Nicholas and Alexandra (24 page)

From the beginning, the disease of hemophilia hung over this sunny child like a dark cloud. The first ominous evidence had appeared at six weeks, when the boy bled from his navel. As he began to crawl and toddle, the evidence grew stronger: his tumbles caused large, dark blue swellings on his legs and arms. When he was three and a half, a blow on the face brought a swelling which completely closed both eyes. From London, Empress Marie wrote in alarm: "[I heard] that poor little Alexei fell on his forehead and his face was so swollen that it was dreadful to look at him and his eyes were closed. Poor boy, it is terrible, I can imagine how frightened you were. But what did he stumble against? I hope that it is all over now and that his charming little face has not suffered from it." Three weeks later, Nicholas was able to write back: "Thank God the bumps and bruises have left no trace. He is as well and cheerful as his sisters. I constantly work with them in the garden."

Medically, hemophilia meant that the Tsarevich's blood did not clot normally. Any bump or bruise rupturing a tiny blood vessel beneath the skin could begin the slow seepage of blood into surrounding muscle and tissue. Instead of clotting quickly as it would in a normal person, the blood continued to flow unchecked for hours, making a swelling or hematoma as big as a grapefruit. Eventually, when the skin was hard and tight, filled with blood like a balloon, pressure slowed the hemorrhage and a clot finally formed. Then,

gradually, a process of re-absorption took place, with the skin turning from a shiny purple to a mottled yellowish-green.

A simple scratch on the Tsarevich's finger was not dangerous. Minor external cuts and scratches anywhere on the surface of the body were treated by pressure and tight bandaging which pinched off the blood and allowed the flesh to heal over. Exceptions, of course, were hemorrhages from the inside of the mouth or nose—areas which could not be bandaged. Once, although no pain was involved, the Tsarevich almost died from a nosebleed.

The worst pain and the permanent crippling effects of Alexis's hemophilia came from bleeding into the joints. Blood entering the confined space of an ankle, knee or elbow joint caused pressure on the nerves and brought nightmarish pain. Sometimes the cause of the injury was apparent, sometimes not. In either case, Alexis awakened in the morning to call, "Mama, I can't walk today," or "Mama, I can't bend my elbow." At first, as the Hmb flexed, leaving the largest possible area in the joint socket for the incoming fluids, the pain was small. Then, as this space filled up, it began to hurt. Morphine was available, but because of its destructive habit-forming quaUty, the Tsarevich was never given the drug. His only release from pain was fainting.

Once inside the joint, the blood had a corrosive effect, destroying bone, cartilage and tissue. As the bone formation changed, the limbs locked in a rigid, bent position. The best therapy for this condition was constant exercise and massage, but it was undertaken at the risk of once again beginning the hemorrhage. As a result, Alexis's normal treatment included a grim catalogue of heavy iron orthopedic devices which, along with constant hot mud baths, were designed to straighten his limbs. Needless to say, each. such episode meant weeks in bed.* The combination of exalted rank and hemophilia saw to it that Alexis grew up under a degree of care rarely lavished on any child. While he was very young, nurses surrounded him every minute. When he was five, his doctors suggested that he be given a pair of male companions and bodyguards. Two sailors from the Imperial Navy, named Derevenko and Nagorny, were selected and assigned to protect the Tsarevich from harm. When Alexis was ill, they acted as

* Today, at the first sign of severe bleeding, hemophiliacs are given transfusions of frozen fresh blood plasma or plasma concentrates. New non-habit-forming drugs are used to lessen pain. Where necessary, joints are protected by intricate plastic and light metal braces. Most of these developments in the treatment of hemophilia are quite recent. The use of plasma, for example, was a medical outgrowth of the Second World War, while the design of new lightweight braces is the result of new syntheses of metals and plastics. Hemophilia today is a severe but more manageable disease, and most hemophiliacs can survive the difficult years of childhood to live relatively normal adult lives.

nurses. "Derevenko was so patient and resourceful, that he often did wonders in alleviating the pain," wrote Anna Vyrubova, an intimate friend of the Empress. "I can still hear the plaintive voice of Alexis begging the big sailor, 'Lift my arm,' 'Put up my leg,' 'Warm my hands,' and I can see the patient, calm-eyed man working for hours to give comfort to the little pain-wracked limbs."

