Gleb Botkin’s account of Anna and Sergei’s first meeting in 1928

The Grand Duchess’s good mood, in the course of those first days in New York, led me to commit a rather bad blunder. I knew that Mr. Rachmaninoff was very eager to see Anastasia, and I, myself, was equally eager to have him see her. But being, in spite of his fame, as shy as a child, Mr. Rachmaninoff was very much afraid of calling at the house of a complete stranger — Miss Jennings. Even so, I hoped that the matter could be arranged, the more so that Anastasia had been very favorably impressed by Mr. Foley and mentioned several times how grateful she was to him for having been of such help on the day of her arrival.5

But when I asked the Grand Duchess whether she would receive Rachmaninoff himself, she became very much displeased. 5

“Why should I receive him? I do not want to receive him,” she said irritably. 5

Astonished, I began to argue that if she felt grateful to Mr. Foley, she should really feel much more grateful to Mr. Rachmaninoff, for it was at the latter’s request that Mr. Foley had met her on the boat. I also told her that Rachmaninoff would be a most valuable friend to her, and finally that he was a charming and kindly man, sincerely eager to be of help. 5

“Wow can he be such a good man?” Anastasia suddenly flared up, “when he is rich and happy and living in safety abroad, while his Emperor has perished? Where was he with all his goodness when the revolution began? Or did he not consider himself bound by his oath to serve his Emperor faithfully and die for him if necessary?” 5

It was the first time that I saw Anastasia in such a mood. She was no longer “the Little One,” but an indignant and imperious Grand Duchess. To an outsider Anastasia’s attitude towards Rachmaninoff would have appeared preposterous, but to me. It did not I myself had been brought up with the same uncompromising, essentially mystical, conception of a subject’s duty towards his Sovereign which Anastasia now stated. It was characteristic that she spoke of a Russian’s duty not towards herself, or any other member of her family, but only towards her father, the Emperor. For, indeed, it was to the Emperor, and the Emperor alone, that a subject was bound by his oath. Even the Empress and the Heir to the Throne were but subjects of the Emperor. To abandon the Emperor’s family could be regarded as despicable, but not as treasonable. To abandon the Emperor was legally treason.5

But why such outburst precisely against Rachmaninoff, I wondered. Anastasia had never known him. He had always been a free artist. His guilt towards the Emperor, if any, was so much less apparent than that of the thousands of military officers and bureaucrats who constituted the majority of Russian refugees. Yet, had not Anastasia herself talked to me in Sceon of those refugees, with such touching solicitude? ⁵  

It seemed to me that the answer lay in Anastasia’s own comment on Rachmaninoff as one who was “rich and happy and living in safety abroad,” Most Russians had reached the safety of foreign lands only after years of incredible suffering and misadventures. Their own escapes having been but happy accidents, one could allow them the benefit of the doubt: perhaps they had tried to do something for their Emperor, but failed, or simply had not been in a position to do anything for him. ⁵  

Moreover, those of them who were obviously guilty of treason had been punished severely by fate itself and now led the lives of miserable outcasts. To Anastasia, who had so evidently inherited her father’s paternalistic attitude towards the Russian people, those wretched refugees were probably like children whose disobedience had automatically inflicted upon them a punishment so great as to change the parental anger to pity and sympathy. ⁵  

But Rachmaninoff’s case appeared different. He had left Russia without any trouble and now was enjoying greater fame and riches than ever before. It was that latter circumstance which apparently made Anastasia so angry with him. He, in her opinion, had no excuse to offer for his failure to come to his Emperor’s aid, nor had fate punished him in any way for what she regarded as disloyalty to his Emperor. ⁵  

And I knew that I would never be able to explain to her that men like Rachmaninoff, even if they had to give their oath of allegiance, had done so simply in compliance with a formality which meant nothing to them; that having never been in Government they had not regarded themselves, nor had been regarded by others, as having any special duty towards their Sovereign. To Anastasia an oath was an oath, and a man — be he a chamberlain or a saxophone player — who had sworn his allegiance to the Emperor but done nothing to rescue him from his enemies was guilty of treason. ⁵  

