These incidents indicating this phase of the Tsaritsa’s character are, of course, sympathetically interpreted by Miss Eager because she, herself, believes so absolutely in the spirit world, in dreams and intuitions.
For example, before Port Arthur was beseiged, Miss Eager in a dream saw its fall and told the Empress about it. The Empress afterwards reminded her of this dream and deeply regretted that the Tsar had not taken counsel from Miss Eager’s vision rather than from Philippe.
On another occasion, Miss Eager told Mary, the nurse, to go and tell a certain lift-man in the Palace that he was not to work that day as, in a dream, she had seen him terribly crushed and mangled, but Mary laughed and refused to convey the message. Miss Eager thought it seemed rather foolish and so did not insist upon sending the message to the man. That afternoon, when she returned from the daily drive with the Grand Duchesses, the Empress sent for her and said, “Miss Eager, this morning, you told Mary to warn the lift-man not to work to-day and Mary refused to carry your message.” Miss Eager said, “Yes, that is true.” “Well,” said the Empress, “I sent for you because I wanted to tell you myself that while you were out with the children, the lift-man was killed.”
Another curious incident which is hard to explain occurred at the time of the death of Princess Ella, a daughter of the Grand Duke of Hesse, a charming child of seven years, who succumbed to an illness of only 36 hours’ duration,—apparently ptomaine poisoning. The child was staying at the time with her Royal uncle and aunt, the Tsarand Tsaritsa at the Palace in Poland. While the child was ill, and just before her life spark was extinguished, two of the Russian Grand Duchesses, Olga and Tatiana, who were sleeping together in a neighbouring room, suddenly began to scream frantically. The Empress, the physicians in attendance upon Princess Ella and Miss Eager rushed into the room where the children were and saw them standing in their beds and shrieking in terror. It was long before they could be pacified and then they told how they had seen a strange man with flowing robes and great wings, walk through their room. While they were still telling of the fearful apparition, the eyes of both the children suddenly became dilated with terror and both of them simultaneously pointing in the same direction, cried, “Look! Look! There he is again. Don’t you see him? He is going into Ella’s room. Poor Ella! Poor Ella!” Of course, none of the adults could see anything and the physicians assured the Empress that it was but an attack of childish hysteria which had suddenly and strangely come upon both children. Only a few moments later, the Empress and the physicians were hurriedly summoned to the bedside of the dying child who, lapsing into a state of coma, died in the Tsaritsa’s arms. To this day, the Empress, as well as the Emperor and Miss Eager, are convinced that the children actually saw this Angel of Death passing into the room of the dying Princess. At least, it is true that there are many similar inexplicable cases on record of children and sometimes of animals, as well as of dying persons, having supernatural vision at moments of death. Horses, for example, have been known to become terror-stricken when passing the scene of a murder, while the well-known death-rap is of such common occurrence that there can be no doubt of its existence.
These incidents are related in order to explain much that is otherwise inexplicable in the character of the Tsaritsa. The mental development which she has experienced through her entire life has been logical and in natural sequence. Her early philosophical and theological interests have simply been developed abnormally in the abnormal environment in which she has lived. While the Empress has been ever sceptical when conversing with her friends and reluctant to accept as reality, manifestations of the spirit world, there can be no doubt that both she and the Emperor have nevertheless been secretly convinced that they are both instruments of God as well as possessing the power of holding converse with the spirit world.
This is proved by the canonisation of Seraphim, the parish priest of Tambov, whose tomb they visited prior to the birth of the heir, Alexis. Seraphim had been dead seventy years, but the Tsar, anxious to leave no stone unturned to procure a son and heir, encouraged by the Tsaritsa, insisted upon the canonisation of Seraphim. When the remains of the old priest were unearthed, it was found that the body was badly decomposed,and to canonise a man whose body yields to the influence of decomposition is contrary to the traditions and customs of the Church. Orthodox Bishop Dmitry of Tambov made bold to call attention to this fact and protest the canonisation of Seraphim. For his temerity, the Tsar, deeply angered, ordered that Dmitry be deprived of his see and exiled to Viatka. According to Emperor Nicholas, the preservation of bones, hair and teeth were sufficient qualification for saintship. Furthermore His Majesty was upheld in this by various sycophant but prophetic monks, who, with sublime assurance, allowed that God will one day work a miracle and restore Seraphim’s body. So Seraphim was canonised with great pomp and ritualistic solemnity. If anything were needed to fasten the belief of the Tsar and Tsaritsa in these extreme forms of religion it was the patent answer to their faith and trust in Philippe and Seraphim.
The boy was called Alexis and he was born on July 30, 1904, according to the Russian calendar, and since that time, Tsar and Tsaritsa have been given more and more to spiritualistic religion.
