Another important event of that time which came as a consequence of Sophia Ivanovna’s death, was that we passed over into the charge of a tutor. He was Nicolai Ivanovich Saltikov⁠—not the Saltikov who, in all probability, was our grandfather, but Nicolai Ivanovich, who had been attached to my father’s Court. He was a little man, with an enormous head and a stupid-looking countenance, on which there was a constant grimace. Constantine used to imitate it beautifully. This change necessitated parting with my dear Praskovia Ivanovna, my old nurse.

Those who have not had the misfortune of being born in a royal house can hardly imagine the distorted view we have of people, nor our false attitude towards them. Instead of being instilled with a sense of dependence on our elders natural to children, or with a sense of gratitude for all the good we enjoyed, we were made to believe that we were some kind of superior beings whose every wish must be gratified. Beings who, by a single word or smile, not only paid for all the kindness showered upon them, but were even conferring some sort of favour, making others happy.