Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812

CHAPTER IV

For many a year after the tragic death of his father the new manor-lord, little Sasha Maximof, would not be induced to live at the estate. He was afraid of the woods, wherein for ever lurked, according to his morbid fancy, hoardes of ravening wolves intent upon his destruction; he was afraid of his serfs, a feeling originated and fostered by his mother, who was herself afraid of them, well knowing the hatred they had borne towards her husband and fearing lest their malice should be extended towards his child. She desired no more than Sasha to live in the country. The property was placed in the hands of a steward—somewhat more merciful than deposed Kakin—who contrived to extract a fat living for the widow and her son by exploiting their unfortunate serfs to the utmost limit permitted by the law. The Countess lived with Sasha in St. Petersburg where he saw little or nothing of his "betrothed" for two or three years, after which little Vera Demidof was sent to Paris to be educated in a French school. Vera's aunt, Demidof's sister, had been married to the French Minister at the Court of the Emperor Paul, after whose tragic end he had left the country and returned to Paris, taking with him his Russian wife. Demidof was proud of his French relations and was glad enough to allow his child to receive her education under such promising auspices.

At the age of sixteen Vera returned to St. Petersburg quite prepared to find her countrymen and women little better than barbarians as she had been taught by the elegant Parisian folk to believe them.

"Bears, chérie, you will find them, every one," her French relations assured her; "they have no manners and no education, how should they? and your fiancé, he will be a bear like the rest, you will run from him, run back to France; we shall find you a fiancé who is not a bear!"

"Bear or no bear, we are pledged to one another and there will be no running away from him!" said Vera. Whereat her French relatives shrugged their shoulders and said, "This betrothal of babes, what does it signify? It was a very pretty game for children, but a thing to be forgotten when the doll is put away and the skirts are lengthened."

"In Russia they think differently," Vera replied. "My mother looks upon the betrothal as binding, I know. The law and the Church both would have something to say before the contract could be broken."

"Well, let us see first what he is like; if he should be an impossible, without doubt both the Church and the law will listen to reason. What, are two people to be bound to one another for life if they desire it not? God forbid!"

"Maybe we shall both desire it when we meet, who knows?" Vera laughed. "We are talking in the dark, since Sasha and I have not met for many years. But if each is repulsive to the other the contract may perhaps be set aside, by mutual agreement."

"That is sensible," said Vera's aunt; "the danger is lest he shall be attracted by you, while you feel no counter-attraction for him, or vice versâ."

"I will keep a guard upon my heart, aunt," laughed Vera.

The first meeting, after many years, between the young people took place soon after this conversation at the annual reception of the corps of cadets in St. Petersburg. This corps consisted of members of the petite noblesse—the boyarin families of Russia, destined for military service in the more aristocratic regiments. The Emperor Paul, shocked by the methods of his mother, Catherine the Great, in the matter of distribution of commissions to the sons of her boyars, had instituted this corps of cadets as a much-needed measure of reform, and indeed the step was taken not a moment too soon for the good of the country.

As the great Catherine's system of distributing commissions to the members of that class of her subjects which seems to have been her enfant gâté, the petite noblesse, is somewhat unique, I will ask permission to digress for a moment in order to give the reader some idea of her method and of the abuses to which it gradually led.

The thing developed gradually and attained the height of absurdity only when the Empress was an old woman.

Commissions in the Guards were at this time regarded as gifts from the sovereign to her faithful boyars and claimable by every boyar, if he so desired, for the benefit of his children. They were issued on demand, and were not, at first, applied for until the youth destined to enjoy the privilege had reached a time of life when a commission in the army might fairly be given to him; but since the officers of the Guards received liberal pay and were treated with marked kindness and indulgence by the sovereign, it occurred to certain boyars that it would be a pity to waste several years of the best part of the lives of their sons, years which might be spent so profitably in drawing pay and accumulating seniority in the Guards. Therefore certain aspiring parents applied for commissions for their sons at the age of fifteen; and—no objection being made—it soon became the custom to issue commissions to lads of this age.

