The fencing master, p.10
THE FENCING MASTER, page 10
Be quiet, you wretched flatterer; do you think to curry favour with him; no one has the least influence over me, I form my own judgment, do you hear, my own judgment; you were successful in the first encounter, we shall see if you emerge equally successfully from the second.”
Just then an officer appeared in front of the windows, leading a charger and carrying a lance.
“Here we are!” cried Constantine, dashing out of doors, “Come here,” said he, making me a sign to follow him; “and you, Lubenski, give him a sabre, a good sabre, a sabre that fits his hand, one of the Horseguards’ sabres. Ha! ha! we shall see. Look out for yourself, Mr. Fencing Master or I shall spit you through like the toads which are in my summer house. Do you remember the last one, Rodna, why, it lived for three days with a nail through its body.”
With these words Constantine mounted his horse, a wild creature from the steppes, whose mane and tail swept the ground. He made it perform the most intricate evolutions with marvellous skill, toying all the time with his lance. While this was going on, three or four sabres were brought to me and I was invited to choose one; my choice was soon made; I put out my hand and took the first that came.
“Come on! come on! are you ready?” cried the Czarevitch.
“Yes, your Highness.”
Then he set out at full gallop for the other end of the terrace.
“I suppose it is only a joke,” I asked of General Rodna.
“On the contrary,” he replied, “it is a matter of deadly earnest, your life and your position depend on the result; all I can say is that you had better defend yourself as if it were a fight in earnest.”
The affair had become more serious than I imagined; if it had been only a matter of defending myself and returning blow for blow, well, I would run the risk. But this was a different matter; seeing that my sabre was sharpened and his lance was pointed, the joke might terminate seriously. No matter! I was in for it now, my retreat was cut off; so summoning all my sang-froid and all my skill, I faced about to receive the Czarevitch.
He had already got to the end of the terrace and had just wheeled round. In spite of what the General had said, I still hoped that the whole affair was only a joke, when calling out for the last time, “Are you ready?” I saw him galloping towards me with his lance at the rest. Then at length I realized that my work was cut out to defend my life and I put myself on guard.
The horse came on like the wind, with the Czarevitch crouching down on his charger so that he was lost in the waves of its mane which streamed in the wind; I could see nothing but the top of his head between the ears of his mount. When he got to me, he tried to fell me with a blow full in the chest, but I turned aside the weapon with a parry in tierce, and leaping to one side, I let horse and rider dash past in full career, leaving me untouched. Seeing that he had missed his mark, the Czarevitch pulled up his horse short with marvellous skill.
“All right, all right,” he cried, “now for another turn.”
Then, without giving me time to reply, he caused his horse to pirouette on its hind legs, once more took up his position and asking me if I was ready, came at me more furiously even than on the former occasion. Once more I kept my eyes fixed on his and did not lose sight of a single movement; then in the very nick of time I parried in quarte and bounded to the right so that horse and rider again flashed by me as fruitlessly as they had done before.
The Czarevitch gave vent to a kind of a roar. He looked upon this tournament as a real fight, and was anxious that it should end to his advantage, so just when I thought he was tired of it, I saw him making preparations for a third encounter. By this time I had come to the conclusion that the joke had gone far enough and made up my mind to put an end to it.
Therefore the moment I saw him on the point of striking me, instead of contenting myself with a simple parry, I gave a violent blow at the shaft of his lance and cut it in two leaving the Czarevitch unarmed, then seizing the bridle of his horse, I, (not the Czarevitch this time), checked it so violently that it recoiled on its haunches; and at the same moment I held the point of my sabre at the Czarevitch’s breast. General Rodna uttered a terrible cry; he thought I was going to kill his Highness. Constantine had the same idea, for I saw him turn pale. But I immediately made a step to the rear and bowing to the Grand Duke remarked, “There your Highness, that is a specimen of what I can show your soldiers, if you still deem me fit to be their instructor.”
