BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
AND THE TALES OF HOME
By
Bayard Taylor
CONTENTS:
BEAUTY
AND THE BEAST. A STORY OF OLD RUSSIA.
I.
We are about to relate a
story of mingled fact and fancy. The
facts are borrowed from the Russian author, Petjerski; the fancy is our
own. Our task will chiefly be to soften
the outlines of incidents almost too sharp and rugged for literary use, to
supply them with the necessary coloring and sentiment, and to give a coherent
and proportioned shape to the irregular fragments of an old chronicle. We know something, from other sources, of the
customs described, something of the character of the people from personal
observation, and may therefore the more freely take such liberties as we choose
with the rude, vigorous sketches of the Russian original. One who happens to have read the work of
Villebois can easily comprehend the existence of a state of society, on the
banks of the
II.
We are in Kinesma, a small
town on the Volga, between
There was trouble one day,
in the
Prince Alexis owned the
bodies of the inhabitants, (with the exception of a few merchants and
tradesmen,) and the Archimandrite Sergius owned their souls. But the shadow of the former stretched also
over other villages, far beyond the ring of the wooded horizon. The number of his serfs was ten thousand, and
his rule over them was even less disputed than theirs over their domestic
animals.
The inhabitants of the place
had noticed with dismay that the slumber-flag had not been hoisted on the
castle, although it was half an hour after the usual time. So rare a circumstance betokened sudden wrath
or disaster, on the part of Prince Alexis.
Long experience had prepared the people for anything that might happen,
and they were consequently not astonished at the singular event which presently
transpired.
The fact is, that in the
first place, the dinner had been prolonged full ten minutes beyond its
accustomed limit, owing to a discussion between the Prince, his wife, the
Princess Martha, and their son Prince Boris.
The last was to leave for
"Ugh!" Prince Alexis would cry, with a shudder of
disgust, "the whelp barks after the dam!"
A state dinner he might
give; but a festival, with dances, dramatic representations, burning
tar-barrels, and cannon,--no! He knitted
his heavy brows and drank deeply, and his fiery gray eyes shot such incessant
glances from side to side that Boris and the Princess Martha could not exchange
a single wink of silent advice. The pet
bear, Mishka, plied with strong wines, which Prince Alexis poured out for him
into a golden basin, became at last comically drunk, and in endeavoring to
execute a dance, lost his balance, and fell at full length on his back.
The Prince burst into a
yelling, shrieking fit of laughter.
Instantly the yellow-haired serfs in waiting, the Calmucks at the
hall-door, and the half-witted dwarf who crawled around the table in his tow
shirt, began laughing in chorus, as violently as they could. The Princess Martha and Prince Boris laughed also;
and while the old man's eyes were dimmed with streaming tears of mirth, quickly
exchanged nods. The sound extended all
over the castle, and was heard outside of the walls.
"Father!" said
Boris, "let us have the festival, and Mishka shall perform again. Prince Paul of
"Good, by St.
Vladimir!" exclaimed Prince Alexis.
"Thou shalt have it, my Borka![1]
Where's Simon Petrovitch? May the
Devil scorch that vagabond, if he doesn't do better than the last time! Sasha!"
[1] Little Boris.
A broad-shouldered serf
stepped forward and stood with bowed head.
"Lock up Simon
Petrovitch in the southwestern tower.
Send the tailor and the girls to him, to learn their parts. Search every one of them before they go in,
and if any one dares to carry vodki to the beast, twenty-five lashes on the
back!"
Sasha bowed again and
departed. Simon Petrovitch was the
court-poet of Kinesma. He had a
mechanical knack of preparing allegorical diversions which suited the
conventional taste of society at that time; but he had also a failing,--he was
rarely sober enough to write. Prince
Alexis, therefore, was in the habit of locking him up and placing a guard over
him, until the inspiration had done its work.
The most comely young serfs of both sexes were selected to perform the
parts, and the court-tailor arranged for them the appropriate dresses. It depended very much upon accident--that is
to say, the mood of Prince Alexis--whether Simon Petrovitch was rewarded with
stripes or rubles.
The matter thus settled, the
Prince rose from the table and walked out upon an overhanging balcony, where an
immense reclining arm-chair of stuffed leather was ready for his siesta. He preferred this indulgence in the open air;
and although the weather was rapidly growing cold, a pelisse of sables enabled
him to slumber sweetly in the face of the north wind. An attendant stood with the pelisse
outspread; another held the halyards to which was attached the great red
slumber-flag, ready to run it up and announce to all Kinesma that the noises of
the town must cease; a few seconds more, and all things would have been fixed
in their regular daily courses. The
Prince, in fact, was just straightening his shoulders to receive the sables;
his eyelids were dropping, and his eyes, sinking mechanically with them, fell
upon the river-road, at the foot of the hill.
Along this road walked a man, wearing the long cloth caftan of a
merchant.
Prince Alexis started, and
all slumber vanished out of his eyes. He
leaned forward for a moment, with a quick, eager expression; then a loud roar,
like that of an enraged wild beast, burst from his mouth. He gave a stamp that shook the balcony.
"Dog!" he cried to
the trembling attendent, "my cap! my whip!"
