Anastasia: The autobiography of H.I.H. the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaevna of Russia

I had pictured the house in the midst of woods, but when I saw it surrounded by a high wooden fence still being erected, it gave me a feeling of loneliness and fear. When we crossed the noisy, wornout wooden sidewalk and the gate closed behind us, we were prisoners. Paradoxically the name of the street was Svoboda (Freedom).

With us came the following: Our faithful friend General Ilia Tatishchev, General Valia Dolgorukov, Dr. Eugene Botkin, M. Pierre Gilliard, Countess Anastasia Hendrikova and Mlle. Ekaterina Schneider; also Miss Alexandra Tegleva, a nurse and her assistant, Elizabeth Ersberg, and the chambermaids, Miss Tutelberg and Anna Demidova; Father’s servant, Terenty Chemodurov; Mother’s servant, Alexei Volkov; and Ivan Sidniev, the servant of us four sisters. Also there were our brother’s personal attendants, Trup, Ivanov and Markov, and his male nurse, Klementy Nagorny; a writer, a hairdresser; several cooks including Kharitonov and his helper, Leonid Sidniev; and other help. About forty people came with us. Later came Mr. Sidney Gibbs, our English tutor, and Dr. Derevenko, who were permitted to join us and resume their duties. Still later Baroness Buxhoeveden, a lady in waiting, followed, joining us on the boat on the day we were leaving for Ekaterinburg. This does not include the military personnel, which numbered about 300-400.

The house itself was quite nice. Our quarters on the second floor were smaller and more crowded than those we were accustomed to. We occupied three bedrooms: one for my parents, one for Alexei, and the other for us four girls. On this floor there was a big hall with a piano and a comfortable divan, tables and other pieces of furniture. Next to Alexei’s room was a room for his male nurse. Father’s study was in a corner room at the head of the stairway. We also had a balcony which we found extremely pleasant when the sun was out. From it Mother watched us when we went for a walk in the small yard. Often we went out on the balcony to see the sunset and the view of the cathedral and the low mountains in the background. It was beautiful; the sun seemed so much brighter than in Petrograd or Tsarskoe Selo.

The arrangements of the first floor were the same as on the second. The rooms opened on both sides of a long corridor which ran from the front to the back of the house. The closest room to the vestibule was occupied by an orderly officer on duty. M. Gilliard’s room and the dining room were on this floor, as were the remaining quarters used by our household. But later the larger rooms had to be divided by partitions to make two rooms out of one, in order to accommodate everyone possible. Almost all the rooms had parquet floors, and on the second floor we had some of our fine Persian scatter rugs and others, all sent to us from Tsarskoe Selo by Makarov. Most of the remainder of the staff was housed across the street in the large residence which belonged to a rich merchant named Kornilov. Extra maids had accommodations in town.

Our walks were not exciting, because of the limited space, which consisted of a small garden, where there were some Siberian irises, and a part of the street and a part of a square joined to the garden by a high wooden fence. This space was always guarded by a dozen or more soldiers on the outside and by that many more inside. In the back of the house there were the temporary barracks built to accommodate the guards. From here they could observe all our activities. We played ball or tug of war among ourselves; and occasionally other games with the guards. Father was always present at these games.

We began to feel almost natural in our prison house. The small quarters took the form of a home and we settled down into a peaceful routine. From the absence of shooting and rioting, it was evident the revolution had not reached this part of the country. In fact, everything was so quiet it was hard to believe it could be Russia.

One of Father’s complaints was the lack of news. We were completely isolated. We did receive a locally published newspaper containing mostly hearsay. No first hand information freshened its pages, nor did it contain any foreign news.

Now and then Commissar Makarov and the guards inadvertently dropped some news. Our friends from across the street were at liberty to enter the governor’s house and resume their duties. They even were permitted to see the town, but we could not go out. Thanks to Colonel Kobylinsky, our first two months at Tobolsk were quite pleasant. The house came near to being the kind of home that Mother had always longed for—one in which we could be close to each other. No external duties claimed any of us, not even Father—a situation that made him restless.

There were many guards everywhere, but they, like Colonel Kobylinsky, had come with us from Tsarskoe Selo and knew us as submissive prisoners. They became our friends and we chatted with them freely. The colonel was very kind; Father nicknamed him “our friend.” There was no friction because we complied with every demand. They trusted us but still they watched us as they were ordered to do.

