Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love… seeketh not her own… beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things… Love never faileth…
(1 Corinthians 13:4–9).
Georgiy Mikhailovich Osorgin, 1917. True love is unimaginable without mercy, compassion, and the readiness for self-sacrifice in serving one’s beloved. Such is the love we shall speak of—the love between Georgiy Mikhailovich Osorgin and Alexandra Mikhailovna Golitsyna. Osorgin was a nobleman, former Horse Guard, and recipient of the St. George Cross. Alexandra Mikhailovna Golitsyna hailed from an ancient and noble family, a great-granddaughter of a former governor of Moscow. Their youth coincided with a harrowing time for Russia—the Revolution, Civil War, famine, devastation, and repression. The Osorgin family was expelled by the Bolsheviks from their ancestral estate, Sergievskoye, in the Kaluga Province, forcing them to seek refuge with relatives in Izmalkovo near Moscow. Members of noble families were considered the “former” people. The Osorgins lived on the sale of personal belongings, gave private lessons, made translations, and tended a garden. Alexandra Golitsyna (Lina, as she was called by her family) worked in Moscow for the American company ARA.
Georgiy was first arrested on September 25, 1921. The reason for his arrest was meetings with fellow soldiers. He was accused of counter-revolutionary activities and imprisoned in Butyrka prison. He was under investigation for six months and then held for another year in Moscow, in the Novo-Peskovsky concentration camp. However, he managed to secure his release, and in December 1922, he returned to his family in Izmalkovo. Later, in search of work, he moved to Moscow, renting an apartment on Spiridonovka Street, where many of his relatives also lived. The times were bleak and difficult. In the capital, as throughout the country, hunger and unemployment spread, mass arrests and expulsions of “harmful” and “dangerous” elements were common. Georgiy wrote to his uncle in Paris: “Life has become dreary, not because of the constantly hanging sword of Damocles, but because there seems to be no hope for any change.”
The Osorgins in Izmalkovo: Mikhail Mikhailovich, Maria, Ulyana, Elizaveta Nikolaevna, Antonina, and Georgiy. 1918–1923.
A ray of light in his life was his close relationship with his third cousin—Princess Alexandra Golitsyna. Georgiy began to court her, and their friends composed a playful rhyme:
Spiridonovka’s Lina dea
Loves Georgiy, that is clear.
White jacket, crisp and neat,
Officer boots upon his feet,
Golden sideburns, oh so fine,
Make her heart with love incline.
Georgiy confessed his love to Lina and asked her hand in marriage. She gladly accepted his proposal. Here’s how Lina’s younger brother recalls learning about his sister’s upcoming marriage:
“One day, our sister Lina arrived at Znamenka, noticeably excited, and whispered something to our mother.”
Geogiy Mikhailovich Osorgin. Drawing by M. M. Osorgina, 1921. Upon hearing of the upcoming wedding, Lina’s younger brother and sister shouted with joy. However, their parents were not overly enthusiastic about the young couple’s desire to start a family. The Osorgin family, for whom religion was central to life, believed that Lina attended church too infrequently and hardly observed the fasts. Georgiy himself was very religious. He would attend early Liturgy at seven in the morning at the Church of St. John the Baptist in Starokonyushenny Lane, don a sticharion, and read the hours, and he also served as the choir director. The Golitsyns, on the other hand, were concerned about what they perceived as the somewhat frivolous nature of their future son-in-law. Nevertheless, the wedding took place. This bright and joyful event for the young people in love occurred on the Feast of the Intercession of the Holy Theotokos—October 14, 1923. They were married in the Moscow church of Sts. Boris and Gleb on Povarskaya Street. The groom was charming—of average height, blond with a beard and mustache, a military bearing, cheerful and solemn. The dark-haired Lina, tall and graceful, was dazzlingly beautiful. During the wedding ceremony, they drank from the shared cup to the last drop: wine mixed with water. In the Orthodox marriage sacrament, the wine in the cup symbolizes the joys of married life, while the water represents their shared sorrows, troubles, and pains. The newlyweds would have much joy in their future life, but even more sorrow and pain.