Hemophilia is a fickle disease, and for weeks, sometimes months, Alexis seemed as well as any child. By nature he was as noisy, lively and mischievous as Anastasia. As a toddler, he liked to scoot down the hall and break into his sisters' classroom, interrupting their lessons, only to be carried off, arms waving. As a child of three or four, he often made appearances at the table, making the round from place to place to shake hands and chatter with each guest. Once he plunged beneath the table, pulled off the slipper of one of the maids-of-honor and carried it proudly as a trophy to his father. Nicholas sternly ordered him to put it back, and the Tsarevich disappeared again under the table. Suddenly the lady screamed. Before replacing the slipper on her foot, Alexis had inserted into its toe an enormous ripe strawberry. Thereafter, for several weeks he was not allowed at the dinner table.

"He thoroughly enjoyed life—when it let him—and he was a happy, romping boy," wrote Gilliard. "He was very simple in his tastes and he entertained no false satisfaction because he was the Heir; there was nothing he thought less about." Like any small boy's, his pockets were filled with string, nails and pebbles. Within the family, he obeyed his older sisters and wore their outgrown nightgowns. Nevertheless, outside the family, Alexis understood that he was more important than his sisters. In public, it was he who sat or stood beside his father. He was the one greeted by shouts of "The Heir!" and the one whom people crowded around and often tried to touch. When a deputation of peasants brought him a gift, they dropped to their knees. Gilliard asked him why he received them thus, and Alexis replied, "I don't know. Derevenko says it must be so." Told that a group of officers of his regiment had arrived to call on him, he interrupted a romp with his sisters. "Now girls, run away," the six-year-old boy said, "I am busy. Someone has just called to see me on business."

Sometimes, impressed by the deference shown him, Alexis was rude. At six, he walked into the waiting room of his father's study and found the Foreign Minister, Alexander Izvolsky, waiting to see the Tsar. Izvolsky remained seated. Alexis marched up to the Minister and said in a loud voice, "When the Heir to the Russian Throne enters a room, people must get up." More often, he was gracious. To

one of his mother's ladies-in-waiting who had done him a favor, the Tsarevich extended his hand in an exact imitation of his father and said with a smile, "It is really nice of you, you know." As he grew older, he became sensitive to the subtleties of rank and etiquette. At nine, he sent a collection of his favorite jingles to Gleb Botkin, the doctor's son, who drew well. Along with the jingles he sent a note, "To illustrate and write the jingles under the drawings. Alexis." Then, before handing the note to Dr. Botkin to take to Gleb, Alexis abruptly crossed out his signature. "If I send that paper to Gleb with my signature on it, then it would be an order which Gleb would have to obey," the Tsarevich explained. "But I mean it only as a request and he doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to."

As Alexis grew older, his parents carefully explained to him the need to avoid bumps and blows. Yet, being an active child, Alexis was attracted to the very things that involved the greatest danger. "Can't I have my own bicycle?" he would beg his mother. "Alexei, you know you can't." "May I please play tennis?" "Dear, you know you mustn't." Then, with a gush of tears, Alexis would cry, "Why can other boys have everything and I nothing?" There were times when Alexis simply ignored all restraints and did as he pleased. This risk-taking behavior, common enough among hemophiliac boys to be medically labeled the "Daredevil reaction," was compounded of many things: rebellion against constant overprotection, a subconscious need to prove invulnerability to harm and, most important, the simple desire to be and play like a normal child.

Once, at seven, he appeared in the middle of a review of the palace guard, riding a secretly borrowed bicycle across the parade ground. The astonished Tsar promptly halted the review and ordered every man to pursue, surround and capture the wobbling vehicle and its delighted novice rider. At a children's party at which movies had been shown, Alexis suddenly led the children on top of the tables and began leaping wildly from table to table. When Derevenko and others tried to calm him, he shouted gaily, "All grown-ups have to go," and tried to push them out the door.

