The Quest for Anastasia: Solving the Mystery of the Lost Romanovs

The Quest for Anastasia: Solving the Mystery of the Lost Romanovs

by John Klier, Helen Mingay


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780806520643
Publisher: Carol Publishing Group
Publication date: 02/28/1999
Pages: 235
Product dimensions: 8.97(w) x 6.03(h) x 0.79(d)

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The Romanovs' Last Journey

'THIS IS THE first time in my life I have no idea how to act. Until now God has shown me the way. Right now tho' I cannot hear his instructions.' The former Empress of Russia, Alexandra Fedorovna, was facing an uncharacteristic moment of doubt in the late winter of 1918. God had always been a reliable interlocutor in days past, often speaking to her in the guise of holy men, most notably 'Our Friend', the peasant mystic and faith healer Grigory Rasputin. Her confidence in divine guidance had shielded her through all the vicissitudes of a troubled life: the deadly haemophilia of her only son Alexei; the tottering of the throne itself in the revolutionary year of 1905; the start of the World War in 1914, which threatened the very existence of the empire, and finally the revolution of February-March 1917, which swept away the 300-year-old Romanov dynasty. Now, as she sat in Siberian exile, the old certainties seemed far away.

Princess Alix of Hesse, as Alexandra was known before her marriage, was the youngest child of Grand Duke Ludwig IV of Hesse, a small German principality. Her mother was the British Princess Alice, who died when Alix was only six. Thereafter, she fell to the benevolent care of her grandmother, Queen Victoria. The young Anglo-German princess, nicknamed 'Sunny' by her mother, was a typical product of the cosmopolitan courts of Europe, enjoying a gilded life while her elders went about the business of dynastic match-making. Her life rapidly changed when she was betrothed to the heir-apparent to the Russian throne, the Tsarevich Nikolai (Nicholas) Aleksandrovich, in 1894.

Alix was a conventionally pious Protestant. She found the required change of religion, a spiritual rebirth into the Russian Orthodox faith as Alexandra Fedorovna, to be extremely traumatic. She emerged from the process with all the enthusiasms of the recent convert. She became, in Prime Minister Alexander Kerensky's phrase, 'a wild Muscovite Tsaritsa'. Her particular brand of Orthodox religiosity contained a large dose of popular superstition and belief. Wonder-working icons, magic talismans, 'Holy Fools' and assorted mystics constituted a staple of her world-view. In particular she assimilated the religious imagery that underpinned Orthodox Russian rulers: the Tsar was an all-powerful ruler, whose strength came directly from God. He was the 'Little Father' of the Russian people, to whom he was bound by bonds of faith as the Lord's anointed, not the artificial constructions of democratic politics.

Since the Tsar's autocratic power was a divine gift, it had to be preserved and handed on from father to son, a belief that Alexandra held with special ferocity after the birth of her only son in 1904. Ironically, this new heir to the autocracy was born at the very moment when his father was being forced, in an effort to quell a rising revolutionary tide in 1904-5, to grant a constitution and a representative assembly, the Duma, to his people.

Alexandra's fate was linked to a ruler whom she knew lacked the ruthlessness that an autocracy required -- although in fact the time had long passed when either the demonic energy of a Peter the Great or the fortress mentality of a Nicholas I could hope to control or prevent change in Russia. No past Russian ruler, not Peter, nor Catherine, nor Alexander I, could have hoped to deal effectively with the disorienting social, economic and political changes that bestirred the Russian Empire as it hurtled into the twentieth century. Yet Nicholas lacked even the firm hand of his immediate Romanov predecessors. He was a mild-mannered man, whose wavering nature caused him both to act impulsively and to dig in his heels at the most inopportune times. It was not true, as is often alleged, that Nicholas merely shared the opinion of the last person with whom he had spoken. Rather, his advisers were driven to distraction by their inability to decide which factors helped the Emperor to make up his mind. Sometimes he attributed his decisions to an 'inner voice', but there were strong suspicions that the Empress played a role or -- even worse -- Rasputin himself.

Much is revealed by Nicholas's relationship with two of his prime ministers, Sergei Witte and Peter Stolypin. These two men were evidence that late imperial Russia was quite capable of producing leaders of sophistication and skill, who recognized their country's manifold problems and devised policies to deal with them. Nicholas was forced to rely heavily on them, and he resented the sense of weakness and inadequacy that this instilled in him. He dismissed Witte in 1906, at a time of maximum political instability, and he regarded the assassination of Stolypin -- which he witnessed in the Kiev Opera House -- with something approaching equanimity.

