Diary of a Wimpy Czarovitch
Page 9
it. Has a great magician enchanted the scenery and put us all under his magic spell? It’s too cold to swim, but Papa braves the cold water anyway and swims out alone. My sisters and I bravely dip our toes in, but don’t go near the water. No wonder, Papa is the czar. He’s braver than any of his soldiers and kinder, too.
Tennis lessons have begun for my sisters, and horse back lessons as well as table tennis lessons have begun for me. Why is Deverenko only allowing me to ride a flea bitten old nag? The future Czar must certainly learn how to manage a steed with at least a little spirit. Papa is very competitive with his tennis and implores Mama to play a few matches with him, but she politely refuses stating that her tennis days are over. She prefers sitting under the shade of a large white umbrella gossiping with Auntie Annya and her sisters-in-law.
Papa lobs a few balls to me and I make Deverenko chase them for me. Nagorny is a better sport and Deverenko walks off in a huff stating: “I am not your gofer, Alexei!” I can hardly wait for my cousins to arrive so that I will have someone fun to play with. Adults over thirty have no sense of humor or much imagination.
31 March 1914 continued – Palm Sunday, today Christ entered Jerusalem riding a pure white, unblemished donkey. I wonder if he was as gentle and well behaved as my own donkey? Later this week, I will lay some palm fronds down and envision myself as a great leader riding bareback on a donkey over the branches for future reference. I shall not tell Mama or she probably won’t let me thinking that I am being sacrilegious. I shall do it when she is praying to the Icons in her private chapel. Tatiana and Papa go with her and sometimes she tries to make me go with her, but I say that I am too tired. Occasionally, my disease works towards my benefit.
Is this wicked? I’m not lying, because I am often too tired to pray as long as my devout Mama does. I am saving egg shells to use in a mosaic. Auntie Olga gave me the idea. I shall color the small pieces with my water colors and create a masterpiece of my own. When I grow up, I shall be as good an artist as Olga and Mama who designs her own gowns and those of my sisters. Papa doesn’t care much for painting, but he does like snapping his photographs and is quite an accomplished photographer. We all are.
Mama is growing some grass seed in baskets of peat moss for us to lay our Easter eggs in. We shall have actual new grown grass instead of shredded paper grass to deposit our Easter eggs in. Mama read about this in one of her magazines which she delights in reading. Clever Mama!. My Ukrainian painted eggs for Mama and Papa turned out rather well and I didn’t smear the black ink; I’m proud of them. Even Anastasia’s eggs turned out better than she thought they would, thanks to Auntie Olga who over saw the delicate project and our renderings in the fascinating medium. –
Much later – The Sunday service was spectacular. Our Archbishop was dressed in ornate costly robes and the smell of incense filled the church. Hundreds of scented candles lit the church. I was overwhelmed and proud to be of the Russian Orthodox faith. My cousins and I didn’t stir or make a peep during the ceremony and tears fell freely from Mama’s beautiful eyes. I felt full of the Holy Spirit. Was I possessed? I felt the presence of my ancestors hovering overhead in the hallowed dome. Papa looked handsome in his new uniform and so did I. I managed to keep clean throughout the day by playing quiet mind games with my male cousins and Anastasia taught to us by our tutors. Coloring with my new art pencils which Auntie Olga gave me made time pass quickly. Mama was pleased with my caricatures of Papa Czar, my sisters and my Romanov relatives.
"Alexei," she cautioned me: "Do not show these to Grandmama; I made that mistake once. She was not pleased with my humorous artwork. Somehow they fell into the wrong hands and appeared in the newspapers the next month which caused quite a stir among the Russian nobility. My son must not make the same mistake as I did." Why would Grandmama have done that? How have her hidden actions impacted on the dynasty? There is much I do not understand about the family dynamics. Grandmama never had a mother-in-law to deal with, let alone an interfering one like Mama has to suffer and put up with.
I've put the caricatures in my photo album for safe keeping. If I wasn't destined to be Czar, I would like to be an illustrator or an artist, but I was born to be the Czar, but I still like to have my dreams. According to Mama, Papa and Grandmama, there is no way to give up my responsibilities. Will I be a good ruler? Controversial Anastasia, who has ears like a bat which miss nothing, told me that Papa is sometimes called "Bloody Nicholas" by the people. I asked Nagorny if this was true and he did not deny it.
