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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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.

When Father's work was done for the day, he would enter Mother's apartment and whistle melodiously. This was the signal for a family get-together or for an exercise outdoors. Sometimes Father took me on a walk alone. He listened seriously to my talk and pretended to be concerned about my petty problems. I swelled with pride that he considered my little world was as important as his. He was a lover of nature, and this knowledge made our walks even more interesting.

Father had the reputation of being graceful and a good tennis player. He played with the best professionals in the Crimea and won most of the time. Olga and Tatiana often played with him and I looked forward to the day when I would be able to match him in a real game. But that day never came. Before the war I was too young, and during the war there was no opportunity. I did return the balls occasionally when Father was practicing.

II SCHOOL DAYS

With excitement I looked forward to my first day of school. I was anxious to make a good impression on my teachers. Dressed in a blue or white pinafore and with ribbon bows on my hair, holding my Mother's hand, I felt quite grown up as I joined Marie in the school room on the second floor of the palace. I was proud to hear Mother say that I was good, quiet, and thoughtful as I sat at a fair-sized table opposite my tutor, answering the questions. But to Mother's disappointment my good behavior did not last long. As the days passed, confinement began to irk me and I longed for the outdoors. School became a difficult chore for me, and no doubt I was difficult for my teachers. My mind turned to the other side of the classroom door. Only the threat of punishment could bring me to a school desk at all, and once there, instead of concentrating on my lessons, I planned my activities for the hours after school.

My mind dreamed about Vanka, the donkey, when she came as a present to Alexei. She was very bright and extremely stubborn. She was named for a character in a humorous Russian song of the time. Vanka was cunning. When Alexei hurt himself, she laid her head on his shoulder as if she were crying. She could shake hands, wobble as if dancing, and rolled her eyes flirtatiously. She understood every word we said, often shook her ears in joy. But when things were not in her favor, she stared straight at us. Her ears stood up into a half-cone. She had been a circus donkey, but she would only perform when she felt like it. Derevenko, the sailor, could make her walk while I rode her, but she wanted a lump of sugar in payment for every step she took.

"Anastasia, put your mind on your work," jarred my consciousness away from Vanka and back into the classroom. I did like arithmetic and drawing. I would often doodle until my pencil was taken away and the lessons resumed. In the spring it was more difficult to concentrate. The warm, sweet air and the chirping birds would not let me sit still.

Often after school, Mother would take me to my favorite farm where I felt complete freedom. Here were many soft creatures to cuddle: tiny pink piglets, toylike lambs, calves and colts, the cutest I ever saw. There were human babies, too, belonging to the farm workers, but Olga had a way of monopolizing them. Every place we went the children followed us and were anxious to show anything new that happened. They all spoke at once, excitedly. We pretended to be surprised, which encouraged them to tell each story over again.

One day one of the workers gave me a tiny chick, born late in the season. We put it in a basket with some straw in it. I covered it with my handkerchief and went ahead of Mother to hide it in the carriage, and waited there impatiently. I was afraid that the little thing would die before we reached home. Soon after Mother heard the chick cry, she said, "You have taken a baby from its mother. You must keep it well and happy." This chick taught me my first lesson in responsibility. You never saw so much affection lavished on such a small thing. I fed it most tenderly and presented it with my precious pillow which until then had belonged to my doll. In spite of my devoted care the chick's cries grew fainter and fainter and one morning I found it lying on its back. It was a shock.

I decided to give my chick a funeral. I dressed it regally with veil and gown and, as a great concession, I allowed Marie and Alexei to help lay the little form on a mattress of rose petals in a pretty box. A bouquet of white flowers was placed on its breast. Then we invited everyone to the funeral. Besides, I wanted no one to miss seeing how beautifully I had prepared my pet. Alexei was the priest, Marie and I chanted mournfully. Derevenko, the sailor, prepared the grave. The box was opened for all to see. At last the box was closed and placed on top of a stretcher, which was hoisted up on the pallbearers' shoulders. I, the chief mourner, led the procession with a black band on my arm. We buried the box amidst quantities of flowers, then marked the grave with the prettiest stones.