Witte's sin was to have persuaded a reluctant emperor in 1905 to sign the October Manifesto, which limited the imperial, autocratic power and created a representative body, the Duma. Nicholas agreed only when he was assured that, lacking this gesture, it would be impossible to suppress the revolutionary movement without terrible bloodshed. While some liberal opinion accepted the new arrangements, more radical revolutionaries rejected 'the police whip wrapped in the parchment of a constitution'.

Disorders continued, while Nicholas observed sarcastically that 'it is strange that such a clever man [as Witte] should be wrong in his forecast of an easy pacification.' Before the first Duma even met, Nicholas despaired of Witte -- '[I] have never seen such a chameleon of a man. That, naturally, is the reason why none believes in him anymore' -- and demanded his resignation.

Stolypin combined a ruthlessness that Witte lacked -- not for nothing did revolutionaries nickname the hangman's noose a Stolypin necktie -- with an imaginative programme of controlled internal reform, particularly the modernization of Russia's archaic agricultural sector. He was also a minister who insisted on having his own way. On more than one occasion Nicholas, faced with a Stolypin threat to resign, had to concur in policies with which he had little confidence. Stolypin was well aware of the Tsar's displeasure with this state of affairs and was in daily anticipation of dismissal.

An assassin's bullet saved Nicholas the unpleasantness of dismissing him. Nicholas briefly mourned his dying minister and then went off to a military review. The Empress, jealous of Stolypin's power over her husband, saw the hand of providence in all this. She exhorted V. N. Kokovtsov, Stolypin's successor, to put aside mourning. 'Believe me, one must not feel sorry for those who are no more. I am sure that everybody does only one's duty and fulfils one's destiny, and when one dies that means that his role is ended and that he was bound to go since his destiny was fulfilled ... I am sure that Stolypin died to make room for you, and this is all for the good of Russia.'

The crisis of 1905 demonstrated Nicholas's malleable character, and his ability to accept recommendations with which he did not fully agree. Alexandra was initially reduced to a stunned silence, but then embarked on a life-long effort to strengthen her husband's resolve and maintain his belief in his God-given power. In the name of supporting her husband and safeguarding the prerogatives of her son, she became a consummate political animal, but one with absolutely no understanding of the political realities of contemporary Russia, which she viewed through a romantic-mystical haze. She sought advice -- which she passed on to Nicholas -- from a bevy of adventurers and charlatans, of whom Rasputin was merely the most visible and damaging.

In particular the Empress detested the politicians produced by the parliamentary regime, and she continually urged her husband to rule lest he be ruled. This was advice that Nicholas was eager to take, since he himself despaired of anything constructive coming from the 'windbags' of the Duma. In particular, Emperor and Empress were united in their hostility to the sweetest liberal dream, a 'ministry of public confidence', which would be drawn from the elected Duma deputies rather than from the ranks of the professional bureaucracy. Nicholas's appointed ministers gazed across a political gulf at the elected Duma members. The resultant political instability did little to promote the evolution of new institutions required by a modernizing empire. Indeed, the death of the capable Stolypin was followed by a resurgence of political terrorism and popular discontent.

The outbreak of the World War in 1914 temporarily obscured these fundamental problems. Faced with the spectre of Germanic domination, the country rallied to the colours and to the Tsar, as the living symbol of the nation. Nicholas found himself the centre of an unaccustomed wave of popularity, exemplified by the huge popular demonstrations that accompanied the declaration of war in St Petersburg -- now defiantly renamed as the more Russian Petrograd -- and Moscow. Labour unrest dramatically declined, and the often truculent Duma unanimously passed the war budget.

The Russian leadership, like that of every other combatant, entered the war with a number of illusions. The first was that the war could be quickly won, and 'the boys home by Christmas'. When this proved illusory, it was replaced by confidence that one more push, one more break through the barbed-wire emplacements of no man's land would bring the war to a rapid end. Millions of men paid with their lives for these dreams of victory. The second illusion was that society could and would sustain the human and economic losses of the war indefinitely. To the contrary, war-weariness and disillusionment spread from the trenches to the civilian population in every combatant state. French generals shot their own rebellious troops pour encourager les autres, civilians in the Hapsburg Empire shot government officials and a growing sense of unease spread from Flanders fields to the British home front. In Russia recurrent military reverses engendered rumours that 'dark forces' were undermining the war effort. Increasingly this centred on the Empress and her entourage.