Our food was simple but nourishing. Our own chef, Kharitonov, and his helper cooked to our satisfaction. In living this simple life, Mother became much stronger. She ceased to fret over the wounded soldiers, whom she could no longer help, and she found compensation in her writing, painting and religion and in our close family life. At least, we were all under the same roof. She had her one wish: the right for us to belong to each other. Our being together went a long way to soften our captivity.

At first it was very difficult for Mother to adjust herself to the new experience of housekeeping, managing personally and coming in direct contact with the attendants. The sudden change from many servants to a few was very confusing to her. She had not kept house for some years; even while living with her Granny she had devoted her time to her studies. Since these servants had to assume duties which were strange to them, we sisters helped Anna and Tootles in their daily work. Operations were not always smooth but the servants were willing and adaptable and above all loyal. After a while Colonel Kobylinsky gave permission for several maids from Tsarskoe Selo, who were willing to come, to join us. But the sudden changes in Tobolsk kept them waiting there for weeks and in the end they never were able to enter the house.

At this time we had a few letters from different friends but nothing from our relatives in the Crimea. The latter were constantly in our minds and we wished so much to be near them in that beautiful country, among all those flowers and near the blue-green sea. Then, as if by mental telepathy, Colonel Kobylinsky arrived, his pale face beaming with excitement, and handed a letter to Father from Aunt Xenia in the Crimea. It calmed us, but at the same time left in our hearts a painful and lonely feeling which stayed with us incessantly. Later a number of letters came from that distant land. One such letter took six months to arrive. Father wrote short letters as there was always the fear of bringing trouble to the recipients.

When shortly our English tutor, Sidney Gibbs, arrived in Tobolsk, he brought us first hand information on the happenings in the Crimea and the conditions in Tsarskoe Selo and Petrograd.

The older men who came with us from Tsarskoe Selo, especially of the First and the Fourth regiments became our friends. They were kind to us and could not understand why we were held prisoners. These men loved Alexei, and to them he still was their Tsarevich. Those good fellows brought him gifts, which they proudly presented to him with loving smiles and touching words. I will never forget the time when one of these men spent many evenings carving a puzzle out of white soft wood. It was chain-like and every turn made gave it a new design. Another man made for him a set of wooden Kalmuk toys, from the great-grandfather to the tiniest baby boy. They fitted into each other so skilfully that when all together they formed only one big great-grandfather. Alexei was touched by these gifts. We knew all these men and the families of some of them. Knowing their financial condition, we felt sorry for them.

The soldiers of the Second regiment, who at first were unpleasant, had by now become actually insolent. They formed a Soldiers Committee under the direction of a man called Arnold Goldstein who came to Tobolsk about a month after our arrival and at once started to poison those men. All other individuals who came to Tobolsk were at once arrested but this man was allowed to stay and make trouble. The committee asserted its authority over the officers whom Kerensky had sent when we first arrived in Tobolsk. The friendly spirit that prevailed in our prison was reported. Stern orders bounced back. Our kindly guards had to step aside, and radical ones took their places. Colonel Kobylinsky tried to resist but, alas, it was a losing fight.

Shortly after we reached Tobolsk, the young townspeople had a dance on the street, called “Krugom.” The girls were dressed in handsome embroidered red babushkas and the boys in high boots and pleated trousers. The dance starts when one of the girls calls her boy friend by his name, saying please come. He takes off his fur cap and the couple dance in the middle of the circle while the balalaika and accordion play and the participants sing a song—the words of which usually center on water, birds, the moon, etc., all taken from nature. The boy then kisses this girl, the girl of his heart, and asks her to dance with him. The girl then calls another man who in turn invites his own girl. The first couple drops out and the procedure is repeated.

Father liked the Siberian climate and the fabulous splendors of the sunrise and sunset over the mountains and the soft clouds hiding the distant hills. We too found it agreeable and peaceful after the turbulent months we had just gone through. But these tranquil few weeks came to an end all too soon. We shortly learned that one of our former ladies in waiting, Mlle. Rita Khitrovo was in Tobolsk. Her unannounced arrival caused us a great deal of apprehension. We felt that our Russian teacher, Mlle. Bittner, in whom Colonel Kobylinsky was interested, might find an opportunity to exaggerate the reasons for Mlle. Khitrovo’s presence in Tobolsk and thereby create an incident which would have serious repercussions. Once Mlle. Khitrovo was seen talking to a member of our staff across the street, and making a cross with her hand toward the balcony on which we were standing. Immediately after that she was arrested and sent away. The letters she had brought with her were seized and were not delivered to their owners until after they had been censored. Following this incident Kerensky ordered that all persons coming to Tobolsk must be registered.

