The Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo. March, 1904.
Olga Nikolaevna Romanova.
Papa and mama chose to tell me and my sisters the news on the balcony of the Alexander Palace. The Mauve Room would have also been a nice place to do so, but the beautiful green park can be seen from where we are standing, so I guess that is why they chose it. A wonderful view for a wonderful moment, I suppose.
We were all sitting on the balconyʼs chairs moments ago, but everyone is up celebrating right now. Everyone but me.
Tatiana gushes as she rubs mama's belly, which is stupid. It doesn't even look like there is a baby in there yet. Maria is smiling awkwardly, looking amusingly confused. She has no idea babies come from inside mommies. Mama has the biggest grin on her face, which is good, I guess. Good for her.
"I am not going to be the little one anymore!" Anastasia exclaims as she dances with papa. Well, you canʼt really call it dancing. Papa and Nastasia are just holding each other's hands while jumping and spinning around in circles.
It is unsurprising that Anastasia is happy about this. She becomes grumpy every time we four are playing and any of us points out she is the smallest. Lucky her. If I were the youngest, I wouldn't be as angry as I am right now either.
Everyone is happy but me. I am still sitting with my arms crossed.
I am the eldest, which is why I always salute the soldiers standing on guard as I pass by. Mine is not just any salute though, I salute the military way as papa does. I am the eldest, and that is the reason people sometimes refer to me as "little empress". It is the reason the ladies kiss my hand, something they rarely do with my little sisters, who are often just fussed over as if they were babies. It is the reason mama gives me more responsibilities and expects me to be the best behaved.
But none of that seems to matter now. Everyone lies. If mamaʼs baby happens to be a boy, he will become Tsar when the time comes, not me. At least that is what papa said: "If the baby is a boy he will become the future Emperor of Russia, isn't that exciting dears?"
No, it isnʼt, but I bit my tongue to avoid being honest. It is not fair because I think the oldest one should go next even if she is a girl, but maybe that is not what anyone thinks, which is not fair. What is wrong with being a girl? Is it because boys are better?
I already knew boys came first, that dear Uncle Mimi was next in line, and that mama and papa wanted a boy, but no one had ever treated me as if it were so. Papa and mama love to play with me and my sisters. They seem perfectly happy with us four all the time and have also called me "little empress." Papa compliments me in many ways, saying I have a sharp mind that will always be useful.
I had almost completely forgotten that papa and mama wanted to have a boy. I had started to believe that my father talked to me about all of those important things he does for a reason. Now I know the truth, and I am disappointed. Disappointed and sad. Thinking of my father makes me sad now. Remembering the time my dear Cousin Ella crowned me during that silly game makes me even sadder. I miss her.
"What happened Olga?" Mama approaches me. "Why that frown? Arenʼt you happy dear?" She looks very worried, and papa and Anastasia have stopped dancing.
My eyes water and I want to scream. Papa is looking at me with concern in his lovely eyes.
"I am happy for you", I blurt out, and then I get the urge to say it all, so I do so. I tell my parents everything I think very, very quickly. "I am glad because I know you wanted a boy and now you will both be happy if the baby is a boy. We weren't of much use, were we?" I am still frowning when I finish talking, my fingers sinking deep into the skin of my crossed arms.
Probably shocked by my words, papa opens his eyes widely, making me regret my words just a little bit. He has even stopped playing with Nastasia, who is raising her little arms and whining for his attention.
"How can you say such a thing sweetheart?" Papa picks Anastasia up. "You know mama and I will keep loving all of you the same way if you have a little brother. Of use? How preposterous! You donʼt even need to be of use, you are our precious children."
Papa turns to look at mama as if searching for her support. Mama is not looking back at him though. She is staring at me, frowning, perplexed, but I canʼt tell whether she is angry at me or just sad. Assuming she is indeed angry, I raise one eyebrow at her in defiance. She should know why I am angry. Mama has always said that as the oldest I need to be the best behaved, an example to my little sisters. I remember what happened a few days ago in the nursery after cousin Heinrich died and become even angrier.
Maria was sad and worried about dying next. It was not because she was afraid, she wasn't, but because she would miss us. Tanechka and I consoled her, explaining to her that nothing of the sort was going to happen and that both Heinrich and Ella had been very sick, which is why they had died. Anastasia made funny faces at Masha and would grab her cheeks to make her smile. I could tell Maria didnʼt particularly enjoy that but was too kind to say anything to our well-meaning little sister. She loves her too much.
After a few minutes of annoying Mashka without meaning to, Anastasia left and came back with a cushion. We started a pillow fight that would move on to include throwing toys at each other. Nothing new, we had done it before. It is very fun and even mama plays with us like that whenever she is not too busy. I love it.
That day, however, Mashka pulled a thread from one of our blankets by accident while we were playing with it. My sisters and I were pretending to be Spanish bullfighters, which was my idea, but it was Mashka who stepped on the sheet and somehow ripped off a portion of it. Then Anastasia, because none other would have dared, kept pulling the string off thinking it was fun or something.
Maria followed suit and last thing I know even Tanechka had joined them, so I also did. It was funny to separate the many strings little by little and watch as the blanket became smaller. The entire bedsheet was eventually undone, and it was incredibly amusing to play with the soft remains, like touching a warm version of snow. We all did it, even Tatiana. I remember her smiling as she grabbed the remains of the blanket and spread them all over my head.
But, oh no! It was all my fault according to mama. "You are older", she said, "you should have known better. There are poor people in the world with not one warm blanket at all." None of my little sisters were scolded, but I was.
