BIRTH OF GRAND DUCHESS OLGA
The uncomfortable winter which followed upon the marriage of the
Czar came at last to an end without his young bride having been much
seen in public. The ladies prominent in St. Petersburg society were
presented to her during a great reception which she held in the Winter
Palace, but this presentation consisted simply in their passing before
her with a curtsey, whilst her Mistress of the Robes, the Princess
Galitzyne, whispered their names into her ear. She spoke to no one,
and of course no one spoke to her, and for the influence that this
reception had upon her relations with that society over which she had
to preside, it might just as well never have taken place. There were,
it is true, a few old ladies whose husbands either had been, or still
were, in high official positions, who were received by the Empress
in private audience, but these interviews were generally of short
duration, and consisted in the exchange of a few banalities in the way
of conversation. The Empress did not speak French well, and English at
that time was not the fashionable language of the upper class, as is
the case at present. Ill-natured people commented on the mistakes made
by the young Sovereign in her use of the French idiom, and ridiculed
them. She became aware of the fact, and it hurt her deeply, and added
to the natural diffidence of her character. In those early days of her
married life, Alexandra Feodorovna was striving still for popularity,
but doing it in a clumsy, mistaken manner. She felt afraid of being
called pro-German, and exaggerated in consequence her manifestations
of amiability in regard to everybody and everything that was connected
with France, to such an extent that she was accused of want of
frankness, not to use a more emphatic word. It was the same thing with
her sympathies for the autocratic régime. At the time of her marriage,
people hoped that her influence over her husband would result in his
granting to Russia that constitution which everybody had been sighing
for, for years. But the Imperial family, from the very first hour of
her arrival in the country, had repeated to her that it was her duty
to uphold the principles of that autocracy which Alexander III. had
so successfully maintained during the whole time of his reign. She
accepted this bad advice, and, in her dread of being thought adverse
to it, she applied herself to persuade the Czar that he ought to make
some public declaration of his intentions to govern according to the
principles that had inspired his deceased father. She partly succeeded,
but the attempt was not a happy one, because the famous speech of
Nicholas II. to the zemstvos, where he affirmed his resolve to govern
despotically, and characterised as senseless dreams the aspirations of
his people, contributed more than anything else to make him, together
with his consort, the most hated and unpopular Sovereign Russia had
ever known.
[Illustration: _International Film Service_
WINTER PALACE, PETROGRAD]
The first winter which saw the Princess Alix transformed into the
Empress of All the Russias was, therefore, not precisely what can be
called a happy one. In summer the Court went as usual to Peterhof, and
the alterations which by this time had begun to be made in the Czarskoi
Selo Palace were hastened, because the first accouchement of the young
Empress was expected in November, and it had been decided that the
expected family event, so anxiously looked forward to, should take
place there.
Alexander Feodorovna herself superintended these alterations. Under
her care the old building which had been the favourite residence of
Alexander II. and of his consort, that other Hessian Princess who,
however, had been both liked and respected by her subjects, was
completely transformed. Splendour was banished from it, but the whole
place was furnished and arranged in the style of an English cottage,
with chintz hangings, plenty of flowers of which the Empress was
inordinately fond, and a lot of nick-nacks and photographs that gave
it quite a homelike look. Alexandra had admirable taste in all that
concerned the inner arrangements of her apartments, and she transformed
the old residence of the Russian Czars into a lovely country house,
such as one finds in old England or in France. But her ideas in regard
to furniture and curtains and general interior ornamentation of the
rooms destined for her private use differed so entirely from the
accepted Russian notions on the subject that they came to be discussed,
not only ill-naturedly, but also disagreeably. She had consulted no
one, and had made no secret of her disapproval of certain things that
had been done without her consent, speaking about them with an acrimony
she would have done better, for her future peace, to have avoided.
