Read Ebook: Anastasia: The autobiography of H.I.H. the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaevna of Russia by Smith Eugenia Anastasiia Nikolaevna Grand Duchess Daughter Of Nicholas II Emperor Of Russia Dubious Author

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ing for the future.

In 1918, after my escape, I thought that the book I had decided to write about my family and myself might include historical data and interpretation which would be of interest to the world and would be of benefit to the Russian people and to their, and my, native land. I particularly wanted to let the world know the facts about the arrest, exile and murder of my parents, sisters and brother, and about the nature of the Bolshevik regime in my country. It was the notes for this book that I produced so painfully and painstakingly.

These early notes unfortunately vanished in 1919 when I was on my way by train from Rumania to Serbia--second homeland to us Russians--while in the vicinity of Turnu-Severin. I had accepted from another traveller--I thought he was an Italian--his kind offer of a slice of bread and a piece of ham. Three or four hours later I became ill and had to leave the compartment. When I returned some time later, the heartless traveller, who had no pity for a young woman travelling alone, had disappeared along with my suitcase and a blanket. The suitcase contained not only my precious notes, so laboriously produced, but also some personal belongings, some letters, and a list of about one hundred names of the men who had done most of the harm to Russia, and to my family. These names I had written down from memory, based upon information furnished by my rescuer, Alexander. Most of these names were already familiar to me.

In Yugoslavia, I resumed work on my book. I continued the task later in Rumania and, once more, in Yugoslavia. I again wrote many pages of notes, using a pencil stub and scraps of paper. Such of these notes as remained legible were used subsequently in the preparation of the first draft of the present book.

Later, in the early thirties, some years after my arrival in the United States, I began to revise my materials which were in a disorganized but generally readable condition, assisted by my good friends, the late Mrs. Helen Kohlsaat Wells, and her sister, Miss Edith Kohlsaat. During this phase of the undertaking I was determined to complete the book as soon as possible and to make provision for its publication only after my own demise.

For about twenty years, I was unable to work on the manuscript, due to the necessity of making my own living. During this period I gave no attention whatever to the manuscript which I had confided for safekeeping to my lawyer, a friend who was aware of my real identity and who wished to help me ultimately to find a publisher.

Five or six years ago I decided to resume work on the book. A complete revision and reorganization of my materials were again required. Once more I had the benefit of Helen Wells' assistance and counsel.

I had also the great and valued encouragement of my good friends the late John Adams Chapman and Mrs. Marjorie Wilder Emery.

They, and their father, Mr. Robert E. B. Speller, Sr., President of the firm, after reading the manuscript became convinced for various reasons that the manuscript could have been written only by a member of the Imperial family. They questioned me at length and finally I confided to Dr. Jon Speller and then to Mr. Robert Speller, Jr. that their suspicions were correct, that I was Anastasia, but that, if possible, I would like to retain my anonymity.

Therefore the polygraph examination, given by the noted polygraph expert Mr. Cleve Backster, was begun by testing me on my statements that I was a friend of Anastasia. Mr. Backster quickly recognized that I was withholding pertinent information, even to the extent that I could be Anastasia; I finally admitted my real identity to him. In a series lasting more than thirty hours in all, Mr. Backster became convinced that I am really Anastasia. I signed a contract with Robert Speller & Sons and began editing my book with Mr. Earl L. Packer, senior editor of the firm, and Mr. Robert Speller, Jr.

My reasons for bringing the book before the world at the present time will, I hope, be readily understood. They are not complicated. First, I wished to come to the defense of my deceased parents, against whom many unfounded accusations and slanders were made. Second, I felt that various distortions of history which have been given wide circulation needed to be corrected. Third, I wished to expose the falsity of the claims of other persons to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia. Fourth, I desired to establish a foundation which would set up a museum, with a small chapel therein, to honor my family who loved Russia so faithfully; and also to assure, in so far as I might be able to do so, funds for its maintenance, hoping proceeds from the sale of the book might in large measure provide such funds. Fifth, I wished to establish a fund for the provision of financial assistance to destitute former Russian soldiers and officers; again I hoped that the proceeds of the sale of the book might help in this undertaking. Sixth, I planned that, in the event the proceeds of the sale of my book should provide sufficient funds to enable me to do so, I would assist financially a very small number of charitable and philanthropic organizations which, for the most part, I have already definitively selected.