For a week I mourned at the grave every day, wondering how the chick looked after its journey to heaven. Finally, I dug up the box. I opened the cover expecting that the little angel had flown away, but instead I ran to Mother to tell her the worms were eating my pet. Mother explained that the box contained the shell of the chick, the soul was already flown away, now nature was destroying only the shell.

I was quite socially inclined, and made calls on anyone staying in the palace. I chatted with all on various subjects. "If Olga and Tatiana ever marry, will they leave us? Olga squeezed an orange peel yesterday and it squirted right into my eye. Do you know that Mashka put on her underwear wrong side out and refused to change it, it is very bad luck. Did you hear that "baby" painted a droopy mustache on his face with a crayon? Olga says, he looks like the Cossack in Riepin's painting. Do you know that painting? Why do you think Marie did not take her cold bath this morning? Olga says that mother kangaroos hide their babies in a sack on their bodies and the babies poke their heads out to see where they are going. Why doesn't papa get cribs for the kangarooshkas?" These ideas or others like them were expressed to all in five to ten minutes of social visits. Sometimes I asked them to tell me stories like the Golden Apple and the Princess. I clapped my hands and thanked them for the most delicious story. If anyone was not well, I was ready to play nurse. My one cure for the indisposed was always a wet towel on the forehead.

Some of my most pleasant early memories about Mother were the times when she told us stories. There was one favorite she was asked to repeat over and over. One day she changed the words slightly and I burst into tears, saying: "But, Mommy, I like the old story better."

At the time of this American's visit, the nurse was supposed to bring me downstairs when Mother rang the bell. But, when I heard the signal, I ran ahead, and flew down the spiral stairway as fast as my feet could carry me, and burst breathlessly into the room. A tall handsome gentleman arose and politely kissed my hand as we were introduced. Distressed, and almost in tears, I looked sideways up to him as I cried out in surprise: "Mother, this gentleman is not an American because he does not have his feather hat or his blanket." The poor man, whoever he was, tried his best to explain, but to me, he still was not an American.

Mashka had the most wonderful disposition, but I often got her into trouble. We used to practice on the piano in a room above Mother's boudoir where she could hear us. When the instructor, Mr. Konrad, happened to step out for a minute, we began to roughhouse. Soon the telephone rang and we knew it was Mother to remind us to attend to our practice and not to fool around.

Mother realized that we missed having friends of our age, and she made up for it by forming a closer knit family of our own. Occasionally we saw the Tolstoy girls or the children of General Hesse, once Father's aide-de-camp. We took some lessons, danced and played with them: two boys and a girl about the age of my sister Olga. But no intimacy whatever was allowed. We also enjoyed our cousins, Aunt Xenia's children, when they were at home.

When Alexei was about seven years old, he had a nurse named Maria Vishniakova. She disturbed Olga and made her cry. Vishniakova told Mother that the muzhik Rasputin had been upstairs in our apartments and conducted himself improperly. According to the tradition of the Russian court, no men were allowed in the girls' rooms except the two Negro doormen, Apty and Jim. Father became so upset by the report that he personally questioned Vishniakova. She was evasive, and gave one date, then another. When Father told her that Rasputin according to the report was nowhere near St. Petersburg during those dates, she admitted her whole story was a fabrication and that it was a malicious relative of the Imperial family who had had her say what she did. She then burst out crying and of course she was discharged. It was then that the attack on Rasputin began.

Another incident which caused a great deal of confusion some years before the war involved our governess, Mlle. Tutcheva, a native of Moscow. She spoke various languages, but no English. Aunt Ella , Mother's sister, had recommended her for this important position. Tutcheva was a cultured woman and came from a fine family, but at the same time was unpleasantly outspoken and domineering. She hated the English so that she would not allow the English language to be spoken in her presence, and often criticized the English, especially when we went through our albums of our trips. She even complained to us about our own Mother, that she was English and not a Russian, and constantly exchanged sharp words with Mlle. Butsova, Mother's favorite lady-in-waiting, addressing her in an abusive manner, but Mlle. Butsova spared no words for her either. All this made us children excited and nervous. Mlle. Tutcheva was also in continual conflict with others in the palace. To our dismay she also spoke unkindly of Princess Maria Bariatinsky. Later she told Aunt Ella that Rasputin visited our apartments although at no time had any of us sisters seen the man in the upper quarters.