I have always been proud of being the eldest, of being ahead in classes, of being the tallest, of knowing more and have my dear Tatiana and sweet Maria look up to me, but what is the point of being the oldest if all you get is the responsibilities without any of the benefits?
I am sorry for hurting mama and even more for the fact she will probably be mad at me for a while, but what I said is what I feel. Looking back, it is likely that the day she scolded me, mama was just angry and sad about poor Cousin Heinrich. I worry more about losing papaʼs special affection.
Oo
Recently, we have been visiting mama's hospital daily. Since the war started, we knit and embroider so much that we have little time to play, which makes me sad. Tatiana and I used to go riding so often as well…
A few months after Cousin Ella died, we started playing dolls every day. In many of these games, our dolls were angels in heaven. I came up with the idea, but Tanechka was the one who organized everything and decided which part of the nursery would represent each part of heaven just as we had imagined it. We even set up a blanket slide on a chair from which the angels would land on the cushion clouds. At times we forget everything is make believe, and Tatiana and I will find ourselves talking about our idea of heaven as if it were real, as if Cousin Ella were there, doing all of those delightful things.
Mashka, darling, is so easily pleased by any game. She always enjoys herself so much, sometimes getting the best ideas. Anastasia is barely more than a toddler, and she sure acts like one, disrupting all of our games and making the dolls say things that donʼt make any sense, which is why Tatiana and I love having her around. She makes everything more amusing. Anastasia doesnʼt get mad when we make fun of the things she says. She even seems to appreciate it, as we can tell by her uncontrollable laughter.
I think God knew what He was doing when He created us four. My sisters and I are perfect the way we are. Tatiana is my best friend, Mashka is our sweet and ever enthusiastic young sister, and little Nastasia is joy and hilarity personified. We have no use for a new little brother or sister. What special thing can he or she do? What role can he or she fulfill that isnʼt already taken? But my little sisters are eager to have another sibling for no reason so… I guess I will just have to accept him or her when they arrive.
Maria is so excited about the baby. She talks to us about it every hour of the day. She also asks mama when "our baby" is going to be born every day and won't play anything, work, or even study before feeding and then singing lullabies to a baby doll that is supposed to be our little brother or sister. Of course we have to call the doll "sweet baby sister" or "baby brother" for poor Masha's sake.
It is starting to become just slightly annoying.
Mama and papa think it is adorable. Miss Eagar, our other nannies, Trina, and all of mama's friends think so too. Tatiana loves to play along, pretending to be a mother or aunt to the baby as well, and Anastasia can find joy in anything.
Well… I will admit, maybe only I think it is annoying.
Oo
Even though I miss the free time I used to have before, I am glad we are visiting our wounded soldiers. Going to the hospital can often be sad, but our brave warriors need to be cheered up, which is why I have brought a little boy doll with me to give it to one of them.
We are all having breakfast as a family before our visit to mamaʼs hospital though, so Miss Eagar, my sisters, and I are going to wait outside papaʼs private apartments for him to come out. Mashka is the one who begged Miss Eagar to allow us to do so, as she just couldnʼt wait to see papa today.
Two Abyssinian guards are charged with opening and closing the doors that lead to the room. These sentries are uniformed beautifully, wearing coats of black wool embroidered with double-headed eagles in gold thread over short white jackets and waistcoats of crimson velvet with wide woolen red trousers. They also wear white turbans.
The Abyssinians have dark, almost black, skin. This is because they come from distant lands. When I was a little girl, I used to think they looked funny as well. One day, I said this out loud in front of them and mama scolded me for being rude. They no longer seem funny to me, just different.
Papa explained to me that the Abyssinians have been part of our Imperial Court since the times of Peter the Great. The Russian Consul to the Empire of Ethiopia, which is in Africa, recruited them. It is said that the rulers of Ethiopia are direct descendants of King Solomon and Queen Sheba, like, from the Bible. That is why they are known as the Solomonic Dynasty. One of the most famous Abyssinians has been the godchild of Peter the Great, Abram Petrovich Gannibal. Because Abram was very good at math, Peter the Great sent him to study in France. Later on, Gannibal became a general. The great Russian poet Pushkin is Abramʼs great-grandson.
One of the Abyssinians standing before papaʼs bedroom door right now is our friend Jim Hercules. It is weird that he was hired, because Jim is not from Ethiopia, but from America. When I was little I thought all people from America looked like Jim, because Jim was the only American person I knew.
Once my sisters, Miss Eagar, and I arrive at the door, I wave my hand at Jim Hercules.
"Hi, Jim!" I greet him in English. Miss Eagar smiles at Jim and gives him a small nod.
"Good morning, Olga Nikolaevna", he replies with a smile as he kneels to be at eye level with my little sisters. No guards are supposed to do that. Abyssinian guards, in particular, stand tall and immobile as if they had been cast in bronze, but most of the men guarding the halls of our many palaces are our friends. My sisters and I enjoy talking to them and they love indulging us.
"How was your day?" Tanechkaʼs tone is as cordial as usual.
"Just beginning", he answers. "But we have had a fine week, thank you very much, Tatiana Nikolaevna."
"How is your family back in America, Jim?" My little sister Maria is touching Jim's beautiful uniform, and so is Nastasia. "How are your friends?"
Mashka loves asking the guards and servants about their friends and families. She remembers everything she is told, and it is amusing to listen to her recalling it.
"Oh, they are very well", Jim replies, and after briefly describing how each of his friends is faring, he adds: "They have asked about you."
"Really?" Mariaʼs eyes become bigger than usual.