Sometime earlier I had come to doubt that, if publication of the book were postponed until after my death, as I had earlier resolved, my projects would ever materialize. Also, I thought unlikely the possibility that anyone but myself could or would make knowledgeable and effective defense against whatever unfavorable criticism might be made of the book and myself upon its publication.

I have had the opportunity for a relatively quiet life in the United States, where I have had comparative freedom from all the attentions that might have surrounded an earlier reappearance in the world in my true identity. But my purposes, as enumerated above, could not be accomplished by remaining longer submerged. So I have resolved to balance the opportunities for good against the possible personal inconveniences, hoping still to be able, after publication of my book, to continue to live undisturbed a simple, private life devoted in large part to further writing.

A.N.R. 1963

ANASTASIA

PART I The Youthful Years

I EARLIEST MEMORIES

It was June 5th, 1901, by the Russian calendar, June 18th by the new. Suspense and excitement abounded at Peterhof. The accouchement of the Tsarina was momentarily expected. The fourth child, surely this time it would be a boy. Russia bowed to the little Grand Duchess Olga, then to the baby Tatiana. But Marie, a third daughter in succession, had been entirely too many. However, all would be righted if this fourth child were the long-awaited Tsarevich.

At last, the guns: the baby had arrived; a three hundred gun salute would announce an Imperial Grand Duke and heir to the Russian throne. One hundred and one guns would announce a Grand Duchess. The guns saluted a second time. The people paused to count--three, four, five, on and on, came the rhythmical booms. The populace stood breathless. Twenty-three, on and on, one hundred, one hundred and one, the guns stopped. No, it could not be. It was not possible. Alas, yes. The fourth child of the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia was another daughter. Caught in an anticlimax, the man in the street went his way, but diplomatic Russia said "Bah" and resented the Tsarina who could not fulfill her function. The Tsar and the Tsarina accepted the inevitable and said, "It is God's will."

All the while I, the unconscious cause of this frustration, had lain peacefully in the same little crib which had cradled the three sisters before me. It was not long however before the unwelcomed wee one won the hearts of its parents and I was christened Anastasia, but to the world outside I was number four, almost forgotten beyond the family circle.

As a child, my tomboy spirit predominated and I was permitted to indulge this urge until I became something of a novelty in a court reeking with formality. Nothing pleased me more than an audience, especially when they nodded and whispered "cute."

My next older sister Marie and I were inseparable. At an early age my greatest delight was to arouse her curiosity. Often when we were at the height of some make-believe, I would suddenly dart away. Marie was as slow to action as I was quick, so I would slip out of sight into one of my hiding places. Then began the hunt I revelled in. The searchers went around, as I listened from my vantage point, purring with satisfaction when I heard the call, "Anastasia, where are you? Be a good girl and give us a hint." These games began good-naturedly, but often when the hunt dragged on, I lost patience and felt compelled to reveal my whereabouts.

Secret hiding places became an obsession with me, especially tiny ones so snug I had to squeeze into them. There I often stayed gloating over the bewilderment and eventual rage of searchers. Once when I was quite young I slipped out of the nursery onto the balcony. It was late in the afternoon and the long shadows fascinated me, so that I must have remained there quietly for a long time. Suddenly I heard excited voices and I decided to keep perfectly quiet. At dusk, in the uncertain light, I flattened myself against the shadowed wall. The sentries were spreading over the park; the worry was growing. I was thrilled when I knew they were searching for me, but I was a little frightened of the gathering darkness. I ran quickly down the stairs and to the main floor. Mother was talking to one of the officers when her eyes suddenly fell on me.

"Anastasia," she cried, "where have you been?"

"Right on the balcony and no one could find me," I answered with all the glee in my voice I could muster.

Almost before I could finish, Father was beside me. He took me by the hand. One look at his face warned me that something was very wrong. Without a word he signaled to the distressed nurse. Her face was flushed. She marched me to my room and I never ventured one look of triumph as she undressed me. She did not say a word until I was in bed. Then she said, "You were a very naughty girl to worry your Mother so. She was very hurt."