Aunt Ella made a special trip to Tsarskoe Selo from Moscow to inform Mother of this gossip. This incident also came to Father's notice and he came to our rooms to ask about it. We all said we had not seen the peasant in our apartments at any time. Then the police records showed that he was away on those days. Tutcheva finally admitted that the story was untrue and that she had never in her life seen Rasputin. She was dismissed.

Father loved everything about Russia: her people, her customs, her music and her national food, particularly he was fond of the dark bread. It was baked only in the military kitchens and was most delicious. He also enjoyed a glass of slivovitsa, a plum cordial. During the war he preferred non-alcoholic drinks and omitted strong drinks when prohibition was established, making no exception for himself. However, some wine and other drinks were served to high foreign military officers in Mogilev. Father disliked and often neglected taking medicine even though it was necessary for his weak stomach. He believed, as did his Romanov ancestors, that nature is the best medicine.

Father had the best possible education and training. One of his favorite teachers was the famous Konstantin Pobedonostsev. This man was an outstanding theologian and lawyer. He taught Father both law and religion, so that his faith remained strong to the very end. Another favorite was General Danilov who taught military tactics. He was carefully selected for this most important assignment. Father had a Swiss tutor who taught him the French language and literature, and an English tutor, named Charles Heath, who acquainted him with the English language and literature.

Father had the most extraordinary memory. He was able to recite many Russian, French and English poems, including passages from Shakespeare. He was a fast reader and writer, his sentences being short and concise and always written in ink. He enjoyed the classics. His reading also included the works of Gogol; Gorbunov's stories of Russia; and Feodor Dostoevsky, many of whose autographed novels were on the shelves of our library; likewise the works of Longfellow, Dickens, Wordsworth and many others. He was familiar with international law and often remarked that many diplomats complicated matters to such an extent that it took a great deal of time to unravel a simple problem.

On the "Standard," the Imperial yacht, he had in his cabin the complete works of Shakespeare and other English contemporary authors, and books carefully selected by our tutors for us to read during our cruise.

Father was very loyal to his friends, many of whom he had known from his childhood. He disliked the waste of time on petty talk.

Many requests were withheld from him, and occasionally actions were taken without his knowledge or approval.

In spite of previous attempts on his life, he had resumed the ancient custom of the "Blessing of the Waters" on the river Neva in St. Petersburg. When a little girl, I was told that at one of these ceremonies an explosion occurred on the river, injuring several persons including my Father's physician. Part of the canopy and the windows of the Winter Palace were shattered. Father, therefore, ordered the discontinuance of this tradition. When an epidemic broke out soon after, the peasants attributed it to the decree. So the order was rescinded and the Epiphany ceremony was resumed. Once I was present at this picturesque ceremony which was one of the great national and religious traditions of Russia.

At this ceremony the dignitaries of the Church and State gathered at the Winter Palace. The procession formed there and proceeded to the river, followed by the church dignitaries. Father took his position in front of a crimson and gold canopy. A hole had already been cut in the ice. At the end of the ceremony the priest handed Father the cross which he dipped in the water and then raised high and made the sign of the cross in the air. This was repeated three times. It was so cold that the drops of water froze as they fell on the ice. After the ceremony the procession returned to the Palace, where luncheon was served to hundreds of guests, who formed a brilliant array in their court regalia.

I remember how beautiful the ladies looked at the luncheon in the Palace following the ceremony. They wore long court dresses of various pastel colors and jeweled filets from which soft veils hung down. There were glittering diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires and alexandrites, the latter a rare stone found in the Urals in 1833 and named after the future Alexander II, my great-grandfather.

