Me, rollerskating

Just a quick note on a busy day! Here's me on the Standart making everybody rollerskate!

Alexei. Alyosha. Baby. The tsarevich.

My little brother, the only boy of all of us, was born three years after I was, and he is the darling of the family. Not just because he is ill—more about that in a moment—but because he is the most wonderful creature ever, with such a spirit, such insight...

I think his illness makes him more sensitive than most people. He cannot stand to see suffering in any creature, and cries when a guard kicks a dog or if he sees a bird with a broken wing.

When he is ill, everything stops in the house. Mama doesn't sleep, but stays by his side, only eating if Tatiana brings her something. We all creep in and sit with him. I play the balalaika for him if he can stand it. Sometimes he is curled up in pain, not even able to straighten out his legs because there is bleeding that makes his joints swell. We pray and pray, and so far, every time, he has gotten well again.

While he is recovering—then it's my job to cajole him into getting strong so he can get out of bed. The kitchen makes him all sorts of delicacies to taste, and we go in and eat anything he doesn't want, or even what he does, just to make him want it more. Normally we only eat at mealtimes, and we have the same thing over and over again. Mama once tried to change the menu for tea and it caused such an uproar she gave up in the end.

My little brother is a blessing. But he is also spoiled. When he was very small Mama let him do anything he wanted. Once at a state dinner, he crawled under the table and stole a lady's shoe. When Mama told him to give it back, he did—but with a big strawberry in the toe!

And then there was a time he ordered a whole regiment of guards (who must obey him because he is the tsarevich) to march into the sea. Their boots were ruined. What I've done is nothing like as mischievous, but we all forgive him, because he is the baby. Alyosha. Alexei. The tsarevich.

Now it's Marie's turn

Marie is my best friend, and the sweetest of my sisters. Mama and Papa call us "the little pair". Of course, Olga and Tatiana are "the big pair". Marie and I are never apart, but she is much nicer and calmer than I am. She doesn't torment our tutors or play nasty tricks, and she doesn't complain about wearing hand-me-downs.

My sister Marie is good at drawing. Perhaps that's because she has such big eyes! We tell each other stories when we go to bed at night. Mine are full of dragons and knights, and ancient legends. Hers are full of young officers passing secret messages to imprisoned princesses. I think she's going to fall in love soon.

I feel a little bad about Marie though. She's so wonderful and kind to me that she'll go along with anything I suggest, even when it gets her in trouble. I made her roller skate with me (and all the officers on the yacht too) on the deck of the Standart, Papa's yacht.

No picture of Marie can really capture who she was, but this is one of my favorites:

Tatiana

Oh, what to say about my sister Tatiana! She is my mother's favorite, perhaps because she looks most like her. She is very beautiful, and very capable. Tatiana always knows everything.

Once, when I was small, I threw a snowball at her. It wasn't an ordinary snowball. I thought I'd be funny and put a stone in the middle of it. I didn't know it would really hurt her. She had a concussion, but she was all right. I had to fetch her things for weeks afterwards. I didn't mind though, I felt so terrible.

Tatiana is always the one who organizes everything. When we used to have games together she was the one who picked the teams and decided the rules. Of course, I would always change them or ignore them and she'd get cross. But then I'd make her laugh.

This is Tatiana looking very spiritual:

We look like opposites. She has very dark hair, where mine is lighter. And she is very thin where I tend to be plump. (Mama says I'll grow out of it...)

Olga

I have three older sisters, but Olga is the one I want to talk about today. She's very grown-up. Olga is 18 now and Tatiana, who I'll talk about next, is 16. Tatiana came of age this year. This is what it means when we come of age: We have a huge party. And I mean HUGE! Papa said 3,000 people came to Olga's and almost as many to Tatiana's. Marie and I watched everyone come in and the grand promenade in the ballroom at the Winter Palace, but no one could see us because we were up above, looking down from a balcony. The diamonds and other jewels sparkled so that I could hardly watch for long.

We don't have many jewels ourselves, but we each get a diamond and pearl necklace when we come of age. Mama buys one jewel a year for each of us, so there's not too big a drain on the state funds, she says. She's very thrifty. I wear clothes that went through all three of my sisters, unlesss they're too tattered, or unless we're all dressed for a photograph and wearing the same thing.

Marie and I—well, it was my idea really—had some fun at Tatiana's ball. We dropped peas on the heads of people who passed underneath us in their finery. It was hilarious to see them look up, wondering what had happened. Trina caught us though, and we had to stop.

Anyway, this is Olga.

She's very lively and fun. Mama and Papa want her to marry soon, and they've been talking about suitors. Only one is coming to visit though, Prince Carol of Romania. Olga tells us all secretly that she doesn't want to get married, though, because that would mean she has to leave Russia.

Since she's come of age she wears long gowns and doesn't have to do lessons. That's what I'm looking forward to, but it's still four years away for me. Boring!

Rasputin and my bedroom

Now you mustn't be horrified! I just had both of those subjects to talk about. First the easy one: I wanted to show you a picture of my bedroom, the one I share with Marie, at Tsarskoe. But I never took any myself—rooms are terribly difficult to photograph. Here I have a painting that was done, and a photograph from when Marie and I were both infants. You can see the bassinettes.

I liked our room. We had all our things, and although we shared, you can see there were screens for privacy.

Now, Father Grigory was never in our room, although people have said some awful things about him. He is a holy man, a starets. He's not a priest, but he is very wise, and Mama says she can see God in his eyes. God is very important to Mama, even though she was brought up a Lutheran. She converted before she married Papa, and no one is more devout than she is.

I love God too, but I don't much like going to church. It's so long! I make up games and try to make Marie laugh. I get in trouble with Trina, our governess. Dear Trina, she is so patient with me.

But Father Grigory: here's what happened when Alexei was very sick, at our Polish estate in Spala. The doctors thought for sure he would die. His pain was horrible to see. He was all curled up in a ball of agony. We sat with him and prayed over him. The doctors tried this and that and nothing worked. Then Mama sent for Grigory Rasputin. He did not come because he was thousands of miles away, in his home in Siberia, but he sent the message that Mama should not let the doctors trouble Alexei, and he would get well.

She sent all the doctors away, and Alexei did get well. He has not been so bad since. So Mama thinks him a saint. I don't know what I think, except that he smells, and he has eyes that can be frightening. Here is a picture of Grigory. I didn't take it. I was afraid he'd break my camera!

You see what I mean about his eyes? They're a piercing blue, like the sky over the steppes.

Must go!