Mother always came to kiss me goodnight. I didn't stir in my bed lest I should miss her footsteps. Finally I heard her approaching with my sisters; their voices sounded happy. She stopped at the door for only a moment, and Marie entered the room alone. When the nurse turned out the lights, I realized that Mother was not going to kiss me that night.

The next morning a penitent little girl asked herself: "Will Mother come to me now?" And: "Will she be cross with me?" I was full of contrition, but how could I express it if Mother were not in a receptive mood? My eyes fastened on the door, hoping to see Mother's face. Suddenly she appeared. I ran to her and wrapped myself around her neck. I promised never to worry her again.

Mother's daily round took her to the nursery the first thing every morning before breakfast to say a prayer with us children and to read one chapter to us from the Bible. She was usually attired in a beautiful dressing gown of white--occasionally in other soft colors--her hair braided and tied with silk ribbon to match the trimming of her gown, a habit acquired from her grandmother, Queen Victoria of England. These were precious moments to us children. She was a fairytale empress--stately and beautiful.

On July 30th, 1904, Russian calendar, August 12th by the new, my little brother was born on a Friday noon. Three hundred guns announced the birth of the heir from the Fortress of Sts. Peter and Paul, in St. Petersburg.

On the same day, it was learned that the Russian fleet at Port Arthur had been sunk on August 10th by the Japanese navy. My Mother often said it was a day of sunshine and a day of darkness at the same time. It would have been customary to hold a large banquet to celebrate the birth of an heir to the throne but my Father would not hear of it. Instead, prayers were offered in the churches for the lost ones at sea and for the baby Tsarevich. All day long the bells rang out from all the churches of Russia. Thirteen years later Mother spoke of this day as being as gloomy as the day we arrived in Ekaterinburg. It was on Alexei's thirteenth birthday, and about the same hour in 1917, that the family was informed they must leave their beloved home in Tsarskoe Selo.

Now that this handsome brother had arrived, the handicap of my life, that of being a girl, seemed somewhat lifted. Alexei was a beautiful little boy with a very light complexion and curly auburn hair which my Mother brushed lovingly into a curl in the middle, big blue eyes, long eyelashes and a most alluring smile. He was the most fascinating thing in my existence, so whenever an opportunity presented itself, I ran into his nursery bringing various toys to him. Mother had many pet names for him, among them: "My precious Agoo" and "Kroshka" which means crumb. Olga and Tatiana were permitted to hold the baby; Marie and I could only hold his feet.

One of my most vivid childhood experiences, when I was nearly four years old, happened on a Sunday when we sisters as usual were dressed in white, ready to go to church. We heard excited voices and saw Mother running upstairs. This frightened us and we all ran after her to the nursery. There I saw a spot of blood on little Alexei's shirt. While nurse was bathing him he sneezed, thereby causing a discharge of blood from his navel. Though I was very young, I could easily tell from the faces about me that something was wrong. At the time just what it was I could not understand. A few years later, when I was about seven, we three younger children were playing in the garden when our brother fell over his cart. Soon a large blue swelling developed around his ankle. When Mother came she fainted at the sight, knowing it was the dreaded haemophilia that might kill her son. As a result, the lives of Father and Mother were noticeably saddened. Father searched in every country for a specialist, but without success.

We were continually reminded that we must be careful of Alexei. He was so easily hurt. The toys I was in the habit of bringing to him were removed before they reached his hands. Once he fell on his head and his face swelled so terribly that his eyes were almost closed and his whole face became a purplish yellow, a dreadful sight. At one moment he would be perfectly well; an hour later, he would lie in bed seriously ill. We were instructed not to speak to anybody about it, but we innocently gave away the secret of his illness to some members of our staff who had led us into believing that they already knew all about it.

Mother was constantly at his side, never trusting any one else to care for him. Each time, when he recovered, Mother was entirely exhausted, so much so that she was unable to leave her room for days at a time.

When Alexei was well and his normal chubby self, it was hard to remember that we had to be careful when we played with him. I often felt belligerent when he teased me saying, "Go away, you're playing just like a little girl; you don't know this game." I maintained my composure pretty well and occasionally retaliated by refusing to play with him, but he bitterly complained of such treatment. Suddenly he would be well again at which time it was difficult to restrain him from getting too bold or playing games that might end in disaster.

