On 5 August 1873, the wife of second captain of infantry, Ivan Matveyevich Spiridovitch, commander of a border guard squad, gave birth, in the small town of Kemi, located in the municipality of Arkhangelsk, on the distant, isolated coast of the White Sea, to a son named Alexander, who is the author of these memoirs.
The Spiridovitch family, recorded in the sixth section of the geneaological book of nobility from the Smolensk government, is, according to authentic documents, traced back to Ivan Avstafier Spiridovitch, who, in 1668, under the reign of Tsar Alexis Mikhailovich, had been recognised as "the owner of land and farms and estates in the villages of Shumov, Rubtsov and others".
Such were the proper terms of a Senate ukase, which my father kept religiously, with many other family papers, in one of these large tin cases, in which the sailors from this northern coastal region usually kept their documents.
A practical and punctual man, my father announced my birth to the assembly of delegates of Smolensk nobility, and had a Certificate of Nobility issued in my name, which he added to the other family papers locked, securly, in the tin case.
I was raised at home, under the guidance of my father. He was a tall man, with a severe appearance, a heavy, bushy beard, who had learned life the hard way in the military at the time of Emperor Nicolas I. Belief in God, love for the Tsar and for Mother Russia, a belief and love which formed an inseparable part of his very soul, were the guiding principles of his life, the ideal which inspired all his actions.
There is nothing greater than God and the Tsar. 'For faith, for the Tsar and for Mother Russia', this was his one and only belief, conforming to this belief formed the basis of every aspect of his life.
These were the principles of our father; principles which he instilled in us and passed on to us, and which were completely shared by our mother, a good woman, who lived only for her family.
And we children prayed ardently to God and loved our Tsar. Although my father loved me a great deal, the cane, as was common at the time, also played a major part in my education.
Any little disobedience towards older people 'and I had four older sisters', lack of enthusiasm or application, and I would often find myself on the wrong end of cruel and painful canings.
At the age of ten, as the son of an officer, I was given a State scholarship to the Cadet Corps of Count Arakcheyev in Nizhny Novgorod, where I remained for seven years, and from where I, like all my comrades, left with the status of deputy non-commissioned officer, to immediately join the First Infantry Military College at Pavlovskoye, in St. Petersburg.
At the military college, we completed military service as soldiers for two years. Rationally, systematically, and with extreme thoroughness, they set about making us into good officers.
It was while I was studying at the military college that I was able to see Emperor Alexander III for the first time.
It was during the winter of 1891, at a parade in front of the Winter Palace. We started preparing ourselves for this parade early, wrapping our feet in newspaper to keep them warm, shining our boots, polishing our buttons and plating.
There we were, finally, at the square in front of the Palace. Our college occupying the right flank of the troops, the right shoulder turned towards the Palace. The music announces the arrival of the Emperor. We see a dazzling group approach. At the head of this group marches the Emperor, standing tall and powerful. He is one with his superb mount. There before us, was the force of Russia, as if, the great powerful Russia itself.
The Tsar is just a few steps away from us. From his clear, bright eyes, he looks us straight in the eye, flashing us a priceless flattering smile. We’re almost breathless with excitement.
Then we hear: 'Zdravstvuitye Pavlovtsi!'
We respond enthusiastically, and a resounding 'hurrah!' emerges from our chests. The music starts playing: 'God, protect the Tsar,' We sing, beside ourselves with pride, until we lose our voice. Our 'cheers' are adopted by the other troops, and are echoed in successive waves right around the square. The sounds of the hymn come from all sides, everything melts into a single powerful, joyous sound, an indescribable fervour takes hold of us, we’re ready for anything; the Emperor could have asked us anything, ordered us to throw ourselves into the Neva, and we would have obeyed without hesitation, without giving it a second thought.
We were able to see the Emperor close up again at Krasnoye Selo. He arrived in front of the college during the battalion exercises, on the parade ground.
