Thanks, everyone, for your positive comments and support for my writing! This week, I wanted to talk about Hélène’s early years in Russia. She arrived in 1909, when the Romanov family had been ruling the country for almost 300 years, there was relative peace, and Saint-Pétersbourg was at its political and cultural height. The city had been built by Peter the Great and his heirs beginning in the late 1600’s in an Italian architectural style and with its multiple canals was dubbed the “Venice of the North”, and “Russia’s Window on Europe”. Culturally, the sophisticated city boasted world-renowned opera and ballet companies, orchestras, composers, and writers. French was the language of the Imperial family and upper class, and 12,000 French nationals were living in Russia. Even clothing and furnishings were ordered from Paris. At the time, it was very acceptable for a young woman to travel from France to Russia by herself to seek employment and adventure. What a perfect environment and opportunity for Hélène: aside from leaving her family in France, Saint-Pétersbourg must have felt like home with an exotic twist.
Five years later, World War 1 changed everything. The war exacerbated problems that had been brewing for several decades in Russia: abysmal working conditions in factories, suppression of land reform, and a relatively weak Czar Nicholas II who seemed incapable of creating a constitutional monarchy that would help the country move into the 20th century. Russia quickly became bogged down by the war, with food and fuel shortages, and rampant inflation crippling its inhabitants. Conditions deteriorated to the point of famine, and the seeds were laid for the Russian Revolution.
The events of 1914 turned Hélène’s life upside down: the family she was working with as a governess boarded up their house and moved to their country estate in the Crimea. She was suddenly out of a job, and forced to spend her carefully-accumulated and now rapidly-deteriorating savings on food and lodging. In addition, she had a health issue that required surgery in December. But the worst situation was that her daughter, Lili, living with the Tellier family, was now caught in the part of France that had been occupied by Germany from the beginning of the war.
And here is where, I think, Hélène especially showed her strength of spirit and resilience. She desperately wanted to go back to France to find her daughter, but couldn’t cross into the occupied area. So she stayed in Russia and found employment teaching French.
This excerpt is from A Thousand Kisses when Hélène was looking for a job teaching French in 1914:
‘Hélène began the difficult task of looking for work as a French instructor. When she met her friend, Marie, a few days later, she had them both in a fit of giggles as she described one house she had visited.
“I put on my best outfit – you know the tailored tan linen skirt and jacket with the white blouse – and walked up to the front door, trying to appear as professional as possible. A short man in full morning suit, with a ridiculous little goatee, answered the door. I asked, in French, if madame or monsieur were at home? He just said, ‘Nyet’, and I thought, ‘What a peasant, doesn’t even speak French!’ and allowed my eyes to narrow just a little, like this.”
Marie was already laughing, and Hélène was encouraged to continue her dramatic re-telling of the story.
“So I said, in French, that I would like to leave a message for madame and monsieur, s’il vous plaît, with a slight emphasis on ‘plaît’, as if it should please him, a nobody in the world. But, Marie, this one was a little tougher than that. I’m serious, he puffed up his chest and took his time looking me up and down, from my head to my toes and back again.”
“No!” cried Marie.
“Yes! Then, you won’t believe it, he said in perfect French, in the most droll, serious voice, ‘You can leave a message for madame. And in future, you can use the service entrance.’ He actually used the familiar ‘tu’ instead of ‘vous’, cheeky sod, and left me standing at the door wondering whether he was going to make me go to the service entrance, or had gone to fetch a plate for the message.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, fortunately for my pride, he re-appeared, and I was able to put my calling card on the silver plate which extended, like so, from his gloved hand,” Hélène pulled out her card with her other hand and presented it to Marie: ‘Hélène Aubry, gouvernante, instructrice de française, Kirochnaya ulitsa, 36, Saint-Pétersbourg.’
“Did they hire you?” asked Marie when she had stopped laughing and wiped her eyes.
“Yes, I’m charging three roubles per day, working with the family one day a week. It’s a start, but nowhere near enough money to pay for my expenses, so I have to keep working on the list of names to fill in the other four days in the week.”’
This photo was taken when Hélène was in Russia – perhaps this was the outfit she wore when she went for her interviews.