Born to Rule: Five Reigning Consorts, Granddaughters of Queen Victoria

by Julia P. Gelardi

  Thus, where Tsarina Alexandra failed and where the Empress Marie Feodor-ovna succeeded was in the ability to project themselves to the people. This exercise in projection, an element so necessary to the popularity of a monarchy, was something that eluded Alexandra throughout her life as a tsarina. Curiously, it was one quality that Alix had never acquired throughout all the years spent by Queen Victoria’s side. For Britain’s queen was a seasoned professional when it came to projecting an aura of grandeur. Indeed, it was once said that “whenever the Queen withdrew, the effect was ‘like an ascension to heaven,’ those left behind stared after her, transfigured.”25

  Tsarina Alexandra may have had a natural inability to project herself on the public stage, but even more alarming was the fact that after her few feeble attempts at being pleasant backfired, Alix practically ceased trying to please people. For no matter how hard she tried to be engaging and disarming during public appearances, one invariably came up against her glacial facade. This resulted in nearly everyone mistaking the tsarina’s fears and shyness for arrogance and boredom.

  As the relationship between the two tsarinas soured, so too did Alexandra’s standing with St. Petersburg society. To the capital’s elite, Alexandra could never be the empress that Marie was. Even more grating, however, was the young tsarina’s judgmental attitude. Reflecting Queen Victoria’s views of exacting standards of behavior, Alix felt nothing but contempt for the immorality she saw all around her and for those who pursued a licentious lifestyle, including a number of Romanovs. Queen Victoria had once pronounced a woman who painted her lips and colored her cheeks a “Jezebel.”2 Raised to respect traditional Victorian values toward matrimony and decorum, in this respect, Alexandra was very much a product of her grandmother’s teachings.27

  Many of St. Petersburg’s elite believed that their unsympathetic tsarina derived her puritanical tastes from her grandmother. In their criticism of Alexandra, there was a distinct emphasis of blame on Victoria for turning this granddaughter into a haughty and judgmental prude. “What else could we expect from Victoria’s grand-daughter?” crowed the tsarina’s critics. “Hemming red-flannel petticoats on weekdays and reading the Bible on Sundays—there’s an Englishwoman for you!” went one saying. Alexandra Feodorovna was mocked in the capital unmercifully. It was said that “the young Empress outshone even her mother’s countrymen, because they were gloomy on one day in the week and she kept gloomy on seven.”28

  That Queen Victoria had influenced Alexandra’s upright views on morality, there can be little doubt. One of the tsarina’s closest friends, Lili Dehn, concluded that “the intimacy with her grandmother unconsciously brought out the Early Victorian strain in the Empress’s character. She undoubtedly possessed this strain, as in many ways she was a typical Victorian; she shared her grandmother’s love of law and order, her faithful adherence to family, duty, her dislike of modernity”29 These ideals may have been suited to the almost bourgeois court cultivated by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, but they were certainly not suited to the more hedonistic and ostentatious court of St. Petersburg.

  Alexandra’s disdain toward Russia’s aristocrats can also partly be ascribed to the fact that she always gravitated toward those who lacked pretenses. Alexandra Feodorovna was a woman who intensely disliked play-acting. Those who could penetrate the tsarina’s protective exterior found a down-to-earth person, who delighted in domesticity filled with familiar and unpretentious individuals. This partly explains why she eventually found firm friends in such simple-minded and unambitious individuals as Anna Viroubova and Lili Dehn. Lili once ventured to ask Alexandra “why she preferred ‘homely’ friends to the more brilliant variety.” The tsarina answered that though she was “painfully shy” with strangers, she remained true to those who were her true confidantes. Displaying a lack of snobbery, something Alexandra “detested,” she told Lili: “I don’t mind whether a person is rich or poor. Once my friend, always my friend.”30 Alexandra’s affinity for people who appeared devoid of pretension goes far in explaining why she also disliked the Russian elite. They were simply too artificial and too full of intrigue for her taste. Sadly for Alix, the group wholly reciprocated her feelings.

