Royal Romances of To-day

by Kellogg Durland

In no sense can any, or all of these enterprises be considered a great work, but they are all characteristic of the Tsaritsa. It is indicative of simple, human sympathies, it is quiet and unostentatious—almost timidly so—but the idea underlying it all is real.

The court of Nicholas II does not entertain nearly so frequently nor so lavishly as the preceding Courts of the last hundred years. This is partly owing to the temperament of the present Tsar, and the retiring characteristic of the Tsaritsa, and also because of the troubled and distraught condition of the Empire during the last several years. Several court balls each winter are required, however, and on these occasions the Tsaritsa is always a conspicuous figure. Her own enjoyment at these Royal functions may well be questioned. In the first place, there are certain aged ministers, ambassadors and potentates with whom she must dance. Doubtless these eminent worthies are frequently endowed with great dignity, but statesmanship and imposing presence do not make up for grace and ease in tripping figures to light music. And if, perchance, the Tsaritsa would waltz with a brilliant young officer, or charming courtier, all the other dancers must at once stop and clear the floor for the Empress and her favoured partner. To be thus the observed of all observers cannot be otherwise than trying to one of so modest and retiring a nature.

Years before, when the Tsaritsa was still only Princess Alix of Hesse, she had visited St. Petersburg as the guest of her sister Elizabeth, who had married the Grand Duke Sergius. During one of the dances at a certain ball given during this visit, Princess Alix slipped on the polished floor and fell. Her partner, as well as a number of young officers, sprang toward her to assist her to her feet, but the Grand Duke chanced to be near and he, too, sprang to her assistance. Instantly the embarrassed partner and other officers stepped back. The privilege of assisting the confused and blushing Princess was the prerogative of the Grand Duke because of his exalted position!

When the Tsaritsa does participate in a public function she does it with a stateliness and grace that commands respect, whatever of coldness her manner may suggest.

I had the privilege of being near to her on one of these occasions. It was the 10th day of May, 1906, in the Throne Room of the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg.

The Emperor had called together the First Duma and the members of this extraordinary body, together with the council of Empire and the entire Court, were assembled to hear the speech from the Throne. It was the first time in sixteen months that the Royal Family had visited the capital. These sixteen months had been characterised by almost continuous revolutionary activity, successive mutinies in the army and navy, general strikes and disturbances of every description. There was wide speculation as to the probable outcome of this meeting between the Tsar and the representatives of the people. “To us,” remarked one of the Ladies of Honour attached to the Empress, “to us, it is like letting the Revolution into the Palace”—this reception of the elected deputies of the people! Members of the court were fearful lest the Tsar would never return from the Throne Room. Many, if not most of the nobles present, went in fear and trembling, and went because they had been commanded by the Emperor and for no other reason.

I met one well known Prince the morning of that day and he immediately bade me congratulate him, as he had been excused from appearing at the function.

When the music of the National Anthem was heard, announcing the approach of the Royal party the atmosphere of the Throne Room became so tense that it was painful. Not one person in the room dared think what the next minute might bring forth! When the Tsar and the Grand Dukes and the Empress and the Dowager Empress and the Grand Duchesses were all assembled before the richly attired Metropolitans and high priests for the interminable preliminary blessings, the slightest sound echoed throughout the room, so still and strained was every human being in the room. The nervousness of the Tsar was apparent to all. The agitation of the Grand Dukes was laughable, especially the manifestations of their fear in their repeated and excited crossing of themselves. Even correspondents, schooled and trained to recklessness in all kinds of danger and calm to the point of being blase in the face of any situation, breathed hard and showed the terrible strain and tension of the minutes.

The Empresses alone appeared in full command of every nerve and muscle. I looked upon the Tsaritsa in silent admiration. The picture of her strong, immovable figure is imaged forever upon my memory. The fluttering of a glove or a handkerchief from the balcony to the floor would surely have upset the entire assemblage in spite of its magnificent show of military symbols, buttons, medals and gold and silver trappings. The thought came to me there, and I have recalled it many times since, had such an untoward incident occurred the Tsaritsa alone, or at least, the Empresses alone, would have stood stolid. The exquisite poise and complete possession of the Tsaritsa commanded absolute admiration. Cold and indifferent she may be toward the people of her court, but on an occasion like this she certainly acquits herself with rare credit. At all times a magnificent woman to look upon, tall, statuesque, imposing, imperial, she never appeared to better advantage than on this occasion.

With her, somewhat back in the procession were the four older children of the Tsar and Tsaritsa—Olga, Tatiana, Marie and Anastasie. These little girls bear the title of Grand Duchess, and in them has the life of the Tsaritsa long been centred. Presently I shall have a number of stories to tell of their nursery days. As we go on we shall learn how completely the life and time of the Tsaritsa have been taken up with her children and their home and family life.