Ofrecent years, since the war with Japan and the revolutionary outbreak in 1905-6, few court functions have been held. In the ordinary daily routine the Tsaritsa prefers to breakfast alone, to lunch with only one lady-in-waiting and the Emperor with but one adjutant. The dinners are likewise simple as often as is possible. The older children are brought in for meals when there are no guests. The tastes of both Tsar and Tsaritsa are equally simple as to food and to dress. The Tsar’s favourite uniform is that of Colonel of one of his regiments, except in the summer, when he frequently appears in hunting costume—an English Norfolk jacket, knee trousers and leggings or high boots.
English is the language generally used by the Royal Family when alone,—English and German. The Tsaritsa speaks Russian quite correctly, but with a marked German accent. This is not strange in view of the fact that she did not begin to study the language until after her betrothal. Like most Germans, she speaks French poorly and consequently French has never been a popular languagewith them, although the Tsar speaks it most excellently well.
Because English is used so much by the Emperor and Empress it is the popular language in court circles and among officers. Many Russians send their children to England when they are very young in order that English may be their first language. I have known many Russians who spoke English absolutely perfectly; fluently and without the slightest trace of foreign accent. The children of the Tsar and Tsaritsa use English most.
The Tsaritsa’s voice is low and deep, not unmusical. Her laugh is light, usually breaking into a silvery falsetto. She is slightly taller than the Tsar, being about five feet eight and one-half inches, while he is barely five feet eight inches. Her face still wears an expression of soft, wistful beauty, which is enhanced by a small mole near the corner of her mouth. It is so small that it frequently is not noticed at all, but if one stands near her it is observed and not unpleasantly.
Miss Eager relates an incident which reveals the curious stolidity not to say cold-bloodedness of the character of the Empress. The Empress had gone to the christening of a battleship at St. Petersburg and returned to the Palace at St. Petersburg in the evening. In the nursery the Empress told Miss Eager how the officers of the ship had been drawn up in line for the ceremony when a sudden thunderstorm had descended and a peculiarly vivid flash of lightning had struck a flagstaff nearby, shattering as it fell and striking some of the officers. One man rolled right to the feet of the Empress and her dress had been splashed with blood. The Dowager Empress had fainted at this sight, but the Empress herself insisted that the man had died in the service of his country and that consequently it was not a matter for mourning!
Of late years, the health of the Empress has been decidedly shattered. During the summer of 1910, the Tsar took her for a long holiday to Germany. She visited her childhood home of Darmstadt and later took a cure at a watering-place known for its beneficial effects upon people suffering from nervous and heart disorders.
During the summer of 1907 when the Imperial Family were holidaying on the yacht,Standart, off the islands of Finland, there was an attempt to do away with the entire family, the full details of which have never leaked out into the broad world. It is known, however, that this attempt was the result of a conspiracy which included some of the officers and men of the Royal yacht. The shock which the Empress sustained at that time, she has never recovered from and more or less sensational rumours are frequently given to the world suggesting the precarious condition of her mind as well as of her nerves.
From this extraordinarily exclusive family life, which is at present the rule at Peterhof and Tsarskoe-Selo (the two places where the Imperial Family spend most of their time) the Tsar hascome to be spoken of among the Grand Dukes and people of the court as “The Little Married Man.” This phrase is indicative of the supercilious way that family life is regarded in Russia. Americans are frequently horrified at the nonchalant way that Russian nobles flaunt their mistresses about the streets and public restaurants of St. Petersburg.
The Tsar, as a young man, was probably as fast as any of his court, but after his marriage he settled down wonderfully. Whether he still has his wayward periods, as gossip sometimes asserts, I do not know. On the whole he is a good husband and a fond father. He undoubtedly appreciates the tremendous love the Tsaritsa pours upon him.
The attitude of the Tsaritsa toward the education of the Russian people will seem somewhat extraordinary to Americans, though after all it is probably consistent with her life. In this, as in everything else, she accepts the attitude of her liege and lord, the sovereign of the Russian people. When a certain Count Tolstoy (not the late Leo Tolstoy) was Minister of Public Instruction he once appealed to the Empress to aid him in extending the educational advantages of the Empire to the girls and young women of the country. (I have Count Tolstoy’s own permission to relate this incident.)
The Tsaritsa listened to the Minister attentively as he set forth the needs of Russia in this direction, and when he had concluded she replied that she thought all young girls should be taught to sew,to care for their homes, in short, to become helpful wives and good mothers, but as for granting them the privileges of so-called “higher education,” knowledge of history, philosophy and the sciences—to this she was entirely opposed. “Because these studies, when offered to women, only result in such terrible times as Russia is now passing through.”
This, surely, is a remarkable tribute to the women of Russia, the Tsaritsa holding them responsible for the movement toward liberty and freedom, as a result of their contact with education and culture!