  Every misstep acted like a lead weight, dragging the tsarina deeper into an abyss from which she could never escape. By the early 1900s, the tsarina had all but abandoned hope of ever feeling free. A contemporary of Alexandra’s, General Alexander Kireev, pitied the wife of Nicholas II, noting how, in the following exchange, Alexandra Feodorovna’s dismay was all too evident: “ ‘Poor unfortunate Tsaritsa! Naryshkin says that the young Empress commented that she and the Tsar saw few people.’ [Narishkin replied,] ‘Then you both need to see a few more people.’ Alix answered, ‘Why? So as to hear still more lies?’ “31

  Tsar Nicholas II was no less immune from his own set of deeply distressing problems. His lack of training for becoming tsar, for one, gnawed at Nicky. The fact that he was not adequately prepared for the monumental task before him was “by no means his fault.” These were the words of Grand Duchess Olga, Nicky’s sister, who admitted that though her brother “had intelligence…he was wholly ignorant about governmental matters.” Olga was correct when she pointed out: “Nicky had been trained as a soldier. He should have been taught statesmanship, and he was not.”32 Added to his unpreparedness for the task ahead was the fact that Nicky was surrounded by intimidating uncles, brothers of his father, all attuned to their nephew’s deficiencies.

  Since he was browbeaten, harangued by his own flesh and blood, and lacking any strongly identifiable group of loyal supporters and friends who could be of any real help to him, it came as no surprise that Nicholas fell under the influence of his beloved Alix. Increasingly at odds with the court’s elite, Alexandra dug in her heels and decided once and for all to shut out everything and everyone who did not please her. She did so by fleeing to Tsarskoe Selo, some fifteen miles from the capital.

  Tsarskoe Selo was an imperial village consisting of an assortment of spectacular buildings and enchanting gardens. The imperial compound has been described as an “isolated, miniature, world, as artificial and fantastic as a precisely ordered mechanical toy”33 The park itself was eighteen miles in circumference, interspersed with oaks and limes, and ornamental lakes, one of which contained “a collection of boats of all nations, varying from a Chinese sampan to an English light four-oar; from a Venetian gondola to a Brazilian catamaran.”34 Elsewhere were hanging gardens, grottoes, fountains, statues, and arches interspersed with a Dutch dairy, an English Gothic castle, and a Chinese theater and village. For all its delights, this playground of the tsars was, above all, “a magnificent symbol, a supreme gesture, of the Russian autocracy”35

  But the crowning glories of Tsarskoe Selo were two large edifices standing next to each other: the flamboyant Catherine Palace, commissioned in 1752 by the Empress Elizabeth and designed by the Italian architect Rastrelli; and the smaller, more sedate Alexander Palace, commissioned in 1792 by Catherine the Great. It was at the Alexander Palace that Alix was to know her greatest happiness and greatest sorrow for the next twenty-plus years.

  For Alix, 1896 proved to be an unforgettable year. In May, she and Nicholas traveled to the quintessential Russian city, Moscow, for their coronation. This event may have been dreaded by the perennially shy tsarina, as she had to be on public display for hours on end. But where the outgoing Crown Princess Marie of Romania was concerned, Alix’s coronation was an event she eagerly anticipated, for it would give the twenty-year-old Missy—suffering from the claustrophobic court of Carol I—the chance to breathe and enjoy life again.

  For Nicholas and Alexandra, this magnificent affair in Moscow was far more than a mere outward display or just another monarchical ceremony. As they were both deeply religious, the coronation was, in fact, a sacred event for the imperial couple. This was the moment when Alexandra, “along with her husband, would be consecrated, crowned, and revered as God’s chosen to rule Russia.”3 The venue itself rei
nforced this uniting of the couple to their office and their people. Instead of the sophisticated “European” capital, St. Petersburg, forced into existence by its Western-oriented founder, Peter the Great, the crowning of the tsar and tsarina took place in “the city of Russia’s past” whose onion domes shaped Moscow’s identity, “and even the Kremlin reflected the power of the Church, not that of the State.” “Moscow stood for Orthodox piety, for the old way of doing things, and for the time when Russians had bowed to the Church that had dominated their lives.”37 This most sacred and Russian of cities proved to be the ideal venue for Nicholas and Alexandra’s coronation.