After the church ceremony, numerous relatives went to celebrate at Georgiy’s apartment. There was no formal dinner, but a table was set with countless sandwiches and bottles of red wine. For their honeymoon, the couple went to Byokhovo, the Polenov family estate on the Oka River. Georgiy’s best friend and fellow soldier, D. V. Polenov, the artist’s son, invited them to stay. The Osorgins lived there for a whole year. In September 1924, their daughter Marina was born, and the young family moved to a dacha in the village of Glinkovo, near the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra. Now Georgiy had to support not only his parents and sisters but also his young wife and child. He made ends meet with temporary jobs.
On March 6, 1925 came his second arrest, which took Georgiy completely by surprise. He had stopped by a friend’s house, where a search was underway. He was detained. Georgiy managed to leave a note for his wife:
“Now your turn has come, my dear, to undergo a trial. May the Lord protect you all! Pray for me and be completely calm. I’m not afraid for myself for a single moment, and all my thoughts are with you who remain… I bless and pray for you, but remember that I will hold my banner high, and I expect the same from you.”
He was taken to Lubyanka prison, where he was charged with “participation in an organization aiming to overthrow Soviet power, acting in the interest of aiding international bourgeoisie.” He was held in the internal prison of the OGPU for two and a half months. During interrogations, Georgiy did not deny that he was a monarchist and a believer.
“As far as my political convictions are concerned, I consider myself an ideological monarchist. I am a religious person, and if it were not for that, after the execution of Emperor Nicholas II, I would have taken my own life.”
He openly stated that serving in the Red Army would have meant betraying his oath to serve the Tsar and Motherland faithfully. He did not wish to shed Russian blood. Osorgin belonged to those imperial officers who viewed their service in the army in a chivalrous way, as a sacred duty. Being a knight without fear and reproach, he could not renounce his beliefs.
After sevan and a half months of pretrial detention, on October 12, 1925, the OGPU Collegium sentenced Osorgin to execution, but the sentence was commuted to ten years in prison, to be served in Butyrka Prison. This sentence was a heavy blow for Georgiy and his young wife. Georgiy spent two and a half years in Butyrka, in a cell with twenty-four other inmates. He filed several requests for amnesty, but each time they were denied. During these years, Lina brought her husband parcels once a week and visited him for 40 minutes almost every Sunday. In those prison years, Georgiy’s happiest moments were these short visits with his wife. From Butyrka, he wrote letters to Alexandra, filled with deep love and aching longing for freedom and his past, happy life with her.
In the winter of 1926/1927, Lina was arrested, but she was soon released thanks to the efforts of her father and the intervention of Ekaterina Pavlovna Peshkova, head of the Political Red Cross and wife of Maxim Gorky. Later, Georgiy admitted to his relatives that Lina’s time in detention were the most difficult days of his life.
In April 1928, on the eve of the Bright Resurrection, Georgiy Mikhailovich wrote from prison to a relative:
“The fourth Pascha is nearing that I will spend within these walls, separated from my family… From the beginning of Holy Week, I immediately felt the approaching feast; I follow the church cycle through the ringing bells, and my mind is filled with the words and chants of the Passion services, while a feeling grows in my soul of reverent tenderness… A clear, quiet, starry night hovers over Moscow, and you can hear how one church after another slowly and measuredly tolls the bell for the next Gospel reading. The Paschal Matins will begin any moment now. And I think of my Lina with Marinka, of Papa, Mama, my sisters and brothers…”
The letter is filled with the pain of lost happiness and immense love for God, his wife, and his parents.
In April of that same year, 1928, Georgiy had a conflict with the prison warden, during which his strong sense of independence was clearly evident. As a result, Osorgin was transferred from Moscow’s Butyrka prison to the Solovki Special Purpose Camp (SLON), located on the islands of the White Sea. Upon learning that the train with the prisoners was standing on a side track at Nikolaevsky Station in Moscow, Lina went there along with her brother and sister. She managed to see her husband and even talk with him for ten minutes under a guard’s vigilant watch. Only God knows what both of them felt in those parting moments.
Georgiy arrived at Solovki on May 6, 1928. There, he was appointed the clerk of the camp infirmary. His main duty was to handle the records of the medical commission that examined the prisoners. This position gave him the opportunity to do a great deal of good for the inmates.
