Anastasia

by Carolyn Meyer

  When the dancing ended at midnight and a buffet supper was being served, the moon rose and reflected on the sea below us in a silvery pool. It was so lovely. I was sorry I told Olga she was ugly as mud, for she is not.

  19 March/1 April 1914

  It’s still too cold to swim in the sea (Papa doesn’t think so; he goes in every day, regardless, always with a loud whoop when he hits the icy water), but we’re to go for a horseback ride after our lessons tomorrow.

  20 March/2 April 1914

  My derrière hurts! Tatiana gets practically blue in the face when I say that word. It’s almost as bad as bosom. I told her it’s a French word and therefore perfectly proper, but she still disapproves. So I’ll say it this way: That part of my anatomy that was in contact with the saddle of a horse for six hours is sore.

  Even so, it was a good ride, back through the pine forests to a pretty waterfall. The farmers were plowing their fields for the spring planting, and they were very friendly. Papa says a swim in the sea would relieve my aches and pains. Mama says a warm bath is better.

  22 March/4 April 1914

  Tennis lessons have begun. Again. My tennis tutor says that I have a “natural swing,” but swing as often as I do, I don’t manage to hit the ball very often.

  I would much rather watch Papa, who has a natural swing and hits it every time. He plays with some of his aides and others in his suite. Some of Mama’s friends like to play, too, but Mama says her great joy is sitting quietly in the sun and watching the rest of us madly running after balls.

  24 March/6 April 1914

  Anybody would think we might have a few days off from our lessons while we are here in Livadia. But our tutors are merciless!

  When Monsieur Gilliard and Professor Petrov at last dismissed us today, Papa took us for a very long walk. We met some Turkish-speaking Tatar women who dye their hair with henna and hide their faces behind long veils. I think someday I’ll dye my hair bright red and wear a veil and no one will know who I am. Won’t Mama be appalled!

  27 March/9 April 1914

  I found Mashka’s diary. I swear I wasn’t even looking for it — it was simply lying there, open, on her table. Naturally, I looked. Here’s what she wrote:

  Someday, when I am grown up, I shall marry a Russian soldier and have twenty children.

  She must be crazy.

  29 March/11 April 1914

  Papa’s sister, Aunt Xenia, and her husband, Uncle Sandro, have arrived with our cousins. Irina is still on her honeymoon with Felix, but all six boys are here. Alexei is beside himself with happiness to have some boys to play with, but Mama doesn’t like them any more than I do, because they’re rowdy. I plan to stay as far away from them as possible, especially Nikita.

  30 March/12 April 1914

  Palm Sunday

  Today begins the holiest week of the year. Mama spends a great deal of time in her little chapel praying before her dozens of icons, holy pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus and the saints. Sometimes Papa or — more often — Tatiana goes with her. I usually manage to be somewhere else when she’s looking for one of us to accompany her.

  31 March/13 April 1914

  I’m decorating eggs to give to my family. First, you make a tiny hole in each end of the egg and blow very hard. (The chef takes the blown-out insides to make cakes for the Easter feast. He doesn’t believe in waste.) I don’t want to mention how many eggs I squashed until I had an entire row of empty eggshells to decorate. I’ve finished two: The first is dyed deep red with bits of gold-colored straw glued on in an intricate pattern. That one is for Papa. The other is dyed mauve, painted with purple irises, and shellacked, for Mama.

  1/14 April 1914

  We had our last fitting today with the seamstresses making our Easter dresses. They’re silk in a misty kind of green that Mama calls celadon.

  She says we’ll look extremely sophisticated when we wear them to church on Easter Eve. I say “Faugh!” to sophistication, but not out loud in front of Mama.

  3/16 April 1914

  Shura had to help me with my sisters’ and Alexei’s eggs to get them finished in time. I used one of the leftover eggshells to make a false nose, which I wore to tea to see if anyone would notice. Papa pretended not to, but Mashka laughed, Alexei shrieked, and — imagine! — Mama was appalled!

  Easter Day 1914

  Last night, the sophisticated Romanov grand duchesses and all of Papa’s and Mama’s guests crowded into the silent, darkened church. At midnight, the bishop knocked loudly on the door of the church and shouted, “Christ is risen!” and the crowd roared back, “He is truly risen!” The bishop entered carrying three huge candles, from which the priests lit their candles and passed the flame to ours, until hundreds of candles flickered. Mama’s face glowed with joy, and so did my sisters’, but I was having trouble with my garters and expected my stockings to fall down around my ankles. So, the only glow from me was my red face.

  After the service we came back for a wonderful feast. Lent is over, so we can eat all those things we weren’t allowed for the past forty days. The best is the paskha, sweetened cottage cheese mixed with candied fruits and nuts, then baked in a mold shaped like a flowerpot. I told Olga I could eat paskha every day, and she said that if I did I would soon look like paskha (like a flowerpot, she means). She is rotten, and to get back at her, I told her I know she secretly tried some of Dunyasha’s rouge on her lips. She grew quite red in the face, so I know she probably had. Mama does not allow anyone to wear rouge.

