CHAPTER XX.BORIS IN DISGRACE.
The page of the history of Peter of Russia which I must now brieflyrefer to is stained and blurred with the records of ferocity andbrutality, and I am sure my readers will thank me if I give as cursoryan account of the Tsar's terrible mood of cruelty as is barelynecessary for the thread of my own tale. This is the blackest period ofPeter's life, if we except perhaps his persecution in later years ofthe unfortunate Grand-Duke Alexis, his utterly unworthy son; and forthose who are sincere admirers of the genius and self-denial of thegreat Tsar, and of his many remarkable and wonderful gifts and gracesof mind and disposition, the record of his treatment of the Streltsi atthis time affords extremely unpleasant reading.
Peter's first step was to form a court of inquiry, or inquisition, ona gigantic scale. For many weeks this court continued its labours ofinvestigation, examining the captured soldiers and officers at greatlength and with extreme persistency, in the hope of extracting fromthem minute details of the conspiracy which had culminated in therevolt and march upon Moscow. The object of the Tsar was to obtainthe names of all those connected with the plot who were outside theranks of the Streltsi, and more especially to discover proof of theparticipation of his sister Sophia, the late regent, in the affair.
To this end horrible tortures by scourge and fire were daily inflictedupon the unfortunate Streltsi, who very soon confessed all they knew,which was the very simple fact that the priests had persuaded themthat Peter was dead, and that they had therefore determined to cometo Moscow in order to request Sophia, the Grand-Duchess, to take inhand measures for the legal succession to the throne. Also, they wereanxious to see their wives and families, from whom they had been, asthey imagined, unfairly separated. Not a man among them, either bytorture or of free will, could be made to say that the Grand-Duchesshad stirred up or in any way encouraged the rising. They had, indeed,brought a letter for Sophia, begging her to act as regent andto reinstate themselves in Moscow, dismissing the foreigners anddisbanding the new regiments; but Sophia herself had known nothing ofthe letter or of their intentions.
The Grand-Duchess and those around her were exhaustively examined,though not by torture, as to the truth of these statements; and theinvestigators could find no reason to believe that it was otherwisethan as declared by the Streltsi.
Foiled in his attempt to dig down to the roots of this matter, butunconvinced that his sister and others were innocent, Peter thenproceeded to wreak his vengeance upon the Streltsi themselves. TheTsar was determined that this festering sore in the side of Russiashould be healed once for all. The Streltsi, if allowed to remain intheir old strength and numbers, and with their traditions of privilegeand license of interference undisturbed, must for ever be a fruitfulsource of disturbance, and an element of danger to the state. Theymust be exterminated, root and branch, as an institution. But firstthese ringleaders must be dealt with; and here Peter determined tomake a terrible example. Nearly two thousand of the unfortunateprisoners, together with a number of priests who were proved to havebeen implicated in the rising, were put to death in the streets of thecity. One man was left hanging close to the window of the Grand-DuchessSophia, holding in his dead hand the letter which the Streltsi hadintended to present to her, in order to show Peter's half-sister howlittle he believed in her protestations of innocence.
It is not my intention to enter into any details of the horrors of thistime, but one circumstance must be mentioned in connection with allthis brutality and bloodshed, because it bears upon the career of ourfriend Boris, who was at this time forced into taking a step which waspregnant with changes in his life and prospects.
The Tsar, lost in these dark days of vengeance and brutality toall sense of propriety and moderation, decreed that his noblesand favourites should all take a hand in the barbarities beingenacted--should, in a word, assist in the death of the mutineers.Some of Peter's intimates, either brutal enough to enjoy the work orelse anxious to please the Tsar, cheerfully consented to do as he hadrequested them. Others protested, and with tears besought his Majestyto exempt them from so unworthy a duty. But the maddened young autocratwas firm, and insisted upon the carrying out of his commands.
What misguided motive Peter can have had for this outrageous pieceof brutality it is impossible to determine; but since he never actedwithout motive of some kind, it is charitable to suppose that hebelieved he fulfilled some subtle purpose in commanding these men todo his savage will. Perhaps he desired to impress upon his favouritesthe awful consequences of treason to his person, by means of an objectlesson which would linger in their minds as long as they lived,and thus effectually deter them from ever entertaining the idea ofdisobedience. It was a terrible lesson, whether required or not, andwe may safely suppose that no man who was concerned in those scenes ofviolence and cruelty ever forgot the experience. The Streltsi behavedwith exemplary bravery, and laughed, and sang soldier-songs, and prayedaloud upon the scaffold, until death stilled their tongues.
But there was one man who neither at the request nor at the command ofthe Tsar would take a hand in the horrors of the day, and that man wasBoris. Among the captured and condemned Streltsi were several membersof the hunter's old regiment (which had revolted with the rest), oneor two of whom had in former days crossed swords with Boris on amemorable occasion; indeed, two of them were of the party who hadlurked in the dusk of the Moscow street-corner in order to assassinatehim.