On the other hand, the Tsaritsa sometimes generously encourages the extension of school opportunities to individual girls whose efforts happen to have been brought to her attention. For example, Miss Eager, who for six years was governess to the little Grand Duchesses, and who probably saw as much of the Tsaritsa during those years as anyone outside of the Royal Family has ever seen, relates this anecdote, which I repeat with particular gladness, because it is one of the few of the kind that I have heard concerning Her Majesty.
“This story was told me by the Empress herself,” says Miss Eager. “One morning there arrived on the train from the Caucasus, a little girl aged eleven. She approached a station porter and asked to be sent to the Minister of Education. The porter was greatly astonished and hesitated as to what he should do. Then the child said with oldishsolemnity, ‘I have come from the Caucasus, a seven days’ journey, to be put to school; you must please get me a droshky and send me to his house.’ So the porter called a carriage and directed that she be driven to the Ministry of Education. Arriving there she had great difficulty in gaining admission to the Minister, but the doorman finally consented to tell the Minister that a little girl from the Caucasus desired to see him.
“The Minister was occupied at the moment, with a Secretary of the Empress, but the latter was interested in the message and the child was ushered into the office. The little girl bowed to the two dignitaries and proceeded to relate her case. The Minister appeared greatly amused and told the child she must return to her home, as he had no vacancy. But the little girl was persistent and soon showed that she had no idea of returning so easily to her distant home across the Empire. ‘You are Minister of Education,’ she exclaimed, ‘and I have come all the way from the Caucasus to St. Petersburg to be put to school. Youmustput me somewhere.’ The Minister, though puzzled, was beginning to be impressed. At last the Empress’s Secretary begged that the child be cared for until there was a vacancy in one of the schools patronised by the Tsaritsa. These schools are few in number and are very exclusive. A note was thereupon written by the Minister to the Mistress of one of these schools and the little girl was sent to her under escort of a footman. The joy of the child was unbounded and she could scarcely express her gratitude to the Minister.
“The Secretary went that afternoon to Peterhof and related the incident to the Tsaritsa herself. The Empress asked that an inquiry be made immediately and the truth of the child’s story substantiated. The investigation showed that the two older sisters of the child had been admitted to a local school, but there was no room for her. She took this greatly to heart and fretted over it until at last she determined to get a schooling anyway. She appealed to friends, to the local priest and the doctor, and all of their combined efforts to reconcile her to the ‘Will of God’ proved futile. At last, to pacify her, they subscribed enough money for a ticket to the capital, and the child set forth on her long journey all alone.
“When the Empress heard the story in detail, her heart was touched and she commanded that place be made for her in one of her own schools. The child is there to-day, receiving careful instruction, and enjoying the direct patronage of the Empress.”
The Empress really loves all children, and in spite of the coolness which exists between her and her court, all children are fond of her. On the name day of each of her own children, she takes a long drive with the child whose celebration it is, and this event is much looked forward to by them all. Whatever leniency may be exercised in correcting the capricious whims of Alexis, I believethat she is a strict mother with all of her daughters.
The Empress has few recreations. Owing to the fact that she rides badly she practically never rides for pleasure. Because of her disposition she has few, if any, real confidantes and intimate friends among the ladies of the Court. She has ladies-in-waiting—several hundred of them—but these are chiefly for formal occasions, and of her own choice she has but one near her at a time and different ladies are chosen for brief periods. Evenings she and the Emperor choose to retire to their private apartments and if she has no guests she reads aloud to him, not infrequently from English newspapers or an English novel.
The Tsar is fond of cards. The game of wint, a gambling game much played all over Russia, is a favourite of his, and he usually plays for high stakes, much enjoying the zest that the gambling element lends to the game. The Tsaritsa, on the other hand, is fond of the camera, and enjoys photography immensely. The children have few playmates apart from their own family and sometimes Royal cousins, children of one or another of the Grand Dukes, or one of the Royal relatives of their own mother or father abroad.
The Princess Ella, daughter of the present Grand Duke of Hesse and brother to the Tsaritsa, was a playmate whom the little Russian Grand Duchesses adored up to the sad and untimely death of the German Princess. Being left most of the time to themselves, the children of the Tsar andTsaritsa enjoy joining their mother in her pastimes when it is possible, and photography is one of the things that they all can do together.
The Emperor has always done some shooting each year and is really fond of the sport. One morning a few summers ago he returned to the Palace quite fatigued, having been out all night after blackcock. Blackcock shooting is considered right good sport because the birds are so shy that it is difficult to get near them, and indeed, it is only at certain times of the year that they can be shot at all. On the morning that I refer to the Empress greeted the Royal sportsman and turning to a friend said: “Blackcock can only be shot at the mating season, when the males are pouring forth their song in deaf and blind rapture.” Could anything be more cruel than to kill them at such a time?
