Chapter III: Part I: The Youthful Years (2)

Before the war we used to take a trip every other year to Fredensborg Palace near Copenhagen. It was great fun for us children to visit the white villa at Hvidore, which stood majestically amidst the flowering trees and bushes, with its terraces offering a magnificent view of the sea, each level rising smaller and smaller to the top.

From the terraces the sight of sailboats and yachts in the bay gave us a feeling of tranquility and relaxation. Beyond the marshes were the Danish farms with their charming thatched-roof houses, tall poplar trees, golden wheat fields and millions of scarlet poppies which added grandeur to this natural landscape. It was this that impressed my young mind during our first visit. This villa belonged to my little Grandmother and her sisters, Queen Alexandra of England and Thyra, Duchess of Cumberland. It was at this quiet place at Fredensborg where the happy family reunion took place during the summer months.

We were especially excited on one occasion when Queen Alexandra and Uncle Bertie (King Edward VII of England) joined us at Reval on their yacht, the “Victoria and Albert”. I recollect that King Edward came dressed in Scottish kilts. Grandmother Marie and Aunt Olga arrived on their yacht, the “Polar Star”. Later we were joined by Uncle George, who subsequently became King George V of England, with his wife May (Queen Mary) and their children, including the eldest son David, later Edward, Prince of Wales. In addition, there were many other boys and girls belonging to other relatives. We had a great family reunion and a full schedule of activities. Fishing, bathing, rowing, wading in the shallow waters in the bay and various games were the order of the day. We youngsters enjoyed the high swings which were put up especially for us. Alexei, though only four or five years of age, had been well versed in geography and could name all the various ports in the Baltic. The Russian Ambassador to London, Count Alexander Benckendorff, regarded Alexei as being an unusually bright child. Soon we were off again in the fiords for a glimpse of Norway. When we were in sight of Christiania (Oslo), so many yachts and other vessels surrounded the “Standard” that we were forced to turn back. Apparently the news of our visit had preceded us.

On our return we brought with us a number of Royal Copenhagen pieces which were adorned with capricious scenes of winter or summer meadows, all interpreted so realistically, and also numerous figurines of animals and fowl, all executed in those soft blue and white colors, some with a touch of brown. Only the hands of Danish artisans could create those heavenly colors.

Once I remember Kaiser Wilhelm II was cruising on his yacht in our vicinity and our ship fired a salute to him. The salute was returned and when the Kaiser came on board our ship, he greeted Father with a kiss and exclaimed, “My most valued friend.” The German band played the Russian national anthem; then the Russian band played the German anthem. During the ensuing visits, the Kaiser took quite a liking to me, calling me “The Little Joker”. I also remember how he danced in a way that Mother thought was undignified and unbecoming to an Emperor. He was one cousin who drove us to despair.

Grandmother Marie joined us in Reval. She brought with her her sister-in-law, Queen Olga of Greece. Queen Olga was the consort of King George I, Grandmother’s brother who was later assassinated. This deed made a fearful impression on us. I remember when Granny cried, “Why do they want to kill an innocent man?” I remember King George as being quite bald, so much so that the Kaiser remarked one time that King George had his own exclusive moon. Extreme baldness seemed to be a feature of the Danish royal family. Kaiser Wilhelm referred to the Danish branch as the “deaf, bald-headed Danes”. King Gustavus V and Queen Victoria of Sweden also paid us a visit. They came on their yacht. We later returned their visit by going to Stockholm.

Quite often our trips were marred by unpleasant incidents, such as the time when, while cruising in Finnish waters, an English freighter persisted in coming too close to our yacht. When our repeated warnings were ignored, we were forced to fire a shot which unfortunately wounded a member of the English freighter’s crew. On this trip we were invited to visit Prince Henry of Prussia (Mother’s brother-in-law) at a beautiful villa on the shore overlooking the sea at Jagernsfeld, so that the Kaiser could show us his fleet at Kiel. Unfortunately the weather prevented us from doing this and after a brief stop we proceeded to England.

A twenty-one gun salute greeted the “Standard” as we entered the English harbor of Cowes on the Isle of Wight. This was returned by the Russian warships and we passed through a cortege of yachts lined up on each side as we sailed down the middle. Soon the “Victoria and Albert” and the “Standard” were alongside each other. Cheers filled the air and salutes were exchanged. Not until the next morning did the real entertainment begin, when King Edward VII appeared on the bridge dressed in the uniform of a Russian admiral. Father stood next to him in the uniform of a British admiral. The Russian and the British flags were flying, as bands played both national anthems. Amidst the greetings and cheers we proceeded aboard the “Victoria and Albert” to the royal pier. We exchanged pleasant visits and many pictures were taken for our albums.

At luncheon on the yacht, we sat at a long table. King Edward sat in the middle, Mother, dressed in white, looking beautiful and radiant sitting beside him. Queen Alexandra was opposite the King with Father next to her. Alexei kept trying to get King Edward’s attention; until finally the King said: “All right, Alexei, what do you want?” Alexei replied gloomily, “It’s too late now, Uncle Bertie; you ate a caterpillar with your salad.” We were served from gold plates and the table decorations were in pink roses.