"Yes", Jim grins. "They are very curious about the four little Grand Duchesses who live inside a big palace in a mysterious and beautiful foreign land."
"Tell them that we will send them pictures and painted Easter eggs and blinis so they can try them because those are Russian", Tatiana says to him. She then turns to Miss Eagar. "We can ask mama and papa, right Miss Eagar?"
Tatiana and I both look at our nanny expectantly. Blinis are thin wheat Russian pancakes. I do think Jim likes them.
"Sure dears", Miss Eagar replies, smiling at Jim.
"When are you bringing us guva jels again?" Maria asks. "I like them!"
Miss Eagar and I laugh, making little Anastasia laugh as well.
"Mashka!" Tatiana exclaims, appalled by such straightforwardness. Jim doesnʼt seem upset though.
Mashka meant guava jelly, which is like candy made with the pulp of the guava, which is… like fruit, I think, a fruit that grows in America, I guess. Guava jelly tastes very good and sweet, especially on toast, and the last time Jim went to America to visit his family, he brought back some of it for us. Now he knows how much our Mashka loves sweet things.
"Soon I will bring a jar just for you", Jim directs a smile at Mashka. "When I visit my family during the holidays."
Miss Eagar, my sisters, and I continue conversing with Jim as we wait for mama and papa to come out.
Jim used to be a boxer. That is why he is so tall and strong. His parents lived in the South, and they were slaves before the American Civil War happened, so I think it is good that the North won. Jim moved to New York and started boxing, later doing so all over the world. He met my babushka in London, and she was the one who invited him to be an Abyssinian here in Russia even though he is not really an Abyssinian.
Little Nastya loves boxing with Jim. She just started doing it right now. Our friend is dodging my little sister and pretending to be hurt whenever she does manage to punch him, which is making Miss Eagar, Tatiana, Maria, and I laugh a lot, especially because Anastasia makes the funniest faces.
When my youngest sister gets tired of being silly, Jim asks me about the doll.
"It is for a special friend who is suffering very, very much", I explain, and my heart sinks as I remember my friend Vladimir. I lower my gaze.
"You are a good girl, Olga Nikolaevna", Jim says.
Oo
After breakfast with papa, my sisters, mama, and I visit the hospital as planned.
Tatiana and I walk in holding hands, but she suddenly pulls away when something catches her attention.
"What is that thing in his head for?" My sister asks mama, pointing her finger at a doctor walking by.
"That is a head mirror", mama replies. "It is used to examine the patientʼs ear, nose, and throat."
"Oh!" Tanechka exclaims with great interest.
"Mama", I say. "Can you let Tanechka wear one?"
Tatiana's eyes light up as she looks between me and mama, who smiles before asking the doctor for the head mirror. "Just for one second", she assures him.
Tatiana is delighted to try the artifact on, even though it is too big for her. Maria, Anastasia and I giggle at the sight.
"Look at me!" Mashka yells excitedly at Tatiana, opening her mouth widely and pulling her tongue out. Tatiana smiles and immediately joins Maria's game, touching her chubby cheeks and pretending to check her throat. At once, Anastasia grabs Tanechka's arm rather roughly and opens her own mouth.
"Now me!" My youngest sister exclaims. "Am I ill? My throat hurts!" Tatiana attends to her right away.
I chuckle. Anastasia canʼt stand not being the center of attention for more than a minute.
From their beds, the wounded men surrounding mama, my sisters, and I are smiling at us with adoration. I smile back at them. They are so brave and loyal. It is not truly us they love so much, but papa, because papa loves them all and really wants to take care of them as if they were his children. God gave him that responsibility.
I honestly have never been as fond of this place as Tatiana is. Tatiana is always asking questions about everything, such as the way the nurses fold or put on the bandages on the wounded and what each of the instruments we see them cleaning are for. The other day we played doctor with our dolls at her suggestion. Maria and Anastasia got bored rather quickly, so they started playing mommies in the corner, but Tatiana and I had the time of our lives. Tanechka can make everything feel real.
Playing anything with Tatiana is always fun, even playing hospital, but this is a real hospital, and I am too busy looking at the men pitifully to even consider having fun. I don't understand how they are all so cheerful every time they see us when they are stuck in their beds. They become happy, call us by our titles, and ask for us to come and talk to them about our days.
Many have missing limbs. Poor things, I feel so bad. How horrid the Japs are! Wanting people to be like this.
The healthy ones may be sent back to the front soon. It is in moments like these that I am glad I wasnʼt born a boy despite the fact I would have had the opportunity to be like papa if I had indeed been one.
After playing with the head mirror for a while, Tatiana gives it back to the doctor. My sisters and I go separate ways to sit with our favorite soldiers. Mine is Vladimir. He is missing both his legs, which are heavily bandaged under his blankets, and yet his eyes light up every time he sees me.
"Your Imperial Highness!" He happily exclaims.
"Hi", I sit on his bed. "Look what I brought you." I place the doll in his arms.
"Oh, you shouldnʼt have."
"You donʼt like it?" I ask.
"I donʼt like it", his expression turns sour. I look down, pretending to be hurt. I don't actually believe him though. "I love it", he suddenly adds with a playful grin. "Thank you, Your Imperial Highness, this will make my stay here a bit less dull." Vladimir hugs the doll I gave him and I almost get the urge to cry.
Vladimir and I start chatting and he compliments my dress.
"What a pretty dress you are wearing", he says.
