Antique Imperial Russian Signed Letter Grand Duchess Olga Romanov Kulikovsky

"Good day, my dear Siocha, and may God bless you and give you all that He considers best for your soul on this, your birthday!

Please forgive me for sending you that drawing of the drawing room, but I made it to show you what the new drawing room looks like. I did it around Christmas, then thought it horrible; now I have sent it after all! My photograph went with it—taken by Guri!

We had the great joy of having both our boys under our roof this weekend. Tikhon arrived on Friday at five o’clock. He was cheerful and delighted at the prospect of two nights and almost two days at home. Coffee in bed in the morning, with me there to scratch his feet, etc.…

On Saturday at two in the afternoon we took the car and set off for Næstved to fetch our hussar. At four we were waiting at the barracks gate, and the little one rushed towards us, travelling bag in hand, cheeks red and eyes shining!

All the way home he talked without stopping about his life. He likes everything, even the scoldings! It is extraordinary how well he looks. His arms and shoulders are enormously muscular; his cheeks are round and red—I even think he has grown!

The two brothers showed off [wording uncertain]; then the little one went to see his friends, the three Misses Schwarz [surname uncertain]. It was the eldest’s seventeenth birthday—what luck that Guri could come on that very day!

The three girls came to Knudsminde on Sunday, and Guri had hot chocolate at their house. At ten in the evening he caught the train from Copenhagen, half asleep, to return to Næstved.

Thank you—my throat no longer hurts, and I am going out. I stand in raptures before every flower in the garden, but I still go to the doctor every three or four days.

It was fine and even warm today. After lunch at our house, I went for a walk with Alfred, Gudrun and little Olga. The little girl is already five. She eats so neatly and loves coming to see her godmother!

Princess Vyazemskaya sends you her greetings. She thinks of you very often and holds you in great esteem. The poor woman still cannot come to us: the doctor fears bronchitis if she goes out too soon, before the warmer weather.

Tikhon arrived again this evening, tired after twenty-four hours on guard duty. After drinking milk and eating a great deal of bread and butter, he fell asleep between us on the sofa, before tea… What funny things he can tell us! Sometimes we laugh until we cry at the silly things the comrades do or tell one another.

On Saturday, as we were bringing Guri home, at about five o’clock, the sky was particularly beautiful. The red sun appeared beneath the clouds, and the whole sky turned red. All the little white farms, the woods and the plains—everything was red, and it lasted quite a long time. It was remarkably beautiful.

We pass Roskilde on the way to Næstved. Your train passed through Roskilde, Ringsted and Næstved too!!!

My white Tishka is quite well, but he has begun going wandering every night. In the morning, when he returns, he jumps onto my lap, thoroughly perfumed with his own abominable scents! My skirt smells so dreadful that I have to go and change it before going into town.

Our poor young horse, which had the spasms from tetanus, has died. It is very sad. He was handsome, in his fourth year, and born here. His mother is still working.

Yesterday we had to buy another horse: a mare who is due to have a foal on 26 April. So, with the little brother of the one that died—not yet born—in four years we shall have a pair of our own.

A good working horse costs a great deal now—700, 800, etc. We bought her for 650 at the large farm on the Copenhagen road, “Lautrupgaard.”

They have masses of horses there, two abreast, to pull the milk wagons in town. When these horses can no longer manage the paving stones, one can buy them, and they are good for ploughing here, where the ground is softer under their feet.

The other evening, in Tikhon’s room at the barracks, the soldiers made two effigies before going to bed and put them on the bed of a comrade who was coming back late. To dress the two figures, they took all that same comrade’s clothes and uniforms!

You know that all their things—boots, uniforms, etc.—must be in their proper places by morning. So you can imagine what a terrible job that comrade had during the night, disentangling everything and putting it in order!

But Tikhon says he laughed a great deal and admired his comrades’ handiwork before beginning to sort himself out…

If one takes a few “bad jokes” badly, one is lost in the barracks! It is a good school of comradeship and patience.

At first, the soldiers were rather too fond of overturning beds with the sleepers in them. Once, when some of them returned, they found a comrade already asleep with a large notice on him:

“Please do not turn me over, because my army-issue trousers are between my mattresses and must be properly ‘pressed’ tomorrow.”

They left him alone!

I have just received a letter from my sister. She sends me a newspaper article attacking the Bible—I would not read it! Idiots who write such things, and filthy newspapers that publish them!

Nevertheless, I did look at the article, and it is more serious than I thought, because it concerns a whole gathering of high-ranking bishops—the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of Oxford, etc.—who say, “The Bible can err,” who do not believe in miracles, etc.…

Horrible! A pity these gentlemen did not die before uttering blasphemies… How dreadful, Siocha.

It reminds me of that book, When It Was Dark, which I read in my youth. The story was about Jews who had prepared everything, and then the whole New Testament was denied—and about the effect this produced in the world, before it was discovered that those two Jews were simply scoundrels…

Here it is worse, because it comes from bishops!

Well, well, I must leave you. If my letter arrives early, what can I do—forgive me! I am so afraid of being late.

Yesterday it was already two years since dear Mamushka left us. We went to church—the morning service for the dead, for her.

I have magnificent cinerarias—two blue ones—and cyclamens of a Tyrian-pink colour. They are so beautiful beside one another…

Dear, dear Siocha and friend, we embrace you. Tikhon said to me last night: “Give him my greetings.”

Your Olga"