by JG Hampton
families and she loves the miniatures and trains as much as I do, even if she does not admit it. Mama has quite an enchanting collection of miniatures given to her by Papa since she admired Grandmama's collection so much. Our collection is not made by Monsieur Faberge and is only made of paper, but the figures are priceless to Anastasia and me.
Later in the afternoon the two of us played our first piano duet. I can actually sight read the music now, but my fingers are not as nimble as Anastasia's whose fingers simply race up the keys. My youngest sister has an amazing memory and memorizes sheet music after a few practices, but Mama thinks I have a better ear. Anastasia finished the duet before I did and Mama was not pleased so we had to do it once more with the metronome beating.
10 June 1914, 23 July 1914 - We're headed towards the farm (Peterhoff) which is what we always call the smaller palace near the Baltic sea. Papa has come here every year since he was a little boy. Here the sea is too cold for swimming and we never stay at the magnificent palace which is loaded with art treasures which was built to rival Versailles in France. Mama says it is too much like a museum for her tastes. Papa has occasionally used the palace for state functions to impress visiting heads of state. I think it's rather strange that we seldom use the most superb places like the Winter Palace, the blue and white Catherine Palace and the grand palace at Peterhoff, but prefer the cozier, smaller palaces to live in. Mama says that we are all country bumpkins at heart, especially Papa.
12 June 1914, 23 July 1914 - We've arrived at Peterhoff and I'm hiding out in the summer house where Mama and Papa scratched their initials in the glass with a diamond surrounded by a heart, the summer they first met. I trace the outline with my fingers and hide from my older sisters while I look out the window to see if the coast is clear. A silver biplane drones overhead. Aviation is spreading even here in Papa's dominion. How long must I wait here until the older pairs tempers cool? Luckily, I grabbed my diary so that I'm not stuck in here with nothing to do. I'm catching up on my writing.
My curiosity overcame me while my sisters were unpacking their trunks and when they were at their French lessons, I sampled all of their perfumes and unfortunately left some of the lids off of the perfume bottles. Tatiana's garter belt was out on her bed and I just had to find out how those metal contraptions on the end held up her silk stockings. I thought it would make a great parachute if I folded over the top and pinned it. Using one of her embroidered handkerchiefs I made a parachute and attached it to the garters. It worked just as planned when I dropped it out of the window, but the contraption fell in a dirty puddle of water. My older sisters were not amused and confiscated my best model sail boat as damages.
"A pesky little brother must not meddle in their older sisters things even if he is destined to be the next czar. Is nothing private or sacred? Underwear and expensive perfume are off limits." yelled Olga loud enough that Mama heard her. I'm not afraid of Mama because I know that I'm her darling boysy, but Tatiana and Olga together can be a bit intimidating if they choose to gang up on me like they're doing now. What's a boy to do? Mama has always expected Olga to control and discipline me and she does. I stayed here for a few hours until the coast was clear. Anastasia fetched me knowing just where to look and I was not sent to bed without my tea and sandwiches although I have lost the pleasure of performing in one of their next plays and there bedroom is now off limits. Surprisingly Anastasia and Marie intervened on my behalf. Anastasia's own foibles have often gotten her into trouble with the older pair who always stick together.
13 June 1914, 26 July 1914 - Papa and Mama have attended a dinner for the Prime Minister of France. Mama wore her most magnificent gown and most elaborate necklace which really makes her look regal and imperious. I told her that I was praying for her.
"In that case, Alexei, I have nothing to worry about. I'll be a success tonight because the saints listen to the prayers of innocents." Mama always succeeds when she's performing for Russia. She knows how to do her duty even if Grandmama thinks otherwise.
14 June 1914, 27 July 1914, The military review was spectacular, but I have always loved parades. I rode with Mama who was dressed in white and wore a broad hat in an open carriage behind my Papa who was seated on his large white stallion. Papa and I dressed in identical red military jackets and black helmets and my uncles and other military officers on horses escorted our carriage. The crowd cheered as we passed. I have never felt so noble before. I am a Romanov, son of the Czar of all the Russias.
