Ah, it seems the book is quite rare then! Thankyou for the information Laurra, I think I will just have to settle for a copy of the last romantic. I have been trying to hone my typing skills, and transcribed some of the most interesting letters in the book. I thought they would make interesting reading!
31st August 1934
...When I first came to Balcic the population, which is very poor and heterogeneous, was very excited and delighted. Amongst those who showed their awed pleasure was an old Turkish woman of no degree , almost a beggar in fact ... It tickled my fancy to have her come to see me, with her humble bouquet of flowers or sometimes he gift of a few nuts or eggs. She was always dressed in a black sort of caftan over wide trousers, a white veil on her head and loose slippers on her naked feet. As she generally came about breakfast time, I would invite her to take a chair and share my early repast and I would give her large cups of very sweetened coffee and huge hunks of cake. Neither of us could understand a word the other said, and all our conversation was carried out through pantomime. Her face was as wrinkled as a walnut. She had few teeth left, but there was a look of remembrance in her eyes and, if one studied her features, one could see that she must have once been pretty. Occasionally I had to submit to being kissed!
Well later on my followers discovered that this old crone had in her youth been 'a lady of light repute' and of course I was henceforth expected to repudiate her entirely. Well, I just did not ... but this inconceivable behaviour is severely criticized by those who consider themselves responsible for my queenly acts!
19th February 1936
Yes, Ducky has gone forever ... a companionship, a friend, an assurance, and also all the dearest memories of an incomparably happy childhood. To us sisters, Ducky was out conscience. She was the proudest, strongest, most upright, most capable, most law-abiding, but also the most unforgiving of us all, and this inability to forgive was what finally broke her. She had no understanding of weakness, could not accept compromise of any kind. Her ideals were absolute, not to be discussed. There was something of Lucifer's pride about her – magnificent but dangerous. This will give you an idea of her way. Once she said to me; 'If I say something is good taste, it is not that I think it is good taste, but that it is....'
Unbending, authoritative, almost domineering, she could accept no half measures. Untruthfulness she could not even understand. Her great fault was that she could give no one a second chance, being in this way my direct opposite. She could not forgive, once a person had disappointed her, or not lived up to what she had expected – she would out him or her aside....Three of us sisters were born leaders, but each in a quite different way. I used gentleness and deep understanding of the other man's side of the case. Ducky used strength and withering contempt when disappointed. Sister Baby used and uses diplomacy. We were a strong race; the mixture of Russian and English was a strange blend, setting us somewhat apart from others, as, having strong and dominating characters, we could not follow, only lead....The meeting of the four sisters, for the last time, at Amorbach, was tragic....When told by my sisters that I was there, she immediately connected the thought of me with flowers, and murmured something about lilies. We both loved our gardens. I also had the consolation to hear her say, when asked if she was pleased I had come 'It makes all the difference in the world...'
She died at midnight...The next morning I went to her for a last time alone. We had wrapped her in a long soft white silk robe. We had few flowers at Amorbach, but I had some white lilacs which I laid around her head and shoulders, and Sandra put a bunch of freesia in her hands....We buried her at Coburg. It was a cold day, half snow, half rain. I hate funerals. I am not of those who like weeping on graves....
February 1937
...Thank-you for the articles upon The Tsar (Nicholas II). What a simple fellow he was, so lovable in so many ways, but with something child-like about him. She was his fate. He adored her, and her influence was disastrous. She was one of the few people I was never able to get on with. There was a governessy attitude about her which had a freezing effect....
[Undated]
How beautiful Empress Elizabeth must have been, but how selfish. She filled the world with her own needs, her own desires, wishes and tastes. Judging her as one of her own caste, I cannot but condemn her. She lived unfairly, spending streams of her husband's money, but not playing the game – looking upon herself as a sacrificial martyr. She had remained a legendary figure because she was beautiful, original, independent of thought; because she was an Empress; and, as her Emperor was both rich and generous she could squander endless millions upon her marvellous setting. Wherever she wished to travel she travelled in a spectacular way – yachts, castles, palaces, gardens, horses – nothing was too lavish; though she had a morbid dislike, even a horror, of being looked at, and always kept a fan between herself and the crowds, even when in her greatest beauty.
Judging her from a colleagues point of view I would say 'No, she did not play the game.' She took without giving, and never thanked for what she took, only wailed at being misunderstood. She forsook her worthy, hard worked husband, and though she had moments of charity and good will, it was only when it gave her a sort of thrill or excitement. She was a poetic, also a noble, searching soul – but the morbid interest she took in herself, in her feelings, her likes and dislikes, her health, her figure, was unhealthy. She was absolutely ruthless toward the feelings of others. Of course there is no doubt she was not quite normal, and towards the end melancholia had beset her in a way which made all things unbearable to her. The truth is she accepted no duties and no one forced her to do her duty, so she was entirely without aim, never without means of given way to her every ruinous fantasy; and because everything could be had, it became worthless – simply became a chase after satisfaction, and no satisfaction was possible because there was no gratitude for what she was given, and because she had no peace of mind – never, anywhere. She was a woman who wasted her life and was never concious of how she tortured others around her. And yet she had that strange faculty of awakening admiration and calling forth deep devotion amongst the few towards whom she behaved normally...
[Undated]
Elizabeth has arranged her existence exactly as it suits her.... She is exceedingly talented , is very shrewd, and although rather silent she can be very amusing. It is our mutual love of beauty which is the strongest link between us.... Now we are excellent friends....
As to my Nicky, I am afraid I have lost him forever, not de couer, but he has been torn from me and about this I am inconsolable. We were such very close friends and companions, had so much in common. He has become a sad wanderer who does not know where to settle down....
