I RETURNED to St. Petersburg at the end of August. The Imperial family was in the Crimea. I called on the Controller of Her Majesty’s Household for my instructions and left for Livadia, which I reached on September 3rd. I found Alexis Nicolaïevitch pale and thin. He still suffered very much, and was undergoing a course of high-temperature mud-baths, which the doctors had ordered as a cure for the last traces of his accident but which he found extremely trying.
Naturally I waited to be summoned by the Czarina to receive exact instructions and suggestions from her personally. But she did not appear at meals and was not to be seen. She merely informed me through Tatiana Nicolaïevna that while the treatment was in progress regular lessons with Alexis Nicolaïevitch were out of the question. As she wished the boy to get used to me, she asked me to go with him on his walks and spend as much time with him as I could.
I then had a long talk with Dr. Derevenko. He told me that the Heir was a prey to hæmophilia, a hereditary disease which in certain families is transmitted from generation to generation by the women to their male children. Only males are affected. He told me that the slightest wound might cause the boy’s death, for the blood of a bleeder had not the power of coagulating like that of a normal individual. Further, the tissue of the arteries and veins is so frail that any blow or shock may rupture the blood-vessel and bring on a fatal hæmorrhage.
Such was the terrible disease from which Alexis Nicolaïevitch was suffering, such the perpetual menace to his life. A fall, nose-bleeding, a simple cut—things which were a trifle to any other child—might prove fatal to him. All that could be done was to watch over him closely day and night, especially in his early years,[7] and by extreme vigilance try to prevent accidents. Hence the fact that at the suggestion of the doctors he had been given two ex-sailors of the Imperial yacht, Derevenko and his assistant Nagorny, as his personal attendants and bodyguard. They looked after him in rotation.
My first relations with the boy in my new appointment were not easy. I was obliged to talk in Russian with him and give up French. My position was delicate, as I had no rights and therefore no hold over him.
As I have said, at first I was astonished and disappointed at the lack of support given me by the Czarina. A whole month had passed before I received any instructions from her. I had a feeling that she did not want to come between her son and myself. It made my initial task much more difficult, but it might have the advantage, once I had established my position, of enjoying it with greater freedom and personal authority. About this time I had moments of extreme discouragement, and in fact I sometimes despaired of success and felt ready to abandon the task I had undertaken.
Fortunately for me, in Dr. Derevenko I found a wise adviser whose help was of infinite value. He impressed on me the necessity for patience, and told me that, in view of the constant danger of the boy’s relapse, and as a result of a kind of religious fatalism which the Czarina had developed, she tended to leave decision to circumstance and kept on postponing her intervention, which would simply inflict useless suffering on her son if he was not to survive. She did not feel equal to battling with the child to make him accept me.
I understood myself, of course, that circumstances were unfavourable, but I still cherished a hope that one day the health of my pupil would improve.
The serious malady from which the Czarevitch had barely recovered had left him very weak and nervous. At this time he was the kind of child who can hardly bear correction. He had never been under any regular discipline. In his eyes I was the person appointed to extract work and attention from him, and it was my business to bend his will to the habit of obedience. To all the existing supervision, which at any rate allowed him idleness as a place of refuge, was to be added a new control which would violate even that last retreat. He felt it instinctively without realising it consciously. I had a definite impression of his mute hostility, and at times it reached a stage of open defiance.
I felt a terrible burden of responsibility, for with all my precautions it was impossible always to prevent accidents. There were three in the course of the first month.