Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna Romanova of Russia (1895-1918) was the first child and eldest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia (1868-1918) and Empress Alexandra Feodorovna of Russia, née Princess Alix of Hesse-Darmstadt (1872-1918). Her four siblings were the Grand Duchesses Tatiana (1897-1918), Maria (1899-1918) and Anastasia (1901-1918) Nikolaevna Romanova of Russia and Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov of Russia (1904-1918).
During Olga's lifetime, her future marriage was subject to great speculation and debate. Her potential suitors included Crown Prince Carol of Romania, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia, Edward, Prince of Wales, and Crown Prince Alexander of Serbia. But the young Grand Duchess was adamant that she wanted to remain in Russia and marry a Russian. Her hope came half-true, under tragic circumstances: the outbreak of World War One ended any and all talk of Olga's potential marriage, she worked as a nurse during the war (later she oversaw administrative duties at the hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown), and in 1917 she was put under house arrest with her family after her father's forced abdication. In August they were moved to Siberia in internal exile, and they stayed in the Ural Mountain town of Tobolsk until they were moved to Ekaterinburg in spring 1918, where Olga and her family, along with four faithful servants, were horrifically shot and bayoneted to death in the pre-dawn hours of July 17th of that year.
Olga was born on November 3 (New Style date November 15), 1895 at the Alexander Palace. She was such a big baby — a ten pounder — that the doctors had to use forceps to get her out. She was given her name Olga, which comes from the Old Norse name Helga and means "holy", and one of her aunts had the same name. Nicholas, the proud and happy father, marked his new daughter's birth in his diary:
"Friday. A day I will remember forever, during which I suffered much! Already in the night, my sweet Alix began feeling pains which would not let her sleep. All day she lay in bed in severe anguish — the poor thing! I could not look at her indifferently. At about 2 o’clock, dear Mama arrived from Gatchina; she, Ella and I were with Alix the whole time. At exactly 9 o’clock a baby’s cry was heard and we all breathed a sigh of relief! With prayer we named the daughter sent to us by God 'Olga'! When all the anxiety was over, and the terrors had ceased, there was simply a blessed feeling at what had come to pass! Thank God, Alix came through the birth well, and felt quite alert in the evening. I ate late at night with Mama, and when I went to bed, I fell asleep at once!" - entry from Nicholas's diary, written November 3, 1895
Above: Olga as a baby.
Above: The Alexander Palace, where Olga was born. Photo courtesy of Flying Russian via Wikimedia Commons.
Her aunt, Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna, also wrote of Olga's birth in her own diary:
"The birth of a daughter to Nicky and Alix! A great joy, although it's a pity it's not a son! The birth pains began already last night.
At 10 o'clock we went to Tsarskoe. Poor Nicky and Mama were quite weak with exhaustion. The baby is huge — weighing ten pounds — and had to be pulled out with forceps! A terrible thing to witness. But thank God everything ended well. I saw dear Alix, she looks well; little Olga lay next to her on the bed!" - entry from Xenia's diary, written November 3, 1895
Above: Nicholas and Alexandra. Photo courtesy of TatianaZ on Flickr.
Above: Olga's paternal grandmother, Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna, formerly Princess Dagmar of Denmark.
Above: Olga's maternal aunt, Grand Duchess Elisaveta Feodorovna, formerly Princess Elisabeth of Hesse-Darmstadt.
Above: Olga's aunt, Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna.
Contrary to society's expectations, Alexandra began breastfeeding Olga two days after giving birth. And, consumed with the overwhelming pride and joy at having become a "papa", Nicholas always wrote about his not-so-little girl in his diary from that day on:
"Although Alix slept very little at night, she felt well. Of course I was present for our daughter's bath. She is a big baby weighing ten pounds and measuring 55 centimetres. I can hardly believe it's really our child! God what happiness!!! ... Alix spent the whole day lying in the mauve room, for a change of air. She felt well, so did the little darling." - written November 4, 1895
"... After our daughter's bath I went for a walk. ... Alix again spent the day in the second room, with our little daughter lying next to her.
The first attempt at breast-feeding took place, and ended up with Alix successfully feeding the son of the wet nurse, while the latter gave milk to Olga! Very funny!" - written November 5, 1895
"In the morning I admired our delightful little daughter: she does not look at all new-born, because she is such a big baby with a full head of hair. Went for a short walk alone. Returned to my darling wife at 3 o'clock. Thank God all is well; but the baby does not want to take her breast, so we had to call the wet-nurse again." - written November 6, 1895
"... The little one slept a lot and only woke up to feed." - written November 11, 1895
Above: Nicholas with Olga.
Xenia again wrote of her new niece, also mentioning the first try at breastfeeding:
"Alix started feeding herself. During dinner, the wet-nurse's son started to take her breast, and we all took turns to go in and watch the spectacle! ...
Alix looks wonderful and is once more in good spirits. I saw Ott — he is delighted that everything has turned out well. The little one has the longest black hair!" - written November 5, 1895
Alexandra's grandmother, Queen Victoria, was shocked when she found out that she was breastfeeding. Her own daughter Alice, Alexandra's mother who had died almost 18 years before Olga's birth, also breastfed her babies, and Victoria was so horrified at this that she named a cow after Alice. Knowing his grandmother-in-law's distaste for breastfeeding, Nicholas addressed it in this letter to her, and he also expressed and explained his feelings about fatherhood and some things about the baby:
"Darling Grandmama,
I thank you deeply for your kind letter which your special messenger just brought — and for the kind things you say. Dearest Alicky, who is lying near me in bed, begs to thank you most tenderly for your letter and good wishes. Thank God everything went off happily and both she and the little child are progressing most satisfactorily. She finds it such a pleasure in nursing our sweet baby herself. For my part I consider it the most natural thing a mother can do and I think the example an excellent one!
We are both so pleased that you accepted to be Godmother of our first child, because I am sure it will prove a happiness to her after your constant signs of kindness and of motherly affection towards us. The name of Olga we chose as it has already been several times in our family and is an ancient Russian name.
You don't know, dearest Grandmama, the state of utter happiness I am in. It seems so strange to be a father!
Baby is going to be christened so early, so as that event can take place on our wedding-day and Mama's birthday. Dear Mama remained with us the whole time since the event and was such a comfort during the hours of expectation. We shall certainly send you some of baby's long hair; she is a wonderfully big child and promises to have large eyes. We both kiss you very tenderly and I remain ever your most loving and faithful grandson,
Nicky." - Nicholas's letter to Queen Victoria, written November 12, 1895
Olga's maternal aunt, Grand Duchess Elisaveta Feodorovna, also wrote about her to Queen Victoria:
"Dearest Grandmama,
... Your presents for the Christening Alix and Nicky wish to open tonight the evening before that happy day and they are deeply deeply touched.
Alix is looking well and her nursing the Baby does her the greatest good possible. She is not woken in the night so as to have a good rest. The Baby is too sweet. ...
The joy of having their Baby has never one moment let them regret little Olga being a girl and they are too dear with their little child. ... now all know she [Alix] is well the Baby too that she nurses so that the joy is intense and the disappointment of its being a girl washed out through the pleasure of knowing all is well." - Ella's letter to Queen Victoria, written November 13, 1895
Above: Queen Victoria.
Above: Grand Duchess Alice of Hesse, formerly Princess of Great Britain, the grandmother Olga never knew. She died from diptheria in 1878, shortly after her youngest daughter Marie, who would have been Olga's aunt.
Above: Nicholas and Alexandra with Olga.
Above: Marie Feodorovna with Olga.
Little Olga was christened on November 14/27, 1895, in the chapel of the Catherine Palace. She was taken there in a gold carriage, wrapped in a gold embroidered blanket, and carried into the chapel on a gold pillow. In accordance with Russian Orthodox practice, her parents did not attend the ceremony. Olga was dipped in the font three times and then put into a pink, satin quilted bag, dried off and undressed, and handed to the nurse. Then she was anointed with oil on her face, eyes, ears, hands and feet and carried around the church three times by her grandmother, and when the ceremony was over, Nicholas bestowed the baby with the Order of St. Catherine. Olga's godparents were her grandmother, Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna, Queen Olga of Greece, the aforementioned Queen Victoria, Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, Empress Victoria of Prussia, King Christian IX of Denmark, Grand Duke Ernst of Hesse and Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich.
Nicholas wrote to his brother Georgy about Olga:
"You are surely aware that Alix is herself feeding our dear little daughter, and has turned herself into a veritable 'goat'. Feeding was quite difficult for the first few days, but now happily the baby has got used to it. Today she behaved herself perfectly at her christening, at least that is what I am told, for of course as the father, I was invited to leave the church during the ceremony, and returned only for the beginning of the mass — all together it lasted two hours." - excerpt from Nicholas's letter to Georgy, written November 14, 1895
The young Tsar continued to document his daughter's new life in his diary and described the christening briefly but in detail:
"... At 10.45 our daughter was taken in the golden carriage to the Great Palace. The procession to church began in the silver hall; I walked with Mama — Prince M. M. Golitsyn carried the baby. I sat alone in the room behind the church while the christening took place. Everything went well, and it seems that the darling little one behaved perfectly. The service finished at 1.30." - written November 14
"Our daughter keeps growing sweeter, today she smiled at us the whole time, what a delight!" - written November 27
Above: Illustration of Olga's christening.
Alexandra's childhood governess, Mrs. Orchard, or "Orchie", was now in charge of the next generation, and must have been astonished and of course delighted to now be watching over the child of the girl whom she once was nanny to. Or so she thought, because Nicholas and Alexandra insisted on caring for Olga themselves.
"Orchie slept in the blue room and scarcely spoke to me, so offended we did not have Baby with her." - Alexandra in a letter to her brother Ernst, written December 12, 1895
On December 17, 1895, a new nursemaid, a Mrs. Inman, hand-picked by Queen Victoria, arrived at the palace to help with Olga, and neither Nicholas nor Alexandra liked her. It meant that the baby would have to be moved to her own room in the upstairs nursery, and both parents were used to having her in their room with them.
"Dear Alix was in a state, because the arrival of the new English nanny will entail some changes in our family life: our daughter will have to be moved upstairs, which is a pity and rather a bore!" - from Nicholas's diary, written December 17, 1895
"Yesterday a nanny arrived from England, whom we do not particularly like the look of — she has something hard and unpleasant in her face and looks like a stubborn woman. In general she's going to be a lot of trouble and I am ready to bet that things are not going to go smoothly. For instance, she has already decided that our daughter does not have enough rooms, and that, in her opinion, Alix pops into the nursery too often. How do you like that? It's all very boring, especially when the first apple turns out to be rotten." - excerpt from Nicholas's letter to Georgy, written December 18, 1895
"Today our daughter was moved upstairs to the nursery — May God bless her!" - from Nicholas's diary, written December 18, 1895
"I am not at all enchanted with the nurse, she is good & kind with Baby, but as a woman most antipathetic, & that disturbs me sorely. Her manners are neither very nice, & she will mimic people in speaking about them, an odious habit, wh. would be awful for a Child to learn — most headstrong, (but I am too, thank goodness). I foresee no end of troubles, & only wish I had an other." - Alexandra in a letter to her brother Ernst, written January 9, 1896
The New Year of 1896 brought more firsts for baby Olga.
"At breakfast our little darling is brought to Alix; after she has been fed, she is placed on the sofa, and here she starts to exhibit a desire to speak, and makes all sorts of prolonged noises through her lips." - from Nicholas's diary, written February 21, 1896
"From today our daughter is being dressed in little short dresses!" - from Nicholas's diary, written March 10, 1896
"Baby is flourishing and kisses her beloved Grandmama. I hope she can go out as soon as it gets a little warmer. Everything here reminds me so much of when she was born, and it is so strange to see her such a big, fat little creature, laughing and cooing away. Whilst we have our breakfast I give her hers. She weighs now a little more than Irina, but is of course not as long." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Marie Feodorovna, written April 17, 1896
Irina was Olga's cousin and Xenia's daughter, who was born in July 1895.
"Alix and the baby are doing extremely well, thank God, and look wonderful: our little daughter gets rounder and chubbier." - excerpt from Nicholas's letter to Marie Feodorovna, written April 27, 1896
On April 29, Mrs. Inman left:
"Today the unbearable English nanny left; what a relief to be rid of her at last!" - from Nicholas's diary, written April 29, 1896
A Miss Coster, sister to the nurse Xenia had for Irina, arrived on May 2 to replace the not at all missed Mrs. Inman. Regardless of the nanny, Alexandra carried on making sure Olga was being taken care of her way.
"The dear, merry little thing is such a comfort to me, when one feels sad & depressed. ... Baby begins taking other food besides now 3 times a day & has a salt bath every morning according to my wish, as I want her to be as strong as possible having to carry such a plump little body." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Ernst, written July 12, 1896
Above: Olga's cousin, Irina Alexandrovna.
That summer and autumn, Nicholas and Alexandra went on a grand tour of Europe, and they took Olga along, because all their relatives wanted to see her. The Imperial family made state visits to France, Britain, Austria, Denmark and Germany. The whole journey, Olga rode in her own carriage with her nanny. She was very adaptable and constantly smiling, with the nurse taking her little hand and having her wave and blow kisses to the crowds. During the visit to France in October, they greeted her with shouts of "Vive le bébé!", "Vive la Grande Duchesse!", and even "Vive la nounou!" — "Long live the baby", "long live the Grand Duchess", and "Long live the nanny". They nicknamed Olga "la Tsarinette", and a polka song was dedicated to her.
Above: Nicholas, Alexandra and Olga with Marie Feodorovna and the Danish royal family at Fredensborg Palace in Denmark.
Above: Olga with her Danish cousins, the Princess Margaret and the Princes Axel, Aage, Viggo and Erik of Denmark.
On September 22 (N.S.), 1896, Nicholas, Alexandra and Olga arrived at Balmoral Castle in Scotland to visit Queen Victoria.
