JOURNEY TO THE PAST
100 Years of Anna Anderson and the Anastasia Phenomenon
The story of a fallen empire, a hidden gravesite, and the enigmatic woman behind one of the greatest mysteries of our time.
On the snow covered night of February 27, exactly a century ago this year, a young woman attempted to commit suicide by jumping off the Bendlerbrücke bridge into the Landwehr Canal in Berlin. The young woman was rescued by a police sergeant and admitted to the Elisabeth Hospital for medical evaluation. Days later, she was passed to the mental hospital in nearby Dalldorf, under the name “Fräulein Unbekannt” (“Miss Unknown”). She remembered nothing of what people wanted to hear about that fateful night in Ekaterinberg. She had no recollection of drunken men armed with pistols. No memory of damp cellars and gunshots— or corsets lined with priceless jewels.
All she could say was that she was there.
For nearly eighty years, this is all Anna Anderson, her supporters, and the world would come to believe.
The greatest mystery of the twentieth century began at midnight on July 17, 1918. Dr. Eugene Botkin, private physician to Tsar Nicholas II and the Imperial Family, was told to awaken the dethroned Tsar, his wife (Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna), their four daughters (Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia), and their son, former heir to the Russian throne, Tsarevich Alexei. The family dressed, packed their few possessions into suitcases, and were marched into a windowless basement, where they awaited instruction.
Minutes later, a group of men, led by local leader of the revolution, Yakov Yurovksy, entered and read aloud an order given directly from the Bolshevik-run Ural Executive Committee:
“Nikolai Alexandrovich, in view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you.”
The Tsar was confused. Yurovksy repeated himself. Within seconds the air was filled with bullets, gunpowder, and screams.
Eye witness accounts from the executioners would detail the desperate screams of the Tsarina and her daughters as they watched their patriarch killed with a bullet to the forehead. Meanwhile, bullets ricocheted off of the priceless jewels the Grand Duchesses and the Tsarina had sewn into their corsets.
Surrounded by smoke, Yurovsky ordered his men out of the room. After several minutes of vomiting in the hallway from inhaling all their gun powder, Yurovsky and his men reentered the basement and reassessed the situation. The Tsar had been killed instantly. Doctor Botkin lay dead— hit by one bullet in in the abdomen and another in the head.
The rest of the room was very much alive.
Drunk and enraged, Yurovsky shot at the Tsarevich. After five bullets, the young prince fell to the floor— bayoneted and shot twice in the head for good measure. Meanwhile, all four Grand Duchesses lay in terror on the ground. Olga and Tatiana were finished off with bullets to the head and bayonets to the rest of their bodies. The youngest and bravest of the Romanov children, Anastasia, backed herself into a corner and was reported to be the only one to fight back— the jewels sewn into her corset preventing an assassin’s bayonet from stabbing her. Peter Ermakov then shot her in the head— or, so he claimed.
In the end, the last to be killed had been the Romanov’s maid, Anna Demidova. Having no jewels to protect her, she was finished off with a bayonet. The looted corpses were strewn throughout the basement, the corridor leading to it, and the surrounding woods outside. Over the next seventy-two hours, thick mud, incompetent gravediggers, broken legs, and faulty engines made for several failed missions to dispose of the corpses. With conflicting accounts from Yurovsky and Ermakov, both of whom were intoxicated at the time of the murder, details from the rest of the night remain blurred— nothing more than the attempts of two egomaniacs to outdo the other. Both men claimed that they were the one to have fatally shot the Tsar. Ermakov in fact confessed in a deathbed interview to have “pitched the ashes [of the Tsar] into the air… [catching] them like dust and carrying them across the woods and fields.” A document made public in 1989 known as “The Yurovsky Note” details this gruesome process in detail. Moreover, several executioners claimed that either Maria or Anastasia was still alive at the end of the onslaught, with “blood coming from her mouth; strange, guttural noises [coming] from her.” Former guards Anatoly Yakimov and Feodor Gorshkov later maintained that Anastasia had survived, despite the fact that neither were part of the firing squad. Gorshkov also said he was the one who shot Maria and Anastasia in the head, but upon reconstructing their corpses in the 1990’s, scientists found the only bullet wound in Maria to be in her thigh. According to Yakimov and Gorshkov’s accounts, Anastasia, had no bullet wounds and was still alive when the bodies were taken out of the room. Ermakov’s wife however, claimed that Maria and Anastasia were both clubbed to death. Adding to the confusion, their testimonies are reported to have disappeared as a result of Henry Ford’s own tampering. He was said to have obtained and intentionally misplaced written reports of the execution as part of an anti-semitic conspiracy. Regardless of who was telling the truth, rumors that one of the Grand Duchesses had survived the massacre at Ekaterinberg swirled throughout the Russian countryside. Many were started as a means to keep the murders a secret from the public. The new Russian government did not wish to upset their newest ally, Germany, by revealing they had just killed the German born Tsarina. Meanwhile, dozens of Russian aristocrats fleeing the country pretended to be Romanovs on their papers, sparking intense fear among those loyal to the Bolsheviks. The location of the Tsar, his family, and his servants remained unknown for over seventy years. Some believed they were still alive in secret. Others believed they had been completely burned to dust. The myth of the Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov, youngest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II, had survived the Russian Revolution however, begins with Anna Anderson.
