by JG Hampton
all of those pearls. Tatiana has one of diamonds. Olga had worn it for the first time with an exquisite pale pink gown at the ball Mama and Papa had given her when she'd turned eighteen and then again at Grandmama's ball this year. Papa had lovingly attached the finished necklace around her neck and both had hugged each other.
"Papa," she had asked, "does this mean that I'm now a woman in your eyes?"
She makes me feel rather ashamed. I felt generous when I donated a month of my allowance to the poor this year. How am I to compete with my noble sister? I'm ashamed to say that I am not able to make such a sacrifice. I could never give up my model trains, my model yaughts, my blinis, my uniforms, my pets, stuffed animals, my art supplies or shamefully even my pillow. Was Olga just trying to please Papa and Mama or does she really love Russia that much?
Olga had to stop her nursing duties because she's lost too much weight and Dr. Botkin insisted as did Grandmama who never approved of her menial activities in the first place. How will her being sick and anemic looking help her get married or benefit Russia? Apparently the same thing has happened to Mama. Papa said their sacrifice is like throwing out the baby with the bathwater and they are not looking at the entire picture. Now Papa is worried about them and this has added to his other worries. He is growing older and is grayer in his beard and hair except for the yellow stain of nicotine.
21 September, 1914, 3 October 1914 - Telegrams came in from Petrograd that there are many strikes because of the high prices of meat and flour. I'm glad that we are far from the city and that we don't have to see the disturbances. Grandmama wrote that she is learning to stretch one chicken into at least four meals. That hardly compares with Olga's sacrifice, but for my extravagant Grandmama, it is nonetheless a sacrifice. First she serves the chicken as a dinner, then makes chicken casserole, then chicken salad and then uses the bones and legs for soup. Of course, her French cook is the one preparing the meals, not Grandmama. Things must be bad if Grandmama is economizing at her palaces and mansions. She isn't one inclined to be frugal. Perhaps that is her sacrifice for mother Russia. I hope that is the worst of it. Grandmama writes that it is also difficult for her to get new gowns. Papa laughs and wonders which of her many couturiers are struggling, are they the ones in Paris, St. Petersburg, Milan, New York, Rome or London?
"Heaven forbid that my persnickety mother would have to wear a gown twice or even more appalling, for two consecutive seasons. Now that would really be a tragedy. I know personally that she has a roomful of gowns so I'm not too concerned that she's lacking." I laughed out loud because I remembered hiding myself in one of those rooms containing her gowns when I visited Grandmama with my sisters when I was younger. It looked like her own private rainbow only made from silks, gauzes, and satins.
I've heard that there is a shortage of soap and have volunteered to stop bathing. Papa said that Mama would not be pleased to hear that and that would be too great a sacrifice for Russia. Laughing heartily, he said: "Alexei, I'm so glad that you're here with me. You're my bright sun in a dark sky."
Still, I can't forget the empty look in that boy's eyes that I saw at the train station. There was actual want in his eyes. His gaunt face haunts me in my dreams. Now because of him, I eat what ever is served me.
Papa and I wrote my Grandmother a letter suggesting that perhaps she should go meatless once a week or switch to goat's meat or become a vegetarian like Mama. I thought this was very funny since I can't even imagine my finicky Grandmama eating goats' meat or vegetables only. Of course Papa drew a smiley face in the margin indicating that we were both kidding.
Papa and I are going to watch movies tonight. Here we are at Mogilev, military headquarters, but ironically the war seems far away.
1 October, 1914, 13 October 1914 - I take pictures with my Kodak camera and so does Papa. He has helped me set up a dark room in one of the closets so that I can develop our pictures. I use my camera as if it was a gun shooting pictures rather than bullets and have taken many photos of wounded officers and German prisoners of war to send home to their loved ones. A top secret dispatch arrived for Papa stating that there is a spy at headquarters. I wonder who it is? I suspect one of the generals with a German sounding name. Some critics think that Mama is a spy giving Uncle Ernie important information about the military situation. Papa and I both laugh about this. If only our Russian people knew how much Mama loved Russia and could witness her dedication to continually combating poverty. She has spent her adult life doing needlework which she sells to benefit the poor of the land when she was not breastfeeding or giving birth to children. Madame Energy, as she is called by one of our wise ministers, is seldom without a needle of some kind in her hand.