The other guests at dinner were the Crown Prince of Sweden, the Prince of Wales (later George V), Princess Beatrice, and Princess Irene, wife of Prince Henry of Prussia. Mother gave a dinner on the “Standard” for the ladies in honor of Queen Alexandra. At the many dinners on our yacht, I remember there were many elegant and beautiful ladies, several hundred of them: friends, relatives, English, Swedish, German and Russian. On one occasion King Edward gave a talk thanking us for the visit and turning to my Mother called her his “dear niece”.

There were several excursions, and in the afternoon tea was served on the lawn of the Royal Yacht Club. Several hundred guests were present, mostly relatives and friends. Mother knew them all.

Alexei was accompanied by a playmate. One day we were all whisked to Osborne House, where Princess Henry, Mother’s sister, and Princess Beatrice played with us on the lawn. This included Marie, Alexei, his companion and myself. Alexei was all slicked up from head to toe in a white sailor suit. Both boys behaved disgracefully. In the afternoon before tea, this brother of mine crawled over a new car belonging to one of our relatives and by teatime his white sailor suit was completely wrinkled and disreputable. He refused to leave the car and added, “You girls can go to the tea; I am happy at what I am doing.” All of us were disgusted with our brother. Finally his sailor servant, Derevenko, took him off the car. At tea we frowned at him and motioned with our hands to keep at a distance from us, pretending that he did not belong to our family. Tearfully he added to our embarrassment by saying aloud; “What is the matter with you girls? I do not like your attitude. If I were not ashamed, I would cry.”

At another time Olga and Tatiana had quite an experience. Dressed in their gray suits they walked about the town of Cowes, unattended. They paused in their sightseeing before a window display and entered the shop to purchase postcards and photographs for our albums. As they came out of the shop a carriage bearing Count Benckendorff and a friend stopped on the other side of the street. The girls ran across to surprise them, and surprised they were--to find my sisters unescorted. My sisters became frightened when a large crowd, having heard about our visit, recognized my sisters and gathered around them. Finally the girls made their escape through a store as a constable blocked the door against the pressing crowd. Two carriages were summoned, one for the constable, the other for the girls. At the suggestion of the constable, they finally avoided the crowd by taking refuge in a church. This was their first experience of an unescorted adventure, and their last. When they returned to us, we youngsters kept asking them about it a dozen times, especially when we saw the pictures of the incident in our albums. What a great and priceless triumph it was: that young girls of our position were allowed to show themselves unescorted in public.

Prince David, who was to become King Edward VIII, came by torpedo boat to Osborne House from Dartmouth where he was attending the Royal Naval College. And before we left, he took Father through his college. Father was so impressed with Dartmouth, he talked of sending Alexei there. This was the end of our visit. King Edward, Queen Alexandra, Prince George, then Prince of Wales, and Princess Mary with all their children came to bid us good-bye as we sailed away from Cowes after a most memorable visit.

As usual our party included Princess Obolensky, Mlle. Butsova, a lady-in-waiting, of whom Mother was very fond, as were we all; also Mlle. Tutcheva, our governess, with whom I was continually at swords’ points, because she could not hide her jealousy of Mlle. Butsova, and also because of her derogatory remarks about our English relatives. Present too, were Count Fredericks, Father’s chamberlain, Ambassador Izvolsky, Prince Beloselsky-Belozersky, Dr. Botkin, Dr. Derevenko, Captain Drenteln and many other Russians from our escort ships.

The “Standard” then sailed to Cherbourg, where President Fallières was to meet us in his yacht, the “Marseilles”. During this cruise, as on others, we ran into a great deal of fog and storm and our speed was greatly reduced. We arrived late in Cherbourg. Father reviewed the French fleet with the French President, and we children were allowed to take pictures of submarines which were important exhibits in our albums. These albums and Olga’s description in her diary were a source of great pleasure to us later during the war when we could relive each moment of this pleasurable trip. During our arrest in 1917, these pictures were confiscated.

President Fallières gave a dinner on the deck of a battleship, in honor of my family. It was a beautiful affair. The table was in the shape of a horseshoe. In the center of the table, roses were arranged to form the Russian coat of arms. During the dinner bands played popular compositions of French and Russian composers. Afterwards there were floats on the water, lighting up scenes from the opera _Lohengrin_ and others. Someone must have informed them that Mother loved this opera by Richard Wagner. Launches were made to look like dolphins, sea serpents, Lohengrin’s swan, a huge egg (on top of which was a rooster pulling a gondola with a man inside playing a mandolin), a huge grasshopper and many other fantastic shapes. A float carrying a band of musicians drawn by many make-believe swans ended the procession. There were also beautiful fireworks lasting late into the night. Later a complete movie of the entire display was sent to us; when Alexei was ill, he amused himself by operating the projector with interest.

The next day we all went to the yacht’s chapel for a divine service, and to give thanks for the wonderful trip and our new friends. Later the President brought us gifts. To Alexei he presented miniature rifles, guns and drums, as well as a military tent completely equipped with a miniature cot, table and folding chairs. Alexei was overwhelmed. Afterwards he derived many happy hours in the park playing with his field equipment. It was this little gun that the Bolsheviks seized while he was playing with it in the garden during our arrest in Tsarskoe Selo. Olga received a writing desk set of dark blue enamel, beautifully initialed. Tatiana received a travel clock which she took with her later to Tobolsk. Marie received a dollhouse, two stories high, completely furnished, including a bath tub and electric lighting. I received a beautiful doll with a complete trousseau, even a veil for a bride. A twenty-one-gun salute was fired at our departure from Cherbourg, as at Cowes.