In the summer the Tsaritsa is fond of sailing in and out among the Finnish wherries, but this annual outing is for two or three weeks only. Previous to “Bloody Sunday” in January, 1905, the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg was occupied, but since that fateful day the two outlying palaces only have been used. This has been a disappointment to Grand Duchess Olga, who always loved the Winter Palace and often expresses the wish to “live there all the time.” The Winter Palace is the largest building in Europe and is a marvel in appointments. It contains rarest malachites and jaspers, rich paintings, gifts galore that have beenshowered upon other Tsars, priceless jewels, and wonderful carved furniture. Besides the great rooms of state, salons and banquet rooms, suites of residence, libraries, offices, and vast halls that are now used as public museums, are beautiful winter gardens, great conservatories rich in tropical plants, rare ferns and orchids, blossoming plants exuding fragrance, and among the forest of greenery hang many cages of singing birds. In the centre of these winter gardens are pools of water in which gold fish sport, and at times pretty fountains play into these pools.
Whenever I have been in this wonderful palace I have felt as if I were wandering through a dream world. Several times I have been through portions of this palace and each time I have felt a new thrill of unreality.
The occasion of my first visit was when the Tsar received the members of the first Duma, the occasion when I first saw the Tsaritsa, the Dowager Empress and the little Grand Duchesses. The Tsar had commanded all of the grand dames of the Court to appear in full court costume, and the result was a scene of unparalleled splendour, a spectacle imposing beyond imagination. The Throne Room and halls that were in use that day suggested scenes from the magnificent days of the Empire of France when beautiful women and emblazoned, uniformed men arrayed themselves in costumes of glittering splendour. The old Russian court costumes which were worn in the Winter Palace that
THE WINTER PALACE, THE SCENE OF “BLOODY SUNDAY.”
THE WINTER PALACE, THE SCENE OF “BLOODY SUNDAY.”
THE WINTER PALACE, THE SCENE OF “BLOODY SUNDAY.”
day were quite as splendid as any the French ever conceived even in the days of greatest pomp and show.
On another occasion I was received at the Winter Palace by a well-known and powerful nobleman of the Court, who has been close to the Empress for many years in the dual capacity of high functionary and friend. He is one to whom my high thanks are due for some of the material contained in these articles, for he not only told me some of the anecdotes which are here related, but he verified much of the material that I had collected from other persons and sources.
Peterhof is the favourite residence of the Tsaritsa and four of her five children were born there. One of the several buildings of this palace boasts a charming romantic history. About half a century ago when the first Nicholas was soon to be Emperor of Russia, he paid a visit to the German court. During the visit a tournament was held and Nicholas, then a Grand Duke, acquitted himself with honour. At the close of the tournament the victors rode past and close under a balcony, where were seated the ladies of the court and the Royal Family. A young Prussian Princess tossed a wreath of roses which the Russian Grand Duke caught on his sword.
The incident proved the beginning of an attachment which culminated in their marriage. Some years after, when the Grand Duke had become Emperor, he bought the great park of Peterhof andbuilt a palace for his Empress. Remembering the incident of the wreath of roses, at the tournament at the Prussian court, the device of a sword and a wreath of roses was made the predominant decorative figure of the palace. You may see it there to-day. Now as then, Peterhof belongs to the ruling Empress. Tsarskoe-Selo is an Imperial residence belonging to the government. Both of these palaces are within an hour of St. Petersburg.
Any visitor may stroll through the outer gardens and adjoining parks of the palaces and at any time one may meet the Tsaritsa or the Grand Duchesses driving or riding. The Tsar is the only real prisoner of the family, although Alexis, the four-year-old heir, is jealously guarded.
The Tsaritsa rides badly. Despite the fact that she is commander and “honorary Colonel” of at least two cavalry regiments she does not sit a horse well and never rides for pleasure. In this respect she is very unlike many modern Queens, notably the Empress Elizabeth of Austria, who was a marvellous horsewoman, possessing that rare hypnotic influence over the most spirited horses that the animals themselves are quick to recognise and yield to. It is only on such occasions as a review of one of her own regiments that the Tsaritsa mounts a horse. Ordinarily she drives—in summer in an open carriage, and generally unescorted.
The children may from time to time be seen playing about the lawns with a favourite pony, or driving in little wicker-work carts. They are asfull of frolic as any little girl in America, and in the nursery and the household apartments of the palaces they are as ingenuous, as irrepressible and often quite as embarrassing as any children we all know. Royal manners, at least in the children, are no different from manners of other people, and the daughters of even an Emperor and Empress have sometimes to be rebuked quite as severely as any children the world over.
The Tsaritsa dresses very plainly. Richly often, but in general effect simple. The Court has never approved her clothes, chiefly, I think, because of her inability to wear good clothes well. As a child she dressed in the utmost simplicity and the habit has remained with her. At certain court functions etiquette prescribes her costume. When she dons court dress known as Old Russian, she has merely to wear elaborate clothes that have been described in detail for her generations ago. It is when she dons costumes for everyday wear that she fails to please a fastidious court.