"Thank you!" I look down at my skirt and beam. My dress is white, but some of the lace adorning it is blue. Tatiana is wearing an identical dress, but the dresses Maria and Anastasia are wearing have yellow lace instead. Although mama does occasionally have me and my three sisters dress the same way, she prefers dressing me and Tatiana one way and my two youngest sisters another way. Mama has taken a liking for calling me and Tatiana "the big pair", our two youngest sisters being "the little pair". This is probably because I share a room with Tatiana while Masha and Nastasia have a different one. I do like being part of the "big" pair.
Right now, Tatiana is talking to a soldier lying a few beds away from Vladimirʼs. Anastasia is in mamaʼs arms, laughing at another wounded soldierʼs joke. Maria is gently caressing her favorite soldierʼs hand. Both of them are smiling. He is a young man, only a few years older than Cousin Dmitri.
Vladimir tells me about his life. He liked to ride horses and play tennis. Now he will most likely never be able to do such things again. He lost his little brother as well.
By the time we leave the hospital, I hate the Japanese for what they have done to all of these good men more than ever. They are like a pack of wild animals who started killing us for no reason. I hope all those monkeys die.
Oo
The Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo. June, 1904.
Months go by. My sisters and I keep "doing our part", as mama says. We have been making items of clothing for our brave and loyal soldiers. We do other interesting things as well. Papa has gotten thousands of letter-forms printed so that the soldiers who donʼt know how to write can fill them quickly. My sisters, Miss Eagar, and I help by folding the letter-forms, stamping and putting them in envelopes.
The form of the letter goes like this: "My dear parents, I am at_ in the battle of_; I was wounded in_ (or) I am ill in hospital; (or) I am in good health. How are_? Give my love to_."
The blanks are meant to be filled in by someone who can write, often a nurse. These letters will help cheer the hearts of the soldiersʼ families.
People all over Russia have been very generous. There is a corridor at the Winter Palace packed with cases full of things for the soldiers. They are sent off every week.
Mama wished for every soldier to receive a separate bundle for Easter, each containing one shirt, one handkerchief, one pair of socks, a set of bandages for the legs, one woolen cap, one parcel of tobacco with cigarette papers, one piece of soap and tow for washing, tea, coffee, sugar, notepaper, stamped envelopes, and a printed letterform.
Nearly everyone living or working at the palace sent at least one such parcel with the name and address of the donor inside, and in return they received many grateful letters from the recipients after Easter.
I do play with my sisters every once in a while whenever we are not busy making clothes for the soldiers. Last April, Tanechka and I found the first blue flower at the Bablovo Park. Tatiana told Babushka about it in a letter. We hope to see her and our cousins very soon.
Maria, Anastasia, and I were so sick we couldn't even leave bed, so for a while only Tanechka went out to pick flowers with mama and papa. We are better now though. Our friend Sonia has written us a lot of letters. The poor dear is still ill.
Mamaʼs belly has grown noticeably, confirming I have a new baby brother or sister on the way. I am yet to be pleased about it.
I am at papa's study, sitting on the chair in front of his counter. He is working, reading one of the many reports on his desk. The papers are organized in two piles, and the unread pile is bigger, but regardless of this, papa is allowing himself to make a bit of room for me. We have been talking about the war.
The Japanese have attempted to deny us Russians the use of Port Arthur. On the 13th of February, the Japanese attempted to block the entrance to Port Arthur by sinking several steamers in the deep water channel to the port, but they sank too deep to be an effective barrier. In April, two Russian pre-dreadnought battleships, the flagship Petropavlovsk and the Pobeda, snuck out of the port, but Japanese mines sank the Petropavlovsk almost immediately, and the Pobeda had to be taken back to the port to be repaired. This is all very sad because many sailors and soldiers have died.
The Japs are now sieging Port Arthur. They have tried numerous frontal assaults but havenʼt been very successful yet. The good thing is we have learned from our oversights, and papa tells me we have already started mine laying just like the Japanese. On 15 May 1904, two Japanese battleships, the Yashima and the Hatsuse, were lured into a Russian minefield off Port Arthur, each striking at least two mines. The Hatsuse sank, and so did the Yashima! I was very, very glad to hear about it.
It still makes me feel special to have papa tell me about all of these important, grown-up things, but it does not feel the same way anymore. I am scared.
"I am glad the Japs are having a hard time", I tell papa. "They are such savages, putting traps like that, I love that we are also doing it now, I hope so many more of them are killed."
"In no time those silly wild monkeys will be defeated and I will have way more time for you and your sisters, my dear", papa signs a document that he later adds to the pile of papers he has already read, the smaller one. He then takes a new document from the big pile of unread reports and takes a look at it.
I don't think he will have much more time for me when the war is over. I think he will be way too excited about the new baby, especially if he is a boy.
"Papa…" I want to cry out that it is not fair, to tell him that I am scared, to ask him why, but to do so would only worry him, and I donʼt even know if he will tell me the truth. Maybe I should not have started to say anything. Now papa has stopped reading and is instead looking at me with a mournful expression. He knows there is something wrong. I sigh, already regretting what I am about to ask:
"Papa, are boys always smarter than girls?"
"Oh, sweetheart!" He exclaims.
"Why? Why are the succession laws like that? Why do all boys and men in the family go first?"
"Boys are not always smarter than girls", he assures me, "on the contrary", he adds with a grin, "and you are the smartest little girl I know." He caresses my cheek, making me smile.
"But then…" I begin to inquire, but papa seems to know what I am about to ask and cuts in providing me with an answer:
"But the law is very clear, dear. Do not worry too much about it, as it has nothing to do with you." He continues reading his report.
