In our library we had some rare scrolls and texts. They had come from Egypt, Persia, Palestine, Sinai, and elsewhere. One of these was the famous Codex Sinaiticus, dating from the fourth century A.D., which was first discovered by the German scholar Tischendorff in a monastery on the Sinai peninsula. Great-grandfather, Alexander II, had acquired the manuscript; later, in 1862, he had it published. There were also very early Russian texts. All these were under lock and key but we could see them in the glass case. Father knew the history of each of these texts and versions. The children’s library was separate. On its shelves were Russian fables and stories, and there were translations from the Danish. We had some originals signed by Hans Christian Andersen.
Mother was reared and educated in England and Germany and distinguished herself in her studies. She, herself, was a philosopher and often discussed philosophy with her friends. She saw things the others could not see and sometimes connected religion with the writings of the great philosophers.
However, she was not a fanatic as many described her, but she could see and understand things the others did not. She was well informed on various subjects. She understood and reasoned the value and depth of her religion. Her and Father’s knowledge of history surpassed that of many historians and their vocabulary was powerfully rich.
When Mother was strong enough, we children joined her at luncheon or tea. In the winter she selected a sunny room where a folding table was used for the occasion. One of Mother’s rooms was decorated in her favorite color, mauve, and was cosy with matching brocades, curtains and upholstery. One wall was covered with a collection of icons which were gifts from different people. These were continually lighted by two lamps, one blue and one pink. Some of these icons were the most beautiful that Byzantine art could produce, others were very simple, but all were symbols to Mother and a means of remembering the donors. Mother loved every one of them, and was most appreciative when people presented her one of these religious treasures. Some of them she carried with her from Tsarskoe Selo to Alexandria and Livadia palaces and later to Tobolsk and Ekaterinburg. She wanted to have the most meaningful in her room. Others hung in one of the small rooms of the chapel together with some of her Bibles and a panagia. She also had some icons of great historic importance.
Icons of these types were made only by the Greeks, Russians, Serbians, Bulgarians, and Rumanians. No statues were permitted in our churches, since we discarded the pagan idols at the time of the adoption of the Greek orthodox religion. A lot of the best treasures in the country were looted during the revolution. Other gifts were hung in the long hall which ran the whole length of the palace including all kinds of plates and other objects of historical value which we had received during many trips in Russia and abroad.
We were shocked to see how frail Mother looked when she finally emerged from her convalescence. It was an effort for her to walk the length of the hall and she was wheeled to the lift which took her to Alexei’s room. She permitted him to come down to the music room and lie on the sofa, or to amuse himself in the library with his electric trains. He built villages, fountains, churches out of blocks. We girls read to him or engaged him in games to keep him occupied. I can still see my brother in the blue nightshirt which he wore after his bath when he came down every evening before retiring. Mother took his emaciated hand and they went upstairs to hear his prayers. She had a tendency to overdo, hoping no one would suspect how much these illnesses of Alexei took out of her. It is true that bulletins had been issued telling of the serious condition of the Tsarevich but the nature of the illness had never been revealed to the people—that would be admitting hopelessness. When Alexei and Mother were well enough to travel we went down to the Crimea where the change and rest were always refreshing to both.
These attacks of Alexei were hard on us. For one thing our education was disrupted. It was difficult for us to concentrate on anything other than our brother’s health. The shared sorrow welded us into a closer family and the realization of this brought a change in my life. Thoughts of self seemed empty; childish pleasures began to lose their charm. My life was now so bound up with the family that I could no longer be lighthearted and free as before.
Reluctantly I realized I was taming down, through sorrow, not discipline. My childhood pastime of painting took a more serious turn. I even attempted to write imaginary stories about animals. Mother was so pleased with my efforts she sent one of these stories to Aunt Irene saying, “See what our little Nastia has done.” I now took a greater interest in music and hoped that by working hard I might sing as well as Mother or play like Olga. I loved Olga for her true kinship and often kissed her hand for her understanding of us younger sisters.
A week or two was a long time for me to stick to anything. Again and again I would revert to my childhood spirit but each time with less of my former zest. My reputation of being a problem child persisted. People often asked, “Where does the little one, small in size, store so much, much energy? She has an endless supply of jokes and pranks.” Some enjoyed my humor as I could tell from the expression on their faces, and some did not.
Marie and I had all kinds of “properties” with which to carry out our practical jokes. We had a set of stuffed animals which we called our “Circus Kingdom.” We had a mechanical mouse, a yellow iridescent snake with a moving head and a red, sharp tongue, a snapping turtle which might tangle in a victim’s dress. Frightened, our victim would jump up on a sofa or chair while Marie and I pretended to be equally scared and put on an act with wide-open mouths.