I am HIH Elizaveta Feodorovna, Grand Duchess of Russia. I was born, however, as Elizabeth Alexandra Louise Alice, Princess of Hesse, on 1 November, 1864. Those close to me always called me Ella. I was named after a famous ancestress, St. Elizabeth of Hungary. I am the second daughter of Princess Alice of Great Britain and Ireland and Grand Duke Ludwig (Louis) IV of Hesse.

I am deeply, passionately religious, so it may amuse you to know that I cried most ferociously during my baptism! As a child, my mother remembered me having an odd aversion to certain aged women: "Ella is civil to all strangers--except to my mother-in-law, or to old ladies. It is too tiresome." Dear Granny, Queen Victoria, was quite alarmed to learn that my mother fed me herself. Granny felt it was "unladylike." In jest, she named a milking cow in Balmoral "Princess Alice!"

We grew up in surroundings that, due to my mother's influence, were primarily English. I shared a room with my sister Victoria, and we were dear friends. Orchie, Mrs. Mary Anne Orchard, ruled the nursery. After the Seven Week's War, my sister Irene (who's name means "Peace") was born. Our small grand duchy was not a wealthy one, and for princesses, our existence was rather modest. Our mother devoted herself to working with the sick in many hospitals. Her heroine was Florence Nightingale.

Irene was followed by Ernst-Ludwig (Ernie, b. 1868), Wilhelm Frederick (Frittie, b. 1870), Alix (Sunny, b. 1872) and Marie (May, b. 1874). Poor little Frittie suffered from hemophilia and he died from it on May 29, 1873, after falling twenty feet from an open window.

In November of 1878, Victoria came down with diphtheria. Alix next caught it, then May, Irene, Ernie, and our Father. I was sent away, as I alone was spared, and Mama nursed my ailing siblings and father. Little May died on the 15 November. She had taken the place of the much-loved Frittie in Mama's heart after his death, and May's passing crushed her. Soon, our Mother too caught the disease, after kissing poor Ernie. Everyone else recovered, but she died on 14 December, exactly 17 years after her father's death.

We were all disconsolate, but Granny did her best to act as a mother to us, especially Ernie and Alix, the little ones. Meanwhile, Victoria, Irene and I were quickly growing up and attracting admirers. I was said to be the prettiest, but such a distinction means little to me now. One of my admirers was our insufferable cousin Willy, the future Kaiser Wilhelm II. He wrote me poetry. I did not like his attentions, let alone his presence.

I instead married HIH the Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich of Russia, a son of Tsar Alexander II. He was effeminate, and rumors circulated that he was homosexual, but we loved each other in our own way. We had been childhood sweethearts. Granny was against the marriage. She distrusted all things Russian: she felt the Russian climate would undermine my health!

At my wedding, my sister Alix met the young Tsesarevich, (and my nephew by marriage!) Nicholas. They were too cute together. But Alix was only 12 at the time, Nicky 16, so it was little more than childish flirtation. But he always spoke fondly of our Sunny.

Sergei had been appointed Governor-General of Moscow by his brother, Tsar Alexander III. Upon my marriage I was not required to convert to Orthodoxy--Sergei was far enough removed from the sucession--but I eventually chose to do so. I was seeking fulfillment (my marriage, while not unhappy was certainly less than ideal. Sergei and I didn't have any children, for one), and I found it in the Russian Orthodox Church. I became "the truly believing Grand Duchess Elizaveta Feodorovna". At this point, I told Sergei (who cried) "Your people have become my people, and your God my God."

I had Alix come visit me in Russia, and she, then 17, and Nicky fell in love. I encouraged the romance, and had many long talks with and sent many hopeful letters to Nicky. His parents were against the marriage, as was Queen Victoria. Alix was perhaps Granny's favorite, and she would have liked to have placed Sunny on England's throne. To make matters worse, Alix, like me, was devotedly religious, and refused to convert from Lutheranism to Orthodoxy. My own conversion did much to dissuade her fears, and at Ernie and "Ducky's" wedding in Coburg in 1894, Alix finally, tearfully, and happily accepted Nicky's proposal. Our Father, alas, did not live to see the engagement: he died on 12 March, 1892.

When the Tsar Alexander III was on his deathbed in 1894, Alix arrived in the Crimea with Victoria and Orchie. I, too, was there. He died peacefully. As I recounted to Granny: "We all knelt down to hear his quiet last breath, no agony whatever, and that pure soul went to heaven. To die like that makes one feel God's presence and that from this world we are called to real life. If you know the comfort, the calm it gave our souls while our hearts were breaking. . ."

