by The Court Jester
February 25, 2005
© Unofficial Royalty 2005

Valentine’s Day was this month, and it set the Jester to wonder about what happened when Cupid’s arrows struck Royal targets. There are several examples in modern history of true love matches: Victoria and Albert, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip, Princess Grace and Prince Rainier, Prince Edward and Sophie and Tsar Nicholas II and Alexandra. But it’s Nicholas’s baby sister Olga who may have lost the most in order to gain the love she so desperately wanted.

On June 1, 1882, all the bells of St. Petersburg rang out to announce the birth of the youngest child of their new Tsar Alexander III and his Empress Marie Feodorovna. Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna Romanov was the only child ‘born to the purple’, and she was a welcome change from the horror of the previous 18 months. Her grandfather Alexander II had literally been blown to pieces by bombs set by assassins. He died in agony in his bedroom at the Peterhof, and as his heir watched his bereft mother weep, and knew with horrible certainty that he was not ready to be king, the giant spark of constitutional reform that that flared in the father, died in the son. Alexander executed the bombers, declared martial law and moved his wife and four children to Gatchina Palace, a 900-room fortress 40 miles outside the capital. Marie had already given birth to Nicholas, Alexander (died in infancy), Georgy, Xenia, and Michael. Marie promptly declared her sickly daughter to be “plain-faced” and set about ignoring her. She and Michael were placed in the care of their loving English nanny Elizabeth Franklin, who never stopped trying to persuade Marie to pay attention to them, especially the shy and tomboyish Olga.

Up until she was six her life was full of lessons, running through the halls of the Palace with Michael, sleeping on a cot in her plain bedroom with her sister, and Christmases full of joy and traveling from home to home as the seasons turned. Then one day in 1888, as the family and retainers were traveling by train to the Caucasus Mountains a mysterious series of explosions sent the train and its passengers, Olga among them, cascading down a hill. Although the car in which they had been traveling was crushed, none of the family was badly hurt. Over two dozen deaths were never explained, but Alexander just knew it was another attempt on the monarchy. From then on security measures were increased and even at her age, Olga was heard to say, “Oh Papa dear! Now they’ll come and murder us all!”

The only place Olga felt free was when the family yachted over to Fredensborg Palace in Denmark. Here she could go into Copenhagen and shop to her heart’s delight, and relatives like the Prince and Princess of Wales, the King and Queen of England and Queen Mary of Greece came to visit. Her parents were in bad shape though. Alexander turned increasingly to the bottle and Marie, prematurely gray, spent most of her time trying to turn him away from it. When Xenia announced her engagement to Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich (Sandro), someone she considered a smarmy ladies’ man, she became almost unbalanced. As their father’s health declined Nicky, instead of preparing himself for kingship, set about finding himself a wife. Princess Alix of Hesse-Darmstadt, Queen Victoria’s favourite granddaughter, was his choice. Xenia and Sandro had planned their wedding for July of 1894 and did not appreciate her brother wanting to get married then too. He was persuaded to put it off to the autumn. Georgy, who smoked heavily and had tuberculosis, which was diagnosed much too late to treat, was too sick to come.

Marie’s tear-swollen eyes were thought to be from happiness, but Olga knew they were in mourning for the daughter who was no longer at her beck and call. Olga knew that she would be the substitute soon enough. Alexander was diagnosed with kidney failure and what today is called congestive heart failure and he died November 1, age 49. He left one-sixth of the world’s population in the hands of his 26-year-old heir, who declared in a panic that he knew, “nothing of the business of ruling.”

Nicholas and Alexandra were married with all due pomp and ceremony less than two weeks after the funeral, which had lasted several days and was attended by the crowned heads of Europe in St. Petersburg. As her son fell more deeply in love with his wife, and her influence over him waned, relations between the now Dowager Empress and her daughter-in-law soured. Xenia had her first child, named Irina, and Nicholas named his first daughter Olga. Nicholas II’s coronation took place on May 14, 1896. As with his wedding, the ceremony was excruciating for both him and his Empress.

As was the custom 400,00 small gift packages were assembled and placed out in Khodenka Field just outside Moscow. Each of the peasants could go up and pick out a gift on a first-come-first-serve basis. As the dawn broke 700,000 people broke through the thin line of Cossacks. They crushed each other as they swarmed across the moats and ditches between them and the packages. Olga later learned that over 1000 had been killed in the stampede. That night, despite urgings from Sandro and his ministers, Nicholas refused to cancel the celebratory French ball. Sensing his weakness, his enemies in the army and in the government began closing in.

After the year of mourning for Georgy, who had died at age 28, Olga reluctantly suffered through her coming-out party. She had earlier decided she was in no hurry to grow up into adulthood. She also had no desire to marry anyone who would force her to leave Russia. But she had to pick a husband fast or another person declared suitable would be chosen for her. Plus she had no desire to become permanently tied to Marie’s apron strings, which she knew would be her inevitable fate.

