Diary of a Wimpy Czarovitch

By JG Hampton

What was it like being heir to the richest throne
in the world? His father Nicholas was worshipped as a god. Yet when he was born, he was flawed and not expected to live to adulthood. A staretz with hypnotic eyes kept him alive. How was this weakling going grow up rules this vast domain?

Luckily his faux diary survived the revolution and his thoughts and feelings have risen like a phoenix. Who were his real enemies? Read about the lost kingdom of privilege and the curse that brought down his dynasty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JG Hampton
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301995967

JG Hampton

J. G. Hampton is a full time author/illustrator who graduated magna cum laude from the University of Utah as an educator who thanks to recertification requirements has accumulated enough hours for a master’s degree from Utah State University. A survivor of both a wicked mother-in-law and a wicked stepmother who stole her inheritance, she’s trying to live happily ever after despite a few evil spells during her life. Being left handed in a right handed world, she has yet to master Leonardo Da Vinci’s mirror handwriting technique, but she has mastered being a reverse image identical mirror twin who not only survived her birth as the runt of the litter, but the birthing of three daughters and over twenty literary magnum opuses in several genres. While constantly rooting for the underdogs of the world, she looks at crystal goblets and life as being half full rather than half empty. A firm believer that one must create their own magic if one is to enjoy life. She enjoys happy endings in her fiction and nonfiction musings. Enjoy her work on Smashwords

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Prologue

Prior to 1918, the year of the Russian Revolution, the largest country in the world with incredible natural resources was ruled by the Romanov family who had reigned over the dominion for over three hundred years. The kingdom was so vast that no czar had traveled through it at one time. Russia included the land of Poland, the Ukraine, the lands of the Tatars, the Mongols, the Huns, Finland, and Siberia. Few czars had ever set foot in the frozen world of Siberia, which remained a backwards country seemingly immune to progress.

The first Romanov family member to reign as czar was actually selected by the people because of his charisma, intelligence and good looks. The Romanov prince was anointed as Czar and he and his bride founded their dynasty. The humble people met him with salt and bread and the tradition was carried down through the ages as well as the family names of Mikhael, Alexei, Alexander and Nicholas.

The Romanovs were a privileged family, rich beyond belief with their many palaces and mansions: the old Kremlin in Moscow, The Annitchkov Palace, the Catharine Palace, the Grand Palace which was an imitation of Versailles, the Alexander Palace, the Winter Palace, Peterhoff, and the new summer palace in the Crimea, to name a few of their magnificent holdings.

Czar was a word derived from the word Caesar and the czar ruled supreme. His very shadow was worshipped by the superstitious peasants who considered him God's representative on earth. His touch was purported to heal scrofula, a nasty skin disease and other ailments. His word and edicts often determined whether one lived or died. Serfs lives contrasted sharply with the lives of the rich Russian nobility who spoke French at court. Peasants scratched out an existence by farming small plots and herding animals belonging to a wealthy aristocrat giving most of the fruits of their labors to the noble.

For them poverty was a way of life from birth to death and few were able to rise above this system of slavery. The Russian way of life seemed impermeable to change like the permafrost or an insect preserved in amber but in the mid 1800's Czar Alexander Romanov II did something remarkable: he liberated the serfs allowing them to own their own meager plots of land so that they could grow vegetables and food for their families. This remarkable gesture allowed them a chance to live lives as humans rather than beasts of burden. This forward thinking czar enabled the poorest of his subjects to accumulate a surplus of goods, a feat they'd never been able to achieve before. As a reward for his progressive thinking, he had his legs blown off by a bomb of nitroglycerine thrown at his coach by a peasant as he traveled from the Winter Palace. Czar Alexander II died shortly afterwards in his St. Petersburg palace, the Winter Palace, while his impressionable young grandson Nicholas II, his son Alexander and other loved ones watched in horror as he bled to death. No wonder his successor, son Czar Alexander III stalled the progress that his father had started. He and his family ensconced themselves behind fortresses and palace walls in attempts to foil assassins. Now that nitroglycerin was available having been developed by the inventor Nobel, czars and other world leaders were sitting ducks destined to become an endangered species as dynamite became easily accessible for the manufacture of bombs and projectiles.

It was almost as if open season was declared on these reformers of the dynasties. Dynasties began to topple as rulers were targeted by assassins and revolutionaries; they were replaced by democracies or repressive regimes ruled by an iron handed dictator. The French monarchs, the Capets and Bourbons, King Louis and his beautiful Austrian bride, Marie Antoinette, were the first to fall. Then the American colonies won their independence from Britain.