The Emperor, however, was charmed with all that she had done, and
delighted at the way in which she had arranged their new residence,
to which they moved early in the month of October, 1895. The Empress
at once organised her existence upon lines to which she remained more
or less faithful all through her reign. She used to rise early, and
never failed to breakfast with the Emperor and to accompany him in
the walk which he liked to take every morning before settling down to
the business of the day. They used to go, in all kinds of weather,
for long rambles in the park which surrounded the Palace of Czarskoi
Selo, Alexandra Feodorovna dressed in a short sable jacket and a
velvet skirt, which she changed for a more elaborate garment when she
returned home. She disliked dressing gowns, and the first one I ever
saw her wear was during an illness which attacked the Grand Duchess
Olga, in the latter’s early childhood, when her mother sat up with her
at night, and was persuaded to exchange her tight garments for more
comfortable ones.
At eleven o’clock, the Empress’ private secretary made his appearance,
and brought to her the numerous correspondence that had to be handled.
They worked together for an hour or so, and Alexandra more than once
tried to interest herself in public charities and to gather knowledge
in regard to the various educational establishments in the Empire.
These, however, were under the special patronage of the Empress
Dowager, who did not brook any interference in the matter, and who
applied herself to keep her daughter-in-law quite outside of it. This
was a great misfortune because it deprived the latter of considerable
interest in her existence, and almost compelled her to spend her time
in frivolous occupations for which she did not care. Lunch was served
at two o’clock, and was generally a simple meal, though an abundant
one, to which guests were seldom invited. After it was over the Emperor
remained for an hour with his wife, chatting about the various news of
the day, and then they both went out for another walk. Tea was brought
to the Empress at five o’clock on a tray in her own room, and she
generally swallowed it in a gulp, without even looking at the cup in
which it was contained. She was fond of needlework, and amused herself
by making lovely little lace garments for her expected baby. She did
not care for the society of her ladies in waiting, whom sometimes
she did not see for weeks at a time, during those early days of her
marriage. Later on, however, on account of the reproaches that were
showered upon her for this neglect of her personal attendants, she had
them dine with her and the Emperor on Sundays, and this custom lasted
until the Revolution, when it fell into disuse, together with so many
other things.
After dinner the Empress used to ensconce herself in a large armchair
by the open fire, and again take up her needlework, whilst the Emperor
read aloud to her. He was very fond of reading, and read extremely
well. He liked historical books better than any others, and followed
with considerable interest the different English and French reviews
which were regularly sent to him. This lasted until eleven o’clock
or thereabouts, when Nicholas II. repaired to his study for a couple
of hours’ work, whilst the Empress began to undress. I was generally
present at this operation, which was performed by the two maids
on duty, who were changed every day. Alexandra had a profusion of
beautiful, silky hair, and though she was not so capricious about its
treatment as the poor Empress Elizabeth of Austria, yet she liked to
have it brushed for half an hour or so, after which it was tightly
plaited, and bound with silk ribbon matching the one which trimmed
her nightgowns. These were of the finest linen or batiste, profusely
ornamented with Valenciennes or Mechlin lace. The dressing jackets
and peignoirs of the Empress were generally made out of muslin over
silk, with insertions of Brussels net. She was excessively fond of
beautiful lingerie, and owned to me one day that one of her greatest
pleasures after her marriage had been the possibility of being at last
able to indulge in her weakness for it. Her bed sheets were absolutely
magnificent, and changed every day, the lace which trimmed them being
carefully selected to match that on her night dresses. Madame Barrauld,
the great French lingère, who had made the trousseaux of all the smart
young girls of St. Petersburg society, was summoned about once a week
to Czarskoi Selo, to receive the orders of the Empress in regard to
her lingerie, and that of her daughters when these were born.
In regard to dresses, Alexandra Feodorovna had about fifty for each
season, without counting the extras. She was very fond of white gowns,
notwithstanding the fact that these did not suit her. But she had been
told that it was a Russian custom to wear white garments for every
great festival, and she had exaggerated it to such an extent that St.
