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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.

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.

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.