The sables fell upon the
floor, the cap and whip appeared in a twinkling, and the red slumber-flag was
folded up again for the first time in several years, as the Prince stormed out
of the castle. The traveller below had
heard the cry,--for it might have been heard half a mile. He seemed to have a presentiment of evil, for
he had already set off towards the town at full speed.
To explain the occurence, we
must mention one of the Prince's many peculiar habits. This was, to invite strangers or merchants of
the neighborhood to dine with him, and, after regaling them bountifully, to
take his pay in subjecting them to all sorts of outrageous tricks, with the
help of his band of willing domestics.
Now this particular merchant had been invited, and had attended; but, being
a very wide-awake, shrewd person, he saw what was coming, and dexterously
slipped away from the banquet without being perceived. The Prince vowed vengeance, on discovering
the escape, and he was not a man to forget his word.
Impelled by such opposite
passions, both parties ran with astonishing speed. The merchant was the taller, but his long
caftan, hastily ungirdled, swung behind him and dragged in the air.
The short, booted legs of
the Prince beat quicker time, and he grasped his short, heavy, leathern whip
more tightly as he saw the space diminishing.
They dashed into the town of
"Stop, scoundrel! I have a crow to pick with you!"
And the tradesmen in their
shops looked on and laughed, as well they might, being unconcerned spectators
of the fun. The fugitive, therefore,
kept straight on, notwithstanding a pond of water glittered across the farther
end of the street.
Although Prince Alexis had
gained considerably in the race, such violent exercise, after a heavy dinner,
deprived him of breath. He again
cried,--
"Stop!"
"But the merchant
answered,--
"No, Highness! You may come to me, but I will not go to
you."
"Oh, the villian!"
growled the Prince, in a hoarse whisper, for he had no more voice.
The pond cut of all further
pursuit. Hastily kicking off his loose
boots, the merchant plunged into the water, rather than encounter the princely
whip, which already began to crack and snap in fierce anticipation. Prince Alexis kicked off his boots and
followed; the pond gradually deepened, and in a minute the tall merchant stood
up to his chin in the icy water, and his short pursuer likewise but out of
striking distance. The latter coaxed and
entreated, but the victim kept his ground.
"You lie,
Highness!" he said, boldly.
"If you want me, come to me."
"Ah-h-h!" roared
the Prince, with chattering teeth, "what a stubborn rascal you are! Come here, and I give you my word that I will
not hurt you. Nay,"--seeing that
the man did not move,--"you shall dine with me as often as you please. You shall be my friend; by St. Vladimir, I
like you!"
"Make the sign of the
cross, and swear it by all the Saints," said the merchant, composedly.
With a grim smile on his
face, the Prince stepped back and shiveringly obeyed. Both then waded out, sat down upon the ground
and pulled on their boots; and presently the people of Kinesma beheld the dripping
pair walking side by side up the street, conversing in the most cordial
manner. The merchant dried his clothes
FROM WITHIN, at the castle table; a fresh keg of old
III.
The festival granted on
behalf of Prince Boris was one of the grandest ever given at the castle. In character it was a singular cross between
the old Muscovite revel and the French entertainments which were then
introduced by the Empress Elizabeth.
All the nobility, for fifty
versts around, including Prince Paul and the chief families of
"I sit on the shore and
wait for the wind,"--which was as much as to say that Sasha had little
fear of the result
The tables were spread in
the great hall, where places for one hundred chosen guests were arranged on the
floor, while the three or four hundred of minor importance were provided for in
the galleries above. By noon the whole
party were assembled. The halls and
passages of the castle were already permeated with rich and unctuous smells,
and a delicate nose might have picked out and arranged, by their finer or
coarser vapors, the dishes preparing for the upper and lower tables. One of the parasites of Prince Alexis, a
dilapidated nobleman, officiated as Grand Marshal,--an office which more than
compensated for the savage charity he received, for it was performed in
continual fear and trembling. The Prince
had felt the stick of the Great Peter upon his own back, and was ready enough
to imitate any custom of the famous monarch.
An orchestra, composed
principally of horns and brass instruments, occupied a separate gallery at one
end of the dining-hall. The guests were
assembled in the adjoining apartments, according to their rank; and when the
first loud blast of the instruments announced the beginning of the banquet, two
very differently attired and freighted processions of servants made their
appearance at the same time. Those
intended for the princely table numbered two hundred,--two for each guest. They were the handsomest young men among the
ten thousand serfs, clothed in loose white trousers and shirts of pink or lilac
silk; their soft golden hair, parted in the middle, fell upon their shoulders,
and a band of gold-thread about the brow prevented it from sweeping the dishes
they carried. They entered the
reception-room, bearing huge trays of sculptured silver, upon which were
anchovies, the finest Finnish caviar, sliced oranges, cheese, and crystal
flagons of Cognac, rum, and kummel.
There were fewer servants for the remaining guests, who were gathered in
a separate chamber, and regaled with the common black caviar, onions, bread,
and vodki. At the second blast of
trumpets, the two companies set themselves in motion and entered the
dining-hall at opposite ends. Our
business, however, is only with the principal personages, so we will allow the
common crowd quietly to mount to the galleries and satisfy their senses with
the coarser viands, while their imagination is stimulated by the sight of the
splendor and luxury below.
