Thirteen Years at the Russian Court: A Personal Record of the Last Years and Death of the Czar Nicholas II. and his Family

IN the autumn of 1904 I accepted a proposal which had been made to me to go to Duke Sergius of Leuchtenberg as French professor.

My pupil’s father, Duke George of Leuchtenberg, was the grandson of Eugène de Beauharnais; through his mother, the Grand-Duchess Marie Nicolaïevna, daughter of Nicholas I., he was a cousin of the Czar Nicholas II.

At the time the family were at the small estate they possessed on the shores of the Black Sea. They spent the whole winter there. It was there that we were surprised by the tragic events of the spring of 1905 and passed through many a poignant hour owing to the revolt of the Black Sea Fleet, the bombardment of the coast, the series of pogroms, and the violent acts of repression which followed. From the very start Russia showed herself to me under a terrible and menacing aspect, a presage of the horrors and sufferings she had in store for me.

At the beginning of June the family took up their residence in the attractive Villa Sergievskaïa Datcha, which the Duke possessed at Peterhof. The contrast was most striking as we left the barren coast of the southern Crimea, with its little Tatar villages snuggling in the mountains and its dusty cypresses, for the splendid forests and delicious fresh breezes of the shores of the Gulf of Finland.

Peterhof had been the favourite residence of its founder, Peter the Great. It was there that he rested from the exhausting work of building St. Petersburg, the city which at his command rose from the marshes at the mouth of the Neva as if by enchantment—a city destined to rival the great European capitals.

Everything about Peterhof recalls its creator. First of all there is Marly in which he resided for some time—a “maisonnette” out in the water on an isthmus of land separating two great lakes. Then comes the Hermitage, by the shores of the gulf where he liked to treat his helpers to banquets where the wine flowed freely. There is Monplaisir, a building in the Dutch style with a terrace sheer above the sea. It was his favourite residence. How curious that this “landsman” loved the sea so much! Last comes the Great Palace, which, with its lakes and the superb views in its park, he meant to rival the splendours of Versailles.

All these buildings, with the exception of the Great Palace, produce the impression of those abandoned, empty edifices which memories of the past alone can bring to life.

The Czar Nicholas II. had inherited his ancestors’ preference for this delicious spot, and every summer he brought his family to the little Alexandria Cottage in the centre of a wooded park which sheltered it from prying eyes.

The Duke of Leuchtenberg’s family spent the entire summer of 1905 at Peterhof. Intercourse between Alexandria and Sergievskaïa Datcha was lively, for the Czarina and the Duchess of Leuchtenberg were on terms of the closest friendship. I was thus able to get occasional glimpses of the members of the royal family.

When my time ran out it was suggested that I should stay on as tutor to my pupil and at the same time teach French to the Grand-Duchesses Olga Nicolaïevna and Tatiana Nicolaïevna, the two elder daughters of the Czar Nicholas II. I agreed, and after a short visit to Switzerland I returned to Peterhof in the early days of September. A few weeks later I took up my new duties at the Imperial Court.

On the day appointed for my first lesson a royal carriage came to take me to Alexandria Cottage, where the Czar and his family were residing. Yet in spite of the liveried coachman, the Imperial arms on the panels, and the orders with regard to my arrival which had no doubt been given, I learned to my cost that it was no easy task to enter the residence of Their Majesties. I was stopped at the park gates, and there were several minutes of discussion before I was allowed to go in. On turning a corner I soon observed two small brick buildings connected by a covered bridge. If the carriage had not stopped I should not have known I had arrived at my destination.

I was taken up to a small room, soberly furnished in the English style, on the second storey. The door opened and the Czarina came in, holding her daughters Olga and Tatiana by the hand. After a few pleasant remarks she sat down at the table and invited me to take a place opposite her. The children sat at each end.

The Czarina was still a beautiful woman at that time. She was tall and slender and carried herself superbly. But all this ceased to count the moment one looked into her eyes—those speaking, grey-blue eyes which mirrored the emotions of a sensitive soul.

Olga, the eldest of the Grand-Duchesses, was a girl of ten, very fair, and with sparkling, mischievous eyes and a slightly retroussé nose. She examined me with a look which seemed from the first moment to be searching for the weak point in my armour, but there was something so pure and frank about the child that one liked her straight off.

The second girl, Tatiana, was eight and a half. She had auburn hair and was prettier than her sister, but gave one the impression of being less transparent, frank, and spontaneous.

The lesson began. I was amazed, even embarrassed, by the very simplicity of a scene I had anticipated would be quite different. The Czarina followed everything I said very closely. I distinctly felt that I was not so much giving a lesson as undergoing an examination. The contrast between anticipation and reality quite disconcerted me. To crown my discomfort, I had had an idea that my pupils were much more advanced than they actually were. I had selected certain exercises, but they proved far too difficult. The lesson I had prepared was useless, and I had to improvise and resort to expedients. At length, to my great relief, the clock struck the hour and put an end to my ordeal.