It is impossible to count how many helpless intellectuals Georgiy helped transfer from the quarantine unit to the hospital, thereby saving them. He did much to rescue enfeebled scholars, who arrived at the camp severely exhausted from heavy physical labor. During medical commission meetings, he negotiated with doctors to lower their work capacity ratings. He also placed many priests in the infirmary.
Georgiy’s faith in Christ the Savior gave him the strength to live and work in the concentration camp, even under the most unbearable circumstances. His remarkable ability to work, despite his weak health, was astonishing. He tried to appear cheerful, encouraging those around him with his demeanor. He joked, “In the camp as in the camp,” playing on the well-known French expression, “À la guerre comme à la guerre” (“In war as in war”). Letters from his wife and the hope of her visit were his consolation. In the two and a half years since his transfer, he had only seen his wife within the confines of Butyrka Prison. As we know, love knows no distance. Lina made every effort to obtain permission to visit her husband. Her trip to Solovki was once again made possible with the help of E. P. Peshkova, who had saved many from prison and execution.
Lina set out, armed with substantial documents, warm clothes, and provisions. The couple lived together for an entire month. They were assigned a cabin on a small ship moored by the island. Every morning, Georgiy would leave for work at the infirmary, and in the evening, he would return to his wife. Osorgin’s name was on a special list of prisoners allowed to attend church. The couple attended solemn services at the Church of St. Onuphrius—the only functioning church on the island, where seven monks still remained. At least three bishops always celebrated the services. A beautiful choir, composed of both local and imprisoned monks, sang during the liturgies. The Osorgins prayed fervently, asking the Lord for protection from the machinations of the evils of this world. Lina was not alone as she left—anew life had begun inside her—their son, whom his father would never see.
Lina grew close to Georgiy’s family, bonded by their common sorrow. The Osorgins sincerely came to love her. Lina herself changed greatly, becoming more serious and praying often. Thoughts of her husband never left her, even during the illness of their little Marina, the darling and comfort of the whole family.
With trust in the Lord, Georgiy performed acts of courage, unafraid of severe punishment. On May 29, 1929, during the days leading up to Pascha, Georgiy brought a mantle and the Holy Gifts for the Sacrament of Communion to the dying Bishop Peter of Voronezh (Zverev), who was suffering from typhus. For this, he was placed in solitary confinement for thirty days. The conditions in the solitary cell were harsh: a windowless chamber; a daily ration of 400 grams of bread and two cups of hot water. A bedboard was brought in for 6 hours; the rest of the time, one had to stand, walk in the two-meter cell, or sit on the water-soaked floor. People would emerge sick from such confinement after only five days. Fortunately, it became known that Maxim Gorky was planning to visit Solovki on June 20, and all prisoners in solitary confinement were released. Osorgin was transferred to work on Anzer Island, where he remained until Lina’s second visit.
In June 1929, the Osorgins welcomed their second child, a son named Misha, who had been conceived on Solovki. Once again, Alexandra Mikhailovna sought permission to visit her husband, and once again, just like the first time, she was helped by Ekaterina Peshkova. Almost a year and a half after their first meeting, she traveled back to Solovki. This would be the last time they would see each other. The situation in the camp had changed drastically since her previous visit. The church was closed, services had ceased, the monks had been dispersed, and the number of prisoners had increased nearly tenfold. The couple was given a small separate house where they lived together for two weeks. On October 12, they celebrated Georgiy’s 36th birthday. They cherished each day spent together, knowing that each day was a gift from God. And they dreamed; it had been four years since Georgiy’s arrest, which meant that in six years, he would be released. They knew they wouldn’t be allowed to return to Moscow, but they planned to go into exile, where they would live together with their children and be happy. But these dreams were not meant to come true...