Above: Balmoral Castle. Photo courtesy of Stuart Yeates via Wikimedia Commons.
Above: Nicholas, Alexandra and Olga with Queen Victoria and the future King Edward VII, year 1896.
"The sight of the Imperial baby moved every female heart in the crowd, and there was an animated display of pocket handkerchiefs." - the Leeds Mercury newspaper report on the visit, published September 26, 1896
The old Queen was overjoyed to see her great-granddaughter, and just as in France, Olga quickly became the toast of Britain.
"The dear Baby was then brought in, a most beautiful child & so big."
"Only dear Alicky breakfasted with us & the dear sweet Baby was brought in."
"The dear fat beautiful Baby was brought in as usual, towards the end of luncheon & sat playing on the floor with Maurice."
"Went to see the dear Baby in its bath. She is a splendid child & so merry & full of life." - excerpts from Queen Victoria's diary
"The baby is magnificent, bigger than she or Ella ever were, and a lovely, lively grandchild." - Queen Victoria in a letter to the Dowager Empress Frederick, written September 26, 1896
"Oh, you never saw such a darling as she is, a very broad face, very fat, in a lovely high Sir Joshua baby bonnet — but with bright intelligent eyes, a wee mouth and so happy — contented the whole day. ... quite an old person already — bursting with life and happiness and a perfect knowledge how to behave." - Lady Lytton, lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria
"The tiny Grand Duchess takes very kindly to her new surroundings, and it is said that the moment she saw her great-grandmother she delighted that august lady by adopting her as her first and most willing slave." - the Yorkshire Herald newspaper report, published October 2, 1896
It was during this stay that Olga began to take her first steps, and her two year old cousin David, the future King Edward VIII, took her by the hand, and soon the two babies toddled across the drawing room while holding hands. Queen Victoria noted their friendship and called it "la belle alliance", and the British press even jokingly claimed there was an informal betrothal.
Above: Edward, Prince of Wales and future King Edward VIII, with his mother, Mary of Teck, then Princess of Wales, in 1896.
Above: Olga as a toddler, year 1896.
After more visits, the Romanovs returned home to Tsarskoe Selo in October-November 1896, and Olga celebrated her first birthday.
"I rejoice at seeing your lovely chubby daughter, particularly as it will be fun to see them [Olga and Irina] together. Isn't she heavy, though. ...
We hope that you will bring your little one to Gatchina on the 14th, so that we can see them together!!
We both embrace you warmly, although I cannot press your little daughter to my breast, as it would be difficult in my condition! However, I kiss her fat little cheeks!" - excerpts from Xenia's letter to Nicholas, written November 4, 1896
"Before tea we went into the nursery. Nicky and Alix sat in the play pen and played with their daughter! She is a splendid, huge little girl, and seems to have got prettier, taller and even fatter! She was too sweet with us!" - entry from Xenia's diary, written November 20, 1896
"As you already know, our daughter has not been very well; for no obvious reason she suddenly developed a fever, which lasted about a week but is now, thank God, over. We thought she was cutting her teeth, but nothing has happened yet." - excerpt from Nicholas's letter to Grand Duke Sergei, written November 25, 1896
On December 10, 1896, it was reported in the New York Times that Nicholas had accepted the receipt of a song, Little Blue Pigeon, which was a lullaby dedicated to Olga.
"Baby is growing & tries to chatter, the beautiful air gives her nice pink cheeks. She is such a bright little Sunbeam, always merry & smiling." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Ernst, written March 26, 1897
Upon the return home, Alexandra was already pregnant with another child. During this pregnancy, she was constantly anxious about if it would be another girl, and the thought obsessed her. The baby was born on May 29 (N.S. June 10), 1897 at Peterhof Palace. She was smaller than her sister, at just eight pounds, but the forceps were needed once again. When Alexandra came out from the effects of the chloroform, she sensed that she had given birth to a girl, and she immediately began to cry hysterically out of fear of how Russia would react to the news of a second daughter.
But she eventually calmed down, and she loved her new daughter just as much as Olga.
"The second bright happy day in our family life: at 10.40 in the morning the Lord blessed us with a daughter — Tatiana. Poor Alix suffered all night without shutting her eyes for a moment, and at 8 o'clock went downstairs to Amama's bedroom. Thank God this time it all went quickly and safely, and I did not feel nervously exhausted. Towards one o'clock the little one was bathed and Yanyshev read some prayers. Mama arrived with Xenia; we lunched together. At four o'clock there was a Te Deum. Tatiana weighs 8¾ pounds and is 54 centimetres long. Our eldest is very funny with her." - entry from Nicholas's diary, written May 29, 1897
Despite being only eighteen months old and having once been the center of attention, by all accounts Olga was never jealous of her new sister. In fact, the two became inseparable.
"Our little daughters are growing, and turning into delightful happy little girls. ... Olga talks the same in Russian and in English and adores her little sister. ... The cossacks, soldiers and n****** are Olga's greatest friends, and she greets them as she goes down the corridor. Little Maria and Dmitri often come to see us and romp around endlessly with Olga." - excerpt from Nicholas's letter to Marie Feodorovna, written November 3, 1897 (I have censored out the word "negroes", as it is now mostly considered pejorative.)
Indeed, Olga loved to talk with the soldiers and guards:
"There was a tall young German officer in the Guards, and he used to ask the Grand Duchess Olga for a doll; a little tiny one that he could keep in his pocket and play with while he was on guard would give him much pleasure, so he declared. Poor little Olga Nicolaivna did not know if he was joking or in earnest. I told her I was sure the doll would give him much pleasure, and that it should be a very small one. She presently brought me a couple of very tiny dolls dressed as boys, one minus a foot, the other without an arm. I said I thought it would be better to give unbroken dolls, and she replied, 'Yes, but these are boys and he is a man, I am afraid he would not like a little girl dollie.' I then told her to ask him when she saw him.
Next morning the doll was put into her pocket and in the course of our walk we met Captain S., who immediately began to reproach her for having forgotten how lonely he was and what company a little doll would be to him. She plunged her hand into her pocket and produced the doll, holding it behind her back. 'Which would you rather have,' she said seriously, 'a boy or a girl doll?' He answered, quite seriously, 'A little girl doll would be like you, and I should love it very much, but a boy would be very companionable.' She was quite delighted and gave him the doll, saying, 'I am glad, I was so afraid you would not like the girl.' He put the doll away most carefully.
Shortly afterwards the young officer went for his holidays. When he returned, the first day he saw the little Grand Duchess he began as formerly to beg for a doll. She said reproachfully, 'Is it possible you have already broken the nice little doll I gave you?' With great tact he explained that the little doll was lonely all by itself, and wanted a companion, and that it did not matter if it was broken; so another dollie was carried about for several days till she met him again and gave it to him." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
Above: Olga and Tatiana.
Above: Olga's cousins, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich and Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna the Younger.
Above: Olga.
In August 1897, Olga was reunited with the French President Felix Faure on his state visit to Russia, and he let her sit on his lap and was also allowed to hold the baby Tatiana. The president had brought presents just for Olga: a leather trunk with her initials and coat of arms on it, with three French baby dolls inside with their own little dresses. One of them was a talking doll, which would say: "Bonjour ma chère, petite mama! As-tu bien dormi cette nuit?" ("Good morning, my dear little mommy; did you sleep well last night?")
Already it was becoming clear that Olga had a precocious personality:
"... When she saw me, [Olga] said, 'What are you?' in English, and I said, 'I am Princess Baryatinsky!' 'Oh but you can't be,' she replied, 'we've got one already!' The little lady regarded me with an air of great astonishment, then, pressing close to her mother's side, she adjusted her shoes, which I could see were new ones. 'New shoes,' she said. 'You like them?' — this in English." - from My Russian Life (1923), written by Princess Maria Baryatinskaya
Above: Felix Faure, president of France from 1895 until his death in 1899. He saw the toddler Olga two times, once in October 1896 and the last time in August 1897.
Above: Olga and Tatiana.
Above: Olga and Tatiana.
On February 2, 1899, the day of the feast of the Purification of the Virgin, a new nanny came: the Irish woman Margareta Eagar. She would serve as nanny to the Grand Duchesses until 1904, and she wrote of them in her memoirs and elsewhere.
Miss Eagar arrived at the Winter Palace, and after resting, Alexandra took her to see Olga and Tatiana:
"... I saw my future charges, who were beautifully dressed, in honour of the festival, in transparent white muslin dresses trimmed with Brussels lace, and worn over pale-blue satin slips. Pale-blue sashes and shoulder ribbons completed their costumes. The little Grand Duchess Olga was at this time over three years of age. She was a very fine child, and had large blue-grey eyes and long golden curls. The Grand Duchess Tatiana was a year and a half; a very pretty child, remarkably like her mother, but delicate in appearance." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
On June 14 (N.S. June 26), 1899, another daughter was born: Maria. At first Olga and Tatiana were jealous. They resented her and were always cruel to her, until one day in 1901 she fought back.
"She was constantly held up as an example to her elder sisters. They declared she was a step-sister. Vainly I pointed out that in all fairy tales it was the elder sisters who were step-sisters and the third was the real sister. They would not listen, and shut her out from all their plays. I told them that they could not expect her to stand that kind of treatment, and that some day they would be punished.
One day they made a house with chairs at one end of the nursery and shut out poor Marie, telling her she might be the footman, but that she should stay outside. I made another house at the other end for baby [Anastasia], then a few months old, and her, but her eyes always kept travelling to the other end of the room and the attractive play going on there. She suddenly dashed across the room, rushed into the house, dealt each sister a slap in the face, and ran into the next room, coming back dressed in a doll's cloak and hat, and with her hands full of small toys. 'I won't be a footman, I'll be the kind, good aunt, who brings presents,' she said. She then distributed her gifts, kissed her 'nieces,' and sat down. The other children looked shamefacedly from one to the other, and then Tatiana said, 'We were too cruel to poor little Marie, and she really couldn't help beating us.' They had learned their lesson — from that hour they respected her rights in the family." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
Above: Olga and Tatiana with Maria.
Above: Olga and Tatiana with Maria.
On June 5 (N.S. June 18), 1901, a fourth and final daughter, Anastasia, was born. At the same time, Olga was in bed, seriously ill with typhoid fever, so much so that when taken to see her, Tatiana did not recognise her.
"She had been ailing for a few days, but the weather was unusually hot for the time of the year, and we thought that might be the cause and that the cooler air of the seaside would probably be beneficial to her, so the journey was not postponed. But when we arrived at Peterhoff she was very ill, and had to be put to bed at once. She lay there through five long weary weeks. I nursed her day and night, and at one time she was so ill that I feared she would not recover; but thank God she did. She wearied to see her sister Tatiana, and was very pleased when the doctor said Tatiana might pay her a visit for just five minutes. I went down and fetched her to see Olga. She stood by the side of the bed and conversed in a most amiable manner to the little sick sister. I was rather surprised at her manner, and when the five minutes were up, told her I must take her down to the nursery again. When she got outside of the door, she exclaimed: 'You told me you were bringing me to see Olga and I have not seen her.' I told her that the little girl in bed was indeed her sister. She cried with great grief. 'That little pale thin child is my dear sister Olga! Oh no, no! I cannot believe it!' She wept bitterly at the change, and it was difficult to persuade her that Olga would soon be herself again." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
Above: Olga and sisters with Margareta Eagar.
Above: Olga with her sisters. Different versions of the same photo.
Above: Olga holding Anastasia. Photo courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
"To keep the children quiet, I made them think of things and then guess them. Olga always thinks of the sun, clouds, sky, rain or something belonging to the heavens, explaining to me that it makes her so happy to think of that." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Nicholas, written August 31, 1902
Olga made her first confession during Lent 1903.
As she grew older, Olga became famous for her sensitive, kind heart and great compassion for others, which often surprisingly went to the villain or anti-hero of a story, and she also had a strong sense of logic and justice, and these tied in with her blunt honesty, which we will go over immediately after this:
"On one occasion I told Olga the story of Joseph and his brethren. She was deeply interested, and exclaimed, 'What a shame!' I said, 'Yes; it was indeed a terrible shame for them to be so jealous and so cruel to their young brother.' She exclaimed, 'I mean it was a shame of the father. Joseph was not the eldest, and the beautiful coat should have been given to the eldest son; the other brothers knew that, and perhaps that was why they put him in the pit.' Explanations were useless; all her sympathies were given to Reuben. She was angry with King David because he killed Goliath, and said, 'David was much younger and smaller, and poor Goliath never expected him to throw stones at him.' 'Jack the Giant Killer' gave her no pleasure; it upset her idea that might was right."
"Lately she was reading some little stories from English history; she read about the English cutting off the Welsh Prince Llewellyn's head, and sending it to London. She was awfully shocked, and read the story again. Then she exclaimed, 'Well, it was a good thing he was dead before they cut off his head; it would have hurt him most awfully if he was alive.'"
"The Grand Duchesses Olga and Tatiana Nicholaivna were fond of listening to stories. On one occasion Tatiana told Olga a story, the end of which was as follows: 'So my little girl and my niece went into the wood and a big wolf ate my little girl, so she went to heaven.' Olga was horrified at such theology. 'Oh no!' she cried; 'she could not have gone to heaven, because the wolf ate her, and God does not allow wolves to go to heaven. She is walking about the wood inside the wolf.'"
"Once there was a cinematograph exhibition for the children and some friends. One picture showed two little girls playing in a garden, each with a table before her covered with toys. Suddenly the bigger girl snatched a toy from the little one who, however, held on to it and refused to give it up. Foiled in her attempts, the elder seized a spoon and pounded the little one with it, who quickly relinquished the toy and began to cry. Tatiana wept to see the poor little one so ill-treated, but Olga was very quiet. After the exhibition was over she said, 'I can't think that we saw the whole of that picture.' I said I hoped the end of it was that the naughty big sister was well punished, adding that I thought we had seen quite enough as I had no wish to see anything more of such a naughty girl. Olga then said, 'I am sure that the lamb belonged at first to the big sister, and she was kind and lent it to her sister; then she wanted it back, and the little sister would not give it up, so she had to beat her.'" - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
Above: Olga.