Gradually the limit of age decreased. First commissions were demanded for boys of twelve, and obtained; then the age dropped to ten, then to eight, to six, to three. No duties were required of all these young officers, who were not even obliged to draw their own pay; their fathers were permitted to do this for them. But promotion proceeded in each case with regularity, and soon it was a common thing to see a promising young officer of seven years toddling at his mother's side in the epaulettes of a captain of the Guards.

But the matter did not end here. It now became the fashion to apply for commissions for male children as soon as born. Lieutenants were to be seen carried about in their nurses' arms and captains rode in perambulators, while majors and colonels of ten and twelve strutted about the streets, to the pride and no small profit of their happy parents. One would suppose that the comedy had at this point reached the very limit of absurdity; but this was not so.

It occurred to some ingenious boyar about to enter into the delights and responsibilities of wedlock to apply for commissions for a son or two in advance. If his marriage should be blessed with offspring—well; if not, well also; for no one would be likely to inquire into the matter as long as the old Empress lived, and the pay of two or three officers of the Guards—non-existent, certainly, but steadily rising in rank for all that—would be a comfortable addition to the income of his parents that might have been.

This was the millennium of Catherine's enfants gâtés, the boyars, and it came to an end with her death and the accession of Paul, who had long watched the scandal from his retreat at Gatchina and watched it with helpless displeasure and anger. Paul was a strict disciplinarian and the sight of the degradation of the Guards maddened him. One of his first acts after his accession was to hold a review of the corps, a review at which every officer was compelled to be present or to hand in his resignation.

That must indeed have been the weirdest parade upon record. Officers in arms, officers in perambulators, officers clinging to their mothers' skirts; shy and self-conscious majors of ten wandering helplessly about the Champs de Mars, colonels of twelve and fourteen asking one another to which regiment they belonged, and the stern, angry Emperor surveying the motley scene as the executioner eyes his victim before dealing the fatal stroke which is to end him once and for all.

In spite of his anger, the Tsar Paul displayed some humour upon this occasion, perhaps with the intention of impressing upon all witnesses the absurdity of the prevailing state of affairs. Every officer was called upon to take his proper place with his own battalion, and to obey the words of command presently issued by the few remaining veterans of the various regiments.

Naturally the parade began and ended in confusion; a wild medley of nursemaids and perambulators, of crying children and bewildered boys; all officers who were unable to perform the duties expected of them were called upon to resign their commissions, and with this historic review the millennium of Catherine's baby-guards came to a timely end.

Young Sasha Maximof, Vera's betrothed, had been duly enrolled, like most of his fellows of boyar rank, among Catherine's officers of the sinecure regiments, but his mother, unlike many of the parents of those young warriors, had taken neither fright nor offence at the action of the Emperor Paul, but like a sensible woman had entered her son's name as a cadet in the newly organised institution for the education of youths desirous of entering the army as bona-fide officers. Sasha had been but six years old at the time of the catastrophe, and had then enjoyed the rank and pay of a captain. He had, of course, resigned his commission, but had rejoined as a cadet of the Imperial Corps upon reaching the age of fourteen. He was now nineteen and one of the seniors of the establishment—a nice-looking youth of medium height and good appearance. If one may use a modern expression to describe Sasha's attitude towards life at this time, he may be said to have "fancied himself" to a very considerable extent; he was, indeed, a fair example of the Russian youth of his day, when over the uncouth and bearlike manners of the old Muscovite type was gradually stealing the veneer of Western civilisation.

Sasha Maximof was a lady's man; he was generally liked and admired by the women, and knew it. He had already been through several affaires du cœur, and if he ever recollected the fact that he was a betrothed man, it is probable that he thought lightly of the matter, regarding the whole question as one of expediency. The dower to be had with his fiancée was a handsome one, he knew; but there were plenty of good dowers available for a man like himself; he might eventually decide to regard his engagement as binding—it depended upon the girl; mediocrity would not suit him.

"It will be a wonder, or rather she will have to be one," he remarked one day when his mother, observing his attitude towards some damsel whom he was accustomed to meet in society, casually reminded him of the existing contract to which he was a party. "She will have to be a wonder if that silly betrothal is to come to anything!"

