The fencing master, p.20
THE FENCING MASTER, page 20
The Princess Louise for her part reciprocated the feeling which she had inspired. Alexander, who later on was to be described by Napoleon as “the handsomest and most distinguished of the Greeks,” was a delightful young man, full of charm and frankness, with such perfect good temper and of a character so sweet and kind, that possibly he might be thought a trifle timid. Nor did the simple-hearted young German Princess attempt to conceal her affection for the Czarevitch; so that Catherine decided to take advantage of their mutual feeling and told them shortly that they were intended for each other. Alexander danced for joy and Louise wept for her good fortune.
Then began the preparations for the marriage. The young Princess put her heart into all that was demanded of her, she learnt the Russian language, was instructed in the religion of the Greek Church, made a public profession of her new faith, received on her bare arms and beautiful feet the Holy unction and was proclaimed a Grand Duchess with the name of Elizabeth Alexievna which was also the name of Catherine the daughter of Alexis.
Notwithstanding Catherine’s foresight, this precocious marriage was nearly fatal to one of the parties and absolutely fatal to the other. Alexander just escaped being deaf; and the Empress was an elderly matron when she should have been a young girl. The Emperor was handsome and as we have said, had inherited from Catherine a loving disposition; yet scarcely had the wedding wreath faded on the brow of the bride before it was converted into a crown of thorns for the wife.
The accident by which Alexander came to the throne has been described. The profound grief which the young Emperor felt at the death of his father restored him to his wife. Although Paul was almost a stranger to her, she wept as if she had been his daughter; tears seek for the companionship of tears and days of unhappiness were retrieved by nights of bliss.
Austerlitz and Friedland, Tilsit and Erfurt, 1812 and 1814 are subjects for the historian. For ten years Alexander was illuminated by the light of Napoleon; then one day all men’s looks, while pursuing the conquered, were diverted from the conqueror; at this point we will return to our tale.
During these ten years the youth had grown into a man. The ardour of his early passion had by no means diminished. But in spite of his charming and gracious manner with women, in spite of his polished and kindly attitude towards men, from time to time gloomy clouds would pass across his brow; they were mute but terrible souvenirs of that night of bloodshed when he had heard his father writhing in his death agony. Little by little as he grew older, these recollections haunted him more frequently and threatened to develop into a chronic melancholy. He tried to fight against them by intellectual and physical exercise. Then would he dream of impossible reforms and make useless journeys.
Alexander, a pupil, as we have already said of the brother of General La Harpe, had retained from his literary education a penchant for ideology, which his travels in France, England and Holland had served to increase. Ideas of Liberty, imbibed during the French Occupation, were taking root everywhere, and the Emperor instead of repressing them, rather encouraged them by letting fall from his lips from time to time the word Constitution. Then Madame de Krudener appeared on the scene, and Mysticism joined hands with Ideology; the Emperor was a victim to this double influence at the time of my arrival in St. Petersburg.
As to his journeys, they appear fabulous to us Parisians. It has been calculated that the Emperor in his various excursions, both within and without the Empire, has already travelled two hundred thousand versts, something like fifty thousand leagues. What is strange about these journeys is that the time of his return is settled on the day of his departure. Thus the year before my journey, the Emperor set out for Little Russia on the 26th August, announcing that he would return on November the 2nd, and so strictly and invariably fixed beforehand is the distribution of his time, that after having traversed a distance of eighteen hundred and seventy leagues, Alexander returned to St. Petersburg on the given day and almost at the appointed hour.
The Emperor undertakes these long journeys, not only without guards, not only without an escort, but almost alone; and as one might expect, they give rise to many curious encounters and unexpected dangers, which are faced by the Emperor with the good humour of Henri IV. and the courage of Charles XII. For instance, on one occasion when travelling in Finland with Prince Peter Volkovski as his sole companion, just as the latter had fallen asleep, the heavy Imperial carriage, which was being dragged up a steep sandy mountain road, masters its team of horses and begins to slip back. Alexander in a moment, without rousing his companion, leaps to the ground and joins the coachman and the servants in pushing at the wheels. While this is taking place, the sleeper disturbed in his slumber by the sudden change of movement awakes and finds himself alone in the carriage; he looks about him in bewilderment and perceives the Emperor mopping his forehead; they had reached the top of the ascent.
On another occasion during an expedition in Little Russia, the Emperor got to a straggling village, and while the horses were being changed, thought he would like to exchange the jolting of the carriage for a few versts on foot; he told the postilions not to hurry, so that he might have time to get some distance ahead. Then, without any escort, and dressed in an ordinary military overcoat, he passes through the village and comes out on the other side where the road separates into two equally well worn tracks; not knowing which of the two he should take Alexander comes up to a man dressed in a uniform much the same as his own and smoking a pipe in the doorway of the last house.
“My friend,” says the Emperor, “which of these two roads must I take to get to.”
The man with the pipe eyes him from head to foot, and in his astonishment, that a simple traveller should dare to speak with such familiarity to a man of his importance, especially in Russia, where the distinction of rank fixes a great gulf between those in office and their subordinates, drawled out the words, “To the right,” between two whiffs of smoke.
