Early in the spring of 1914 we went to Livadia. Full days of school work were continued here. M. Pierre Gilliard and our Russian tutor, M. Peter Vasilievich Petrov, accompanied us as usual. Sometimes our tutors were invited to lunch with us and afterwards joined us in our hikes when the sun was bright and warm, or in some other recreational pastime. Our hikes took us through the park or along the shore to Yalta or to the Church of Alexander Nevsky on the opposite hill. Dinner was the focal point of the day with friends and relatives as guests. We children, especially, enjoyed Prince Igor Constantinovich and the Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich. Aunt Ella, Mother’s older sister, the widow of the Grand Duke Serge, brother of Alexander III, was another cherished guest. She and Mother had similar religious views, having inherited this mysticism from their mother, Princess Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, daughter of Queen Victoria of England.

Grandmother Alice, I was told, was a student of religious history and movements, having been inspired by her tutor, a theologian who was a close friend of the Hesse family. He also had a direct influence on Mother. This theologian imbedded into her thoughts the terrible fear of sin. For years we children watched her struggle, trying to leave this deeply-buried mysticism and return to reality. However, due to the thoughtless criticism by my other grandmother, Father’s mother, Marie Feodorovna, and also the unsympathetic attitude of the Russian court, she sought comfort in this mysticism and her whole soul once more overflowed with it. Then with the misfortune of her son’s illness, she reverted to it all the more. At the same time she pretended not to notice the criticism and tried to hide her pride; but her sensitive heart suffered and the words which she should have spoken hardened in her soul. Courtiers took her for a heartless, cold and eccentric woman. She, having been raised by her austere grandmother, tried to carry on in an efficient English manner. Even though her humble faith grew stronger, her English upbringing never left her and she never became a true Russian in manners, but in her heart and soul she was a better Russian than most native-born Russians.

We boarded our yacht, the “Standard”, which had been brought to the Crimean waters from the Baltic Sea via the North Sea. We went on several short cruises on the Black Sea. Once we crossed to Constantsa on the Rumanian coast to return a visit of King Carol and Queen Elizabeth (Carmen Sylva) of Rumania. They had come to see us with their grandnephew, the future King Carol II. It was an overnight trip to Constantsa. Carmen Sylva at her late age was still beautiful, as also was Princess Marie (Missy), wife of Prince Ferdinand; later they became sovereigns of Rumania. During this visit Princess Marie and my sister Olga developed a close friendship. The strained relationship between Mother and Missy’s sister Victoria, who was divorced from Mother’s brother Ernest, was improved; all was forgotten now. We had luncheon in a pavilion which seemed to rise right out of the sea. From this vantage point we could see many yachts and smaller boats cruising back and forth for a closer look at the “Standard”.

In the afternoon, tea was served on board the “Standard” for the members of the two families. After tea a great many dignitaries joined us on board ship.

THE GRAND DUCHESS ANASTASIA

THE GRAND DUCHESS ANASTASIA—TSARSKOE SELO—1914

That night a grand banquet was held in the beautifully decorated pavilion overlooking the sea. The lights reflected on the water as various craft sailed by, and the sound of music spread over the sea like a cloud. It was a gala occasion with many garlands and flags flying. I could not help watching Olga intently for I had overheard someone say that this trip was planned with a view to her possible marriage into the Rumanian royal family. At the dinner table Olga and Prince Carol sat side by side, apparently having a good time. The table was decorated with tricolors: red, white and blue, and small gifts were exchanged. Olga received a Rumanian national costume which was beautifully embroidered; the skirt was in a dark color woven in a pattern of gold and silver thread, and the blouse daintily embroidered in white. Princess Marie did not hesitate to admit that she herself was a beauty, especially her blue eyes. She was the eldest daughter of Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, and the Grand Duchess Marie Alexandrovna of Russia. She was named Marie Alexandra Victoria, after both her grandmothers, the Russian Empress Marie Alexandrovna and Queen Victoria of England. As already mentioned, her younger sister Victoria Melita (Ducky) was the divorced wife of Mother’s brother Ernest of Hesse; she was now married to the Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovich. Another sister, Alexandra (Sandra), married Prince Ernest of Hohenlohe-Langenburg. A third sister was Beatrice (Baby B.), wife of the Infante Alfonso of Spain, first cousin of Alfonso XIII.