One morning, when Boris paid his usual visit to the cabinet of the Tsarto hear his Majesty's commands for the day, he found the latter pacingrapidly up and down the apartment, black and gloomy, as he ever wasat this time. None had ever known the Tsar's savage mood to last forso long as it had continued on this occasion. Since the day when, inVienna, the letter of Gordon had been brought to him, the "black dog"had sat upon his Majesty's shoulder, and there had been no gleam ofeven transient sunshine to dispel the clouds that overcast his soul.Peter was not himself. He had been worked up by his passion into acondition of mind in which his own intimate friends failed to recognizetheir rough but ever kind and indulgent master.
At this present moment Boris could plainly see that rage had fullpossession of his Majesty's spirit. He took no notice of him beyondglaring fiercely at him as he entered, and said no word of greeting.Boris had been bitterly affected lately, not because of Peter's neglectof himself--for that, he knew, would mend with brighter days--butbecause the dreadful savagery which the Tsar had shown at this timerevealed his beloved master in a character which the hunter had notseen before; a revelation which filled him with a shocked sense of painand disappointment very hard to bear.
Peter continued to stride up and down the room, muttering to himself,and spoiling the rugged beauty of his features by twisting them intocontortions and grimaces as the passion worked within his soul. At lasthe stopped. Then he raised his eyes and saw the hunter, who lingerednear the door.
"Ah! it's you, is it?" he said. "It is as well you have come, for Ihave special work for you to-day. There are some old friends of yours,I find, among these accursed ones, the Streltsi prisoners."
The heart of Boris sank, for he guessed what was coming; many of theTsar's intimates having already been told off to do his savage will,and he knew that his turn was come.
"I have reflected that it would be only fair," continued the Tsar, "toallow you the privilege of paying off old scores. Since these men aresentenced to death, there is none who could so fitly carry out thesentence as yourself."
"Your Majesty must excuse me," said Boris, who was more of the athleteand soldier than the orator; "I am an officer, not an executioner."
The Tsar's face worked. He glared savagely at Boris for the space ofhalf a minute; then he laughed, but not in his old hearty way.
"You are a bold man, whatever else you may be," he said. "Now listen.It is my desire that you take this axe"--here his Majesty produceda workman's hatchet from a grim pile beside his table--"and with itproceed to that corner of the Uspensky where these men or others of
thesame regiment once attempted your life. There you will find a blockalready erected, and upon that block you shall execute these threemen--Michael Orlof, Vladimir Donskoi, Feodor Latinski." The Tsar readthese names from a slip of paper which he took from his table.
But Boris still preserved a bold front. He raised himself to his fullheight, looking very proud and very handsome, and almost as big as theTsar himself, who appeared somewhat bent and borne down by the evildays and more evil passions which had fallen upon him.
"I have told your Majesty I am no executioner," repeated the hunter,regardless of the passion of the Tsar. "Command me to fight thesemen, all three at once if you will, with the sword, and I will obeyyour bidding this very hour, and your Majesty knows enough of me toaccept my promise that not one of them shall remain alive; but as forbeheading them in cold blood with yonder axe, I cannot and I will notdo the deed."
Boris felt that in taking this bold course he was probably, in theTsar's present humour, signing his own death-warrant; yet he knew alsothat he would sooner die than do this detestable thing that Peter wouldhave of him.
The Tsar bit his lip till the blood showed red on the white. "BorisIvanitch, I entreat you," he muttered, "do not anger me more. By themercy of Heaven, I know not myself at this time. I repeat to you that Iam to be obeyed. Take this axe and do my bidding--go!"
But Boris stood straight and firm, and looked the Tsar boldly in theeyes. His blood was up and his stubborn spirit was in arms. He seizedthe axe which Peter held out to him and flung it crashing to thefarthest end of the room.
"No," he said, quietly but with firm lips and erect form, "I am not aslave. I love your Majesty, but your way this day is not God's way. Noteven the Tsar shall force me into doing this ungodly and detestabledeed!"
The Tsar recoiled, his face livid and bloodless, and his featuresconvulsed with the passion that beset him--drawing his sword as hestepped backwards.
Boris thought that his end was come; yet even at this supreme moment hefelt as cool as though he were going to step out of the chamber nextmoment and go about his usual business.
For a full minute the Tsar and Boris faced each other without a spokenword from either--Peter, with drawn sword half raised to strike, hisbreast heaving, his breath drawn in with hissings, his face workingwith evil passion, his eyes ablaze, and the infinite generosity andmanhood of his nature struggling beneath the passion that had so longsuffocated and cramped it; Boris, calm and cool, thinking, like a goodRussian, of his soul, but thinking also of Nancy, who was so soon to bedeprived of a friend as tender and true as the best.
At length the Tsar's arm fell to his side and he tossed his sword uponthe table.