This cruise made me appreciate Olga and Tatiana; they impressed me highly with their graceful manners. I did so wish I could be like them when I grew up. They were so tall and each looked to be every inch a Princess, while it did not seem that I had grown at all during these years. Even Alexei was an inch or more taller than I. Marie too was tall. People said I would be short like my Grandmother. I was tall enough when I sat down, but my limbs were not long enough to suit me. Our Captain had a suggestion, that I hop on one foot, then on the other, three times a day, saying that would produce the desired results. I followed his instructions, even doubled and tripled his recipe, but without success. On a cruise, when I confided to him that his suggestions bore no fruit, he nearly died laughing. I never forgave the Captain for making me feel so ridiculous.

In spite of these several cruises during that summer of 1909, Mother’s health did not improve sufficiently to satisfy the doctors. She suffered from neuralgia. Karlsruhe was recommended, so the family went to Mannheim, to Uncle Ernest’s castle at Friedberg. Princess Louis of Battenberg and her two sons were there too. Then we went to Wolfsgarten near Darmstadt. Darmstadt was Mother’s old home, where as a young lady she lived with her brother Ernest when he became the reigning Grand Duke on the death of his father. Mother was fond of him because he replaced her late parents, and so we were irresistibly drawn to him. Uncle Ernest was handsome, kind, musical and artistic. Mother had the same talents as her brother. His second wife Eleonor (Onor) was a delightful person. She had known Mother since childhood, and their friendship grew stronger each year. This trip therefore was meaningful to our family.

I recall little of our stay. There was a constant flow of Mother’s relatives and hordes of royal children. We four sisters had only one bedroom to ourselves and Father had one small room where he could receive people. I remember Mother’s sister Irene (Amity) and her husband Prince Henry, the Kaiser’s brother. She completely won us over with her tender affection, and referred to us as “the dear children.” She was closer to Mother than were any of Mother’s other sisters. It seemed that we were always being summoned to meet a new cousin, aunt, uncle or a friend. One of the relatives had a homely nose, but fortunately I do not remember who she was.

Father went to Potsdam as guest of the Kaiser and Kaiserin. It gave me a queer feeling when I first realized the Kaiser’s deformity. I remember seeing him ride his horse in his Hussar uniform. He stuck his reins into his belt; with fingers resting partly on his hip he cleverly manipulated the reins. He seemed to lean his weight heavily to one side. Aunt Irene explained to us about his left arm. She said: “When Prince Wilhelm was born, the doctors and his father rejoiced because the child was a boy. But the little infant had not yet shown signs of life. They did everything to get him to breathe. They slapped him, tossed him into the air, swung him by his feet,--there was a full hour of working over him. At last he gave a feeble cry. His mother, ill at the time, did not know of the overly rough treatment of her baby. Later when she found out, she was in despair, she blamed the doctors and the nurses for the injury her child had received. For his left arm, which had been pulled out of the socket, became paralyzed and later shrivelled.”

Many of our relatives were in deep mourning for King Edward VII of England (Uncle Bertie), who had passed away in the spring of 1910. Kaiser Wilhelm had been hunting with Father in the Oranienburg forest near Berlin, and upon their return, in the presence of the widow, Queen Alexandra, and of the new King George V and Queen Mary, he looked at all the ladies in black dresses and white collars and remarked: “Everyone is dressed in black because the old rooster has died.” He knew Queen Alexandra was partly deaf and could not hear his remark; but there were many others who did, including the beautiful Princess Alice and her husband, Prince Andrew of Greece, who had come with Cousin George from England. We all bore disapproving expressions at his remark, and one relative whispered, “Wilhelm must be mad.”

All of the family knew that the Kaiser was tactless. During the time when he was only heir apparent, he never hesitated to express his impatience at having to wait so long to inherit the throne. Long before his grandfather and father died, he wrote the Proclamation, so as to be ready when the occasion should present itself. Aunt Irene and Mother cried when they heard that the young Emperor, Wilhelm II, the day he ascended the throne, ordered everyone in the palace placed under surveillance, including his own mother, the Empress Victoria; this in spite of his having sworn to his father that he would always uphold the honor of the royal house. He despised his courtiers, calling them parasites--the same men who during the war wrested his power and then held him practically under arrest. He hated the sight of his Mother’s friends and ladies-in-waiting and without hesitation he once said that the only joy in his life was being at the Yacht Club. Now he was obviously pleased that Uncle Bertie was no longer in his way. His dislike had begun when Uncle Bertie had called him “the boss of Cowes” and, whenever possible, had avoided holding the regatta when Wilhelm was present. One would not have believed that he had the use of only one arm and with it skillfully steered the sailboat.

Kaiserin Augusta Victoria always looked beautiful with a clear, almost transparent complexion, and was most friendly but quiet. I was intrigued by the black ribbon which she wore around her throat. She and the Kaiser showed us pictures of the palace at Potsdam. It was beautiful except for one room which I thought was in bad taste. This room had ornate pillars encrusted with all kinds of precious and semiprecious stones and odd-shaped shells. I understand that Father had contributed a large uncut diamond to this conglomeration, which also included geological specimens, together with petrified snakes wrapped around the pillars, turtles and crocodiles in creeping or crawling positions.