But Olga could also be very stubborn, moody, disobedient and demanding, and she was often very outspoken, blunt and brutally honest, saying things without thinking of the effect her words and/or tone had on others; and she had a hot temper.
"While we were in Moscow the Empress thought she would like to have the children's portraits painted, so an artist was engaged to paint them. They were aged at this time four years, two and a half years, and two months. He began by taking innumerable photographs of the children, then he made a collection of all existing likenesses, and then found he could not paint from photographs. He explained to me that it would not be artistic to do so. I begged him to remember what babies they were, and to work from photographs. But, no! even to paint their frocks he insisted upon them sitting to him for three or four hours each day. Of course the poor children got very impatient, and one day the little Grand Duchess Olga lost her temper, and said to the artist, 'You are a very ugly man, and I don't like you a bit.' To my amazement he was exceedingly displeased, and replied, 'You are the first lady who has ever said I was ugly, and moreover, I'm not a man — I'm a gentleman!' He could not understand why I laughed." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
As a very young girl, Olga was often confused at other people's behaviour, anything that fell outside of what she was used to, and she interpreted idioms literally.
"One day during Eastertide we were out driving on the Nevski Prospect, and the little Grand Duchess Olga was not good. I was speaking to her, trying to induce her to sit down quietly, when suddenly she did so, folding her hands in front of her. In a few seconds she said to me, 'Did you see that Policeman?' I told her that was nothing extraordinary, and that the police would not touch her. She replied, 'but this one was writing something; I was afraid he might have been writing 'I saw Olga, and she was very naughty.'' I explained that this was very unlikely, and she reminded me, rather reproachfully, that one day, some time before, she had seen a drunken woman arrested in the street, and had wished me to tell the police not to hurt her. I had refused to interfere, saying that the woman was naughty and the police quite right in taking her. I now explained that one had to be quite big and very naughty indeed before the police would take one to prison. On returning home she made particular inquiries as to whether a policeman had come while she was out. When she went to see her parents that afternoon she recounted the whole story to her father, telling him that I said it was quite possible to live without going to prison. She then asked her father if he had ever been a prisoner; the Emperor answered that he had never been quite naughty enough to go to prison. Her remark then was: 'Oh! how very good you must have been, too.'"
"She came home one day and told me 'the priest prayed for mama and papa, and Tatiana and me, the soldiers and the sailors, the poor sick people, and the apples and pears, and Madame G.' I exclaimed at this last, so she said: 'But I heard them say 'Marie Feodorovna.'' I said I thought they meant her grandmama. She said, 'No, Amama is called Amama, and your Majesty, but not Marie Feodorovna.' I said 'and also Marie Feodorovna,' but she now replied 'no one has more than two names.'"
"Darmstadt is a well-built town, with clean open streets and nice shops. We took the children to a toy shop, and they were told that they might choose what they liked for themselves, and also for relations and friends at home. Olga looked at the things, and finally chose the very smallest she could find, and said, politely, 'Thank you very much.' Vainly the shop people showed her more attractive toys; she always replied: 'No, thank you; I don't want to take it.' I took her on one side and asked her why she would not buy the toys. I said that the people would be very sad if she would not take more, and that she could not leave the shop without buying more. So she said: 'But the beautiful toys belong to some other little girls, I am sure; and think how sad they would be if they came home and found we had taken them while they were out.'"
"I was reading 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'Through the Looking-Glass' to them lately, and she was horrified at the manners of the queens. 'No queens,' she said, 'would be so rude.'"
"Shortly after I first went to Russia the little Grand Duchess Olga was very naughty. I said to her, 'I am afraid you got out of bed with the wrong foot foremost this morning.' She looked a little puzzled, but said nothing. Next morning, before getting out of bed, she called me and asked which was her right foot. I showed her, and she most carefully descended on it. 'Now,' said she, 'that bad left foot won't be able to make me naughty to-day; I got out on the right.'" - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
Above: Olga.
Because of her status as the daughter of the tsar and her sheltered life, Olga was completely innocent of certain concepts and how to do certain things that "ordinary" people take for granted. For example, in 1909 during a trip to Cowes in England, Olga went into a shop with Tatiana when she realised that she couldn't buy anything because she didn't know how to, and she had never been taught how to use money or even seen money exchanged; and it happened again when they visited the Gostinny dvor shops years later during the war. The same went for the rest of her sisters. Alexandra treated her daughters more as a group than individuals and infantilised them, dressing them in matching outfits and still calling them "girlies" even when they were teenagers; and they even reinforced the group mentality themselves, signing their collectively written letters as OTMA, an acronym they formed from the first letters of their first names. And it was noted by some that even as teenagers and young women, the girls still talked and acted like children in some ways and that they were still innocent in a way that was worrying at their age, although they were actually not as isolated as some have been lead to believe.
"Though she is in some things advanced beyond most children of her age, in others she is far behind them. This arises, of course, from her very sheltered life.
On one occasion the milliner brought them new hats, with which she was greatly pleased; she told me she thought Madame B. was the very kindest woman in the world. 'She went all the way to Paris,' she said, 'and brought us a present of those beautiful hats.' I explained that it was madame's business, and that the hats had been bought, not given as a present. She looked a little puzzled, and then said, 'I am afraid you are making a mistake; you did not give her any money, and I know she did not go to mama for it.'"
"Her only knowledge of shops and shopping was derived from the toy and sweet shops in Darmstadt. One day she asked me why the Americans spoke English, not American. I told her the story of the Pilgrim Fathers, and described how they built houses and shops, and so made towns. She was exceedingly interested and inquired, 'Where did they find the toys to sell in the shops?'"
"When I read about Alice's journey by railway she was exceedingly amused, and thought it very funny that she had not a compartment to herself. I told her in travelling each person took one ticket and occupied just one seat in the train, and told her some tickets cost more than others, and the highest-priced tickets meant a better place in the train.
She listened and said, 'And when you travel can anyone with the same kind of ticket you have get into the same carriage as you do?' I told her, 'Yes.' So she said, 'If I were you, I should take a whole compartment for myself.' I said, 'But you forget that these other people might object to me, and say, 'I won't sit beside that person.'' 'Oh no,' said she. 'Everyone in the whole world would be glad to sit beside you.'" - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
Above: Olga and Tatiana.
Above: Olga and Tatiana. Photo courtesy of TatianaZ on Flickr.
But despite her naivité, Olga was very intelligent. She loved to read and wanted to learn. Her favourites other than schoolbooks were novels and poems, and as a young woman, she also read newspapers and therefore was very aware of the political climate in the country. Olga also had a talent for music, and she sang and played piano beautifully. At this point in our story, still a little girl, she spoke English and Russian fluently, although she spoke the latter better than the former, as Russian was, needless to say, her first language; and her written English was full of grammar and spelling errors, despite her best efforts. As a young girl, Olga spoke English with an Irish accent due to Miss Eagar's presence, as did her sisters, and so in 1905 and 1908, English tutors Charles Sydney Gibbes and John Epps were brought in to "correct" this.
"One day the arithmetic master, a professor of algebra from one of the universities, wished Olga to write something; she asked his leave to go in to the Russian master, who was teaching little Tatiana in the next room. He said she could go, but asked her what she wanted to say to him. She told him she could not spell 'arithmetic.' He told her how this difficult word was written, and she exclaimed, with great admiration, 'How clever you are! and how hard you must have studied to be able, not only to count so well, but to spell such very long words!' She thought me a marvel of education, and confided in her music master that no one in the whole world knew so much as I did; she thought I knew everything, except music and Russian." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
In November 1903, the eight year old Olga had her first experience with death firsthand when her cousin, Princess Elisabeth of Hesse and by Rhine, (who was also known in the family as Ella) suddenly died during a stay at Spała in what is now Poland. The two girls, who were born eight months apart (Ella was older), were very close; and Ella seemed to have premonitions of her own death, which Miss Eagar noticed:
"One evening when the game was laid out, Miss W., Princess Ella's English nurse, said to me, 'I should so much like to show my baby this, it would interest her.' We got blankets and shawls and prepared a warm little nest for her in the window seat, and brought her from her bed, wrapped in a dressing-gown and shawl, to see the wonderful sight. She was quite delighted, and everyone came to the window and talked to her through it for a minute. Next morning the Grand Duchess Olga was disposed to grumble at having been left in bed all night, and said to me, 'Ella is only eight months older than I am, and Miss W. took her up to see it all, and you left me in bed, like a baby.' The little Princess said so sweetly, 'Oh! dear Olga, don't be angry, you will often see it again, but I shall never see it.' She so often made use of this expression, 'I shall never see it again,' that I sometimes wonder if she had any premonition of approaching fate." - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
On November 16, Ella complained of a sore throat, and it came as a shock when the doctor said that she was dying of heart failure. As the day turned into a night which dragged on, Ella panicked, asked to see Anastasia, and asked for a telegram to be "immediately" sent to her mother, Princess Victoria Melita. By morning, Ella was dead. An autopsy found her cause of death to be typhoid fever, believed to have been caused either from eating from a poisoned dish meant for her uncle Nicholas or from drinking water from a contaminated stream.
Above: Ella.
Above: Olga and Tatiana with Ella.
Above: Olga and sisters with Ella, year 1903. Photos courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
Olga and her sisters were deeply affected by their cousin's sudden death.
"My children talked much of cousin Ella and how God had taken her spirit, and they understood that later God would take her body also to heaven.
On Christmas morning when Olga awoke, she exclaimed at once, 'Did God send for cousin Ella's body in the night?' I felt startled at such a question on Christmas morning, but answered, 'Oh no, dear, not yet.' She was greatly disappointed, and said, 'I thought He would have sent for her to keep Christmas with Him.'" - from Six Years at the Russian Court (1906), written by Margareta Eagar
On July 31 (N.S. August 12), 1904, Olga's brother Alexei was born. Russia finally had an heir to the throne. She became his godmother at his christening, which was the first official ceremony she and her sisters attended, wearing miniature Russian court dresses with kokoshniki headdresses. It was soon discovered that Alexei had hemophilia, a rare and at that time terminal genetic disease in which clotting factor is absent in the affected individual's blood, causing even minor injuries to result in profuse bleeding, unimaginable pain, and potentially death. It is not known when or how Olga and her sisters were told about their brother's illness. Because he was the heir to the throne, starting at the moment of his birth, Alexei took precedence over his sisters, who, despite their very young ages, never resented him and instead felt a need to protect him from accidentally injuring himself; and their already sheltered life became even more so.
Above: Olga in court dress and kokoshnik on the occasion of her new brother's christening.
Above: Olga and Tatiana in court dress, year 1904.
Above: One of the court dresses worn in the above photo.
In 1904, Olga began to write in the first of many diaries, the last of which she stopped writing in at the time of the revolution and her father's abdication in 1917, and she also burned some of her diaries. Unlike what we today would expect to be written in diaries, these diaries were meant for one to write a brief account of one's day in a cold, matter-of-fact way rather than to write one's thoughts and feelings. Olga wrote all her diaries mostly in the intended format, although emotions inevitably found their way into some of the entries.
"Hello, dear diary! This is my first entry. And the record is joyful. We have happiness in our family; finally, the long-awaited brother was born — Alexei. The whole family is incredibly happy. But Russia is the most pleased, today a huge crowd welcomed Mama with Alexei in her arms." - Olga's first diary entry, written 1904
Above: Olga with Alexei, year 1905. Photo courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
Above: Olga, year 1906.
Above: Olga and Tatiana, year 1906.
Above: Olga and sisters, year 1906.
Above: Olga and sisters with Alexei, year 1906.
Above: Olga.
Above: Olga with family on her grandmother's yacht the Polar Star, year 1907.
Above: Olga with siblings, year 1907.
Above: Olga, year 1907.
In 1905, a young Swiss man named Pierre Gilliard arrived to teach Olga and her siblings French. As their liking for him grew, the children nicknamed him Zhilik. He wrote his first impressions, descriptions and memories of Olga in his memoirs.
"Olga, the eldest of the Grand-Duchesses, was a girl of ten, very fair, and with sparkling, mischievous eyes and a slightly retroussé nose. She examined me with a look which seemed from the first moment to be searching for the weak point in my armor, but there was something so pure and frank about the child that one liked her straight off."
"The eldest, Olga Nicolaievna, possessed a remarkably quick brain. She had good reasoning powers as well as initiative, a very independent manner, and a gift for swift and entertaining repartee. She gave me a certain amount of trouble at first, but our early skirmishes were succeeded by relations of frank cordiality.
She picked up everything extremely quickly, and always managed to give an original turn to what she learned."
"I well remember how, in one of our first grammar lessons, when I was explaining the formation of the verbs and the use of the auxiliaries, she suddenly interrupted me with:
'I see, monsieur. The auxiliaries are the servants of the verbs, it's only poor 'avoir' which has to shift for itself.'"
"She read a good deal apart from her lessons. When she grew older, every time I gave her a book I was very careful to indicate by notes in the margin the passages or chapters she was to leave out. I gave her a summary of these. The reason I put forward was the difficulty of the text or the fact that it was uninteresting.
An omission of mine cost me one of the most unpleasant moments in my professional career, but, thanks to the Tsar's presence of mind, the incident ended better than I could have hoped.
Olga Nicolaievna was reading 'Les Miserables,' and had reached the description of the battle of Waterloo. At the beginning of the letter she handed me a list of the words she had not understood, in accordance with our practice. What was my astonishment to see in it the word which is forever associated with the name of the officer who commanded the Guard. I felt certain I had not forgotten my usual precautions. I asked for the book to verify my marginal note, and realised my omission. To avoid a delicate explanation I struck out the wretched word and handed back the list to the Grand-Duchess.
