Miss Lavington's report.
On 5th November, 1927, I received at Schloss Seeon a letter from my sister Ruth, with two large illustrated sheets from the New York Tribune of 23 October in intaglio. They contained excellent reproductions of photographs of the private apartments of the late Tsar in Tsarskoe Selo, Peterhof, and Livadia. The Soviet Government supervises these palaces, and these photographs were, presumably, taken in very difficult circumstances by a certain H. Neumann. On the first page was written: The first uncensored pictures from Soviet Russia. My sister told me to give these pictures to Mrs. Chaikovski. With the intention of sparing the invalid, who was so easily agitated, and at the same time of testing her, we took the photographs of Livadia, which has been made a Soviet sanatorium, and carefully cut off all the reading matter and anything that might have helped her to recognize the pictures. I took six of the best, which were numbered, in order that no mistake should arise later, and asked the invalid to look at these pictures. I placed one of them before her, a rather indistinct reproduction of the Tsar's bathroom and swimming bath, and asked what it represented. She took the picture, quite indifferently at first; but, after a few moments, she cried in the greatest astonishment, 'That is my father's bathroom!' Then, when she saw the other pictures, the Tsar's study, the bedrooms, the boudoir, the music room, and the children's play-room, she became very much agitated and cried out in an anguished voice, 'But those are our rooms!' She went away quickly to her room, with bowed head, obviously in great agitation. After a few minutes, I knocked at the door, and received permission to enter, The invalid was standing in the middle of the room, very red and excited, and, before I could say anything, she asked me, in tones of the strongest disapproval, 'How can these photographes have got into this paper?' To my reply that money would buy everything, she sorrowfully assented.
Then, after reflecting for a short time, she told me with great assurance where and what these rooms were. Looking at the picture of another bedroom, she said quite quickly, 'This was my brother's room'.
When she looked at a photograph of the Tsar's study, she recognized the table at once, and said, indicating a framed photograph of a lady who could not be clearly distinguished, 'That is my father's mother.' In another reproduction, she pointed out a picture on the wall, and said 'That is my brother,' and, on closer examination, it proved to be actually the picture of a little boy in a sailor suit. The photograph is, however, so indistinct and dark that only good knowledge or this room could have made a statement of this sort possible.