As a result of this incident Commissar Makarov who knew of Khitrovo’s coming was relieved of his post and replaced by Commissar Pankratov and his deputy, Nikolsky. Pankratov, despite his prison record, was kind to us. His knowledge of languages and his taste for art and literature betrayed his cultural background. This middle-aged man often used to tell us sisters about his experiences in prison. Yet never once did he complain. Instead he admitted his guilt. He was a man of fifty with dark hair. He made a notation on every letter received and often delivered our mail, most of which was addressed to him, saying that he was glad that our friends had not forgotten us. Once he told Marie that no harm would come to us while he was there.

Nikolsky was a Pole of disreputable background. He was rude and fanatic and had an uncontrollable temper and hatred. He immediately ordered everyone to have his picture taken and to carry a card showing the name, age and day of birth, because he had had to have his picture taken and carry a card while serving a prison term for killing two men.

Our schedule for the week was made up by Olga and M. Gilliard. Our friends were the only gleam of light in our daily life. To change the atmosphere it was decided to stage some plays in which the staff and we children could take part. A stage was put up in the big hall on the second floor, which also served us as a school room and later as a chapel. All our friends from across the street were asked to these performances to share in this diversion. Olga was in charge of the music, if such was needed. Alexei was not very keen about taking part in the plays and often begged for someone else to take his role. There was always an officer present at these performances. But soon rapidly changing conditions no longer permitted us these recreations.

Our day began at eight in the morning with breakfast served to us and our friends in the dining room downstairs. It consisted of tea or weak coffee. Olga had hers with Father in his study, and Alexei his with Mother. At 9:00 A.M. we younger sisters took our lessons in the big hall, but during the cold spell, before the house warmed up we started the first lesson in bed with Mother. We wore in the house our woolen leggings or boots and were bundled in warm cardigans. Our instructors were M. Gilliard, Mlle. Hendrikova, Mlle. Bittner, once a teacher at the gymnasium in Tsarskoe Selo. Father continued with the history and geography lessons. The classes lasted from 9:00-11:00 A.M. Alexei had his lessons in M. Gilliard’s or his own room. Afterwards we went out into the yard for a half hour’s exercise before our luncheon at 1:00 P.M.

Father and Olga ate luncheon with us in the dining room. Mother and Alexei had theirs upstairs. Our luncheon consisted of soup, meat or fish and sweets. From two to four we went out again and helped saw wood behind the greenhouse. Mother seldom went out with us in the morning. Alexei joined us in the afternoon after his rest and, when the weather permitted, Mother sat in a chair in the sun, sewing, knitting, writing or painting. When indisposed she stayed upstairs. Sometimes she played the piano and sang, mostly religious pieces. From 3:45 to 4:00 there was a short break for tea, for the family only, during which Mother poured the tea herself. The lessons started again at 4:00 and lasted until 6:00 or 7:00 P.M. Dinner was served at eight; the menu was the same as that served at luncheon except that we had no dessert. Mother always was present at these meals. After dinner, coffee was served upstairs. While Father poured, all stood up except Mother. We could not help noticing that usually there were thirteen persons at the dinner table, seven from the family, and six from the staff. Occasionally Dr. Derevenko and his son were asked to dinner, also Colonel Kobylinsky and Mlle. Bittner.

During the first few weeks the food was satisfactory; this did not last long because many products became scarce and prices went sky high.

It was decided to raise our own food. Within a month we had many chickens, turkeys, and ducks that enjoyed swimming in their little pond which we had made by diverting a small portion of a brook which ran through the garden. The horse stable was used for pigs and even the greenhouse was converted into a chicken coop.

Soon the people learned of the hour of our walks. They tried to get a better view of us through the cracks between the boards, and many of them kneeled down in prayer for us. Even Kalmuks who are Mohammedans raised their hands and prayed to Allah for us, without being afraid to do so. To many millions, the Emperor and Empress were still the Father and Mother of Russia.

In October before navigation on the river stopped for the winter, and after his enforced return to Tsarskoe Selo, our friend Makarov sent us from there some warm clothes and rugs, curtains, linens and other needed items as well as some provisions.

During Kobylinsky’s administration we were permitted to go to church on Sundays and holidays. The church services were held at 8:00 A.M. when it was still dark. We assembled in the yard and proceeded to the church flanked on each side by sentries. The church was a short distance from the house and in getting there we had to cross the street, pass through a small park and onto another street. Father went into the church first, followed by Mother, Alexei and then us sisters. Some of the guards entered the church and stood behind us while the others remained outside, waiting near the steps. On our return, after the service and as a mark of honor, the church bells kept ringing until we entered the house. This procedure however was changed by Nikolsky who, in a childish show of authority, ordered that the ringing of the bells be stopped before we reached the gate. Church services for us were strictly private and the public was not permitted to participate in the services while we were there. Instead they waited outside, and as we left the church they kneeled and kissed the ground after we passed as a sign of their love for the family.