She cried, 'Why, you've struck out the word I asked papa about yesterday!'
I could not have been more thunderstruck if the bolt had fallen at my feet.
'What! You asked your...'
'Yes, and he asked me how I'd heard of it, and then said it was a very strong word which must not be repeated, though in the mouth of that general it was the finest word in the French language.'
A few hours later I met the Tsar when I was out walking in the park. He took me on one side and said in a very serious tone:
'You are teaching my daughters a very curious vocabulary, monsieur....'
I floundered in a most involved explanation. But the Tsar burst out laughing, and interrupted:
'Don't worry, monsieur. I quite realised what happened so I told my daughter that the word was one of the French army's greatest claims to fame.'"
"Olga Nicolaievna did not fulfil the hopes I had set upon her. Her fine intellect failed to find the elements necessary to its development. Instead of making progress she began to go back." - from Thirteen Years at the Russian Court (1921), written by Pierre Gilliard
Above: Olga and Tatiana.
Above: Olga and Tatiana with Pierre Gilliard, year 1912.
Gilliard also described the close bond that Olga and Tatiana shared:
"... The two sisters were passionately devoted to each other. There was only eighteen months between them, and that in itself was a bond of union. They were called 'the big pair,' while Marie Nicolaievna and Anastasia Nicolaievna were still known as the 'little pair.'" - from Thirteen Years at the Russian Court (1921), written by Pierre Gilliard
Alexandra's ladies-in-waiting and other people at court also gave their descriptions of Olga:
"The eldest, the Grand Duchess Olga Nicolaevna, was fair and tall, with smiling blue eyes, a somewhat short nose, which she called 'my humble snub,' and lovely teeth. She had a remarkably graceful figure and was a beautiful rider and dancer. She was the cleverest of the sisters, and was very musical, having, her teachers said, an 'absolutely correct ear.' She could play by ear anything she had heard, and could transpose complicated pieces of music, play the most difficult accompaniments at sight, and her touch on the piano was delightful. She sang prettily in a mezzosoprano. She was lazy at practising, but when the spirit moved her she would play by the hour."
"Olga was perhaps the cleverest of them all, her mind being so quick to grasp ideas, so absorbent of knowledge that she learned almost without application or close study. Her chief characteristics, I should say, were a strong will and a singularly straightforward habit of thought and action. Admirable qualities in a woman, these same characteristics are often trying in childhood, and Olga as a little girl sometimes showed herself wilful and even disobedient. She had a hot temper which, however, she early learned to keep under control, and had she been allowed to live her natural life she would, I believe, have become a woman of influence and distinction. Extremely pretty, with brilliant blue eyes and a lovely complexion, Olga resembled her father in the finesse of her features, especially in her delicate, slightly tipped nose." - from Memories of the Russian Court (1923), written by Anna Vyrubova
"Olga Nicolaevna was very straightforward, sometimes too outspoken, but always sincere. She had great charm, and could be the merriest of the merry. When she was a schoolgirl, her unfortunate teachers had every possible practical joke played on them by her. When she grew up, she was always ready for any amusement. She was generous, and an appeal to her met with immediate response. 'Oh, one must help poor so-and-so. I must do it somehow,' she would say. ...
Olga Nicolaevna was devoted to her father. The horror of the Revolution told on her more keenly than on any of the others. She changed completely, and all her bright spirits disappeared."
"Olga Nicolaevna was hot-tempered and would sometimes turn suddenly cross when she was offended." - from The Life and Tragedy of Alexandra Feodorovna (1928), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
"She was a most amiable girl, and people loved her from the moment they set eyes on her. As a child she was plain, at fifteen she was beautiful. She was slightly above middle height, with a fresh complexion, quantities of light chestnut hair, and pretty hands and feet. She took life seriously, and she was a clever girl with a sweet disposition." - from The Real Tsaritsa (1922), written by Lili Dehn
"Olga, in 1912, was already seventeen, but she still had the ways of a 'flapper'. She was a blonde; with a face typically Russian in its curve, and a charming complexion and teeth that made her very pretty. Fraulein Schneider said she was 'as good as an angel'." - from At The Court of the Last Tsar (1935), by A. A. Mossolov
"In the strict sense of the word, one cannot call her beautiful, yet her being beams with such femininity, such youth, that she seems more than beautiful. The more you look at her, the more charming and appealing her face becomes. It is illuminated by a light from within, it grows lovelier because of her bright smile and the way she laughs, throwing her head back a little, showing off a whole straight row of pearly snow-white teeth. Her beautiful, gentle hands handle any job with ease and cleverness. She is so fragile and gentle as she bends with particular love and care over every soldier's shirt that she sews. Her musical voice, her graceful movements, her lovely, thin little figure — it is the essense of femininity and friendliness. She is so bright and joyful. I remember the words of one of her teachers: Olga Nikolaevna has a crystal soul." - Sophie Ofrosimova
"The Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna had the lightest hair in the family. She had beautiful blue eyes. All her personality was seen in her eyes. She was straight, just, honest, simple, sincere, and kind. She was easily irritated and her manners were a little harsh. She was a good musician. She had a talent for music. She was very modest. She liked simplicity and did not pay much attention to dress. Her morals reminded me of those of her father. She was very religious and it seems to me that she loved her father more than anyone else." - Charles Sydney Gibbes
Like the rest of her family, Olga was indeed very religious, and their strong faith was a major part of their everyday life. The family attended services at the Znamenie church every morning. There were countless icons on the walls of the pink bedroom Olga shared with Tatiana, and aside from schoolbooks, novels, poetry and newspapers, she also read the Bible and books on religion. During the family's house arrest and captivity in Ekaterinburg, Olga expressed sadness at no longer being allowed to go to church.
Olga and her siblings spoke Russian with each other and their father, French with Gilliard, and English with their mother. She and Tatiana also knew a bit of German, but they spoke it with difficulty. Although their father had learned Danish from his mother, he does not seem to have ever taught it to his daughters or son.
In private, they called their parents "Mama" and "Papa", but in public called them "the Emperor" and "the Empress". Despite their social status and position, they were not spoiled and were raised very simply. Olga and her siblings slept on hard camp cots (unless they were ill), took cold baths every morning, got dressed themselves, made their own beds, ate plain food, and the younger sisters wore hand-me-downs inherited from each elder girl, and all four girls were friendly, curious and devoted to each other. During their lifetimes, very little was known about them by the public, and the formal photos of them in their white dresses conveyed an image of angelic purity, dutifulness and innocence.
Olga was known to be less concerned about her appearance than were her sisters, but like them, she did have a favourite Coty perfume, hers being "Rose Thé". Because of the morals of the time and their strict mother, they never wore makeup.
The girls were very Russian in their ideals and outlook on life, and their only foreign visits other than when Olga as a baby and the then-only child accompanied her parents on their 1896 European tour were to Germany and only ever once to England and Romania. They had a special friend in their young aunt, Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, who would take her nieces for a girls' day out on Sundays, taking them into St. Petersburg and having parties at her townhouse for all the teenagers.
Above: Olga Alexandrovna.
Above: Painting of Olga and Tatiana's bedroom in the Alexander Palace.
Above: The younger Olga and sisters.
The niece Olga did not often see her mother, who often lay in bed or on sofas, incapacitated by migraine headaches or heart pains, the latter of which she ranked from mild to severe on a scale of one to three; and during these almost constant periods of illness she refused to come out of her rooms or to allow the girls to come in. Alexandra used these "laid-up" days as opportunities to write letters to her daughters in which she gently but firmly reminded them to behave themselves, and she especially had to give Olga these letters. The girls felt genuinely upset whenever their mother was ill and couldn't see them, and they told her in their letters how much it distressed them, they clearly felt a longing for motherly affection, encouragement and advice from her, and they profusely apologised for bad behaviour. Contrary to this being a fear reaction to their "control freak" mother, the reason for their almost desperate apologies is that these letters were often written at times in the Russian Orthodox religious calendar when one was expected to atone for one's sins.
"So sorry that never see you alone Mama dear, can not talk so should trie to write to you what could of course better say, but what is to be done if there is no time, and neighter can I hear the dear words which sweet Mama could tell me."
"Precious Mama sweet. How did You sleep? & how is Your heart? I am so sorry not to see You."
"Hope you are not feeling too bad."
"Mama dear, feel better."
"How tiresome and sad You are feeling not well." - excerpts from Olga's letters to Alexandra
Because Olga was the eldest, Alexandra expected her to set a good example for her younger siblings, and she often admonished her for being rude, lazy and demanding. Olga was the only one of the children to have "bad manners" and could become very irritable and introverted when upset; and she often talked back to and even yelled at her mother when irritated, and Alexandra didn't know what to do with her. This led to them having a strained relationship during Olga's teenage years and young adulthood.
"Try to be an example of what a good little obedient girlie ought to be. You are the eldest and must show the others how to behave. Learn to make others happy, think of yourself last of all. Be gentle and kind, never rough not rude. In manners as well as in speech be a real lady. Be patient and polite, try to help sisters in every possible way."
"Girlie mine, you must remember that one of the first things is to be polite and not rude, neither in manners nor in words. Rude words in the mouth of little children is more than not nice. Be always thoughtful and frank. Listen to those who are older than you. Remember above all to always be a good example to the little ones ... They are small and don't understand things so well, and will always imitate the big ones. Therefore you must think of every word you say and what you do.
Be particularly polite to all the servants and nurses. They look after you so well.
Think of Mary, how she has nursed you all, how she does her very best for you, and when tired and feels not well you must not add by making her nervous. Listen to her, be obedient and always kind. ... You are big enough to understand what I mean."
"You are growing very big — don't be so wild and kick about and show your legs, it is not pretty. I never did so when your age or when I was smaller and younger even." - excerpts from Alexandra's letters to Olga, written in January 1909
"It is sometimes not a bit easy with Mary, because she is with out reason angry and gets cross for nothing." - excerpt from Olga's reply letter, written on January 12, 1909
On the other hand, Olga had a much easier relationship with her father. He often confided in her and vice versa, and they would go on long walks together.
Above: Olga with her parents.
Above: Olga with siblings, year 1909.
Olga's deep emotional sensitivity and affective empathy, her hot temper and irritability, her strong intellect and love of reading, the severity of her anxiety and depression during the war years and her consequent nervous breakdown and "acting out", her extroversion and sociability along with the contrasting tendency of becoming introverted and "withdrawn" when upset, her "rough manners", outspokenness, blunt honesty and unintentional insensitivity, her stubbornness, confusion toward other people's behaviour and intentions, her preference for sameness and inability to cope with stress, her childhood propensity to interpret idioms literally, her strong sense of morality and justice and her logical way of thinking suggest that Olga might have had Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism that affects social skills and impairs regulation of emotions such as anxiety, anger and sadness; and I have theorised that her mother Alexandra may also have been on the autism spectrum. Autism is believed by most to be hereditary, and not every autistic person has to have every trait of it. For example, and in one that is relevant to Olga and Alexandra in relation to my theory of their possible autism (see my blog on her), one autistic person can be petrified of parties because of the noise, large amount of people present, and the need to socialise, whereas another autistic person can genuinely enjoy parties for those same reasons.
Because of Alexei's hemophilia, in 1907 Olga was brought into contact with Grigori Rasputin, a holy man from Siberia who seemed to be able to heal her little brother from his life-threatening bleeding episodes. Alexandra taught her daughters to call Rasputin "Our Friend" and to confide in him, which they all gladly did. He would often come into the children's rooms to talk with them about religious matters and to say their prayers with them, and they regarded him as a wise teacher.
"My precious friend! We often remember you, how you visited us and talked to us about God. It's hard without you: I have no one to turn to about my worries, and there are so very many of them. Here is my torment. Nikolay is driving me crazy. I only have to go to the Sophia Cathedral and I see him and could climb the wall, my whole body shakes ... I love him ... I want to fling myself at him. You advised me to be cautious, but how can I be when I cannot control myself? ... We often go to Anna's. Every time I wonder whether I might meet you there, my precious friend; oh if only I could see you there again soon and ask your advice about Nikolay. Pray for me and bless me. I kiss your hands. Your loving Olga." - Olga's letter to Rasputin, written in November 1909. The "Nikolay" she refers to was one of the officers, whom she had a crush on.
But outside the nursery and the palace, and outside his devoted following of aristocratic women, Rasputin was seen as anything but holy, for he had a reputation for being a drunk and a sexual predator. Alexandra knew about these accusations, but her faith in Rasputin was so unshakable that in her mind they were tantamount to blasphemy, and she absolutely refused to believe them. But because of the nature of the accusations, her strict morals, and out of her obsessive desire to keep her daughters innocent for as long as possible, she drilled them to never mention or talk about Rasputin with anyone. But despite this effort, rumors began to circulate claiming that Alexandra and Rasputin were having an illicit affair and that the infamously weak-willed Nicholas was letting Rasputin take over the governing of Russia, which was satirised in dirty jokes and political cartoons. Even the most outlandish rumours were generally accepted as fact. They were of course not true, but respect for the imperial family dramatically plummeted with each passing day; and in 1910, one of the maids, Sofia Ivanovna Tyutcheva, who had felt horrified at the fact that Rasputin was allowed to see the children in their nightgowns, was fired after requesting that he be banned.
Above: Rasputin.
Above: Rasputin with Alexandra, the children and a maid.
Above: Olga, year 1910.
On November 3/15, 1911, Olga turned sixteen, and there was a grand party held at Livadia Palace in honour of the occasion. At this party, because of her age, Olga was now considered a young lady. She wore a long, pink dress and her hair up for the first time, and her parents gave her a diamond and pearl necklace, their customary gift whenever one of their daughters turned sixteen. She was made honourary colonel of the 3rd Elizavetgradski Hussars regiment, and was given a feminised version of the regiment's blue, gold and red uniform made specially for her. Olga was very proud of having her own regiment, and she signed some of her letters to her father as "Elizavetgradets". The regiment even had a song written in her honour:
"We Hussars are not of foil,
We are all of damask steel.