“Oh! my God! yes, you are fit enough and you shall have a regiment, or my name is not Lubenski, Lubenski!” he shouted leaping from his horse, take Pulk to the stables. Now do you come with me, I am going to write a recommendation on your petition.”
I followed the Grand Duke into his room, where he seized a pen and wrote at the end of my petition:
“I humbly beg to recommend the undersigned to your Imperial Majesty, believing him to be altogether worthy of obtaining the favour he solicits.”
“Now,” said he, “take your petition and present it to the Emperor in person. It means imprisonment if you are found talking to him; but, by the Lord, he who risks nothing gets nothing. Good-bye and if you are ever near Warsaw, come and see me.”
I bowed, delighted at having accomplished my purpose so satisfactorily, and jumping into my drosky I set off for St. Petersburg, taking with me my all powerful recommendation.
In the evening I called on Count Alexis and thanked him for the advice he had given me; I told him all that had happened, to the great alarm of Louise, and on the next day at ten o’clock in the morning I started for the Palace of Tsarkoe-Selo where the Emperor was residing, having made up my mind to stroll through the gardens until I met him and to risk the chance of imprisonment, which is the punishment meted out to all who present him with a petition.
CHAPTER VII
THE Imperial residence is situated at only three or four leagues distance from St. Petersburg, and yet the road thither presents an utterly different appearance from the one I had followed the day before when I went to Strelna. No longer were there magnificent villas and extensive vistas of the gulf of Finland, but in their place rich plains covered with teeming corn fields and verdant meadows wrested a few years ago by the science of agriculture from the gigantic fern-brakes which had held a peaceful sway there from the time of creation.
In less than an hour’s drive I found myself, after traversing the German colony, lost within a small chain of hills, and from the summit of one of them I was just able to distinguish the trees, the monuments and the five gilded domes of the chapel, which distinguish the dwelling place of the sovereign.
The Palace of Tsarkoe-Selo is situated on the exact site of a little cottage, where Peter the Great was in the habit of coming to drink milk. It had belonged to an old Dutchman, called Sara. The poor peasant died and Peter, who had conceived a great liking for the cottage on account of the magnificent view spread out before its windows, gave it to Catherine, with the land surrounding it, that she might build a farm there. Catherine sent for an architect, and explained exactly what she wanted. The architect, like all others of his profession, deliberately disobeyed his instructions, and built a mansion.
Nevertheless, this residence, though greatly improved since its original construction, appeared to Elizabeth quite out of keeping with the grandeur and position of a Russian Empress; so the paternal mansion was pulled down and a magnificent palace was built from the designs of Count Rastreti. The noble architect who had heard Versailles described as a masterpiece of sumptuousness, wished to surpass Versailles in splendour; and having been told, that of the Great King’s palace only the interior was gilded, he went one better in his palace by gilding all the exterior carvings and sculptures at Tsarkoe-Selo, — mouldings, cornices, caryatids, trophies, even the very roof itself. When all was finished, Elizabeth chose a magnificent day, and invited her whole court, as well as the ambassadors of the various powers, to come and inaugurate her dazzling country house. At sight of so much magnificence in such a strange position, everyone extolled it as the eighth wonder of the world, with the exception of the Marquis de La Chetardie, the French [ambassador, who, alone of the courtiers, said not a word, but on the contrary, began to gaze around him. Some what piqued at his apparent absent mindedness, the Empress asked him what he was looking for.
“What am I looking for, Madam?” replied the ambassador coldly; “in truth I was looking for a casket to hold this magnificent jewel.”
This was at the time when a quatrain gave one the entry to the Academy and immortality could be purchased by a witticism. Thus did M. de La Chetardie achieve immortality at St. Petersburg.
Unfortunately the architect had thought only of the summer, and completely forgotten the winter.
In the following spring it was necessary to carry out most costly repairs to the gilding, and as each winter wrought the same havoc and each spring necessitated the same renovations, Catherine II. decided to replace the metal by a simple coat of yellow paint; as to the roof it was settled that it should be coloured a delicate green, as is the custom at St. Petersburg.
