“Greetings from shvibzik,”.

.

On the morning of July 19, 1918, in Ecktrenburg, Russia, at 49 Vosnesensky prospekt, a small leather suitcase was taken and put on a train. This suitcase was guarded by dozens of guards (men?) and eventually was placed in the basement of a museum. It was called the museum of the October Revolution. (I’ve known it as St. Basil’s cathedral). The suitcase was guarded and was thought to be so dangerous it could never be opened. In fact, in the typical Russian style, it officially didn’t exist. So there it remained in the basement corner of the museum of the October Revolution. There it stayed, almost forgotten for 75 years; until one day, the museum of the October revolution became St. Basil’s cathedral again, and a visitor stumbled upon this old weather-beaten suitcase and opened it. In there was a photo album,  inside the photo album, there was a small flower pressed between the pages. Pressed there between the pages as a memento of a past happy sunny day of springtime 90 years ago. It had been there so long and was so delicate, so fragile you can barely see the words on the page. I remember pressing that flower and putting it in my photo album, I put it there in 1913, and the comment on the page was “greetings from shvibzik,”..

On June 5, 1901, Monsieur Philippe promised my dad I would be a boy, and so my mother would walk around the palace twelve times every full moon when she was carrying me. Monsieur Philippe was sure this would happen, but the French man was wrong. To save face, he told mommy and daddy this was a special sign. I am, as you can see, a girl. The birth of a daughter instead of a son only proved the girl will have an unusual destiny.

I am Anastasia and I want to tell you an unusual story… my story. It’s a good Russian story, as long as winter and as beautiful and sad as all good stories are. They say the difference between a Russian comedy and a Russian tragedy is, a Russian comedy is sad but beautiful and a Russian tragedy is beautiful but sad. I like Russian stories, they are part myth, part truth, and it’s the hope of truth in them that makes you feel happy. Father tells me all good stories are Russian stories even when they are written by non-Russians. I like stories, don’t you? My sister Olga gave me her book “The Princess and The Goblin” about a beautiful princess and a evil goblin, a magic ring and the spirit of a great grandmother who watches and protects her. My father is like that. He is Tsar, that’s what Tsar means he is anointed by God to protect all the motherland of Holy Russia. Oh please excuse me, we haven’t been formally introduced. Mother was always saying: “Remember your manner’s shvibzik”. I am Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia, in Russian you would pronounce it Velikaya Knyazhna Anastasiya Nikolayevna Romanova, but that’s a mouthful so just call me “shvibzik,” I’m the youngest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, the Tsars of all the Russias of Imperial Russia, that’s my daddy. My mommy is  Alexandra Fyodorovna. I was named after Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia, not to be confused with Anastasia Romanovna, Grand Duchess Anastasia Mikhailovna of Russia, Anastasia Romanov, Countess de Torbay, or Princess Anastasia of Montenegro, all of which I am related to but I must confess I haven’t really met most of them, I am named after Grand Duchess Anastasia Mikhailovna of Russia who after attending my first name day, I never saw again, I learned later she had a terrible scandal, but mamma says there are scandalous people and they are not appropriate for young grand duchesses, then I would respond: “But mamma isn’t she a grand duchess?”; wherein mamma would get all red in the face and send me to my room. I didn’t mean to upset mamma, it’s just that there is so much to know and so much to learn. I want to travel to see things; I want to paint, to take pictures with a camera. I never seem to see more than my family or the inner imperial guards. Don’t get me wrong I love my sisters and my father. I share a room with my sister Maria. Olga and Tatiana are in the room next door Maria and I put birds made up of Cray paper on the ceiling when the wind catches them the look like they fly in the wind,  I mostly play with Maria. We go to the tree fort. It’s on an island in the middle of a lake by the house. We have a doll house there and we dress our dolls and serve them tea. Maria likes to play with the dolls more than I, she said to me one day she wanted to have 20 babies. I think that’s too many, don’t you? I would be content with just one or two.