How we value Olga's name,
Our white cloak and our flag of fame!"
Above: Olga in court dress and kokoshnik, year 1911.
Above: Olga in the uniform of her 3rd Elizavetgradski Hussars regiment.
Above: Olga with some men of her regiment.
Above: Olga and her father, in uniform and surrounded by the men of her regiment.
Above: Olga's uniform.
Above: Olga on her sixteenth birthday.
But it was also in 1911, a few months before her birthday, that Olga had her first experience with violence, and Tatiana was there to witness it as well. Nicholas often took his daughters out to see operas at the theaters. On this particular night, they were in Kiev, and were watching a performance of Tsar Sultan, when, during the second intermission, they suddenly heard the sound of two gunshots. Tatiana, who was standing outside the door of the outer box and had seen what had happened, tried to block the door to stop her father and older sister from leaving the room. But they ran past her and looked out. In one of the orchestra seats was the Prime Minister Pyotr Stolypin, who had been shot in the chest by an assassin and was bleeding from the wound. He looked up at Nicholas while making the sign of the cross, and he died five days later. Both girls, especially Tatiana, were shaken by this experience. She cried, horrified, and both she and Olga had trouble sleeping that night.
Olga also had a close bond with her brother. On one occasion, when he was in trouble, Alexei went to her, saying he was "Olga's boy". Once in March 1912, Alexandra was angry with Olga for failing to control Alexei, who had behaved badly during lunch with a guest.
"Recently, on the 14th, my wife had lunch with their Majesties, and was embarrassed by the behaviour of the Heir. ... He wouldn't sit up, ate badly, licked his plate and teased the others. The Emperor often turned away, perhaps to avoid having to say anything, while the Empress rebuked her elder daughter Olga, who was next to her brother, for not restraining him. But Olga cannot deal with him." - diary entry of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich, written March 18, 1912
As the author of this post understands from personal experience (although without siblings), Olga finding herself unable or unwilling to say no to her much younger brother and getting blamed is another indicator that she might have been autistic.
Olga's favourite historical figure was her own ancestor, Empress Catherine the Great, who ruled Russia as Empress in her own right from 1762 until her death in 1796. Once, when Alexei got upset with his valet and yelled at him, Olga, who was reading nearby, looked up and told her brother: "Catherine II always praised in a loud voice and scolded in a low one. Remember that."
Above: Olga carrying Alexei.
Above: Olga and Alexei.
1913 was the year of the Romanov tercentenary, and at one of the grand parties held at the Assembly Hall of the Nobles to celebrate, Olga and Tatiana joined their parents in dancing at their first ball together.
"... The Grand Duchess Olga, fair and graceful in a soft white dress, danced every dance and enjoyed herself as simply and whole-heartedly as any girl at her first ball.
I have a vivid recollection of her, standing on the steps leading down from the gallery to the floor of the ball-room, her hair shining golden against the crimson velvet curtains, her cheeks softly flushed, her blue eyes very bright, while one or two of her cousins, and several other young officers, all clamoured for her attention." - from Recollections of Imperial Russia (1923), by Meriel Buchanan
Above: Olga in court dress and kokoshnik, year 1913.
Above: Olga and Tatiana, year 1913.
People began to notice how much Olga had grown into a young woman, and because she was now considered to be of a marriageable age, the question of suitors soon came up.
Also in 1913, Olga developed her first truly serious crush, and because it could never go beyond being just that — a crush, she became prone to melancholy. The object of her crush was Lieutenant Pavel Voronov, an officer on the family's yacht the Standart. Olga and her sisters had grown up being surrounded by soldiers and officers. They had innocent crushes on the younger ones and flirted with them, and they learned the names of the men's wives and children. But for Olga, this crush was something new. She was deeply in love with Pavel. She even danced with him at her eighteenth birthday party, but because she was his superior socially, it would be impossible for them to be together. She was obsessed with Pavel, she lived for every sighting and mere mention of him and often wrote about him in her diary, where she referred to him as S., her abbreviation of the Russian words sokrovishche, solntse and schaste — treasure, sunshine and happiness. In 1914 Pavel got married, and Olga was sorry to lose him.
"It's so abominable without my S., awful." - excerpt from Olga's diary entry, September 1913
Above: Olga with Pavel Voronov and another officer. Her protective father Nicholas stands guard in the background.
Also in 1914, there was some discussion of a marriage between Olga and Crown Prince Carol of Romania, but the stubborn Olga wouldn't have it. She didn't like Carol, and she didn't like the idea of leaving her country and family behind.
Carol visited Russia with his parents, Crown Prince Ferdinand and Crown Princess Marie of Romania, on March 15, 1914. That same day, the 18 year old Olga completed her mandatory ten years of schooling. Her final exams covered the history of the Orthodox Church, the Russian language, Russian history, general history, geography and English, French and German. She had learned all these subjects at home, but she and her sisters went to the Nicholas II Practical Institute for physics lessons.
While her Romanian cousins were visiting, Olga escorted Carol, whom she called Karlusha, everywhere: to church, walks around the Alexander Park, dinner with her grandmother at Anichkov Palace, and a ball at the Smolny Girls' Institute. Olga didn't like how Carol looked, and her sisters didn't like him either. Both sets of parents were disappointed but not willing to give up just yet. They decided to have Olga and her family visit the Romanians at Constanța in June so that she and Carol could have a second chance.
"One day at the beginning of June when I was alone with Olga Nicolaievna she suddenly asked me a question with that confident and disingenuous frankness which was all her own and the legacy of the relations which had been established between us when she was quite a little girl:
'Tell me the truth, monsieur: do you know why we are going to Rumania?'
In some confusion I replied:
'I believe it's a courtesy visit. The Czar is going to return the visit the King of Rumania paid him some time back.'
'Oh, that's the official reason... but what's the real reason? I know you are not supposed to know, but I'm sure everyone is talking about it and that you know it...'
As I nodded in assent, she added:
'All right! But if I don't wish it, it won't happen. Papa has promised not to make me... and I don't want to leave Russia.'
'But you could come back as often as you like.'
'I should still be a foreigner in my own country. I'm a Russian, and mean to remain a Russian!" - from Thirteen Years at the Russian Court (1921), written by Pierre Gilliard
Above: The Romanovs with their Romanian cousins at Constanța, June 14th, 1914. Carol stands in the back row between his sisters Elisabeth and Ileana while Olga holds the baby Prince Mircea on her lap.
When the two young people met at Constanța on June 14th, Olga struggled to make small talk with Carol; his reputation as a ladies' man would have made for an unhappy marriage, and she and her sisters were more interested in playing with his infant brother Mircea whilst Alexei taught the other children, Prince Nicolai and Princess Ileana, how to spit grape pips into a lemonade bowl. The then Crown Princess Marie found Olga's manners too brusque and her broad, round face "not pretty", which Carol didn't like either. The Romanian family were further alarmed because Olga and her sisters were all sunburnt from their stay at Livadia and were thereby seen as ugly. The girls had actually made a secret pact to intentionally let themselves get sunburnt to show solidarity with Olga.
"... Olga is a tomboy without any manners and her surroundings always second rate. She never sees the real society because it bores her to put on better manners." - excerpt from the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg's letter to Queen Marie of Romania, written January 27, 1914
Among Olga's other suitors were Crown Prince Alexander of Serbia, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, and "David" — Edward, Prince of Wales, now all grown up. Nicholas and Alexandra had married for love and hoped the same for their children; they would never have forced Olga to marry someone she didn't like. Alexandra herself was apprehensive about the possible political repercussions of her daughters marrying high-profile princes, saying these words to Sergei Sazonov:
"I think with terror ... that the time draws near when I shall have to part with my daughters. I could desire nothing better than they should remain in Russia after their marriage. But I have four daughters, and it is, of course, impossible. You know how difficult marriages are in reigning families. I know it by experience, although I was never in the position my daughters occupy ... The Emperor will have to decide whether he considers this or that marriage suitable for his daughters, but parental authority must not extend beyond that."
Above: Alexandra with her daughters.
Above: Olga with her parents and sisters on the Standart.
Above: Olga, year 1914.
But all talk of Olga's marriage prospects ended for good when World War One began and Russia entered the conflict in September 1914; and her father took command of the army himself and so was often away at headquarters. Charities and committees were set up in the names of Olga and Tatiana, dedicated to helping refugees and children orphaned by the war. At that time it became known as the Great War, because not since the Thirty Years War in the 17th century had there been a war that was so widespread, had so many countries involved, and had such a high death toll. The Russian soldiers, who were more than ill-equipped for the fierce fighting and conditions at the front, were killed and/or wounded by the thousands.
In response to the high numbers of casualties, women from all levels of society formally trained to become nurses for the Red Cross, and Olga, along with Tatiana, Alexandra and Anna Vyrubova joined them. They trained at an annexe and soon got their certificates declaring them certified war nurses, and they also wore the nurses' uniform, which in those days in Russia resembled a nun's habit. They trained and worked at the annexe of the Court Hospital on Gospitalnaya Ulitsa (literally "Hospital Street"), and at the Feodorovsky Infirmary; and they also worked and/or visited at their mother's other hospitals in Moscow, Vitebsk, Novgorod, Odessa, Vinnitsa, etc. The Catherine Palace's reception rooms and the summer dachas of the aristocracy were also converted to military hospitals, and even the family's physician, Dr. Eugene Botkin, who later died with them, housed seven wounded soldiers in his own home.
Above: A poster for one of Olga's committees set up during World War One.
Above: Olga as a nurse.
Above: Olga, Tatiana and Alexandra as nurses.
Training went like this: Alexandra, Olga and Tatiana were to observe Vera Gedroitz, a Lithuanian noblewoman working as a doctor, in the operating theater, then they would graduate into assisting in operations. The first thing they learned was how to dress wounds. The days were especially long for Tatiana, who, being two years younger than Olga, was still working on her education. So after Tatiana's morning lesson, she, Olga and Alexandra went to Znamenie to pray in front of the miracle-working icon of the Mother of God before going to the annexe at about 10:00 a.m. to put on their uniforms and get to work.
Every morning Olga and Tatiana changed the patients' dressings as well as rolling bandages, preparing swabs, boiling the thread for stitching, and machining bed linens. At 1:00 in the afternoon they went home to eat lunch and, weather permitting, went for a short walk, a bike ride or went driving in a carriage with their mother. Then they would go back to the hospital to spend time with the wounded. They also went to Dr. Gedroitz at 6:00 in the evening for a lesson in medical theory, and then the girls went back to the hospital again to sterilise instruments for the next day. Training lasted until October 1914.
Despite their young ages of 18-then-19 and 17, Olga and Tatiana were not spared from seeing the horrors of war for the first time. They were exposed to all the gore of the operating room. They and Alexandra and Anna assisted with operations to extract shrapnel, amputations, etc. But they also talked with their patients and comforted them with their words and kindness and pity. They were real nurses who did their work passionately. They were Sisters of Mercy, as nurses were called in Russia. Photographs and illustrations of the girls and their mother in their nurses' uniforms could be seen in newspapers, magazines and shop fronts.
Above: Olga and Tatiana with a patient. Photo courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
Above: Olga and Tatiana with their mother and Anna Vyrubova in nurses' uniforms.
Olga and Tatiana found it much easier and better to interact with the young, wounded soldiers than with the dukes and princes who were their social equals. After their afternoon break, they went back to the hospital and chatted, sewed and knitted clothing for refugees and orphans, played billiards and checkers and photographed themselves together with their patients and the other young nurses; and Maria and Anastasia, who at ages 15 and 13 were too young to become nurses, visited the intensely grateful soldiers in the hospitals.
During the weeks of training under Dr. Gedroitz, Olga and Tatiana befriended their supervisor, Valentina Chebotareva, who was herself the daughter of a military doctor. They also became close friends with another nurse, Varvara Vilchkovskaya, whom they nicknamed Bibi. The women would often take breaks in the corridors, and those patients who could walk would go sit with them and tell them stories. Olga and Tatiana shared candies with their new friends and regularly brought fresh fruits and flowers from the palace greenhouse. In the evenings the wounded soldiers gathered and sang songs around a piano, which the girls loved. After coming home, they would get on the telephone to have one last chat with their favourite patients.
What with how sheltered they had been, Olga and her siblings were deeply curious about "the outside life", and the war, of all things, was what gave them an opportunity to experience it.
Above: The girls and their mother with wounded soldiers. Photos courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
Although Alexandra had assigned her two eldest daughters important public roles in the war effort, Olga and Tatiana hated going to and chairing at meetings of their committees. These meetings were very formal, and the sisters had always been extremely uncomfortable with formalities and hated them. At home the servants always addressed them as Olga Nikolaevna and Tatiana Nikolaevna, but at meetings they were addressed as "Your Imperial Highness", which mortified them both.
"It's only at our hospital that we feel comfortable and at ease." - Olga to one of her patients
Namely, Olga was vice-president of the Supreme Council for the Care of Soldiers' Families and of Families of the Wounded and Dead, and Tatiana was president of Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna's Committee for the Temporary Relief of Those Suffering Deprivation in Wartime.
In the meantime, Olga and her sisters and mother often visited Nicholas at Headquarters, where Alexei would also often visit to be with his father and their soldiers. Everyone missed them when they left, and Nicholas and Alexei got many loving letters from the family while they were away.
Aside from being very religious, Olga was also very patriotic. Because of the war, the already strong anti-German sentiment in Russia grew even stronger, and this shows in one incident in Olga's life. One day in July 1915, while talking with the other nurses about a friend's wedding, Olga said she understood why the groom had to keep his grandmother's German ancestry a secret. She blurted out: "Of course he has to conceal it. I quite understand him, she may perhaps be a real bloodthirsty German." Olga's thoughtless comment hurt her mother, who had been born in Germany.
