THE CZARINA’S FAMILY RELATIONS
The Empress, like all German Princesses, had been brought up in a
family atmosphere which had a great deal of the bourgeois about it.
Her father had been comparatively a poor man, and his household had
been conducted on most modest lines, as can be seen from the letters
of the Czarina’s mother, the Grand Duchess Alice of Hesse, addressed
to her own mother, Queen Victoria. Neither pomp nor magnificence had
presided over the rearing of the young Princesses left motherless so
soon, and it was only at Windsor and at Balmoral that Princess Alix
had seen what a Sovereign’s existence meant. But on the other hand she
had been very happy with her sisters and with her brother to whom she
was particularly attached. For some years after their father’s death
she had been practically the mistress of his household, and she had
felt bitterly his marriage with their cousin, the Princess Victoria
Melita of Saxe-Coburg. The latter, whose mother was a Russian Grand
Duchess, had, in her own way, just as imperious a character as her
sister-in-law, and soon relations between the two girls became more
than strained. As is well known, the marriage of the Grand Duke of
Hesse turned out a most unhappy one and ended with a divorce in which
the Princess Alix sided with her brother, and allowed the latter’s wife
to see that such was the case. This brought about a family quarrel,
which was further accentuated by the re-marriage of Victoria Melita
with her other cousin, the Grand Duke Cyril of Russia, which incensed
the Empress to such a degree that she used all her influence over
the Czar to persuade the latter to exile Cyril and his bride, and to
deprive them of their fortune and rank at the Russian Court. This was
a most unfortunate action, because it roused against the Czarina the
wrath of all her relatives, who already did not like her, and who in
consequence went over to swell the ranks of her enemies, alas, already
too numerous.
I have always regretted that my Imperial mistress was not able to make
for herself friends among her own relatives. This partiality which
she always exhibited in regard to her Hessian connections was a very
unfortunate one, and added certainly to her unpopularity. Had she been
wise, she might easily have found a warm support in the Czar’s sister,
the Grand Duchess Xenia, and the latter’s husband, whose kind feelings
in regard to her would have secured for her the allegiance of all the
sons of the Grand Duke Michael, the great uncle of the Czar, and the
most respected member of the Romanoff family, as well as the oldest.
Unfortunately she did not see the necessity for doing so, and she
feared the influence undoubtedly exercised at one time over the Czar’s
mind by Xenia, his favourite sister. Consequently she kept her at arm’s
length, and avoided inviting her to Czarskoi Selo. The Imperial family,
finding itself snubbed at every step, boycotted in its turn their
Empress, with the result that the latter drifted every day a little
farther from those who ought to have been her natural friends and
supporters.
The Grand Duchess Vladimir, herself a German Princess and by birth a
Duchess of Mecklenburg, had at one time been the one to whom Alexandra
Feodorovna had been the most attracted, and a certain intimacy had
even established itself between them. Then one day the Princess, when
calling on her niece, had found established in her room one of the
numerous nuns with whom the latter liked to surround herself and who
had been presented to her by her sister Elizabeth. She had made a few
remarks as to inadvisability of an Empress of Russia admitting into
such close intimacy an uneducated woman, who, moreover, was probably
like all Russian nuns, devoted to gossip. These remarks were very
badly received and put an end to a friendship that, in spite of the
many inconveniences it presented (the Grand Duchess Vladimir being
an active supporter of the Kaiser and of the German party at Court),
would still have been preferable to the one which continued to persist
between Alexandra Feodorovna and any amount of ignorant monks and nuns
whose society she grew at last to prefer to that of everybody else.
This, however, was not saying much, because as time went on my mistress
developed more and more this unfortunate love for solitude for which
she was so often, and not unjustly, reproached. She had a great defect
for a woman in her high position—that of taking life too seriously,
in the sense that she would never admit that any one had the right to
seek amusement or relaxation from the duties of one’s daily existence.
Indeed she looked out for duties, and found some where none existed.
She hated balls, and society she thoroughly despised, believing that
it was composed of frivolous and ill-natured people. She did not care
for innocent pleasures, not because she had any preference for others,
but because she was convinced that every single hour of any man’s or
woman’s existence ought to be consecrated to duty or occupation of some
kind. When she was compelled to appear at a ball or State function,
she did so with such a bored look that it could not fail to be noticed
and of course was resented. Her greatest happiness would have been to
lead an out-of-doors life, to take long walks, and to play tennis or
golf as a relaxation. Even her readings were always serious ones, and
such a thing as a novel was never seen in her apartments. Sometimes
her sisters-in-law would urge upon her the necessity of reading such
or such a book, whose publication had created some kind of stir in the
world. But she invariably refused, or if she consented did so under
protest, and would later on make scathing remarks as to her aversion
for such kind of literature. The Czar, on the other hand, liked to
peruse a good novel, and sometimes attempted to read the contents of
one aloud to his wife, when she would listen with a bored look on her
face, but would not, however, express in any other way her disapproval.
She was very considerate for her husband, though in the early days of
their marriage she had been inclined to show too much her influence and
power over his mind, which was also one of the things Russian society
had not forgiven her. One incident in particular had aroused the ire of
the Empress Dowager, who had made no secret of her indignation against
her young daughter-in-law on the subject. The Czar and his wife had
accepted an invitation to dine and spend the evening at the barracks of
the Hussar regiment, of which the Emperor, when heir to the throne, had
been in command. Nicholas II. was enjoying himself, as he invariably
did when amidst his old comrades of former times, but the Empress
was far from doing so, therefore, when eleven o’clock struck, she
determined she had had quite enough of it, and, calling to her husband,
said loudly and distinctly in English: “Now come, my boy, it is time
to go to bed!” One may imagine the horror of the assistants on hearing
the autocrat of All the Russias addressed in public as “my boy” by his
imprudent wife. The incident was widely commented upon and discussed,
and Marie Feodorovna thought it her duty to remonstrate with her
daughter-in-law on the subject, saying that she had never ventured to
address Alexander III. in presence of others, let alone in an official
occasion such as this one had been, otherwise than as “Sir” or “Your
Majesty.” My mistress took these remonstrances in very bad part, and
the relations between the two ladies did not improve after this affair.