Prince Alexis entered first,
with a pompous, mincing gait, leading the Princess Martha by the tips of her
fingers. He wore a caftan of green
velvet laced with gold, a huge vest of crimson brocade, and breeches of yellow
satin. A wig, resembling clouds boiling
in the confluence of opposing winds, surged from his low, broad forehead, and
flowed upon his shoulders. As his small,
fiery eyes swept the hall, every servant trembled: he was as severe at the
commencement as he was reckless at the close of a banquet. The Princess Martha wore a robe of pink satin
embroidered with flowers made of small pearls, and a train and head-dress of
crimson velvet.
Her emeralds were the finest
outside of
Prince Paul of
On one side of Prince Alexis
the bear Mishka took his station. By
order of Prince Boris he had been kept from wine for several days, and his
small eyes were keener and hungrier than usual.
As he rose now and then, impatiently, and sat upon his hind legs, he
formed a curious contrast to the Prince's other supporter, the idiot, who sat
also in his tow-shirt, with a large pewter basin in his hand. It was difficult to say whether the beast was
most man or the man most beast. They
eyed each other and watched the motions of their lord with equal jealousy; and
the dismal whine of the bear found an echo in the drawling, slavering laugh of
the idiot. The Prince glanced form one
to the other; they put him in a capital humor, which was not lessened as he
perceived an expression of envy pass over the face of Prince Paul.
The dinner commenced with a
botvinia--something between a soup and a salad--of wonderful composition. It contained cucumbers, cherries, salt fish,
melons, bread, salt, pepper, and wine.
While it was being served, four huge fishermen, dressed to represent
mermen of the Volga, naked to the waist, with hair crowned with reeds, legs
finned with silver tissue from the knees downward, and preposterous scaly
tails, which dragged helplessly upon the floor, entered the hall, bearing a
broad, shallow tank of silver. In the
tank flapped and swam four superb sterlets, their ridgy backs rising out of the
water like those of alligators. Great
applause welcomed this new and classical adaptation of the old custom of
showing the LIVING fish, before cooking them, to the guests at the table. The invention was due to Simon Petrovitch,
and was (if the truth must be confessed) the result of certain carefully
measured supplies of brandy which Prince Boris himself had carried to the
imprisoned poet.
After the sterlets had
melted away to their backbones, and the roasted geese had shrunk into
drumsticks and breastplates, and here and there a guest's ears began to redden
with more rapid blood, Prince Alexis judged that the time for diversion had
arrived. He first filled up the idiot's
basin with fragments of all the dishes within his reach,--fish, stewed fruits, goose
fat, bread, boiled cabbage, and beer,--the idiot grinning with delight all the
while, and singing, "Ne uyesjai golubchik moi," (Don't go away, my
little pigeon), between the handfuls which he crammed into his mouth. The guests roared with laughter, especially
when a juggler or Calmuck stole out from under the gallery, and pretended to
have designs upon the basin. Mishka, the
bear, had also been well fed, and greedily drank ripe old
But the close of the
performance was not upon the programme.
The impatient bear, getting no nearer his goblet, hugged the man
violently with the other paw, striking his claws through the thin shirt. The dance-measure was lost; the legs of the
two tangled, and they fell to the floor, the bear undermost. With a growl of rage and disappointment, he
brought his teeth together through the man's arm, and it might have fared badly
with the latter, had not the goblet been refilled by some one and held to the
animal's nose.
Then, releasing his hold, he
sat up again, drank another bottle, and staggered out of the hall.
Now the health of Prince
Alexis was drunk,--by the guests on the floor of the hall in
Half an hour later, the
great red slumber-flag floated over the castle.
All slept,--except the serf with the wounded arm, the nervous Grand
Marshal, and Simon Petrovich with his band of dramatists, guarded by the
indefatigable Sasha. All others
slept,--and the curious crowd outside, listening to the music, stole silently
away; down in Kinesma, the mothers ceased to scold their children, and the
merchants whispered to each other in the bazaar; the captains of vessels
floating on the Volga directed their men by gestures; the mechanics laid aside
hammer and axe, and lighted their pipes.
Great silence fell upon the land, and continued unbroken so long as
Prince Alexis and his guests slept the sleep of the just and the tipsy.
By night, however, they were
all awake and busily preparing for the diversions of the evening. The ball-room was illuminated by thousands of
wax-lights, so connected with inflammable threads, that the wicks could all be
kindled in a moment. A pyramid of
tar-barrels had been erected on each side of the castle-gate, and every hill or
mound on the opposite bank of the
After the Polonaise, and a
few stately minuets, (copied from the court of Elizabeth), the company were
ushered into the theatre. The hour of
Simon Petrovitch had struck: with the inspiration smuggled to him by Prince
Boris, he had arranged a performance which he felt to be his masterpiece. Anxiety as to its reception kept him
sober. The overture had ceased, the
spectators were all in their seats, and now the curtain rose. The background was a growth of enormous,
sickly toad-stools, supposed to be clouds.