One day Father went with the Kaiser to the mausoleum and placed a wreath on the tomb of the Emperor Frederick III, the Kaiser’s father. Photographs were taken on this occasion; later, in the bitterness of war, while looking at these pictures, Mother said; “Papa would rather lay a wreath on Wilhelm’s tomb.” We children cut the pictures of the Kaiser out of all our photographs. Alexei tore up his pictures of Germany completely, remarking that he (the Kaiser) did not deserve to be called a godfather, and indignantly tramped the old photographs with his feet. I did the same. After our arrest and imprisonment in Tsarskoe Selo, I purposely broke several gifts from the Kaiser pretending that it was an accident in every case.

Before we departed for home, Father gave the Kaiserin a pendant of pearls and sapphires, which we had previously proudly displayed to our friends for their approval. We liked the Empress and often felt sorry for her because she had to put up with such an intemperate husband. The Kaiserin gave each of us girls a sewing basket complete with all necessary equipment. We used these until 1914, when we gave them away not wanting to see them again. Some of the Kaiser’s sons, resplendent in immaculate uniforms and eagle-crested helmets, escorted us to the station, frequently clicked their heels as they saluted us, making our departure a gala affair. The Kaiserin was forbidden to accompany us to the station. At the time Mother considered this an insult, but a letter from Aunt Eleonor revealed that the Kaiser in a fit of anger had slapped her face that morning before our departure, and each of his five fingers had left an impression on her face.

As we boarded the train, Father was dressed in his civilian overcoat and Alexei wore his customary dark-blue sailor suit, while we sisters wore our traveling suits as it was already cold. On the train, Alexei said: “I was scared of those cousins.” Upon the occasion of that visit to Germany, Father, out of courtesy, appointed the Kaiserin Augusta Victoria honorary colonel-in-chief of the Grodno Hussars. This aroused terrible consternation, especially on the part of Grandmother who was so furious that she cried and carried on bitterly, saying that she hoped she would never see the Kaiserin wearing that uniform. I am sure she never did. En route home Father received word from Aunt Ella that two Russian millionaires whom he knew had committed suicide. This made a sad impression on us children. Later, after we arrived home, Mother received a Christmas gift from the Kaiser, two enormous red enamelled vases. I presume they were made by the royal manufacturers. These vases were placed in a room in our home, one on each side of a console table.

Each member of our family settled into his usual routine of activities. The problem of finding playmates for my brother loomed large again. Derevenko, the sailor, had two sons, both younger than Alexei; they became my brother’s playmates, for which my Mother was bitterly criticized.

IV THE CRIMEA

Lessons were always an ordeal for me, especially when it was time for a visit to the Crimea, for our hearts had always been set on the sea. Lessons, however, were never neglected, for Mother was always strict about their regularity. Livadia was the favorite estate of my Father, as it had been that of his father and grandfather before him. It is located at Yalta on the Crimean peninsula, and its sunshine and warmth were a welcome change after the gloomy, cold days spent in our more northerly home at Tsarskoe Selo.

At this time Dr. Botkin, Mother’s physician, who was ill, requested permission to have his children come aboard our yacht. Mother replied that they could come as often as they wished during their father’s convalescence. I heard that the sick should not be forsaken. I, as a good Samaritan, did my part by visiting the doctor every day, sitting at the edge of his couch with my folded hands, like those of an old lady, wishing to entertain him. We were all very fond of him. He had a wonderful gift of story telling, and after taking in every word I flew like a bullet to tell Marie and Alexei every detail of our conversation, often embellishing it to add more zest to the story. At home I used to wait for him in the room next to Mother’s bedroom. I knew he had to pass this room after he finished her examination. I stopped him and opened my heart to him with my childish problems. He asked me all kinds of questions, and in turn I received from him first hand information about his family. I always carried scraps of paper in my hand. Asking him for his pencil, I scribbled down some kind of curly-cues for my record.

We were so excited when we heard that his two children, Tatiana and Gleb, were coming to visit their father. Dr. Botkin had told us so much about his children that we felt we knew them. At first Gleb was shy and Tatiana excited, but soon we all got acquainted and had a hilarious time. My older sisters left the newcomers to us younger ones. I remember hiding from Tatiana behind a drapery. Dr. Botkin was resting on a couch and kept saying: “I see you, Anastasia,” since my shoes were clearly visible protruding underneath the drapery. I did not answer him. Finally Tatiana pushed aside the curtain expecting to find me there, but all she found were my shoes. I had left them there and moved to another hiding place.

Dr. Botkin was so understanding in the way he got into the spirit of our games. In my eagerness for his children to have a good time, I asked him confidentially what I could do to make his family happy. He replied, “Just being with you is the greatest pleasure you can give.” His children called him “Papula,” and I too appropriated that as my pet name for him. In Ekaterinburg, when times were sad, I often said: “Cheer up, Papula; all will be right.” In Tsarskoe Selo, we girls had little opportunity to play with anyone from outside except occasionally with our cousins.