I donʼt like his answer, not because it is not the answer I wanted, but because it doesn't explain anything.
"You said I was very smart!" I complain, frustrated. "And you are the Tsar, so you can change all the rules you like because God entrusted you to take care of Russia, right?"
"Right", he concedes with a grin as he looks back up at me for an instant, shaking his head. He then proceeds reading his report.
It is horrible. Papa thinks I am not being serious.
"I want to do it papa", I insist, becoming confident as soon as I draw papaʼs attention. "I want to be just like you and Catherine the Great when I grow up. I want to take care of my people, only I would become Russiaʼs little mother instead of father because I am a girl. I read and write very well, Mr. Petrov says so. I think I could learn to work just as well and fast as you."
"Sweetheart!" Papa beams, his eyes filled with love. He moves his chair closer to mine, leans forward, and kisses my forehead.
"I can do it papa", I look straight into his eyes. My voice comes out small and childish though. I doubt papa will take me seriously now.
"Dear, it is very good that you are doing well in your lessons, but it is not whoever is smarter that becomes Tsar, but whoever God chooses."
"Well God is fair, isnʼt He?" I frown, crossing my arms. "I think it would be fairer for the oldest to get the birthright regardless of whether they are a boy or a girl."
Papa chuckles. "Little boys and little girls are both meant to fulfill different roles in life", he explains. "Arenʼt they?"
I stay silent for a moment, watching him smile at me. "I guess", I say after a minute or so without being entirely convinced, and I canʼt help but shrug as well. "I mean, boys wear pants once they are old enough and girls wear dresses… but, I didnʼt know we were meant to be so different…"
"We are", papa asserts, "but that doesnʼt mean one gender is better than the other. Men and women were created differently by God Himself, they are meant to complement each other."
"Like how?"
"Well… men are meant to lead as they have always done throughout history, and women should be there to offer support."
"But what is the use of studying so much if all I have to do is be supportive?" I ask, slightly annoyed. "I get bored sometimes in class… what am I going to do with all of the things I have learned?"
Papa smiles at me, places his hand on my back, and draws me closer.
"You", papa begins, "may marry a prince or even a king and in time come to be a very helpful and supportive wife to your husband, just like your mama is to me. You will work to create and finance charities, which requires a lot of knowledge as well, and most importantly, you will use those wits of yours to make sure the people of your adoptive country get along with Russia so that there are no more wars like the current one in the future, how about that?"
I shrug again, rolling my eyes.
"Or you may stay in Russia and help the future Tsar with his job", papa adds.
I place my elbow on papa's desk, rest my head on my hand, and sigh in resignation.
"What do you think?" Papa insists.
"I guess", I repeat unsurely, raising my eyebrows. Now it is papa who sighs. Fortunately, he is not angry. He is barely ever angry at me.
I had never given much thought to what I was going to do when I grew older before, so I don't know why I care so much all of the sudden. All I know now is that being older is not better. It would be fair for it to be, but it isn't, not unless you are a boy. They get to do all the fun stuff, which is not fair.
At least girls donʼt have to go to war and have their limbs blown away once they grow up… I almost shiver at the reminder.
"You are still too young to understand the ways of the world", papa takes his chair back to its original spot behind the desk. "I already suspect you are going to become an exceptional woman", he sits back down, "different from the rest."
Well, I hope not. I donʼt want to be different from other women, why is he saying that?
"I personally would prefer you to anyone else in the whole wide world as a successor", he says, and I smile at that, "but the Pauline Laws are still useful, an extraordinary and valuable document which prevented the illegal transfers of power that had become the norm in Russia before their creation."
"Oh!" I exclaim. "You mean when Peter the Great was illegally succeeded by his wife Catherine I, who was a foreigner and not of noble birth."
"Exactly, and then later when Peter III was murdered by his wife and her allies, she succeeded him, also illegally, by usurping the throne from her own son. Paul I made the laws similar to those of the stable monarchies in central Europe so that Russia could avoid these politically unstable transitions of power between reigns in the future. The objective was that the throne should never be vacant and Russia never without a successor determined by law rather than public opinion. The Fundamental Laws remain a valuable legal document for its solid succession practice, one that leaves no doubt as to who is next in line. I chose to preserve the laws not for our sake, but for the sake of Russia, because I wouldn't forgive myself if any choice of mine were to cause trouble in the future."
"Oh, I do understand better now… but it is a shame."
Papa finishes reading another document and signs it. "I know you love our conversations about my duty, sweetheart, but I keep a lot from you, this is harder than you think it is."
"It is?"
"Yes, it is a burden…" Papa starts playing with his mustache. For a while, it seems he has become lost in his thoughts, but then he confides something to me. "I don't know if I have told you this before, but I never wanted to become Tsar, God simply chose me. There are so many things I am responsible for, so many problems plague the country, and there is so little I can do."
"Like what papa?" I am surprised to hear papa sound so worried and helpless. "Problems other than the war?"
Papa shakes his head and smiles, doing so as if regretting having told me anything. "We will talk about that some other day", he says.
Now I want to know what those problems are more than ever.
Papa opens one of the drawers in his desk, looks for his small silver cigarette case, picks a tube, lights it with a match, and starts smoking. "Even if it were a blessing and not a curse for you to carry the same heavy burden as I do, we must all accept God's will, however difficult it may be", he changes the subject. "We all have different roles in life, and I really hope that when the time comes, you will, for the sake of Russia, support whoever happens to become Tsar after me. The entire family must always be united in support of the Tsar so that Russia may prosper, do you understand dear?"
