A Romanov Eugene Onegin: Ella, Nicholas, and a Staged Memory
In the winter of 1890, St. Petersburg’s aristocratic circles witnessed a curious experiment in art and society: a staged performance of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin mounted not in a professional theatre, but within the intimate, glittering world of the Russian court. Among the performers was the young Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna — “Ella” - who had only recently joined the Romanov family through her marriage to Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich. Opposite her stood the Tsarevich, Nicholas Alexandrovich, heir to the throne and future Tsar Nicholas II.
The production was organized by Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich (“KR”), poet, playwright, and diarist, whose entries allow us a glimpse behind the curtain.
Konstantin Konstantinovich describes in his diary the lively preparations, the excitement of the young performers, and the blending of family intimacy with cultural ambition:
“The rehearsal has brought much joy. All of us are carried away by Pushkin’s words, and there is something touching in the sight of the Tsarevich himself speaking the verses with simplicity and sincerity. Ella, in her part, is radiant — her quiet dignity and purity give her Tatiana a natural grace. One forgets that this is merely an amateur performance.”
Pushkin’s verses, deeply familiar to every educated Russian, were given fresh life when spoken by members of the imperial family themselves. For the court audience, this was no mere entertainment: it was a symbolic blending of national literature, dynastic ritual, and personal sentiment.
A cozy makeshift stage in the apartment of Ella’s lady-in-waiting, Kozlyaninova. They rehearsed in secret, unbeknownst to Grand Duke Sergei, Ella’s husband, and made their debut only when everything was ready.
From Nicholas’s 1890 diary:
13 February — “I began learning my small part from Eugene Onegin for tiny Ella’s play.”
18 February — Ella wrote to the Tsarevich: “My dear Niki! Can you come today at 11:30 so we can rehearse properly? Yesterday I read my part, rehearsed it extensively, and I think we will succeed. Loving you, Ella. Aunt (Tatiana).”
Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich’s diary entry for February 27, reads:
“I already knew - via Ella that she had quietly learned Tatiana’s final monologue from her husband [Sergei], and that the Tsarevich had taken on the role of Onegin. In Ella’s lady’s rooms, Kozlyaninova’s, a little stage was set up, and they gathered there, without Sergei’s knowledge, to rehearse. When all was ready, they performed two scenes from Eugene Onegin before Sergei... The curtain rose. The stage was a small garden with a bench; Ella ran out, followed by Niki. Both wore early 19th-century costumes, very elegantly dressed. The Tsarevich sweetly and clearly spoke his monologue: ‘You wrote to me, do not deny it!’ Only his voice betrayed how shy he was. Then the scene turned into Tatiana’s room. Ella spoke her monologue with great feeling. She had not even been in Russia six years, and already she appeared on stage. In earlier times, this would not have happened. Of course, her pronunciation gave her away, but it was redeemed by the depth of her feeling in the performance.”
Ella’s role was Tatiana, the heroine whose letter scene is one of the most cherished passages of Russian literature. Konstantin’s diary notes reveal his admiration for her natural delivery:
“Ella read Tatiana’s words with sincerity. There was no theatrical affectation; instead she gave the impression of one truly confessing, tender yet restrained. It moved many to silence.”
To see Elisabeth - so recently transplanted from the world of German courts, and often remembered for her serene beauty and devoutness - inhabit Tatiana’s vulnerability was something unforgettable for those present.
The heir to the throne, Nicholas Alexandrovich, took on the role of Lensky, the poet doomed by a fatal duel. Konstantin was struck by his sincerity:
“Nicky recited Lensky’s verses with touching earnestness. He is no actor, yet in his simple, heartfelt way he became the character, speaking of youthful hopes and the bitterness of betrayal. One saw not the future emperor but a young man open to poetry and tragedy.
“After the performance, there was much laughter, embraces, and a sense of unity. We felt as though Pushkin himself had visited our gathering, and that art had for a moment lifted us out of ordinary cares. The Emperor and Empress expressed warm words. It was, truly, a family celebration of our Russian poet.”
For Nicholas himself, who was by nature shy and reserved, the role was a rare chance at emotional expression before a sympathetic audience.
Shortly afterward, Grand Duchess Elisabeth wrote to Nicholas, reflecting not only on the play but on their bond as cousins and fellow participants:
“My dear Nicky,
Yesterday remains in my heart as a precious memory. To stand beside you and speak Pushkin’s lines, to share in such a beautiful work - it is something I shall not forget. You were wonderful in Lensky’s part, so true and sincere. I think everyone felt it.
For myself, I confess I was a little shy, but the kindness of your gaze gave me courage.
Ever your loving cousin,
Ella.”
Finally, Ella’s letters indicate that the production was such a success that further stagings took place. From her correspondence with Nicholas:
After 28 February:“My dear Eugene Onegin! Will you be able to play on Friday at 4:30 in our final performance, since no other day is possible, and I must know now because of invitations… Since Masha Vasilchikova leaves early on Sunday, when shall we go to be photographed? She always does my hair, so it would be more convenient, if possible, on Saturday.”
1 March:“My dear Niki! Tomorrow, alas, is our final performance, and on Saturday at 11 in the morning we go for photographs at Bergamasco’s.”
