in strict daily schedules with fixed hours for every activity. Years later, when Alix had carried this training to Russia, the Russian Imperial family ate on the stroke of the hour and divided its mornings and afternoons into rigid little blocks of time while Mrs. Orchard watched and nodded approvingly. She, along with her well-drilled habits, had been brought to Russia.
Before she was six, Alix drove her own pony cart through the park, accompanied by a liveried footman who walked at the pony’s head. In the summertime, her father, Grand Duke Louis, took his family to a hunting lodge called Wolfsgarten. There, Alix spent her mornings in a sun-filled courtyard, running up and down a flight of high stone steps and sitting by the courtyard fountain, dipping her hand in the water, trying to catch a goldfish. She liked to dress in her mother’s cast-off dresses and prance down the hall engulfed in crinoline, imagining herself as a great lady or a character from a fairy story.
Christmas was celebrated with German lavishness and English trimmings. A giant tree stood in the palace ballroom, its green branches covered with apples and gilded nuts, while the room glowed with the light of small wax candles fixed to the boughs. Christmas dinner began with a traditional Christmas goose and ended with plum pudding and mince pies especially shipped from England.
Every year, the family visited Queen Victoria. The Hessian children loved these visits to Windsor Castle near London, to the granite castle of Balmoral in the Scottish Highlands and to Osborne, the tiled Renaissance palace by the sea. Many years afterward, in Russia, the Empress Alexandra was to dream of herself as a little girl again, fishing for crabs, bathing and building sand castles on an English beach.
In 1878, when Alix was six, diphtheria swept the palace in Hesse-Darmstadt. All but one of the Grand Duke’s children were stricken. Victoria sent her own physician from England to help the German doctors, but, despite their efforts, Alix’s four-year-old sister, May, died. Then, worn out from nursing her children, Alix’s mother, Princess Alice, also fell ill. In less than a week she was dead.
The death of her mother at thirty-five, had a shattering effect on six-year-old Alix. She sat quiet and withdrawn in her playroom while her nurse stood in the corner, weeping. Even the toys she handled were new; the old, familiar toys had been burned as a precaution against the disease. Alix had been a merry, generous, warm little girl, obstinate but sensitive, with a hot temper. After this tragedy she began to seal herself off from other people. A hard shell of aloofness formed over her emotions, and her radiant smile appeared infrequently. Craving intimacy and affection, she held herself back. She grew to dislike unfamiliar places and to avoid unfamiliar people. Only in cozy family gatherings where she could count on warmth and understanding did Alix unwind. There, the shy, serious, cool Princess Alix became once again the merry, dimpled, loving “Sunny” of her early childhood.
After her daughter’s death, Queen Victoria treated Grand Duke Louis as her own son and invited him often to England with his motherless children. Alix, now the youngest, was the aging Queen’s special favorite and Victoria kept a close watch on her little grandchild. Tutors and governesses in Darmstadt were required to send special reports to Windsor and receive, in return, a steady flow of advice and instruction from the Queen. Under this tutelage, Alix’s standards of taste and morality became thoroughly English and thoroughly Victorian. The future Empress of Russia developed steadily into that most recognizable and respectable of creatures, a proper young English gentlewoman.
Alix was an excellent student. By the time she was fifteen, she was thoroughly grounded in history, geography and English and German literature. She played the piano with a skill approaching brilliance, but she disliked playing in front of people. When Queen Victoria asked her to play for guests at Windsor, Alix obliged, but her reddened face betrayed her torment. Unlike Nicholas, who learned by rote, Alix loved to discuss abstract ideas. One of her tutors, an Englishwoman named Margaret Jackson—“Madgie” to Princess Alix—was interested in politics. Miss Jackson passed her fascination along to Alix, who grew up believing that politics was a subject not necessarily restricted to men. Alix’s grandmother, after all, was a woman and still managed to be the dominant monarch in Europe.
Alix first traveled to St. Petersburg at the age of twelve for the marriage of her sister Ella to Grand Duke Serge, younger brother of Tsar Alexander III. She watched with interest as her sister was met at the station in St. Petersburg by a gilded coach drawn by white horses. During the wedding ceremony in the chapel of the Winter Palace, Alix stood to one side, wearing a white muslin dress, with roses in her hair. Between listening to the long, incomprehensible chant of the litany and smelling the sweet incense which filled the air, she stole side glances at the sixteen-year-old Tsarevich Nicholas. Nicholas responded and one day presented her with a small brooch. Overwhelmed, she accepted, but then shyly pressed it back into his hand during the excitement of a children’s party. Nicholas was offended and gave the brooch to his sister Xenia, who, not knowing its history, accepted it cheerfully.
