Diary of a Wimpy Czarovitch
Page 8
I compare my train with my own toy train which is an exact replica. The nine cars easily accommodate our entourage of servants. The black locomotive puffs out smoke into the air. Is this how clouds are made? Are they the remnants of volcanoes? I’ll have to ask one of my tutors.
Initially, I shall ride with my Mama because Papa will be bogged down with his papers and I would find that too boring. My man servant Derevenko will take turns with Nagorny and spell off my mother and sisters. My mother has a few surprises that’s she’s packed to keep me entertained and out of her hair and out of harm's way. Of course our animals are coming along. My other relatives will be along later. The yearly migration of Russia's aristocracy to the Crimea has begun and all of us are more than ready for fun in the sun.
26 March 1914, 8 April 1914 – Father Grigory came and blessed all of us before we leave for Livadia. Mama and I were especially glad to feel his soothing hands. Whenever he touches me or stares in my eyes, it is almost as if he is sucking the bad vapors out of my system. I wonder if Mama can feel this, too. Auntie Annya can and knows that he is a saint because he saved her life after a tragic accident where she almost died. Perhaps he really is saintly, only it's hard to believe from his sexual proclivities.-Mama fired one governess who said that he was trying to seduce my sisters who aren't attracted to the bizarre married staretz in the least when compared to the handsome officers in the Russian army and navy; only time will tell. If his body never becomes corrupt after his death, I’ll have the church canonize him. Will I have the guts to look in his crypt or dig him up and look at his alarming old face when he's dead since he looks so alarming in life? The thought is the stuff of nightmares. His messy beard and hair looks as if birds have built their nests within. Perhaps I will delegate this task to one of my ministers when I am czar.
27 March 1914, 9 April 1914 – We boarded one of the two imperial trains and are slowly chugging along the countryside to the Crimea. I am riding with my Mama who gave me a gift to open when I am outside of St. Petersburg. Mama likes to spoil and surprise me. She calls Papa and me both “Boysy.”
Inside the package is a dart board which I can use to entertain myself with while we travel through the countryside. I place the large cork board across the train on the wall of the coach car and practice throwing the darts. The metal darts have colorful feathers which were made and sent to me from someone in Siberia using real bird feathers made from exotic birds.
Derevenko, and I will share a room in the train. In some ways our imperial train is fancier than the rooms in our palace home and so are some of the rooms on our yaught, the Standart which is much nicer than Grandmama’s yaught. The weather is still freezing outside and I can hardly wait to arrive at the warmer climate at Livadia. Will I ever be truly warm again?
Anastasia came in to see what Mama had given me and wanted to play. I let her have ten tries first. She could barely hit the board, let alone the bull’s eye center. One stuck in the upholstered coach chair. Derevenko, one of my sailor nursemaids, took cover in another car. What a relief- out of sight, out of mind; sometimes I grow weary of his toadying. I am quite a good shot and will no doubt be able to outshoot Papa and Uncle Xandro soon. Both have their own dart boards and are experts at the game, but they like to drink vodka before they aim at their boards and since I’m not allowed to drink the stuff, I’ll easily win. Mama likes to give me things that I can conquer easily so that I do not feel handicapped. She thinks this will build my confidence. She’s right about this. It takes my mind off the things that I cannot do easily like run like the wind.
28 March 1914, 10 April 1914 – Papa has brought a new toy gun for me and I pretend to look out the window and shoot any animals that I see roaming the terrain. He told me how one of his uncles went to America and shot buffalo from his train while he was visiting in the wild west. My gun has a telescopic lens and makes a loud “pop” which is disconcerting to Mama and my sisters, but Papa’s certain that it will help me to become a good shot like he is. It is one of my favorite toys and soon Papa will allow me to go shooting with him at our hunting lodge using a real gun, if I can stay healthy long enough. I may kill my first deer and be blooded. I shall try not to bruise myself and start the nefarious bleeding process. Papa wants me to be able to use guns so that I can defend myself if necessary and lead out in battle like a fierce warrior.
