The effect of the war upon the children of the Tsaritsa caused much pain to their gentle English governess, Miss Eager, who relates the following experience: “It was very sad to witness the wrathful, vindictive spirit that the war raised in my little charges. One of the illustrated papers had a picture of the baby children of the Crown Prince of Japan. Marie and Anastasie came running across to see the picture, and wanted to know who those queer little children were. I told them, and with a look of hatred coming into her sweet face Marie slapped the picture with her open hand. ‘Horrid little people,’ said she; ‘they came and destroyed our poor ships and drowned our sailors.’” Miss Eager then explained to the little Grand Duchess that it was not these children who had done this terrible thing, because they were only babies and could not possibly fight. But Marie answered obstinately, “Yes; those little babies did it. Mamma told me the Japs were all only little people!” Olga, as usual, was yet more bitter toward the Japanese. One day she opened up vituperatively: “I hope the Russian soldiers will kill all of the{186} Japanese; not leave even one alive.” Her teacher tried to explain that there were many little children and women in Japan, who had nothing whatever to do with the war and could not fight under any circumstances. Would it be good, she asked of Olga, for the Russian soldiers to kill these too? The child was thoughtful for a moment, then asked: “Have they an Emperor in Japan?” “Yes, certainly,” the teacher answered. Olga then asked several more questions, and finally remarked: “I did not know that the Japs were people like ourselves. I thought they were only like monkeys.”
Olga, like so many children, who are the oldest in a family, has always been a handful. About Marie, and Anastasie, and Tatiana too, for that matter, are many pretty little stories of charming childish ways, but almost every anecdote I heard of Olga was when she had been up to some mischief, or disobedient, or stubborn, or quick of temper. One or two of these stories, however, are interesting and show that even the mother task of an Empress’s life is very much like every mother’s life, and especially in the case of the Tsaritsa who has ever undertaken so much more personal care of her children than most Queens—and one may even say, than many mothers right here in this land.
One day, before the outbreak of the war, when Olga was quite a little girl, she was taken for a drive with her nurse along the Nevsky Prospect, the principal street in St. Petersburg. The little Grand Duchess simply would not behave. She{187} was continually jumping up and attracting the attention of people along the streets, and as it was that time in the afternoon when the Nevsky is crowded, this meant pretty much the attention of all St. Petersburg.
Suddenly the child dropped back into her seat and sat bolt upright as quiet as you please, her hands folded demurely in her lap. After a moment she turned to her nurse and said: “Did you see that policeman?” The nurse replied she had, but there was nothing extraordinary about a policeman on the street. “But this one was writing something,” pursued Olga. “I am afraid he was writing, ‘I saw Olga and she was very naughty.’”
When the nurse replied that this was unlikely Olga reminded her, somewhat reproachfully, that a few days before they had seen a policeman arresting a woman who was under the influence of liquor, and when Olga had begged that the woman be let off the nurse had replied that the woman had been very naughty and deserved to be arrested, adding that one had to be very naughty indeed to be taken off by the policeman in that way.
The incident evidently made a deep impression upon the child, for no sooner had they got back to the Palace than Olga began to inquire if any policeman had been there for her. As soon as she could, she related the whole affair to the Tsar and the Tsaritsa and ended by asking her father if he had ever been arrested. The Emperor laughed and said he had never been quite naughty enough{188} for that, to which Olga exclaimed: “Oh! how very good you must always have been!”
A little while before this Olga had been naughty all day and her nurse said to her: “I am afraid you got out of bed with the wrong foot foremost this morning.” Olga looked thoughtful for a moment but said nothing. The next morning, before getting out of bed she called to her nurse to ask which was the right foot for her to get out with. The nurse indicated one of her feet and Olga slowly descended upon it. “Now,” she said, “that bad foot won’t be able to make me naughty to-day.” And all day, whenever Olga started to do things she ought not to do, the nurse had only to remind her that she had got out of bed with her right foot that morning, therefore she couldn’t be contrary.
Tatiana’s next youngest sister, the Grand Duchess Marie, one day caused a ripple of amusement in the same Winter Palace. She was looking out of one of the windows when a regiment of soldiers marched past, through the magnificent Winter Palace Square over which a colossal Angel of Peace............