Olga also disapproved of her cousin by marriage, Prince Felix Yusupov, taking advantage of a law that allowed men who were only sons to avoid having to enter military service at a time when the other Romanov men and the soldiers Olga took care of were out fighting in the war.
"Felix is a downright civilian, dressed all in brown, walked to and fro about the room, searching in some bookcases with magazines and virtually doing nothing; an utterly unpleasant impression he makes — a man idling in such times." - Olga in a letter to her father, written March 5, 1915
Above: Olga in ancient Russian costume.
Above: Olga and Tatiana accepting donations for their committees.
Above: OTMA and Alexei.
As was mentioned earlier, Alexandra infantilised her daughters even as they were growing into young women and becoming seriously interested in young men their age. She still saw their crushes on their favourite patients as something purely innocent, cute and nothing more than a passing girlhood amusement even though Olga and Tatiana were now at the age where that kind of thing becomes deeper and much more serious. Among the handsome young men in their care were Olga's first favourites, Nikolay Karangozov, an Armenian cornet in the Cuirassier Life Guards, and David Iedigarov, a Georgian Muslim who served as captain in the 17th Nizhegorod Dragoons. There were several other dark, mustached, literal Caucasian men among the hospital patients. Tatiana's favourite patient was Dmitri Malama, a Kuban Cossack of her Uhlan regiment, and he even gave her a French bulldog puppy named Ortipo. Tatiana kept Ortipo in her shared bedroom, and at night Olga was annoyed by the puppy's loud snoring. The girls always missed their favourite patients when they recovered and left the hospital.
Above: Olga with a patient.
But none of Olga's favourites had as roomy a place in her big heart as did Dmitri Shakh-Bagov, a Georgian adjutant in the Life Grenadiers of the Erevan Regiment. Olga nicknamed him Mitya, and her crush on him was comparable to the one she had on Pavel Voronov two years earlier. She was in love with everything about him, and Mitya reciprocated Olga's feelings. He had a short stay at the hospital, leaving and returning to his regiment on June 23, 1915. But then he returned to the hospital on August 2 after having been badly wounded during a reconnaissance mission near Zagrody in eastern Poland, and despite the sad circumstances of their reunion, Olga was ecstatic to have her Mitya back.
Naturally, she wrote about and mentioned him almost constantly in her diary:
"Spoke to Mitya on the telephone." - written August 22, 1915
"... Spoke with Mitya, he is sad for some reason, poor little thing.... Lord help us." - written August 30, 1915
"Looked at a [photo] album with Mitya and others. Stopped by [to see] everyone and [sat] on the balcony with Mitya for a minute. ... Spoke with Mitya." - written September 12, 1915
"Mitya had a physical, later he came back and almost the entire time we sat together, played checkers and did just plain nothing. He is so good, Lord knows. ... In the evening talked with Mitya. Unexpectedly he received instructions to go to the Caucasus for about two days. So sad." - written December 30, 1915
"Today is the first anniversary of Mitya's being wounded." - written May 19, 1916
"Around 12 o'clock Boris Ravtopulo and Mitya arrived. Both with completely shaved heads. Awfully nice to see them." - written May 20, 1916
"Mitya and Borya came before 1 o'clock. ... Saw Mitya from the Silayevs' window. ... After 9 o'cl. Mitya and Boris came over." - written June 4, 1916
"[I] long to see Mitya." - written September 12, 1916
"Sat upstairs with Mitya's mama and [I] was so happy, at least it felt like a part of him. Later had tea with them and ate various pastries brought over from the Caucasus. In the evening — to the infirmary. Bibi got a telegram from Mitya." - written September 28, 1916
"Saw Mitya's mama from the window." - written September 29, 1916
"Met Mitya's mama." - written October 2, 1916
"Rode by Mitya's mama's [house] but she wasn't home, we did see her yesterday morning and today. ... Was talking in the front room with Kulnev when suddenly Mitya walked in. So awfully happy to see him with a part in his hair." - written October 15, 1916
"Saw Mitya from the window." - written October 23, 1916
"In the evening we 4 — to the infirmary. Played the piano in the sitting room. Mitya came in toward the end." - written October 28, 1916
"Mitya and [his] mama evidently went to the Caucasus, since the shutters [of their house] were closed." - written October 31, 1916
"Mitya sent Bibi a telegram from Mozdok." - written November 3, 1916
"Heard absolutely nothing from Mitya." - written November 30, 1916
"Today Mitya is 24 years old. Lord save him." - written February 9, 1917
Valentina Chebotareva also chronicled Olga's great love as well as her general nursing days in her own diary:
"And how can we know what kind of drama Olga Nikolaevna lived through. Why is she melting, losing weight, looking pale: in love with Shakh-Bagov? A little but not seriously."
"Shakh-Bagov has fever, is in bed. Olga Nikolaevna sits by his bed constantly."
"Vera Ignatieva told me that Shakh-Bagov, while intoxicated, displayed Olga Nikolaevna's letters. That's all we need! Those poor children!" - written December 4, 1915
"The grand duchesses changed in front of Varvara Afanasievna, and chose their jewels. Olga said: 'Only such a shame that no one can have the pleasure of seeing me, only Papa!' complete absence of brashness. One, two — [her] hairdo is ready (no hairdo), [she] did not even glance in the mirror." - written December 7, 1915
"Olga assures [us] that she dreams of remaining a spinster, while Shakh-Bagov is reading on her palm that she will have twelve children." - written January 8, 1916
"From Olga it sadly slipped out: 'One cannot say anything on the telephone, [someone is always] listening in, they will report it, but not the truth, will lie like they did recently.' What exactly she was referring to [I] did not have the chance to ask, but Voikov mentioned something — I never learned the details, evidently the 'special censorship' is in its bloom." - written January 16, 1916
"... [I] was looking through some older memos. Seems [earlier] I missed Olga Nikolaevna's characteristic note 'Dreams of happiness': 'To get married, [to] always live in the countryside, winter and summer, [to] see only good people, no one official.'" - written January 27, 1916
"And plus a letter came from Shakh-Bagov — Olga Nikolaevna threw all her things around from delight, and threw a pillow up on a top shelf. She felt feverish and she jumped around: 'Can someone have a stroke at 20 years old? I think I am having a stroke!' But Varvara Afanasievna declared: 'Young blood is warm; the years pass, and the blood cools off.'" - written February 15, 1916
"Olga Nikolaevna got seriously attached to Shakh Bagov, but it is so pure, naive and hopeless. Strange, unique girl. [She] does not give away her feelings for anything. It is only revealed by a special affectionate timbre in her voice, with which she gives [him] instructions: 'Please hold the pillow higher. Are you not tired? Are you not bored?' When he left, the poor thing sat alone for an hour, with her nose in the sewing machine, and sewed so persistently, determinedly."
"She looked assiduously for the pencil-sharpening blade which Shakh Bagov used on the evening of his departure ... looked for it all morning and was so happy when she found it. She also saved the calendar page from 6th June, the day of his departure." - written June 11 (O.S.), 1916
Others also noticed Olga's love for Mitya:
"The grand duchess Olga Nikolaevna had her very own 'protégé': the sick young ensign from Yerevan — Shakh-Bagov, very sweet and shy like a girl. It was obvious that he was utterly in love with his nurse. His cheeks burned with a bright flame whenever he looked at Olga Nikolaevna." - I. Belyaev
Dmitri Shakh-Bagov disappears from the historical record after 1918, and almost nothing is known about him, although it is believed that he might have been a Georgian Muslim and that he may have been sighted at Zakavkaz in the autumn of 1920, two years after Olga's death.
Above: Olga.
Working in the hospital also meant sadness, and more than once Olga and Tatiana had to deal with having some of their patients pass away despite efforts to save them. Having to deal with crushes on unattainable men, daily working with the gore and horror of the operating theater, and repeatedly watching men die in front of her while also being very much aware of the ever-worsening political climate in Russia, the hatred people had for her parents and the danger she and her family were in had a serious impact on the sensitive Olga, and she suffered a nervous breakdown as a result of all the stress. She became anxious, deeply depressed, irritable and much moodier than usual, to the point where she began physically attacking objects to express her pent-up rage and despair.
"We went as far as the 'caprice' [a pavilion in the Alexander Park] and climbed the stairs, do you know? And as soon as we reached it Olga took her umbrella and rushed furiously at one of the windows and broke three glasses with her umbrella and I broke another window, then Anastasia did the same thing." - excerpt from Maria's letter to Nicholas, written September 5, 1915
"Olga is always most unamiable about every proposition, though may end by doing what I wish. And when I am severe — sulks me." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Nicholas, written March 13, 1916
"Olga is the whole time grumpy, sleepy, angry to put on a tidy dress and not nurse's for the hospital and to go there officially — she makes everything more difficult by her humor." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Nicholas, written April 10, 1916
According to Valentina's diary, Olga also destroyed some items in a cloakroom while "in a rage".
On October 19, 1915 Olga was relieved of her nursing duties at the hospital and assigned office work due to no longer being able to cope with being in the operating theater; and at the same time she also even being given arsenic injections, which was used as a cure for depression and nervous disorders in those days.
"Olga's condition still not famous." - excerpt from Alexandra's telegram to Nicholas, sent October 31, 1915
"Olga only got up for a drive and now after tea she remains on the sopha and we shall dine upstairs — this is my treatment — she must lie [down] more, as goes about so pale and wearily — the Arsenic injections will act quicker like that, you see." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Nicholas, written October 31, 1915
"At the infirmary they injected me with arsenic." - Olga in a letter to her father, written October 29, 1915
"I went to the infirmary twice already and did not do anything but sit with them. But they are still making me lie down again, and Evgeni Sergeyevich [Dr. Botkin] injected me with arsenic daily, from which I stink like garlic a little, which is even less pleasant." - Olga in a letter to her father, written November 7, 1915
"Poor Olga Nikolaevna is really sick — developed severe anemia, they put her to bed for a week, but with permission to come to the infirmary for a half hour for the arsenic injections." - excerpt from Valentina Chebotareva's diary, written October 24, 1915
"Olga within two months was almost too exhausted and too unnerved to continue." - from Memories of the Russian Court (1923), written by Anna Vyrubova
"The Grand Duchess Olga Nicholaevna, especially, had so much overtired herself in the course of the winter that she had grown nervous and anaemic; had to give up actual nursing and only supervised the wards." - from The Life and Tragedy of Alexandra Feodorovna (1928), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
Above: Olga in the office.
Despite Olga's heightened irritability and emotional turmoil during this time in her life, she never lost her sensitive, altruistic heart and the mark of her deeply religious upbringing.
"When Olga Nicolaevna, at the age of twenty, began to have some of her money in her own hands, the first thing she did was to ask her mother to allow her to pay for a crippled child to be treated in a sanatorium. On her drives she had often seen this child hobbling about on crutches, and had heard that the parents were poor and could not afford a long and costly treatment. She had at once begun to put aside her small monthly allowance to go towards paying for the treatment." - from The Life and Tragedy of Alexandra Feodorovna (1928), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
On August 11, 1916, Olga and her sisters had what would be their last formal portrait photographs taken by Alexander Funk in their mother's reception room. The photographs were taken "for giving away to their committees". The girls dressed in satin tea dresses with embroidered panels of roses, pearl necklaces and gold bracelets; and with the exception of Anastasia, who as the youngest was not yet sixteen and still had to wear her hair down, Olga and the rest of her sisters had their hair marcel-waved and put in chignons most likely by their mother's own hairdresser Delacroix.
Above: Olga and sisters, year 1916.
On November 3, 1916, Olga had her 21st birthday, and Alexei gave her a cat that he had found, but circumstances had made it so that she was forced to watch life and love fly by without her.
Although they were still "like children" in some ways, the devout Alexandra felt that the war had caused her daughters to mature a lot emotionally and spiritually, and therefore, on December 11, she took them on a visit to Novgorod. There, they attended a two-hour Mass at the Cathedral of St. Sophia, then visited a hospital, a church museum, another hospital and then a group home for child refugees. Their last stop was the Desyatinny Convent, where Alexandra had been hoping to meet a famous seeress, Maria Mikhailovna.
"Our Friend is so contented with our girlies, says they have gone through heavy 'courses' for their age and their souls have much developed — they are really great dears ... They have shared all our emotions and it has taught them to see people with open eyes, so that it will be a great help to them later in life." - excerpt from Alexandra's letter to Nicholas, written December 6, 1916
"It was very narrow and dark and only one small candle was burning, which immediately went out, so they lit some kind of kerosene lamp without a shade and a nun, her eyes watering, held it. The old woman was lying behind a kind of piece of patchwork that was full of holes on a wooden bed. She had huge iron fetters on her and her hands were so thin and dark, just like religious relics. It seems she is 107 years old. Hair very very thin, dishevelled and her face covered in wrinkles. Eyes bright and clear. She gave each of us a little icon and some communion bread and blessed us. She said something to mama, that it would soon all be over and everything would be all right." - Olga describing the visit to the monastery in a letter to her father
On December 6, 1916, Olga found out from a telegram from her father that she had been made Chief of the Second Kubansky battalion, which made her very "happy and proud".
Above: Olga. Photo courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
Above: Olga with her friend Rita Khitrovo. Photo courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
It was on December 17, 1916 that the Romanovs were told that Rasputin had gone missing; and on December 19, they learned that he had been killed. Even before they were told of his death, Olga and her sisters were so distressed by the news that they huddled together to sleep that night. One of Olga's former suitors, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, and her cousin by marriage, Prince Felix Yusupov, were two of the killers.
"Father Grigori is missing since last night. They are looking for him everywhere — awfully hard. ... Slept all 4 together. Lord help us." - excerpt from Olga's diary entry of December 17, 1916
"Found out for certain that Father Grigori was murdered, most likely by Dmitri and thrown from a bridge by Khrestovsky. They found him in the water. It's so terrible, should not even write." - excerpt from Olga's diary entry of December 19, 1916
Above: Grigori Rasputin.