Petersburg society, always on the alert to criticise its new Sovereign,
had made fun of it, and its smart leaders of fashion had affected to
put on coloured, and even dark dresses, on occasions when previously
they would never have thought of so doing. She was supposed to have
no taste in her manner of attiring herself, and consequently it was
considered the thing to do exactly the contrary of what she was doing,
in that matter at least.
The Imperial family did not often come to Czarskoi Selo. At first,
the Grand Duchesses, aunts of the Empress, had attempted to see her,
without being summoned to her presence; but they had soon found out
that between them and her there existed a barrier which it was out of
their power to remove. Alexandra Feodorovna was always civil to them,
always received them with a smile, but she nevertheless contrived to
make them feel that they bored her, and that she did not care for
their visits. The Empress Dowager also had tried to break through her
daughter-in-law’s reserve, but though the latter had avoided hurting
her by showing too openly her dislike to having her solitude intruded
upon, yet her stiffness had not encouraged Marie Feodorovna to repeat
the attempt of considering her son’s home as her own, and of coming and
going in and out of it at her will and pleasure.
All this caused the conduct of the young wife of Nicholas II. to be
severely criticised from almost the first days of her arrival in
Russia. Unfortunately for her the choice that had been made of the
members of her household had not been a happy one. Her Mistress of the
Robes, the Princess Galitzyne, was an intriguing woman, who thought
only of her own advantages and the possibility of turning to her use
and benefit the high position in which she found herself placed. Her
maids of honour were very nice girls, but mostly nonentities, and, if
the truth need be told, her husband was not the man capable of being
for her the guide she required during those first days of her married
life. The only person whom she saw intimately, and who came in time to
acquire a considerable influence over her, was her sister, the Grand
Duchess Elizabeth, of whom she had stood more or less in awe during
her girlish days, and who abused the privileges due to her as the
Empress’ senior. And the Grand Duchess was not a wise mentor for the
impressionable, impulsive woman who had been raised by destiny to the
throne of All the Russias.
With her servants Alexandra Feodorovna never spoke, except in reference
to questions concerning their duties. She used to have half an hour’s
conversation with me in the morning and evening, in regard to matters
concerning her dresses or jewels, and gave me her instructions as to
what she required to be done in regard to them. But it was only after a
number of years, and after I had helped her nurse the young Princesses
during an attack of scarlet fever, that the Empress began to talk with
me of domestic matters, and of different other things which worried
her. She hated familiarity, and firmly believed that it was part of her
duties to keep people at a distance. And yet what a kind heart she had!
It was sufficient for her to know that any misfortune had befallen one
of her attendants or servants, to show them all the sympathy with which
her soul was full. But in normal times she maintained an attitude of
reserve that was always misunderstood, and for which she was more than
once bitterly reproached.
[Illustration:
_Paul Thompson_
ALEXANDER HALL IN THE KREMLIN AT MOSCOW]
During that month of November which saw the first anniversary of the
Czar’s marriage the Court was expecting the birth of the first child
of the Imperial pair. All had made up their minds that it was going
to be a son, an heir to the vast estates and to the throne of the
Romanoffs. The thought that it might be a girl had never crossed the
mind either of the nation or of the sovereigns themselves. Preparations
without number had been made for the arrival into the world of that
much-longed-for boy, and for some days no one had slept in the Palace
of Czarskoi Selo. At last the doctors, who for weeks had not left
the Imperial residence, were summoned to the bedside of Alexandra
Feodorovna. The poor woman had a very hard time, and for long hours
her life trembled in the balance, whilst every hope of seeing the
child born alive had almost disappeared. Great was the joy, therefore,
when its cry was heard for the first time, a joy, however, that was
turned into an intense disappointment when it was announced that the
baby was nothing but a poor little girl, tiny and delicate; a little
girl whom no one wanted, and whom no one was prepared to like, except
the mother, who took it to her heart with all the tenderness which,
though restrained, formed one of the bases of her strange, perhaps not
lovable, but altogether admirable character.