As Papa passed down the middle of the plaza hundreds cheered him and a new sensation flooded my soul. Papa was no longer Papa, he had been transformed into a demigod. He was the soul and embodiment of Holy Russia. The masses of people filled the side of the road and all cheered the czar. The noise was overwhelming. Peasants, noblemen, and soldiers alike, all were applauding my father who is God's representative on earth. I will never feel the same towards my father again. Did Papa sense this feeling when his own Papa he rode in these parades, or was I the first czarovitch to experience this sensation? When I was born, Papa made all of the military men, my godfathers and they swore allegiance to me at my birth. This power, this mystical reverence will pass onto me when I become czar.
As the yellow sun sunk in the west, I was reminded of Apollo driving his chariot behind the sun across the sky. Purple and pink made the twilight air shimmer and magic suffused the air. Hundreds of military men began singing and chanting the Evening Hymn in a low, deep cadence, then the orchestra joined in, then thousands of Russian's voices added to the chanting; only providence and the Holy Spirit could have orchestrated something so magisterial. I will never be the same.
1 July 1914, 14 August 1914 - War has been declared; what Papa dreaded has come to pass. I've never seen my father's face so white as when he received the telegram.
His treacherous cousin Willy had lied to him. Kaiser Wilhelm was a war monger after all. Mama had been right about him all along. Papa looked as if the very life blood had drained from him. All my sisters started crying and so did my Mama when Papa made his speech.
Trouble comes in loads. Just a few days ago we'd received word that Father Grigory had been stabbed and his life was hanging by a thread. The attack on Father Grigory had occurred almost the same time as the attack on the Austrian Archduke. This double shock sent my staid mother and I reeling. Father Grigory must not die.
Mama sent a gold watch to the doctor treating our peasant in hopes that his life would be saved. Mama and my sister prayed for his survival vocally. What would I do without his mysterious touch and his prayers?
Papa and Mama went out on the balcony of the Winter Palace and it was as if we were surrounded by all of Russia. A sea of faces shouted back their support for the czar. Surely the world war would end quickly with a victory for Russia now that we had entered the conflict. Mama was strengthened as she usually was when Papa needed her. All of Russia as well as Papa required her power and energetically she supplied it as if she herself were a sun. The czarina turned the Catherine Palace into a hospital along with other mansions and she began taking courses in nursing with my two eldest sisters, Auntie Annya and Auntie Olga. Anastasia and I were simply dumbfounded; where had our sick mother gone? Who was this strong woman that we scarcely recognized?
21 August 1914, 13 September 1914 -( Alexander Palace) Grandmama Dear wrote a caustic letter to us and it's content was clear she hasn't changed her opinion since she visited us at Peterhoff in June. I have never seen her so angry. My sisters and I cowered in the background and we listened to her condemn Papa for even thinking of taking charge of the military. She screamed at him that his military advisors would assume that Father Grigory had urged him to take charge and was guiding him as if he were a puppet . Papa said little but adamantly refused to back down. I watched him carefully and saw that his left eye was twitching wildly while his Mama vented at him. Would my mother ever act in this startling manner when I became czar?
Nevertheless, despite her strong opinion on the subject, Papa s
tood up to my Grandmama saying that he intended on taking control of the military. It was his divine right. He no longer trusted Uncle Nickolasha's judgment and thought he could make better decisions.
"But Nicky, you haven't developed any military strategies or gone to military school; when have you served in the military?" Fingering her false bangs which her tirade had loosened from her forehead, she pinned them on tighter with a pearl hatpin so it would not slip further.
"Have the two of you lost your minds or are both of you bewitched?" yelled the small fury giving my poor Mama a withering glance. Grandmama stormed out of the palace leaving us all bobbing about like small boats caught in her wake. Her last words were: "Don't say I didn't warn you, Nicky." Grandmama must have been a formidable force against my tall grandpapa Czar Alexander. She was just like a summer thunderstorm with her eyes flashing like lightening and now I knew where my sisters got their tempers.
6 September 1914, 21 September 1914 - Papa writes us long letters from Mogilev where he leads his military officers. Mama is so proud of him. She's convinced that he will be the next Genghis Khan, but I miss him