Above: Olga's cousin, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich.
Above: Felix Yusupov and his wife Irina, Olga's cousins.
Above: Olga. Photo courtesy of Ilya Grigoryev at lastromanovs on VK.
Although she had been taught to see Rasputin as a friend and confidant, as Olga grew older, and also because of her being very aware of the dangerously bad financial and political climate in Russia, she began to doubt that the "holy man" was all good; and she even believed that perhaps it was necessary for him to be removed from the picture, although she was horrified at the brutality of the assassination. She was also embarrassed and indignant because her own relatives were among the killers. Mitya had even said that he would kill Rasputin for Olga if she were to order it.
"Maybe it was necessary to kill him, but not in such a terrible way ... One is ashamed to admit they are relatives." - Olga to Valentina Chebotareva, February 1917
But Olga felt far more troubled that the Russian people hated her father so much, and she couldn't understand it. As a result, her anxiety worsened.
When Rasputin's funeral was held on December 21, Olga did not attend.
"She was by nature a thinker, and as it later seemed to me, understood the general situation better than any member of her family, including even her parents. At least I had the impression that she had little illusions in regard to what the future held in store for them, and in consequence was often sad and worried." - Gleb Botkin
In February 1917, Olga, her siblings, and Anna Vyrubova all fell seriously ill with measles, and Alexandra nursed them all back to health. They all had bad coughs, their temperatures rose very high, and they suffered both headaches and earaches, to the point where Olga also came down with pleurisy, Tatiana became temporarily deaf and Maria became delirious, came down with pneumonia and almost died; but everyone eventually recovered after several weeks. Because of the treatment they were receiving, the girls' hair began to fall out in clumps. To even it out, their heads were shaved bald, and Alexei had his head shaven in solidarity with them.
Above: Olga and siblings with bald heads.
Above: Olga and sisters showing their shaven heads, having taken their hats off when Olga gave the signal. Their French tutor Pierre Gilliard took this photo of them, and when shown to their mother Alexandra, she was shocked and said that her daughters looked like those condemned to die.
Meanwhile, outside in the city, which had been renamed Petrograd in order to distance itself from the German-sounding St. Petersburg, life had grinded to a halt, and anxiety ran high. There were food and fuel shortages, and there were rumours that a revolution would happen very soon. By February 25, there were arson attacks, shopliftings, lynchings, and workers' strikes in the city. But just like Alexandra infantilised her grown-up and nearly grown-up daughters, she also saw the Russian people as being like naughty children in need of discipline. She didn't think the situation in the city was that serious a threat, and she believed that bread rationing would calm them down. On the 27th, the situation escalated into street fights, shootings and bombings. Nicholas was still trapped at headquarters, and at home his children were getting sicker and sicker.
Even from their sickbeds, Olga and her siblings could hear the sound of the shooting in town and were worried about what it could be about.
"When we went to bid the Grand Duchesses good night, I was distressed to find that the firing was distinctively to be heard from their room. Olga and Tatiana did not appear to notice it, but, when their mother had gone, Olga asked me what the noise signified. 'Darling, I don't know — it's nothing. The hard frost makes everything sound much more,' I said lightly.
'But are you sure, Lili?' persisted the Grand Duchess. 'Even Mamma seems nervous, we're so worried about her heart; she's most certainly overtiring herself — do ask her to rest.'" - from The Real Tsaritsa (1922), written by Lili Dehn
Soon Olga's fears were confirmed: a revolution had broken out, and her father had been forced to abdicate his throne, and November 1917 saw the outbreak of the Russian Civil War. Nicholas arrived home on March 9, a week after his abdication. The family was put under house arrest at the Alexander Palace, and their freedoms were restricted. Olga's strong Christian faith greatly sustained her and her family, but even with that, her depression worsened, and she seemed to be prematurely aging and began losing a lot of weight, growing thinner and thinner. By the time of her death, she was "skin and bones".
Above: Olga and siblings in captivity, year 1917.
"You are filled with anguish
For the suffering of others.
And no one's grief
Has ever passed you by.
You are relentless
Only toward yourself,
Forever cold and pitiless.
But if only you could look upon
Your own sadness from a distance,
Just once with a loving soul —
Oh, how you would pity yourself.
How sadly you would weep." - a poem Olga wrote for her mother as a name day present on April 23, 1917
On August 1, 1917, Olga and her family left the Alexander Palace for the final time, never to return. They continued their life in captivity at the Governor's Mansion in the town of Tobolsk in the Ural Mountains. During their time there, the five young people had few amusements. There was no piano in the house, so the musical Olga had to make do with playing cards with her sisters in the evenings, listening to her father read aloud, making gifts for her parents and friends, and making alterations to the few clothes she had been allowed to bring with her. She and her siblings also helped their father to chop and saw logs of wood, and when they looked out the windows, they were amazed to see the indigenous people, such as the Khanty and the Yakuts, going around wearing clothes made of reindeer hide. One of the children's other pastimes was to perform plays, especially during the winter months when they could not go outside. Olga was given the job of writing the scripts for these plays, some of which survive in the archives.
Above: The Governor's Mansion in Tobolsk.
Above: Olga with Tatiana and Alexandra in Tobolsk. This is the last known photo of them together.
Above: Olga with her father and siblings on the roof of the Governor's Mansion in Tobolsk.
Above: One of Olga's handwritten scripts for a play. This one is the script for Yavlenie (The Apparition). Photo courtesy of Helen Azar.
But life in Tobolsk was not all cheerful distractions. Sophie Buxhoeveden described in her memoirs how the family lived there, and Olga also described life in Tobolsk in her letters to friends and relatives.
"The house in which the Emperor lived was fairly large and not too uncomfortable, but was bitterly cold. The temperature outside was only a few degrees warmer than in the Polar Circle, and was only made bearable by the absolute stillness of the air. The Imperial Family were allowed to keep their own servants and cooks, but had to be very economical, as the small supply of money they had brought with them was dwindling. The Bolshevik Government had given the order that they were to be put on soldiers' rations, so they paid for their own fare, which was of the plainest. When their clothes wore out they could not be replaced, as the shops gradually sold all their reserves and no new stocks came in. If sometimes new material appeared on the market it was at a fancy price. As the winter went on the difficulties daily increased. The worst feature was the absence of any reliable news from the world outside. ... Though we got letters now and then, these had to be so carefully worded that they did not say much. ... I saw the Emperor and his children daily from my window, which being on the first floor allowed me to overlook their whole little enclosure. They made paths and shovelled away the snow for exercise." - from Left Behind (1929), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
"Today it is sunny and thawing, while for the first few days of October it was almost hot, it changes so quickly. My brother and sisters have started lessons. I am writing to you in the big hall, where the four of us have tea together. Our brother is playing with his soldiers at a separate table. M. and A. are reading at the window, Mama and Tatiana are playing at something, Papa is reading nearby. They all send their greetings, as do I. All my best wishes. We often remember with Zhilik how we used to torment poor old P.V.P. during lessons, and so many other things." - from Olga's letter to Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov, her former Russian tutor, written October 10, 1917
"Everything is alright with us. The weather is like that in the fall. There isn't much snow and it is not cold. One cannot complain, generally speaking, because the sun comes out almost every day and it is a hot sun too. We go for walks but less than before, and we have nothing to do. There is not enough snow to play in and it is not warm enough to play other games. Our house is very cozy, especially after we received carpets from Tsarskoe. ... At night we all sit together and play various games. Sometimes somebody reads Chekhov aloud, or something else. Some of the stories are very funny." - from Olga's letter to Rita Khitrovo, written October 17, 1917
"The winter is now practically here. There is a lot of snow, and quite cold, 17. We take walks and do the same things, so there unfortunately is nothing new to tell you. The real Siberians bundle up more than we do; many walk around bundled up from head to toe in fur coats. ... When the bright sun is out, regardless of the freeze, it warms you up, especially inside through the window. There are three pots with tsiklamenams, which I got for the 3rd, in the hall there is another unknown little tree, wh. I dug up from the greenhouse, where the chickens that probably belonged to the governor now live. I washed it for a long time bec. it was covered with dust and now I water it occasionally. Usually the leaves remind me to do this, as they start to wilt. I regret that you can't see our house, because it is very comfortable, and we feel right at home here. It's sort of annoying that everyone has different time, here until March they keep changing it, but I can't remember if forward or backwards, and then back again. They don't pay any attention to daylight, I think that the sun always rises at the same time." - from Olga's letter to her aunt Xenia, written November 9, 1917
"I have nothing of interest to tell you, as our life is quiet and monotonous. On Sundays we go to church at 8.30 in the morning, while vespers are held in the hall. The choir are amateurs, their voices aren't bad, only they sing in a concert style, which I can't abide, although many people admire it. They warned us so much about the harsh climate here, yet winter has still not settled in completely. One day there is a frost and a slight wind, the next it's two degrees and everything is thawing and unbelievably slippery. The sunrises are always very clear and beautiful, despite the overcast days. The Irtysh is long since frozen over. I think that is all the news. We were intending to build a snow mountain, but there is still very little snow. Papa usually saws and stacks firewood, while Mama goes out when it is not too cold, otherwise it's difficult for her to breathe. Joy, Ortino and Jimmy are flourishing. We have to spend the whole day chasing the first two out of the yard, where they have a wonderful time in the rubbish tip and eat all sorts of filth." - from Olga's letter to Petrov, written November 23, 1917
"Well, already it is the holidays. We have a Christmas Tree in the corner of the hall which gives off a wonderful smell, but not like the ones at Tsarskoe. It is a special type of tree and is called a 'balsamic fir tree'. It smells strongly of oranges and mandarins and there is always resin flowing down its trunk. We don't have any decorations just 'silver rain' and wax candles, of course these are Church candles as we don't have any other. After dinner on Christmas Eve we distributed presents, for the most part our embroideries. Dividing them up and working out who will get what reminded us completely of the charitable markets in Yalta. You remember how much preparation went on always? The Vigil service was at 10 in the evening and the Christmas tree was lit. It was beautiful and nice. The choir was big and sang well, but like at a concert, and this I do not like. ... I'm writing to you on the huge table in the big hall. My brother's toy soldiers are all over the table. A little way off Papa and the four children are drinking coffee, but mama is not up yet. The sun is shining onto the paper between my right arm. We finally had some snow and it added to our snow mountain." - from Olga's letter to Rita Khitrovo, written December 26, 1917
"How cold it is these days, and what a strong wind. We have just come back from a walk. On our window it is written 'Anna darling', I wonder who wrote it." - from Olga's letter to Anna Vyrubova, written January 2, 1918
"There is much sun, but great frosts also and winds, and very cold in the rooms, especially in our comer room, where we live as before. All are well, and we walk much in the yard. There are many churches around here, so we are always hearing bells ringing." - from Olga's letter to Anna Vyrubova, written February 1918
"We are all well and healthy. The weather is sunny and frosty. In the evening there are many stars. We walk as usual, go riding down the hill and frolic very much in the snow. It's generally all the same. ... So much is written in the papers about the misery that I worry there is no peace. This evening there will be vespers. Pankratov is not with us much, for the time being only the regiment, and it's unknown how long this will continue. We are all busy learning various comedies: English and French." - from Olga's letter to Rita Khitrovo, written February 3/16, 1918
"It was terrifying, knowing from the papers what was happening, and not having so much as any news. For the time being, we are all more or less all right. Here also the Red Guard detachment recently arrived, but for now they conduct themselves evidently quite properly. We were all prepared for communion at the first of the week; we've even been to church three times. But now vespers and liturgy are once again at home. Yes, do you know, Nastenka, Trina, Valya and Tat. as well as all our people have been transferred to us in this house, and everything is firmly under lock and key. Well! So now our house is overcrowded and blocked with people and things. The last days have been chilly and overcast, but all the same, before the sunset the sun came out, as for example at this moment and was nice and warm. Not long ago it was 21 degrees on the balcony, isn't that nice? The snow is melting and the mud in the streets and especially in our little garden is unbelievable. We live in general as before: walking, sitting on the sunny porch, sawing, chopping firewood and so on. When the sun shines everything is good, even if there is nothing to do, otherwise it's boring." - from Olga's letter to Rita Khitrovo, written April 4/17, 1918
While the family were still at Tsarskoe Selo, Nicholas gave Olga a revolver, which she kept hidden in her boot and brought with her to Tobolsk. But after Colonel Eugene Kobylinsky pleaded with her, Olga reluctantly surrendered the gun before leaving for Ekaterinburg.
Above: Olga chopping wood with her father.
Above: The Grand Duchesses' bedroom in Tobolsk.
Above: Olga pulling Alexei on a sled.
In April 1918, the family was briefly separated when it was decided for the Bolsheviks to move Nicholas, Alexandra and Maria to Ekaterinburg. Maria was chosen because Olga was too depressed and Tatiana was needed to take care of Alexei, who was recovering from a hemophilia attack that left him no longer able to walk and, for the time being, he was still too sick to be moved.