One of the unforgettable sights at Livadia was the Hill of the Cross (Krestovaya Gora) which greeted our eyes each time we reached the Bay of Yalta, and we gazed upon it in thanksgiving for our safe arrival. It was this towering mountain with a monumental cross at its peak that fascinated me. I refused to believe that the world was round but I imagined that the peak was one of the props which supported the sky like an umbrella. To explore the mountain, I devised a plan. I ran to Marie about it, since she always was interested in my adventures. As a result, one sunny afternoon, when I was overcome by curiosity and our nurse was absorbed with the others, Marie and I slipped through the bushes and were actually on our way. We dashed from bush to bush until we thought we were safe from possible pursuers. Unfortunately the mountain which we had set out to climb proved to be farther than we had anticipated. On and on we went. Finally we could move only slowly. The mountain was still far away. Bewildered and discouraged we turned homeward. We were worn out. Suddenly we noticed guards coming toward us. We rushed toward them, weariness forgotten. “Here they are,” a voice sang out, and we two explorers were hurried back to the palace.

I recall an incident involving Alexei. He suddenly seemed to have disappeared. At the first report everyone thought in terms of drowning, kidnapping, or some other tragedy. Every guard and the household help ran in different directions. Father, by instinct, went straight toward the sea, and there he found Alexei happily playing on the beach with a pile of shells he had gathered.

At Livadia we had beautiful orchards, bearing every kind of fruit. We loved to spend our leisure time in these orchards. The gardeners displayed apples, peaches, apricots and cherries, all according to the season. We were especially proud of our vineyards nearby at Massandra. We had every kind of grape--white, purple, red--each one a perfect specimen and unusually large. Whenever we visited the wine cellar we found large bunches of grapes artistically arranged on platters in the reception room. They looked so tempting with sprays of leaves accentuating the soft colors of the fruit. After tea, cakes and grapes were passed.

After our tour of the vineyards we usually took the lift down and walked through seven huge store rooms. These contained many shelves of bottled wines lying on their sides, dated, labelled and crested with the Russian double eagle. These bottles were in deep red, white or blue marked with their age, which went back several generations. Father commented on the age and quality of the wines stored there on platforms, in large barrels, holding several hundred gallons of wine to age. It was here that the coronation wine was made and bottled; a lot of it still remained in these rooms at the time of the revolution. There were varieties of wines here which were used in the palace at Tsarskoe Selo. Father drank only occasionally. He disliked champagne, but enjoyed a glass of sherry. Mother and we children used some only for medicinal purposes.

Many of our activities were centered around the waters of the Black Sea. We often went bathing but none of us children could be called good swimmers. As a matter of fact we were afraid of the deep water, especially since that frightful incident when I was swept under by a huge wave and was saved by Father from drowning. After this a platform or breakwater was built for our protection.

Nineteen eleven was a turbulent year for us. On our way to the Crimea we stopped for several days in Kiev. Father and my older sisters accompanied by the ladies of honor and by Crown Prince Boris, the heir to the Bulgarian throne, went to the opera. After the first act, when the curtain fell and the orchestra played, voices were heard from the audience and confusion began. Prime Minister Stolypin who sat in a white coat in the front row had been shot. The bullet pierced the cross and his chest. The foul deed was done by a man who used a pass given him by a friend of the Okhrana who had been made to believe that he was anxious to be present at the performance. The family returned earlier than expected. Father was as white as a ghost and both sisters shook when they reached the train where Mother was in a state of collapse. She had already heard about the murder. It was said that the Minister, Count Witte, who wanted to regain his former position, which he had lost to Stolypin, exchanged sharp words with Stolypin shortly before the killing took place. Father ordered no reprisal, stating that court action should settle the matter. For this he was deeply criticized.

Madame Narishkina told us then the experience the Stolypin family had had during the Japanese war. Their home in St. Petersburg was bombed and about two dozen people were injured; one remained a cripple. She said that arms, fingers and limbs were scattered all over the garden.

Amongst Mother’s closest friends was Mme. Anna Vyrubova (née Taneeva) who sometimes quarrelled with members of the staff. Anna Vyrubova even declared war on Mlle. Butsova. Mother said: “Never again will I have her in Livadia,” but she broke her promise again and again. Anna’s mother before her marriage was a Tolstoy and her husband was related to General Voyeykov, the commandant of the palaces in Tsarskoe Selo. He, too, was disliked by many.

Mother invited Anna to come to the Crimea despite the feeling against her. She had been our friend for a long while and we accepted her as though she were a member of the family. Her house in Tsarskoe Selo was conveniently located a short distance from the palace gate and we children loved to go to Anna where we did not spare her cookie jar which was always full and accessible. There was no formality at her house and we were free from surveillance. Anna knew how to make us feel at ease with her friendliness and understanding, and our ties with her grew stronger. Sometimes even Father joined Mother at Anna’s, and that was a unique experience for my parents. It was at her house that Mother and sometimes Father saw the Starets (Rasputin). Hence all the messages from the Starets to Mother came through Anna.

We had heard of the malicious stories about Anna’s relationship with Rasputin. However, a thorough investigation disclosed that these terrible rumors were totally unfounded and that Rasputin had never visited her house when she was alone. Mother had a special interest in her because she had encouraged Anna to marry an officer who had been shell-shocked during the Russo-Japanese war. The marriage eventually ended in divorce. After the death of Rasputin, Anna moved to our house because Mother feared she, too, might be killed. Her father, Alexander Sergeevich Taneev, held a position at court and Father esteemed him highly. He was also a fine musician and from him Anna had inherited much talent. A love for music bound Mother and Anna into this close friendship. These musical hours served to release Mother’s suppressed ambitions. In her younger days she had taken voice lessons, learning many arias from operas. Had she been born into another family, she could have made music her profession.

