Anastasia (7 page)

I love to watch the white plumes of smoke that pour out of the white funnels. Papa says the
Standart
is 128 meters long and more splendid than anyone else’s yacht — more than Grandmother’s
Polar Star
, more than Kaiser Wilhelm’s
Hohenzollern
. (Papa says Cousin Willy is horribly envious of ours.)

Every night before dinner, Papa, the men in his suite, and the ship’s officers gather in the lounge for
zakuski
, little appetizers like pickled reindeer tongue, and radishes carved into flower shapes, and dark bread with roses made of butter. The men stand around eating and drinking and talking. Then we all go in to dinner together. The officers are so dashing in their sparkling white uniforms. I think Tatiana has been flirting with a tall, redheaded second officer named Saltikov.

12/25 June 1914

Last evening at sunset when the ship’s guns were fired (I have no idea
why
they do this every evening), I stuck my fingers in my ears and let my tongue loll out of my mouth, as though the sound of the cannon had done me in. Mama
hates
it when I do this. She says I am unladylike, and that such behavior is appalling.

After that little bit of nonsense, Mashka and I took a stroll around the deck. She went to our cabin to get a wrap, but I wasn’t at all cold, and continued to wander around by myself. That’s when I saw Tatiana flirting quite madly with Officer Saltikov.

She saw me watching her and demanded to know what I was doing, “skulking about and spying.”

I said I wasn’t skulking
or
spying, I was simply strolling in the moonlight. Later, when Tatiana came to our cabin, Mashka and I both accused her of flirting outrageously (even though Mashka hadn’t actually seen her and had to take my word for it). Tatiana denied everything, but she did blush the rosiest color!

I told her that if she could accuse me of skulking and spying, then I could accuse her of flirting. She had no answer to that.

Later

Why couldn’t everything go on being perfect? Alexei has had an accident. He jumped from the ladder when we went ashore this morning, and fell and twisted his ankle. Now that dreadful disease has flared up again, and he is in horrible pain. Mama is quite beside herself. She blames Derevenko and Nagorny, the two sailors who are constantly with Alexei, for not watching him closely.

Since he was five years old it has been their job to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Not an easy job for anyone, especially since Alexei is determined to do everything any other boy can do. Mama always tries to protect him, but Papa wants him to grow up to be as strong as possible so that he can be a good tsar.

14/27 June 1914

On the
Standart

We had a lovely birthday party for Mashka, with music and dancing and lots of food. Mama and Papa gave her the most beautiful sapphire that’s the exact color of her eyes. We like to tease her about her eyes, so big and round that Papa calls them “Mashka’s saucers.”

Now she’s fifteen, and she has already begun talking about “when I am married” and “when I have little ones.” She’s probably dreaming of her Russian soldier and their twenty children.

15/28 June 1914

Alexei was well enough today that Papa decided the rest of us could go hiking. Tatiana stayed on the yacht with Mama and Anya because Mama always likes to have one of us around. (I think Tatiana agreed so she could flirt with her officer.)

Early this morning the launch delivered Papa and Olga and Mashka and me to a little island, where we spent the day picking berries. Mashka accused me of eating more berries than I put in the basket, but that is absolutely untrue.

When we got back to the yacht, Mama was in the lounge, playing piano duets with Anya. Mashka brought her a bunch of wildflowers, and I made up a story about a bear chasing us in the berry patch and acted it out for her, taking the part of the bear.

“There was no bear, Anastasia,” Tatiana said. And when I asked how she knew, since she wasn’t there, she said she was watching the whole time through the telescope.

16/29 June 1914

Bad news came over the wireless at noon today: Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungry was assassinated yesterday. He was riding in an automobile in Sarajevo when a crazy man shot him and his wife. Papa knew the archduke. He says he was a friend of Cousin Willy’s.

At dinner tonight, everyone was talking about the assassination. The officers usually want to flirt with us (with my older sisters, and sometimes with me), but there was no flirting this evening. The brass band plays marches in the evenings, but Papa asked them for something else. Instead, they played Tchaikovsky’s
1812 Overture
. At the end we had some fireworks, which Alexei loves. Alexei’s leg still hurts him, but he’s very brave.