Powerful, dressed in a frock coat uniform with scarf and aiguillettes, his helmet on his head, and wearing a St George’s cross around his neck, he walked slowly towards us. The battalion was paralysed, as if transfixed.
After greeting us, His Majesty watched our exercises for a while, then thanked the battalion and, approaching our party, asked, 'And where is my sergeant?'
Immediately, the sergeant of His Majesty’s company left the ranks and hurried over to the Emperor, stopping still like a statue. The Emperor greeted him, asked him if he had parents, where they were, which regiment he was going to join, and wished him success.
All this took place just a few steps away from me. My eyes were fixed on the Emperor. I remember the scarf 'belt' he was wearing as if it was still right before me. It wrapped around his powerful sides, which seemed to want to break its grasp.
What a picture of health, what a giant force he appeared to be! After his conversation with the sergeant, the Emperor moved away, saying that he wished to see us parade before him singing. Our battalion immediately started parading before His Majesty in martial step, singing this song,
'Wearing gold cap, the glorious Russian giant, another giant was waiting, who must have come from a foreign and distant land.'
The ground shook under the steps of the battalion parading before the Emperor.
'Spasibo, Pavlovtsi!' we heard behind us. We stopped singing, and, in a voice echoing across the military field, we responded, 'Radi staratsa, Your Imperial Majesty!'
The singing resumed, even more enthusiastic than before. I think that, on that day, there was no one happier than us at the Krasnoye-Selo camp.
I finished my studies on 7 August 1893 and was appointed Sub-Lieutenant of the 105th infantry regiment, known as Orenburg, stationed at Vilna. This is where my old mother lived, and is also where my father, who had recently retired with the rank of lieutenant-colonel, passed away. He was not able to live long enough to see his favourite son wear officer epaulettes.
I stayed in the regiment for seven years.
It was at the time when Russia, which had lost the peace-making Tsar Alexander III in 1894, was going through the peaceful times of the Franco-Russian Alliance it had concluded, and which had been devised by the brilliant reformer of Russia, Peter the Great.
The Russian army continued to fraternise the two armies, a task which had been inaugurated in Cronstadt and Toulon.
From towns furthest away from Russia, the Russian regiments sent telegrams, photographs and presents to the French regiments forming part of the same arms, or bearing the same numbers as them.
Our 108th infantry regiment sent the 105th French infantry regiment an enormous photograph, measuring two metres long and one and a half metres wide, in a golden frame, with red ornaments, the colour of the regiment. A large two-headed eagle sat atop the group; the flag-bearer, the handsomest soldier in the regiment, kept to the left with his flag, the gallant sergeant of the 1st company matched him on the right.
The rest of us young officers felt deeply moved when it was time to send the photograph to France; while our commander, Colonel Baikov, rushed everyone, impatiently demanding the letter addressed to the colonel of the French regiment be written as elegantly yet warmly as possible. This was how the friendship between the two peoples was slowly but surely formed.
But serving the regiment did not satisfy young people. The more enterprising among us, the more energetic ones, who did not allow themselves to be taken over by provincial life, with its few interests, joined military academies, became instructors in the Cadet Corps, moving on to the Corps of Gendarmes or the border guard corps.
I also had a vague desire to leave. I started preparing for the Military Law Academy exam, while still working towards joining the Special Corps of Gendarmes.
To go from an ordinary regiment to the Corps of Gendarmes, you had to meet several requirements which were often not related; you must have noble blood, must have completed studies at a military college, and graduated from the college with a good rank, be Orthodox, have no debts, and must have served in a regiment for at least six years.
Anyone who met all these conditions had to sit a preliminary examination before the Chief of Staff of the Corps of Gendarmes; after which he was placed on a list of candidates and, when called, undertake special courses in St. Petersburg and sit a graduation exam.
The officer who successfully passed the graduation examination was assigned, by virtue of an imperial ukase, to the Corps of Gendarmes.
