Anastasia

by Carolyn Meyer

  10/23 September 1915

  Mama hardly has time to help us decide what clothes to wear. Olga and Tatiana dress in their gray Red Cross uniforms. Before they leave for the hospital, Tatiana picks out the dresses, shoes, hats, and so on that Mashka and I must put on. She’s so bossy that we call her “the Governess.” She even tells Olga what to do, and Olga does it!

  Father Grigory is here almost every day now. He and Mama talk over all kinds of things, because with Papa away it is up to Mama to look after the government. She says Father Grigory’s advice is better than anybody else’s, and she trusts him completely because he’s a man of God. “Just look what he’s done for Baby and for Anya.” And that’s true.

  (But I don’t think Alexei likes it when Mama calls him Baby. He would much rather be called Your Imperial Highness, or some other grand title.)

  26 September/9 October 1915

  Papa came home and announced another big decision: He’s taking Alexei to Stavka with him. It’s breaking Mama’s heart to send “Baby” away, but she believes it will be good for Papa and good for Alexei in the long run.

  1/14 October 1915

  Such an emotional day. We went to the railroad station to see off Papa and Alexei. We were all in tears, but I was not weeping too hard, because M. Gilliard and Mr. Gibbes went with them, and I won’t be plagued with French and English lessons while they’re gone. That leaves Professor Petrov, but I can always get my way with him.

  25 October/7 November 1915

  Mashka’s Kolya was at Mass today. Somehow she managed to sit so they could look sideways at each other and exchange smiles. It is so amusing, but she gets furious when I tease her.

  14/27 November 1915

  Papa and Alexei spent weeks touring the front lines. From all reports, Alexei adored every minute of it, but Mama was beside herself with worry the whole time. Now we hear that they’re safely back at Stavka, and Mama is more at ease.

  19 November/2 December 1915

  This is so disgusting! There’s a mouse in our bedroom. I can hear it scratching around at night, and twice I’ve seen it dart under the bed. I’m thinking of borrowing Alexei’s pussycat and putting her to work.

  4/17 December 1915

  Alexei’s problems have worsened, and he’s been brought home again from Stavka. How disappointed he is! It began with a cold, and when Alexei had a sneezing fit, he developed a nosebleed. The doctor couldn’t stop it, and it went from bad to worse. M. Gilliard rode with him on the train, and I heard him tell Professor Petrov that there were several times on the journey when he had feared my brother was truly dying.

  Now Alexei is feeling better, and all he can talk about is his life with the army, and how he was allowed to sit in on important meetings with Papa and review the troops with Papa and so on. All this is to get him ready for the day when he will become tsar.

  I play cards with him by the hour, to try to cheer him up. When he isn’t hurting, he demands to know when he can go back to Stavka.

  6/19 December 1915

  Father Grigory came today, at Mama’s request. As always, Alexei seems much better after his visit. It’s so cold here that we can’t keep warm. Inspired by the freezing weather inside the palace, Alexei is knitting a scarf, using whatever bits and pieces of colored wool we can find for him. I taught him the stitches, and it keeps him quiet and contented.

  Today is Papa’s name day, in honor of St. Nicholas, and Father Vasilev gave him a special blessing at lunch.

  7/20 December 1915

  Baroness Buxhoeveden organized a cinema in the main hall of the hospital yesterday, and Mashka and I helped wheel the wounded in so that they could watch the films. Only one of the films was truly funny. I wonder why they don’t show more funny ones.

  9/22 December 1915

  Alexei’s knitted scarf grows longer and longer. We are kept busy hunting for wool for it.

  12/25 December 1915

  Late this afternoon Papa kissed us all and left again for Stavka. He says we must get used to his absence, that it’s a small sacrifice to make for Russia, and reminds us of the poor boys in our hospitals who are far from home.

  19 December 1915/1 January 1916

  Poor Mama is in bed, miserable with a toothache. Her cheek is badly swollen.

  25 December 1915/7 January 1916

  Christmas

  This seems almost like any other day, except we exchanged gifts. I was afraid that Alexei would give his famous scarf to one of us and then we would have to wear it so as not to hurt his feelings. But he says it’s for his new puppy, Joy. Thank goodness, because it’s quite ugly, and I feel partly responsible.

  29 December 1915/11 January 1916

  Joy shares my opinion of the scarf. It’s two meters long — or was, until the puppy decided to unknit it. Now it’s a pile of unraveled yarn, and Alexei is in tears. Good sister that I am, I promised to help him mend it.

  2/15 January 1916

  Alexei is better, but still needs lots of rest. He keeps asking when he can go back to Stavka with Papa, but no one will answer that.

  He asked me to write in his diary while he dictates what to put down. Papa told him that keeping a diary is important for a future tsar, but Alexei is lazy and wants someone else to do it for him.

  22 January/4 February 1916

  Some sailors from the Standart have begun to build a snow mountain in our park. “The higher the better!” I tell them, and they laugh and promise to make it as high as the Ural Mountains.

