THE EMPEROR'S BEAR-HUNT.
The present emperor, Alexander III., is more distinguished for his
liberal views respecting the rights of his subjects than for his
military proclivities. In private life he is much beloved, and is said
to be a man of very genial social qualities. His predominating passion
in this relation is a love of hunting. I have been told that he is
especially great on bears. With all your experience of this manly
pastime in America, I doubt if you can form any conception of the
bear-hunts in which the Autocrat of all the Russias has distinguished
himself. Any body with nerve enough can kill a grizzly, but it
requires both nerve and money to kill bears of any kind in the genuine
autocratic style. By an imperial ukase it has been ordered that when
any of the peasants or serfs discover a bear within twenty versts of
the Moscow and St. Petersburg Railway, they must make known the fact
to the proprietor of the estate, whose duty it is to communicate
official information of the discovery to the corresponding secretary
of the Czar. With becoming humility the secretary announces the
tidings to his royal master, who directs him to advise the distant
party that his majesty is much pleased, and will avail himself of his
earliest leisure to proceed to the scene of action. In the mean time
the entire available force of the estate is set to work to watch the
bear, and from three to five hundred men, armed with cudgels, tin
pans, old kettles, drums, etc., are stationed in a circle around him.
Dogs also are employed upon this important service. The advance
trains, under the direction of the master hunter, having deposited
their stores of wines, cordials, and provisions, and telegraphic
communications being transmitted to head-quarters from time to time,
it is at length privately announced that his imperial majesty has
condescended to honor the place with his presence, and, should the
saints not prove averse, will be there with his royal party at the
hour and on the day specified in the imperial dispatch. The grand
convoy is then put upon the track; dispatches are transmitted to all
the stations; officers, soldiers, and guards are required to be in
attendance to do honor to their sovereign master--privately, of
course, as this is simply an unofficial affair which nobody is
supposed to know any thing about. The emperor, having selected his
chosen few--that is to say, half a dozen princes, a dozen dukes, a
score or two of counts and barons--all fine fellows and genuine
bloods--proceeds unostentatiously to the depot in his hunting-carriage
(a simple little affair, manufactured at a cost of only forty thousand
rubles or so), where he is astonished to see a large concourse of
admiring subjects, gayly interspersed with soldiers, all accidentally
gathered there to see him off. Now hats are removed, bows are made,
suppressed murmurs of delight run through the crowd; the locomotive
whizzes and fizzes with impatience; bells are rung, arms are grounded;
the princes, dukes, and barons--jolly fellows as they are--laugh and
joke just like common people; bells ring again and whistles blow; a
signal is made, and the Autocrat of all the Russias is off on his
bear-hunt!
In an hour, or two or three hours, as the case may be, the royal
hunters arrive at the destined station. Should the public business be
pressing, it is not improbable the emperor, availing himself of the
conveniences provided for him by Winans and Co., in whose magnificent
present of a railway carriage he travels, has in the mean time
dispatched a fleet of vessels to Finland, ten or a dozen extra
regiments of Cossacks to Warsaw, closed upon terms for a loan of fifty
millions, banished various objectionable parties to the deserts of
Siberia, and partaken of a game or two of whist with his camarilla.