Many officers wore the dress uniform of their regiment: the Horse Guards were in white and gold; the Cossacks in deep blue or crimson; and the Hussars in white and gold with scarlet dolmans over their shoulders. The "Blessing of the Waters" ceremony was conducted the last time in January 1916. It did not stir the same feelings as before. This time there were many dignitaries present and the foreign High Command, including our friend, Sir John Hanbury-Williams, and, of course, Sir George Buchanan, the British Ambassador.

Grandeur surrounded us in the Winter Palace where I spent the first years of my life. But during the Russo-Japanese war in 1905 we moved to Tsarskoe Selo, when my childhood recollections began to take root.

There were some tiny ports for landing, bridges, dog kennels and an elephant house, a concert hall and a Chinese village, a theatre and so on. In the palace grounds was also a white tower, a photographic building and an arsenal. The barracks for the regiments were located in the vicinity.

Before the war the cabinet ministers came to Tsarskoe Selo with their reports in the morning and were ushered into Father's study by an aide-de-camp. Occasionally however, Father met various officials in St. Petersburg. In order to save time and money the private audiences once a week were held in the Winter Palace in the General Chamber. Because of several hundred audiences that were held during the day, Father could give only a few minutes to each of these audiences and they were held standing. The reports of the high officials were received from 10:00-10:30 after his walk.

Several hundred attendants took care of the grounds and buildings; many of them lived outside. The personnel included the Grand Marshals of the Court, Masters of the Hunt, Masters of Ceremonies, Equerries, Chamberlains, coachmen, valets, butlers, chauffeurs, gardeners, cooks, maids, etc.

In Tsarskoe Selo the Palace of Catherine the Great was surrounded by a tall fence featuring a finely wrought iron gate. This building was like a museum, with its matchless rooms of amber and malachite and its mosaic and gold decorations. Two rooms I especially recall: one an anteroom in which Catherine kept her famous collections of snuffboxes, and the other a drawing room with a ceiling of ivory silk satin, in the center of which a tremendous double eagle was embroidered. In a third room, the walls were of satin, with exquisitely embroidered golden wheat and pastel blue cornflowers. There was another room with a double eagle inlaid in its mosaic wooden floor.

The private chapel had a large balcony for the choir. This awesome Palace was in great contrast to Alexander Palace, which we thought had a homelike atmosphere.

While I was a little girl, during our absence the public had permission to go through the Palace, but it was reported that the men conducting the tours allowed their relatives to enter our private chambers. Mother resented this abuse and the tours were forbidden. Later even the park could not be visited and everyone had to have a special permit from the Household Minister to enter even the Tsarskoe Selo grounds; this rule applied also to those employed in our service.

During the summer we vacationed on the yacht, but, since Tsarskoe Selo was inland, we went beforehand to Peterhof on the Gulf of Finland. There was a splendid feeling of anticipation of a trip ahead. The great palace of Peterhof was too formal with its many groups of fountains and Peter the Great grandeur. We preferred to stay in the little Alexandria Cottage, while we waited for Father to get away. It was exciting for us children. I remember how often I packed and unpacked my little suitcase, with scraps of papers, which I called my secret records. Among my prized possessions was an old bedroom slipper on which our dogs loved to chew. These things in the little suitcase were my precious childish treasures.

Alexandria Cottage stood to the east of Peterhof Palace; it consisted of two simple buildings joined to each other by an enclosed passageway. We had a glassed-in winter garden where palms and other tropical plants abounded and flowers flourished. Also, there were garden chairs and a doll house for us children to play in during the rainy days. Occasionally we had our luncheon here.