In England in the late fifteen hundreds, the English people recognized Mary I, or Mary Tudor, an illegitimate daughter, as formidable King Henry VIII's successor when his adolescent son King Edward, died well before his time and contrary to the young king's own edicts. His cousin, Lady Jane Gray had been designated as Edward's heir until she produced a son who would rule in her place. The English people knew whom they wanted as their lawful queen and rallied behind her. When Queen Mary I died without issue, her younger half sister, another female declared a bastard by her own father, Elizabeth I, ruled so successfully and long, that an era was named after her. Women were granted the right to reign as well as male sovereigns from that point forward in English history.

When Queen Victoria despite her German roots became the heiress apparent, her people didn't hesitate to crown her Queen of England. The Divine right of Kings and Queens, continued to be a sacred responsibility in the island kingdom. She married her first cousin, a German from Saxe-Coburg, who never shared her throne with her, but who performed his duties as a royal consort nevertheless. Her epoch was named after herself, the Victorian Era. Their romance was rumored to be a love match and produced nine children.

Russian law, in spite of Catharine the Great's tremendous success declared that male heirs had precedence as rulers throughout the three hundred year history of the Romanov dynasty and male heirs remained as sovereigns until the end of the dynasty with succession rights.

Unfortunately, Queen Victoria, the grandmother of Europe, due to intermingling of close bloodlines, passed along a flawed gene which caused a blood disorder in some of her male offspring called hemophilia to her daughters and granddaughters several which passed this gene to other royal houses spreading havoc throughout several dynasties. The Spanish dynasty, the Russian, and the tiny Hesse- Darmstadt Dynasty were affected when the heir to the throne was born with the illness. Three year old Fritz bled to death after falling out of a second story window of the palace. He was Queen Victoria's grandson and older brother of Alix. Although recent Windsor descendants claim that the hemophilia gene never affected their lineage much. Closer scrutiny of historical records proves otherwise. Perhaps they claim this only because those who had the abhorrent disease as well as their parents kept the information under wraps. One of Queen Victoria's four sons died shortly after reaching adulthood after producing two children. Not many knew that he had the bleeding disease, but the queen herself acknowledged that it had been a burden which had to be borne.

Czarina Alexandra of Russia, Queen Victoria's favorite granddaughter; was the former Alix of Hesse-Darmstadt whose own brother, Frederick or Fritz, was the tragic three year old who hemorrhaged. However, her other brother Ernest, never had the disease and he inherited the small throne of the principality. Irene, one of her sisters also had a son who died from hemophilia.

Alix of Hesse-Darmstadt, turned down Britain's crown Prince Eddy's proposal of marriage because she was in love with another grander Russian royal. Her grandmother was quite upset that she had refused the throne of England. Eddy contracted influenza and died not long afterwards. Despite the objections of several royal houses, Queen Victoria's granddaughter, the beautiful Alix, wed Nicholas Romanov II and passed the tainted gene to her first born son, Alexei. Another earlier miscarriage of the couple was rumored to have been a male by the attending physician who might have had the flawed genetic code resulting in her first miscarriage. After many years of waiting and praying for a son, having delivered four exquisite daughters, Olga, Tatiana, Marie, and Anastasia, Alix, now known as Czarina Alexandra, was finally delivered of a handsome boy whom they named Alexei despite having discussed on their honeymoon naming their first son Mikhael. However, when this long awaited male was finally born after many prior disappointments they chose the name of Alexei for him. Czar Nicholas II rejoiced that their prayers had finally been answered and the kingdom celebrated with canon salutations and fireworks. When his son's navel started bleeding shortly after his birth, it was discovered that he had the dreaded disease of hemophilia which had been inherited from his mother and great grandmother for which there was no treatment and no cure. This dire diagnosis was kept secret for years since their dynasty was at risk due to the popularity of the former czarina. This illness was painful and called the English bleeding disease. At the time, males with this flawed gene weren't expected to live to adulthood. One of Queen Victoria's own sons was an exception having lived to adulthood. Ironically, her other sons were not afflicted with the dire disease; somehow they escaped the dreaded DNA which caused a life of suffering. Now the illness is treated by transfusions and receipt of blood clotting injections; now afflicted hemophiliacs merely consider the illness an inconvenience. However, Ryan White, died of the dreaded disease before he was eighteen because of tainted blood transfusions in this century.

The Romanovs were excellent at keeping diaries. Alexei's actual diary was probably burned when his mother burned her private papers at the Alexander Palace when she received word that her husband Nicholas II had abdicated; consider this faux diary a ghostly replacement. This boy whose papa was the richest autocrat in the world was destined to be the last Czarovitch of Russia; read about his lost world of wealth and privilege in his diary. This is Alexei's story in his own words.