Baroness Buxhoeveden who has grown relatives and nephews in the military thinks this is a wise thing to do, especially in this time of revolution, war and anarchy. One never knows what the war mongering Prussians are up to and being forearmed is being forewarned as far as Kaiser Wilhelm is concerned. From the Baroness I’ve learned that Papa’s war with the Japanese did not go well. Ironically, the man who charged up San Juan Hill, President Theodore Roosevelt helped mediate the situation between the two countries and earned a Nobel peace prize. She thinks that war is in the cards with the Prussians and simply does not trust the provocative Germans; no one should.
Mama is afraid it will turn me into a war hawk, like her cousin, Kaiser Willy and other Prussians whom she doesn’t like or trust. “Nonsense, Alix, everyone has enemies and we must prepare our sons to be able to boldly confront them.” said the Baroness one afternoon. Now I actually am beginning to like Baroness Buxhoeveden; in the past I always thought she was an annoying large nosed busy body, but she’s a wise old aristocrat who was married to a husband who loved blood sports just like Papa and my uncles. She thinks powerful people should be able to defend themselves, as well as kill animals and so do I.
29 March 1914, 11 April 1914 – We are crossing the Steppes of the Ukraine and the area looks dry and desolate. I would not want to be alone out here. I see many four legged animals and strange birds and I continue to shoot at them. Mama has limited my shooting time to two hours in the afternoon and she has stuffed cotton from her vials of nitroglycerin tablets in her ears. Baroness Buxhoeveden and Auntie Annya migrate to another coach when I begin my practice shooting. Mama limits my practice time by saying that my two doctors insist that I soak in the spill proof tub before tea time so that my leg will not become any stiffer. I don’t complain as I find the tub fascinating and I try to make it spill its contents, by moving around wildly whenever the train tracks curve, but I am unable to spill water. Whoever invented the spill proof rim is a genius or at least a cunning inventor. Was it my own smart Mama or grandmother dear? Mama is always reading about the latest scientific studies and my intelligent Grandmama is very practical. I’m very curious to know. If I find out, perhaps I shall give them a gold medal designed by Faberge when I am czar.
The temperature is getting warmer, Papa has noted the thermometer readings carefully and has recorded them each day in his own diary. We will soon be to the Crimea. He and Mama and I have played many card games together and I have outwitted them several times in Baccarat and Bridge. At least, I don’t think they are letting me win. Papa and I have had some intense chess games with my miniature chess board made from exotic woods. He is not easy to win, unlike Nagorny and my other nursemaid, Derevenko stanko.
30 March 1914, 12 April 1914 – We are finally here. The air is so sunny that Mama and I must cover our blue eyes with our hands because of the brilliant light. Mama and Baroness Buxhoeveden don their large brimmed straw hats and so do my sisters. Papa and I put on our hunting caps and squint in the brightness of the sky. There is not a cloud in sight. The dazzling sunlight is so cheering that our winter pallor will soon disappear. Mama tells my four sisters to wear their hats in order to save their precious white complexions.
Independent Anastasia, naturally, ignores this advice and wears hers dangling down her back having tied the ribbons loosely together. She likes being as brown as a nut and thinks she looks prettier toasted by the sun with the tendrils of her hair bleaching out blonde. She’s hoping that Papa and Mama will give their daughters a ball like the one they previously gave Olga when she turned sixteen. She’s practicing Scottish scho
ttishes, quadrilles and even the Highland fling along with the Mazurka that Mama taught her hoping that they will acquiesce to her demands.
Watching Anastasia do the tango is something to behold. I can hardly imagine anything less romantic that partnering her in a tango. It’s like dancing with my pet donkey. She doesn’t want Papa and the others to out dance her and practices like crazy with Mama’s latest records and new phonograph. Sometimes I wish I could join in with her, but I can’t because of my gimp leg so I just take amusing pictures of her making a fool of herself with my Kodak camera. I have several photographs that I intend blackmailing her with in order to collect a huge ransom from her, perhaps even as much as half of her monthly allowance; they are very, very embarrassing. One in particular makes her look like a fat, smooth little troll. She will not be amused when she sees the photograph or the home movie I am splicing together.
31 March 1914, 13 April 1914 – The sea churns like a whirlpool below us, a malevolent dark cauldron, and is so lovely and mysterious by the light of a full moon; I am mesmerized by