Even so, I continued to argue with the Grand Duchess until she finally allowed me — without, how- ever, concealing her displeasure — to bring Mr. Rachmaninoff into her presence at a certain day and hour. ⁵

Delighted, I hurried to Mr. Rachmaninoff, but had to argue with him also, for much as he wanted to see the Grand Duchess, he still felt nervous about going to Miss Jennings’ house. I assured him, however, that Miss Jennings would undoubtedly be only too happy to see him, and he finally let himself become persuaded. ⁵  

Then everything went wrong. In the entrance hall we were met by Miss Jennings who must have forgotten Rachmaninoff’s proposed visit and, with a gesture characteristic of rich New Yorkers, pointed at him with her finger and asked: “Who is this man?’’ 5

“But, Miss Jennings, this is Mr. Rachmaninoff,” I hastened to explain. 5

But my introduction produced not the slightest effect, possibly for the reason that, thoughtlessly enough, I had pronounced the name “Rachmaninoff” in the Russian, not the American, way. 5

If only — I mused — everybody could observe the Grand Duchess as I was able to observe her. Had she been an impostor her conduct would have been exactly the opposite. She would have been only too eager to impress favorably so important a personage as Rachmaninoff, nor would she have tried to hide from him because he had never known any member of the Emperor’s immediate family and could not have judged of her identity on the basis of her appearance. At the same time, it was of the meeting with Princess Xenia that an impostor would have every reason to be afraid. But to Anastasia Rachmaninoff was a stranger and — as I have already explained — a man who in her eyes had not fulfilled his duly towards her father, the Emperor; hence she did not want to become acquainted with him. But Xenia was her cousin and she was most eager to see her. 5

“As long as you know him it’s all right,” was Miss Jennings’ only comment. 5

I hardly dared to look at poor Rachmaninoff who pressed himself to the wall as if hoping that it would give way and thus permit him to escape. But worse was to come. When I ‘announced Mr. Rachmaninoff to the Grand Duchess she looked at me angrily and said. “Very well Bring him in.” 5

And when I did bring him in, I found that in the intervening minutes Anastasia had lain down on her bed and covered herself up to her nose with blankets. 5

Mr. Rachmaninoff approached her bed, but she looked at him without uttering a word, her eyes full of tears. All three of us froze in utter embarrassment, but I think that I felt worse than anybody else, being wholly responsible for that painful scene. After a few minutes of unendurable silence Rachmaninoff tip toed out of the room. 5

I felt desperate, for I had no more hope of ever again luring Rachmaninoff into the Grand Duchess’s presence. Luckily, however, he accepted the whole incident in a most charitable spirit and there after appeared even more eager to help me than he had been before. The reason for the latter fact might have been that Anastasia’s adherents were constantly being accused of hiding her from prominent Russians, supposedly in the fear that the latter would at once know her to be an impostor. I had at least convinced Mr. Rachmaninoff that, far from hiding the Grand Duchess, I was extremely eager to have her receive the people who wanted to help her. 5

In the meantime Princess Xenia had returned from the West Indies I was of the opinion that the first meeting between Xenia and Anastasia should take place without any witnesses. Such was the isolation in which the Emperor’s family had lived, that even Princess Xenia had known Anastasia but little and, therefore, could not be expected to recognize her at first glance. I thought it very important, therefore, to enable the two cousins to have a heart to heart talk during their first meeting which could well prove decisive in its consequences. 5

Also, being certain that the Princess would recognize Anastasia in the course of her very first talk with her, I wanted to preclude the possibility of any later accusations that the Grand Duchess had been guided by somebody during that talk. But my arguments proved of no avail. Both Xenia and Anastasia felt quite nervous about that first meeting, and each in turn asked me to be present. 5

I arrived at the Jennings’ house a few minutes ahead of Xenia. In contrast with the day of Mr. Rachmaninoff’s visit, I found the Grand Duchess, while undeniably nervous, quite happy at the prospect of seeing at last her cousin. I realized at once that there was luckily not the slightest reason to fear this time that Anastasia would again retire to the sanctum of her bed and cover herself up to her nose with blankets. 5