Two years after the initial massacre, a fellow patient of Fräulein Unbekannt, Clara Peuthert, claimed the still unidentified patient was the Grand Duchess Tatiana Romanov— the second eldest daughter of the Tsar. When this news came to the attention of Captain Nicholas von Schwabe, a Russian refugee and former acquaintance of the royal family, he visited the asylum and confirmed Peuthert’s suspicion. Former lady-in-waiting to the Tsarina, Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden however, proclaimed Fräulein Unbekkant “too short for Tatiana” and dismissed the claim entirely— especially after being told the young woman was too ill to see her. Buxhoeveden knew the Romanovs were dead and the Bolsheviks had taken over for good.
Anything else was nothing but the speculations of a mental patient and those who longed for the return of the opulent world of imperial Russia.
In the meantime, Schwabe, an active member of The Supreme Monarchist Council, visited Anna numerous times in Dalldorf after Tolstoy’s claim. One fateful day, after many fruitless attempts, Schwabe managed to scribble a note to the young woman on a page of a bible. Anna took it, tore it up, and said that she was not Tatiana (as Schwabe and others believed she was), but Anastasia.
By May of 1922, the unknown woman began referring to herself as Anna (using “Anna” as a short form of “Anastasia”) and was given shelter in the home of Baron Arthur von Kleist— a Russian émigré in Berlin who had been the police chief in Russian Poland during the imperial era. According to reports from many of his contemporaries, his intentions in getting close to Anna was to be in the good favor of the Russian royal family should the White Army seize power. Baron von Kleist would later be charged with war crimes and spend the rest of his life in a Soviet Prison. Other Russian big-wigs who came to support Anna were Schwabe and Zinaida Tolstoy— the latter of whom tried to use her influence to bring Anna into favor with other non Russian royals and nobility.
All Tolstoy had to do was look into the young woman’s eyes to know she was the daughter of the Tsar. Tolstoy, a member of The Supreme Monarchist Council— an imperial Russian loyalist organization— reported back to the council that one of the daughters was alive. European nobility remained polarized on the issue of Anna. Two European royals who were unconvinced were Princess Irene of Hesse and by Rhine, Anastasia’s aunt, and the Crown Princess Cecilie of Prussia. Whether it was the fear of her true identity being uncovered or general anxiety remains unclear— but Anna remained terrified of the Princess Cecilie and the two never met face to face. Prince Felix Yusopov, who had been a prominent figure in the assassination of Grigory Rasputin, also declared that Anna was a mere imposter. Tatiana Melnik, the daughter of Dr. Botkin, who was murdered alongside the Romanov family in the cellar at Ekaterinberg, was more trusting. Melnik wrote:
“Her attitude is childlike, and altogether she cannot be reckoned with as a responsible adult, but must be led and directed like a child. She has not only forgotten languages, but has in general lost the power of accurate narration… even the simplest stories she tells incoherently and incorrectly; they are really only words strung together in impossibly ungrammatical German… Her defect is obviously in her memory and eyesight.”
Melnik would eventually chalk all the inconsistencies in Anna’s narrative to the severe psychological trauma experienced during the Revolution and slowly began to coach Anna on royal etiquette and history— the untamed mental patient now groomed to pass as royalty like an eastern European Eliza Doolittle. Meanwhile, at the home of Baron von Kleist, Anna grew ill and the Kleist family doctor began injecting her with morphine. In between morphine induced hazes, Zinaida Tolstoy took advantage of Anna’s altered state to get the paranoid Anna to reveal the frightening details of the Tsar’s murder. Frightful of the stories she told, some of which included being raped by the Bolsheviks, the Russian loyalists who frequented Kleist’s parlor began to dismiss Anna entirely.