The average American girl very naturally thinks of the clothes of the Tsaritsa of Russia with a combined feeling of awe and interest, with just a little of envy creeping in. Imagine having all the money you want to spend on your clothes and being able to wear jewels valued at millions of dollars. And, of course, the American girl wants to know all the details of the Tsaritsa’s wardrobe, and how many hats and dresses she has each season, and how much they cost.
It may be a disappointing fact, but it is nevertheless true, that the Tsaritsa just hates the thought of clothes, and though her costumes are of expensive fabrics, they never have any chic individuality of their own, for the very good reason that she cares so little about them. Of course, she does her shopping in Paris, but she does it by proxy. One of the Ladies-in-Waiting is commissioned to buy each season her gowns and her hats and all the other little details appropriate for a Tsaritsa’s wardrobe, in Paris, but many times when they reach the Tsaritsa, she discards them with the expression, “Indeed, that is perfectly lovely and very Frenchy, but it would never do for me at all.”
The corsetiere in Paris who makes the Tsaritsa’s stays has troubles of her own, for the Tsaritsa utterly refuses to change her figure to suit the ever-changing modes. Her waist is growing large of late, according to the Parisian idea of a fashionable figure, but this doesn’t trouble the Tsaritsa as much as it would trouble many women in America.
For everyday wear her gowns are all of the plainest, but, of course, there are occasions when she must wear regal robes. Her court costume is a magnificent creation of the richest satin elaborately trimmed with heavy embroidery. Masses of the embroidery are used, while the corsage is laden with jewelled trimming. The buttons which trim this court costume are each one of them worth a small fortune. They consist of a large pearl in a wonderfully artistic setting. The Tsaritsa’s pearls,which she wears with her court costume are famous the world over.
It is no wonder she has all of these magnificent things, for in addition to the hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of gifts that she has herself received from her subjects and from fabulously rich kings, princes and potentates of the East and Central Asia, she has at her disposal jewels that belong to the Russian Crown—gifts to other Empresses, and Emperors, far back, perhaps for several hundred years.
Sometimes she wears drop-earrings of matched pearls, which are marvellously valuable, and her dog collar and necklace and corsage pin, also of pearls, have a value of millions of dollars. The Tsaritsa is always glad when the time comes for her to take off her court costume. The long, heavy train is a burden to her. She is very partial to light-in-weight gowns.
Many of her dresses are of the lingerie order, consisting of lace and fine nainsook.
Yet, on the other hand, she has many house gowns and cloaks of velvet, trimmed with rare laces. Perhaps, of all her jewels, she cares most for a long string of wonderful pearls, which she wears very often. The string is so long that she can wear it twice around her neck, and yet have the longest loop reach to her knees. The short loop comes to the waistline, and is finished with one single pear-shaped pearl of enormous value.
All the children’s clothes are made according tothe Tsaritsa’s idea, and simplicity is their key-note. The children are very apt to wear white entirely, and the four little girls are dressed exactly alike. Their hair is arranged in the same way, too, brushed straight back from their foreheads. Of course, the finest of materials is used in making their clothes, but the design is always extremely simple. Their christening costumes were all made alike, even the small boy’s this time. They were of the sheerest of white mull with exquisitely fine lace insertions. The little dresses had short sleeves and were cut out round at the neck, and tied on the shoulders with white ribbon, having long, silk fringe. The shoulder bows were the dress-up touch, the touch which is so seldom seen in any of the costumes worn by the Tsaritsa’s children.
The young man of the family is also usually dressed in white, and though his little Russian suits come from Paris, they are strictly plain in design, generally of heavy white linen, and trimmed with bands of embroidery.
All these little details may be commonplace, but they are perhaps all important when we are trying to analyse the character of the Tsaritsa through her tastes.
Theeffect of the war upon the children of the Tsaritsa caused much pain to their gentle English governess, Miss Eager, who relates the following experience: “It was very sad to witness the wrathful, vindictive spirit that the war raised in my little charges. One of the illustrated papers had a picture of the baby children of the Crown Prince of Japan. Marie and Anastasie came running across to see the picture, and wanted to know who those queer little children were. I told them, and with a look of hatred coming into her sweet face Marie slapped the picture with her open hand. ‘Horrid little people,’ said she; ‘they came and destroyed our poor ships and drowned our sailors.’”Miss Eager then explained to the little Grand Duchess that it was not these children who had done this terrible thing, because they were only babies and could not possibly fight. But Marie answered obstinately, “Yes; those little babies did it. Mamma told me the Japs were all only little people!”
Olga, as usual, was yet more bitter toward the Japanese. One day she opened up vituperatively: “I hope the Russian soldiers will kill all of theJapanese; not leave even one alive.” Her teacher tried to explain that there were many little children and women in Japan, who had nothing whatever to do with the war and could not fight under any circumstances. Would it be good, she asked of Olga, for the Russian soldiers to kill these too? The child was thoughtful for a moment, then asked: “Have they an Emperor in Japan?” “Yes, certainly,” the teacher answered. Olga then asked several more questions, and finally remarked: “I did not know that the Japs were people like ourselves. I thought they were only like monkeys.”
