon Bonaparte. Tragically, the Tsar and his family would pay with their lives for his decision to commit his country to a war for which the Russian military had neither the supplies or the training to fight. Even more tragically, so would millions of others. For if Russia had not entered the Great War, there would have been no October Revolution, Red Terror, or Stalinist Purges. Therefore, I must say, with Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “I feel sorry for Russia.”

From, “An Ambassador’s Memoirs,” Volume I.

Saturday, November 21, 1914

This morning Sazonov said to me: “The Emperor will receive you at four o’clock. Officially he has nothing to say; but he wants to talk to you frankly and without restraint. I warn you your audience will be a long one.

At three o’clock I left in a special train for Tsarskoïe-Selo. Snow was falling heavily. Under the wan light from the sky the great plain in which Petrograd is set lay pale, misty and drab. It made me feel gloomy with its reminder of the plains of Poland where at this very moment thousands of men are dying and thousands others suffer the tortures of wounds.

Although my audience was a private one I had to put on my full-dress uniform, as is fitting for a meeting with the Tsar, Autocrat of all the Russias. The Director of Ceremonies, Evreinov, went with me. He also was a symphony in gold braid.

From Tsarskoïe-Selo station to Alexander Palace is a short distance, less than a verst. In the open space before one reaches the park a little church, mediæval in style, raises its pretty cupola above the snow; it is the Feodorovsky Sobor, one of the Empress’s favourite resorts for private devotion.

Alexander Palace showed me its most intimate side, for ceremonial was reduced to a minimum. My escort consisted only of Evreinov, a household officer in undress uniform and a footman in his picturesque (Tsaritsa Elizabeth) dress with the hat adorned with long red, black and yellow plumes. I was taken through the audience rooms, then the Empress’s private drawing-room, down a long corridor leading to the private apartments of the sovereigns in which I passed a servant in very plain livery who was carrying a tea tray. Further on was the foot of a little private staircase leading to the rooms of the imperial children. A lady’s maid flitted away from the landing above. The last room at the end of the corridor is occupied by Prince Mestschersky, personal aide-de-camp. I waited there barely a minute. The gaily and weirdly bedecked Ethiopian who mounted guard outside His Majesty’s study opened the door almost at once.

The Emperor received me with that gracious and somewhat shy kindness which is all his own.

The room in which he received me is small and has only one window. The furniture is plain and comfortable there are plain leather chairs, a sofa covered with a Persian rug, a bureau and shelves arranged with meticulous care, a table spread with maps and a low book case with photographs, busts and family souvenirs on the top shelf.

As usual the Emperor hesitated over his preliminary remarks, which are kind personal enquiries and attentions, but soon he became more at his ease:

“Let’s make ourselves at home and be comfortable first, as I shall keep you some time. Have this chair. . . . We’ll put this little table between us: that’s better. Here are the cigarettes: Turkish. I’ve no business to smoke them as they were given to me by a fresh enemy, the Sultan. But they’re extremely nice and, anyhow, I haven’t any others. Let me have my maps. . . . And now we can talk.”

He lit his cigarette, offered me a light and went straight to the heart of the subject:

“Great things have happened in the three months since I saw you last. The splendid French army and my dear army have already given such proof of valour that victory can’t fail us now. . . . Don’t think I’m under any illusion as to the trials and sacrifices the war still has in store for us; but so far we have a right, and even a duty, to consider together what we should have to do if Austria or Germany sued for peace. You must observe that it would unquestionably be in Germany’s interest to treat for peace while her military power is still formidable. But isn’t Austria very exhausted already? Well, what should we do if Germany or Austria asked for peace?”

“The first question,” I said, ” is to consider whether peace can be negotiated if we are not forced to dictate it to our enemies. . . . However moderate we may be we shall obviously have to insist on guarantees and reparations from the Central Powers, demands they will not accept before they are at our mercy.”

“That’s my own view. We must dictate the peace and I am determined to continue the war until the Central Powers are destroyed. But I regard it as essential that the terms of the peace should be discussed by us three, France, England and Russia-and by us three alone. No Congress or mediation for me! So when the time comes we shall impose our will upon Germany and Austria.”

“What is your general idea of the terms of peace, Sire?”

After a moment’s consideration the Emperor resumed:

“What we must keep before us as our first object is the destruction of German militarism, the end of the nightmare from which Germany has made us suffer for more than forty years. We must make it impossible for the German people even to think of revenge. If we let ourselves be swayed by sentiment there will be a fresh war within a very short time. . . . As for the precise terms of peace I must tell you at once that I accept here and now any conditions France and England think it their duty to put forward in their own interest.”

“I thank Your Majesty for that intimation; I am certain that the Government of the Republic in turn will meet the wishes of the imperial Government in the most sympathetic spirit.”

“What you say encourages me to tell you all I think. But I m only giving you my own view, as I don’t like to open questions of this kind without consulting my ministers and generals.” 