  The ceremony took place on 26 May 1896. Alix, dressed in an elegant silver brocade gown in the Russian court style, endured the lengthy coronation, lasting well over four hours, at the Cathedral of the Assumption. Inside the cathedral, laden with jewel-studded icons, were dozens of bearded churchmen and a stirring Orthodox choir. One witness described the magnificent voices glowingly: “I have heard Russian music hundreds of times, but never, not even on Easter morning in the chapel of the Winter Palace, have I heard anything so thrilling as this.”38

  After the Mass, the investing of regalia was followed by the anointing of Nicholas and the proclamation of him as autocrat of all the Russias. Having first crowned himself with the diamond- and ruby-encrusted crown made for Catherine the Great, the tsar then placed that same crown on the head of Alexandra.

  Of the granddaughters of Queen Victoria who were to reign, only Marie of Romania witnessed Alexandra’s coronation and noted that Alexandra “was beautiful.” And whereas Nicholas II seemed to have been overwhelmed by his heavy robes and crown, Alix, “his young wife, stood steadily upright, her crown did not appear to crush her.” But “even at this supreme hour no joy seemed to uplift her, not even pride; aloof, enigmatic, she was all dignity but she shed about her no warmth. It was almost a relief to tear one’s gaze from her.”39 Another witness thought that “the Czarina was easily the most beautiful woman to be seen”; her face “upon her coronation day was charged with profound emotion.…It was like the face of a martyr walking with measured steps to her funeral pyre.”40

  But the coronation, like so much of the reign of the tsar and tsarina, was to be overshadowed by tragedy. Three days later, a vast crowd gathered at Khodynka field to celebrate. Anxious to partake of the free drinks and receive mugs emblazoned with the imperial cipher, an estimated one million people assembled. Suddenly, panic set in when rumors circulated that there might not be enough drink and mugs for all. In no time, men, women, and children were screaming helplessly as they toppled over one another. Some one thousand four hundred souls perished, leaving the tsar and tsarina horrified.

  The imperial couple lost no time in visiting the hundreds of injured. They went to hospitals, consoling people and assuring them of their desire to compensate families for their terrible losses. True to his word, the tsar paid for individual coffins out of his own pocket so that the victims would not be buried together in one mass grave, while thousands of rubles were also given to the victims’ families. But numerous unclaimed bodies had to be buried in a mass grave. There were so many victims that it took six hundred men, digging all night, to create eleven trenches, fifty yards long, to serve as the burial ground.

  Moved by what had befallen his subjects, Nicholas II was inclined to cancel further festivities and retire in prayer. Alix agreed. Years later, Marie of Romania wrote of this moment: “I remember that the poor Empress did all in her power to try and have it [a ball] put off, begged to be allowed to abstain from any festivity that night, but in vain.” However, the tsar’s formidable uncles pressured him to go to the most extravagant gala of all, the ball to be held in their honor by the French ambassador. To cancel their appearance would offend Russia’s ally, who had taken great pains and spent vast sums. Nicky reluctantly bowed to their wishes and took Alix to the ball. But their hearts were not in it. Missy, privy to the drama behind the scenes and no great fan of her cousin Alix, nevertheless wrote for posterity: “No doubt many that night considered the Empress heartless because she went to a ball on the evening of the great disaster, yet God alone knows how much rather she would have stayed at home to pray for the dead!”41 The British ambassador supported this view when he described Alexandra to Queen Victoria as appearing “in great distress, her eyes reddened by tears.”42

  After their coronation, Nicholas and Alexandra accepted an invitation to stay for ten days with Nicky’s uncle and Alix’s sister, Serge and Ella, at their country home, Ilinskoe. Also invited were the Crown Prince and Princess of Romania. It must have been striking to see Queen Victoria’s beautiful granddaughters together—Ella, Alix, and Missy—still glowing in the flush of youth. Observers would have noted the startling contrast between the last two cousins. Marie of Romania’s social skills already far exceeded those of Tsarina Alexandra. A born flirt, Missy thought nothing of galloping away on an officer of the Imperial Guards’ horse to show off her excellent riding, in spite of Nando’s protestations. It is hard to imagine Alexandra Feodorovna doing anything similar.