But now the important affair of the day is at hand--the bear--the
terrible black bear, which every body is fully armed and equipped to
kill, but which every body knows by instinct is going to be killed by
the emperor, because of his majesty's superior skill and courage on
trying occasions of this sort. What a blessing it is to possess such
steadiness of nerve! I would not hesitate one moment to attack the
most ferocious grizzly in existence if I felt half as much confidence
in my ability to kill it. But the carriages are waiting; the horses
are prancing; the hunters are blowing their bugles; the royal party
are mounting on horseback or in their carriages, as best may suit
their taste, and the signal is given! A salute is fired by the Guard,
huzzas ring through the air, and the Czar of all the Russias is fairly
off on his hunt. Trees fly by; desert patches of ground whirl from
under; versts are as nothing to these spirited steeds and their
spirited masters, and in an hour or so the grand scene of action is
reached. Here couriers stand ready to conduct the imperial hunters
into the very jaws of death. The noble proprietor himself, bareheaded,
greets the royal pageant; the serfs bow down in Oriental fashion; the
dashing young Czar touches his hunting-cap in military style and waves
his hand gallantly to the ladies of the household, who are peeping at
him from their carriages in the distance. Once more the bugle is
sounded, and away they dash--knights, nobles, and all--the handsome
and gallant Czar leading the way by several lengths. Soon the terrific
cry is heard--"Halt! the bear! the bear! Halt!" Shut your eyes,
reader, for you never can stand such a sight as that--a full-grown
black bear, not two hundred yards off, in the middle of an open space,
surrounded by five hundred men hidden behind trees and driving him
back from every point where he attempts to escape. You don't see the
men, but you hear them shouting and banging upon their pots, pans, and
kettles. Now just open one eye and see the emperor dismount from his
famous charger, and deliver the rein to a dozen domestics,
deliberately cock his rifle, and fearlessly get behind the nearest
tree within the range of the bear. By this time you perceive that
Bruin is dancing a _pas seul_ on his hind legs, utterly confounded
with the noises around him. Shut your eyes again, for the emperor is
taking his royal aim, and will presently crack away with his royal
rifle. Hist! triggers are clicking around you in every direction, but
you needn't be the least afraid, for, although the bear is covered by
a reserve of forty rifles, not one of the hunters has nerve enough to
shoot unless officially authorized or personally desirous of visiting
the silver-mines of Siberia. Crack! thug! The smoke clears away. By
Jove! his imperial majesty has done it cleverly; hit the brute plumb
on the os frontis, or through the heart, it makes no difference which.
Down drops Bruin, kicking and tearing up the earth at a dreadful rate;
cheers rend the welkin; pots, pans, and kettles are banged. High above
all rises the stern voice of the autocrat, calling for another rifle,
which is immediately handed to him. Humanity requires that he should
at once put an end to the poor animal's sufferings, and he does it
with his accustomed skill.
Now the bear having kicked his last, an intrepid hunter charges up to
the spot on horseback, whirls around it two or three times, carefully
examines the body with an opera-glass, returns, and, approaching the
royal presence with uncovered head, delivers himself according to this
formula: "May it please your most gallant and imperial majesty, THE
BEAR IS DEAD!" The emperor sometimes responds, "Is he?" but usually
contents himself by waving his hand in an indifferent manner, puffing
his cigar, and calling for his horse. Sixteen grooms immediately rush
forward with his majesty's horse; and, being still young and vigorous,
he mounts without difficulty, unaided except by Master of Stirrups.
Next he draws an ivory-handled revolver--a present from Colt, of New
York--and, dashing fearlessly upon the bear, fires six shots into the
dead body; upon which he coolly dismounts, and pulling forth from the
breast of his hunting-coat an Arkansas bowie-knife--a present from the
poet Albert Pike, of Little Rock--plunges that dangerous weapon into
the bowels of the dead bear; then rising to his full height, with a
dark and stern countenance, he holds the blood-dripping blade high in
the air, so that all may see it, and utters one wild stentorian and
terrific shout, "Harasho! harasho!" signifying in English, "Good! very
well!" The cry is caught up by the princes and nobles, who, with
uncovered heads, now crowd around their gallant emperor, and waving
their hats, likewise shout "Harasho! harasho!"--"Good! very well!"
Then the five hundred peasants rush in with their tin pans, kettles,
and drums, and amid the most amazing din catch up the inspiring
strain, and deafen every ear with their wild shouts of "Harasho!
harasho!"--"Good! very well!" Upon which the emperor, rapidly
mounting, places a finger in each ear, and, still puffing his cigar,
rides triumphantly away.
The bear is hastily gutted and dressed with flowers. When all is ready
the royal party return to the railroad depot in a long procession,
headed by his majesty, and brought up in the rear by the dead body of
Bruin borne on poles by six-and-twenty powerful serfs. Refreshments in
the mean time have been administered to every body of high and low
degree, and by the time they reach the depot there are but two sober
individuals in the entire procession--his royal majesty and the bear.
Farther refreshments are administered all round during the journey
back to St. Petersburg, and, notwithstanding he is rigidly prohibited
by his physician from the use of stimulating beverages, it is supposed
that a reaction has now taken place, which renders necessary a
modification of the medical ukase. At all events, I am told the bear
is sometimes the only really steady member of the party by the time
the imperial pageant reaches the palace. When the usual ceremonies of
congratulation are over, a merry dance winds up the evening. After
this the company disperses to prayer and slumber, and thus ends the
great bear-hunt of his majesty the Autocrat of all the Russias.