So at age 19, she declared herself engaged to 33-year-old Prince Peter of Oldenburg. He was related to her through Nicholas I and his mother was a good friend of Marie’s. He owned property in Russia and was a bit of a philanthropist. He was also a hypochondriac, homosexual, inveterate gambler, and a worse choice could not have been made for her than the one she made herself. The negotiated prenuptial agreement consisted of one million rubles plus a 100,000 ruble a year annuity from Nicholas; 50,000 rubles from Peter on the day after the wedding, one million rubles from Georgy’s estate and a complete magnificent trousseau from Marie. They married on July 27, 1901, and he immediately took her to his parents’ home for what turned out to be a pretty unsatisfactory honeymoon. Peter fought with his father about his profligate habits and his mother Eugenia soon became ‘Princess Gangrene’ to Olga. Shortly thereafter all her hair fell out, and she suffered the first of the breakdowns that would haunt her life each time a crisis befell her. There would be many.

While Peter lost her inheritance from Georgy in the roulette parlours of St. Petersburg, and her brother’s grasp on the Romanov dynasty was loosening, Olga lived a lonely life. Peter came for her company when he was inclined, and although he respected her and sought her comfort, they were miserable. They covered this up well in public and managed to fool even Marie. Near the grounds of their summer villa at Ramon was a small village called Olgino. She made friends with the locals and decided to build their own villa called Olgino, which would be a haven for them. The town overlooked the monastery of St. Tihon, and she vowed that she would name her first son after it. The problem was that as Peter’s efforts in this project were decidedly insufficient she despaired of ever having children.

Then in the spring of 1902, Olga attended a review of Michael’s regiment, the Blue Cruiassiers. It was there that she first set eyes on “God Apollo” as his fellow junior officers called him. Nicholai Kililovsky, age 22, was a close friend of Michael’s and she persuaded him to sit her next to Nicholai during lunch, which he did. Before the meal was over Olga was in love.

Nicholai was tall, blond, physically imposing, but neither well educated nor well-spoken. He was an experienced marksman with a love of animals and considerable skill in training Arabian horses. Days later she asked Peter for a divorce. Now how would that look? Ask me again in seven years, said he. Even if Peter had been unfaithful first, there was no legal or moral way out for his wife.

Olga’s clandestine meetings with Nicholai at Michael’s home were becoming dangerous. Peter was too busy hanging out with the guys and losing at craps to notice her absences. He no longer cared about appearances either. When Nicholai was promoted to captain he was posted away for months at a time. By 1906 he was writing to his “dear friend” several times a week. He was attracted to her teasing charm and lively personality. Perhaps to make it up to her for his own sexual indiscretions Peter talked Michael into making Nicholai his personal live-in adjutant. Nicholai was not too pleased to be removed from the field, but Olga was.

With her would-be lover under the same roof, tongues began to wag as they were seen together more often in public. Michael and one of her ladies-in-waiting would often come along as camouflage, but they soon dove into a hot affair of their own that eventually got the lady exiled from Russia. It was also about then that Nicholas and Alexandra came under the influence of one Grigory Rasputin, who was “healing” their hemophiliac son Alexei. Olga distrusted him on sight and when he attempted to seduce her and then stalk her Peter told her to just avoid him. The rest of the family was very leery of him as well, and Marie despaired that Alexandra’s dependence on him was bringing down the dynasty. But they were all powerless to stop it. As long as Alexandra was for him, Nicholas would hear nothing against him.

As 1914 passed she would occasionally ask Nicholas to approve a divorce, but he had no sympathy for divorces or morganatic marriages and she didn’t force the issue. In 1912, Michael had married his twice-divorced mistress Natasha, with whom Olga and Nicholai had been great friends. Nicholas had banished them both. Olga was furious at him for marrying a commoner, and Michael and a spiteful Natasha never forgave her for it. So here she was living with a husband who was indifferent to her and the man she wanted as husband and could do nothing more with than kiss.

A chain-smoking Nicholas continued to ignore the increasing rumours of war. The parties went on and when not socializing he cocooned more and more with his family, and with the ever-present Rasputin. The Russian government and populace did not take Germany’s threats to invade France seriously. Olga was physically and mentally exhausted from the strain of her family’s woes and her own pathetic state. Marie took her to England and while she was at Sandringham and then again in London, she had another breakdown.

The Romanovs celebrated 300 years of rule in 1913, and Olga mourned the death of her beloved nanny Franklin. On July 19, 1914, Germany declared war on Russia. Nicholai’s regiment was posted to the front, and Olga decided to follow him as a nurse. She had set up a small hospital back in Olgino and had learned nursing skills there. She told Peter she was leaving him, and taking nothing more than she could carry in a small suitcase, she put away her diamonds and ball gowns for the last time without the slightest reluctance.

She traveled the 1,550 miles by freight train to Rovno, where Nicholai was posted. Olga and Nicholai’s passion, when he could get to the hospital to see her, was undeniable. Olga was 35 and she wanted to have Nicholai’s children. Her four nieces knew about and supported the relationship. Michael, who had been banished with wife Natasha, returned and had a tense reunion with his sister in 1915, but although a gushing Marie was thrilled with the reconciliation it was not a true one.

All that stood in her way now was Nicky’s approval for a divorce and on a visit to the troops in her hospital he finally told her he would approach the Holy Synod about it. She found a letter in her room after his departure back to the front. In it, he happily gave his consent.

The wedding she had been dreaming of for 15 years took place in the tiny Kievo-Vasilievskya Church not far from the statue of St. Olga in Kiev. One voice in the choir recalls Olga, “rising in the sky like a lark,” as the “slave to God” as she was united in marriage with her Nicholai.

Ironically, the fact that she was now a commoner herself probably saved her life.

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