 Sometimes I play with my older sisters, but they are very bossy, they are always trying to tell me what to do. I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.  One day I was in Tatiana’s room. Tatiana and Olga were there. I was minding my own business, just playing with the piano, pressing all the white keys at the same time, and just sitting there and digging in my nose with my left hand. Olga wanted to slap me, but I ran away from her swinish hand. What gives her the right to do that? It was my nose, so I was using my hands on her piano. So, that was a wonderful summer. We travelled all the time that year it was the 300th anniversary of the family and we went to all the Russian towns. Everywhere we went great crowds gathered to cheer and wave; there were so many parties and big grand dances. I loved to dance. We all wore white dresses with blue satin sashes and danced with officers in full dress uniforms. My daddy says a good Russian feels dance because it is in our blood. I am a good Russian and I love a good waltz by Tchaikovsky. That year we danced all the time. Tall officers from the court would spin us round and round till we felt dizzy. We would go out in the balcony and have a … I’m embarrassed to say it… we’d have a cigarette. Yes, I know I was only twelve, but everybody smoked. I remember the first time Maria and I snuck into daddy’s office and opened the cigarette box. “That’s daddy’s cigarette box,” I said.

“Yes,” Maria said “Want to smoke one?” There was a little voice in my head saying: “Don’t you’ll get caught,” but of course… I did it anyway. Maria and I drew our first puff and exhaled. We coughed and coughed and then smiled that we got away with it. I played with the smoke in my mouth pushing it out then… feet. Big feet. I looked up from the feet and saw… daddy, only he didn’t look like daddy. At that moment, he looked like Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, the Tsar of all Russia’s. And when he gave us that look, we knew we were in trouble. I must confess daddy gave me that look a lot, like the time I put rocks into snowballs and threw them at Olga… well she called me shorty! Or the time I would hide my food under the table at state dinners. I never liker state dinners anyway; they were so closed, so claustrophobic. I was always dressed in big white gowns with corsets and couldn’t breathe and eating was out of the question, so I had to do something with the food. I was never as elegant as Olga, the oldest, or Tatiana, the prettiest. I am the shvibzik , which means Imp or troublemaker. But I never thought of myself as making trouble, things just happen. Anyway no one seems to get hurt; in fact, I really can say honestly I do love my family. I’m glad Tatiana is the prettiest and I couldn’t imagine a world without Olga being the oldest and if Maria wants to have 20 babies, that’s fine too… in a strange way we were all, my sisters and I together. Sometimes we’ll finish each other’s sentences, or we’ll know what each other were thinking. We would sign our letters OTMA; that stands for Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia. We had a code language that all four of us knew and spoke to each other. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any of it it’s a secret. YES, it’s a state secret… well, I just can’t resist I’ll give you just two words. Just two. I give you these two as they will be relevant to the story. Word one: “Medicine” and word two: “Potato”. That’s it. That’s all, don’t ask for anymore. We had to use the code there were… things… things we couldn’t repeat, not to anyone. You must remember: growing up with daddy and mommy, we were never alone there were always servants or soldiers around, like when we had to wait for Gregory to come. I never realized anything was wrong until one day when I was very little. I decided to climb the rocks outside Ghencha that’s our summer house on the Black sea. I wanted to look at the waves from a distance and I went off. I got about half way up when I noticed a crowd of people looking up at me. Daddy was there, and Mommy; and everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. This time, daddy wasn’t smiling. He was looking very much like the Tsar of all Russia. It took me a while to notice they weren’t looking at me but about twenty feet away from me at Alexia, my baby brother. He was about four at the time. I thought I had the audience when it was my brother stealing the show! Well, if you must know the truth, I never asked him to come, but there he was high on the rocky ledge. To our right there was about 200 feet drop. For some reason I stopped, and I must confess I was angry. Then Alexia stopped as well. Soon the drama was over and baby brother was “rescued”. I, of course, had to climb down by myself. Couldn’t anyone notice me? Who am I? WHO AM I? WHO AM   I? I was still angry, but daddy explained that baby brother has a special secret that we must never tell. You see, he can never stop bleeding so he must never get a cut or anything. This caused mommy and daddy to worry a lot, that is, until Gregory Rasputin came. Mommy said Rasputin will come to save us. Mommy said he’s a saint to save us… I guess that’s good, but I must tell you I would wish he would take a bath occasionally. He does smell.