As I satisfied all the formal conditions required, and after taking the special courses and successfully passing the graduation exam, I was assigned to the Corps of Gendarmes on 31 December 1899, and was appointed in Moscow, at the disposal of the head of the police force, General D. Trepov, who also had control over the Moscow Okhrana Section.
The Corps of Gendarmes was constituted under Emperor Nicolas I and at the initiative of the Adjutant-General Benkendorf in 1826. Its founders believed it needed to have the following characteristics: combat abuse in all areas of administration, ensure order and peace in the State, monitor the behaviour of young students, and make sure it remains moral, seek out poor people and orphans needing material aid.
These were the tasks of the Corps of Gendarmes, according to the instructions of its first chief, Count Benkendorf.
The Corps of Gendarmes represents the eyes and ears of the emperor. The public’s wellbeing is its aim. A white handkerchief to wipe away tears symbolises its tasks. At least that’s how they were defined at the time.
'In the mind of the Emperor,' says historian Schilder, 'the best families and all those close to the throne had to form the head of this institution and co-operate to destroy evil.'
Under the reign of Emperor Alexander II, the officers of the Corps of Gendarmes had been in charge of investigating crimes against the State such as examining magistrates, under the surveillance of the public prosecutors, and in strict compliance with the new legal statutes.
Under Emperor Nicolas II, when I was assigned to the Corps of Gendarmes, it was made up of generals, senior and junior officers and sub-officers.
Part of the Corps was divided into brigades, which, distributed between the governments, were in charge, as in times past, of monitoring the population, occasionally engaging in political investigations, but, above all, in preliminary investigations under the surveillance of the public prosecutors, and administrative investigations.
Another part was divided into as many brigades as there were railway networks. These brigades were in charge of training the police, generally and politically, in their assigned railway sectors.
Finally, one part of the officers of the Corps of Gendarmes, the one with the fewest members, was assigned to the sections of the Okhrana. The Corps of Gendarmes initially only had jurisdiction over three Okhrana sections, those of St. Petersburg, Moscow and Warsaw.
The number of sections was later increased. The Okhrana sections were in charge of conducting political investigations, uncovering revolutionary organisations and isolated revolutionaries, and arresting the latter. After making arrests, the Okhrana section sent the arrested persons, with all evidence supporting their arrest, to the government gendarme brigade, which immediately initiated an enquiry under the surveillance of the public prosecutor; if it was an insignificant matter, and in the absence of indisputable evidence, the Okhrana section would take charge of the enquiry itself, and settle the matter administratively. However, this right was only held by the Okhrana sections of the three capitals, St. Petersburg, Moscow and Warsaw.
The Minister of the Interior was the supreme head of the Corps of Gendarmes. This was led by a general. Internal affairs and those relating to the railways were under the charge of the chief of staff of the Corps, while the investigation and surveillance services were subordinate to the police department.
In summary, this was the structure of the political police in Russia under the last reign. This was the 'fameuse et terrible Okhrana' which, thanks to the propaganda of our socialists, had so many legendary stories written about it across Europe.
Out of the three main tasks of the gendarmerie I have just described, surveillance and enquiries, railway policing, political investigations, it was the last to which I was drawn, and which attracted me the most. I saw it as a lively, active service, a combat service; as soon as I passed my graduation exam, I accepted a vacant position in the section of the Moscow Okhrana, which had quite a long title, 'Section for maintaining safety and social order in Moscow.'
Heading the Moscow Okhrana Section at the time was the famous Zubatov, an expert in political investigations, and also known for his attempts to legally establish professional workers’ associations. After being initiated, under his direction, into political investigations, I was appointed head of the Kiev Okhrana Section in 1902. At that time, Kiev was the main centre of activity of the combat organisation of the socialist-revolutionary party. It was from Kiev that the founder and dictator of the organisation, Grigory Gershuni, led the terrorist movement.
It was on his orders that the Minister of the Interior, Sipiagin, was killed, that an attack was made on the governor of Kharkov, Prince Obolenski, that attacks were prepared against the chief prosecutor of St. Synod, Pobiedonostev, and against the prefect of St. Petersburg, Kleigels, and that the governor of Ufa, Bogdanovich, was killed.