  27 January/9 February 1916

  We were supposed to help with the snow mountain, but instead we threw snowballs at the sailors, keeping them from their work. I took photographs of all of them.

  31 January/13 February 1916

  Anya was inspired to arrange a concert at her hospital this afternoon. The star was a sweet little ten-year-old girl who performed a Russian folk dance, accompanied by a concertina. Very popular.

  3/16 February 1916

  The sailors spent the day carrying water from under the ice of the pond and hauling it to the top of the snow mountain. It froze almost as quickly as it was poured, and we’ll now have a fine place to run our sleds.

  I think I’m coming down with a cold.

  8/21 February 1916

  Mashka is in such a state! She has just learned that her Kolya is leaving in a few weeks, and she has decided to sew him a shirt as a farewell present. I said I thought Alexei would probably be happy to knit him a scarf like Joy’s, and she told me not to make jokes. Kolya is going to the front, and no one knows when she’ll see him again. I think she really does care for him, and I’m sorry I teased her.

  15/28 February 1916

  Butterweek! The chef managed to get all the butter we wanted for our blini. I must have eaten two dozen. Tatiana looks at me sharply. “A good thing you’ll now have seven weeks of fasting,” she says. Nasty thing! Just because she is slim as a willow!

  24 February/8 March 1916

  My sisters and I had a glorious time racing our sleds down our snow mountain, but poor Alexei was not even allowed to come watch. Mama’s orders. She’s desperately afraid he’ll hurt himself, since even a minor injury turns into a major one for Alexei. If Papa were here, he would take Alexei’s side and insist that he be allowed, with Derevenko or Nagorny to keep close watch on him. But Papa isn’t here, and Mama rules.

  Father Grigory came for dinner. I asked to be excused as soon as I could get away with it.

  26 February/10 March 1916

  We went for a drive in the troika after tea today, but without the little bells on the three horses (forbidden during the Great Fast), a sleigh ride is not so much fun.

  Kolya leaves tomorrow. Mashka had the shirt she made delivered to him, and he called her on the telephone to thank her and to say good-bye. I don’t know what else they talked about, because when I tried to listen, Mashka looked cross and shooed me away.

/>   13/26 March 1916

  Anya’s weekly concert featured a pair of acrobats, a father and his son who performed incredible feats. We held our breath and could hardly keep from crying out. I had the awful feeling that Alexei would want to try some of their exploits. Apparently Mama was thinking the same thing, for she lectured him quite sternly about it and warned Derevenko to keep a sharp watch over him.

  19 March/1 April 1916

  Natasha’s Vladya died during the night. She’s inconsolable, poor thing.

  2/15 April 1916

  Papa will not be spending Easter with us! The Feast of Feasts, the greatest day of the whole year, and he’s off with his troops. As I complained bitterly about this, Alexei looked at me scathingly and said, “This is war. The tsar’s place is with his troops.”

  Alexei is aching to be back at Stavka with Papa, and Mama says she’ll allow him to go in a few weeks if he doesn’t injure himself.

  This is one way to keep him off the snow mountain.

  10/23 April 1916

  Easter

  The procession on Good Friday was very beautiful and very moving. Round and round the church we walked, behind the chanting priests, the air so still that we didn’t have to shield the candle flames with our hands. Last night, after the midnight service, we ate kulich with sweet cheese but without Papa here, it didn’t taste nearly so good. People sent us Easter eggs of various kinds, and Mama and Papa had porcelain eggs made to give to army officers. Mama’s Fabergé egg is made of steel, mounted on four bullet shapes. Papa says it’s called the Military Egg. In my opinion it’s very ugly.

  It’s been two years since we spent Easter at Livadia, but I have made up my mind not to mention it. My sisters say I whine a lot. I must show them how brave and uncomplaining I am!

  20 April/3 May 1916

  Papa is home for a short stay. He’ll take Alexei back to Stavka with him.

  4/17 May 1916

  How quiet it seems! Papa is gone; Alexei, too, Monsieur Gilliard, and Mr. Gibbes with them. There is such a thing as too much quiet.

  The trees are starting to turn green again. Mama says this is a sign of God’s love for us.

  Tatiana and Olga lounge on their windowsill and sunbathe. Also — the snow mountain is slowly melting.

  7/20 May 1916

  Suddenly the sun disappeared, it’s raining, and once again we’re shivering and reaching for our shawls. I’m sure we’re all thinking of Livadia, but none of us mentions it. Since it’s so unpleasant outside, Mashka and I are practicing playing musical instruments together. She plays the piano, and I play the balalaika. We sound quite good, and I’ve suggested that we perform at one of Anya’s Sunday afternoon concerts. I’m sure the soldiers would find us delightful.

  14/27 May 1916

  We’ve received the dearest letter from Alexei — he’s been promoted to the rank of corporal, and he’s as proud as though he were a general! Mama says we may all go to Stavka for Alexei’s birthday. But that’s almost three months away!