Alexei had several guards, Cossacks who were trustworthy and on duty day and night. Every morning they searched the palace grounds before any member of the family could walk about in them. Alexei also had two special attendants. One was Derevenko, nicknamed Dina, a huge strong sailor, a member of the crew of Father's yacht, the "Standard." He was no relation of Dr. Derevenko, Alexei's physician. Dina applied hot compresses and light massages to Alexei, when they were needed. Dina also gave foam treatments, and always carried him around when he was not able to walk. Unfortunately Dina turned against his master during the revolution and was later arrested by the Soviets when they found some of Alexei's belongings in his luggage.

The other attendant was Nagorny. He was the last to give Alexei his usual care. Nagorny took charge of him during the revolution, and was killed in Ekaterinburg because he defended the little boy's property. These two, Dina and Nagorny, were constantly at Alexei's side to see that he did not harm himself. They helped my brother to grow to normal boyhood by using the exercises prescribed by Dr. Derevenko and the suggestions of M. Pierre Gilliard, our French tutor. They helped to carry on in such a way that the little fellow never suspected that he was being shielded. For he was not told of the serious nature of his illness but was to realize it for himself when he grew older.

At his birth Alexei received many titles: "Hetman of all the Cossacks," "Knight of St. Andrew," "Knight of the Seraphim of Sweden," "Head of the Battalion of the Horse Infantry," "Head of the Siberian Infantry," "Head of the Cadet Corps" and others. Alexei loved everything military. I think he had a uniform for almost every military order in Russia. He was so proud to wear each one, and carried himself with true military bearing. From childhood he had worn a white sailor suit with ribbons around his collar. When we cruised in the Baltic, he wore a white sailor cap with the name "Standard" in white on a blue band. When cruising on the Black Sea he had a black band with yellow lettering.

One day in a snow storm I pulled Alexei on his sled. Then he insisted that it was his turn to pull me. Soon his hands became swollen but fortunately this did not result in one of his serious attacks. He was not permitted to take part freely in sports, though he was allowed to ride a tricycle and later a bicycle, when he was carefully followed by Dina. Finally he was allowed to drive a small motor car with his cousins or a friend.

Gentle as Father was, I took those remarks seriously, because I knew he always meant what he said. So I applied myself to the idea of "being a lady." It soon paid off. Some time later when I was roaming through the park I chanced upon two workmen who were fighting in the ravine. It looked serious and desperate. With all the ladyship I could muster I ordered them to stop. To my astonishment they did. The contrast between little me and those two, so huge and menacing, convinced me that there must be something in this ladylike business after all.

The park surrounding our home at Tsarskoe Selo lent itself to my eager desire for exploring the world around me, although even this could not satisfy my curiosity about that part of the world which lay beyond the fence. One afternoon I found an owl opposite the balcony in the garden. I had seen something flying which fell to the ground. When I ran to it I found an owl which did not move. I wanted to pick it up, but was told it was bad luck to do so. In spite of this advice, I picked up the bird and stroked and fed it. In a short time it became a real pet so it could even recognize my step. It always stayed nearby, hopping about in a small area, though it didn't seem to be hurt. Whenever it heard me, it would fly up and sit on the rail of the balcony. While the owl was perched there, it seemed to stare at me and I could not resist walking around, fascinated by its twisting neck and staring eyes which apparently followed my movements.

Most of the time I was content to wander through our fairyland park with my sisters and brother. Its beauty was overwhelming with fine vistas embracing gardens, ravines, lakes and even islands. We often sailed our toy boats on the lake or rowed Alexei in a boat Sometimes we sat on shore watching the varied reflections on the surface of the lake. These might be reflections of the Feodorovsky Sobor with its golden cupola, or again a glimpse of the luxuriant tree tops, or the rapidly changing cloud formations. On the lake the swans glided back and forth in graceful splendor, but, when they came near our shores, with one stroke they erased all the pictures before our eyes.