Alexandra detested Kaiser Wilhelm II and declared, at the outbreak of the war, that she was 'ashamed to be a German'. She threw herself into a number of war-relief charities, even establishing a medical clinic in the palace at Tsarskoe Selo. She and her daughters helped to tend wounded soldiers in the wards there. Yet the Empress remained obstinately blind to the need to placate public opinion. She chose to consider the dubious adventurers who surrounded her as the authentic and loyal voice of the Russian people. Most significant was Grigory Rasputin, the faith-healing peasant whose saintly reputation within the royal household was neatly balanced by a reputation for debauchery, which he acquired in the fleshpots of the nearby capital.

Rasputin's links to the Imperial Family were harmful, but not critical until 1915. In that year, following a series of Russian defeats, Nicholas determined to replace his uncle, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, as commander-in-chief of the Russian forces. The intention behind this decision -- made, typically, without consultation and announced in perfunctory fashion -- was entirely honourable. The Tsar wished to take the risks and share the dangers of his soldiers at the front. There was also some logic to combining civilian and military authority. Finally, it was largely a symbolic decision, since the real conduct of the war would remain in the hands of General M. V. Alekseev, the Chief of the General Staff.

Yet every plus of this decision was balanced by an equally strong minus. The Tsar himself was widely regarded as ill-omened and unlucky -- not for nothing had he been born on the church feast day of Job the Long-Suffering. Recurrent military defeats could only serve to discredit the dynasty and breed instability. Most importantly, in Russia's highly centralized political system, who was to be in charge if the Tsar was off at the front? Alexandra had a ready answer to this question: she would become the Tsar's 'eyes and ears' at home, loyally reporting on whatever mischief the Duma might get up to, especially after the creation of a Progressive Bloc, which had as its chief objective the creation of a 'government of public confidence'.

Certainly the public began to lose faith in the ministers the Tsar appointed, especially when they began to change with bewildering regularity, largely at the behest, it was rumoured, of Rasputin, whose advice was conveyed through the Empress. There was a mad scramble as opportunists paid court to Rasputin in the hope of political preference. Many succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. As the new Minister of the Interior, Aleksandr Protopopov, squealed in delight: 'All my life it was my dream to be a vice-governor, and here I am a minister!' In the 16 months when the Tsar was at the front, Russia had four prime ministers, five ministers of interior, four ministers of agriculture and three ministers of war. Even the lay head of the Russian Orthodox Church, the Ober-Procurator, was changed. Small wonder that one wag branded the process 'ministerial leapfrog'. The resultant chaos was laid to the malevolent influence of Rasputin. Salacious caricatures, bawdy rhymes and smutty jokes linked Alexandra and Rasputin. All this brought the dynasty into greater disrepute.

The growing crisis of confidence was there for all to see, and it ranged across the political spectrum. In the November 1916 session of the Duma, the leader of the liberal Constitutional Democrats made a sensational speech, listing all the failures of official policy and actually mentioning the Empress by name. After each policy disaster, he intoned rhetorically, 'Is this stupidity or is this treason?' At the other end of the political spectrum the reactionary Duma deputy Vladimir Purishkevich rounded on Rasputin, urging the Tsar to take action 'so that an obscure peasant shall govern Russia no longer.'

Criticism was not restricted to democratically elected politicians. Other members of the Romanov family grew alarmed that the activities of the Empress would fatally discredit the monarchy and lead to the destruction of the dynasty. A number of family ambassadors were dispatched to Nicholas at the front, to alert him to the danger. The Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich arrived at the Stavka, the command headquarters, on 2 November 1916, with a letter of warning from the family. In it they lamented that the Empress 'has been led astray thanks to the malicious and utter deception of the people who surround her ... If you are not competent to remove this influence from her, then at least guard against those constant interferences and whisperings, through your beloved spouse.'

Nicholas could think of nothing better to do than send the letter to Alexandra, provoking the inevitable furious response. She tried to depict the criticisms as a family squabble, complaining that Nikolai Mikhailovich 'has always hated & spoken badly of me since 22 years ... during war & at such a time to crawl behind yr Mama and Sisters & not stick up bravely ... for his Emperor's wife -- is loathsome & treachery.' At the very least, she advised, Nicholas should have interrupted him and threatened to send him to Siberia if he ever touched on her person again. The Grand Duke thus joined a far from short list of Duma deputies whom the Empress had over the years expressed a wish to exile to Siberia -- if they could not all be hanged!