I’ll tell you about my dog. Her name is Ortino. She’s a cocker spaniel with a white nose and black paws. She will sit up and beg, and one day I taught her to give her paw. She is so sweet. She loves dinner. They bring different dishes to taste for Alexia and we all come and gobble them. They are so delicious. Terrific! We had just finished dinner and were sitting with Mother. The dogs were running about the room and barking loudly. Mother was going to receive Malakhov at 9 a.m. and Malam was coming too, which is very pleasant. I took this picture of myself looking at the mirror. It was very hard as my hands were trembling. I remember that day. Isn’t it funny how you seem to remember some days better than others? I remember that day because that was when the war started. Daddy had to go and leave us for long periods of time, but we wrote to him a lot. “Dear Daddy, I had 7 classes today and tomorrow I am going to have 4 or 5… I am having a Russian class now and Pyotr Alexeyevich is reading Turguenev’s ‘The Hunter’s Notes’ to us……We have just finished dinner. Mother is lying and sisters are sitting nearby. Tatiana is out, of course, as usual. Shvybzik and Ortino are lying in Mother’s bed and sleeping. They are such darlings…

“Dear daddy, I’m so grateful to you that you allowed us to use your bath. We bathed there yesterday. It was such fun! I was the first to go. There was so much water. I was able to swim around the bath and then jumped down from its sides. It was terrific! Then Maria and I played in the water for some time but, unfortunately, I had to get out soon. Ortino was running about all the time and barking. After that, Olga and Tatiana bathed and also enjoyed themselves!… Mother already has the flowers you like in her room. You know those yellow flowers that grow in front of Grandmother’s windows? They have just opened; I took one and pressed in a book for a keepsake. Tomorrow is Sunday. It’s so good to not have lessons when you can lie about in bed longer than usual… All of us are missing you, including Ortino who is running about here like a mad dog… She is such a dear…” “…The sun is so warm today. In front of the house there are some white and yellow little flowers and some little daisies… but they are few.” 

Summer changed to winter, but the war went on. I directed a play for the wounded soldiers. We performed on the balcony. It was so pleasant. The choir sang “Lord, have mercy upon us!” by Tchaikovsky and we were all thinking about you, Father dear. Yesterday evening we were at Anya’s (Vyrubova). Demenkov, Shvedov and Zborovsky were there, too. We were to rehearse the comic item of the programme. We were dying of laughter looking at the actors… Uncle Pavel will, of course, have tea with us. So dull… When we are at home we sit in the balcony all the time and have dinner there, too… Ortino has rushed into the room and is running about looking for you. When she failed to find you, she jumped up on Mother’s lap… I am sitting now and grating carrots and radishes. Very tasty. At 11 a.m. I go to Aleksey’s room and gobble Aleksey’s food samples. Almost all teachers also take part in it. I miss dear Shvybzik (Anastasia’s dog). I still have the cigarettes you gave me and I smoke them sometimes with pleasure and thank you very much.

Mine and Maria’s bed is in the middle of the room. It’s better to sleep there. We open the window and it becomes very pleasant and comfortable… Sometimes we have classes in Mother’s balcony and once we had to go to the garden while they were leading the wire for the lamp there. Yesterday, the three of us, “the little ones” so to say, went to Anya’s hospital and there was a concert there. It was very nice. A small 10-year-old girl danced a Russian folk dance to concertina’s accompaniment. She looked so sweet. I felt a sort of pity for her. De La Zari was there as usual as well as Yu.Morfecy, Sasha Makarov and your friend Lersky. He told such a funny story about a drawing lesson that all the soldiers cried from laughter. Then he told them a funny story about playing the piano in three different rooms on different floors and how it all sounded for someone who listened. It was also very funny and finally he told them about the Zoo… Olga and Tatiana were in their hospital at that time and also saw a concert there. The Ferzens, the Bezobrazovs, some young ladies and a lot of other people were playing the balalaikas there. Maria and I are playing musical instruments together now. She is playing the piano and I am playing the balalaika. It sounds good, but it’s better when we play with Olga. Tell Aleksey that I play the balalaika as well as the sisters. Yours forever Anastasia…” “The weather is still nasty, it rains every day, but we still have breakfast and tea in the balcony. One day in February, we saw all these people at the gate. ‘Olga, who are these people at the gate?’ I said. ‘Don’t you remember’ she said, ‘the one day when you were close to the gate and saw a young boy and girl you wanted to play with? You tried to get closer, but the soldiers stopped you, they looked so afraid,” she said, “Many people in Russia are afraid of us, but they are afraid no longer because daddy’s no longer tsar.” In shock I responded. “That’s silly daddy is always tsar he is our father, the father of all Russia’s. He will watch over and protect us.”… “No,” said Olga, “Daddy is no longer tsar and we are no longer grand duchesses.”