"Your old mother is always with you in her thoughts, my dear Olga. The three of us are constantly talking about you and wonder what all of you are doing. The beginning of the trip was unpleasant and depressing; it was better after we got into the train. It’s not clear how things will be there." - from Alexandra's letter to Olga, written April 18, 1918
"Oh my God, how are you? It is horrible not to be together and to know nothing about you, because what we are told generally is not always the truth. ... May God protect you." - from Olga's letter to her parents and Maria in Ekaterinburg, written May 4, 1918
"XPИCTOC BOCKPECE! Dear beloved ones. We would love so much to know how you celebrated your Easter. Dear Mama, when will we finally be together? May God look after you. The midnight mass and the service afterwards were well done. It was beautiful and intimate. We put on all the side lights, except for the chandelier and there was enough light. The Little One slept during the service and did not participate in the Easter supper and did not even notice that we moved him to his bedroom. Today at 10:30 we gave Easter greetings to everyone and offered eggs. Everyone thanked us, in fact the nuns sang well as a whole, but the Easter hymns were dreadful, in the style of popular dances and at top speed. The candles were beautiful, with the golden stripes and it was for you that we lit them, in turns during the Easter mass, as well as Zina’s candle. There are a lot of eggs, kuliches and paskas, etc. Mama, my little soul, how are things with you? I feel sad – when I think about you – why do we have everything and you, what do you have? Dear and beloved Mama, how I would love to see you and kiss you!! At this moment Klavd. Mikh., Nastenka and the general are with the Little One. Rostovtsov sends his greeting by telegram as well as Kupytch, who writes about Voronezh and remembers the year 1915. We hear the sound of bells all the time. The weather is bad." - from Olga's letter to her parents and Maria in Ekaterinburg, written May 5, 1918
Above: Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia and Alexei at Tobolsk, April or May 1918.
Above: Olga and Tatiana with others.
In May 1918, Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia, Alexei and the remaining servants boarded the Rus steamship that would take them to Ekaterinburg. It was not an easy journey. Olga and her sisters and their ladies were not allowed to close their cabin doors, so they didn't dare undress before going to sleep, and they constantly had to listen to the soldiers getting drunk, swearing and goofing off. Alexandra had written that she, Nicholas and Maria had been aggressively searched upon their arrival at Ekaterinburg, so, while they were still at Tobolsk, Olga and her other sisters sewed jewels into their clothes to prevent them from being confiscated by the Bolsheviks. "Medicines" was the codeword that Alexandra and the children used for these jewels.
"Olga Nicolaevna had also greatly changed. The suspense and anxiety of her parents' absence, and the responsibility she bore when left as head of the house with her sick brother to look after, had changed the lovely, bright girl of twenty-two into a faded and sad middle-aged woman. She was the only one of the young girls who acutely realised the danger that their parents were in." - from Left Behind (1929), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
"By order of Rodionoff everything that was in the Governor's and Korniloff's houses, whether belonging to the Imperial Family or not, was put on board the ship. Rows of the most garish bedroom crockery stood on deck, coming from no one knew where. Olga Nicolaevna was in despair when she saw the archbishop's carriage and horse, which he had lent to take the Tsarevich to the boat, also being taken on board. 'But he will need it. It is not ours, please tell them,' she said. I assured her that my protestations would not help. We were prisoners and had to be passive." - from Left Behind (1929), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
"I saw how little ill-will the Emperor's daughters bore to their gaolers when Khokhriakoff hurt his foot in stepping off a ladder. Remembering the many wounded she had nursed during the war, Olga Nicolaevna was immediately full of solicitude and was anxious to look at his foot and bind it up. He was not a gaoler to her but a Russian sailor. The injury was nothing of importance and the man refused gruffly to have it seen to. I foresaw that he would never accept the aid of any of us, but Olga Nicolaevna was much distressed at not being able to help a human being in pain and worried over the 'poor fellow' all the time." - from Left Behind (1929), written by Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden
During this final journey, the children's English tutor, Charles Sydney Gibbes, took the last ever photos of his young pupils. Although he and Gilliard were released upon arrival in Ekaterinburg, they never saw the Romanovs again. On May 23, Olga and her siblings arrived in Ekaterinburg and were reunited with Maria and their parents. They were now being kept in the Ipatiev House, which during their captivity was ominously referred to as "The House of Special Purpose". As soon as they arrived, their cameras, photographic equipment and phonograph were confiscated, they were not allowed access to their luggage, and they were forbidden to speak any language other than Russian. Their belongings were routinely searched, their money was confiscated, and the guards even tried to forcibly remove the gold bracelets from Alexandra and her daughters. A 14 foot high palisade was built outside the house to prevent the Romanovs from seeing outside and to prevent anyone outside from seeing them, but when this did not work, an even taller palisade was built.
Above: The Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg.
Above: Olga and Alexei in the last photo ever taken of them, while on board the Rus in May 1918. Upon their arrival at the Ipatiev House, their cameras were confiscated.
During captivity in the Ipatiev House, Olga's behaviour changed dramatically. She became withdrawn even from her sisters and spent more time with her sick mother and brother. Her already deep depression and weight loss continued to worsen. The reason for this may be an incident that occurred during the journey to Ekaterinburg: while on board the Rus, Gibbes was locked with Alexei in his cabin as the drunken guards began to harass the Grand Duchesses. They had been being abused by these guards all day, but it reached its peak at night. It is not and will never be known for sure whether or not any of the sisters were ever raped by the guards, but Gibbes did say in his memoirs that "it was dreadful what they did" and that the girls' screams haunted him for the rest of his life. Whatever happened on that night, Olga was the most traumatised by it.
"She was thin, pale and looked very sick. She took few walks in the garden, and spent most of her time with her brother." - Alexander Strekotin, one of the guards at the Ipatiev House
As the weeks went by, the children found that there was even less to do in Ekaterinburg than there had been in Tobolsk. They could not even look out the windows, firstly because the windows had been covered with newspaper and then whitewashed so as to prevent anyone from being able to see anything outside, and secondly and later on because their new jailer, Yakov Yurovsky, threatened that anyone who even went too close to the windows would be shot, and after Alexandra ignored the order, an iron grille was built. Olga and her sisters learned to do the laundry and bake bread themselves, these among their few amusements. Outside of this, their lives were filled with fear, as the often drunk guards used offensive language in the girls' presence and made dirty jokes about their mother, and they even followed the girls whenever they had to use the lavatory.
In June, a new command was installed in the Ipatiev House, headed by Yurovsky, and from then on, the family was forbidden from fraternising with the guards, and the conditions of their imprisonment grew even stricter. The Romanovs were now required to ring a bell every time they had to go to the bathroom, their water supply was strictly rationed, recreation was allowed for only thirty minutes in the garden twice each day (once in the morning and again in the afternoon), and their food rations provided them mostly only black (rye) bread with tea for breakfast and cutlets or soup for lunch. The nuns from the Novo-Tikhvinsky monastery came every day with food for the family, most of which was then stolen by the captors. Olga and her family were not allowed to have visitors or to send and receive letters, and when Princess Helene of Serbia tried to visit them, she was refused entry at gunpoint. They were not allowed to go to the Divine Liturgy at the nearby church, and starting in early June, they no longer received newspapers. The guards, who numbered 300 in total, also set up four machine gun emplacements, drank and smoked, listened to records on the confiscated phonograph, and scratched political slogans and obscene graffiti onto the bathroom wall. But Olga and her family tried to cope with the changes: in the evenings, they would sing hymns to try to drown out the guards singing revolutionary songs in the commandant's office next to the family's bedrooms. On some of these nights, according to some accounts, Olga and her sisters were forced to play the piano and sing along with the guards.
On Sunday, July 14, after suffering months without being allowed to have any religious services, the Romanovs were finally allowed one. The lead priest, Father Ivan Storozhev, was allowed to give the service. During the prayer for the dead, something unusual happened:
"According to the liturgy governing a low Mass, at a determined moment, the following prayer must be read: May the souls of the departed rest in peace with Thy saints. I do not know why he did it, but my deacon, instead of merely reading the prayer, began to chant it. I followed suit, though somewhat irritated at his violation of the canons. We had barely begun when we heard, behind us, the noise of the whole imperial family throwing themselves on their knees.... At the end of the service they all approached to kiss the Cross and the deacon gave the Blessed Bread to both Emperor and Empress.... The deacon and I left in silence.... Suddenly, in front of the School of Fine Arts, the deacon said to me, Do you know, something has happened to them. As his words corresponded exactly to what I was thinking, I stopped and asked him why he thought so. I am sure, he said; they seem so changed, and not one of them sang today. He was right, because for the first time, on July 14, not one of the Romanovs accompanied us by singing." - Father Ivan Storozhev
It was as though the Romanovs sensed that something was going to happen to them.
On Monday, July 15, four women were permitted entry into the Ipatiev House and ordered to scrub and clean the parquet floors. When the guards weren't looking, Olga and her sisters got down and helped the cleaning ladies, telling them that they enjoyed physical work and wished they had more of it to do. It was the last time any outsiders saw the Romanovs alive.
On the night of Tuesday, July 16, while Olga and her family were eating dinner, Yurovsky came in and informed them that 14 year old Leonid Sednev, the kitchen boy and Alexei's playmate, was going to stay with his uncle. The family was unaware of the plan to kill them and were unnerved by the boy's absence. Yurovsky assured them that Sednev would be back soon, but they did not believe him. The Romanovs went to bed at 10:30.
At around midnight on July 17, they were woken up and told to get dressed, under the pretense that there was anarchy in the town, shooting in the streets was to be expected, the family was to be moved for their own safety, and they would wait for their ride in the cellar, where they were to be photographed to prove that they were still alive. Once in the cellar and positioned for the photograph, along with Dr. Botkin, Anna Demidova, Alexei Trupp and Ivan Kharitonov, they were left alone for thirty minutes before Yurovsky came back. Instead of a camera, in came ten other men, armed with pistols. Yurovsky read the order of execution to a stunned Nicholas and family, and the shooting began. It is said that Olga tried to make the sign of the Cross before being shot down during the first round of gunfire, and that the diamonds sewn into the blouses that she and her sisters were wearing caused the bullets to ricochet around the room, seemingly protecting them from the bullets and blades of the bayonets. Eyewitness accounts and analysis of her skull have shown otherwise, that after the first round, Olga saw both her parents and Tatiana be killed in front of her and that she herself died immediately after Tatiana, when Peter Ermakov knocked Olga to the ground and shot her through the jaw, the bullet exiting her forehead. Ultimately, it took 20 gory and horrific minutes to kill everyone. The bodies were then loaded onto makeshift stretchers, put into the truck, and taken into the Koptyaki Forest. There, they were stripped, and the women's bodies were searched for diamonds. Then they were doused with sulphuric acid to render them unrecognisable and dumped into the abandoned Four Brothers mine; but the next day they were exhumed, and nine out of eleven bodies were reburied in Ganina Yama (Ganin's Pit) at the Piglet Meadow. The other two bodies, those of Maria and Alexei, were dismembered and burned before being buried in a smaller pit a few miles away from the mass grave.
Olga was only 22 when she died. In November 1918, she would have had her 23rd birthday.
But Olga's story does not end with her death. In the years and decades immediately following the murders, there were rumours and conspiracy theories claiming that one or more members of the Imperial Family had survived, and a myriad of impostors surfaced claiming to be Olga and her siblings. One of the Olga claimants was a woman named Marga Boodts, who said she was supported by Pope Pius XII and the former Kaiser of Germany, Wilhelm II, who was the real Olga's cousin. But 73 years after the murders, the truth was revealed.
Olga herself was not seen again until July of 1991, when, immediately after the collapse of the Soviet Union, her bones and those of her family were dug up and taken to the Ekaterinburg morgue. DNA testing and facial recognition software (in which photos of the members of the family were superimposed over photos of their skulls) confirmed that these were the remains of the Romanovs. Olga's identity was matched to the body marked as skeleton number 3. On July 17, 1998, 80 years to the day after they died, the remains of Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia and their parents were buried among their ancestors at the St. Peter and Paul Cathedral. The partial, fragmented skeletal remains of Maria and Alexei were found in 2007 and have yet to be buried with their family.
Above: Forensic reconstruction of Olga's face, made by S.A. Nikitin in 1994.
Above: The Romanov family tomb at St. Peter and Paul Cathedral. Photo courtesy of Dennis Jarvis.
In 2000, Olga was canonised in the Russian Orthodox Church within Russia as a passion bearer saint. In Eastern Christianity, a passion bearer is a person who faces their death in a Christ-like manner. Unlike martyrs, passion bearers are never killed for their faith, although they cling to their faith with deep piety and love for God. The Romanovs had previously been canonised as new martyrs by the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad in 1981. Since this time, according to Orthodox believers, the prayers of the family have been responsible for such miracles as healing people from illnesses and converting people to Russian Orthodoxy.
Among Olga's belongings found at the Ipatiev House after her murder was Edmond Rostand's L'Aiglon (The Eaglet), a book about how Napoleon Bonaparte's son remained loyal to his deposed father until his dying day, and this bit of history repeated itself with Olga and her own father.
In a letter from Tobolsk, Olga wrote:
"Father asks to ... remember that the evil which is now in the world will become yet more powerful, and that it is not evil which conquers evil, but only love."
She also copied this poem into one of her notebooks:
"Send us, Lord, the patience, in this year of stormy, gloom-filled days, to suffer popular oppression, and the tortures of our hangmen. Give us strength, oh Lord of justice, Our neighbor's evil to forgive, And the Cross so heavy and bloody, with Your humility to meet, in days when enemies rob us, To bear the shame and humiliation, Christ our Savior, help us. Ruler of the world, God of the universe, Bless us with prayer and give our humble soul rest in this unbearable, dreadful hour. At the threshold of the grave, breathe into the lips of Your slaves inhuman strength — to pray meekly for our enemies."
This prayer from Father Nektarios Serfes is dedicated to Olga:
"O precious Grand Duchess and Passion-Bearer Olga, your life was blessed with prayer, with gracious faith, and undying hope that was shared by others who too found Holy Martyrdom.
Your thoughts and concerns became a deep inspiration, and a means of knowing the true reality of bearing one's Cross, and enduring the persecution spoken of by our Lord.
Your life has given us the desire to take up our Cross with love, and turn to our God who also loves us all.
Your love for Russia and its devout followers of Christ our Lord has opened the Kingdom of Heaven to those who struggle to behold the spiritual beauty of our Loving God.
Pray for us who cry unto you before the Throne of our Gracious God, to forgive us and learn about love. Amen."
Above: The Royal Martyr Grand Duchess Olga.
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