3 January 1914, 16 January 1914, Annitchkov Palace, St. Petersburg (The Romanov family kept their diaries with two dates which were thirteen days apart. Most Russians used the old style Julian calendar.)

Hurrah! Grandmother dear’s ball for my sisters is finally over now. Olga is almost nineteen, Tatiana, seventeen, Marie, fifteen, and Anastasia is thirteen. I’m Alexei, their youngest brother, the Czarovitch of all Russia, and I’m ten. I wonder who was the belle of the ball? Was it dignified Tatiana, stunning Marie, our little Bow Wow or Olga, the eldest grand duchess? It certainly was not Anastasia who at thirteen is flatter than a board and clumsier than a water buffalo. In all likelihood, it was my fancy grandmother who loves dancing and dressing up, but who still insists on being the Cinderella at every festive occasion, despite being in her sixties.

After the ball Papa can spend more time with me and my overwrought Mama can relax again. My sister, Anastasia, often called the imp didn't get to put her hair up after all, because she's too young. Mama refuses to let her wear it up until she's sixteen; she's still mad about it, but she'll get over it. She can't stay angry for long, however she's been buzzing around the palace like an angry bee trapped in a glass jar for about a week now.

I'm not too young to put up my hair, you just don't want any of us to grow up, yelled my sister hatefully to Mama one day as she stamped her foot defiantly; stinging my poor sensitive mother. In her own way, Anastasia's right, too, Mama would like to stop time and preserve all of us - the same way that Papa conserves his memories in his green photo albums, but we are not photographs to be pasted nor priceless gems which Mama can lock up like she does her necklaces in her elegant jewelry boxes; we're flesh and blood humans, thorns and all, not hot house flowers.

I'm so glad that Papa and I do not have to fuss over our hair, but simply let our barber cut and styles it once a month. Thank heavens I was born a male. I simply let the wind style my locks which are darkening for a breezy look.

Mama hates going to balls and dreads going out in public; public appearances make her face all splotchy and red and she stammers and stutters awkwardly in front of strangers.

When she arrived home early from the ball after enduring it until midnight, she came to kiss me good night, her face was bright scarlet as red as a cherry, because she'd been around the Russian aristocracy and my grandmother Minnie, the Empress Marie Feodorovna. I don't think the two of them like each other very much. I can tell from their body language and the fact that I've got a sixth sense about some things since I'm destined to be Czar of all the Russias.

They're always very polite to each other, but they never kiss or hug each other like my Auntie Annya kisses Mama and as Mama kisses Auntie Elizabeth. They don't spend time alone together and they have absolutely nothing in common. Mama is always embroidering or sewing something for the poor and grandmother doesn't think this is necessary and considers sewing beneath her dignity as the Empress of Russia. I've caught them glaring evilly at each other when they thought I wasn't looking. They both have their own powerful personalities. For awhile after mama became Czarina, Grandmama refused to give up the state jewels and this caused a problem with mama who considered this treatment an insult to her. They've had other disagreements, so I've heard. They both carry grudges and are slow to forgive. I should know since I've broken a few of their vases on more than one occasion with an errant rock from my sling shot or a flying pea from my pea shooter. Off course those were accidents. My timing or aim was off. Mother said that it was my judgment that was off.

Mama looked beautiful in her dark midnight blue velvet gown, with her silver tissue veil cascading down her back from her diamond studded tiara; her blue order for bravery which papa gave her draped across the bodice of her gown. Despite her red face she looked magnificent which was her carefully orchestrated intent, but so did my Grandmama dear in her plain brown satin ball gown. Some say my Grandmama is the more beautiful of the two. She doesn't look old enough to be my grandmamma, but she is; her faux hair pieces add to her allure.

Papa's hair is getting flecks of silver in it as is his beard and moustache. I asked mama cautiously: Who was the belle of the ball? Answering coyly she muttered: Isn't it always Grandmama? Who else would dare surpass her?

I shouldn't have asked. In my own artistic opinion, my mother was the more elegant of the two, but in public something happens to her magic. It dries up. Mama and Grandma both have powerful personalities and one shouldn't get caught in their cross fire. When Mama married Papa, Grandmama had trouble relinquishing her crown jewels and her power so I've heard which caused trouble both Mama and Papa who would not demand them. Finally Grandmama was educated about the proper protocol and procedure during the transfer of power and gave Mama the jewels.

Tonight, Mama's diamond tiara was shimmering like a thousand fireflies and glowed torch like under our palace crystal chandeliers. Mama smelled like a rose garden and Grandmama dear smelled like violets. Both of their diamond necklaces were spectacular containing diamonds as large as eggs dripping down their necks like rain drops. Mother came and kissed me goodnight and I didn't want to let her go, so she stayed with me and told me a story that her gangun, Queen Victoria, had told her when she was a young girl in Buckingham Palace in London about a troll. When I marry, I shall find someone as enchanting as my mother who is the loveliest flower in papa's garden.