By 1927, the story of Anna Anderson reached a fever-pitch. In the United States, largely due to the meddling of Gleb Botkin, the eccentric son of Dr. Botkin, the story gained significant media attention. Princess Xenia Leeds, a distant cousin of Anastasia’s arranged for Anna to travel to the United States, where she lived with her husband. En route to the United States, Anna made quite the impression in Paris where she meet the Tsar’s first cousin Grand Duke Andrei Vladimrovich of Russia, who believed Anna to be the real Anastasia— calling their meeting “an unshakeable recognition.” While Vladimrovich would grow to recant his approval, his initial belief would validate Anna’s story for many.
Despite this impression, twelve of the Tsar’s closest living family members met in October 1928 at the funeral of the Tsar’s beloved mother, Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna — who counted Anastasia as her favorite grandchild. There, sheltered behind the closed doors that the family loved to hide behind their subjects from, the family signed a legal document asserting that “Anna Tchaikovsky” was nothing but a mere imposter. The document, known as “The Copenhagen Statement” ensured that Anna would never get a single fraction of the vast Romanov fortune.
Back in the U.S, Anna’s mental state began to deteriorate. Snubbed by the royal expatriates of New York’s swanky Fifth Avenue penthouses, Anna killed her pet parakeet and was later found running around naked on the roof of a Park Avenue apartment building. Until 1931, Anna remained at the Four Winds sanitarium in Westchester, New York before returning to Germany a vastly changed woman.
Upon her return to Germany, Anna received a great media frenzy. In fact, her litigation against a British tabloid, News of the World— which published a story about Anna being a Romanian actress— was the longest running lawsuit in German history. After keeping the German legal system in its own version of Jarndyce vs. Jarndyce, Anna settled in a home on the outskirts of the Black Forest.
Whether Anna intended to draw attention to herself or not became irrelevant. She became a highly sought after tourist attraction and some former royal allies became frequent visitors. As was the case throughout the 1920’s, many of these big-wigs couldn’t have cared less about Anna’s wellbeing— they just wanted some sort of memento from the grand imperial heyday. Regardless of their intent, Anna continued to entertain visitors in the Black Forest until 1968, when she returned to the United States with Gleb Botkin and settled among the faculty houses at the University of Virginia. Here, Anna married John “Jack” Manahan, a professor and famous eccentric. Guests were utterly exasperated by their Grey Gardens-esque lifestyle. The two lived in a house of squalor and chaos, where cats climbed over mountains of garbage and old newspapers, while dust and grime collected on furniture. On February 12, 1984 Anna Anderson succumbed to pneumonia— almost sixty-four years to the day she was found on the side of the road, an unknown woman on the brink of notoriety.
Over one hundred years after that fateful night in Berlin, the mystery of Anastasia, Grand Duchess of Russia still lingers in public discourse, despite DNA evidence that concludes that the beloved Grand Duchess was indeed murdered by the Bolsheviks in a gruesome attack. Though leading a sad and lonely existence, Anna Anderson’s story has given life to dozens of plays, films, novels, television series, documentaries, musicals, and even ballets. For some, the mystery of Anastasia lives on through old news stories and an Academy Award Winning film starring Ingrid Bergman. For younger generations, Anastasia’s story lives on in the form of the spunky cartoon princess found in 20th Century Fox’s animated musical, Anastasia. Unfortunately for fans of these works, scientific evidence proves Anna Anderson was not the Grand Duchess. In 1927, private investigator Martin Knopf determined that Anderson was in fact, Franziska Schanzkowska, a Polish factory worker. According to Knopf (who had been hired by the Tsarina’s surviving brother, Ernest Louis, Grand Duke of Hesse), Schanzkowska had been working in an arms factory during World War I. Upon learning that her husband was killed in action, she dropped the grenade she was making, causing it to explode. Schanzkowska was injured and her foreman was killed.