Olga, like so many children, who are the oldest in a family, has always been a handful. About Marie, and Anastasie, and Tatiana too, for that matter, are many pretty little stories of charming childish ways, but almost every anecdote I heard of Olga was when she had been up to some mischief, or disobedient, or stubborn, or quick of temper. One or two of these stories, however, are interesting and show that even the mother task of an Empress’s life is very much like every mother’s life, and especially in the case of the Tsaritsa who has ever undertaken so much more personal care of her children than most Queens—and one may even say, than many mothers right here in this land.
One day, before the outbreak of the war, when Olga was quite a little girl, she was taken for a drive with her nurse along the Nevsky Prospect, the principal street in St. Petersburg. The little Grand Duchess simply would not behave. Shewas continually jumping up and attracting the attention of people along the streets, and as it was that time in the afternoon when the Nevsky is crowded, this meant pretty much the attention of all St. Petersburg.
Suddenly the child dropped back into her seat and sat bolt upright as quiet as you please, her hands folded demurely in her lap. After a moment she turned to her nurse and said: “Did you see that policeman?” The nurse replied she had, but there was nothing extraordinary about a policeman on the street. “But this one was writing something,” pursued Olga. “I am afraid he was writing, ‘I saw Olga and she was very naughty.’”
When the nurse replied that this was unlikely Olga reminded her, somewhat reproachfully, that a few days before they had seen a policeman arresting a woman who was under the influence of liquor, and when Olga had begged that the woman be let off the nurse had replied that the woman had been very naughty and deserved to be arrested, adding that one had to be very naughty indeed to be taken off by the policeman in that way.
The incident evidently made a deep impression upon the child, for no sooner had they got back to the Palace than Olga began to inquire if any policeman had been there for her. As soon as she could, she related the whole affair to the Tsar and the Tsaritsa and ended by asking her father if he had ever been arrested. The Emperor laughed and said he had never been quite naughty enoughfor that, to which Olga exclaimed: “Oh! how very good you must always have been!”
A little while before this Olga had been naughty all day and her nurse said to her: “I am afraid you got out of bed with the wrong foot foremost this morning.” Olga looked thoughtful for a moment but said nothing. The next morning, before getting out of bed she called to her nurse to ask which was the right foot for her to get out with. The nurse indicated one of her feet and Olga slowly descended upon it. “Now,” she said, “that bad foot won’t be able to make me naughty to-day.” And all day, whenever Olga started to do things she ought not to do, the nurse had only to remind her that she had got out of bed with her right foot that morning, therefore she couldn’t be contrary.
Tatiana’s next youngest sister, the Grand Duchess Marie, one day caused a ripple of amusement in the same Winter Palace. She was looking out of one of the windows when a regiment of soldiers marched past, through the magnificent Winter Palace Square over which a colossal Angel of Peace broods, perched on a towering marble column. Suddenly Marie exclaimed, “Oh! I love these dear soldiers; I should like to kiss them all!”
One of the family who was standing near overheard the child’s remark and said: “Marie, nice little girls don’t kiss soldiers.”
Marie made no reply, but a little later there was a children’s party at the Palace, and among the guests were the children of the Grand Duke Constantine. One of the boys, aged twelve, had just entered in the military school where high noblemen’s sons are trained for the army—theCorps de Pages. This miniature officer arrived in his brand new uniform and as he met his cousin Marie he made to kiss her. But Marie sprang away, covering her mouth with her hand. “Go away, soldier,” she cried. “I don’t kiss soldiers—nice little girls don’t kiss soldiers.”
Her cousin was so well pleased at being taken for a real soldier that he readily forgave his dignified little cousin for declining his proffered kiss.
Tatiana and Marie have always been sweet children, and, on the whole even tempered if mischievous. Olga, however, the eldest, has never been so popular. In 1899, when Olga was four years old the Royal Family (which then included only three children), went to Moscow for a brief sojourn. While there the Empress decided to have portraits painted of the three children.
The artist who was entrusted with this commission began to take innumerable photographs of them all. This was preliminary to the sittings. The sittings proved tedious and tiresome and after the fourth or fifth sitting Grand Duchess Olga quite lost her patience and her temper, and at last exclaimed to the artist: “You are a very ugly man and I don’t like you a bit.”
To the amusement of several members of the Imperial Household the artist was much hurt by this Royal comment, and offended as well. He evenventured to resent the child’s outburst. “You are the first lady who has ever said I was ugly, and moreover, I’m not a man—I’m a gentleman,” he replied.
Ladies of the Court were always loath to talk about Olga. “She is cranky,” said one. “She is not nice,” said another. And one grand lady of honour went so far as to shrug her shoulders and say: “She is like her mother!” When I pressed this and begged her tell me more, the lady merely referred to the haughty, disdainful manner of the Empress. I think I have explained this attitude as I have understood it.