Those fearful for the fate of the Romanov dynasty saw no recourse but to take matters into their own hands. On the night of 16 December 1916 Rasputin was invited to the Petrograd mansion of Prince Felix Yusupov, who had married the Tsar's niece, Irina, for an evening supper and entertainment. Waiting for him were five conspirators, including Purishkevich and a first cousin of the Tsar, the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich. In the course of the revels, Rasputin was poisoned, shot, bludgeoned and dumped under the ice of the frozen Neva, where he drowned. French historian Marc Ferro has accurately called him 'a force of nature and a man of formidable temperament'. He was also a prophet to the last.

During the final month of his life Rasputin wrote a testament, in which he warned Nicholas: 'Tsar of the land of Russia, if you hear the sound of the bell which will tell you that Grigory has been killed, you must know this: if it was your relations who have wrought my death then no one of your family, that is to say, none of your children or relations will remain alive for more than two years. They will be killed by the Russian people.'

The imperial tutor Pierre Gilliard recalled his first glimpse of the Empress after she had received word of Rasputin's murder: 'Her anxious face betrayed, in spite of herself, the force of her suffering. Her grief was boundless. Her faith was shattered, they had killed the one who alone could save her son. Without him there loomed the possibility of any misfortune, any catastrophe. And there began the expectation, that agonizing expectation of the inescapable misfortune!'

The murder of Rasputin did nothing to restore Russia's failing military fortunes, nor did it endear Nicholas to his relatives. Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich and Felix Yusupov were exiled from the capital, and Nicholas dispatched a collective letter to the other members of the family: 'No one has the right to engage in murder, and I know that many have uneasy consciences, since Dmitry Pavlovich was not the only one mixed up in this.' Nonetheless, the Romanov family made one last effort to alert the rulers of the danger to the throne. They now decided to approach Alexandra directly and to persuade her to see reason. The Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhailovich wrote to her with a request to see her alone, face to face.

On 10 February Aleksandr Mikhailovich arrived for his appointment with Alexandra, only to find that Nicholas was present. It was discomforting, he admitted, to reproach the Empress for leading the Tsar into the abyss when Nicholas himself was there. However, the Grand Duke did not mince words. When the Empress objected that his reproaches were exaggerated and that the people loved the Tsar, the Grand Duke demurred.

'The nation is loyal to the Tsar, but the nation is discontented because of the influence which Rasputin exercised,' he said. 'Nobody knows better than me how much you love Niki, but I still must recognize that your meddling in affairs of state is harming the prestige of Niki and popular ideas about the Autocrat. I have been a true friend to you for 24 years, Alix. I am still your true friend, but on that basis I want to make you understand that every class of the Russian population is hostile to our politics. You have a wonderful family. Why don't you concentrate your energies on the things that give your soul peace and harmony? Leave affairs of state to your husband!'

During the exchange of bitter words that followed between the Empress and the Grand Duke, the Tsar sat apart, silently smoking a cigarette. Alexandra's parting words to Aleksandr Mikhailovich were, 'You will see that I was right.' Before the end of the month, Russia would be in revolution.

After unpleasant scenes of this nature, Nicholas was always glad to return to the front, where there was no squabbling over who was the real enemy. As he reported from there on the day of his arrival, 'no ministers, no problems'. Still ringing loudly in his ears were the Empress's last words of advice: 'Dear One, be firm, show a strong hand, which is what Russians need. Let them feel your fist. They beg for it themselves -- so many people have said to me not long ago -- we need the whip. This is strange, but that is the slavic nature.'

Once again the Empress had misread the patience of the Russian people. Sitting in the comfort of Tsarskoe Selo, it was difficult to appreciate life on the streets of Petrograd in late February. This was the worst part of the Russian winter -- not the beautiful fury of the first snowfall, but the piles of dirty, melting snow, with rotten ice underfoot. The meagre stores of food put up by householders were nearly exhausted, even without the added rigours of wartime shortages. Weary workers had to queue for hours in the cold and dark for their daily bread.