When Dr. Derevenko came to Tobolsk with his son Kolia, it was a joy for Alexei. The two boys played together, read and wrote little stories. Alexei was happy to have a friend to play and eat with. But this did not last very long. One day Nagorny carried a letter from Alexei to his friend Kolia. It was nothing more than childish play. Nikolsky searched Nagorny and found the letter. He immediately went to Pankratov with it, saying, “You see how easily they can smuggle letters out and who knows what else?” Kolia was forbidden to come into the house, and only occasionally were they permitted to play outdoors under the watchful eyes of the guards, provided they kept at a distance from each other.

For weeks Mother had been suffering from neuralgia. Now her teeth caused her a great deal of pain. Everyday she waited patiently for her dentist, who was to come all the way from the Crimea. I never knew of anyone who suffered so much and still had so much patience and never complained. On the arrival of Dr. Kostritsky, he repaired Mother’s false tooth and one of my front teeth which had been damaged. He brought us news from Granny and both our aunts who were in the Crimea. From a previous letter we had learned that Grandmother was ill and was complaining about the shortage of food and the fact that her belongings had been taken away from her, news which distressed us considerably, especially my Father. We had also received a charming letter concerning Aunt Olga telling us about her baby son being driven in a carriage drawn by a small donkey. I remembered when I was a little girl I rode in a small wicker chair strapped on the side of a pony. The news brought by Dr. Kostritsky was cheerful on the whole.

Finally Dr. Botkin’s children, Tatiana and Gleb, arrived in Tobolsk. We hoped that they would join us in our class work, but even that was denied us and we could only see them from the second floor window.

The situation was gradually getting worse. Nikolsky was stirring up more hatred among the soldiers and poisoning their minds with false doctrines.

Dr. Botkin spent several hours with Father, telling him of the conditions in Tsarskoe Selo and Petrograd. We now had a fairly good idea of the existing situation in our country. We heard that Pravosudovich, head engineer of the Imperial personal train, had been shot; also that Kerensky, his relatives and his friends were splurging at the Catherine Palace, indulging in all kinds of luxuries, of which we had deprived ourselves at all times, especially during the war. Kerensky and his friends were driving in our cars and carriages, and even some servants lay at his feet. Within a short time this man who not long ago had appeared on our threshold in Tsarskoe Selo, with men whose past was steeped in crime, was now enjoying all the luxuries of which he deprived the original owners.

We had several letters from Anna Vyrubova and even some packages. We gathered from her letters that Anna was having a terrible time, though her language was cryptic. She was forced to assume her maiden name in order to avoid persecution. All our mail that came through the regular channels was censored and the contents were known to Colonel Kobylinsky. Father tried to discourage the sending or receiving of mail secretly. He even asked his own relatives to address their letters to Commissar Pankratov, in order to avoid any misunderstanding. Father wrote only a few letters, primarily to his mother and to his sister Xenia.

We had news from the English sisters of mercy in Petrograd, and from the hospitals in Tsarskoe Selo; also we heard from Countess Orlova-Davidova; from Shura Petrovsky, whose husband was one of Father’s aides-de-camp, and from Liuba Khitrovo, sister of Rita Khitrovo who had been arrested in Tobolsk. The news we received indicated untold tragedies. Many officers were shot after they recovered from the wounds. The Provisional Government cared little for these helpless men.

We heard that the people wanted their Emperor back and that the Army was hostile to the new Government, refusing to take orders from the former convicts, spies and invaders, and that it wanted to get rid of Communist agitators around the country. Again Kerensky refused to sanction this proposal, because he wanted to retain all power in his hands, even though it would mean the destruction of Russia. Father knew then that the country was lost. We heard all kinds of stories. One concerned a boat caught sailing in the dark on the Volga River without the permission of the authorities. On the shore, it was discovered that this boat carried six bullions of gold, each worth a fortune. When asked where they were taking this loot, the persons aboard replied that they were taking it to the village of one of the leaders.

Kerensky made many blunders. He prevented the Army from crushing the revolution at a time when it was ready and willing to do so. The soldiers of our regiments, who came with us from Tsarskoe Selo, complained to General Tatishchev that they had not received the allowances that Kerensky had promised they would receive while they remained with us. As a result they were discontented. Many of these men had to meet their family needs. Some of them were able to obtain extra jobs, but those who were not able to do so became angry, which strengthened their sympathy for Bolshevism.