Mommy and Olga seemed to be upset over this, that night they went to the soldiers to plead with them to stay, but they wouldn’t. They ran away.

They were afraid, but to tell you the truth, I wasn’t afraid. I was overjoyed. The palace which always seemed to be bursting with people, people watching us soldiers and courtiers in every room was empty. I walked from room to room danced on floors no one was there. Just me, my sisters and Mommy alone in a palace. This meant I no longer had to where a crown, I no longer had to where all those white dresses and be nervous about spilling on them. I could finally answer the question I longed to answer: who am I? I could be free, mommy told us to learn English because we would be going there, to England. Good, I thought, I can go and be a actress or a photographer. We were told to move, so different soldiers put all our things on a train. Daddy told me not to be afraid.

I will tell you how we travelled. We started in the morning and when we got into the train I went to sleep, so did everyone else. We were very tired because we did not sleep the whole night. The first day was very hot and very dusty. At the stations we had to shut our window curtains so that nobody could see us. Once, in the evening, I was looking out the window. We stopped near a little house, but there was no station so we could look out. A little boy came to my window and asked: “Uncle, please give me, if you have got, a newspaper.” I said: “I am not an uncle, but an aunty and I have no newspaper.” At the first moment I could not understand. Why did he call me “Uncle”? But then I remembered that my hair was cut and I and the soldiers who were standing next to me laughed very much. On the way, many funny things happened, and if I have time, I shall write to you as we travel further on. Goodbye. Don’t forget me. Many kisses from us all to you, my darling.

If you visit the Alexander palace today you’ll see a doll in a glass case. The caption reads: ONE OF THE GRAND DUCHESS DOLLS. It’s in a case to protect it from the air. And there, my dresses of white and pink, also in glass cases to prevent their destruction. In a way that’s what it was like as a grand Duchess, preserved at the palace, in a glass case all my life. Is this who I am? Is this the sum of my life, to be a doll in a glass case? I felt determined then and there to decide no, no I will be myself. So, we went to Siberia I felt it would be the beginning of my new life; to answer the question I keep repeating: who am I? At first, life in Siberia was pleasant. We still had our lessons, and Maria and I still performed plays. The soldiers were not bad; they treated us kindly and I started to hope. Then, something changed suddenly. There were different soldiers. They called us enemies of the people. Daddy said they were afraid. Why were all the Russian people afraid of us? I thought that if I could understand who I was, then they wouldn’t have to be afraid, cold and lonely, feeling the all the fear around me. soldiers not in uniforms, now they were wearing black leather jackets only. They were guarding the people’s enemies now. NOW, I suddenly feel it. Mommy’s constantly living in dread. She says something’s going to happen to us all the time. My chest feels heavy, heavy with dread. I must get it out.so I start writing poems, here’s one, “A young girl who was called Evelyn had just died. She was lying in the coffin, very pretty. All her things [were] in the same place. Nothing was changed and even the flower that she gathered, stood in the glace, but was beginning to fade. When she died, she was only sixteen years old. There was a man who loved her without having seen her but knew her very well. And she had heard of him also. He never could tell her that he loved her, and now she was dead. But still he thought that when he and she lived their next life, whenever that will be, no, that will not be me, that will not be me, that will not be me, I will find out who am I first.

 I was lying in bed on a hot summer night in July thinking about writing. Yes, I’ll be a writer… I hear the men in leather jackets talking to daddy.

 Maria and I have just been lying on the grass in front of the balcony… Yesterday the four of us made a fire and jumped over it. It was wonderful. 

  We were told to get dressed and to go, in the middle of the night.

 Today they will show films to the wounded, I am very happy as we all go too… Maria and I rock in the hammock sometimes and she overturns me each time and I fall right on my face.

 We were led down to the cellar.