Miss Baumgarten or Miss Clements usually accompanied Mother during her vocal practice. Mother played many complicated compositions on the piano; the harder they were the better she liked them. She possessed great patience and would never stop until her undertaking was accomplished. When she played she always laid her rings on a tray. She had an idea that the rings interfered with the clearness and softness of the melody.

Anna was a constant visitor in our house and occasionally Father dropped in to listen and enjoy the simple pleasures Mother and Anna had together. Whenever possible, in the evening, we children were allowed to slip into the room to hear them play and sing classical numbers. At these Mother was radiantly beautiful and she carried the melody with much expression and feeling; we were often deeply touched. There was an expression of sadness in those melodies and the plaintive ones were those she sang the best. Father enjoyed Mother’s informal concerts but never encouraged the presence of strangers during these intimate musical evenings. He also was musical and while young often played the piano with Madame Narishkina.

Mother often played and sang with Countess Emma Fredericks, the daughter of our chamberlain. She, too, had a beautiful voice; unfortunately she was a cripple. I often wondered what became of her when misfortune swept the country. Another musically gifted friend was the lady-in-waiting, Baroness Iza Buxhoeveden. All these people contributed considerably to Mother’s happiness. Alexei’s illness in 1912 aggravated Mother’s heart condition and forced her to withdraw considerably from her hitherto enjoyed pleasures. When the war came, she stopped singing altogether, though she did take part in chants during church services, especially when we were under arrest.

Father encouraged all sorts of artistic endeavors. He wished to give an opportunity to all the poor to hear the best of concerts and see the plays and cinemas. The year of my birth he sponsored Narodny Dom, a cultural center in St. Petersburg, not far from the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul. This included large concert halls, a theatre and a cinema. The same artists who performed at the Imperial Theater were heard and seen in this cultural center, at the cost of only a few kopecks.

Never did Livadia seem more magical than at the time we arrived to find a beautiful new palace replacing the old wooden structure which had stood for generations. The new palace construction began in 1910 and was finished in 1911. It had forty or fifty rooms. It rose naturally from its surroundings as if it had grown out of the fertile soil itself. The old palace had been torn down because it developed some kind of malodorous mushroom which was hazardous to our health; so now only a memory existed in our minds. This was in contrast to the new building, so full of light and air, which was constructed of steel and of native, white Crimean Inkerman stone. It was quite as dazzling, in the sunshine, as the sea itself, and, indeed, cheerfully different from anything we had ever lived in. It did not seem like a palace, least of all ours. Mother was charmed, especially with the harmonizing colors; her pleasure made a home of it immediately. She was everywhere, supervising the putting up of different pictures or icons, or the placing of vases (designed by her) of exquisite blossoms on various tables. Father had made plans with the gardeners to make sure there would be plenty of Mother’s choice, favorite flowers. Her greatest favorite was lobelia. She loved its purplish-blue hue so much she requested that the same shade of velvet be set into the stair rail, next to the Byzantine-style chapel leading upstairs to the second floor apartments.

This time the old porcelain stoves were omitted and the palace was heated by hot water. All the rooms had direct bells connected with the room of the officers on duty who could enter the rooms if needed. Father later had telephone booths installed throughout the park, so he could be found wherever he might be. Also we had some trained dogs to watch the palace grounds. The colonnades and balconies were in white marble, and some of the lower rooms were in lemonwood, mahogany and redwood. Mother with the help of her architect, Krasnov, selected all the needed articles. She herself had painted a picture of wisteria vines which hung in one of her rooms in the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo (proof of her artistic talents). In our chapel there she had a glass screen of that same color, behind which she prayed undisturbed.

Father, too, was delighted with the new palace but his delight centered more on the outdoors, with its rare specimens of trees, shrubs and plants. The climate of the Crimea lent itself to all sorts of agricultural experiments, and he gave a great deal of time to naturalizing importations from the famous Nikitsky Botanical Garden near by. Whenever Father had a free moment to himself he enjoyed working in the gardens under the bright sun. In the spring there were varieties of hyacinths in bloom, white, purple and pink. Many flowering trees and shrubs embellished the beauty and elegance. Mother loved the combination of wisteria and smoke tree. A year before the war a storm destroyed many of these rare trees, which were soon replaced by new importations.

In front of the palace, facing the sea, was a lovely, life-sized, reclining female figure in pure white marble. Alexei and I discovered a hole on the side of the figure. It was large enough to squeeze a kopeck into, which we promptly did. On the following morning we rushed out to see if it was still there.

I have many vivid memories of the place and the happy times which we all enjoyed while there. To me the Crimean peninsula was a concentration of nature’s best: snow-capped mountains with little Tartar villages nestling on their slopes, high plains under cultivation, and valleys full of wild flowers and berries. The estate itself was especially beautiful, with its wide lanes, lovely gardens, and many orchards bearing every kind of fruit. But, perhaps, most beautiful of all, and certainly the accent for all the other natural beauties surrounding Livadia, was the sea itself. Even today, as I think of my childhood visits to the Crimea, happy memories come to my mind. I can see pictures of vividly colored flowers, soft green-blue waters and deeper skies, all fused together in the melting sunshine of the Russian Riviera. Life here was most pleasant, with less formality and with more leisure time for Mother and Father to spend with us children. Our visits usually came in the spring and fall, and the protracted winter which intervened became for all of us one long period of anticipation. Our last stay of any length was just before World War I, when I was almost thirteen.