On the stage stood a girl of eighteen, (the handsomest in Kinesma), in
hoops and satin petticoat, powdered hair, patches, and high-heeled shoes. She held a fan in one hand, and a bunch of
marigolds in the other. After a deep and
graceful curtsy to the company, she came forward and said,--
"I am the goddess
Venus. I have come to
Thunder was heard, and a car
rolled upon the stage. Jupiter sat
therein, in a blue coat, yellow vest, ruffled shirt and three-cornered
hat. One hand held a bunch of
thunderbolts, which he occasionally lifted and shook; the other, a gold-headed
cane.
"Here am, I
Jupiter," said he; "what does Venus desire?"
A poetical dialogue then
followed, to the effect that the favorite of the goddess, Prince Alexis of
Kinesma, was about sending his son, Prince Boris, into the gay world, wherein
himself had already displayed all the gifts of all the divinities of
"What I asked for
Prince Alexis was for HIS sake: what I ask for the son is for the father's
sake."
Jupiter shook his
thunderbolt and called "Apollo!"
Instantly the stage was
covered with explosive and coruscating fires,--red, blue, and golden,--and amid
smoke, and glare, and fizzing noises, and strong chemical smells, Apollo
dropped down from above. He was accustomed
to heat and smoke, being the cook's assistant, and was sweated down to a weight
capable of being supported by the invisible wires. He wore a yellow caftan, and wide blue silk
trousers. His yellow hair was twisted
around and glued fast to gilded sticks, which stood out from his head in a
circle, and represented rays of light.
He first bowed to Prince Alexis, then to the guests, then to Jupiter,
then to Venus. The matter was explained
to him.
He promised to do what he
could towards favoring the world with a second generation of the beauty, grace,
intellect, and nobility of character which had already won his regard. He thought, however, that their gifts were
unnecessary, since the model was already in existence, and nothing more could
be done than to IMITATE it.
(Here there was another
meaning bow towards Prince Alexis,--a bow in which Jupiter and Venus
joined. This was the great point of the
evening, in the opinion of Simon Petrovitch.
He peeped through a hole in one of the clouds, and, seeing the delight
of Prince Alexis and the congratulations of his friends, immediately took a
large glass of
The Graces were then
summoned, and after them the Muses--all in hoops, powder, and paint. Their songs had the same burden,--intense
admiration of the father, and good-will for the son, underlaid with a delicate
doubt. The close was a chorus of all the
deities and semi-deities in praise of the old Prince, with the accompaniment of
fireworks. Apollo rose through the air
like a frog, with his blue legs and yellow arms wide apart; Jupiter's chariot
rolled off; Venus bowed herself back against a mouldy cloud; and the Muses came
forward in a bunch, with a wreath of laurel, which they placed upon the
venerated head.
Sasha was dispatched to
bring the poet, that he might receive his well-earned praise and reward. But alas for Simon Petrovitch? His legs had already doubled under him. He was awarded fifty rubles and a new caftan,
which he was not in a condition to accept until several days afterward.
The supper which followed
resembled the dinner, except that there were fewer dishes and more
bottles. When the closing course of
sweatmeats had either been consumed or transferred to the pockets of the
guests, the Princess Martha retired with the ladies. The guests of lower rank followed; and there
remained only some fifteen or twenty, who were thereupon conducted by Prince
Alexis to a smaller chamber, where he pulled off his coat, lit his pipe, and
called for brandy. The others followed
his example, and their revelry wore out the night.
Such was the festival which
preceded the departure of Prince Boris for
IV.
Before following the young
Prince and his fortunes, in the capital, we must relate two incidents which
somewhat disturbed the ordered course of life in the
It must be stated, as one
favorable trait in the character of Prince Alexis, that, however brutally he
treated his serfs, he allowed no other man to oppress them. All they had and were--their services,
bodies, lives--belonged to him; hence injustice towards them was disrespect
towards their lord. Under the fear which
his barbarity inspired lurked a brute-like attachment, kept alive by the
recognition of this quality.
One day it was reported to
him that Gregor, a merchant in the bazaar at Kinesma, had cheated the wife of
one of his serfs in the purchase of a piece of cloth. Mounting his horse, he rode at once to
Gregor's booth, called for the cloth, and sent the entire piece to the woman, in
the merchant's name, as a confessed act of reparation.
"Now, Gregor, my
child," said he, as he turned his horse's head, "have a care in
future, and play me no more dishonest tricks.
Do you hear? I shall come and
take your business in hand myself, if the like happens again."
Not ten days passed before
the like--or something fully as bad--did happen. Gregor must have been a new comer in Kinesma,
or he would not have tried the experiment.
In an hour from the time it was announced, Prince Alexis appeared in the
bazaar with a short whip under his arm.
He dismounted at the booth
with an ironical smile on his face, which chilled the very marrow in the
merchant's bones.
"Ah, Gregor, my
child," he shouted, "you have already forgotten my commands. Holy St. Nicholas, what a bad memory the boy
has! Why, he can't be trusted to do
business: I must attend to the shop
myself. Out of the way! march!"