I was filled with a compelling interest I had never before experienced. But when we sailed away that night, I learned it had been decided Olga was too young to marry. Later she told us that she would rather stay single than marry outside of Russia. We sisters were so happy we could not help teasing her about losing a husband. It was a good thing that Alexei did not know about Olga; he would have been sick with worry that she might leave Russia. Later I wished Olga had married at that time, she might be alive today.

During the war Prince Carol came to Russia several times and stayed with us for a few days. Once he was accompanied by Prime Minister Bratianu. However, even this time, Olga was not given an opportunity of being left with him alone for one single minute, entirely apart from others. There were always ladies in waiting and we the younger ones excitedly were in and out of the room. She had no chance to hold his hand and less of being kissed.

Nor was any one else given an opportunity to be with Olga unchaperoned. It was in Tobolsk that Mother first realized her mistake in not giving more independence to her older daughters.

Olga was named after my Aunt Olga. She was tall, slender, blonde with a lovely fresh complexion. Her eyes were a lustrous blue, her nose was slightly turned up. She often jokingly referred to it as “the little stub”. When she smiled she displayed beautiful white teeth. As I look back, I am more and more appreciative of her fine character. She was an omnivorous reader and wrote some stories which she sent to Aunt Missy, Queen Marie of Rumania, who in turn sent Olga stories she had written. Olga’s poetry was destroyed by herself at the time of the revolution. She had a deep religious faith and often sat beside a patient at the hospital praying that God might spare the life of the young soldiers. Her touch on the piano was excellent and was able to master the most difficult compositions of Tchaikovsky, Wagner, Mozart, and Beethoven. Mother and Olga often played duets on the piano. Her talent for composing and writing was inherited from her Danish and Romanov sides which boasted a long line of artists, poets, sculptors and musicians. She was a mezzo soprano; she memorized musical compositions very easily. Mr. Konrad was her musical instructor, as well as ours. Father’s favorite was Tchaikovsky’s “Chanson Sans Paroles”. When she played it for him, his face lighted up with pleasure. She loved Father tenderly. Often, when Father was troubled, he talked over his problems with Olga and permitted no other member of the family to be present. She loved children and sponsored several who were confined to the hospital. She even provided for their education by setting aside money from her allowance.

Going back to our Rumanian cruise, we arrived in Odessa at night, where the Imperial train was ready to take us to Kishinev for the unveiling of the monument to Alexander I. I remember the trip especially because Alexei misbehaved. No doubt this was due to fatigue brought on by the heat on the train. In Kishinev we were the guests of the Governor, an old friend, who wore the longest beard I have ever seen, reaching almost to his waist.

At the tea which followed, champagne was served. At an opportune moment, Alexei took a glass of champagne and drank it down before anyone could stop him. Soon this champagne took effect and he became very gay so that all the ladies, old and young surrounded him. I never realized he possessed such a sense of humor. Youngster that he was, he did not realize what the champagne had done to him. Of course the family was terrified at this display. In the evening back on the train when the effect had worn off, Father gave him a scolding and he was put to bed.

We children now realized that Alexei’s illness and the Jubilee had brought our studies to a virtual halt. Alexei and I used to have our French lessons together, but now he was far ahead of me. French was much easier for him than for me. I was really bored with all my studies. When I entered the classroom, my face grew long, but when school hours were over, I shot out of the detested place like a bullet. As a result my tutors were not fond of me and I felt their disapproval.

We had been home a short while when the world was shocked at the news of the assassination of the Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria and his wife on the streets of Sarajevo, on June 28th, 1914. After that date Father spent very little time with us. He was constantly busy with his ministers, diplomats and the Grand Dukes. The President of France, M. Poincaré, spent four or five days with us at Alexandria Cottage in Peterhof. He was as complaisant as President Fallières whom he had recently replaced. Father felt drawn to him from the start, admiring his diplomacy and friendly manner. Several dinners were given in his honor with the Imperial family attending. Everyone looked grave and alarmed, and I gathered matters must be serious. Why should the assassination of an Austrian be so threatening to Russia? I was told that Russia had an agreement which might implicate us all unless the affair could be settled amicably. The hour the President departed, the Austrian ultimatum was served at once on Russia and on Serbia.

