Юсупов

A letter from Princess Zinaida Ivanovna Yusupova to her granddaughter Tatiana （1888）

My dear Tanyok,

I have no news of you!!! I'm very upset about this. Not seeing you and not reading the lines you've written to console myself! You, who have accustomed me to these two comforts. My dear, dear ladybird! When will you cease to be one, to be called by this sweet nickname? It's impossible for your cold to last so many days. So, it must be a serious illness! I embrace you tenderly! If it weren't for the cold, I would have been with you long ago. Greetings from me to Nikolyus, who is very kind and has proven that he remembers me.

I hope Zinaida is feeling well, I send my regards to her.

Your grandmother.

2 March 1920, 3 p.m.

50 Onslow Gardens, S.W.7, Kensington 1010

(“D” with grand-ducal crown)

I have just returned from the countryside. My letter will probably surprise you greatly, especially after you returned mine and wrote such a strange letter to Maria.

She knew nothing of my letter to you, since I did not think it necessary to speak to her about it. Questions such as those I raised in my letter to you are always better left between those whom they directly concern — all the more since Maria knows nothing and has never asked me about the details of the December affair.

Felix — I cannot hide from you that I was greatly saddened by such a reply — or rather, by the absence of a reply to my letter. I know it must have been very unpleasant for you. But after all, how many times have you asked me about the reasons that led to the change in our once-friendly relations? I wrote genuinely very frankly and openly, trying to show you what exactly constituted the principal cause.

You write to Maria that I apparently consider you “a scoundrel and a blackguard.” No, Felix — I do not think that. I merely expressed my astonishment at your idea of going to America and making use there of facts known to you. I truly did not expect this from you.

I heard of this idea from Maria, so you were not keeping it secret, since you spoke of it personally to her.

Felix, my dear, how could you suppose that I would look at this differently? Have you forgotten our mutual oath after the murder? The oath that no one would ever speak about it without the permission of the other people involved in the affair?

Remember with what indignation you spoke to me last spring about the publication of Purishkevich’s diary and notes concerning the December night.

If you had personally told me about your idea regarding America, we would have spoken together — but I knew nothing about it. You, however, told Maria and Fyodor about it.

How would you look at me if you learned that I intended to lecture on this subject without warning you?

Felix, my dear — I never called you a criminal in the literal sense of the word. I only pointed out that participants in any killing, political or merely criminal, are always such — before the law.

You and I bear equally both moral and criminal responsibility in this matter. And I cannot call you a “criminal” without realizing that the same epithet could equally easily be applied to me.

Believe me, Felix, all this is very, very painful for me. I so hoped that all this would remain exclusively between us.

We discussed the December night together; together we carried out this deed, and together we swore not to speak of it. Unfortunately, later — when after nearly three years we met again — we began looking differently at the past and understood one another less and less.

It pains me terribly that you reacted so sharply and coldly to my letter, and above all that you decided not to answer me, preferring instead to write to my sister, to whom I had said nothing.

Could it really be that our old friendship was unable to withstand a frank, though severe, opinion on one side — or, at the very least, an acknowledgement of error on the other?

Felix, Felix — I am certain you will reflect upon all this and someday see that I was right.

I wrote truly very frankly and directly, believing I was writing to a man who once knew me and loved me. But you did not take it that way…

Farewell, my dear. If what you write to Maria — that you still intend not to meet again — is truly what you think, then evidently we shall not see one another soon. In any case, I have never borne you ill will and shall always remember you!

Dmitri

1 March 1920

My dear Felix,

Returning this evening from the countryside, I received your letter.

I am very surprised by your tone toward Dmitri. The contents of his letter to you are completely unknown to me, and your personal relations with him do not concern me. I do not know what crimes, blackmail, and speculation you are speaking of. Evidently, the matter concerns the Rasputin affair, the details of which remain unknown to me to this day.

What Dmitri and I truly did discuss, and what I of course do not approve of, was your intention in America to make use of your notoriety — something you yourself spoke to me about.

If we regarded you as a criminal, we would not invite you to our home.

My Laura and Donna

From the letters of Zinaida Sumarokova-Elston to her sister Tatiana

St. Petersburg, 21 December 1887

Tuesday evening

…In the morning, as always, I was in the nursery. After breakfast, the magical lantern of visitors began to flicker before us—people came one after another, and everyone kept asking when you would be arriving and how Papa’s health was. Among the visitors were Mikhail Mikhailovich, Nelly Baryatinskaya, Knorring (of the Cavalier Guard), and others. At dinner we had Naryshkin and Novoseltsev…

I went out for the first time and paid a visit to Grandmama and Aunt…

Today I went shopping and bought a few things for the New Year.

…Felix went bear hunting last night. He has just returned, frozen through, but since he only wounded the poor little bear, he is going back into the forest again…

I have just come home from work. The house feels so empty without you. During these holiday days, one feels your absence even more keenly! I send you my heartfelt New Year’s greetings and kiss you with all my heart, my dear little Tanechka! God grant that we may spend the New Year together.