Mama’s Easter dress which she designed is spectacular with broderie anglaise on the white bodice and on the white skirt. Her personal embroideress must have worked for weeks on the lavish embroidery. My sisters dresses are a pale green, the color of celery called celadon and mama says that OTMA appeared as delicate and breakable as fine porcelain in their pastel spring finery with their tiny pleats cascading like miniature water falls down the front of their skirts. Thank Heavens Papa and I don’t have to wear pale pastel colors unless we want to do so. Mama was considering having both of us wear white suits and celadon colored bowties, but papa convinced her that would not be wise nor very Russian since then we'd look like plantation owners from the American South. What would black Jim think of this?
Grandmama dear’s dress was lovely and was a duplicate of her sister Queen Alexandra’s dress. The British Queen was still in London. However they exchanged pictures of each other wearing identical gowns and sent telegraphed comments of the reactions of their courts to their new gowns via the telegraph. Aren't modern inventions marvelous? They delight in wearing identical outfits as if they were twin sisters. Mama calls them the "sin twisters" under her breath, but I heard what she'd said. I wish that I had a brother. I wouldn't mind wear a matching outfit with him; perhaps if I wish hard enough, my wish will come true, but Mama says her child bearing days are over.
Everyone is wearing new Easter shoes for the occasion. Papa and I have new brown leather boots with ornate military buckles. No doubt, we'll polish up nicely for Easter- like two shiny American pennies in our matching new military uniforms. Antie Anya complimented Papa until he blushed profusely through his beard causing his blue eyes to appear bluer. Mama didn't seem to mind a bit since she doesn't have a jealous bone in her body. Everyone knows that Auntie Anya is in love with my handsome Papa.
Shura, our ladies maid, helped my sisters with their gowns so that they fit perfectly and has made one for herself. I think M.Gilliard is sweet on her. Romance is in the air. I caught him gazing at her as if he was a sick puppy with his pink tongue hanging out. Will I ever make such a fool of myself I wonder? Perhaps I shall write a poem about it during my composition times in order to tease him and blackmail him into easing a few of my language assignments. Does spring render one susceptible to cupid’s arrows? I’ll have to ask Anastasia’s opinion on the matter, she’s not quite as foolish about love yet; my other sisters are head over heels in love with the idea of being in love.
Rumor has it that Prince Edward, Prince of Wales, is in love with several married women. Olga, is glad that the prince was not smitten with her charms when the subject of matrimony was broached in recent months. She thinks she escaped a fate worse than death. Now she must throw Prince Carol off her scent. Olga never plans on leaving Russia. I don’t blame her, I couldn’t either. I am a true Russian, body and soul, just like she is and would not be happy anywhere else.
1 April 1914, 14 April 1914 – Today is the special day when we like to play tricks on each other. Anastasia has tied papa’s best shoes together in elaborate knots. Papa is unlikely to be amused. She’s also urged me to put salt in the sugar shakers knowing that Mama will never discipline me when she puts it in her tea. I did and laughed when Mama and Papa both spit out the disgustin liquid in their napkins and winked at them saying: “April Fools!” Anastasia and I short sheeted Marie’s bed and put onion juice in Olga and Tatiana’s tooth powder. What are younger brothers for
anyway? We sent a letter to Olga from Prince Carol sealed ornately with wax stating that he was in love with another Rumanian, a peasant girl from the country, but that he would do his duty and marry her anyway. She was not amused.
We sent her a love letter from Dmitry heavily scented with his cologne, a spicy toilet water which Monsieur G. also wears. I purloined a drop or two from his scent bottle when I was doing my math lessons one morning. The epistle stated that he was taking a grand tour in America and wouldn't be back for a year. Anastasia and I both felt positively wicked when she read the love letter and tears filled her eyes. Then she picked up the faux letter from Prince Carol and reconsidered it-- holding it to her bosom before she threw it in the fire. Perhaps she likes Prince Carol a little after all; he's handsome enough. Maybe we’re both impisches. Then we both shouted in a duet: "April Fools! Even Mama and Auntie Annya laughed at our antics, but Olga has stopped speaking to us until she has her revenge which I no doubt expect to come within the week. Olga is not as longsuffering as I am.
Papa did not care for the limburger