Often, new attendants were warned to watch out for me and my pranks, but in the end they suffered. In all these activities I was the leader and most of the time in disgrace. Once Alexei sprinkled water over me saying, “You must have been born in a dry summer, your jokes have outgrown you.”
Perhaps my most effective toy for playing pranks was a large doll with brown phosphorescent eyes that shone in the dark. This mechanical doll, when wound, would open and close its eyes, making life-like, blinking motions. On one occasion, I wound my doll while Marie was watching at the bedroom door and, when we heard our victim coming, I left the doll on the floor facing the door. We then jumped into our beds and pretended we were asleep. The attendant, who had come to see if we were all right, saw this awful thing on the floor in the dark with its blinking eyes. Terrified she ran screaming into the hall and awakened everyone on the whole floor. After this a sign was put up on our playroom door which read, “Enter only by permission of Olga and Tatiana.” This was designed to prevent Marie, Alexei, and myself from entering the room at will.
In the face of recent family heartaches I was less and less proud of my reputation as a prankster.
VI
JUBILEE: 1913
The spring of 1913 marked the three hundredth anniversary of the Romanov dynasty. Celebrations began with a great jubilee in St. Petersburg. We arrived from Tsarskoe Selo a few days ahead of the festivities and took up our residence in the Winter Palace. On the first day we drove in open carriages through streets lined with troops to the Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan where a picturesque ceremony was held. It was a gray, cold and rainy day, in contrast to the brilliance that awaited us inside the Cathedral.
According to custom the Tsar entered first, followed by the Heir to the Crown. When Alexei appeared, it was not a strapping, healthy Tsarevich to whom all the Grand Dukes and dignitaries bowed, but a frail little boy of nine, carried in the arms of a Cossack. This was a sad moment for us. We had hoped Alexei would at least be well enough to walk but he had not recovered sufficiently from his recent illness. We stood under a canopy in the middle of the great church. Alexei sat in a chair. Mother worried about Alexei. She asked us to watch him also. Dr. Derevenko stood nearby. We sisters were dressed in white, as was Mother. She wore the blue ribbon of St. Andrew, the order studded with diamonds and rubies. We had the red ribbon of the order of St. Catherine with its dazzling star. Grandmother Marie stood with us, trim and regal as always, blazing with diamonds, rubies and emeralds. The elite of St. Petersburg were assembled here, a magnificent sight, with the high clergy in golden robes and elaborate mitres, and the high military dignitaries in uniforms embroidered in gold.
During the service a dove flew into the Cathedral and circled above our canopy. Afterwards friends told us they were afraid it would fly into the lighted candles and start a fire, but fortunately it flew out of the church through a door. Since the dove is an important symbol of peace in our religion, a representation of the Holy Ghost, we all wondered if this event had a special significance. (It is worthwhile mentioning that also during the coronation, Father said, “A pigeon flew during the ceremonies.” Later, in Ekaterinburg on the day of tragedy, while we were having our last walk in the yard, a pigeon flew over us three times and then dashed repeatedly against the window.) After the ceremony, in the afternoon, we were attired in national costumes, as were our guests. Mother was especially beautiful, in her high kokoshnik, with her white robe exquisitely embroidered in silver and long veil. In the evening she wore a tiara of Catherine II and a necklace of diamonds. It was valued at several million rubles. It was so heavy that she used it in all only a few times. Olga and Tatiana were attired in soft pink tulle gowns, Marie and I in white silk and lace.
Some evenings later a ball was held in the Winter Palace. It was the first official appearance for us two younger sisters, the first time we participated in such a grand affair. I remember how excitedly we looked forward to that occasion. Mother was indisposed that evening and, after a short while, suggested that we leave early and go to our rooms. Grandmother, however, took our side and asked Mother to let us stay longer, and promised that she would personally look after us. Mother burst into tears and said: “These women of St. Petersburg might talk about the girls, and Anastasia’s jokes might be misinterpreted.”
I was very unhappy that evening for fear that every move I might make or every word I might speak would be used against me. All the innocent joy was taken from me that gala night for fear of those women’s sharp tongues.
From St. Petersburg we proceeded by train to Moscow where the Jubilee continued. On this occasion Mother wore the crown jewels. She never cared for them after the unfortunate incident which occurred during her early married life. At that time Granny felt that she still was entitled to wear the crown jewels instead of the young Empress. In the underground vaults in the Winter Palace there was a section where Mother kept some of her personal jewels. Any time she wished to have them, she notified the court chamberlain, Count Benckendorff, who sent several responsible persons with papers to fetch the desired pieces which were then brought under guard to Mother.