17/30 June 1914

Much worse news today. Someone attacked Father Grigory with a knife and tried to kill him. He was badly wounded, but all of us are praying for his recovery.

Mama is terribly upset, and Anya weeps inconsolably. “Such a good man! Such a man of God!” she cries, over and over, and wonders who could ever wish him harm.

Mama says it was arranged by one of his religious enemies. Even a man of God has enemies!

18 June/1 July 1914

Alexei was the first to sight the
Polar Star
, Grandmother’s yacht. Our two yachts dropped anchor side by side, and Grandmother was brought from hers to ours in a small boat and then lifted on board with a special chair.

We had tea on the deck — the sun was hot, but the white canvas shades were up, so no one got scorched — and then OTMA presented the little skit called
The Bear
. I’ve been working on it for days. Alexei played the part of the bear, carried on the shoulders of Derevenko. We found a great brown rug to drape over both of them, so the bear looked quite fearsome. Tatiana and Olga were maidens in need of rescue, and I was the hunter who almost shot the bear.

Before she went back to the
Polar Star
, Grandmother asked Papa what he had heard about the archduke’s murder, and he told her what he knew: that the assassin was a Serbian, and that Cousin Willy blames it all on the Serbian government. “Watch out for Kaiser Wilhelm,” Grandmother said. “He’s such a bully, you know.”

I don’t think she said a word about the awful thing that happened to Father Grigory, because she doesn’t like him at all. I can tell by the way she twists her mouth whenever he’s mentioned. This is another reason why Mama and Grandmother aren’t fond of each other.

20 June/3 July 1914

This morning on our hike with Papa, I collected a whole pocketful of pretty rocks from the beach and brought them back for Mama. They seemed to cheer her up a little. After lunch Papa went to his study (he works two days a week when we’re on our cruise), and my sisters and I roller-skated on the deck. I can skate faster than Mashka, who’s always afraid she’s going to crash into something. I never think about crashing.

23 June/6 July 1914

A thunderstorm broke this afternoon, and the sea was wild and churning. We stayed in the lounge, where Mama played the piano for us while spray lashed the windows. The music she always plays is sad, and when I begged her to play something cheerful, she just looked at me and said, “But, my darling,
life
is sad.”

I know that she was thinking of Father Grigory. We pray for him every morning, and at night, too.

26 June/9 July 1914

Papa seems determined not to let his worries spoil our yachting holiday. Today we went ashore to hunt mushrooms. (Mashka stayed with Mama.) Papa built a little fire and pulled out a pan and some butter from the pack he carries. He cooked the mushrooms, and we ate them with bread.

Later I got in trouble with Tatiana. Olga went off by herself to read, and Papa went for a swim. He left his cigarettes on the beach. I took one and lit it and was holding it between my fingers the way Papa does and only
pretending
to smoke it. Suddenly Tatiana leaped out of the bushes and threatened to tell Mama. I tried to explain that I was playacting.

Tatiana said it looked
an awful lot
as though I had actually been smoking, and I reminded her that I had seen her holding hands with the redhaired officer and it looked
an awful lot
as though she had kissed him. So I don’t think she’ll tell Mama, but, anyway, I’m not touching Papa’s cigarettes
ever again
.

30 June/13 July 1914

Today was so fine that we persuaded Mama to come ashore with us for a picnic. Tatiana’s redhaired officer carried Mama and helped her get settled on a rug. Then he spent most of his time gazing cow-eyed at Tatiana, and Mama had to ask him twice to bring her parasol.

No mention of cigarettes or smoking.

This evening we’re having a dance. I wish Mama would allow me to wear my hair up, but I know she won’t.

3/16 July 1914

Last night was so much fun! The balalaika orchestra played for dancing, and we all got to choose our partners. Olga, who didn’t even want to dance and said she’d stay in her cabin and read, ended up coming to the dance after all. And she chose the redheaded officer as her first partner! Naturally Tatiana couldn’t say a word and had to ask someone else. I could hardly keep from laughing.

I picked Papa. He says I dance very enthusiastically.