A few weeks before Christmas came the shocking news that Kerensky’s Provisional Government had fallen and that the Bolsheviks had taken control of the country. He was now receiving a dose of his own medicine. The persecutors were more lenient and less cruel toward him than he was toward his Emperor and his family. General Tatishchev told us that when Kerensky was betrayed by his colleagues—the Bolsheviks—he jumped from the second floor of the Winter Palace in order to save his life and in his haste to do so left the belt of his tunic behind. It was said that Prince Volkonsky was an eye witness to this heroic performance. A brave man, indeed. An Emperor without portfolio, a minister, a lawyer, an orator, and Napoleon, all in one.

There was talk that if the Ukraine were to go to Germany, Father would be placed on the throne by German help. Father said, “Never will I or my son accept the throne with the help of the enemy.”

We learned that the Winter Palace had been plundered and that many of its treasures were in the hands of foreign bandits from both hemispheres who came to our country to rob, take and plunder. They pulled down our tricolor flags—white, blue, and red. White stands for snow, blue for the heavenly sky and red for the blood spilled in defense of our country. They hoisted their own flag over the Winter Palace. They removed the double eagles from the buildings and were burning them on the streets before the eyes of respectable citizens. They emptied the historical treasures preserved for generations by our forefathers, the pride and wealth of Russia when she was in her glory. These treasures were sold abroad. The wine cellars of the Palace were broken open and the mob drank so much wine that some of them literally died from it; the rest of the old wines were poured from the bridge into the Neva River.

The secret police still was working at the time of our arrest. Before our exile the names appearing below were given to my Father which he remembered and made us remember. When some of these men found it necessary to escape from Russia for their lives, they were given sanctuary by other countries, instead of being tried for their crimes against the Russian people. These men dared to look into the eyes of Russians knowing what they had done to them, and how easy the Russian people had forgiven them all the wounds they had inflicted upon them.

Communism was founded and organized by these men whose real and assumed names follow.

We were told that Tsederbaum (Tsederblum?), Lenin’s father, was arrested for murdering a policeman; his sons were very young. One son was brought up in Simbirsk by a well-to-do half-Kalmuk and half-Christian family by the name of Ulianov. The other sons were with Lenin’s uncle, Tsederbaum. While in college both boys met secretly with other boys and inspired them with revolutionary ideas, such as the derailing of the train in which the Emperor and his family were riding; as a result many people were killed. One brother was hanged; the second, Lenin (Ulianov), ran away; and the third was in hiding in Russia until the revolution when he reappeared. There were two brothers who are mentioned above in my list which was given Father while in Tsarskoe Selo. Later in Tobolsk and more so in Ekaterinburg, additional names were given to us to remember, the names of men with whom we actually had contact. Unfortunately I can only remember now the names of about twenty-five out of a total of approximately one hundred.

One morning Colonel Kobylinsky arrived in Father’s study. With tears in his eyes he informed Father that a peace treaty was to be signed, but that prior to the signing the old Russian Army would have to be demobilized. Father said that this terrible move by the Bolsheviks was dangerous not only for Russia but also for the world; that this move on the part of the traitors should now make the Russian people realize that they were being deceived. I cannot describe the feeling it left on us. Father was a prisoner, trapped like a lion in a cage, thousands of miles away.

But going back to Kerensky, it is significant that when he was in danger, he did everything to save his own life. But he never stopped to think that he was the one who had sent the Imperial family to the distant, frozen North. Did he give a thought to the fact that the unfortunate victims were trapped by the traitors and by the bribed convicts, and not by their own people? Now we could see why he had ordered the arrest of everyone who came to our aid and who was willing to risk his life, as well as ours, to save us. Kerensky had given his word of honor to Father that he would protect us. He knew what these men were like and what they were doing. I often ask myself the question: did he do it intentionally? Will one ever know?

If Kerensky was sincerely interested in protecting us, he could have ordered the train in which we were traveling, under the Japanese Red Cross flag, to proceed to Vladivostok from where we could have gone to Japan whose Emperor was quite friendly with Father and would have given us the protection of his country. During the war we had a visit by two young Japanese Princes who brought beautiful gifts for Mother and us from the Empress of Japan. They also visited Father in Mogilev.

Now the Russian people were helpless, numb as from paralysis. With stunned eyes they watched the nightmarish happenings in their country, the wiping out of their possessions, and the tragic end of their families.