These swans were my special pets. I usually carried bread to throw to them. One day in a mischievous mood, I made them think I had come to feed them. When they swam toward me expectantly, I ran away. I was suddenly thrown to the ground, and the largest of the swans with his wings spread wide stood over me. He began to beat me with his wings. My screams brought help from one of the guards, who drove off the swan. When I stopped sobbing I had not lost my love for the swans, but I had learned I could not tease them.

Father found time to visit us at play every day, often only for a few minutes, but he made us happy with these visits. Sometimes he watched us as we went down the slide which had been installed in a large room on the ground floor. He whistled as each child took her turn and the rest of us jumped up and down expressing delight.

Several times, as a great treat, we children were permitted to take our bath in Father's big, sunken tile tub, large enough for one to swim several strokes. After the bath we romped over the huge couch in Father's dressing room, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

Mother called Father's study "the forbidden land." We children were not allowed to enter it, which made me rather curious about it. I often ran down the hall, hoping that I would find a way to get into the study, but there was always someone who would send me back. If I could have found out what Father did there, I would have been satisfied. One day I managed to slip through the narrow passage of his dressing room and opened the door leading into his study. I was breathless with excitement, but kept quiet. I was about to open the door for a tiny peek, to see if Father were there, when I heard footsteps. I decided to retreat quietly as if I had gotten there by mistake. But as I backed out I had moved too quickly and gone too far. I rolled down several steps right into the middle of Father's sunken tub. Fortunately I was not hurt, but my feelings were. I extricated myself and retreated down the hall in the midst of laughter. I never did know my discoverer.

My curiosity was still not satisfied, and I was determined to keep trying. I used all sorts of excuses for going to his study with pressing messages or gifts. But Mother spoke with finality: "Father cannot be disturbed in his work." In spite of Mother's words, the opportunity finally presented itself. One day I stood quivering on the threshold. There was Father at his desk looking quite serious. I leaned forward on my toes to take in all that I could see, so far forward that I lost my balance and fell on my face into the room. I was terribly frightened, but Father rushed to me and with a smile picked me up saying: "What are you doing here, baby?" Then he sat me down at his desk and held me on his knees. I was speechless to think I was in the forbidden place. I glanced at piles of papers, then at Father's face. With a hug and a kiss he deposited me in the hallway. "Now run along, my little Curiosity." I skipped away elated and I could hardly wait to tell Marie I had actually been in "the forbidden land."

I was often instrumental in getting my sister and my brother in trouble. When we drove to Pavlovsk, a short distance from Tsarskoe Selo, I watched for the moment when the nurse was occupied with my cousin's attendant. I snapped my fingers--a signal to dash to the brook for the mud fight. Within seconds our faces and white clothes were beyond recognition. These mud fights made the nurse furious. Once when she rebuked me, she said it was a pity I had not been born a boy. This worried me so, I went to Mother with the question, "Do you love me, Mother?" "You know I do, little Shvibzchik," was her reply, using her pet name for me. "But if I were a boy, would you love me more?" I questioned her tearfully. Mother understood; she shook her head a decided "No" and I was satisfied.

Sometimes after tea, I slipped into the servants' quarters to partake of tea again, because I thought they had more interesting things to eat. I was quite wrapped up in my small world without realizing that there was any other. And yet being born into a royal family I still kept wondering whether I should have been someone else. I wondered if my grandmother, the Dowager Empress Marie, ever forgave me for not being a boy. That might explain her critical attitude toward me. I thought I sensed an unsympathetic bearing in her and I often retaliated by being irritable which in turn justified her criticism of me. On second thought this same Grandmother understood me perhaps better than anyone else. When all despaired of me, she would say, "Don't worry, she'll tame down after a while." This may have been a comforting thought to my family, but not to me. I did not want to be like my Granny, not at all. She was small, dark-eyed, deep-voiced, always beautifully groomed. I wanted to be like Tatiana, tall, beautiful and graceful. Often after I was tucked in bed, I whispered a prayer that God might transform me overnight into a girl like Tatiana. Grandmother was Alexei's favorite. He loved her more than we sisters did. She was Father's mother and there was a strong bond between them.

I remember the satisfaction I felt when some Danish relatives were visiting us and my Grandmother said to one, "Anastasia is certainly small," and the relative replied, "You are not very tall yourself." This kind person must have sensed that I was touchy about my height and she attempted to defend me before Grandmother.

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