4 January 1914, 17 January 1914

My sisters have chattered of nothing else other than the dancing and I'm sick of hearing about how elegant they looked in their ball gowns, but now I suppose I shall have to hear about who they danced with for ages. Wasn't Bruno handsome? asked Anastasia to Marie for the fourth time at luncheon. Then Marie piped up: He didn't compare with Sergei Pavlovic. But I've set my cap for Victor who is my third cousin once removed." Plump Bow Wow better forego her chocolate bon bons or she won't be dancing with anyone even if she thinks she is the most beautiful of my four sisters with brown eyes the size of saucers. Tatiana's hair is the longest. Her brown hair when undone now reaches well past her waist in the last long hair contest I judged. I think I'll go to bed, their droll comments are hardly worth waiting up for. It's all so boring. I'm glad that Papa and I have more interesting things to discuss like hunting and military maneuvers. Women, especially my four sisters are so silly; always simpering and fawning about. I'm glad that I'll grow to be a man who has something attention-grabbing to talk about like repeating rifles and hunting deer and wild boars.

Thank heavens I was too young to attend the ball; I couldn't have gone anyway because this was one of my bad times; I'm feverish and my left leg is swollen and won't bend. The pain is almost unbearable. Mama reminds me that our savior suffered more than I do, but he was part God. When Mama returned from the ball she turned back into mama and massaged my limbs with hand cream scented with lavender. Soon my family shall take the train back to Tsarkoe Selo to our one hundred room Alexander palace. I don't really like the Annitchhkov palace much because it is filled to the brim with Grandmama's costly treasures and here I must behave like a young gentleman rather than a wild hooligan.

Grandmother won't let me shoot my sling shot or shout in her palace and I must not put my elbows on the dining room table nor chew with my mouth open when I'm eating. Nor can I grab choice morsels of food from Anastasia's plate. Farting frogs! I'll be glad to get back to the Alexander Palace and my own room where I can relax again and play with my puppy Joy. Grandmama is a little too refined and French for my tastes. I don't like French food, especially escargot simmered in garlic and cream sauce. Imagine eating bugs for dinner! I almost gagged after Grandmama demanded that I at least try one. I don't like speaking French which is the preferred language of Grandmama's court. When I am Czar, my court shall speak only Russian like I do now.

I am just like Papa and prefer plain Russian food, particularly fish soup, borscht, dark bread with lots of butter. The plainer the food, the better I like it, but I do have a weakness for blinis drenched in butter, jam, powdered sugar and cinnamon and so does Bow Wow, but I have a hollow leg and can eat as many as I want without gaining weight. Bow Wow can't indulge like I do without suffering the consequences.

Papa gave me this diary and wants me to write in it every day. He says that it will help me develop some discipline. He has kept a diary ever since he was a young man and so I shall, too. I want to be just like him, only taller. I want to be as tall as my dead grandpapa Czar Alexander III who was taller than Abraham Lincoln who was six foot four inches. Grandmama says her husband, the love of her life, looked like a huge Russian bear.

Now Papa can spend more time with me and Mama can relax again. Soon, he's going to test the new uniforms the soldiers will be wearing himself as well as the rifles they'll be shooting.

I hope he invites me camping with him. I'll request a matching uniform just like the new one he is wearing. Mama and Grandmama insist that we dress alike so that the people will visualize me as a chip off the old block and as the next czar.

Mama hates going to balls, dreads going out in public, and detests Grandmama. Public appearances make her face all splotchy and red and she stammers and stutters awkwardly whenever she must recite poetry in front of relatives or perform at the piano, she does so stiffly. Grandmama is her worst enemy; I’ve caught them glaring evilly at each other often. Grandmama whispers to her court ladies that Mama loves putting on airs and looking imperious. Could her words be undermining Mama's power base? Why are the two rivals? Shouldn't they love each other since my Papa and I both love them? Shouldn't family members support each other?

Mama pampers and spoils me according to Anastasia since I'm the only boy and one who is not too sturdy. When Mama lovingly tucks me in, I don't want to let her go, so she stays with me and tells me the story again, the one her gangun, or grandmother, Queen Victoria, told her when she was a young girl in Buckingham Palace about a troll, but this time she made me come up with a new ending while she finished knitting a wool sock for the poor. When I marry, I shall find someone as beautiful and tenderhearted as my mother. Papa came in and fetched her to bed saying that he was lonely in bed without her and that he needed her more than I did.

5 January 1914, 18 January 1914 – Olga is teaching me how to mind my manners. She says that I humiliated her