“Excuse me, Sir,” said the Emperor raising his hat, “but one more question, if you please.”
“What?”
“Allow me to inquire what is your rank in the army?”
“Guess.”
“Perhaps you are a lieutenant?”
“Higher.”
“A Captain?”
“Higher.”
“A Major?”
“Still higher.”
“Commander of a battalion?”
“At last you have got it.” The Emperor bows. “And now it is my turn,” said the man with the pipe, “convinced that he was addressing an inferior, “who are you, if you please?”
“Guess!” answers the Emperor. “A Lieutenant?”
“Higher.”
“A Captain?”
“Go on.”
“A Major?”
“Higher.”
“Commander of a battalion?”
“Higher still.”
The man removes his pipe from his mouth.
“A Colonel?”
“You have not got it yet.”
“I presume your Excellency is a Lieutenant-General. “You are getting near.” The man raises his hand to his cap and stands at attention.
“Then your Highness must be a Field Marshal.”
“One step higher, Sir.”
“His Imperial Majesty!” cries the man in consternation, letting his pipe fall and break into fragments.
“Exactly,” answers Alexander with a smile.
“Pardon me, Sire,” exclaims the officer falling on his knees.
“Why should I pardon you?” replied the Emperor, “I merely asked you the way and you have told me. Thanks.”
With these words the Emperor salutes the unfortunate Commander of a battalion and takes the road to the right, where he is soon overtaken by his carriage.
On another occasion when visiting the Northern provinces, the Emperor while crossing a lake situated near Archangel, was assailed by a violent tempest. “My friend,” said the Emperor to the pilot, “nearly eighteen hundred years ago, under very similar circumstances, a great Roman general said to his pilot, ‘Fear nothing, for Caesar and his fortunes are in your hands.’ I am less confident than Caesar and I say to you simply, ‘My friend, forget that I am the Emperor, regard me as a man like yourself, and try to save both our lives.’ “The pilot who was on the point of losing his head with the weight of the responsibility, which was overwhelming him, immediately plucked up his courage, and the vessel, directed by a firm hand, reached the shore unharmed.
Alexander was not always so lucky, and trifling accidents were sometimes followed by serious results. During his last expedition through the Provinces of the Don, he was upset violently from his drosky and injured in the leg. A slave to the routine which he prescribed for himself, he was anxious to continue his journey, that he might reach home at the pre-arranged date; but over exertion and neglect caused the sore to fester. Since that time erysipelas has on several occasions appeared in the leg, compelling the Emperor to keep his bed for weeks and to walk lame for months. With these attacks his melancholy is accentuated; for then he is constantly in the presence of the Empress and in her pale sad face, on which a smile never makes its appearance, he sees a living reproach, for he is the cause of the pale sad face.
The last outbreak of this disease, which occurred during the winter of 1824, at the time of the marriage of the Grand Duke Michael and just when the information received from Constantine of the existence of that everlasting but invisible plot, which could be felt but not seen, had filled him with vivid apprehensions. It happened at Tsarskoe-Selo, the Prince’s favourite residence, which was becoming more and more dear to him, the deeper he plunged into his hopeless melancholy. After going for a walk in solitude, as was his invariable custom, he returned to the Castle, perishing with cold, and had dinner served in his room. The same evening erysipelas of a most violent character set in, accompanied by a high temperature, delirium and brain fever; that very night the Emperor was conveyed in a closed sleigh to St. Petersburg, where the principal medical men in consultation decided that the leg must be amputated; Dr. Wyllie, the Emperor’s private surgeon alone opposed the idea, staking his life on the recovery of the august patient. Thanks to his assiduity the Emperor recovered his health. But his melancholy made rapid strides during this illness, and as I have said, threw gloom over the latter part of the carnival.
While still convalescent he returned to his beloved Tsarskoe-Selo and there resumed his usual habits of life; he spent the spring alone, without any court, without even a Grand Marshal and only received his ministers on certain days of the week; his existence there resembled rather that of an anchorite lamenting his sins, than of a great Emperor entertaining his subjects.
At six o’clock in winter or at five in summer, Alexander rose, performed his toilet, retired to his study, where everything was in the most perfect order, the preparations including invariably a cambric handkerchief folded on his desk and a bundle of ten freshly cut pens. The Emperor settled down to his work, never employing a pen which had done duty on the previous day, even if he had used it only to write his name; when his despatches were finished and all had been signed he would descend to the park, where, in spite of the rumours of conspiracy, which had been floating about for the last two years, he would go for a walk absolutely alone and without any protection beyond the sentinels of the Alexander Palace. About five o’clock he would return, dine alone, and go to bed to the accompaniment of a tattoo played by the Guards’ band under his windows. He always selected the most depressing pieces, and would fall asleep in the same frame of mind as that in which he had spent the day.
The Empress Elizabeth likewise lived a life of profound solitude, watching over the Emperor like an invisible angel; time had not extinguished within her the deeply rooted love inspired by her first glimpse of the Czarevitch, which remained pure and constant in spite of the numerous infidelities of her husband. When I saw her she was a woman of about forty-five, with a slight and well set up figure, and on her face could be traced the evidences of great beauty, which was beginning to fade away after thirty years’ contest with grief. To sum up, she was as pure as a Saint, never could the most biting and calumnious tongues find anything to seize upon. In fact, in her presence, every one paid respect to her supreme goodness rather than to her great power and regarded her as an angel exiled from heaven rather than a queen reigning upon earth.
When summer came, the doctors decided unanimously that a change was necessary to set up the Emperor in health and settled on the Crimea, since its climate would exactly suit his stage of convalescence. Alexander, contrary to his custom had not arranged any journeys for this year, and received the doctors’ orders with absolute indifference. Moreover the Empress, as soon as the resolution to depart had been taken, begged and obtained permission to accompany her husband. Their departure meant a great increase of work for the Emperor, because in anticipation of the journey, everyone was anxious to settle his business with him, as if he would never see him again; for a whole fortnight he was obliged to get up very early and go to bed late. Meanwhile his health had not suffered visibly, when, in the course of the month of June, after a special service to ask a blessing on the journey, in which the whole Imperial family took part, he left St. Petersburg, accompanied by the Empress, driven by Ivan, his trustworthy coachman, and escorted by several orderlies under the command of General Diebitch.
CHAPTER XIV
THE Emperor reached Taganrog about the end of August, 1825, after passing through Warsaw, where he halted a few days to celebrate the birthday of the grand Duke Constantine; this was the second visit the Emperor had paid to the town, whose position pleased him and he often said he should like to retire there to spend the remainder of his days. The excursion had been of great benefit to him as well as the Empress, and augured well for their sojourn under the beautiful climate in which they hoped to recover their healths. The Emperor’s fondness for Taganrog could only be justified by the improvements which he hoped to carry out, for this little town, situated on the shore of the sea of Azov, consisted of barely a thousand ramshackle houses, of which a sixth part at the most were built of brick or stone, all the others being nothing but wooden huts covered with mud. As for the streets, which are wide, it is true, but unpaved, the soil is so friable that after a shower you sink to the knees in mud. Moreover, when sun and wind have dried the damp loam, the horses and cattle bringing in the produce of the country stir up clouds of dust with their feet, which the wind whirls about in masses so thick that it is not possible to distinguish between a man and a horse at a few paces distance in broad daylight. This dust gets in everywhere, enters the houses, finds its way through closed blinds or shutters, penetrates clothes, however thick they may be, and charges the water with a kind of sediment which can only be deposited by boiling tartaric acid in it.
The Emperor put up at the Governor’s house, situated in front of the fortress of Azov, but he was very seldom inside it, for he went out every morning and did not return till dinner time at two o’clock. He spent the rest of his time in tramping through the mud or dust, neglecting all the precautions which the inhabitants of the country take to ward off the autumnal fevers, which by the way had been more numerous and malignant this year than usual. His chief occupation was the laying out and planting of a great public garden, designed by an Englishman, who had been brought from St. Petersburg for the purpose; at night he slept on a camp bed, resting his head upon a leather pillow.
It was said by many that this occupation was a mere cloak, to conceal a hidden plan, and that in reality the Emperor had retired to this out of the way corner of his empire to come to some great determination. They were in constant expectation of seeing emerge from this little town of the Palus Maeotis the outline of a constitution for the whole of Russia. If they are to be believed, this was the real reason of this journey in search of health; the Emperor was desirous of coming to a decision unfettered by the influence of the old nobility, which is to this very day quite as much the slave of its prejudices as in the time of Peter the Great.
Meanwhile Taganrog was only Alexander’s headquarters; Elizabeth adopted it permanently, for she could not endure the excursions undertaken by the Emperor in the Province of the Don, now to Tcherkask, now to Donetz.
Having returned from one or these expeditions, he was on the point of setting out for Astrakan, when the unexpected arrival of the Count of Voronsov, who had lived in France down to 1818, and was now Governor of Odessa, brought news to the Emperor that an insurrection was on the point of declaring itself in the Crimea, and that his presence alone could prevent an outbreak.
It would be necessary to travel three hundred leagues, but what are three hundred leagues in Russia, where rough-maned horses carry you across the steppes and forests with the rapidity of a dream. Alexander promised the Empress that he would be back in three weeks’ time, and gave orders that he would leave immediately after the return of a courier whom he had despatched to Alupka.
The courier came back bringing fresh news of the conspiracy. It had been discovered that it aimed not only at the government, but even at the Emperor’s life. On hearing this, Alexander let his head fall upon his hands and uttering a deep groan, cried: “My father I my father!”
This occurred in the middle of the night. General Diebitch, who lived in a house near, was awakened by the Emperor’s orders. Meanwhile Alexander seemed to be very uneasy and kept striding up and down his room, throwing himself at intervals on his bed and then springing up again in his agitation. The general arrived, two hours were spent in writing and discussions; then two couriers departed bearing despatches, one going to the Viceroy of Poland and the other to the Grand Duke Nicholas.
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