He swung his terrible whip;
and Gregor, with his two assistants, darted under the counter, and made their
escape. The Prince then entered the
booth, took up a yard-stick, and cried out in a voice which could be heard from
one end of the town to the other,--"Ladies and gentlemen, have the
kindness to come and examine our stock of goods! We have silks and satins, and all kinds of
ladies' wear; also velvet, cloth, cotton, and linen for the gentlemen. Will your Lordships deign to choose? Here are stockings and handkerchiefs of the
finest. We understand how to measure,
your Lordships, and we sell cheap. We
give no change, and take no small money.
Whoever has no cash may have credit.
Every thing sold below cost, on account of closing up the
establishment. Ladies and gentlemen,
give us a call?"
Everybody in Kinesma flocked
to the booth, and for three hours Prince Alexis measured and sold, either for
scant cash or long credit, until the last article had been disposed of and the
shelves were empty. There was great
rejoicing in the community over the bargains made that day. When all was over, Gregor was summoned, and
the cash received paid into his hands.
"It won't take you long
to count it," said the Prince; but here is a list of debts to be
collected, which will furnish you with pleasant occupation, and enable you to
exercise your memory. Would your Worship
condescend to take dinner to-day with your humble assistant? He would esteem it a favor to be permitted to
wait upon you with whatever his poor house can supply."
Gregor gave a glance at the
whip under the Prince's arm, and begged to be excused. But the latter would take no denial, and
carried out the comedy to the end by giving the merchant the place of honor at
his table, and dismissing him with the present of a fine pup of his favorite
breed. Perhaps the animal acted as a
mnemonic symbol, for Gregor was never afterwards accused of forgetfulness.
If this trick put the Prince
in a good humor, some thing presently occurred which carried him to the
opposite extreme. While taking his
customary siesta one afternoon, a wild young fellow--one of his noble poor relations,
who "sponged" at the castle--happened to pass along a corridor
outside of the very hall where his Highness was snoring. Two ladies in waiting looked down from an
upper window. The young fellow perceived
them, and made signs to attract their attention. Having succeeded in this, he attempted, by
all sorts of antics and grimaces, to make them laugh or speak; but he failed,
for the slumber-flag waved over them, and its fear was upon them. Then, in a freak of incredible rashness, he
sang, in a loud voice, the first line of a popular ditty, and took to his
heels.
No one had ever before dared
to insult the sacred quiet. The Prince
was on his feet in a moment, and rushed into the corridor, (dropping his mantle
of sables by the way,) shouting.--
"Bring me the wretch
who sang!"
The domestics scattered
before him, for his face was terrible to look upon. Some of them had heard the voice, indeed, but
not one of them had seen the culprit, who al ready lay upon a heap of hay in
one of the stables, and appeared to be sunk in innocent sleep.
"Who was it? who was
it?" yelled the Prince, foaming at the mouth with rage, as he rushed from
chamber to chamber.
At last he halted at the top
of the great flight of steps leading into the court-yard, and repeated his demand
in a voice of thunder.
The servants, trembling,
kept at a safe distance, and some of them ventured to state that the offender
could not be discovered. The Prince
turned and entered one of the state apartments, whence came the sound of porcelain
smashed on the floor, and mirrors shivered on the walls. Whenever they heard that sound, the immates
of the castle knew that a hurricane was let loose.
They deliberated hurriedly
and anxiously. What was to be done? In his fits of blind animal rage, there was
nothing of which the Prince was not capable, and the fit could be allayed only
by finding a victim. No one, however,
was willing to be a Curtius for the others, and meanwhile the storm was
increasing from minute to minute. Some
of the more active and shrewd of the household pitched upon the leader of the
band, a simple-minded, good-natured serf, named Waska. They entreated him to take upon himself the
crime of having sung, offering to have his punishment mitigated in every
possible way. He was proof against their
tears, but not against the money which they finally offered, in order to avert
the storm. The agreement was made,
although Waska both scratched his head and shook it, as he reflected upon the
probable result.
The Prince, after his work
of destruction, again appeared upon the steps, and with hoarse voice and
flashing eyes, began to announce that every soul in the castle should receive a
hundred lashes, when a noise was heard in the court, and amid cries of
"Here he is!" "We've got him, Highness!" the poor Waska,
bound hand and foot, was brought forward.
They placed him at the bottom of the steps. The Prince descended until the two stood face
to face. The others looked on from
courtyard, door, and window. A pause
ensued, during which no one dared to breathe.
At last Prince Alexis spoke,
in a loud and terrible voice--
"It was you who sang
it?"
"Yes, your Highness, it
was I," Waska replied, in a scarcely audible tone, dropping his head and
mechanically drawing his shoulders together, as if shrinking from the coming
blow.
It was full three minutes
before the Prince again spoke. He still
held the whip in his hand, his eyes fixed and the muscles of his face
rigid. All at once the spell seemed to dissolve:
his hand fell, and he said in his ordinary voice--
"You sing remarkably
well. Go, now: you shall have ten rubles
and an embroidered caftan for your singing."
But any one would have made
a great mistake who dared to awaken Prince Alexis a second time in the same
manner.
V.
Prince Boris, in
Athough but
three-and-twenty, he would never know the rich, vital glow with which youth
rushes to clasp all forms of sensation.