It was in the area surrounding Kiev that the grandmother of the revolution, Catherine Breshko-Breshkovskaya, often hid.
The new Minister of the Interior, Plehve, urged for the discovery and arrest of Gershuni.
After long and tiring investigations, our Kiev Okhrana Section was finally able to track down Gershuni, and, on the 13th ofMay 1903, arrest him at Kiev railway station while on his way abroad from Ufa, where he had committed his last murder.
Our Okhrana section was well recompensed. And I, who was just 29, was appointed Lieutenant-Colonel.
In Kiev, we continued to efficiently combat revolutionary organisations. But in May 1905, the social-democrat Bolshevik, Pieter Rudenko, obeying orders from the local centre, lay in wait for me on the street and, firing several ‘Browning shots’ at me, wounded me with two bullets in the chest and in my leg.
I had to leave the service and go abroad for four months. Once recovered from my injuries, I finally gave up the political investigation service.
When I returned to St. Petersburg in the winter of 1905, the first revolution was in full swing.
It was then that the new Palace commander, General D. Trepov, on whose orders I had served in Moscow, and who wanted to provide the emperor’s security service with the best possible organisation, offered me the newly created position of head of the emperor’s secret 'as it was initially known' personal guard. My wildest dream had thus come true. I was in charge of the emperor’s guard!
The experience I had gained in political investigation was going to be extremely useful to me. All the knowledge I had regarding the revolutionary circles, their members, their processes and habits, would, from then on, serve me in my new role, showing me how and against whom I had to secure the emperor’s guard.
I performed my new functions for ten and a half years.
For ten and a half years, aided by my detachment, I secured the emperor’s guard on a daily basis, accompanying His Majesty on all his trips, both within Russia and abroad, and even his trips to the Mohilev headquarters during the war.
I was promoted to Colonel and then Major General, and decorated with the star and ribbon of the Order of St. Stanislas, the Officer’s Cross of the Legion of Honour, the Commander’s Cross of the British Order of Victoria, etc.
In August 1916, the Emperor decided 'deigned' to appoint me prefect and commander of the Yalta (Crimea) garrison, which was home to the imperial properties of Livadia, Oreanda, Massandra and others.
The Minister of the Interior had suggested to the Palace commander to nominate me for the prefect’s position in Rostov. On the report sent to him regarding this, the emperor had responded, “Write to the minister and tell him that I will not let Spiridovich go to Rostov and that I will not appoint any prefect other than him in Yalta.” Before my departure, the emperor deigned to grant me a long audience, thanked me for my services, and presented me with a large photograph of himself.
Around 20 February 1917, I was called by the minister and had to go from Yalta to St. Petersburg to report to the emperor. I was told to wait for the Emperor to return from Mohilev, where the headquarters were located.
The revolution had broken out in the meantime, and, on the evening of 2 March 1917, I was arrested in St. Petersburg on the personal orders of M. Kerenski, and was locked up at the Trubetskoy bastion of the Peter and Paul fortress without any explanation. I was kept in a cell in the fortress for six months, after which I was transferred to the surgical clinic of the 'Kresty' prison, where I was also locked up in a cell. On 2 October 1917, however, following a misunderstanding, I was set free.
Three weeks later, the third revolution broke out, the October revolution, the Bolshevik revolution. I had to hide.
In January 1918, I was arrested by the Bolsheviks, but released soon after.
During the summer of that same year, I was included on list No. 19, which was the one for people who had to be arrested and shot. Thanks to my wife, I was able to escape from St. Petersburg with her, cross the border, and, after various adventures and incidents, we arrived in Paris in 1920, where we have been living permanently since then.
That is a brief summary of my past. In the pages which follow, I tell of what I experienced and felt, what I saw and heard during the many years in which I had the great pleasure of securing the guard of the noblest of monarchs, my Emperor Nicolas Alexandrovich and his very majestic family.