Papa leans in and kisses my cheek. I nod, still unsure and only doing so because I donʼt want papa to think I resent Uncle Mimi or would hate my little brother if I had one… or something. That is not it. I will definitely do my duty for my beloved motherland, whatever it may be, however boring. It is just that I will always, always wonder… what if?
And I am scared.
"Papa…" I say softly, almost whispering. "Will you stop talking to me about your work once you have a boy to do the same with?"
"How can you even suggest that?!" Papa exclaims loudly in a playful tone I know too well. "Of course not dear! I love our talks! I look forward to them in fact. They brighten my days whenever I am stuck here."
I smile, but my eyes fill with tears from the sheer relief, and despite the embarrassment I know I will experience by doing so, I let my tears flow freely as I give papa a very long hug, a hug he warmly returns as he reassures me with comforting words.
Now everything is fine. I still fail to be excited about the new baby, but everything is fine.
Oo
It seems papa talked to mama about my worries, because she is no longer giving me stern looks, and last week she joined me and Tatianaʼs game. My sister and I were playing nurses with our dolls past our bedtime and mama played with us, which is nice. I love mama.
Tanechka has been chattering nonstop lately, which is unusual. Mashka is the one who talks most, but the hospital visits have sparked Tanechka's interest, and we are also going to see our grandmother very soon. Tatiana is excited about that, and so she talks a lot.
My sisters and I are sitting on the playroom floor crocheting some items for the soldiers. Miss Eagar is sitting on a rocking chair nearby, reading a newspaper.
"Do you think Babushka visits many hospitals as well?" Tatiana asks me.
"I think so, because she works with the Red Cross," I reply.
"I can't wait to see her and Aunt Olga at Peterhof."
"Me too", I agree, "but Cousin Irina most of all."
"Remember that time Mr. Petrov mistook me for Cousin Irina?" She stops crocheting for a moment and grins, raising her eyebrows.
"Yes!" I burst into laughter. "I donʼt blame our professor, you do look a lot like Cousin Irina." She really does. Tatiana and Irina both have fine features and similarly shaped eyes, although my sisterʼs eyes are longer while Irinaʼs are a bit rounder. Irina also has a slimmer face.
"I donʼt look that much like Cousin Irina!" Tanechka playfully protests.
"You do!"
Mr. Petrov is our Russian language and literature teacher, although he used to be an army officer and a senior government administrator responsible for military schools. Pyotr became our teacher in 1903, and we love him very much. His full name is Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov, but we usually refer to him by his initials, P.V.P.
I remember that funny day fondly. Irina never visits on school days, but on one occasion Aunt Xenia and Uncle Sandro surprised me and my sisters during tea time, bringing our cousins along with them. Following his final lesson, P.V.P happened not to have left the palace yet when he found Irina playing tag with her brother Andrushka in the corridor outside the classroom.
P.V.P scolded our cousin after she accidentally pushed him against the wall rather roughly, and he did so referring to her as Tatiana. Despite having reprimanded her very gently, our poor teacher was mortified when he took a better look at Irina and realized she wasn't Tatiana. There is trust between P.V.P. and my parents, but scolding a child whose parents he is not as familiar with must have been uncomfortable for him.
"You look exactly like Irina, Tanechka", Nastasia taunts our sister, but her little fingers don't stop working on the scarf she is making.
I smile at Anastasia. I bet she is only saying that to tease our sister.
"Ugh, whatever", Tanechka shrugs. "Irina is prettier than all of you either way", she points her finger at each of us to make her point and then continues crocheting, raising her head in a haughty way and closing her eyes as she does, all of this, I can bet, without making a single mistake.
I chuckle at this. I am aware that Tanechkas's arrogant attitude is just pretend. We have played too many years together. I know her.
"Not true", Mashka protests, taking Tatiana's comment way too seriously, "we are all very beautiful, and mama says inner beauty matters more."
"Sure, Masha dear", Tatiana says gently and with the most pleasant of smiles.
"Remember that time we raced during Pyotrs class?" I ask her.
"Oh, yes!" She exclaims. "Poor P.V.P!"
I am thankful to P.V.P for being so nice to us despite our behaviour. I admit we four can be a handful, wild, and out of control.
My sisters and I love playing with Professor Pyotr, shouting funny things at him, laughing with him, pushing him, and generally hauling him about without mercy.
Tatiana and I may be meek as mice while studying in the classroom, but as soon as P.V.P departs for just a minute, a wild scramble will follow during which I, and sometimes Tanechka, will jump on the sofa and race along the row of neatly positioned chairs against the wall.
One time, while my sister and I were in one of those wild frenzies, Maria and Anastasia heard us and came rushing in from the nursery. We four then started dancing and racing up and down the corridors. Anastasia thought of bringing a gramophone so we could listen to music as we danced.
We laughed and screamed so much that day, even Maria and Tatiana, who are usually calm. When the next teacher arrived at the classroom, Tanechka almost fainted, but Mashka and Nastasia were not disturbed and in fact tried to convince the teacher to join our games. That did not work.
Oo
Nastya became restless after hearing me and Tatiana recall that incredibly joyous day while crocheting on the floor. She started behaving silly, pulling our hair and then daring us to catch her, dragging Mashka along. Tatiana was infuriated by Anastasiaʼs antics at the beginning, but she eventually warmed up to them. The four of us ended up playing tag in the playroom, and we haven't stopped. Poor Miss Eagar becomes startled every time we run close to her chair, but luckily for us, it appears that she doesnʼt want to ruin our fun.