Goodbye. Your Doudé

15 Parkside, Knightsbridge, London

24 February 1920

Dear Felix,

I do not expect a reply to this letter from you, but I want you simply to know what I think and feel.

During this time I have thought about many things, and above all about you.

You were once my best friend; I opened my soul to you, as I believed in your friendship—but what remains of that friendship?

We now meet almost as enemies at a moment when all those who love their homeland and are devoted to it should unite for one purpose, for one sacred duty.

I know that you and your circle are being set against me, falsely presenting various facts without understanding their meaning, but let us not dwell on that, for I deeply believe that sooner or later the truth will triumph and people will understand how mistaken they were.

We have lived through too much together to be now so far apart from each other. I recognized you as such as you are in reality, as you perhaps do not even know yourself. You unconsciously cast off your mask before me, and I saw what lay behind it, all that is best and noblest in you.

Having known you, I loved you even more and became attached to you. Understand that I need nothing from you and that the only feeling that guides me is a feeling of deep devotion to you and a feeling of sorrow to realize that you, whom I loved so ardently and in whom I so believed, abandoned me in the most difficult moment.

Friends are given in life not easily and not to everyone. When one has them, one must preserve them.

15 Parkside, Knightsbridge, London

Telephone Victoria 2561

26 February 1920

Dear Maria Pavlovna,

Today I received a letter from Dmitri. In it he expresses his view of me and gives reasons for the change in our relations.

This letter is so outrageous and even monstrous in its content that I find it impossible for me to answer it and am sending his letter back.

There is a limit to everything. I ask you to convey to Dmitri that if he considers me such a scoundrel and villain, capable of such vile and base acts (in which, apparently, you and Gulia share his opinion), then I think that for all of us the most correct way out of the present situation is to cease all relations between us and never see each other again.

I am sure that it will be equally unpleasant for all of you to receive a criminal, blackmailer, and speculator in your home, as it is for me to be in his house.

(end of February 1920)

Dear Dmitri,

Now I can answer your letter.

If you truly loved me and did not want to break off friendly relations with me, then before judging me so harshly, you should have verified how just your judgment is and only after verifying it and convincing yourself that it is correct could you have acted thus toward me.

I never supposed that you harbored so much malice and hatred toward me.

In your dreadful letter you dared to mock and throw mud on everything that was most sacred to me. You say that no one ever speaks to you about me. How can you know that then, having violated the oath I gave, and what I said in Petrograd and Crimea? How can you reproach me for boasting of my act and praising myself?

Knowing me as you do, could you suppose that, having come to America, I would speak and make statements about the December events? Do you know that before agreeing to that trip, I warned those who invited me that I would come only on condition that I would not be questioned about “the latter” and Rasputin?

Dmitri, I suffer terribly. That is why I work so much, but I work not in order to forget the “crime” I committed, but in order not to think about the attitude of heartless people who not long ago praised me in every way.

Even in this work people saw something bad, that I was striving somewhere, seeking some sort of popularity. But these people do not know me, whereas you knew me! You never came close to me or looked into my soul, and yet you throw such a terrible accusation at me.

Know, Dmitri, that my conscience is clear and that I do not blackmail. Before you and before others I can always answer for all my actions.

I leave it to you to decide what follows.

London, 15 Parkside, Knightsbridge, S.W.1

(Date not explicitly written on the page - 1929)

My dear little soul,

Your letter made me very happy, despite the fact that everything you write about Baby complicates rather than simplifies the situation. What also pleased me was your reasoning, coming from your heart. I fully share it and feel it just as strongly as you. If my mind tells me something completely different, it is not because I cannot feel with my heart, but because in this case it is precisely the heart that forces me to forget my own personal, selfish feelings and to think primarily not about myself, but about Bebi. We will resolve this question when we meet.

I still cannot obtain permission to leave for France. As for our return to England, everything is already arranged — there will be no obstacles.

Write to me, or better yet telegraph, whether you will wait for me in Biarritz or come to Paris. I think the first would be better. It will be easier for me to find a room alone, and it will be cheaper. As soon as I finish with the dentist, I will come for you.

It is wonderful in our little flat. Very cozy and beautiful. Everyone is eagerly awaiting your arrival. Zia and Noda send you their kisses. Noda has put on weight and resembles her mother. This morning I was at Mama’s and at Queen Alexandra’s. The Queen has lost weight and improved, but is completely deaf.

A mass of all sorts of gossip about me is circulating around the city, and it seems to me that Maria Georgievna and Steked are spreading it. Most of the English are on my side, while our compatriots, of course, are scolding me. Because of me many have quarreled. Victoria is taking the liveliest part in all this disorder. The only consolation in all this is the awareness that you are not indifferent to people and that you interest many.

I still hardly go anywhere and see very few people. Your family moved yesterday to the Savoy, since their house is not yet ready, and the King and Queen have left London.

Nana enjoyed living at Buckingham’s. It was amusing to see Anya Vyrubova there. She fits so poorly into the surroundings. We sometimes meet on Bond Street during the most fashionable hours of the day. She looks as if she had lived all her life in England. From my observations, Alexei and Nyuta are in a criminal connection. Perhaps it is not true, and it only seems so to me.