The announcement of this change had hardly spread abroad before a speculator made his appearance and offered Catherine two hundred and forty thousand francs for all the gilt work which was to be destroyed. Catherine while thanking him for the offer, told him that she was not in the habit of selling her old clothes.
In the midst of her victories, her intrigues and her travels, she never ceased to take an interest in her favourite residence. For the elder of her grandchildren, the Little Alexander Palace was built about a hundred yards from the Imperial Castle, and M. Bush, her architect, planned some immense gardens, which lacked but one requisite — water.
Nevertheless M. Bush constructed canals, cascades and lakes, well satisfied that, to anyone who bears the title of Catherine the Great, and is in need of water, water will not be long in coming. As a matter of fact his successor Bauer discovered that M. Demidoff, the owner of a fine estate in the neighbourhood, had an excess of the very commodity his sovereign lacked; he explained to M. Demidoff the shortcomings of the Imperial gardens: and M. Demidoff, like a loyal servant, put his superfluity at Catherine’s disposal. Immediately and in spite of several obstacles, the water was to be seen pouring in from all sides, filling up lakes, spouting up in jets, and tumbling over cascades. Hence the bon mot of the poor Empress Elizabeth: “Let us fall out, if we must, with the whole of Europe, but never, never with M. Demidoff.”
In truth the whole Court might die of thirst should M. Demidoff in a moment of ill-humour will it so.
Brought up at Tsarkoe-Selo, Alexander inherited his grandmother’s love for the place. All the recollections of his childhood, that is to say the olden period of his life, clustered round this palace. On its lawns he had essayed his earliest footsteps, in its alleys he had learnt to ride, and on its lakes he had served his apprenticeship as a sailor! so, at the first signs of fine weather he would hurry to Tsarkoe-Selo, only to leave it at the first snowfall.
It was at Tsarkoe-Selo I had come to seek him and I flattered myself I should be successful. After a poor and hurried breakfast taken at a French hotel outside the gates, I entered the park, where, in spite of the sentries, the public may walk at will. As the early frosts were approaching the park was deserted. It is possible that they refrained from entering out of respect for the sovereign whom I was about to disturb. I was aware that he sometimes spent the whole day in wandering up and down the least frequented glades, so I struck into one haphazard, walking straight ahead, and almost certain, from the information I gathered, that I should end up by encountering him. Besides, even if chance did not favour me immediately there were in the meantime plenty of objects to distract and amuse me.
Presently I ran up against the Chinese village, a charming group of fifteen houses, each of which had its own porch, ice house and garden, and served as a residence for one of the Emperor’s aides-de-camp. The village is laid out in the shape of a star and at its centre is a pavilion intended for balls and concerts; a conservatory takes the place of an anteroom, and in the four corners of the edifice are four statues of Mandarins, life size and smoking pipes. One day, which happened to be her fifty-eighth birthday, Catherine was walking in the gardens with the Court and turning her steps in the direction of the conservatory, she was astonished to see clouds of smoke issuing from the pipes of the Mandarins, and as she gazed they began to nod their heads gracefully and to roll their eyes amorously. Catherine drew near to observe the phenomenon more closely. Then the four Chinamen descended from the pedestals, approached her and prostrated themselves at her feet in exact imitation of the traditional ceremonial of China and recited a number of complimentary verses. The four Mandarins were the Prince de Ligne, M. de Ségur, M. de Cobentzel, and Potemkin.
Leaving the Generals’ quarters I descended into the llamas’ enclosure. These denizens of the Cordilleras are a present from the Viceroy of Mexico to the Emperor Alexander. Of the nine that were sent, five have since died; but the four who withstood the climate have given birth to a numerous progeny and the latter who were born in the country will probably accustom themselves better to the climate than those which came over with their parents.