As Tanechka chases a giggling Maria, I get a glimpse of Anastasia peeking out from behind our nannyʼs rocking chair. She catches me staring at her and immediately hides back in a fit of laughter. I rush to seize her and grab the skirt of her dress, causing her to fall. My heart stops for a moment, but my youngest sister is as tough as a rock and doesn't cry but only smiles. Feeling relieved, I tickle Nastasia until her laughter is the loudest noise in the room.
Mashka barely reacts when Tatiana catches her. She is no longer giggling and seems to have lost interest in the game. Miss Eagar is still reading, and when she sees Maria approaching her, she stops rocking the chair she is sitting on and looks at my sister.
"Who are they?" Maria lays her hands on the arm of the chair, tilting her head with curiosity. Nastya manages to untangle herself from me and soon joins Maria, also leaning in to take a look at Miss Eagar's newspaper from the opposite side of the seat.
I decide to continue crocheting and thus sit back down on the floor in front of Miss Eagar. Tatiana sits next to me and does the same thing.
"Those are the children of the Crown Prince of Japan, my dears", Miss Eagar answers.
What our nanny said doesn't seem right. The Japs are not normal people.
"Horrid little people!" Maria slaps the picture with her palm, making me and Tatiana flinch. "They came and destroyed our poor ships and drowned our poor sailors!"
It is sad for me to see Maria act like that. Our fat little bow-wow is usually so sweet… but I don't blame her, because her anger is clearly righteous. Maria loves our dear soldiers, enjoys knowing them, and becomes particularly upset whenever she hears any of them are in pain.
"I hate them too", I agree with my sister.
Miss Eagar's green eyes widen in shock, maybe even horror, which surprises me. "Oh no, darlings!" She points at specific parts of the photograph with her index finger so that Maria can see them more clearly. "It was not these innocent little children who did that, look at them, I bet that they don't even understand what is going on, they are only babies, younger than your little Anastasia."
"Yes", Maria insists with determination, "those little babies did it. Mama told me the Japs were all only little people." Miss Eagar gives Maria a sad, disappointed look.
I had never witnessed Masha displaying such wrathful vindictiveness. Not towards babies, she loves babies, but if the Japs were not such monsters, Maria wouldn't be as mad. I get the urge to defend my sister. I don't think those things in the picture Miss Eagar showed her can be real babies anyway.
"Maria is right", I continue crocheting diligently. "Papa told me they started attacking us for no reason. I hope the Russian soldiers will kill all the Japanese, not leave even one alive."
My three sisters listen attentively. Focused on her work, Tatiana may also be doing so without looking at me.
"Olga!" Miss Eagar gives me a stern look. "Really?"
I stay silent, at first because I do not understand why she is so upset, but then I realize it also makes me angry to hear Miss Eagar defend those monkeys who drowned and burnt our soldiers alive.
"Why do you like the Japanese?" I become increasingly emotional despite my best attempts not to. "They are the ones who are killing our soldiers, but if they all die, our poor country will stop being attacked and no more soldiers will be injured or die."
Miss Eagar sighs. "But dear, there are many people in Japan who are not killing anyone or ever have."
"Really?" I inquire. "That newspaper seems to have the wrong information." Aren't the Japanese just the killers who sink our ships?
"Of course, most people in Japan do not fight", Miss Eagar answers. "Do children in Russia fight? Do the elderly? Or the women?"
But that would mean…
"Clearly not", I admit. "Are there really women and little children in a place that is called Japan? Is that a land like Russia, where the Japanese live?"
What do they do there? Do they spend their time planning how to attack us?
"Really, really", Miss Eagar insists. "There are many little children and women in Japan, people who cannot fight because they are small and defenceless like you and your sisters, who only play and make clothes for the soldiers. Why would they be mentioned in a newspaper otherwise?"
I shrug, not because of a lack of interest, but because I genuinely do not know.
"And the women in Japan also become nurses in order to help their wounded soldiers get better, just like Russian nurses", Miss Eagar explains. "Did you know that there are Russian nurses tending to the Japanese wounded here, in Russia? There are also many Japanese nurses helping the Russian wounded get better."
This surprises me immensely, so I open my eyes widely, raising my eyebrows.
"I did not know that", I confess, absolutely bewildered. "Why would they do that? How can the nurses do that knowing the soldiers they are caring for may have killed some of their own soldiers?"
It doesn't make sense, any sense.
"That is a very interesting question dear", Miss Eagar begins. "You already know that during wars, enemy soldiers kill each other, right?"
"Right."
"Well, some of them decide they do not want to fight anymore and thus surrender to their enemies, maybe by raising their hands in the sky", Miss Eagar raises her own hands to demonstrate what she is talking about before continuing. "These soldiers are not meant to be killed, but taken prisoner."
I nod as a way to indicate I understand, although I do not quite know how one can surrender in the middle of a battle, and what if the other soldier doesn't hear you say you surrender and shoots anyway? So scary… I am glad I am a girl.
"Some years ago", Miss Eagar explains further, "many nations came together in order to discuss, among many other things, how captured enemy soldiers were to be treated. It was decided that all countries must take care of their war prisoners."
"Was Russia one of those nations?" I ask. "Did papa agree to that?"
"Well of course dear", my nanny nods and smiles. "His Imperial Majesty agreed and was in fact the one who made it possible for the nations in question to come together and discuss this."
"Wow!" I exclaim. "That is something I am now looking forward to talking about with papa!"
Miss Eagar chuckles. "After hearing about this, do still think it would be good for the Russian soldiers to kill all of the Japanese? Even little children like these?"