6/19 July 1914

Peterhof

Today our cruise ended, and we’re back at the farm. Mama and Anya are in a better mood because Mama has a letter from Father Grigory. He’s in his village in Siberia recovering from his wounds, but he writes that he’s feeling strong again.

Not everyone is happy. Olga is glum, and Tatiana was sorry to see her officer sail away. Actually he hasn’t gone far, because we’ll continue to take short cruises.

I searched everywhere I could think of for her diary, to see if she wrote anything about kissing him, but the dratted girl has hidden it very well. I
still
think she kissed him.

15/28 July 1914

More news that has everyone worried. The Austrians have attacked Belgrade, the capital of Serbia, to get even with the Serbians for what happened to the archduke. Papa spends lots of time in meetings with his advisers, trying to decide what to do. The Serbians are our allies, and we have promised to help them if they are attacked. That means there might be a war, and we must get ready for it.

16/29 July 1914

Papa sent a message to his generals ordering our Russian soldiers to prepare for war. He is so brave and looks so anxious — the pouches under his eyes are bigger than ever. Papa and Cousin Willy could actually end up fighting against each other if there is a war. Papa showed us on a map: Because Russia must help Serbia fight Austria-Hungary, Germany would side with Austria against us. Then France and Great Britain, who are our allies, would fight on our side against Germany.

We all pray for a miracle to stop the war, because Papa says many men will lose their lives when the fighting begins. Now we’re waiting to see what Cousin Willy, the kaiser of Germany, will do.

19 July/1 August 1914

What a terrible day! I shall never forget it.

Papa stayed shut up in his study for hours with his advisers. When he finally appeared, he was as white as a ghost. “We are going to war,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “Germany has declared war on Russia.” Then we all began to weep, including poor, dear Papa, because we’re so upset by the news and so frightened of what lies ahead.

20 July/2 August 1914

St. Petersburg

Yesterday is still kind of a jumble. We ate a hurried meal, changed our clothes, and left for St. Petersburg. Alexei had to stay in Peterhof because he can’t walk, and Papa thought this was a bad time for people to see the tsarevitch in such a condition. So it was Papa and Mama and the four of us and our usual suite.

I had been feeling so sad and afraid, but it was quite thrilling to find the crowds outside the Winter Palace all cheering and singing. “Batiushka,” they were shouting (that means “Father of Russia”), “lead us to victory!” And they sang, “God Save the Tsar” in a voice like a mighty roar.

The cheering went on and on. Dr. Botkin and Gleb were there, and Gleb kept going on about how great a thing this war was going to be for Russia. When I asked him if he wasn’t frightened, he said, “The Germans don’t know how to fight! They only know how to make sausages!” He says all we have to do to defeat them is throw our caps at them.

Dear Gleb, his excitement was so great that I began to feel excited, too. But one look at Papa’s face tells me it may not be as easy as Gleb believes.

30 July/12 August 1914

Peterhof

This is Alexei’s tenth birthday. Papa works constantly now, conferring with his generals about how to win the war, but he did take time to celebrate.

Of course everyone knows it’s the tsarevitch’s birthday, and so gifts have been arriving from people everywhere — except from Cousin Willy! Alexei’s favorite is his new toy train, an exact replica of the Trans-Siberian Express. He also has several model boats for sailing on the lake.

Dressed in his sailor’s uniform, Alexei relentlessly orders everyone around. My sisters and I always take care not to burden our servants, and we go to great pains not to give orders. Alexei doesn’t believe in that at all! He is forever sending someone scurrying off to fetch him sweets. But it’s understandable, because often he can’t walk and must be carried around. I suppose I would be giving orders, too, if I had to sit still. Nagorny and Derevenko seem to take it in good humor.

1/14 August 1914

Papa says it’s an ancient tradition to go to the Kremlin, the citadel in Moscow, to ask God’s blessing on Holy Russia at the beginning of a war, so we’re leaving for Moscow in a day or two.

4/17 August 1914

Moscow

The crowds that welcomed us here were even bigger and noisier than the ones in St. Petersburg. At least a million people jammed the streets and hung from balconies and tree branches for a look at us as our procession slowly moved along. Every church bell in the entire city was ringing and making a terrific din.