On the banks of the Neva, near the great city of Saint Petersburg,
stands a splendid palace, known as the Palace Grodonoff. It is the
property of a Russian nobleman of that name, as it is also his place of
residence. Were you to drive up to the front gate of this grand palace,
you would see a coat-of-arms sculptured in granite over the entrance.
In this piece of sculpture, the principal and most striking figure is a
bear, with the blade of a knife buried in his breast, the haft being
clutched by a human hand! Open the gate, and enter the spacious
courtyard. Inside, on the right and left, you will observe two live
bears--both of chestnut-brown colour, and each of them as big as a
buffalo. You cannot fail to notice them, for, ten chances to one, they
will rush towards you with fierce growls; and were it not that a strong
chain hinders them from reaching you, you might have reason to repent
having entered the courtyard of the palace Grodonoff. Look around you
in the courtyard and over the different doors that open upon it; you
will again see the crest of the bear, sculptured in stone; you will see
it over the stables, the coach-house, the granary, the kitchens,--
everywhere. You may know by all this, that it is the coat-of-arms of
the Baron Grodonoff, whose crest is a bear with a blade buried in its
breast, and a human band clutching the haft.
You will naturally conclude that there is some history connected with
this singular tableau--that it is the commemoration of some deed done by
a Grodonoff, entitling him to use the bear as his heraldic device. This
is quite true; and if you enter the picture-gallery of the palace, you
will there behold the deed more explicitly represented, in a large
oil-painting hung conspicuously in the centre of the wall. The scene of
this painting is a forest of old trees, whose grey, gnarled trunks stand
thickly over the ground. There is only a little open space or glade in
the middle; and this is occupied by three figures, two men and a bear.
The bear is between the two men; or, rather, one of the men is prostrate
upon the ground--where he has been struck down by a blow from Bruin's
paw--while the huge animal stands over him reared up on his hind
quarters. The other man is upon his feet, apparently engaged in a
desperate wrestle with the fierce brute, and likely to prove the
conqueror--as he has already buried the blade of a large hunting-knife
in the animal's breast, and directly over the region of its heart.
Indeed, the shaggy monster already shows signs of succumbing. His paw
has dropped from the shoulder of his antagonist, his long tongue lolls
out, the blood rushes from his mouth and nostrils, and it is evident
that his strength is fast forsaking him, and that he will soon sink
lifeless upon the earth. You will notice that the two men who figure in
the painting are very dissimilar in appearance. Both are young men, and
both are in hunting costume; but so unlike in their dress, that you
could not fancy they followed the same occupation. He upon the ground
is richly attired. He wears a tunic of finest green cloth slashed with
sable fur on the skirt, collar, and sleeves; his limbs are encased in
breeches of white doeskin; and his boots, reaching nearly to his thighs,
are of soft russet leather, ample at the tops. A belt around his waist
is richly embroidered; and the hilt of a short hunting-sword, protruding
from the sheath, appears chased and studded with jewels. A light plumed
hat lies upon the ground near his head--evidently tossed off in the
struggle--and beside it is a boar-spear that has been jerked out of his
fingers as he fell. The whole costume is similar to that used upon the
stage--when some young German or Sclavonian prince is represented as
hunting the wild boar in the forests of Lithuania.
In reality it is a prince who is depicted in the group of the gallery
Grodonoff--but not a German prince. He is a Russian, and the bear is
the Russian bear.
The other hunter--he who had given its death-blow to the fierce
quadruped--is dressed in a style entirely different. It is the costume
of a fur-hunter--a trapper of sables--and consists of skin coat and cap,
with a strong leathern belt round his waist, and rough boots of untanned
hide upon his legs and feet. The costume is rude, and bespeaks him a
peasant; but his face, as the painter has represented it, is neither
common nor ill-looking. It is not so handsome as that of the prince:
for he would be an unskilful artist--one utterly reckless of his own
fortune--who should paint the features of a peasant as handsome as those
of a prince. In Russia, as elsewhere, such an imprudent painter would
be a _rara avis_ indeed.
The picture of which we are speaking is the _piece de resistance_ of the
Grodonoff gallery. Its size and conspicuous position declare the fact;
and the story attached to it will show that it merits the distinction.
But for that picture, or rather the scene which it represents, there
would be no Grodonoff gallery--no palace--no baron of the name.
Paintings, palace, title, all have their origin in the incident there
represented--the battle with the bear.
The story is simple and may be briefly told. As, already stated, he
upon his back, hat off, and spear detached from his grasp, is a Russian
prince--or rather was one, for at the time when our history commences he
is an emperor. He had been hunting the wild boar; and, as often happens
to sporting princes, had become separated from his courtier attendants.
The enthusiasm of the chase had led him on, into the fastnesses of the
forest, where he came suddenly face to face with a bear. Princes have
their hunter ambition as well as other men; and, in hopes of tailing a
trophy, this one attacked the bear with his boar-spear. But the thrust
that might have penetrated the flesh of a wild boar, had no effect upon
the tough thick hide of Bruin. It only irritated him; and as the brown
bear will often do, he sprang savagely upon his assailant, and with his
huge paw gave the prince such a "pat" upon the shoulder, as not only
sent the spear shivering from his grasp, but stretched his royal
highness at full length upon the grass.
Following up his advantage, the bear had bounded forward upon the
prostrate body; and, no doubt, in the twinkling of a bedpost would have
made a corpse of it--either squeezing the breath out of it by one of his
formidable "hugs," or tearing it to pieces with his trenchant teeth. In
another moment the hope of Russia would have been extinguished; but,
just at this crisis, a third figure appeared upon the scene--in the
person of a young hunter--a _real_ one--who had already been in pursuit
of the bear, and had tracked him up to the spot.
On coming upon the ground, the hunter fired his gun; but, seeing that
the shot was insufficient, he drew his knife and rushed upon the bear.
A desperate struggle ensued, in which, as may be already anticipated,
the young hunter proved victorious--having succeeded in sheathing his
blade in the heart of the bear, and causing the savage quadruped to
"bite the dust."
Neither the prince nor the peasant came scathless out of the encounter.
Both were well scratched; but neither had received any wound of a
serious nature; and the amateur hunter rose once more to his feet,
conscious of having made a very narrow escape.
I need not add that the prince was profuse in his expressions of
gratitude to him who had saved his life. The young hunter was not one
of his own party, but a stranger to him, whose home was in the forest
where the incident occurred. But their acquaintance did not end with
the adventure. The prince became an emperor--the peasant hunter a
lieutenant in the Imperial Guard, afterwards a captain, a colonel, a
general, and finally a baron of the empire!
His name?
Grodonoff,--he in whose palace hangs the picture we have described.