He had seen, almost daily,
in his father's castle, excess in its most excessive development. It had grown to be repulsive, and he knew not
how to fill the void in his life. With a
single spark of genius, and a little more culture, he might have become a
passable author or artist; but he was doomed to be one of those deaf and dumb
natures that see the movements of the lips of others, yet have no conception of
sound. No wonder his savage old father
looked upon him with contempt, for even his vices were without strength or
character.
The dark winter days passed
by, one by one, and the first week of Lent had already arrived to subdue the
glittering festivities of the court, when the only genuine adventure of the
season happened to the young Prince. For
adventures, in the conventional sense of the word, he was not distinguished;
whatever came to him must come by its own force, or the force of destiny.
One raw, gloomy evening, as
dusk was setting in, he saw a female figure in a droschky, which was about
turning from the great Morskoi into the Gorokhovaya (Pea) Street. He noticed, listlessly, that the lady was
dressed in black, closely veiled, and appeared to be urging the istvostchik (driver)
to make better speed. The latter cut his
horse sharply: it sprang forward, just at the turning, and the droschky,
striking a lamp-post was instantly overturned.
The lady, hurled with great force upon the solidly frozen snow, lay
motionless, which the driver observing, he righted the sled and drove off at
full speed, without looking behind him.
It was not inhumanity, but fear of the knout that hurried him away.
Prince Boris looked up and
down the Morskoi, but perceived no one near at hand. He then knelt upon the snow, lifted the
lady's head to his knee, and threw back her veil. A face so lovely, in spite of its deadly
pallor, he had never before seen. Never
had he even imagined so perfect an oval, such a sweet, fair forehead, such
delicately pencilled brows, so fine and straight a nose, such wonderful beauty
of mouth and chin. It was fortunate that
she was not very severely stunned, for Prince Boris was not only ignorant of
the usual modes of restoration in such cases, but he totally forgot their
necessity, in his rapt contemplation of the lady's face. Presently she opened her eyes, and they
dwelt, expressionless, but bewildering in their darkness and depth, upon his
own, while her consciousness of things slowly returned.
She strove to rise, and
Boris gently lifted and supported her.
She would have withdrawn from his helping arm, but was still too weak
from the shock. He, also, was confused
and (strange to say) embarrassed; but he had self-possession enough to shout,
"Davei!" (Here!) at random.
The call was answered from the
"Where?" asked the
istvostchik.
Boris was about to answer
"Anywhere!" but the lady whispered in a voice of silver sweetness,
the name of a remote street, near the
As the Prince wrapped the
ends of his sable pelisse about her, he noticed that her furs were of the
common foxskin worn by the middle classes.
They, with her heavy boots and the threadbare cloth of her garments, by
no means justified his first suspicion,--that she was a grande dame, engaged in
some romantic "adventure." She
was not more than nineteen or twenty years of age, and he felt--without knowing
what it was--the atmosphere of sweet, womanly purity and innocence which
surrounded her. The shyness of a lost
boyhood surprised him.
By the time they had reached
the Litenie, she had fully recovered her consciousness and a portion of her
strength. She drew away from him as much
as the narrow sled would allow.
"You have been very
kind, sir, and I thank you," she said; "but I am now able to go home
without your further assistance."
"By no means,
lady!" said the Prince. "The
streets are rough, and here are no lamps.
If a second accident were to happen, you would be helpless. Will you not allow me to protect you?"
She looked him in the
face. In the dusky light, she saw not
the peevish, weary features of the worldling, but only the imploring softness
of his eyes, the full and perfect honesty of his present emotion. She made no further objection; perhaps she
was glad that she could trust the elegant stranger.
Boris, never before at a
loss for words, even in the presence of the Empress, was astonished to find how
awkward were his attempts at conversation.
She was presently the more self-possessed of the two, and nothing was
ever so sweet to his ears as the few commonplace remarks she uttered. In spite of the darkness and the chilly air,
the sled seemed to fly like lightning.
Before he supposed they had made half the way, she gave a sign to the
istvostchik, and they drew up before a plain house of squared logs.
The two lower windows were
lighted, and the dark figure of an old man, with a skull-cap upon his head, was
framed in one of them. It vanished as
the sled stopped; the door was thrown open and the man came forth hurriedly,
followed by a Russian nurse with a lantern.
"Helena, my child, art
thou come at last? What has befallen
thee?"
He would evidently have said
more, but the sight of Prince Boris caused him to pause, while a quick shade of
suspicion and alarm passed over his face.
The Prince stepped forward, instantly relieved of his unaccustomed
timidity, and rapidly described the accident.
The old nurse Katinka, had meanwhile assisted the lovely
The old man turned to
follow, shivering in the night-air.
Suddenly recollecting himself, he begged the Prince to enter and take
some refreshments, but with the air and tone of a man who hopes that his
invitation will not be accepted. If such
was really his hope, he was disappointed; for Boris instantly commanded the
istvostchik to wait for him, and entered the humble dwelling.
The apartment into which he
was ushered was spacious, and plainly, yet not shabbily furnished. A violoncello and clavichord, with several
portfolios of music, and scattered sheets of ruled paper, proclaimed the
profession or the taste of the occupant.
Having excused himself a moment to look after his daughter's condition,
the old man, on his return, found Boris
turning over the leaves of a musical work.