Dmitry (the younger) comes to me every day; we go for walks and run around the shops. He is very sweet, but important. Katenka has arrived, and they with Sergey have breakfast and lunch with me every day. In the evenings we occupy ourselves with music. Manuel is supposed to come to dine with me now. He is quite touching.

I am lying on the balcony and writing to you.

I kiss you tightly, my dear little soul.

Felix

16 August 1919

Hôtel Vendôme

1 Place Vendôme, Paris

Telegraphic address: Vendomotel

Telephone: Central 41–78

Dear Mama,

We have arrived in Paris, the heat is unbearable. I am very tired and feel “ill?” I am going to sleep now. Tomorrow I will continue.

Morning.

I received two of your letters, No. 22 and No. 20. No. 21 has probably been lost. I will first answer the earlier ones. I will try to find Jean Fréchon, but it will not be easy.

The funds from the husband that Papa wanted to find in Paris are nowhere to be found. I wrote to Marseilles, but have not yet received anything. What you write about Baby’s stomach is very sad, and the project of taking her to Switzerland, I think, is almost impossible, since Russians are admitted there with great difficulty. We would very much like the nurse to go to England. Is it really impossible to find someone temporarily? In Rome one can probably find a nanny. It is so annoying that Miss Crossow cannot come. Our passage to Italy is not at all as simple as you think, especially for a short time. There is a mass of trouble with papers, permits, etc.

I think to do the following: to go now to England, look around there, and decide what to do. If my idea of organizing a detachment succeeds, then before departure we will obviously come to see you and take leave of you. If nothing comes of all this, then we will live a little in England and then come to you. It is unlikely it will be possible to return to Koreiz if everything there has been plundered.

What you write about sums that do not exist will obviously be arranged through donations, etc. I am sure the English will gladly help, and through … much can be arranged. Mama left for Denmark; she does not know why or for how long. The Grand Duchess left with Nikita for London, while Fyodor remained with them, as he did not want to go with Dolgorukov, who accompanies everywhere. In general, relations between children and parents are very strained. Patron is again gloomy, Irina suffers, Fyodor quarrels out of indignation and refused to live with his mother. All this is very difficult and untimely.

I pity poor Irina with all my heart, as her heart is breaking into pieces. She wants to go to Baby; at the same time she is afraid to leave her father alone, and I am afraid to leave her with him too long, since it is not she who will influence him, but he her, and now life in Biarritz without me is completely impossible. At the same time she does not want to go far from her mother and brothers, who will now all study in London.

It seems to me that my idea of a detachment or participation in the Red Cross could bring some balance into this whole chaos. Irina can also occupy herself with something, and the feeling of fulfilling her duty will reconcile her with much. The more I live with patrons, the more such a meaningless life becomes completely unbearable at the present time. I very often recall our conversations, that idleness brings much that is bad with it. Irina now feels this herself and asks me to find her some kind of work. The example of her parents frightens her. But, unfortunately, she is not like everyone else, and sitting and taking care of her child will not satisfy her, and she does not know how to do this either. The idea of doing something for Russia attracts her most of all.

All this is very touching, and I do not want to dissuade her, since, thank God, she at least feels this, although you yourself understand that in this sphere she can do very little. In London, I am sure, it will be easier to arrange all this, even if she works with Lady Buchanan or Lady Egerton and helps Russian refugees, that will be enough for her.

I am very glad that you almost share my view of the project. In Paris there is Vasilchikov, Dilya’s husband. I want to speak with him. What you write about Denikin does not suit me for many reasons. I want to get to Petrograd and Moscow as soon as possible, and then it is unpleasant to return by the same road by which we fled. A journey to the North may justify this to a certain extent.

I will try to find blueberries for Baby. Pucci has not yet delivered your things in Paris. Bischet gave your things to some Italian duchess. I will write to her and pass them on to Pucci.

I saw Galla. Dalgren, it must be said, plays a remarkable role in this whole story. I did not expect that Kakadu would drag her child everywhere with her like a little dog.

I received a long letter from M. Shakhovskaya; she is in Versailles. Apraksina’s letter was sent a week ago, Hotel Flare. I read Claude A., very interesting.

It is difficult to decide about Bischet’s dacha, but at the same time it is a pity to let it go.

Artur still cannot arrange his trip to Berlin. I think it will soon be permitted, after the ratification of peace.

I will write about things later, since now they create great difficulties, and therefore Tesfya should not take them all with him. Let him wait for my telegram. You can give him the earrings; let him sew them into a little pouch and hang it around his neck.

Gleb’s dream and the book you read to us about Boris are truly astonishing. Even unpleasant.

We saw Mathilde Ler… in Rome—it is some kind of nightmare. We felt very sorry for you because of Sandra.

I kiss you tightly.

Felix

What is to be done with Elena? What a good lesson for her for all her affectations. It seems to me she is not wanted in England because of her charms.

Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov in his youth (II)