went on. ‘The general impression she produced was that of a superb woman.’
But the lovely face of the empress was flawed, Mouchanow thought, by the ‘determined expression’ of her mouth, set in a hard unpleasant line. 1
The grim set of Alix’s small mouth on her wedding day was a symptom of the strain she was under. She had kept her familiar German maids around her for as long as she could, but on her
wedding day the Germans withdrew and were replaced by an entirely new staff of Russian personal servants, chosen by Minnie, and a new and very large household staff. The eight Russian waiting
maids, themselves nervous, no doubt curious, and unaccustomed to theformality their German predecessors had observed, must have made Alix uncomfortable as they went about
the task of helping her dress and prepare herself for her wedding.
‘It was very difficult for the servants to attend to the many details accompanying a complicated toilette,’ Mouchanow wrote, ‘and to make decisions for an utter
stranger.’ 2 To Alix, of course, everything was strange: the enormous palace with its hundreds of outsize rooms, gilded walls and costly
furnishings; the elaborate protocol of the imperial court; the lavishness of everything, from her extensive trousseau to the wedding gifts that filled several large rooms; even the Russian
language, which she was learning but which was still largely foreign to her. She was nervous, isolated, in dread of committing some fatal faux pas that would put her forever at odds with her new
household.
Alix had come to the palace by coach early in the morning from Serge’s mansion, and had been escorted to the room set aside for the dressing of imperial brides. Awaiting her there were her
new Russian maids and all of her mother-in-law’s waiting ladies, a keen-eyed, chilling reception line, all of the women outwardly deferential but inwardly full of sharp scrutiny. Under their
exceptionally watchful eyes the tsarina had to make her complicated toilette, putting on her lacy undergarments, her court dress of silver tissue with its ermine-trimmed, eight-foot-long train, her
long diamond earrings and splendid necklace, finally her shining mantle of cloth of gold.
Every garment, every jewel was handed to her with great solemnity on a tray or a red velvet cushion, a ceremonious silence prevailing. Around her was displayed the venerable gold toilette
service that had belonged to the Empress Anna, and that had been used by every subsequent empress and grand duchess. It was as if her every gesture, her every movement was charged with symbolic
significance.
One of the imperial dressers approached Minnie with the dazzling, diamond-studded crown on its velvet cushion. By custom the dowager empress placed the crown on the new empress’s head at
the climax of the garbing ceremony, then the hairdresser arranged the coiffure and fixed the bridal veil in place.
But when it was time for the hairdresser to come forward, he could not be found. The waiting maids sent the imperial footmen and valets to look for him. After a delay
they reported that he was nowhere in the palace. Now a susurration arose in the garbing room, a treble murmuring. The bride could not go to her wedding without her crown and veil, and no one but
the hairdresser could fasten them on properly. What would happen? Would there be no wedding?
The women began circling Alix, who was seated before the huge gold-framed mirror, waiting for the final touches to be added to her coiffure. She said little, she maintained an almost unnatural
calm. More tense minutes passed. The wedding was to begin at eleven-thirty, but the time came and was gone. No one seemed to know what to do, or how to find the one man without whom the bride could
not be wedded to her groom.
Out in the grand salons, the guests and dignitaries began to fidget and to wonder what was happening. Watches were consulted, eyebrows raised. Had there been a sudden change of plan?
But the lovely face of the empress was flawed, Mouchanow thought, by the ‘determined expression’ of her mouth, set in a hard unpleasant line. 1
The grim set of Alix’s small mouth on her wedding day was a symptom of the strain she was under. She had kept her familiar German maids around her for as long as she could, but on her
wedding day the Germans withdrew and were replaced by an entirely new staff of Russian personal servants, chosen by Minnie, and a new and very large household staff. The eight Russian waiting
maids, themselves nervous, no doubt curious, and unaccustomed to theformality their German predecessors had observed, must have made Alix uncomfortable as they went about
the task of helping her dress and prepare herself for her wedding.
‘It was very difficult for the servants to attend to the many details accompanying a complicated toilette,’ Mouchanow wrote, ‘and to make decisions for an utter
stranger.’ 2 To Alix, of course, everything was strange: the enormous palace with its hundreds of outsize rooms, gilded walls and costly
furnishings; the elaborate protocol of the imperial court; the lavishness of everything, from her extensive trousseau to the wedding gifts that filled several large rooms; even the Russian
language, which she was learning but which was still largely foreign to her. She was nervous, isolated, in dread of committing some fatal faux pas that would put her forever at odds with her new
household.
Alix had come to the palace by coach early in the morning from Serge’s mansion, and had been escorted to the room set aside for the dressing of imperial brides. Awaiting her there were her
new Russian maids and all of her mother-in-law’s waiting ladies, a keen-eyed, chilling reception line, all of the women outwardly deferential but inwardly full of sharp scrutiny. Under their
exceptionally watchful eyes the tsarina had to make her complicated toilette, putting on her lacy undergarments, her court dress of silver tissue with its ermine-trimmed, eight-foot-long train, her
long diamond earrings and splendid necklace, finally her shining mantle of cloth of gold.
Every garment, every jewel was handed to her with great solemnity on a tray or a red velvet cushion, a ceremonious silence prevailing. Around her was displayed the venerable gold toilette
service that had belonged to the Empress Anna, and that had been used by every subsequent empress and grand duchess. It was as if her every gesture, her every movement was charged with symbolic
significance.
One of the imperial dressers approached Minnie with the dazzling, diamond-studded crown on its velvet cushion. By custom the dowager empress placed the crown on the new empress’s head at
the climax of the garbing ceremony, then the hairdresser arranged the coiffure and fixed the bridal veil in place.
But when it was time for the hairdresser to come forward, he could not be found. The waiting maids sent the imperial footmen and valets to look for him. After a delay
they reported that he was nowhere in the palace. Now a susurration arose in the garbing room, a treble murmuring. The bride could not go to her wedding without her crown and veil, and no one but
the hairdresser could fasten them on properly. What would happen? Would there be no wedding?
The women began circling Alix, who was seated before the huge gold-framed mirror, waiting for the final touches to be added to her coiffure. She said little, she maintained an almost unnatural
calm. More tense minutes passed. The wedding was to begin at eleven-thirty, but the time came and was gone. No one seemed to know what to do, or how to find the one man without whom the bride could
not be wedded to her groom.
Out in the grand salons, the guests and dignitaries began to fidget and to wonder what was happening. Watches were consulted, eyebrows raised. Had there been a sudden change of plan?
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