  Giddy with delight, Missy relished the lavish Russian hospitality. But more intoxicating was the attention she elicited everywhere she went. Together with Ducky, whose marriage was already unraveling, they were the toast of Moscow. “I was enjoying myself with all my heart,” Missy wrote years later. “In fact, the joy of it all, the glamour, the beauty, the atmosphere of constant admiration which surrounded me, had slightly gone to my head. My suppressed youth and spirits were responding almost dangerously to all this spoiling and adulation…. This was indeed an inebriating contrast to the life I led at Uncle Carol’s court.”43 Heading the list of Missy’s many admirers, which ranged from her pageboy to the hot-blooded Russian officers, was the handsome Grand Duke Boris, whose own brother, Kyril, was carrying on with Ducky. Two years Missy’s junior, Boris was not shy in letting his feelings be known to his married cousin. Missy, in turn, did nothing to discourage Boris’s attentions.

  By the middle of 1896, much to Queen Victoria’s satisfaction, preparations were well in place for a much-anticipated event, the marriage of Princess Maud of Wales to her cousin, Prince Charles of Denmark. This wedding helped lift the somber mood at court that had prevailed since the death of Princess Ena’s father.

  At her wedding, held in the Private Chapel at Buckingham Palace, Maud looked composed as she took her vows. Maud’s bridal gown of white satin was noted for its simplicity, something which she specifically desired. As befitted a British princess, the silk for the gown came from Spitalfields Market.

  Among the guests present were Constantine and Sophie of Greece. The bride’s grandmother watched the wedding from a privileged position, just behind the bridal couple. When the service ended, Maud and Charles knelt before the queen to receive her blessing, which she bestowed with a warm embrace and kiss for them both.

  The newlyweds then made their way to Appleton House on the Sandringham estate. Of all the presents Maud received for her wedding, Appleton—given by her father—was the one that was to grant her many years of happiness. Maud recounted to her comptroller, Sir Henry Knollys, how Appleton came into her possession:

  I was talking alone with my Father, and he suddenly said to me “My wedding present to you is—Appleton.” I scarcely realized all that he might mean. I was quite silent, I believe white, with surprise & pleasure. He laughed & said to me again quite plainly: “Yes. I give to you Appleton.” I went as fast as possible to find Charles, and I said to him: “Oh, is it not kind of Papa; he has given to us Appleton as a wedding present.” So you see, Appleton is really mine. Of course we both thanked him at the time.44

  Not long after her marriage, Maud was in raptures about her husband, writing how “sometimes I actually think I am dreaming and can not understand that I am married and have a husband, and even one that is so good-looking.” Not far behind in her affections was Appleton itself: “I am going to hate leaving this heavenly little place and ge
t depressed just thinking about it. We are happy and my C. behaves like a real Angel to me, so nice and selfless, we have not had one quarrel so far!, only small discussions once in a while.”45

  It was to Appleton that Maud would find herself gravitating. In some respects, she would come to view Appleton House as her one true home, as it was located in the country she loved most and in the county—Norfolk—she liked best. In fact, the new Princess Charles of Denmark was so fond of Sandringham—and England—that she managed to postpone her departure for Denmark time and time again.

  Crown Princess Sophie of Greece also relished her visits to England. Part of the thrill stemmed from Sophie’s delight at visiting English department stores, famed for their marvelous stocks. As Sophie was in the midst of building a bigger home in Athens as well as a cottage in the English style on the grounds of Tatoi, the trip to London gave her a chance to look at possible ideas for her two new homes. “We spent I don’t know how many hours at Maple & Liberty!” she exclaimed from England to her mother. “I screamed at the things to Tino’s horror, but they were too lovely! No those shops I go mad in them! I would be ruined if I lived here longer!—Divine shops!”

  Maud, still nicely ensconced at Sandringham in August, showed little sign of moving. But by December, things had come to a head. Maud conceded at last and left with Charles for Copenhagen.