"You see my
profession," he said. "I teach
music?"
"Do you not
compose?" asked the Prince.
"That was once my
ambition. I was a pupil of Sebastian
Bach.
But--circumstances--necessity--brought me here. Other lives changed the direction of mine. It was right!"
"You mean your
daughter's?" the Prince gently suggested.
"Hers and her
mother's. Our story was well known in
Further conversation was
interrupted by the entrance of
In spite of the singular
delight which her presence occasioned him, he was careful not to prolong his
visit beyond the limits of strict etiquette.
His name, Boris Alexeivitch, only revealed to his guests the name of his
father, without his rank; and when he stated that he was employed in one of the
Departments, (which was true in a measure, for he was a staff officer,) they
could only look upon him as being, at best, a member of some family whose
recent elevation to the nobility did not release them from the necessity of
Government service. Of course he
employed the usual pretext of wishing to study music, and either by that or
some other stratagem managed to leave matters in such a shape that a second
visit could not occasion surprise.
As the sled glided homewards
over the crackling snow, he was obliged to confess the existence of a new and
powerful excitement. Was it the chance
of an adventure, such as certain of his comrades were continually seeking? He thought not; no, decidedly not. Was it--could it be--love? He really could not tell; he had not the
slightset idea what love was like.
VI.
It was something at least,
that the plastic and not un-virtuous nature of the young man was directed
towards a definite object. The elements
out of which he was made, although somewhat diluted, were active enough to make
him uncomfortable, so long as they remained in a confused state. He had very little power of introversion, but
he was sensible that his temperament was changing,--that he grew more cheerful
and contented with life,--that a chasm somewhere was filling up,--just in
proportion as his acquaintance with the old music-master and his daughter
became more familiar. His visits were
made so brief, were so adroitly timed and accounted for by circumstances, that
by the close of Lent he could feel justified in making the Easter call of a
friend, and claim its attendant privileges, without fear of being repulsed.
That Easter call was an era
in his life. At the risk of his wealth
and rank being suspected, he dressed himself in new and rich garments, and
hurried away towards the Smolnoi. The
old nurse, Katinka, in her scarlet gown, opened the door for him, and was the
first to say, "Christ is arisen!"
What could he do but give her the usual kiss? Formerly he had kissed hundreds of serfs, men
and women, on the sacred anniversary, with a passive good-will. But Katinka's kiss seemed bitter, and he
secretly rubbed his mouth after it. The
music-master came next: grisly though he might be, he was the St. Peter who
stood at the gate of heaven. Then
entered
That night Prince Boris
wrote a long letter to his "chere maman," in piquantly misspelt
French, giving her the gossip of the court, and such family news as she usually
craved. The purport of the letter,
however, was only disclosed in the final paragraph, and then in so negative a
way that it is doubtful whether the Princess Martha fully understood it.
"Poing de mariajes pour
moix!" he wrote,--but we will drop the original,--"I don't think of
such a thing yet. Pashkoff dropped a
hint, the other day, but I kept my eyes shut.
Perhaps you remember her?--fat, thick lips, and crooked teeth. Natalie D---- said to me, "Have you ever
been in love, Prince?" HAVE I,
MAMAN? I did not know what answer to
make. What is love? How does one feel, when one has it? They laugh at it here, and of course I should
not wish to do what is laughable. Give
me a hint: forewarned is forearmed, you know,"--etc., etc.
Perhaps the Princess Martha
DID suspect something; perhaps some word in her son's letter touched a secret
spot far back in her memory, and renewed a dim, if not very intelligible,
pain. She answered his question at
length, in the style of the popular French romances of that day. She had much to say of dew and roses,
turtledoves and the arrows of Cupid.
"Ask thyself," she
wrote, "whether felicity comes with her presence, and distraction with her
absence,--whether her eyes make the morning brighter for thee, and her tears
fall upon thy heart like molten lava,--whether heaven would be black and dismal
without her company, and the flames of hell turn into roses under her
feet."
It was very evident that the
good Princess Martha had never felt--nay, did not comprehend--a passion such as
she described.
Prince Boris, however, whose
veneration for his mother was unbounded, took her words literally, and applied
the questions to himself. Although he
found it difficult, in good faith and sincerity, to answer all of them
affirmatively (he was puzzled, for instance, to know the sensation of molten
lava falling upon the heart), yet the general conclusion was inevitable:
Instead of returning to
Kinesma for the summer, as had been arranged, he determined to remain in
"Perhaps the brat will
make a man of himself, after all."
It was not many weeks, in
fact, before the expected petition came to hand. The Princess Martha had also foreseen it, and
instructed her son how to attack his father's weak side. The latter was furiously jealous of certain
other noblemen of nearly equal wealth, who were with him at the court of Peter
the Great, as their sons now were at that of
There was cursing at the
castle when the letter arrived. Many
serfs felt the sting of the short whip, the slumber-flag was hoisted five
minutes later than usual, and the consumption of
Before midsummer he was
"Whatever you are,
Boris, I will be faithful to you."
VII.