In the middle of February the district commander of Petrograd ordered bread rationing in order to protect the city's dwindling stores of flour. Bakeries began to sell out early, and this provoked disorder among those who had queued unsuccessfully for bread. On 23 February (8 March on the Western calendar) the socialist festival of International Women's Day was held, and a small demonstration by women was swollen by groups of striking workers. The protests continued on the following day, and then the next.

In general the demonstrations were good-natured, with little violence and much fraternization between soldiers and the crowd. On 10 March, however, the commander of the capital's military district, General S. S. Khabalov, received a no-nonsense telegram from the Tsar: 'I command you to suppress from tomorrow all disorders on the streets of the capital, which are impermissible at a time when the fatherland is carrying on a difficult war with Germany.'

The obedient Khabalov ordered the troops to employ force to dispel demonstrators. On the following day they opened fire, and civilian casualties began to mount. The most serious incident occurred when the Volinsky Regiment aimed machine guns into a crowd and killed 40 people. The soldiers were deeply disturbed by what they had done and spent the night in excited debate and resolved to disobey any instruction to fire at civilians. Challenged by their commanding officer the next morning, they murdered him before deserting their barracks and exhorting other regiments to follow them. Many did. The moment of true revolution had arrived: the tsarist regime could no longer depend on its armed might to maintain internal order in a national crisis.

The leaders of the Duma, meeting in the capital, were at a loss over what to do. Many deputies wished an end to Nicholas's leadership, but they were not eager to unleash a popular rebellion. As the situation in the streets worsened, the president of the Duma, M. V. Rodzianko, sent a series of panicked telegrams to the Tsar at military headquarters, urging him to make political concessions before the situation got completely out of hand. Nicholas dismissed this note of alarm, complaining to an aide that 'this fat Rodzianko has written me some nonsense, to which I will not even reply.'

Subsequent messages narrowed the Tsar's options. They announced that the city was entirely at the mercy of rebellious soldiers and workers, that troops sent to disperse them had deserted and that an emergency civilian government was being formed. Nicholas's first thought was to return to the capital, not only to quell the disorder but also because his family were trapped at suburban Tsarskoe Selo, just outside Petrograd. The imperial train was diverted by striking railway workers and left stranded at the provincial town of Pskov. If the revolution were to be suppressed, Nicholas would have to depend upon the loyalty of the army at the front. The chief of staff, General Alekseev, canvassed all the front-line commanders by telegraph. The answers trickled in throughout the afternoon of 15 March. A clear consensus emerged: the loyalty of the troops could not be counted on. To save the dynasty and the nation, Nicholas should abdicate.

Stunned by this desertion of his beloved army, Nicholas immediately drafted a telegram to Alekseev: 'In the name of the welfare, tranquillity and salvation of my warmly beloved Russia, I am ready to abdicate from the throne in favour of my son. I request all to serve him truly and faithfully.' Before the message could be sent, however, word arrived from Petrograd that the Duma was sending a delegation to call upon the Tsar. The telegram was recalled, and Nicholas sat down to await the Duma messengers who, themselves delayed by striking rail workers, arrived at ten in the evening. They were Aleksandr Guchkov, a leading Duma moderate, and the prominent conservative deputy, V. V. Shulgin.

They presented Nicholas with a bleak picture: revolution was growing, and only abdication could restore national unity and the prestige of the dynasty. Nicholas had already accepted the necessity of abdication, but since the morning's telegram he had pondered the implications of abdicating in favour of Alexei. The family would be broken up, the under-age Tsarevich placed in the hands of a regency, and his health problems would become general knowledge. Nicholas withdrew to consult with the court physician, Dr Fedorov, who assured him that Alexei's condition was incurable. The Tsar returned to the Duma representatives to announce that he would indeed abdicate -- but in favour of his brother, the Grand Duke Mikhail Aleksandrovich, rather than Alexei.

The first Romanov Tsar of Russia, proclaimed in 1613, was a Mikhail, and so was the last. On the morning of 16 March a delegation of Duma deputies called on the heir-apparent with grim news. So unpopular had the monarch become, that they could not guarantee his physical safety should he take the throne. Mikhail preferred discretion to valour and abjured the throne until it might be offered to him by a constitutional convention. This was never to come. Instead, the Tsar for a day would be murdered by a revolutionary gang in the wilds of Siberia, within days of the assassination of Nicholas himself.