He drew his chair close to mine, spread a map of Europe on the table between us, lit another cigarette and continued in an even more intimate and familiar tone: “This is more or less my view of the results Russia is entitled to expect from the war, results failing which my people will not understand the sacrifices I have require of them. . . . In East Prussia Germany must accept a rectification of the frontier. My General Staff would like this rectification to be extended to the mouths of the Vistula. That seems to me excessive; I’ll look into the question. Posen and possibly a portion of Silesia will be indispensable to the reconstitution of Poland. Galicia and the western half of the Bukovina will enable Russia to obtain her natural frontier, the Carpathians. . . . In Asia Minor I shall have to consider the question of the Armenians of course; I certainly could not let them return to the Turkish yoke. Ought I to annex Armenia? I shall only do so if the Armenians expressly ask me to. Otherwise I shall establish an autonomous regime for them. Lastly, I shall be compelled to secure my Empire a free passage through the Straits.”

As he stopped at these words I pressed him to enlighten me further. He continued:

“I am far from having made up my mind. The matter is of such grave importance. But there are two conclusion to which I am always being brought back; first, that the Turks must be expelled from Europe; secondly, that Constantinople must in future be neutral, with an international regime. I need hardly say that the Mohammedans should receive all necessary guarantees that sanctuaries and tombs will be respected. Western Thrace to the Enos-Midia line should be given to Bulgaria. The rest, from that line to the shores of the Straits but excluding the environs of Constantinople, would be assigned Russia.”

“So if I have understood you correctly, the Turks will be confined to Asia—as in the days of the first Osmanlis— and have Angora or Koniah for their capital. The Bosphorus, the Sea of Marmora and the Dardanelles will thus form the western frontier of Turkey.”

“Exactly.”

“Your Majesty will forgive me for interrupting again to remind you that in Syria and Palestine France has a precious heritage of historical memories and moral and material interests. May I assume that Your Majesty would acquiesce in any measures the Government of the Republic might think fit to take to safeguard that inheritance?”

“Certainly!”

Then he spread out a map of the Balkans and indicated broadly his view of the territorial changes we should desire:

“Serbia should annex Bosnia, Herzegovina, Dalmatia and Northern Albania. Greece should have southern Albania with the exception of Valona, which must be assigned to Italy. If Bulgaria behaves properly she should receive compensation in Macedonia from Serbia.”

He carefully folded up the map of the Balkans and as carefully returned it to its exact place on his table. Then crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair he fixed his eyes on the ceiling and asked in a dreamy voice:

“What about Austria-Hungary? What’s to become of her? “

“If the victories of your armies develop beyond the Carpathians and Italy and Rumania enter the field Austria-Hungary will hardly survive the territorial sacrifices the Emperor Francis Joseph will be obliged to accept. When the Austro-Hungarian partnership has gone bankrupt I imagine the partners won’t wish to go on working together, at any rate on the same terms.”

“I think so too. . . . When Hungary loses Transylvania she’ll have some difficulty in keeping the Croats under her sway. Bohemia will demand its autonomy at the least and Austria will thus find herself reduced to her ancient hereditary states, German Tyrol and the district of Salzburg.”

Hereupon he lapsed into silence for a moment, his brows contracted and his eyes half closed as if he were repeating to himself what he was about to tell me. Then he cast a glance at the portrait of his father on the wall behind me and continued:

“But it is primarily in Germany that the great changes will take place. As I have said, Russia will annex the former Polish territories and part of East Prussia. France will certainly recover Alsace-Lorraine and possibly obtain the Rhine Provinces as well. Belgium should receive a substantial accession of territory in the region of Aix-la-Chapelle; she thoroughly deserves it! As for or the German Colonies, France and England will divide them as they think fit. Further, I should like Schleswig, including the Kiel Canal zone, to be restored to Denmark. . . . And Hanover? Wouldn’t it be wise to revive Hanover? By setting up a small independent state between Prussia and Holland we should do much towards putting the future peace on a solid basis. After all, it is that which must guide our deliberations and actions. Our work cannot be justified before God and History unless it is inspired by a great moral idea and the determination to secure the peace of the world for a very long time to come.”

As he uttered these last words he sat up in his chair his voice quivered a little under the influence of a solemn religious emotion. In his eyes shone a strange light. His conscience and his faith were visibly at work. But neither in his attitude nor his expression was there a suggestion of pose: nothing but perfect simplicity.

“Doesn’t it mean the end of the German Empire?” I said.

He replied in firm tones:

“Germany can adopt any organization she likes, but the imperial dignity cannot be allowed to remain in the House of Hohenzollern. Prussia must return to the status of a kingdom only. . . . Isn’t that your opinion also, Ambassador?”

“The German Empire, as conceived, founded and governed by the Hohenzollerns, is so obviously directed against the French nation that I shall certainly not attempt its defence. France would have a great guarantee if all the powers of the German world ceased to be in the hands of Prussia. . . .”

Our talk had already lasted more than an hour. After a few moments of reflection the Emperor remarked, as if he had suddenly remembered something:

“We mustn’t think merely of the immediate results of the war: we must consider the remoter future, too. . . . I attach the very greatest importance to the maintenance of our alliance. The work we have set out to do and which has already cost us such efforts and sacrifices will be permanent only if we remain united. As we know we are striving for the peace of the world it is essential that our work should be permanent.”