Once, as Lina later recalled, when the couple was about to go to bed, there was a knock at the door. Georgiy went out, carefully closing the door behind him. The conversation was long. When Georgiy returned, he told his wife that the visit was work-related. Only later did Lina realize that they had come to take her husband away. But he had persuaded the Chekists to wait until after his wife had left. He gave his word as an officer that he would say nothing to his wife. Georgiy kept his promise. It must have taken immense self-control to behave so calmly with his wife, that she didn’t suspect anything was wrong, to ensure that the happiness of their last days together would not be overshadowed by this woe. He seemed cheerful, lively, and slightly ironic, as always. Only once, when they were walking around the island, did Alexandra turn around to see her husband grasping his head in anguish. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing!” he replied with a smile. Meanwhile, Georgiy had serious reasons for his grim thoughts, as he was well aware of the situation in the camp.
The fact was that from time to time, prisoners managed to escape from the Solovki camp. One such escape had ended successfully—three brave naval officers made it to Finland by boat. Their stories about the horrors of Soviet concentration camps caused a great stir in the West, which in turn provoked the wrath of the Soviet authorities. A special commission arrived on Solovki from Moscow to punish those who had aided the escape. The island’s authorities despised Georgiy for his independence, his cheerfulness, his unbroken spirit, and his popularity among the prisoners, and so he was included in the list of those to be executed, despite having no involvement in the escape.
Georgiy saw his wife off on the steamboat on October 13, and the next day, October 14, he was taken into custody and interrogated. On October 16, the bloody sentence arrived. He was led to his execution while Lina was still on her journey back. The condemned were taken to their deaths in groups. Eyewitnesses reported that Georgiy, along with the other condemned men, sang the prayer “Christ is risen from the dead…” and other prayers as they were led through the Holy Gates of the monastery, from where the little house in which he had recently been so happy with his beloved wife was still visible. The execution of thirty-eight people, labeled as “participants in a secret conspiracy,” took place at the edge of the cemetery and lasted from evening through the entire night. Even in the morning, the hastily covered pit was still moving. Thus, innocent blood was spilled. This is how the earthly life of Georgiy Osorgin ended, and his new life with Christ began, whom he had fearlessly confessed before his executioners…
Lina returned to Moscow glowing with happiness, eagerly telling all her relatives about the two weeks she had spent with her husband. She said that those days were the happiest of their entire, albeit brief, married life together. Soon after, she learned of Georgiy’s execution from E. P. Peshkova. Lina was petrified with horror. There were no tears. Tearless grief can be even more horrible and profound. Pale, with a vacant gaze, Lina stood before the Osorgin family as she delivered the dreadful news of Georgiy’s death. She wrote to a relative abroad:
“Having learned the whole truth from Peshkova, I immediately told her that I was asking for help to leave (the country)…”
How many senseless sacrifices, shattered lives, and lost dreams did the “great” revolution bring to Russia!
Georgiy had apparently been preparing himself for death for some time. He looked at his future with clear eyes. The Osorgin family preserved a handkerchief on which Georgiy had written a farewell letter to his loved ones in ink. Someone with access to the prisoners managed to smuggle it out. In the letter, there are lines addressed to his mother-in-law, Anna Sergeevna Golitsyna:
“If I am destined to perish in prison, I wish Lina and my family to know that I will die peacefully, praying that Lina will find happiness again and that her life on earth will not be confined to the chain of suffering and grief that has bound her since she married me. The poor girl, poor girl… Why did you allow her to marry me?”
Little Misha Osorgin with his grandfather in 1935. Georgiy wished happiness for his beloved, even if it be with someone else. As the Apostle Paul wrote, Love… seeketh not her own (1 Cor. 13:5).
People like Georgiy Osorgin are the true jewels of Russia, its pride. According to D. S. Likhachev, who personally knew Georgiy from Solovki, he demonstrated greatness of spirit and will in the face of death, showing fearlessness, and never renouncing his principles and beliefs. A person of pure soul and nobility, Georgiy remained faithful to his love for God, his homeland, and his family. Innocently slain, he suffered for his faith; and by accepting a martyr’s death, he attained eternal life. Together with all the martyrs and confessors of the Russian Church, Georgiy prays before the throne of the Almighty for Russia and for all of us.
P.S. In 1931, Alexandra Osorgina, with her two children and Georgiy’s family, emigrated to France. Their son, Mikhail, later became a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia (ROCOR) in France and did much to help bring about the reconciliation between the Russian Orthodox Church and the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad.