By deluging him with expensive gifts, his parents hoped to make him forget the games he was forbidden to play. His room was filled with elaborate toys: There were "great railways with dolls in the carriages as passengers, with barriers, stations, buildings and signal boxes, flashing engines and marvelous signalling apparatus, whole battalions of tin soldiers, models of towns with church towers and domes, floating models of ships, perfectly equipped factories with doll workers and mines in exact imitation of the real thing, with miners

ascending and descending. All the toys were mechanically operated and the little Prince had only to press a button to set the workers in motion, to drive the warships up and down the tank, to set the church-bells ringing and the soldiers marching."

Like his father, Alexis was enthralled by military pageantry. From birth, he had borne the title of Hetman of all the Cossacks and, along with his toy soldiers, toy forts and toy guns, he had his own Cossack uniform with fur cap, boots and dagger. In the summer, he wore a miniature uniform of a sailor of the Russian navy. As a child, he said that he wanted most to be Uke one of the ancient tsars, riding his white horse, leading his troops into battle. As he began spending more and more time in bed, he realized that he would never be that kind of tsar.

Alexis had an ear for music. Unlike his sisters, who played the piano, he preferred the balalaika and learned to play it well. He liked nature and kept a number of pets. His favorite was a silky spaniel named Joy, whose long ears dragged on the ground. From a circus the Tsar acquired an aged performing donkey with a repertory of tricks. When Alexis visited the stable, Vanka, the donkey, expected to find sugar in his master's pocket; if it was there, he turned it out with his nose. In the winter, Vanka was harnessed to a sled and pulled Alexis about the park.

Once Alexis was presented with the rarest pet of all, a tame sable. Caught by an old hunter in the depths of Siberia, it had been tamed by the old man and his wife, who decided to bring it as a present to the Tsar. The couple arrived, having spent every kopeck on the long journey. After the palace authorities had checked by telegram with their home village to make sure that the two were not revolutionaries, the Empress was informed. An hour later a message came back, instructing the old man and woman to come with the sable "as quickly as possible. The children are wild with impatience." Later the old hunter himself described to a palace official what had happened:

"Father Tsar came in. We threw ourselves at his feet. The sable looked at him as if it understood that it was the Tsar himself. We went into the children's room. The Tsar told me to let the sable go and the children began to play with it. Then the Tsar told us to sit down on chairs. He began to ask me questions. What made me think of coming to see him . . . What things are like in Siberia, How we go hunting ... [The sable, meanwhile, was racing around the room, pursued by the children, leaving a trail of ruin.] Father Tsar asked what had to be done for the sable. When I explained, he told me to send it to the Hunters village at Gatchina. But I said,

" 'Father Tsar, that won't do. All the hunters will be wanting to sell the skin of my sable. They will kill it and say the animal had an accident. . . . '

"The Tsar said:

" 'I would have chosen a hunter I could trust. But perhaps after all you are right. Take it back with you to Siberia. Look after it as long as it lives. That is an order you have received from me. . . . But mind, don't forget to look well after the sable; it's my sable now. God be with you!' "

The old man was given a watch crested with the Imperial eagle and the old woman a brooch. They were paid generously for the sable and also given money to travel home. But the children were inconsolable. "There was no help for it," they said. "Papa had made up his mind."

Pets were only a substitute for what Alexis really wanted: boys his own age as playmates. Because of his hemophilia, the Empress did not want him to play often with the small Romanov cousins who appeared infrequently at the palace with their parents. She considered most of them rough and rude, and she was afraid that they would knock Alexis down while playing their games. His most constant companions were the two young sons of Derevenko the sailor, who played with Alexis while their father watched. If the play got rough, Derevenko growled and the three children obeyed immediately. Later, carefully selected young cadets from the military academy were instructed as to the danger involved and then brought to the palace to play with the Tsarevich.

More often, Alexis played with his sisters or by himself. "Luckily," wrote Gilliard, "his sisters liked playing with him. They brought into his life an element of youthful merriment that otherwise would have been sorely missed." Sometimes, by himself, he simply lay on his back staring up at the blue sky. When he was ten, his sister Olga asked him what he was doing so quietly. "I like to think and wonder," said Alexis. "What about?" Olga persisted. "Oh, so many things," he said. "I enjoy the sun and the beauty of summer as long as I can. Who knows whether one of these days I shall not be prevented from doing it?"