At a short distance from the menagerie in the midst of the French gardens and in the centre of a fine dining room is the famous Table of Olympus, in imitation of the Regent’s, a veritable Fairy feast, served by invisible waiters and cooks from a mysterious kitchen, where everything makes its appearance from beneath the ground as at the Opera. If the guests are in want of anything, a note is placed on a plate, the plate disappears as if by magic and five minutes later again appears bearing the article bespoken. So well are all contingencies provided for that on one occasion a pretty visitor, wishing to repair the disorder consequent upon a tête-à-tête, asked for some hair pins, without the least expectation of getting them; the plate ascended in triumph with a dozen pins.
Continuing my walk I came face to face with a pyramid and at its base sleeping the sleep of the just were Catherine’s three greyhounds. The epitaph composed by M. de Ségur for one of them does duty for all there. It is a compliment paid by the Empress to France in the person of her ambassador, for the Empress had also written an epitaph for one of them; and as her poem consisted of the only two rhymes she had composed in her life, naturally it ought to be there, the more so because in my opinion it will compare very favourably with the verses of the rival of the Prince de Ligne.
Here are M. de Ségur’s lines; they have the advantage of not only eulogising the defunct, but also of establishing her genealogy after a fashion, a matter of serious import to scientists.
EPITAPH ON ZEMIRE.
A favourite Greyhound Bitch of the Empress Catherine.
Ici mourut Zémire, et les Graces en deuil
Doivent jeter des fleurs sur son cercueil.
Comme Tom son aïeul, comme Lady sa mère,
Constante dans ses gouts, à la course légère,
Son seul dé faut était un peu d’humeur,
Mais ce dé faut venait d’un si bon cœur!
Quand on aime, on craint tout, Zémire aimait tant celle
Que tout le monde aime comme elle!
Voulez-vous qu’on vive en repos,
Ayant cent peuples pour rivaux?
Les Dieux témoins de sa tendresse Devaient à sa fidélité
Le don de l’Immortalité,
Pour qu’elle fût toujours auprès de sa Maîtresse.”
Now for Catherine’s own couplet:
Ci-git la Duchesse Anderson, Qui mordit Monsieur Rogerson.
(In English: Here died Zémire, and the mourning Graces must needs cast flowers upon her grave. Like Tom her grandsire and Lady her dam, she was constant in her affections, fleet in the chase; her only fault was a hot temper, hut this came from her very goodness of heart! When we love, we dread all rivalry, and Zemire loved so fondly her whom all love as devotedly as she! How should she live at ease, with a hundred Peoples for rivals? The Gods that witnessed her fidelity owed her surely the gift of immortality, that she might never be parted from her Mistress’s side.
Catherine couplet:
Here lies the Duchess Anderson
Who bit poor Mister Rogerson.
As for the third dog, though no one wrote her epitaph, she enjoyed even greater popularity than her two companions. She was called Sunderland after the Englishman who presented her to the Empress, and her death was very nearly the occasion of the most tragical misunderstanding that ever befell an unhappy financier.
One morning at daybreak Mr. Sunderland, a rich English capitalist, was aroused from his slumbers. He it was who had presented the beloved greyhound to the Empress and thanks to this gift had basked in the sunshine of her smiles for the last three years.
“Sir,” said his valet, “your house is surrounded by soldiers, and the head of the police insists upon speaking to you.”
“What does he want with me?” cries the banker leaping from his bed, and already alarmed at the mere announcement.
“I don’t know, sir,” replies the valet, “but it appears that it is a matter of the highest importance, which, so he says, can only be communicated direct to you.”
“Tell him to come in,” says Mr. Sunderland, hurrying into his dressing gown.
The valet goes out and reappears in a few minutes introducing his Excellency M. Reliev, and from his expression the banker detects at the first glance that he is the bearer of bad news. Nevertheless, the worthy Islander receives the head of the police with his customary politeness and handing him a chair begs him to be seated, but the latter though bowing his thanks remains standing, and in the most sorrowful tones addresses him.
“Mr. Sunderland, I would beg you to believe that I am distressed beyond measure, in spite of the honour that this proof of her confidence brings to me, at having been chosen by her Majesty, my most gracious sovereign, to carry out her orders, though their severity causes me anguish; yet doubtless some terrible crime has justified them.”
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