The entrance to the grounds of Peterhof presented a breathtaking view. Tall, graceful trees on both sides arched the roadway, while between them were fountains, bronze statues representing various historical events and enormous urns filled with flowers. A short distance away was a pavilion, a tall tower which we often climbed to get a view of the activities on the Island of Kronstadt. We walked to worship at the nearby Alexander Nevsky Church, named after a national hero who defeated the enemies of Russia in the thirteenth century. From Peterhof we took a tender to Kronstadt, the naval base on the island bearing the same name. There we boarded the yacht, the "Standard", which was too large to come in to the wharf of Peterhof. We youngsters were each assigned a sailor to watch over us. My poor sailor had his hands full since disappearing was almost an obsession with me. Once he caught me just in time as I climbed the ship's rail and nearly fell overboard.

Our cabins were large and airy; they were upholstered in light chintzes and each had a washstand, cold and hot water, dresser and desk. Olga and Tatiana occupied one cabin; Marie and I, another. Dinners were held in the big dining salon on the upper deck. There was a chapel where services were held regularly by the ship's chaplain. Mother as at home stood behind the screen. The "Standard" was painted black with gold decorations at the bow and the stern. It was a two-decker and had two smoke stacks.

I was often frightened on the "Standard" when at sunset a gun salute was fired from the deck. It hurt my ears. When it was time for the firing of guns I would run through the corridor down to the other side of the boat and hold my hands over my ears. The hoisting of the flag took place at 9:00 A.M. and the lowering at sunset.

Charles Dehn, captain of the "Standard," was a person whose companionship Father enjoyed, and my brother was Captain Dehn's shadow. Alexei never questioned anything "Pekin Dehn" said. Dehn's wife, Lili, was a dear friend of my Mother's, as well as of us children. Mother was the godmother of their infant son, Titi, who occasionally came to visit us. When he was about seven years old, he could already speak several languages. We loved to see this handsome boy. At tea time he sat next to Mother. When she poured tea, he asked, "Sugar, Madame, and how many?"

Another officer of the yacht, Drenteln, was one of Father's aides-de-camp and a devoted friend; he accompanied us on our trips. He knew Father from his young years and went with him to the Preobrazhensky regiment. Father found him interesting and they often talked all evening and well into the morning.

Father enjoyed all kinds of sports: tennis, boxing, swimming, diving; and he could stay under water some minutes. He was an expert rider and an excellent dancer, but was not especially fond of hunting. He was devoted to the Navy and when we were on our cruises he spent a great deal of time studying navigation. He was particularly proud of the "Standard" which was built at the Bay of Odense in Denmark at the time of his marriage. During one of our cruises we visited the yard where the boat was built. Each cruise brought fond memories to my parents of their honeymoon. Mother once said that the happiest years in her life were on board the "Standard".

For us a cruise meant spending a part of each day on shore, tramping in the Finnish forests. On the yacht our attendants turned a rope for us girls to jump. Then there was the tug of war with an admiral or a captain and other officers joining in. Sometimes we roller-skated on the deck. Everyone participated in the fun, except Mother and Alexei. They could not enjoy activities, but they joined in the laughter.

When Grandmother Minnie arrived everyone became tense. I especially felt rebellious at the endless warnings to be on my good behavior. We three younger children had our own early supper, because we could not sit quietly through the dinner in her honor. Try as I might, I was bound to do the wrong thing and disappoint everyone when Grandmother was around. Fortunately her visits were not long and the minute she left we resumed our former manners.

When our yacht anchored in a sheltered cove, we went mushroom hunting. Mother and Alexei seldom joined us in this. But when Alexei came, together we darted this way and that way, dodging the tall trees, and trying to catch the scent of mushrooms. The ground was all springy with pine needles and moss so that we fairly hopped along. It was fun to hear the twigs crunch beneath our feet.

Father was a fast walker; to keep up with him, I had to run. On one of these walks we came to a little stream, partly covered with twigs and moss. Father jumped over it and stretched out his hand to me. "Jump," he said. The ground was slippery and uneven and I failed to get a firm enough grip on Father's hand so I fell into the middle of the brook, with its bed of yellow mud and clay. My face, hair and dress were plastered with mud and so were my canvas shoes. The long, wet walk sent me to bed for a while.

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 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 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 , 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.

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