"Be it so," he said; and then, "There is not another in all Russiafor whose sake that sword should have been held back. Boris Ivanitch,I remind myself of your good service--we have been friends andbrothers--you have even saved my life at the risk of your own. Forthese reasons I forbear to strike, as you deserve. But you havedisobeyed me--" here the Tsar's face worked once more, and he wassilent for a moment. Then he continued, "You have disobeyed me; youcan serve me no longer, you are no servant of mine from this hour.Thus I tear you from my heart for ever. Give me your sword." Petertore the epaulets from his shoulders, and took Boris's sword, layingit beside his own upon the table. "Now go from my sight; I will neversee you more. I can never forget your disobedience; it is for me theunpardonable thing. Away--out of my sight!"
Boris had been prepared for death, but he had not expectedthis--disgrace and banishment from the face of his beloved master; forat the Tsar's words Boris had felt all his old love come swelling intohis heart.
The poor hunter burst into tears and seized the Tsar's hand to kiss itere he left his presence for ever.
But the Tsar repelled him. "Go," he said sternly--"out of my sight;you sicken me with your woman's ways; I am not to be softened byhand-kissing and crying--go!"
Thus befell the first and only quarrel between the bear-hunter and hismuch-loved master, and the pair were destined, in consequence of it, tobe parted for many a long year.
Boris realized at once that he must leave Moscow. There was littleobject and much danger in remaining in the capital. Once in disgracewith the Tsar, there was no certainty but that the madness of Petermight cause him to treat Boris with scant ceremony should he meet thehunter in the streets or elsewhere. Whither, then, should he go?
Boris went to his apartment, and, with aching head and dazedintelligence, sat down to think out the problem. Why not return toDubinka? That was his first idea; but he put it from him at once.Dubinka was too far away from Moscow; for Boris could not allow himselfto banish entirely the hope that the Tsar might yet forgive him whenthese evil days had passed and all was forgotten. Besides, there wasNancy. He could never bear to live so far away from her home; howshould he ever do without her love, now that he had come to realizethat it was, if not all in all to him, at least a large proportion ofhis all?
Boris ended his cogitations, which resulted in nothing, by setting outto walk to the Drurys' house, to inform them of the melancholy turnwhich his affairs had taken, and to ask their advice. No one was athome excepting Nancy, and to her Boris then and there confided his tale.
Nancy's face flushed as her friend told of how he had refused to obeythe Tsar's bidding, of his disgrace, and of the loss of military rankand the Tsar's service. To the surprise of Boris the girl burst intotears and kissed the torn places upon his tunic where the Tsar hadviolently removed the epaulets. "I thank God you did what you did," shecried, "for, O Boris! I could never have loved you quite so well againif you had executed those poor men!"
Then Boris felt a great flood of comfort and encouragement come wellinginto his heart, and he went on to tell Nancy, with recovered spirits,of his determination to leave Moscow, and his reasons for taking thestep.
Nancy grew very pale as he spoke of this, and when he was silent she,too, said no word for some little space. Then she placed her littlehand in his big one and said,--
"If you leave Moscow, I shall go with you."
"Where to, Nancy? I am not going for one day," said obtuse Boris,playing with the little hand in his, and speaking sadly enough.
"Anywhere--I care not whither; but wherever you go, my Boris, I shallgo too." Nancy smiled through her tears. "Won't you take me--won't youhave me, Boris?" she said.
Then the hunter understood what the child wished to convey to his densemind, and all his soul came rushing to his lips as he gathered her tohis breast and said a thousand incoherent and tender and ridiculousthings. For it had not dawned upon Boris that she was no longer achild, but a very beautiful and tender maiden of seventeen; and that itwas now possible, if nothing untoward prevented it, to carry her awaywith him, even as she had, in her innocent candour, suggested, to behis lifelong companion and helpmate.
So Boris and Nancy passed a happy hour together, and all thingsmiserable and unfortunate were forgotten in the new light which wasthus shed upon the prospect. How different now seemed the idea ofleaving Moscow! How could Boris have been so blind? Fate could not havebeen kinder. The Tsar would have forgiven him long before he shouldgrow tired of indolent married life and wish to return to service andthe imperial favour.
When Colonel and Mrs. Drury returned home and heard the story of Boris,and Nancy's declaration that she would not suffer him to go aloneinto exile (which in no wise surprised them), they had a new plan topropose. They possessed a country house, set in its own corner of theforest, some twenty miles from Moscow. Why should not the whole partyretire to Karapselka for a while? The priest of the village couldperform the marriage ceremony as well as the high ecclesiastics ofMoscow; and probably Boris would prefer to have a quiet wedding, inorder to escape observation. After the ceremony Nancy and her husbandcould take up their abode permanently at Karapselka, and there awaitthe dawn of happier days, while the old people returned to Moscow,where they would at all times be within easy reach of their daughter.Boris would find plenty of congenial occup
ation among the bears andwolves in the forest.
This plan was hailed with joy by all concerned; and it need only beadded that Nancy and Boris were duly married, and took up their abodeat Karapselka, as the parents of the bride had suggested and as destinydecreed.