CHAPTER V

Little sixteen-year-old Vera Demidof looked very well in her stylish Parisian clothes. She was a pretty girl of true Russian type, and, Russian like, was an adept in the art of keeping up a constant flow of light talk, half in her native language and half in French, a fashion in polite society then as now. Vera was with her mother, and with them stood or moved about among the crowd of visitors at the annual function of the corps of cadets a young cousin, one Constantine Demidof, a youthful member of the corps.

"Tell me the notables," said Vera, "especially the military ones, but don't expect me to admire any of our poor Russians after the smart-looking French officers! As for your cadets—bah!—you are bigger than the French, perhaps, but clumsier; and your manners compared with theirs—the cadets here, I mean—oh! you are bears, my friend, and they are angels. Imagine, Constantine, mon ami, I have spoken to Ney—the bravest of the brave—only think of it; and one day the Emperor himself, beautiful man, smiled upon me."

"Oh, come," said Constantine, "if you speak of emperors and beautiful men, your Napoleon is a mere tub-man, and not to be named in comparison with our Emperor. You have not yet seen Alexander? A very different person from his unbeautiful father Paul, wait and see, he will be here in five minutes. Your Sasha Maximof is to receive a prize at his hands, lucky Sasha!"

"Sasha a prize—oh, I am glad!" exclaimed Vera—"and for what?"

"For fencing; he is the best fencer of all here; see, he is still busy with that girl, his latest craze; in charity we will hope that he has not yet seen you."

"If he did, I think he would not recognise me; he does not know I am here and it is five years since we met. Presently you shall go and bring him to me, but not yet. Tell me, Constantine, is Sasha liked here?"

Constantine glanced at his cousin; he caught her eye and smiled.

"Some people like him, I suppose," he said.

"Of whom Constantine Demidof is evidently not one," said Vera, laughing merrily. "Why not, my friend?"

"How should I? I scarcely know him, he is two years senior to me here, and that means much."

"I see. I should say, to look at him, that he has a good opinion of himself."

"Oh, he certainly has that," Constantine laughed. "He is thought good-looking, you know, and the girls flatter him, I suppose."

"Nevertheless his clothes fit very badly. In Parisian clothes he might look well, yes, he is not bad; you shall bring him to me, presently, but do not say who I am; you shall say that there is a lady who desires to have him presented to her."

At this moment the Emperor Alexander entered the room, preceded by an aide-de-camp, who first cleared the space about the doorway in order that his Majesty might enter with effect, which he certainly did.

The Emperor was a splendid-looking man, tall and straight as a pine stem, and handsome withal; there was perhaps but a single man in all Russia who was his superior in manly bearing and in stately presence, and that was his younger brother and successor, Nicholas, who had not his equal in Europe.

"Oh, he is splendid!" murmured Vera Demidof, gazing in wonder and admiration—"what a man! Oh, the sight of him makes me proud to be Russian after all!"

"Ha! it is good to hear you praise something which is not French. Your 'little Corporal' would look but a poor creature beside him, come, admit it!"

"Bah! one thinks of something else than inches when one sees Napoleon; nevertheless in the Tsar Alexander God has made a very fine man; they speak well of him in Paris as a wise ruler."

The Emperor now made a short speech to the cadets, after which he distributed the prizes, saying a word or two of praise or encouragement to each successful candidate. Sasha Maximof returned to his place, flushed and self-conscious, holding the sword of honour which the Tsar had presented to him with a word of approbation.

"How proud he looks!" said Vera; "I am glad he has won it and that he has been a success here."

Afterwards, when the Tsar and his suite had departed, she sent young Constantine to fetch Sasha to her side, in order that she might renew her acquaintance with him.

"Don't say who it is," she called after him as he moved away, somewhat unwillingly, to obey her behest. Constantine adored his cousin and would far rather have had her to himself.

"A lady wishes to have me presented?" said Sasha, frowning slightly. "Well, I'll come presently; I am busy entertaining another lady, as you perceive;—stop, which is she?"

Constantine pointed Vera out.

"What, that child?" exclaimed Maximof. "Tell her I have no time to talk to children."