Nicky was so upset, not just at the lost of his beloved Papa, but at the thought of being Tsar. Thankfully he at least had Alix to comfort him. Alix converted in a simple, lovely ceremony the next day, becoming the Grand Duchess Alexandra Feodorovna, and I took communion with her, Nicky, and Minnie, the widowed Empress Maria Feodorovna. Nicky and Alix were married in November, on Minnie's birthday, when mourning was relaxed temporarily. They loved each other so tenderly and devotedly, it was truly touching.

Sergei and I had no children, but after 1902 we became adoptive parents of Maria Pavlovna and Dmitri Pavlovich, the children of Grand Duke Pavel. After the death of his wife, my dear friend Alexandra of Greece, in 1891, and his subsequent second marriage of which Nicky did not approve, he fled abroad. Maria remembers me being rather cold initially, but our relationship improved over time. I did love children, but my marriage to Sergei was strange enough without having two children (to whom he showed more affection than me) thrown into the mix!

Nicky and Alix's family was expanding as well. By 1901 they had four daughters, Olga, Tatiana, Maria (my goddaughter), and Anastasia. In 1904 they welcomed a long-awaited son, Heir Tsesarevich Aleksey Nikolaievich. The poor boy was ill, as my brother Frittie had been, and it was his illness that drove my sister to that unholy Russian mystic. No one can accuse me of not embracing the Orthodox faith, but I had no faith whatsoever in these charlatans.

In 1905, Sergei was assassinated. After kissing Maria, Dmitri and I good-bye, he entered his carriage. An explosion shook the palace, and knew instantly that it was Sergei. I had felt uneasy all morning. I grabbed a cloak and ran outside. His carriage was blown to bits by a terrorist's bomb. All that was left was a hand, a leg, and an arm. All I could think at the time was "Hurry, hurry, Sergei so hated mess and blood!"

I later visited the assassin, one Kalyayev, in prison. I told him Sergei had forgiven him (I know he would have) and I gave him an Ikon. I also told him I would pray for him.

After Sergei's death, I devoted myself to caring for the sick. Like my ancestress and namesake, I abandoned my wealth and used it to help the poor and sick of Moscow. From 1908 on, I was devoted to the building of my convent. The Holy Synod thought some of my goals and methods too Protestant, but I had Nicky on my side, and the dear man established my convent by Imperial decree in 1910. Bless his gentle soul. On 8 April, 1910, 19 of us were consecrated merciful sisters of the Cross.

In 1914 I traveled about Russia with my sister Victoria and her daughter Louise. When war broke out, Louis of Battenberg was in a frenzy trying to get his wife and daughter back to England. Poor Nicky, having to make such dreadful decisions. In 1916 Dmitri Pavlovich and Felix Yusupov (who thought very highly of me, I am told) as a few others killed Rasputin. I had tried to reason with Alix about him, to tell her how he was hurting the dynasty, and about who he really was. But she would hear nothing of it, and we parted tearfully.

The Revolution found me even in my convent. While the Provisional Government was in power, I was safe, but after the Bolshevik coup, a band of communists came through to search the convent. I asked them to do so quietly, so as not to disturb the weak and the sick. I was offered chances to escape, but I could not leave my Sisters. In April of 1918, I was told I needed to be removed from Moscow for my safety. I was give a half hour to collect my things and make my good-byes. Two sisters came with me, Ekaterina Yanisheva and the ever-faithful Varvara. We ended up in Ekaterinburg. We were in a convent, only a mile away from the Ipatiev house, where Nicky, Alix, and my goddaughter Maria were currently being held. The other children joined them later. We were moved to Alapayevsk on 20 May, and I never got to see my sister.

I was martyred on 18 July, 1918, by being thrown down a mine shaft. Varvara, Volodya Paley, Princes Ioann, Igor, and Konstantin Konstantinovich, and Sergei Mikhailovich were with me. Sister Ekaterina was taken from us beforehand, against her will. I was the first to be pushed in, and I prayed for my murderers, in English: "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do."

I am now a Saint in my beloved Orthodox Church. May God bless you eternally. +

The many faces of Ella. . .

As a Princess of Hesse A formal portrait
Me, the Russian Grand Duchess My true calling. . .

Text by "Mashka"

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