We went to the Crimea by special train. We invariably went first to Sevastopol, where Father inspected the naval installations. These included the admiralty, naval barracks, hospital, and other buildings. Father frequently lunched with the officers at the Officers Club. When he was ready to proceed, we boarded a yacht or tender at the Tsarskaya Pristan (dock) and landed at Yalta where we were greeted by the people who lined the road as our carriages passed through. The natives considered this day a holiday.

Granny Marie had not visited the Crimea since the death of her husband, Alexander III, in 1894 and even the new palace which stood majestically among the trees could not induce her to pay us a visit. During the revolution, however, she was forced to flee to the Crimea.

Before the war, while we were in the Crimea, Father got up one morning before dawn, and dressed himself in a soldier’s uniform. Eluding the guards, he walked toward the rising sun. He passed through villages and saw people working in gardens and fields. All seemed happy and contented as they passed by him. We, afterwards, wondered if he had his great-granduncle, Alexander I, in mind. For it was believed that Alexander left one early morning, disguised as a beggar, walking for weeks through the villages until he reached a Siberian monastery. History tells us that Alexander I was ailing and died in Taganrog. But many believe that the day he was supposed to have died, he was seen escaping into the darkness of the palace grounds. His wife had a simple funeral for him, which was witnessed by only a few. The body was then brought to St. Petersburg where it was laid in a mausoleum in the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul--where all the Russian emperors were entombed. But it is said that the entombed body was not the Emperor’s but that of a soldier who had died in Taganrog at the same time that Alexander I had escaped. Alexander I allegedly died while hiding in an ancient monastery in Tomsk as a monk; the birthmarks on the body were the same as those of the Emperor. Later the Cathedral in St. Petersburg was flooded and, when the coffin that allegedly held the body of the Emperor was opened, it was found to be empty. The investigation disclosed that the coffin had been pried open in the past and the body removed.

Father, however, after walking all day and talking to the peasants, returned late in the afternoon. He found the police and his staff officers terribly worried over his disappearance. Father was happy. He said it had been one of his most pleasant walks for he had seen how his people lived. General Dumbadze, who was responsible for Father’s safety, was very much upset over this incident.

Another time, when Father tried unsuccessfully to leave the palace in Tsarskoe Selo, dressed as a soldier, one of the guards saluted him as he passed. Father asked him: “Do you know me?” The guard answered: “I do, Your Majesty, by your kind eyes.”

In the Crimea there were other activities to look forward to: such as the bazaar that was organized under the patronage of Mother and Princess Bariatinsky. This bazaar was held annually and the funds raised went to the support of the Children’s Tuberculosis Sanatorium. This institution was located on the Imperial estate of Massandra. It was housed in a beautiful building overlooking the sea and was surrounded by spacious grounds with avenues bordered by roses and rare species of carefully labelled shrubs and trees. This adjoined the Imperial vineyards. Here several hundred children were cared for and educated, and when they were cured of tuberculosis, many entered schools of higher learning. These children came from all over the Empire, from rich and poor alike. The large sums needed to support the hospital were raised through donations, concerts, plays, bazaars, selling flowers and photographs. Mother and her friends, with the assistance of my sisters, made many articles to be sold at this bazaar. We three younger ones felt the responsibility, too, and enthusiastically found buyers for flowers and for tickets to the concerts. The public was always generous.

Alexei was most eager to help in this project as he, himself, suffered so much and understood the misery of others. From time to time he gave his whole monthly allowance to this cause. Once, on our private train on the way to the Crimea, Aunt Ella joined us at the station in Moscow. She, too, brought with her gifts for the bazaar. We took turns selling Easter eggs on the train and, by the time we reached the Crimea, the donations had grown enormously large. One of our entourage carried the basket while Alexei sold many of these treasures with his heartbreaking sales talk to our friends who were on the train. He kept a careful account of all the gifts he collected which were valued at several hundred thousand rubles; a check for 50,000 rubles came from Prince Dolgorukov. Alexei never forgot this generosity and looked forward to another year in order to do the same thing. When he was subsequently praised for this, he answered cheerfully: “I never had more fun in my life!”

Our cousins, the Princesses Nina and Xenia Georgievna, helped us in this charity project when they were at their estate in Kharaks. Our other relatives from Ai-Todor, adjoining Livadia, always lent their aid as did those of the Youssoupoff family. Countess Vorontsova-Dashkova, that beautiful woman, was a great supporter of this charity.

In 1914 the “Standard” was brought to the Crimean waters from the Baltic, through the North Sea. Box after box was carried down from the “Standard.” They contained items to be sold at charity bazaars which were held in the gymnasium under the auspices of the Governor of Yalta. Most of the buyers wished to purchase something handmade by my Mother or that had been touched by her. Madame Zizi (Elizabeth) Narishkina assisted Mother and handed to the guests whatever Mother selected. It might be a child’s bonnet, a cushion, or a scarf. Mother thanked them and offered her hand which they always insisted upon kissing. Olga and Marie, Tatiana and I sold at different stalls. Hundreds of beautiful handmade boxes of all kinds of shapes and sizes, in lapis lazuli, malachite, leather, or in the famous transparent enamel, or the lacquer boxes of papier maché were sold in great quantities. In the evening, after supper, a concert was given by Madame Plevitskaya, the nightingale of Russia. Her graceful bows were like a weeping willow and her long fingertips touched the floor before us. She was noted for her rendition of national songs.

