Katya & The Prince of Siam

My worst memory was the beating of offending serfs which took place on Saturday outside the steward’s house. Then I used to retreat to a distant corner of the garden so as not to hear their cries and groans. On Saturdays, I was always late for supper and sat there unable to eat. Aunt and Uncle saw my state and tears, and understood. They were good people and I cannot recall them ever resorting to violence in the treatment of their own servants. But they saw the whip as a necessity and saving grace, although they never inflicted their views on me. But when I recall these things with living clarity, my lower lip trembles as it did sixty years ago, and tears of pity and indignation come to my eyes.

The visits of the Priest Yefin Botvinovsky were a great treat for the younger members of the household. He would constantly be telling the most delightfully funny stories, and if he drank a bit over supper, he would sometimes throw off his cassock and present himself in loose trousers and a Russian ‘poddyovka’ (long-waisted coat) and dance with great enthusiasm. He would only do so when everyone assured him that Grandmama (of whom he stood in awe) had already gone to bed in her far-off room.

But there were occasions when the situation was incorrectly assessed, and Grandmama would appear unexpectedly. Batya, executing the complex steps

of the Trepak with great heat and effect, would fail to notice the fearsome spectre until Grandmama’s voice would ring out furiously. The poor dancer would instantly look highly embarrassed and rush to kiss the old lady’s hands, but she would tear them away and depart to her room, scowling and muttering fiercely.’

 

Postcards of Kiev.

 

Two of the Khijniakoff estates remained in the family’s possession till the Revolution, but long before that, bad management, debts and fraudulent stewardship had set the rest on that well-worn path of melancholy decline so common in Russia. But in the case of Yurov – best loved of all – the end was more spectacular, for one day when Aunt Tatiana and her daughters had driven out to pay calls, on turning home in a sudden storm, they saw the glow of fire. Struck by lightning Yurov was ablaze, and all was lost including the splendid library.

In Kiev, life was far from easy for Maria Mihailovna in a household where her only helper was Marysya, the old nanny. But by 1890 her eldest stepdaughter was married, one stepson was in the army and two more at boarding-school, so that only one stepson, together with Alla and Seriozha, the children of her first marriage, and Ivan and Katya remained at home.