Miss Eagar shows me the picture in the newspaper for the first time. It is that of a couple with two children. One of them is around Anastasia's age, and the other one looks even younger. None of those little babies would be able to kill any of our soldiers, not even if they wanted to.
I have nothing left to do but shake my head. No, I do not think it would be good for our Russian soldiers to kill them.
I take notice of the text underneath the newspaper picture and become curious. Crawling on my knees so that I don't have to stand up, I approach Miss Eagar's newspaper with the unfinished item of clothing still in hand and read: Crown Prince Yoshihito of Japan, his wife Kujō Sadako, and their two small sons, Hirohito and Yasuhito.
They are cute, and I can imagine them behaving like the little pair and... oh, right! Their father is a crown prince!
"Have they an emperor in Japan?" I ask.
"Certainly", Miss Eagar nods.
Those babies are more similar to us than I thought.
"Do they have policemen as well?" I inquire further.
"Of course", she says. "The Japanese want murderers and thieves imprisoned just as much as Russians do. Both nations want their people, and little children like these in particular, to be kept from harm." Miss Eagar raises the newspaper to illustrate her point.
Ha! Why do they kill us then? Because they hate us? But why? And then why do they take care of our wounded soldiers when they surrender? I don't understand… so I keep asking questions:
"And firefighters?"
"That also."
"Do they have schools?" I ask. "Do Japanese children go to school and have lessons like me and my sisters do?"
"Sure, dear."
"Do people in Japan get married?"
"All the time", Miss Eagar laughs. "That happens everywhere."
"Do people in Japan love their children nana?"
"Absolutely, I am sure most of them do, the same way your parents love you and people all over the world love their children."
I stay silent for a while, trying to process all of this new information. Papa never told me about this. If he mentions the Japanese, it is to talk about the war and how much he wants Russia to win. If the Japanese love their children, it means little Japanese kids will also miss their fathers every time our soldiers kill theirs.
I am a little bit ashamed of my ignorance, especially because I thought I sounded really smart when I said I wanted all the Japanese dead. I didn't sound like a grown-up then, I probably sounded like a little girl.
"I did not know that the Japs were people like ourselves", I tell my nanny. "I thought they were only like monkeys."
"That is quite alright dear", she says. "One learns something new every day."
But what I learned today is horrible.
"It doesn't make any sense", I assert. "Why would the Russians and the Japanese help each other while also killing each other? I don't understand it, if the Japanese are people, and they are reasonable and honorable enough to keep promises and tend to the wounded prisoners… if Russians and Japanese can both organize themselves and help each other like that, why not simply quit killing each other as well? Wouldn't that be easier?"
"You are so bright dear", Miss Eagar gives me a sad smile. "But the truth is… I don't know, it is very complicated, and I don't think anyone knows the whole answer…"
I am deeply frustrated right now.
"Why did the Japanese start a war then?" I cry. "Don't they want to be alive for their children? And if we are so similar… why do they hate us so much?"
"Those are difficult questions, but you have already been taught about previous wars in history class, haven't you?"
I nod because I have, but only now does the horror of it all sink in. I just never thought of the French or the Mongols as monsters because they invaded us a long, long time ago... and none of my teachers called them that. My parents and their friends didn't call them that either.
They were all people. I look around to see whether Tanechka, sitting next to the spot where I was minutes ago, is as amazed and distraught as I am, but she is looking down at her work, undisturbed and deeply focused on her crocheting. It seems like she stopped listening to our conversation a while ago.
Maria and Anastasia too. They are back to playing catch... or some other game involving pulling each other's hair. I don't know when that happened. Their game soon turns into a fight when Nastasia pulls too hard and Masha starts screaming and crying.
"I think you will have to ask your father", Miss Eagar stands up in order to intervene. "He may give you a better answer than I ever will."
I want to ask him why he doesn't stop it. If he can get the Japanese to nurse our imprisoned soldiers, why can't he make them stop killing us in the first place so that we can also stop killing their soldiers?
Maybe papa wasn't just trying to make me feel better when he said his job is harder than it seems.
A sudden rush of pity for both my father and my unborn baby brother catches me by surprise. I would have never felt like this moments ago, and yet none of my sisters notice. Maybe it is because I am the oldest.
Maybe being the oldest isn't just about privileges... or even responsibilities, as mama says. I don't think someone as innocent as Masha would handle understanding what I now understand. Maybe, at least for me, being the oldest simply means being alone in the knowledge.
I don't know anymore. All I know is I will probably never be pleased to hear of the deaths of the Japanese, or any other group of people, ever again.
The part about Olga being resentful/jealous about the new baby is all fictional, and based on the book "The Shaken Throne" by Kathleen McKenna Hewtson. I thought it fitted Olga's "being in favor of all the eldest characters" way of seeing things as a little girl.
I have also wondered if a girl as smart as Olga would have noticed or been affected by the apparent unfairness and sexism of the Pauline Laws, and how she would have reacted as a child. We can't know if she actually had an issue with it as there is absolutely no evidence she even felt curious about it, but it is interesting to speculate. By all accounts the girls, including Olga (Especially her actually, as it appears in some very endearing pictures) were happy when their baby brother was born and loved him very much (But we will get to that in a later chapter, and besides, Olga is only 8 here).
The scene where Maria slaps the picture of the Japanese children and then Olga learns about them is actually based on two separate instances during the war, but I combined them for lazinesss sake (Sorry not sorry). They were also part of the same theme, so I think they fitted well together.
Thanks to the guest who commented!