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 has come 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 oldish solemnity, ‘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. You must put 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.