Nicholas and Alix met again five years later in 1889, when she visited Ella in St. Petersburg. This time, she was seventeen, he was twenty-one—ages when girls and young men fall in love. They saw each other at receptions, suppers and balls. He came for her in the afternoon and took her skating on frozen ponds and tobogganing down hills of ice. Before Alix departed, Nicholas persuaded his parents to give her a special tea dance, followed by a supper of
The following summer Alix returned to Russia, but not to St. Petersburg. She went instead to Ilinskoe, the Grand Duke Serge’s country estate near Moscow. There Serge and Ella lived a simple country life with friends invited for prolonged visits. Summer was at its golden height, there were lazy rambles in the fields and searches through the woods for berries and mushrooms. It was Alix’s first sight of the wide expanse of Russian meadowland, of the white birch groves and the peasants in their loose blouses and baggy knickers. She was impressed by the deep, respectful bows they gave to her, a visitor. When she visited a country fair with Ella, she happily bought wooden dolls and gingerbread to take back home to Darmstadt.
Alix and Nicholas did not meet on this trip, and that autumn he left on his long cruise to the Far East. Alix was increasingly sure, however, that she loved the Russian Tsarevich. From the beginning, Nicholas had been polite and gentle. She liked his wistful charm and his appealing blue eyes. She saw that Nicholas still was treated as a boy by his parents, but she also saw his quiet persistence in pursuit of her against their wishes. In his devotion, he was a person in whom she could confide.
For Alix, the insuperable obstacle to any thought of marrying this shy, affectionate youth was his religion. Confirmed into the Lutheran Church at sixteen, Alix had accepted its Protestant theology with all the fervor of her passionate nature. She took everything in life seriously, and religion was the most serious matter of all. To reject casually a faith she had just sworn to accept seemed to her a direct affront to God. Yet still she loved Nicholas. Princess Alix plunged herself into a turmoil of doubt and self-examination.
The fact that Nicholas would one day be one of the mightiest rulers in Europe influenced Alix not at all. She had no interest in titles or the size of empires. In 1889, she rejected the proposal of Prince Albert Victor, the oldest son of the Prince of Wales and, after him, the heir to the British throne. This gay, popular young man, known to the family as Prince Eddy, died in 1892 at the age of twenty-eight, a sad event which put his younger brother, George, in line for the throne. It is one of the fascinating “if’s” of history that if Alix had accepted Prince Eddy’s proposal and Eddy had lived, he and Alix, not King George V and Queen Mary, would have ruled England. In this case, today Alix’s son might sit on the British throne.
In any case, Alix had no interest in Eddy, and even Queen Victoria, who favored the match, admired the strong-minded way in which her granddaughter rejected Eddy’s suit. “I fear all hope of Alicky’s marrying Eddy is at an end,” the Queen wrote to a friend. “She has written to tell him how it pains her to pain him, but that she cannot marry him, much as she likes him as a Cousin, that she knows she would not be happy with him and that he would not be happy with her and that he must not think of her.… It is a real sorrow to us … but … she says—that if she is forced she will do it—but that she would be unhappy and he too. This shows great strength of character as all her family and all of us wish it, and she refuses the greatest position there is.”
Alix played the part of a conscientious princess. She visited schools and hospitals and sponsored charities. She went to costume balls, sometimes dressed as a Renaissance princess in a gown of pale green velvet and silver with emeralds in her red-gold hair. With a friend, she sat in a palace window, singing songs and playing a banjo. She escorted Queen Victoria on a tour of the mining districts of Wales and insisted on being taken down the shafts and walking through the grimy labyrinthine tunnels. On a visit to Italy, she toured the palaces and galleries of Florence and settled herself into a gondola for a ride down the canals of Venice.
In the spring of 1894, Alix’s older brother Ernest, who had succeeded his father as Grand Duke of Hesse- Darmstadt, was to be married. The wedding in Coburg had attracted Europe’s most distinguished royalty. Queen