  Later

  Everyone was here for Easter dinner. Another feast! Butter, molded in the shape of a lamb, sat in the center of the table. It’s the dearest thing! There were platters of cold veal and wild boar and so on, and of course kulich, the most delicate bread. Yesterday, I watched the chef lay the loaf on its side on a pillow to cool so that it doesn’t get flat or out of shape, because it’s as tender as a cloud. The chef carried our kulich to church last night to have it blessed.

  The food was delicious, but the guests were not, at least not all of them — our dreadful cousins, for example. Mama invited Mrs. Phelps, that English lady who wears hats that look like a nest of birds. She has a voice like a bird, too. After Mrs. Phelps fluttered off, I did a little imitation of her, cawing exactly the way she does. Papa and my sisters were laughing so hard that tears were rolling down their cheeks, but Mama said my manners were frightful.

  Papa said, “That’s our Shvibzik.” And winked at me.

  As usual, Papa presented Mama with the most glorious Easter gift: a jeweled egg. I’ll describe it tomorrow. Now I’m going for more kulich and paskha.

  7/20 April 1914

  Long ago, Grandfather began the custom of ordering a jeweled egg every year from the court jeweler, Carl Fabergé, as an Easter gift for Grandmother. Now Papa orders two eggs, one for Grandmother and one for Mama. This egg is much bigger than an ordinary hen’s egg, or the egg of any other kind of bird (why am I now thinking of Mrs. Phelps?), and is made of gold and lots of precious jewels.

  There’s always a surprise inside the egg that’s revealed when you push a secret button. For instance, it might be a basket of wildflowers made of pearls. We each have a favorite egg: Tatiana loves the one that has miniature portraits of her and Olga and Papa inside. I love the one with a little crowing cock that pops out of the egg. Alexei likes the one called the Great Siberian Railway Easter Egg. Inside it is a tiny exact model of the Siberian Express, made for Easter in 1900, the year the railway was finished.

  Papa leaves the design of the eggs up to Fabergé, who always has to be careful that Mama’s Easter egg is just as beautiful and clever as Grandmother’s, and the other way around.

  I absolutely love the egg Papa gave to Mama this year. It’s called the Mosaic Egg. It’s completely covered with tiny diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires that form intricate flower designs. The surprise inside is a cameo with the profiles of OTM
A and Alexei carved on a pink stone that’s mounted on a golden stand and surrounded by pearls. We all admired it, but Alexei says his favorite is still the Siberian Express.

  Papa put the egg I made for him in his study.

  9/22 April 1914

  Our cousins have gone! Thank goodness!

  12/25 April 1914

  Papa took us on another long walk. Mama and Alexei joined us later for a picnic, although Mama was feeling weak and needed her wheelchair. An odd thing happened. My sisters and I were picking wildflowers in a meadow, and Alexei was lying on a blanket nearby, staring up at the clear blue sky, when suddenly he said, “I wonder what’s going to happen to us?”

  We asked him what he meant, and he couldn’t explain it — just that he had a strange feeling that something was going to happen, and that next year we wouldn’t be here.

  “Nonsense,” Mama said, but I wasn’t at all sure that he was speaking nonsense. Alexei has a way of sensing things.

  17/30 April 1914

  Edward the Welshman is not going to ask for Olga’s hand after all! I don’t know why — it can’t have been because of the portrait — but I do know that Mama is annoyed. She wants Olga to go to England when she marries and leaves us.

  Olga is relieved. She insists that she doesn’t want to leave at all, and I don’t want her to go.

  19 April/2 May 1914

  Of all the important people who come to visit Papa because he is the tsar of Russia, my favorite is the emir of Bokhara. He’s the most fantastic-looking man — very tall and dark, with a long black robe, and a white turban that glitters with diamonds and rubies. The emir’s mouth peeks out like a little red bird from the nest of his thick beard and mustache, not nicely trimmed like Papa’s but lush as a raspberry thicket. He speaks to us in a droll manner and always brings us sweets and small carved animals from his country.

  23 April/6 May 1914

  Papa told a story at dinner today that had everyone laughing but me. Years ago, when I was only five, my sisters and I had gone swimming in the sea with Papa. Suddenly a great wave came along and swept me off my feet. The next thing I knew, I was being tumbled under the water, wanting to scream but not able to. I was sure I was drowning. Then I felt a yank on my hair. It was my dear papa, holding me by my long hair and towing me to the beach. But I thought it was Neptune taking me to his kingdom beneath the sea.

  For the rest of that day I stayed by Mama and baby Alexei and refused to go back in the water. The next day Papa said I must come in with him. I did, and soon I forgot all about what had happened.

  Today as I dashed into the water, Papa called out, “Watch out that Neptune doesn’t grab you!” He loves to tease me.

  28 April/11 May 1914

  We have lots of birthdays coming up soon in our family. Papa’s is next week, and then Mama’s, and then Tatiana’s. Mashka’s is in June, after mine. We get such a tiny allowance, only twenty rubles each month, that it’s hard to buy much. I bought Tatiana a pair of gloves recently when Madame Gheringer brought her cases of scarves and hosiery and other things for Mama to make her choices. I wanted to buy the white kidskin, but had enough only for lace. I plan to buy Mashka a bottle of her favorite scent, Lilas, when I’ve saved up some money.