Plays were given in our honor which were often attended by our friends and cousins. On one of these occasions Alexei was unruly. During the intermission he acted like a wild colt. His friend encouraged him in this exhibition. He jumped on top of a chair and then up on a table, pretending that he was delivering a speech. He changed his voice, using a peculiar accent in pronouncing certain letters. Marie and I were so ashamed of him and could not believe it was our brother. Mother said she would never again allow him to appear in public without the two older sisters.

Everyone worked hard and made large donations besides. During the war a part of this sanatorium was turned into a hospital for the wounded officers who recovered quickly to return to combat.

Father’s purpose in taking the long walks mentioned above was to make sure that the exercises required of his troops during maneuvers were not too strenuous for them. He frequently exceeded by several miles per day the distance the troops were required to march. On such walks Father carried only water and bread.

V SPALA: 1912

The summer of 1912 found us once more in Peterhof.

Before long we departed on another cruise for official reasons. Kaiser Wilhelm came to Russia for a few days for nautical ceremonies and to inspect the Viborg infantry of which he was the honorary colonel-in-chief; he cruised with us in Finnish waters. He was so noisily jovial that Mother called him “the comedian.” At this time in our presence, one of his officers said something about “my men.” The Kaiser turned sharply and curling his mustache nervously said, “Once again, they are _my_ men.” He was happy one minute and moody the next, so that my sisters remarked, “There is something wrong with him.” But, of course, at my age, I saw only the humorous side of his nature and enjoyed his amusing anecdotes and clever caricatures, drawn by himself, mostly characterizing his own relatives. He was jealous of Mother, because he could not understand how she could become all Russian, as his English mother had never become all German. He liked our yacht, the “Standard,” and said, “Nicky, I would like to have the ‘Standard’ myself, but with a German crew.” Father’s face flushed. He knew what he meant. The remark was intended to indicate German superiority in navigation. After a pause, Father answered: “We are very fond of the ‘Standard’; it is quite comfortable and the family enjoys it a great deal.”

The Kaiser often asked Father for donations for his charities and Father could not refuse him. This made my Mother angry. It was during this cruise that the Kaiser’s action and behavior aroused disgust in Mother more than before. Often she said: “I remember when he was a young man he used to provoke Granny with his sharp words. But Granny did not spare him, either.”

At the time of his departure, the Kaiser surprised everyone by kissing Father’s hand in the presence of our Foreign Minister, Izvolsky, who remarked, “A kiss on the hand and a stab in the back.” This diplomat foresaw, obviously, the great events of the coming World War I. We were glad when the Kaiser sailed away on the “Hohenzollern.” Grandmother also did not feel kindly toward the Kaiser since the German absorption of Schleswig-Holstein and the expulsion of the native Danes from their homeland. The wound was so fresh that she strongly resented the Kaiser’s visits to Denmark. Kaiser Wilhelm hated every living Slav and I have often wondered how he felt in his heart when he accepted expensive gifts from us and ate food with Father, who was not only a Slav but defended all the Slavs.

The same year we went to the monastery of Borodino to celebrate the Napoleonic defeat on the Berezina River in the war of 1812. The people wept from joy to see the Imperial family and they gave Alexei relics of the war of 1812.

Occasionally in the fall hunting lured Father to Poland to his estates at Belovezh in the government of Grodno. On our way there we landed in Reval where Alexei laid a stone at the harbor to Peter the Great. Father reviewed the Sixth Army Corps here, while Mother and we children visited the Nicholas Institute for Girls. In Belovezh we stayed in our new large red brick shooting lodge, with several watch towers and a fine balcony, from where we viewed the game brought in after the day’s hunt. One side of this residence held rare stuffed animals found here years ago and the other side was used by us as our living quarters. The house was located in the midst of a forest of pine and white birch trees surrounded by picturesque hills and ravines. Most of the best hunting took place in the vicinity of Belovezh and Spala.

Our lodge at Spala was a two-story, gloomy, wooden villa near a river and a park; one side was closely surrounded by tall trees through which little sunshine penetrated, making it necessary to keep the lights burning in the corridors and halls. The whole house here, too, was decorated in English chintzes.

We sisters went horseback riding over the broad, sandy roads and alleys which wound through the woods of white birch and fragrant pines. In the midst of fir trees the ground was covered with yellow milk mushrooms, as bright and smooth as silk which the natives ate raw. We also found time to play in the park or fish in the brook and occasionally Father and his guests had a game of tennis.

These forests had been stocked with game for generations of royal hunters. There were many wild animals roaming at large, including deer, wild boar, lynx, and wild fowl. But the most rare and sought was the auroch, an unusual variety of bison found only here and in the Caucasus mountains. At dusk the party returned, the prey was spread on the lawn and everyone was supposed to rush out to examine it and express great admiration. Mother often made some excuse to stay indoors, or appeared, out of courtesy, briefly on the balcony; she did not care to see these lovely creatures killed. The sight of dead deer with their large pathetic eyes, still open, reminded her too much of a human suffering.