Out of this puzzling dilemma which hung over Russia, two things were clear to me: the quiet paleness of Father and Mother’s tearful entreaties imploring that Russia be kept out of war. Mother kept repeating, “The country is not recovered from one war before it is in another.” She was thinking of the Japanese war, whose horrors were still fresh in her mind. Mother’s agonized face vividly foreshadowed the tragedy ahead.

Every summer there was a review of regimental maneuvers at Krasnoe Selo (near Tsarskoe Selo). This time they were held in honor of King Frederick Augustus III of Saxony. We sisters enjoyed horses and each had a favorite horse of her own. Tatiana especially knew a great deal about them, since she had been taught riding by a competent riding master, but so did we all. The two older sisters were unusually graceful on horseback, more so than Marie and I.

Cossack horses were especially fascinating to me, since they seemed to understand one’s very thoughts. Tatiana described to me how the Cossack and his horse grow up together. Training begins when the young Cossack is given a horse, a progeny of a Cossack horse, trained to the requirements of the Cossack regiment. From then on boy and horse are one, inseparable, each learning to understand the other: the boy is the head and the horse is the body. When the responses are mutual, they are ready to enter actively the Cossack regiment. I often wished I were a boy so that I might be a Cossack with a noble horse and wear a stunning uniform.

We drove speedily past the cheering crowds. To see these maneuvers was most interesting and exciting as we watched from the Imperial pavilion. In one performance a large unit trotted in perfect formation, then suddenly all the riders jumped off their horses in unison, then jumped back on their saddles without a single horse breaking its gait or changing its speed. In another exercise each horseman threw his black cape around his own shoulders and over his horse, so skilfully that the cape covered both horse and rider. There were many stunts and jumps over wide trenches filled with water; no one fell into them. During the luncheon, which was served under tents following the exercise, a message came stating that Austria-Hungary had declared war on Serbia (August 1st, 1914). At once we left for home.

I remember previous years when I was taken to see the review of the troops annually in May. All the society of St. Petersburg felt it was a privilege to pay hundreds of rubles for a box seat at these maneuvers. The proceeds from the sale of tickets went to charities. I still carry in my mind that upon our approach a signal was given and cheers spread along the quays.

Our carriages were drawn each by two pairs of pure white horses. Father always rode to the left side of Mother’s and Grandmother’s equipage, accompanied by the staff. We sisters followed swiftly in our carriage between the lines of troops until we reached the Imperial box under a green tent. Father reviewed his troops. First to march were the men of his own Preobrazhensky regiment, then the Hussars, the Pavlovsky regiment, the Lancers, the cuirassiers and the others.

Father did not think that the Emperor Francis Joseph would wage war on Serbia on account of the killing of the Archduke and his wife. Father thought so because of the remark the old Emperor had made, in the presence of Father and persons about him, that the Archduke was good for nothing, that not a bone in his body was worth saving, and that he was not fit to carry the Crown.

During the latter part of the war several captured, high-ranking Austrian officers told the Court Chamberlain, General Tatishchev, that the old Emperor was directly responsible for the Sarajevo incident and that the Archduke was purposely sent there, where he was hated and murdered by oppressed Bosnians of the Dual Monarchy. The officers thought it was a deliberate excuse to provoke war and the aim was to destroy the little Kingdom of Serbia and take it under control as had happened earlier with Bosnia and Herzegovina. They knew that this little country would not be able to resist the two powers, Austria-Hungary and Germany. But those millions of suppressed plucky Serbs had already endured deprivation of freedom and arrests and confiscation of their property under the Dual Monarchy. They were determined to defend what was left of their country from being dismembered again, and all were willing to die for the right to live in their own land.

Father sent a telegram to Kaiser Wilhelm asking that the Austro-Hungarian-Serbian dispute be tried by the International Arbitration Court at The Hague. He also sent word to King Carol of Rumania to wire the Kaiser that Russia did not want war. But all was in vain. They took the killing of this good-for-nothing Archduke as a deliberate excuse, even though the murder was committed by their own citizens who resented the Dual Monarchy. It was common knowledge that Russian mobilization which was under way was directed against Austria, not Germany.