A few miles away from where Mikhail was rejecting the Romanov heritage sat the one person in Russia who could be counted upon to demand that Nicholas should not relinquish his throne so easily, the Empress Alexandra. But the Empress found herself powerless: all her children had been struck down by a serious case of measles, and as she rushed about their darkened sickroom, she learnt that communications with Nicholas had been cut. The Tsar's 'eyes and ears' were blind and deaf. She could not give him the exhortation and advice that would be necessary to strengthen his will. Recalling the crisis of 1905, and Nicholas's fateful decision to sign a constitution, she drafted a frantic message to him and had it sewn into the uniforms of two Cossack messengers. 'Clearly they don't want to let you see me so above all you must not sign any paper, constitution or other such horror -- but you are alone, without your army, caught like a mouse in a trap, what can you do?'

The Duma delegates who negotiated Nicholas's abdication had assured him that they spoke for the whole nation. Upon their return to the capital, they found many in the street who were ready to challenge their mandate. 'Who elected you?' was the shout of angry workers. Indeed, the elective Duma, created by Witte in 1905, had become increasingly undemocratic in the years before the war, as the government tampered with the electoral laws in order to secure a workable majority. The Duma was thus dominated by wealthy landowners, millionaire industrialists, liberal professionals and a smattering of peasants, but with enough representatives from the political extremes to keep the pot boiling. This body, based on a limited franchise, could hardly pretend to speak for all Russia. As revolutionary sentiment grew increasingly extreme, the more progressive members of the Duma could do no more than proclaim themselves to be a temporary, Provisional Government, which would hold power only until an elective constitutional assembly was convoked to map out Russia's political future.

Many in the crowd were unprepared to wait so long, as they knew they had a model close at hand. In 1905 the leaders of the revolutionary movement had succeeded in calling a general strike that paralysed the nation and brought about political concessions. A strike committee or Soviet had been founded, known as the St Petersburg Soviet of Workers' Deputies. It was dominated by revolutionary activists. Similar Soviets had sprung up all over Russia, to provide leadership for local strikes. These bodies were as democratic as could be: workers sent their representatives daily to the Soviet itself, which made its decisions by majority vote. While the 'gentlemen' of the Duma were meeting in the Tauride Palace in Petrograd to devise their Provisional Government, workers' groups were reinventing the Soviet, now rechristened the Petrograd Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Deputies.

In theory the Petrograd Soviet admitted one deputy for every 2000 workers or soldiers. In fact it grew into a huge, amorphous body, swelling to over 3000 deputies. Every day brought another deputy from some corner of the front or the empire, clutching his mandate in his hand. The practical work of the Soviet, as opposed to its noisy debates, passed into the hands of an executive committee, drawn from socialist activists. Since the old tsarist administration in the country, like the monarch itself, was discredited, similar Soviets sprang up throughout the country, laying claim to the reins of local government. All shades of opinion, from moderate to socialist and anarchist, were represented in the Soviets. As the months passed, however, the consensual view tended to become more radical.

The Petrograd Soviet did not actually seize power, but constituted itself as a revolutionary watchdog to ensure that the 'bourgeois' Provisional Government did nothing to infringe the newly won liberties of the common people. There emerged a system of Dual Power -- on the one hand the Provisional Government, in power but without authority, and on the other the Soviet, with authority but with no elective power. Under pressure from the Soviet, the Provisional Government was pushed continually to the left. As assorted liberal politicians were swept away, the central figure in the Provisional Government was a representative from the Soviet, the moderate socialist Aleksandr Kerensky. Kerensky dominated the government from his post as Minister for Justice and became Prime Minister on 21 July 1917.

Table of Contents

Genealogy of Nicholas and Alexandraviii
Map of the Russian Empire in 1917x
PREFACE Dick's Party1
CHAPTER ONE The Romanovs' Last Journey5
CHAPTER TWO Delivering the Baggage30
CHAPTER THREE 'Not Easy to Kill'48
CHAPTER FOUR 'Lies of the Capitalist Press'64
CHAPTER FIVE The Poor Invalid87
CHAPTER SIX No Mere Adventuress114
CHAPTER SEVEN Religious Fervour142
CHAPTER EIGHT First-Finders165
CHAPTER NINE 'Our Kennedy Assassination'181
CHAPTER TEN 'How Shall I Tell You Who I Am?'204
CHAPTER ELEVEN Criminal Case No. 18: 123666-93231
Select Bibliography236

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