Olga and Maria and I sometimes ride our bicycles about the rooms at full speed. Olga tries to catch me up or vice versa. We fall sometimes but are still alive. The lessons are over, and I am going to have breakfast with Mother and sisters though I don’t know if they have come back.

 We wait until the men in the leather jackets come in. They are all holding guns.

 Yesterday we were at the concert in the Grand Palace. They celebrated the second anniversary of their hospital. It was rather nice there. Your friend Lersky was there. Mother saw him for the first time and liked him.

 They said something to daddy about the peoples committee, but I’m not listening.

Olga’s cat is running about here now. She can be heard as she is wearing a little bell on her neck with a blue ribbon.

 Mother makes the sign of the cross, Father says forgive them they know not …..

 Mother is lying down and we usually have breakfast and dinner nearby, but we have tea in the bedroom. We all have toy pistols now and we like to shoot very much. In the evenings after dinner, we go to play in the corner room where Olga, Maria, Alexey and I hide from each other and then shoot at each other in the darkness, but Alexey is sometimes scared and does not enter the room… yes, I’ll be remembered as a good Russian writer I’ll write stories like the ones by Chekov or Tolstoy.

The men in the leather jackets open fire on us, and at that exact moment I can answer the question. Then thirteen bullet shots make me collapse to the ground as I remember. WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I,  WHO AM I,  WHO AM I,

WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I , WHO AM I , WHO AM I ?

That’s the end of my story, oh I see by your faces you really don’t want it to end, I completely understand. Daddy says a good story never really ends, very well then I’ll give you two endings two alternatives around which two myths are built, I will only do this under one condition , you have your choice but you must accept all one or the other completely and with your soul you cannot accept pieces of one and pieces of another. Very well, I’ll start with ending one, or the myth of despair, called Evelyn’s despair. Myth is the most powerful tool you have. Myth is more powerful than any army or human being could ever be. Myth can inspire us to do great things or evil things.  

The men who shot me and my father were afraid and truly acted out of fear but what happened next was ,…well  there is an old Russian saying it goes “you can catch the devil but you can’t hold him long”, that night the devil was let loose in Russia and in the world As soon as the events of the murder of the imperial family reached the outside world the devil said the  executioners were  led by Jews. The devil went one step further and said Jews killed the imperial family, the imperial family of Holy Russia, the devil gave power to the nazis. So the war to end all wars became in fact the war that started all wars, and is still going on today. 100 years and 100 million deaths later. And the devil is still turning words into mass extermination.

This is only a myth and I don’t believe in it , yet some do and as long as some do it is kept alive , I am as I said a girl with an unusual destiny I wish I could make you understand I really do but I think it will just fly over your head, because try as you will to understand you cannot understand myth unless you understand God.

There is another myth, let’s call this one “Evelyn’s Hope”, as the men in the leather jackets open fire on us, and at that exact moment I can answer the question,  WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I,  thirteen  bullets hit my chest , and thirteen bullets bounce off my chest, but the words kept running in my head, WHO AM I,  WHO AM I,  WHO AM, Olga sewed diamonds into my corset, WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO, the was much smoke and lots of footsteps , blood everywhere , WHO AM I, WHO AM I , put on the back of a truck as it moved down a farm road, the truck gets stuck in the mud, WHO AM I , WHO AM , the guards go off to look for help  , WHO AM I,  WHO, I rise from the flat bed , quietly and gently taken by someone and hidden in the forest,  WHO AM I, I see a shiny starry sky of an impossible night , of an impossible story, I hear a gramophone. I like it , Maria and I still sleep the way we did in summer and don’t want to remove our beds but Mother doesn’t like it, I have recovered the diamonds that save me help me and my liberator to get out of the country where I become a Disney cartoon character , to be loved by millions, yes I told you a girl with an unusual destiny.

I am shvibzik and once I placed a small yellow flower into a photo album , so delicate, so fragile you can barely see the words on the page ,and for all those young girls who escaped death by using my name , I am happy I brought you freedom , just one word,  don’t forget me ,  I remember pressing that flower and putting it in my photo album, I put it there in 1913, the word on the page was “greetings from shvibzik,”..

 Well there you have it two endings two myths, two stories which one will you believe.