Shell-shocked, Schanzkowska was committed to several asylums. She had been reported missing in 1920 and her family believed her to be dead. When her brother Felix visited her while she was under the care of Duke George of Leuchtenberg, he formally declared that she was an imposter in an affidavit. Years later, the Schanzkowska family would say that Felix knew Anna Anderson was really his sister, but relented upon seeing her high-class lodgings— knowing that her life among the royals of Europe would be better than any peasant’s life in Poland. Any hopes of Anna Anderson truly being Anastasia were dashed in 1991, when the bodies of the Tsar, Alexandra, and three of their daughters were exhumed from a mass grave near where the Impatiev House once stood in Ekaterinberg. Based purely on DNA testing and analysis of several of bone samples, scientists determined the skeletal remains were in fact those of the Tsar, his family, and two of their servants. Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, whose maternal grandmother Princess Victoria of Hesse and by Rhine was a sister of Alexandra, provided his own DNA sample. His DNA may have matched those of the remains found in Ekaterinberg, but still Anna’s story was considered true to many due to the missing remains of one of the Tsar’s daughters. However, a sample of Anderson’s intestinal tissue, which was saved in Charlottesville’s Martha Jefferson Hospital after Anderson had bowel surgery in 1977, was compared to those of the DNA found in the bones.
The results concluded that Anna Anderson was indeed, not a blood relation of the Romanov family. Karl Maucher, a man who was related to the Schanzkowska family provided his DNA, which perfectly matched the intestinal sample from Anderson. Anna’s doubters had been correct: she was indeed not the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia. Still, even with the lack of a corpse, the mystery of Anastasia continued to thrive— that is, until August 23, 2007, when a group of Russian archaeologists, announced the discovery of two partial skeletons at a bonfire site in Ekaterinberg. Both corpses showed signs of severe burns. The smaller of the two skeletons was deemed to be those of a young boy between the ages of ten and thirteen. The other larger skeleton was from a young woman in her late teens. Anastasia Romanov had just turned seventeen at the time of her execution. In addition to the skeletons, investigators also found remnants of nails, metal, bullets, and containers of sulfuric acid. DNA testing done at the U.S. Armed Forces DNA Identification Laboratory and in Austria at Innsbruck Medical University, concluded that the young boy skeleton was that of the Tsarevich Alexei and the other to that of one of his sisters.
Despite nearly a century of mystery, all of the Romanovs had indeed perished after being executed by the Bolsheviks in a cold, dark basement in the remote city of Ekaterinberg. The question, that lingers then, is: with all this conclusive evidence, why have so many held on to a fascination with this closed case?
There are the obvious answers: the idea of a lost princess, presumed to have survived a gory execution, ready to reclaim her place among the reviled and revered European royal family. Add to this the fact that so few details of the execution were unknown for decades and the fact that her given name “Anastasia” means “resurrection,” and any artist has the tools for a perfect story: a modern fairy tale with real historical roots and a mystery spin.
But perhaps however, Anna Anderson’s tale represents something more than a perfect fantasy of a lonely young woman holding on to the possibility that she might be a princess.
Despite this tragedy, Anderson’s story reflects, to many, the search for one’s identity and finding their place in this world. We may not believe we are the heir to the Russian throne, but the human condition forces us to search for belonging and a sense of place— a common theme in every iteration and adaptation of Anna’s saga. Ultimately, whether in the form of this historical essay, a book, or a spunky animated princess voiced by Meg Ryan, Anna Anderson’s search for her own identity will live on for centuries and make Anastasia Romanov among the most famous and recognizable figures in modern European history.
Sources and References:
Coble, Michael D., Odile M. Oreille, Mark J. Wadhams, Suni M. Edson, Kerry Marnard, Carna E. Meyer, Harald Neiderstätter, Cordula Berger, Burkhard Berger, Anthony B. Falsetti, Peter Gill, Walther Parson, and Louis N. Finelli. “Mystery Solved: The Identification of the Two Missing Romanov Children Using DNA Analysis.” PLoS ONE 4, no. 3 (2009): https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2652717/.
Klier, John and Helen Mingay. The Quest for Anastasia. Secaucus: Birch Tree, 1997.
King, Greg and Penny Wilson. The Resurrection of the Romanovs. New York: Wiley, 2011.
Kurth, Peter. Anastasia: The Life of Anna Anderson. Boston: Back Bay Books, 1985.
Massie, Robert K. The Romanovs: The Final Chapter. New York: Ballantine, 1995.
McDowall, Adrian and Gareth Tunley, dir. The Last Czars. 1,6, “The House of Special Purpose.” Aired July 3, 2019, on Netflix, Netflix.com.
Rappaport, Helen. The Race to Save the Romanovs. New York: St. Martin’s, 2018.
Rappaport, Helen. The Romanov Sisters. New York: St. Martin’s, 2014.