Leaving Boris to discover
the exact form and substance of the passion of love, we will return for a time
to the
Whether the Princess Martha
conjectured what had transpired in
When Mishka, the dissipated
bear already described, bit off one of the ears of Basil, a hunter belonging to
the castle, and Basil drew his knife and plunged it into Mishka's heart, Prince
Alexis punished the hunter by cutting off his other ear, and sending him away
to a distant estate. A serf, detected in
eating a few of the pickled cherries intended for the Prince's botvinia, was
placed in a cask, and pickled cherries packed around him up to the chin. There he was kept until almost flayed by the
acid. It was ordered that these two delinquents
should never afterwards be called by any other names than "Crop-Ear"
and "Cherry."
But the Prince's severest
joke, which, strange to say, in no wise lessened his popularity among the
serfs, occurred a month or two later.
One of his leading passions was the chase,--especially the chase in his
own forests, with from one to two hundred men, and no one to dispute his
Lordship. On such occasions, a huge
barrel of wine, mounted upon a sled, always accompanied the crowd, and the
quantity which the hunters received depended upon the satisfaction of Prince
Alexis with the game they collected.
Winter had set in early and
suddenly, and one day, as the Prince and his retainers emerged from the forest
with their forenoon's spoil, and found themselves on the bank of the
They were scattered over a
slope gently falling from the dark, dense fir-forest towards the
Some began to amuse
themselves by flinging the clean-picked bones of deer and hare along the glassy
ice of the
"Oh, by St. Nicholas
the Miracle-Worker, I'll give you better sport than that, ye knaves! Here's the very place for a reisak,--do you
hear me children?--a reisak! Could there
be better ice? and then the rocks to jump from!
Come, children, come! Waska,
Ivan, Daniel, you dogs, over with you!"
Now the reisak was a gymnastic
performance peculiar to old
Waska, Ivan, Daniel, and a
number of others, sprang to the brink of the rocks and looked over. The wall was not quite perpendicular, some
large fragments having fallen from above and lodged along the base. It would therefore require a bold leap to
clear the rocks and strike the smooth ice.
They hesitated,--and no wonder.
Prince Alexis howled with
rage and disappointment.
"The Devil take you,
for a pack of whimpering hounds!" he cried. "Holy Saints! they are afraid to make a
reisak!"
Ivan crossed himself and
sprang. He cleared the rocks, but,
instead of bursting through the ice with his head, fell at full length upon his
back.
"O knave!" yelled
the Prince,--"not to know where his head is! Thinks it's his back! Give him fifteen stripes."
Which was instantly done.
The second attempt was
partially successful. One of the hunters
broke through the ice, head foremost, going down, but he failed to come up
again; so the feat was only half performed.
The Prince became more
furiously excited.
"This is the way I'm
treated!" he cried. "He
forgets all about finishing the reisak, and goes to chasing sterlet! May the carps eat him up for an ungrateful
vagabond! Here, you beggars!"
(addressing the poor relations,) "take your turn, and let me see whether
you are men."
Only one of the frightened
parasites had the courage to obey. On
reaching the brink, he shut his eyes in mortal fear, and made a leap at
random. The next moment he lay on the
edge of the ice with one leg broken against a fragment of rock.
This capped the climax of
the Prince's wrath. He fell into a state
bordering on despair, tore his hair, gnashed his teeth, and wept bitterly.
"They will be the death
of me!" was his lament. "Not a
man among them! It wasn't so in the old
times. Such beautiful reisaks as I have
seen! But the people are becoming
women,--hares,--chickens,--skunks!
Villains, will you force me to kill you?
You have dishonored and disgraced me; I am ashamed to look my neighbors
in the face. Was ever a man so
treated?"
The serfs hung down their
heads, feeling somehow responsible for their master's misery. Some of them wept, out of a stupid sympathy
with his tears.
All at once he sprang down
from the cask, crying in a gay, triumphant tone,--
"I have it! Bring me Crop-Ear. He's the fellow for a reisak,--he can make
three, one after another."
One of the boldest ventured
to suggest that Crop-Ear had been sent away in disgrace to another of the
Prince's estates.
"Bring him here, I
say? Take horses, and don't draw rein
going or coming. I will not stir from
this spot until Crop-Ear comes."
With these words, he mounted
the barrel, and recommenced ladling out the wine. Huge fires were made, for the night was
falling, and the cold had become intense.
Fresh game was skewered and set to broil, and the tragic interlude of
the revel was soon forgotten.
Towards midnight the sound
of hoofs was heard, and the messengers arrived with Crop-Ear. But, although the latter had lost his ears,
he was not inclined to split his head.
The ice, meanwhile, had become so strong that a cannon-ball would have
made no impression upon it. Crop-Ear
simply threw down a stone heavier than himself, and, as it bounced and slid
along the solid floor, said to Prince Alexis,--
"Am I to go back,
Highness, or stay here?"
"Here, my son. Thou'rt a man. Come hither to me."
Taking the serf's head in
his hands, he kissed him on both cheeks.
Then he rode homeward through the dark, iron woods, seated astride on
the barrel, and steadying himself with his arms around Crop-Ear's and Waska's
necks.
VIII.
The health of the Princess Martha, always delicate, now began to fail rapidly. She was less and less able to endure her husband's savage humors