LIFE AT CZARSKOI SELO
I have often been asked details about the kind of existence by the
Imperial family in the interior of their home. So long as I was in
their service I never spoke of what I saw, and in general avoided
mentioning anything connected with the family life of my masters. It
seems to me now that I am not committing an indiscretion if I do so,
because I have nothing to say but good of the unfortunate Czar and
Czarina.
They were a most affectionate couple, and to look at them and to hear
them converse with one another one could almost have believed them to
be little “bourgeois” of the type dear to French authors, rather than
powerful sovereigns. They used often to jest together, and to tease
each other in a quiet way, and both were full of fun when left to
themselves. Later on, of course, things changed, and as the political
horizon became darker and darker, the old merry laugh with which the
Emperor and his wife used to make the halls and corridors of the
Czarskoi Selo Palace echo was hushed and could be heard very seldom.
But the sense of humour of Nicholas II. and of his Consort never
deserted them, and they were inclined to look at the joyful side of
things rather than to indulge in pessimism, in all matters that did
not pertain to the administration of their vast Empire. This was the
tragic part of their life, and, being both highly conscientious people,
they suffered cruelly to find that all their efforts to ameliorate the
condition of their people were misunderstood. Of course it is idle
to deny that the weakness of character of the Emperor was greatly to
blame in the series of disasters which finally overpowered him and
his family, but it must also be acknowledged that he never met with
any sincere and disinterested help in the responsibilities of his
arduous task. During the first years of her marriage the Empress kept,
or rather was kept, aloof from everything connected with politics,
which was a great pity, because at that time she might have made
herself useful in many ways. But all the ministers and the advisers
of Nicholas II. were of opinion that his wife had to be relegated to
a subordinate position, and he himself had no desire to initiate her
into the complicated details connected with the government of Russia.
It was only after she had given birth to an heir that the position
of Alexandra Feodorovna became an important one, and that she was
consulted by her husband. By that time the reputation for weakness of
character of the Emperor had become an established fact, and those who
hitherto had ruled him, furious at finding themselves evicted, started
the report that the Empress was abusing her influence over the Czar,
and obliging him to conform himself to her own political views, which
were supposed to be entirely German.
So far as I have been able to judge, this was an error, at least in
some details. The Czarina was very fond of the land of her birth,
this cannot be denied, but she was too affectionate a mother not to
see that it would have been impossible to carry on a purely German
policy in Russia, and the thing to which she clung the most was her
throne and the possibility of seeing her own son occupy it in time. She
was ambitious for him as well as for herself, and though this may be
deplored, yet there is nothing astonishing in the fact.
She did not care for St. Petersburg and the luxury of her apartments
in the Winter Palace, and after the Japanese war and the Revolution she
persuaded the Czar to give up residing there and to make his permanent
home at Czarskoi Selo, or in Livadia in the Crimea. They used to come
sometimes to the capital for some military festivity or other, but
their sojourn there was always of short duration, and never extended
beyond a few hours. The only time they resided in it again, and this
only for three days, was on the occasion of the celebration of the
jubilee of three hundred years of the accession of the Romanoff dynasty
to the throne of Russia. After they left it then, they were never more
to sleep under its roof, though their rooms were always kept ready for
them. Sometimes the Empress stopped there for a cup of tea, when on
one of her rare visits to St. Petersburg, to inspect some charitable
institution, but she never liked them, though she had furnished them
with such care and she never felt at home in those immense halls
which could not be made homely or comfortable, in the sense generally
attached to this word.
At Czarskoi Selo existence ran very smoothly. The Empress rose early
and, after partaking of a cup of tea in bed, threw a dressing gown
over her shoulders, and repaired to her children’s rooms. She was
always present when they said their prayers, and she used to read to
them a chapter of the Bible, or the Gospel for the day. It was only
after the performance of this duty that she began her own toilet, which
was always an elaborate affair, and this to the last day of my stay
with her, even after she had discarded most of her ornaments and fine
gowns and assumed the garb of the sister of charity she declared she
had become. But she was particular in the care she used to take of
her own person and would spend a longer time than any one else would
have done in her bath and in the general occupation of her dressing
and undressing. After her hair had been arranged and she had assumed
the gown she chose out of the three or four which were brought for her
inspection, she would go to the small apartment where breakfast was
served, and where her children were generally already awaiting her. A
servant would then inform the Emperor that his wife was in the dining
room, and he would join her there almost immediately. The meal never
began without him, and was a simple though an abundant one. Eggs, cold
meat, and a variety of cakes and biscuits with hot rolls, generally
composed it. Nicholas II. was a gourmet, and though he cared most for
Russian cooking, yet he insisted on everything that was served him
being of the very best. Lunch was the meal of which he partook most
freely, and it consisted always of some five or six courses, beginning
with caviar and other relishes, and ending with fresh fruit, no matter
what the season of the year might be, and very strong coffee. The Czar
was a most sober man in his family circle, contrary to what has been
said of him, and his only drink was Crimean wine from his own vintages,
which was very good indeed. Sometimes, when he went to supper at the
mess of his former regiment of Hussars, of which he had remained very
fond, he partook freely of champagne, which started the legend that
he was an inordinate drunkard, but these occasions were rare, and
certainly never gave rise to any outward manifestation on his part
which might have accredited this malicious report. Strong drinks never
appeared on the Imperial table. Nicholas II. drank a small glass of
vodka before his meals, as every Russian does, but this was all. As
for the Empress, she seldom touched anything but mineral water, and
the children were brought up on strictly abstemious lines. During
dinner, which was served at eight o’clock, Madeira and sherry appeared,
also red and white wine, but this was for the benefit of the guests
invited. There were always some at this meal, but these comprised the
ladies in waiting on the Empress, and the personal attendants on the
Emperor, rarely any one else. Sometimes a military band played some of
the Czarina’s favourite airs, when she would listen with attention, but
this seldom occurred except on Sundays. The dinner was an elaborate
affair, composed principally of Russian dishes, for Nicholas II.