As he delivered himself of this finale, an obvious and necessary finale, to our conversation, I could see in his eyes the same strange, mystic light I had observed a few minutes earlier. His ancestor, Alexander I, must have worn this fervent and inspired expression when he preached to Metternich and Hardenberg about the Holy Alliance of kings against peoples. Yet in Madame von Krüdener’s friend there was a certain theatrical affectation, a kind of romantic exaltation. Nicholas II, on the other hand, is sincerity itself: he endeavours to contain rather than give rein to his feelings, to conceal rather than deploy his emotions.

The Emperor rose, offered me another cigarette and remarked in the most casual and friendly way: “What glorious memories we shall share, my dear Ambassador! Do you remember? . . .”

And he reminded me of the days immediately preceding the war, that harassing week from July 25 to August 2; he recounted even the most trivial details and laid particular emphasis on the personal telegrams which had passed between the Emperor William and himself:

“He was never sincere; not for a moment! In the end he was hopelessly entangled in the net of his own perfidy and lies. . . . Have you ever been able to account for the telegram he sent me six hours after giving me his declaration of war? It’s utterly impossible to explain what happened. I don’t remember if I’ve ever told you. It was half-past one in the morning of August 2. I had just received your English colleague who had brought me a telegram from King George begging me to do everything possible to save peace. I had drafted, with Sir George Buchanan’s help, the telegram with which you are familiar, which ended with an appeal for England’s help in arms as the war was forced on us by Germany. The moment Buchanan had left I went to the Empress’s room, as she was already in bed, to show her King George’s telegram and have a cup of tea with her before retiring myself. I stayed with her until two in the morning. Then I wanted to have a bath, as I was very tired. I was just getting in when my servant knocked at the door saying he had a telegram for me. ‘A very important telegram, very important indeed . . a telegram from His Majesty the Emperor William; I read the telegram, read it again and then repeated it aloud . . . but I couldn’t understand a word. at on earth does William mean, I thought, pretending that it still depends on me whether war is averted or not! He implores me not to let my troops cross the frontier! Have I suddenly gone mad? Didn’t the Minister of the Court, my trusted Fredericks, at least six hours ago bring me the declaration of war the German Ambassador had just handed to Sazonov? I returned to the Empress’s room and read her William’s telegram. She had to read it herself to bring herself to believe it. She said to me immediately: ‘You’re not going to answer it, are you? ‘ ‘ Certainly not.’

“There’s no doubt that the object of this strange and farcical telegram was to shake my resolution, disconcert me and inspire me to some absurd and dishonourable step. It produced the opposite effect. As I left the Empress’s room I felt that all was over for ever between me and William. I slept extremely well. When I woke, at my usual hour, I felt as if a weight had fallen from mind. My responsibility to God and my people was still enormous, but at least I knew what I had to do.”

“I think, Sire, I could give a somewhat different explanation of the Emperor William’s telegram.”

“Really! Let me have it! “

“The Emperor William is not a man of courage

“He is not.”

“He’s a comedian and a braggart. He never dares to go right through with what he undertakes. He has often reminded me of an actor playing the murderer in melodrama who suddenly finds that his weapon is loaded and that he’s really going to kill his victim. How often have we not seen him frightened by his own pantomime? When he ventured on his famous Tangier pronouncement, in 1905, he stopped quite suddenly in the middle of his scenario. . . . I am inclined to think that the moment he had issued his declaration of war he got frightened. He realized the formidable results of his action and wanted to throw all the responsibility on you. Perhaps, too, he clung to some fantastic hope of producing by his telegram some unexpected, inconceivable, miraculous event which would enable him to escape the consequences of his crime . . . . “

“Well, your explanation is quite in keeping with William’s character.”

The clock struck six.

“My word, it’s late!” the Emperor said. ” I’m afraid I’ve wearied you, but I’m glad to have had an opportunity of talking freely to you.”

As he led me to the door I asked him about the fighting in Poland. “It’s a great battle,” he said, “and raging with the greatest fury. The Germans are making frantic efforts to break our line; they won’t succeed and they can’t remain long in their present positions. So I hope that before long we shall resume our advance.”

“General de Laguiche wrote to me recently that the Grand Duke Nicholas still keeps a march on Berlin as his one and only objective.”

“Yes, I don’t yet know where we shall be able to get through. Between the Carpathians and the Oder, perhaps? Or between Breslau and Posen? Or north of Posen. It depends a good deal on the fighting now in progress around Lodz and in the neighbourhood of Cracow. But Berlin is certainly our sole objective. The fighting is equally violent on your side. This furious Yser battle is going in your favour. Your marines have covered themselves with glory. It’s a serious reverse for the Germans, nearly as serious as their defeat on the Marne. . . . Well, good-bye, my dear Ambassador! Once more, I’m very glad to have been able to talk so freely with you! “