  21 May/3 June 1916

  Glorious weather. There’s just one small heap of dirty snow left from our snow mountain where the sun does not strike it.

  The park and palace grounds have become overgrown and neglected because so many of the groundskeepers are away at war. We’ve been pulling weeds that are choking out the lilies of the valley. The lilacs are in bloom, and we’ve gathered armloads of them and arranged them in Mama’s boudoir. I feel very virtuous when I do such work, as though I were a peasant. That’s rather fun, at times.

  28 May/10 June 1916

  The news from the front is tremendously encouraging. The new offensive begun last week in Galicia (that’s southern Poland) was a complete triumph. Now, on to Vienna! Mama says the tide of the war is definitely turning in our favor. I hope so, because I’m completely sick of it.

  5/18 June 1916

  I am fifteen years old.

  My life has changed, but not in ways that I had hoped it would. For one thing, Mama seems not to have noticed that I’m growing up. She still seems to think we’re all children. Mashka will be seventeen in a few days (Kolya sent her a card, which she refused to show me); Tatiana just turned nineteen; and Olga will be twenty-one in November!

  My favorite birthday gift (aside from another diamond for the necklace I’m to get next year) is a table-tennis set. I make my sisters play with me, but Mashka complains that she must spend too much time down on the floor looking for balls that go off the table.

  20 June/3 July 1916

  Such fun Mashka and I had today! We strung a hammock between two trees near the path by the balcony. We got in it together and started rocking, back and forth, until it turned over. I fell out flat on my face, but Mashka hung on like a monkey and laughed herself silly. Next, it was my turn, and I paid her back!

  2/15 July 1916

  Monsieur Gilliard is on leave and came to dinner with us. It was nice to have him here as a friend and not as a tutor. After dinner, he chatted with us while I knitted and my sisters sewed madly on shirts for officers who are leaving the hospital soon to return to the fighting at the front. I pray with all my soul that they will be safe and not be brought back to us again.

  30 July/12 August 1916

  Stavka

  As promised, we’re here to celebrate Alexei’s twelfth birthday. We went sailing on the Dnieper River on a sweet little yacht, and we all made a great fuss over Alexei with lots of presents, but he seems more grown up and serious.

  Such fun, living on our train again, although it is rather hot. The train station is far from town, and we have nowhere to go except out into the countryside, where we visit with the peasants and feed sweets to the adorable children who follow us around like puppies. We feel so much freer here than we do in Tsarskoe Selo.

  If Mama and the Big Pair didn’t have so much work at their hospital, we could come more often. When I grumbled about that, Mama told me I must not be selfish but think of those who are sacrificing so much. That made me feel guilty — exactly what Mama intended, I suppose.

  12/25 September 1916

  Ts. S.

  No matter how many promises I make to myself, I keep forgetting to write in this diary. Maybe forgetting is not the right word. It seems that everything I have to put down is either discouraging (Romania has declared war on Germany, and Papa is very worried) or boring (lessons) or just silly. Maybe today I’ll write about something silly, such as the new game we’ve made up: riding our bicycles at breakneck speed through the palace halls. By “we,” I mean Mashka and me. Tatiana is too sensible to indulge in such foolishness, and Olga is always too busy reading some book or other. So far we’ve had several spectacular crashes but amazingly have not yet broken a single thing.

  17/30 October 1916

  War news hasn’t been good lately, and I don’t want to write about it because today is supposed to be a celebration — the second anniversary of the founding of the hospital here at the Great Palace. There was a concert this afternoon by the orchestra from the Standart. I recognized lots of the pieces they used to play on the yacht, and it made all of us feel sad — including, I think, the musicians.

  21 October/3 November 1916

  Olga has gotten a kitten, an adorable little thing. She wears a blue ribbon with a tiny bell around her neck. Maybe this will put an end to our mouse roommates, who came back as soon as the weather turned cold. Alexei’s cat proved much too lazy for the job, and when Alexei went to stay at Stavka, it ran away and has never been seen again. Actually it was a bad-tempered thing, and I don’t miss it.

  More awful news about the war. The Germans have occupied most of Romania, and Papa has ordered troops to try to save Bucharest, the capital. To think that Olga might be there now if she had married Prince Carol!

  27 October/9 November 1916

  Papa is taking Alexei to visit Grandmother in Kiev, where she now lives. I used to complain some
times about her formal Sunday luncheons, where I was expected to behave perfectly and speak French and eat all kinds of foreign food, but now I miss her very much and would even eat those snails if she asked me to.

  2/15 November 1916

  Papa and Alexei came here from Kiev, and both are in a black mood. Alexei complains that Papa was gruff with him (and Papa is never gruff!). I have even heard Mama and Papa exchange sharp words. The subject is Father Grigory. Mama gets lots of help and advice from him when Papa is away, and Papa doesn’t agree with that advice. He says that Father Grigory may be a saint and a miracle worker, but he is not the tsar and should not tell Mama which government leaders to dismiss and whom to appoint. I’m not supposed to know any of this.