The Empress received very little sympathy and consideration from the ladies of her Court from her first coming to Russia, and she soon came to hold her head high and walk heedless through the throng. She apparently gave no effort to winning friends but accepted the atmosphere which circumstances and an obstinate Court created for her. Perhaps the consciousness of her lack of popularity wore upon her, and rasped. That wide popularity of the Dowager Empress, and her lack of cordiality toward her young successor doubtless tended to further develop the very qualities that have been her bane. At all events her disposition toward most of the people of her Court has never been happy, and their silent resentment of her coolness has driven her more and more into herself, to the consolations of religion, and her family.
One Lady-in-Waiting, for example, told me thatshe had been attached to the person of the Empress from time to time for a number of years. She herself is a Princess of old family and in excellent standing at Court. One day, when the Grand Duchess Olga was three years old the Princess and the child were together in one of the nursery rooms. The Princess stood with her back to one of the walls and Olga came toddling across the room as fast as her little legs would carry her. The Princess stretched out her arms, caught up the child and lightly tossed her ceilingwards, then bringing her slowly down toward her own upturned face, kissed her and set her down. At that moment the Empress entered the room. She had no sooner seen this very natural action on the part of her own Lady-in-Waiting than she exclaimed: “The most you may do is to kiss the hand of my daughter!”
St. Petersburg is full of similar gossiping incidents concerning the Empress. Many of them are doubtless fabricated, as many such anecdotes always are concerning people who occupy conspicuous positions in the world, but the one I have just related is true, and all of these anecdotes possess the virtue that they are likely—that theymaybe true.
One concluding anecdote of the Grand Duchess Olga is vouched for. One day a professor from Moscow was giving the Grand Duchess Olga a lesson in history. A Lady-in-Waiting was sitting by, as usual, to insure that no dangerous doctrines are taught. Suddenly Olga looked up at herteacher and asked: “Who is Emperor of France?” The professor felt that this was an embarrassing question, for it was as yet far too early to undertake the explanation of a republican system of government. The Lady-in-Waiting, however, was equal to the occasion, for seeing the embarrassment of the professor, she answered, “In France the Emperor is calledPresident!”
TheGrand Duke Vladimir was wont to call the Grand Duchess Marie “The Amiable Baby,” and from all accounts she is more like what her mother was in babyhood than any of the children. Between her and her older sister Olga is a world of difference. If half the stories about her are true she is indeed the personification of sweetness and unselfishness.
Whooping cough attacked the whole nursery one spring. Curiously enough the Empress came down first and it quickly spread to all of the children. Even the nurses caught it. One day one of the nurses was holding the baby, Anastasie, on her lap. The little thing was coughing and choking toward the whoop of relief when Marie ran up close to her, and putting her face close up to her little sister’s said: “Baby, darling, cough on me.” The nurse asked her why she desired that and she answered: “I am so sorry to see my dear little sister so ill, and I thought if I could take it from her she would be better.” A charmingly generous impulse, surely!
Marie is so frequently held up as a model and an example to the other three sisters that she has beennicknamed the “stepsister.” Her amiability and sweetness are so marked that her sisters are ready to admit that she cannot be more than half one of them!
There is a pretty little story current of a nursery incident which occurred one afternoon when the little Grand Duchesses were playing house by piling up chairs. The other sisters entered into a conspiracy against Marie. “You were to be the footman and wait outside,” they told her. Marie was quite willing to be footman, but she protested against leaving the nursery and standing all by herself in the hall. But the others pushed her out and it looked as if poor little Marie would have to submit. Suddenly she dashed into the nursery, her arms filled with toys and dolls’ dresses. Rushing up to her sisters she dealt each a slap and cried out: “I’ll not be a footman. I’ll be the kind, good aunt who brings presents to the children.”
She then proceeded to distribute her gifts, kissed each of her “nieces” and sat down. The other children looked sheepishly at one another, and at last Tatiana said: “We are too cruel to poor little Marie, she really couldn’t help whipping us.” And after that Marie played with the others in the nursery.
The children are frequently admitted to where their parents are at tea time, but they are not supposed to touch any of the cakes that are served to the older people. It is difficult to prevent thisalways, for like all children, they want to sample the good things they see.
One day, when no one was noticing Marie particularly, she helped herself to some cake and began to gobble it down as fast as she could. With her mouth still full, she looked up at the nurse who came to take her and said: “Dere! I’ve eaten it all up. You tant det it now.”
The Empress felt that Marie should be punished for this, so nurse was told to take her off to bed. But the Emperor intervened, saying that he had always feared Marie would be growing wings and he was glad to see that she was only a human child after all!