disliked French sauces and French menus, and used to say that what he
preferred was plain and excellent Russian fare. The kind of fish called
Sterlet was a favourite of his, also a pudding which went by the name
of Gourieswkaya Kacha, or gruel, and which was really very good. The
Empress was absolutely indifferent to what she ate or drank, and would
have been perfectly satisfied to exist on oatmeal and eggs. The only
thing she was particular about was her tea, which she wanted to be made
very strong, and the brand she preferred was one in which green tea was
mixed with black; she utterly repudiated Indian or Ceylon tea, giving
her preference to Chinese caravan.
As the Imperial children grew up, their mother adopted the custom of
spending most of her time with them when the state of her health so
allowed. She had always been very delicate, and developed violent
nervous headaches which totally prostrated her and confined her to her
bed in a dark room, sometimes for two or three days at a time. These
attacks left her terribly weak, and she would require care and quiet
to get over them. Sometimes another attack would overpower her before
the effects of the first one had passed away. This was the origin of
the rumour that she was an unnatural mother who for days did not allow
her daughters to approach her. Nothing of the kind ever took place, but
when my poor mistress was laid up her sufferings were so intense that
sometimes the sound of a footstep in the next room would add to the
agony which she endured, and of course she had to be left alone at such
periods. But the world, always cruel and unjust in regard to her, would
have it that she confined herself in her apartments because she could
not bear her children, and it pitied them in consequence.
But when she was in good health, the Czarina gave up every minute of
her time to her family. She took upon herself the religious instruction
of her son and daughters, and she tried to rear them in the strong
principles which she herself professed. Both the Czar and herself
observed with extreme punctuality the rites of the Greek Orthodox
Church. During the whole six weeks of Lent, no meat appeared on the
Imperial table, and at festivals as well as on Sundays, the whole
family attended all the morning and afternoon services which were
celebrated in the chapel of the Palace. Afterwards the Empress built a
church in Czarskoi Selo, which became one of the most beautiful shrines
in the whole of Russia, and she regularly went to it, forsaking the
private chapel of her own residence. She had arranged for herself an
oratory in one corner of the building, from which she could, unseen
herself, follow the religious services. This eccentricity, which
proceeded from the fact that the Czarina did not care to be the object
of the attention of the congregation, was also made the cause of
violent and unseemly attacks upon her person and character.
[Illustration: _International Film Service_
THE EX-CZARINA OF RUSSIA AND HER FOUR DAUGHTERS]
When the state of her health allowed her to do so, Alexandra Feodorovna
went for long walks in the park surrounding the Palace, with the
Emperor and her children. She was inordinately fond of the open air,
and was never so happy as in the Crimea, where she could indulge in
her taste for it. There she spent hours arranging her rose garden and
generally beautifying this lovely place, to which she hoped she would
one day be able to retire. It is not generally known, but a fact, that
both the Emperor and herself nursed the idea of abdicating in favour
of their son as soon as the latter should be old enough to assume the
government of the country, and of retiring to Livadia for the rest of
their days. Neither Nicholas II. nor his Consort ever dreamt that this
abdication would be imposed upon them by events the magnitude of which
no one in the whole of Russia could have been able to foresee.
Very few visitors ever came to enliven the solitude of Czarskoi Selo,
but at Livadia the Empress would make a point of inviting to dinner and
to small dances given for her daughters, all the people living in the
neighbourhood, or staying in the various hotels on the Crimean coast,
who had been presented to her. The officers of the Imperial yacht, the
_Standard_, were also bidden to these parties, and they were almost the
only persons with whom the Empress ever conversed freely. She was very
fond of the sea, and during the cruises which she took every summer in
the Finnish waters she grew to know by name all the crew of the vessel
on which she found herself, and she took pleasure in talking with the
officers and men, the former of whom were afterwards always welcomed by
her wherever she was.
But in general she did not care for society. Her Mistress of the Robes
was about the only woman admitted to her intimacy as long the post was
occupied by the Princess Galitzyne, but after the death of the latter
and the appointment of Madame Narischkine, the relations of the Empress
with the head of her household became purely formal, and the only real
confidante she possessed during the last six or seven years which
preceded the war and the Revolution was a woman who was destined to do
her an infinity of harm and whom she would have done much better to
have kept at arm’s length—the too famous Madame Wyroubieva, about whom
I shall have something to say later on.