  Madame Gheringer is very thin, with a long, sharp nose and eyes set close together. I made a drawing of her in my sketchbook, but I dare not show it to Mama, who chastises me for mocking people.

  2/15 May 1914

  Another visitor: Mama’s friend Lili Dehn. Lili’s husband is first officer of Grandmother’s yacht, Polar Star, and when he’s at sea, she spends time with us.

  Lili is very stylish — she loves the fashionable hobble skirts. When Lili explains that she wears them because they are the fashion, Mama frowns disapprovingly.

  Papa’s cousin, Grand Duke George Mikhailovitch, and his wife, Queen Marie of Greece, and their wretched children are here. Nina is the worst of the lot. She’s exactly two days younger than I am but already a whole head taller! She thinks this gives her the right to lord it over me. I think she is putrid, and I told her so.

  I can hardly wait for them to leave. I’m so much happier when it’s just OTMA and Alexei. (So is Mama, I can tell.)

  6/19 May 1914

  Today is Papa’s birthday. It’s being celebrated very quietly. If we were back in Ts. S. there would probably be all sorts of ceremonies and reviews and such, and Papa would dress up in his uniform with all the gold braid and many ribbons and medals, and sit on his enormous horse.

  We gathered in the courtyard for a lovely cake with lots of whipped cream. Mama has been keeping a sharp eye on Mashka and me, because she sees in us what she calls a “tendency to overweight.” She does not see this tendency in Olga and Tatiana, who are both revoltingly tall and slim.

  7/20 May 1914

  It was Mama’s notion that OTMA should entertain the friends who came to bring Papa birthday greetings. We were each to play a piano piece. I’ve made almost no progress on those dratted Chopin preludes. It’s just that I do so hate to practice. As usual, my sisters performed beautifully. They’ve learned new pieces since our last musicale, and I have not even learned the old one well enough to satisfy either Mama or Miss Kropotkin, our piano teacher.

  Grandmother didn’t come for the event. She never comes here. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I have a feeling that Grandmother and Mama don’t like each other very much. They’re always polite, of course, because it would upset Papa otherwise.

  I believe it’s because Grandmother loves parties and balls and such, and Mama doesn’t. She just wants to be with her family. Sometimes I think Mama is very lonely, and she has only us for company. I even heard Aunt Olga say to Papa, when they didn’t know I was present, “Surely, Nicky, you plan to have a grand ball to present Tatiana. She’s nearly seventeen!”

  And Papa said, “I don’t think Sunny is quite ready for that yet.” (That’s Papa’s name for Mama: Sunny.) He explained that Mama’s nerves are quite strained because of Alexei’s problem. That’s how they always describe his illness: “Alexei’s problem.”

  13/26 May 1914

  Poor Olga! She is absolutely beside herself! Now Crown Prince Carol of Romania wants to marry her, and we are all going to meet the prince and his family. Olga dreads it.

  Mama and Papa think that marrying Prince Carol would be a good thing for Olga. His mother, Queen Marie, is a cousin of both Papa and Mama. Since they are fond of this cousin, they believe that Olga will like Carol, who is twenty-one, just two years older than Olga.

  I do my best to cheer her up, reminding her that Romania is right next door to Russia. But then I found a map and located Bucharest, the capital, and saw that it really is quite far from Ts. S. Still, I promised that we’d see one another often, whenever we’re at Livadia.

  And then I nearly wept, too, because seeing one another often is not like seeing one another every day.

  16/29 May 1914

  All anyone talks about is Olga’s stupid rotten engagement. Our yacht, Standart, has come down from the Baltic Sea to take us over to Romania to meet King Ferdinand and Queen Marie and the crown prince.

  Olga just sits in her room and sulks. She doesn’t even want to talk to Mama, who is rather upset with her. Usually I’m the one Mama is upset with, so this is a nice change, although I do feel sorry for Olga.

  19 May/1 June 1914

  On the Standart

  We love to be on our yacht, but not this time. We’re en route to Romania. Olga’s face is set in a grim expression. In a few hours we’ll arrive in the port of Constanta, to be greeted by Prince Carol and his parents. This isn’t the first time they’ve met: Carol and his family were all present at Olga’s birthday ball in November two years ago. She says she danced with him twice, and that he’s an acceptable dancer but strikes her as very silly. (I like silly people. Olga doesn’t.)

  20 May/2 June 1914


  Standart; Constanta

  King Ferdinand and Queen Marie must really want Olga to marry their son, because they put on a great show for us. From the minute the Standart entered the harbor while bands played and little boats shot plumes of water into the air, we had not a moment to rest. There was barely time to change clothes and get our hair fixed before we were off to the cathedral, a military review, a private luncheon, and a state banquet. It was too boring for words. The only thing even halfway fun was the fireworks that we watched from the deck of our ship. I thought the banquet would never end. Everyone spoke French.

  I amused myself by trying to pick out the ugliest person at each gathering. This was very difficult, and kept me well occupied because there were so many possibilities to choose from!