I remember one occasion when the Tsaritsa was covered with confusion by the little Grand Duchess Tatiana. The Crown Prince of Siam was visiting St. Petersburg and during part of his stay, he was a guest of the Emperor and Empress, who were then occupying the Winter Palace. The dusky Prince went to pay his respects to the nursery. The Empress herself accompanied him to present the children.
On the way they met Tatiana and the Empress called to her second daughter: “Come, Tatiana, and shake hands with this gentleman.” Tatiana held off shyly, looking askance and with manifest disapproval upon the brown-skinned potentate from Siam. At last she exclaimed: “That is not a gentleman, mamma; that’s a monkey!”
The Empress flushed with mortification and retorted: “You are a monkey yourself, Tatiana.” The Prince laughed heartily at the incident and before the end of the visit of his Imperial Highness to Petersburg, he and Tatiana became fast friends.
Tatiana has always been a bright child, with an amusing, alert mind. One day she and her English governess were walking in the garden of the Winter Palace, when one of the Emperor’s beautiful great collie dogs came bounding along the path behind them. With a puppy-like caprice the dog jumped on Tatiana’s back and threw her down. As the little Grand Duchess clambered to her feet, the dog gamboled off down the path in a mad frolic with another dog. Tatiana was not hurt, but considerably frightened, and after gazing after the dogs for a moment in silence, great salt tears began to drop down her cheeks. The governess tried to comfort her by saying “Poor Sheilka, she did not mean to hurt you; she only wanted to say ‘good morning’ to you.”
Tatiana looked up at her governess and quickly replied: “Was that all? Then I don’t think she is very polite; she should have said it to my face, not to my back.”
The Grand Duchess Tatiana is one of the sweetest of children. One day when she was being got ready to go out, the governess went to get her coat to go with them. When she returned, the nurse, Mary, was shaking Tatiana. “How dare you shake Tatiana?” Miss Eager exclaimed. “You are paid to take care of her,—not to correct her.” “She ispaid?” said Tatiana in surprise. “Yes,” the governess replied, “She is paid and I, also, am paid,” at which Tatiana put her head on the shoulder of the governess and cried. “You have seen me get my money every month,” said the governess. “I always thought it was a present to you,” the child said. The governess then explained that it was necessary that she be paid, as she had no money of her own and that her way of earning money was looking after the Royal children. The next morning when the governess awoke, Tatiana was standing by her bedside and she said, “May I get into your bed?” As the little Grand Duchess cuddled down in the arms of her governess, she exclaimed, “Anyway, you are not paid for this.”
Another day, as the Royal nursery was going to the beach at Livadia after a terrible storm, the Grand Duchess Olga picked up a little dead bird which had fallen on the grass and said, “I will keep this poor, little bird forever.” The governess did not interfere but watched Olga carry it, followed by Tatiana who was sympathetically interested. The governess wondered how long the children would carry this bird before getting tired of it. Presently, Olga said, “Perhaps I am doing wrong to take this little bird away because even at this moment, God may have sent an angel for the bird and what if it is not there? I am going to put it back.” Whereupon, she retraced her steps to the spot where she had found it. The next day they were going to the beach again and they took thesame path as on the previous day in order to look for the bird. When they arrived at the spot where Olga had found and replaced it, the bird was gone. “Suppose we had taken it away!” said Olga. “Then God’s angel could not have found it.” “Oh,” replied Tatiana, “I think it would have been perfectly lovely if He had taken it out of our hands!”
Anastasie has always enjoyed the reputation of being the most mischievous of all the children. One year, when the Dowager Empress was about to celebrate her birthday, all of the Imperial children were arranging their gifts for their grandmother. Anastasie, for reasons of her own, determined not to take any part in these arrangements or to select any gift for her grandmother. She refused even to learn a piece of poetry to recite to her as all the other children did. “At all events, she will take grandmamma a bouquet of lilies of the valley tied with a bow of mauve ribbon?” “O yes, I will gather a bouquet in the morning,” replied Anastasie. The following day, all the children were dressed to go into the carriage to offer their congratulations to the Dowager Empress. Anastasie alone, appeared with empty hands. “I thought we were going to walk so that I could gather some wild flowers for grandma; now I shall have none.” “When people go to offer congratulations, they go in carriages,” their governess explained. Anastasie thereupon went to the cupboard and took a little toy from it.When the nursery arrived at the Palace, the other children gave their grandmother gifts and recited their pieces of poetry until it came Anastasie’s turn when she hung her head and all the other children turned away with shame and chagrin for their sister. “Have you nothing for grandma?” the Empress Dowager said. “Yes, I have brought this, Grandma,” Anastasie replied. “But have you made nothing for me with your own little hands?” “Nothing, Grandma,” was the answer. “Well, dear, you are a very little child,” said the Empress Dowager, “but perhaps you have learned a piece of poetry to say to me.” Anastasie looked more chagrined than ever, but, unwilling to confess her negligence, thought to deceive the Empress Dowager by repeating the following lines: