CHAPTER XIII.BORIS GOES ON THE WAR-PATH.
One day the Tsar asked Boris whether he would like to be one of theelectors of the College of Bacchus, and take part in the election of anew president.
The College of Bacchus was one of the products of those all toofrequent uproarious moods of the Tsar, when he and his friends wouldmeet to drink and make a noise, to gamble, wrestle, play with the_kegels_, or skittles, and, in short, pass a day or a night in thosefestivities which Peter found necessary in order to work off some ofthe superabundant energy with which nature had dowered him. The collegewas, as its name implies, a mere drinking institution, wherein thehardest drinker was king, or pope, or president; and the last presidentof this society having lately died, it became necessary to elect asuccessor.
When the Tsar proposed to Boris, however, that the latter should formone of the electors, he doubtless offered the suggestion more by wayof banter than in sober seriousness; for none knew better than Peterthat such a thing as an election at the College of Bacchus was not atall in Boris's line. It is distinctly to the credit of the many-sidedTsar that he thought none the worse of his faithful hunter becausethe latter had not proved so good a boon companion as others of hisfavourites of the day. He was fully conscious of Boris's many excellentqualities, and easily forgave him his shortcomings as a reveller inconsideration of his humble birth and upbringing, as well as of hispre-eminence in other directions. Hence when Peter made the suggestion,he was not offended, but only amused, when Boris said, with a grimace,that he thought his Majesty must probably possess many subjects betterqualified than a poor bear-hunter for so exalted an office. Peter, witha laugh, agreed that this might be so; but added that he was not socertain that he could find any one better qualified than Boris to actas judge or referee at the election, since it would be the duty of thatfunctionary to keep the peace and to restrain the ardour, if necessary,of the electors, who would be likely to prove an awkward body tomanage, and would require both a strong hand and a cool head to keep inorder during the excitement of the election.
Since Peter appeared anxious that Boris should act in the capacitylast suggested--that of referee--the hunter did not refuse to complywith his request. The experience was of service to him because it gavehim once for all so great a horror of the vice of drinking that henever afterwards, to his dying day, took spirits of any kind exceptingon special occasions when he considered the stuff to be requiredmedicinally, and then in small quantities.
It was no wonder that a sober-minded man like Boris should have refusedto act as one of the electors, as my readers will agree when I explainthe function in use at the elections of the College of Bacchus. Thebody of twelve electors were locked up together in a room whichcontained a large table in the centre of which was a wine cask, uponwhich one of them sat astride, representing Bacchus. On either side ofthis emblematical figure were a stuffed bear and a live monkey.
The hour at which those chosen to elect the new president were lockedup was about seven in the evening, from which time until the followingmorning, when the door was thrown open once more, each elector wasobliged to swallow at regular intervals a large glassful of vodka, aspirit nearly, though not quite, so strong as whisky. He whose headproved best able to support this trying ordeal was the chosen presidentfor the following year, or series of years.
The function to which Boris had been called was to see that eachelector was supplied with his proper allowance of vodka at thestipulated times, and to prevent any quarrelling between them. Thehunter found that the office of judge and peacemaker was no sinecure,and a thousand times during the night did poor Boris bitterly repenthis compliance with the Tsar's wishes in this matter, and long forthe arrival of morning to put an end to the scene of which he was athoroughly disgusted and sickened spectator.
This was one of the peculiar ways in which the greatest and by farthe ablest and most enlightened monarch that Russia had ever seenamused himself, the sovereign but for whom Russia would have laggedhundreds of years behind in the race of civilization and progress,but for whose foresight and sagacity, too, Russia might never haveoccupied the position she now holds in the councils of Europe and ofthe world. This was Peter at his lowest and meanest; and if we shallsee him in these pages at his cruelest and most brutal, we shall alsohave the opportunity, I trust, of viewing this many-sided and trulyremarkable man at his highest and noblest--and none was ever nobler andmore self-sacrificing and devoted than he when occasion arose for thedisplay of his best qualities, for the truth of which statement let themanner of his death testify.[2]
It must not be supposed that the Tsar himself took part in thedegrading ceremony I have just described. Beyond locking and sealingthe door upon the electors, and again unlocking it at morning, Petertook no personal part in the proceedings, thus exercising a wisediscretion.
Boris came forth from that room feeling that he could never againattend the Tsar at one of his drinking bouts at Lefort's or atGordon's, or elsewhere; he had seen enough drinking and drunkennessto make him hate the very sight of a vodka bottle. When he told Peterof this, and of his intense desire to be exempted from the duty ofattending any further carousals, the Tsar slapped him on the back andlaughed in his loud way.
"I am glad, my Bear-eater," he said, "that I have at least one friendwho is not afraid of being great when I am little! There are plentyleft to drink with me. You shall be a total abstainer, and then I amsure of some one to steady me when I return at nights less master ofmyself than of Russia. I am glad of your decision, my good Boris; youshall be as sober as you please, so long as I need not follow yourexample." With that Peter laughed again, louder than ever, and gaveBoris a great push by the shoulders, which sent him flying backwardsagainst the wall, and proved conclusively that whatever the Tsar mightbe "when he returned late at night," he was master of himself, at allevents, at this particular moment.
Thus it came about that Boris gradually became practically ateetotaller--which is a _rara avis_ in Russia, and was still more soin those old days when drunkenness was thought little of, and was evenhabitually indulged in by the honoured head of the realm.
Boris had many friends now, chiefly among the officers of his regiment,with whom, in spite of his humble origin, he was extremely popular.By this time he excelled in all those arts which were the peculiarproperty of the military--in swordsmanship, in drill, and even ingunnery, upon the practice of which the Tsar laid great stress.Competitions were held among the officers; and here Boris soondisplayed a marked superiority over his fellows, his accurate eye andsteady hand enabling him to do far better work with the big clumsyordnance than his fellows, many of whom could rarely boast of a steadyhand at any time of day. It was a peculiarity of the Tsar himself,however, who indeed was an exception to all rules, that however deephis potations might have been, either on the previous evening or on thevery day of the competition, his hand was always steady and his eyetrue--in fact, he was at all times the chief rival of Boris for firstgunnery honours.
Such was the life in Moscow during the two or three years which ourfriend passed in the capital at this stage of his career--years whichwere of incalculable benefit to him as a period of education andexperience; years also which were passed very happily, and duringwhich the friendship between the young guardsman and Nancy Drury everripened and matured. From Nancy, Boris gradually picked up more thana smattering of the English language, and by the time he had knownher for two full years the pair were able to converse in English--acircumstance greatly applauded by Peter, who meditated a visit to ourcountry, and declared that the hunter should go with him and do thetalking for him.
But before the plans for a trip to England and the Continent hadtaken definite shape, events occurred to postpone the journey for awhile. The regiment of Guards to which Boris was attached was orderedto proceed to the south of Russia, where the Streltsi were alreadygathered before the walls of the city of Azof in preparation for asiege. Boris took an affectionate farewell of his beloved master, whobade him God-speed and
a quick return home. "Don't get into troublewith your old enemies of the Streltsi," were the Tsar's parting words."See if you can be the first man into Azof--I expect it of you--and behome as quickly as possible; for what am I to do without my faithfulold Sobersides Bear-eater to keep me in order and take care of me?"
Boris laughed at the allusion to his old acquaintances the Streltsi; hehad quite grown out of his dislike and horror for those poor misguidedmen, and was inclined to recall their treatment of him with indulgenceand pity rather than with indignation. "I am sure to be back soon,your Majesty," he said, "if the Tartars don't pick me off. We'll soonpepper them out of Azof. And, besides, I have attractions here besidesyour Majesty's person."
"Ah, the fair Nancy! I had forgotten," said Peter, laughing. "Well,well, my Bear-eater, happy is he who is beloved by a child; their loveis better than woman's love, and wears better, too. Now go and bidfarewell to your Nancy. Tell her Peter will look after her right wellin your absence!"
Boris went straight from the Tsar to the house of the Drurys, where hewas ever a welcome guest.
Poor Nancy was very miserable at the prospect of parting with herfriend, for she felt that there would be no more long sledge drivesfor her over the crisp snow roads, no more pleasant days in mid-forestwatching for bird and beast, nor jolly skating expeditions along thesmooth surface of the river when the wind or thaws had cleared it ofits deep snow-mantle, nor happy half-hours spent in laughing over thehunter's attempts to master the pronunciation of her own difficultlanguage. Life would be very dull and miserable for her now, and thecolonel informed Boris that Nancy had even spoken of persuading him,Boris, to take her with him to the south. "In fact, Boris Ivanitch,"added Drury, "my wife and I both complain that you have quite stolenthe child's heart from us; and, if we know anything of Nancy, we shallhave our hands full to manage her while you are away."
Nancy had disappeared out of the room, for her feelings had proved toomuch for her, and Boris regretfully felt obliged to depart at lengthwithout seeing the child again. But as he groped his way out of thedark, badly-lighted passage to the front door, he was surprised bya small, light figure bouncing suddenly into his arms, and a flaxenhead burying itself in his bosom, while hot tears were freely shedand hot kisses rained over his face and neck and wherever the twosoft lips could plant them. With difficulty Boris unclasped the fondarms, and detached the pretty head from his shoulder, and tenderlyplaced the little feet upon the ground. Then Nancy quickly ran away,and disappeared without a word, though Boris heard a great sob as thedainty figure passed out of sight in the dusky distance of the passage.When the young guardsman, mighty hunter and redoubtable soldier as hewas, left the house and strode down the familiar street for the lasttime, there was a tear in his eye that would not be denied, but rolleddeliberately down his cheek till it was dashed away.
On the following morning Boris marched out of Moscow with his regiment,bound for the seat of war, far away in the south, on the Sea of Azof.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Peter the Great contracted his last illness through a chill caughtwhile saving a boat's crew from drowning, which he did at the risk ofhis life and unaided, rescuing nearly thirty men one by one.