JOURNEYS TO THE CRIMEA AND RUMANIA—PRESIDENT POINCARé’S VISIT—DECLARATION OF WAR BY GERMANY (APRIL-JULY, 1914)
 
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IN the spring of 1914 the Imperial family went to the Crimea, as in preceding years. We arrived at Livadia on April 13th, a bright, sunny day. In fact, we were almost dazzled by the sunshine, which bathed the high, steep cliffs, the little Tartar villages half buried in the bare sides of the mountains, and the staring white mosques which stood out sharply against the old cypresses in the cemeteries. The contrast with the landscapes we had just left was so striking that, although this new country was familiar, it seemed quite fairylike and unreal in its wondrous beauty under this halo of sunshine.
These spring days in the Crimea were a delicious relief after the interminable St. Petersburg winter, and we looked forward to them months before they came.
On the excuse of settling in, we all took holiday the first few days, and used it to enjoy this marvel of nature to the full. Then regular lessons were resumed. My colleague, M. Petroff, accompanied us as before.
Alexis Nicola?evitch’s health had improved in recent months; he had grown a good deal, and he looked so well that we were all in high spirits.{92}
On May 8th the Czar, wishing to give his son a treat, decided that we should take advantage of a day which promised to be particularly sunny to pay a visit to the “Red Rock.” We left in a car, the party comprising the Czar, the Czarevitch, an officer from the Standard, and myself. The sailor Derevenko and the cossack on duty followed in another car. We gradually ascended the slopes of the Jaila mountains through beautiful forests of pine-trees, whose enormous trunks rose tall and majestic to the leafy dome above them. We soon reached the end of our journey—a huge rock sheer above the valley, and looking as if it had grown rusty in the course of ages.
The day was so fine that the Czar decided to continue the drive. We descended the northern slopes of the Jaila mountains. There was still plenty of snow about, and Alexis Nicola?evitch had huge fun sliding on it. He ran round us, skipping about, rolling in the snow and picking himself up, only to fall again a few seconds later. It seemed as if his lively nature and joie de vivre had never been displayed to better advantage before. The Czar watched his son’s frolics with obvious pleasure. You could see how happy he was to realise that the boy had recovered the health and strength of which he had been deprived so long. Yet he was still haunted by the fear of accidents, and every now and then he intervened to moderate his transports. Although he never so much as referred to the disease to which the Heir was a victim, it caused him perpetual anxiety and concern.
The day drew to a close, and we were quite sorry to have to start back. The Czar was in high spirits during the drive. We had an impression that this holiday devoted to his son had been a tremendous pleasure to him. For a few hours he had escaped from his Imperial duties and the attentions, exquisitely
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EXCURSION TO THE “RED ROCK” ON MAY 8TH. (THE CRIMEA, SPRING OF 1914.)
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THE FOUR GRAND-DUCHESSES (LEFT TO RIGHT: ANASTASIE, OLGA, TATIANA, AND MARIE). STANDARD, 1914.
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polite though they were, of those about him. Thanks to the fact that this little trip had been quite impromptu, he had even dodged the vigilant care of the palace police, a thing he felt was always about him (though this duty was performed in the discreetest possible manner), and hated thoroughly. For once, at any rate, he had been able to live like an ordinary mortal. He seemed rested and relieved.
In ordinary times the Czar did not see much of his children. His work and the demands of Court life prevented him from giving them as much time as he would have wished. He had handed over their bringing-up entirely to the Czarina, and in the short time he spent with them in family intimacy he liked to enjoy their company without restraint and with a mind free from all cares. At such times he wanted to be free of the immense burden of responsibility upon his shoulders. He wanted to be simply the father and forget that he was the Czar.
Nothing of any importance occurred to break the monotony of our life during the following weeks.
About the end of May there were rumours at Court that the Grand-Duchess Olga Nicola?evna was about to be betrothed to Prince Carol of Rumania.[18] She was then eighteen and a half. The parents on both sides seemed in favour of the match, which was very desirable at that moment on political grounds also. I knew that M. Sazonoff, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, was doing his utmost to bring about the betrothal and that the final arrangements were to be made during a visit which the Russian Imperial family were to pay to Rumania in the immediate future.
One day at the beginning of June when I was alone with Olga Nicola?evna she suddenly asked me a question with that{94} confident and disingenuous frankness which was all her own and the legacy of the relations which had been established between us when she was quite a little girl:
“Tell me the truth, monsieur: do you know why we are going to Rumania?”
In some confusion I replied:
“I believe it’s a courtesy visit. The Czar is going to return the visit the King of Rumania paid him some time back.”
“Oh, that’s the official reason ... but what’s the real reason? I know you are not supposed to know, but I’m sure everyone is talking about it and that you know it....”
As I nodded in assent, she added:
“All right! But if I don’t wish it, it won’t happen. Papa has promised not to make me ... and I don’t want to leave Russia.”
“But you could come back as often as you like.”
“I should still be a foreigner in my own country. I’m a Russian, and mean to remain a Russian!”
On June 13th we embarked on the Imperial yacht Standard at Yalta, and the next morning we arrived at Constanza, the great Rumanian port on the Black Sea where the celebrations were to take place. On the quay a company of infantry with its colours and band received us with military honours, while a battery of artillery posted on the hill above the fort gave us the prescribed salute. All the ships in the harbour had their flags out.
Their Majesties were received by the old King Carol, Queen Elizabeth (“Carmen Sylva”), and the princes and princesses of the royal family. After the customary presentations we went to the Cathedral, where a Te Deum was celebrated by the Bishop of the Lower Danube. At one o’clock the members of{95} the two families took luncheon together privately, while the suite were the guests of the President of the Council of Ministers. The royal luncheon was served in the pavilion which “Carmen Sylva” had had built at the pierhead. It was one of her favourite residences, and she spent a considerable part of every year there. She was fond of sitting for hours, “listening to the sea,” on the terrace which seemed suspended between the sky and the waves, where the great sea-birds only could break in on her solitude.
In the afternoon Their Majesties gave an At Home on board the Standard and then attended a great review.
At eight o’clock in the evening we all assembled for the gala banquet, which was served in a beautiful room built for the purpose. It was certainly charmingly decorated, with its ceiling and walls of white stucco sown with little electric lamps most tastefully disposed and its palms and plants and profusion of well-arranged flowers. The whole thing was a blend of colour and line which was highly pleasing to the eye.
The Czar, with Queen Elizabeth on one side and Princess Marie[19] on the other, was in the centre of a long table at which eighty-four guests were seated. The Czarina sat opposite him, between King Carol and Prince Ferdinand.[20] Olga Nicola?evna was next to Prince Carol, and replied with her usual natural charm to his questions. The three other Grand-Duchesses, who found it none too easy to conceal their boredom on such occas............