the singing of the funeral dirge, ‘Eternal Memory’, and the imperial grenadiers took their places around the coffin. One by one, each member of the family filed past,
bending over to kiss the black, wizened face of the dead tsar with its hint of a smile. Wincing, Alix limped along, placing her reverent kiss on the stinking, shrivelled cheek.
It was an unpleasant duty, kissing the corpse, but Russian custom required it of her. She was after all about to become tsarina, and she had to follow the traditions of her adopted country.
Solemnly, dutifully, and with only a slight feeling of chill and pain, Alix stood holding Nicky’s unsteady arm as the grenadiers slowly lowered the heavy coffin into its final resting
place.
8
A soft blanket of new snow had cleansed Petersburg, covering every dirty cornice and grimy windowsill, every roof, turret and chimney with a thick
layer of gleaming whiteness. Above the city the skies were dull grey, threatening more snow, and the air was very cold, but along the streets, and especially along Nevsky Prospekt, thousands of
black-clad Petersburgers waited eagerly. For this was the new tsar’s wedding day, and they looked forward to the spectacle that always accompanied such imperial occasions. By eleven
o’clock the streets were choked with onlookers, and as each golden coach carrying wedding guests passed, making its slow way to the Winter Palace, the dark throng had to part to allow the
horses to proceed.
All Petersburg was still in mourning for the late tsar, and many in the crowd, wanting a memento of his passing, had purchased a cheap reproduction of a painting commemorating his death. It
showed the tall, broad-shouldered tsar, in uniform, ascending into heaven, borne aloft by four winged angels, his arm raised as if in a final salute to his people. Another angel bore his crown. His
weeping widow clung to his ascending figure. The painting captured the prevailing mood, which was one of sorrow and desolation. Yet on this day the public grief was dispelled somewhat by the
excitement of the wedding, and the gossip about the ‘Funeral Bride’, Tsarina Alexandra, the German princess who was rumoured to be beautiful and suspected, because of the known weakness
of Tsar Nicholas, of being ambitious for power.
The grand salons of the Winter Palace too were abuzz with rumour, for most of the thousands of aristocrats and dignitaries gatheringthere had never seen the new tsarina
and knew of her only through the bits of gossip they had heard. In the huge Hall of the Armorial Bearings, the women of Petersburg society had assembled, wearing traditional Russian caftans of
heavy embroidered cloth and tall velvet headdresses with pearls and long white veils; they stood, uncomfortable in their finery, waiting for the bride and groom to pass through on their way to the
wedding chamber. The Hall of the Field Marshals too was crowded with guests, Tartar merchants in long silk jackets vivid with colour, mayors and town councillors, journalists representing not only
the Petersburg papers but the major papers of foreign capitals. The largest of the immense halls, the Hall of Nicholas I, was full of military officers, while the Concert Hall contained the leading
officials of the imperial household, the Dames de Portrait or bedchamber women of the empress, and the maids of honour and ladies-in-waiting of the Dowager Empress and Empress Alexandra.
The new empress’s Russian ladies were especially curious about her, and the chief waiting maid, Martha Mouchanow, wrote down her initial view of her new mistress.
‘My first impression was that of a tall, slight girl, with straight long features, a classical profile, and a lovely figure,’ she wrote. ‘She had fair hair that shone like gold
in the sun, whilst at times it appeared quite dark, according to the light which played upon it.’
‘I remember thinking that I had never yet seen anyone more beautiful than this girl,’ Mouchanow
bending over to kiss the black, wizened face of the dead tsar with its hint of a smile. Wincing, Alix limped along, placing her reverent kiss on the stinking, shrivelled cheek.
It was an unpleasant duty, kissing the corpse, but Russian custom required it of her. She was after all about to become tsarina, and she had to follow the traditions of her adopted country.
Solemnly, dutifully, and with only a slight feeling of chill and pain, Alix stood holding Nicky’s unsteady arm as the grenadiers slowly lowered the heavy coffin into its final resting
place.
8
A soft blanket of new snow had cleansed Petersburg, covering every dirty cornice and grimy windowsill, every roof, turret and chimney with a thick
layer of gleaming whiteness. Above the city the skies were dull grey, threatening more snow, and the air was very cold, but along the streets, and especially along Nevsky Prospekt, thousands of
black-clad Petersburgers waited eagerly. For this was the new tsar’s wedding day, and they looked forward to the spectacle that always accompanied such imperial occasions. By eleven
o’clock the streets were choked with onlookers, and as each golden coach carrying wedding guests passed, making its slow way to the Winter Palace, the dark throng had to part to allow the
horses to proceed.
All Petersburg was still in mourning for the late tsar, and many in the crowd, wanting a memento of his passing, had purchased a cheap reproduction of a painting commemorating his death. It
showed the tall, broad-shouldered tsar, in uniform, ascending into heaven, borne aloft by four winged angels, his arm raised as if in a final salute to his people. Another angel bore his crown. His
weeping widow clung to his ascending figure. The painting captured the prevailing mood, which was one of sorrow and desolation. Yet on this day the public grief was dispelled somewhat by the
excitement of the wedding, and the gossip about the ‘Funeral Bride’, Tsarina Alexandra, the German princess who was rumoured to be beautiful and suspected, because of the known weakness
of Tsar Nicholas, of being ambitious for power.
The grand salons of the Winter Palace too were abuzz with rumour, for most of the thousands of aristocrats and dignitaries gatheringthere had never seen the new tsarina
and knew of her only through the bits of gossip they had heard. In the huge Hall of the Armorial Bearings, the women of Petersburg society had assembled, wearing traditional Russian caftans of
heavy embroidered cloth and tall velvet headdresses with pearls and long white veils; they stood, uncomfortable in their finery, waiting for the bride and groom to pass through on their way to the
wedding chamber. The Hall of the Field Marshals too was crowded with guests, Tartar merchants in long silk jackets vivid with colour, mayors and town councillors, journalists representing not only
the Petersburg papers but the major papers of foreign capitals. The largest of the immense halls, the Hall of Nicholas I, was full of military officers, while the Concert Hall contained the leading
officials of the imperial household, the Dames de Portrait or bedchamber women of the empress, and the maids of honour and ladies-in-waiting of the Dowager Empress and Empress Alexandra.
The new empress’s Russian ladies were especially curious about her, and the chief waiting maid, Martha Mouchanow, wrote down her initial view of her new mistress.
‘My first impression was that of a tall, slight girl, with straight long features, a classical profile, and a lovely figure,’ she wrote. ‘She had fair hair that shone like gold
in the sun, whilst at times it appeared quite dark, according to the light which played upon it.’
‘I remember thinking that I had never yet seen anyone more beautiful than this girl,’ Mouchanow
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