2 October 1914, 14 October 1914 - Every afternoon Papa and I either go for a walk or ride our horses. If I'm too tired, Nagorny attaches my white pony to a cart and Papa jogs alongside me. I haven't had a bleeding spell since my last baby tooth came out, but luckily the bleeding was mild and that stage of my life has finally ended. Hurrah!
In the past, because of my bleeding disease, every loose tooth caused me fear. Papa says that he'll give me the order of St. Michael for bravery like he gave Mama when I reach the age of seventeen. But what will strangers think learning that I've been given the honor for braving the extraction of my milk teeth and bearing up because of a hernia operation? Will they wonder if he's not a bit touched in the head? Both of us laugh about this, but few people understand how grave my situation really is. At least my extended family now knows about my bleeding disease. It is no longer the great secret it once was.
As Father Grigory predicts, if I live to be seventeen, I'll be healed; I pray that my luck continues to hold and I trust in providence that it will for my sake as well as Mama's and for Russia. I love being here alone with Papa and I do want to be czar when the time comes. I am looking forward to when I am seventeen which is in less than five years.
15 October 1914, 28 October 1914 - A military aide and I took Papa's pistol and went out into one of the orchards and practiced shooting the withered apples which still remained on the tops of the branches. I am becoming a talented marksman. My blue eyes are sharp and I rarely miss my target. I shot a large black crow and brought it back to show my father. He told me about his days of hunting with his Papa and his brothers Michael and Georgy. How his gruff big bear like father loved hunting, but he always insisted on giving the excess meat to the poor. Nothing was wasted.
"Should I send my dead crow to grandmother to put in her soup pot?" I asked him. Papa laughed heartily at this suggestion of mine.
17 October 1914, 29 October 1914 - Papa and I had a shooting contest. On old newspaper, we drew the form of a man and in red pencil I made a large heart. Papa let me shoot first with his pistol. I hit his heart several times with bullets. Then so did Papa. Counting to three, we blew off his head. Papa was pleased with my ability with his handgun and his rifle. My shoulder hurt because of the kick from the rifle and my ears rang from the loud sound of the reports from the firearms. "Alexei, I hope this war will be over before you really have to shoot at the enemy. I have the war dead from two wars on my conscience now and I hope that your reign will be a season of peace. This ruthless slaughter of Russians must be stopped. Life is precious."
Anastasia will be so envious when I tell her about it.
20 October 1914, 30 October 1914 - Today I received a brightly decorated envelope containing some funny photographs from my sister Anastasia. Quickly I gazed at them like a thirsty man arriving at an oasis finding water. Finally my stubborn sister Anastasia had decided to write me. Enclosed in the dispatch from Alexander's Palace was a picture of her with a large goose egg on her nose. Had she actually blown it out the way we do our Easter eggs so that she could wear it? I've heard of having a large beak for a nose, but never a goose egg for one. How absurd she looked. I shall definitely save this to use as blackmail in the future. I have actually missed her and her antics. I am a little homesick for all of my sisters and Mama which is
something I thought would never happen, neither would I admit it to anyone but I have recorded it here in my diary. It's true: absence does make the heart grow fonder just like Mama always said.
There was a picture of my previously plump Bow Wow, alongside several wounded soldiers. Sixteen year old Marie was wearing her heart clearly on her sleeve, but I could tell she was in seventh heaven being surrounded by handsome men since she had the loveliest smile on her face. It is obvious that her volunteerism and the privations of war have slimmed down her figure. Were all the men in love with her? She is quite the beauty; I will never call her Bow Wow again. Papa whistled when he saw the picture. Perhaps she really will have fifteen children like she wrote in her diary since she acts like a love magnet drawing men to her.
"Marie is going to be married before Olga at this rate. Olga may actually be a spinster if she continues to insist on remaining in Russia, Alexei. What do you think?" he asked. I merely shrugged my shoulders but wonder if Papa is a prophet like my staretz?
"May you only sire sons, Boysy, and not temperamental daughters. Yet, how I miss them all, especially hot headed Olga."