Had Alexandra Feodorovna been surrounded by people who wished her well,
they would have tried to educate her mind, and to bring to her notice
the necessity of observing certain details pertaining to etiquette of
which she had never been taught the necessity in her small Darmstadt,
but which she could not neglect in her position as Empress of Russia.
Kindness would have done wonders with her, and no one would have
appreciated it more than herself, but opposition of any kind had the
effect of exasperating her and of driving her to do precisely what
she ought not to have done. She had the idea that as the wife of an
autocratic ruler she was placed above every kind of criticism, and that
no one dared to make any remark concerning her conduct or manners. Of
course this was a mistaken idea, but it had so thoroughly taken hold of
her mind that nothing could ever drive it away, and it has certainly
contributed to the misfortunes which have assailed her later on. Alas!
alas! how often have I not regretted that this sweet Princess, so
attractive in many ways, could not be brought to look upon the world
with other eyes than those of an enemy. If only she had believed those
who sincerely loved her, how different her life might have been!
During the summer of 1898, the Grand Duchess Olga caught the scarlet
fever. The English nurse who was in charge of the Imperial nursery
was left with the second little girl who had been born to the Czar
and Czarina, the Grand Duchess Tatiana, and the Empress took it upon
herself to nurse the sick child unaided. I begged permission to share
with her the care of the invalid, and it was after this that my
mistress began to confide in me to a certain degree, and to speak to
me about some of her many anxieties and sorrows. I can remember her so
well during these days and nights sitting by the cot in which her small
daughter slept, clad in a dressing gown of white flannel which I had
almost compelled her to buy for the occasion, her fair head resting on
her hand, absorbed in her thoughts, and with that sweet but anxious
expression on her beautiful face, which already at that time had begun
to settle on her features. She complained to me once that she had been
reproached by her relatives for exposing herself to the danger of
contagion. “As if that mattered,” she said, “even if I died, for the
Emperor would always find another wife who perhaps would be luckier
than I have been, and able to give him an heir. No one would miss me,
with the exception perhaps of these children,” and she started weeping
bitter tears. I tried to comfort her, saying that she must not talk in
that way, because no woman had ever been more loved by her husband than
she was by the Emperor. “Ah, my dear,” retorted the Empress, “what good
does it do me to be loved by my husband when all the world is against
me? It is the nation’s love I would wish to win, and how can I hope to
do so, so long as I have not given an heir to Russia!” Poor woman, she
really imagined that the cause of her unpopularity was the fact that
she had no son!
This reminds me of the state of mind into which my poor mistress was
thrown at the birth of her second daughter, Tatiana. She had been
worrying the whole time of her pregnancy at the idea that she might
have another girl, until at last the thought of it had become quite an
obsession, and her nervous system had been absolutely shattered as a
consequence. When the child came into the world there was a profound
silence in the room, and the doctor informed the Czar, by a previously
arranged sign, of the sex of the infant, which it was deemed necessary
to conceal from the mother at first. But the Empress saw the anxious
and troubled faces around her when she had recovered from the effects
of the chloroform which had been administered to her, and her first
words were: “My God, it is again a daughter. What will the nation say,
what will the nation say?” and she burst into loud hysterics.
Nevertheless, the wee, wee maidens who came one after the other to
enliven the family circle of the Czar and Czarina, though they were
very badly received, became in time the objects of their parents’
most affectionate love, and were cared for just as much as if their
births had not constituted a severe disappointment for their father
and mother. But the fact that for something like ten years Russia had
no direct heir, shook the position of Alexandra Feodorovna, who began
to be considered as a person of no consequence. People looked up to
the Grand Duke Michael, in whom every one saw the future Czar, and
who not only was immensely popular, but whose features and character
reminded one more than those of any of his other children of the
late Alexander III. The Empress was quite aware of this fact, and it
did not contribute to her liking for her brother-in-law. In general,
she was not upon good terms with any members of the Russian Imperial
family, with the exception of her sister of course, and of the latter’s
husband, the Grand Duke Sergius, and she clung more than ever to her
German relations, and to her brother in particular. She was always
looking forward to the short sojourns which from time to time she was
allowed to make in Darmstadt, where she felt more at her ease than
anywhere else, with the exception of Livadia, in the Crimea, where she
built for herself a kind of fairy palace, in place of the small cottage
which had been found sufficient for the Empress Marie Alexandrovna,
and where Alexander III. had breathed his last. The construction of
this palace was also one of the things for which my mistress was
reproached. People said that it was not seemly to have pulled down the
house where the late Czar had died, and they had criticised the large
amount of money which had been wasted, as was said, on the erection of
this new residence. When this was repeated to the Empress, she became
quite furious, and swore that not one of those who had thus allowed
themselves to be dissatisfied with what she had done would ever enter
the gates of her Crimean home. She kept her promise, and not even
her mother-in-law was ever invited to look upon the new castle which
Alexandra Feodorovna had built for herself on the shores of the Black
Sea, and which she had made so beautiful.