For many a year after the tragic death of his father the new manor-lord,
little Sasha Maximof, would not be induced to live at the estate. He
was afraid of the woods, wherein for ever lurked, according to his
morbid fancy, hoardes of ravening wolves intent upon his destruction;
he was afraid of his serfs, a feeling originated and fostered by his
mother, who was herself afraid of them, well knowing the hatred they
had borne towards her husband and fearing lest their malice should be
extended towards his child. She desired no more than Sasha to live in
the country. The property was placed in the hands of a steward--somewhat
more merciful than deposed Kakin--who contrived to extract a fat living
for the widow and her son by exploiting their unfortunate serfs to the
utmost limit permitted by the law. The Countess lived with Sasha in St.
Petersburg where he saw little or nothing of his "betrothed" for two or
three years, after which little Vera Demidof was sent to Paris to be
educated in a French school. Vera's aunt, Demidof's sister, had been
married to the French Minister at the Court of the Emperor Paul, after
whose tragic end he had left the country and returned to Paris, taking
with him his Russian wife. Demidof was proud of his French relations and
was glad enough to allow his child to receive her education under such
promising auspices.
At the age of sixteen Vera returned to St. Petersburg quite prepared to
find her countrymen and women little better than barbarians as she had
been taught by the elegant Parisian folk to believe them.
"Bears, _chérie_, you will find them, every one," her French relations
assured her; "they have no manners and no education, how should they?
and your fiancé, he will be a bear like the rest, you will run from him,
run back to France; we shall find you a fiancé who is not a bear!"
"Bear or no bear, we are pledged to one another and there will be
no running away from him!" said Vera. Whereat her French relatives
shrugged their shoulders and said, "This betrothal of babes, what does
it signify? It was a very pretty game for children, but a thing to be
forgotten when the doll is put away and the skirts are lengthened."
"In Russia they think differently," Vera replied. "My mother looks upon
the betrothal as binding, I know. The law and the Church both would have
something to say before the contract could be broken."
"Well, let us see first what he is like; if he should be an impossible,
without doubt both the Church and the law will listen to reason. What,
are two people to be bound to one another for life if they desire it
not? God forbid!"
"Maybe we shall both desire it when we meet, who knows?" Vera laughed.
"We are talking in the dark, since Sasha and I have not met for many
years. But if each is repulsive to the other the contract may perhaps be
set aside, by mutual agreement."
"That is sensible," said Vera's aunt; "the danger is lest he shall be
attracted by you, while you feel no counter-attraction for him, or _vice
versâ_."
"I will keep a guard upon my heart, aunt," laughed Vera.
The first meeting, after many years, between the young people took place
soon after this conversation at the annual reception of the corps
of cadets in St. Petersburg. This corps consisted of members of the
_petite noblesse_--the boyarin families of Russia, destined for military
service in the more aristocratic regiments. The Emperor Paul, shocked
by the methods of his mother, Catherine the Great, in the matter of
distribution of commissions to the sons of her boyars, had instituted
this corps of cadets as a much-needed measure of reform, and indeed the
step was taken not a moment too soon for the good of the country.
As the great Catherine's system of distributing commissions to the
members of that class of her subjects which seems to have been her
_enfant gâté_, the _petite noblesse_, is somewhat unique, I will ask
permission to digress for a moment in order to give the reader some idea
of her method and of the abuses to which it gradually led.
The thing developed gradually and attained the height of absurdity only
when the Empress was an old woman.
Commissions in the Guards were at this time regarded as gifts from
the sovereign to her faithful boyars and claimable by every boyar, if
he so desired, for the benefit of his children. They were issued on
demand, and were not, at first, applied for until the youth destined
to enjoy the privilege had reached a time of life when a commission
in the army might fairly be given to him; but since the officers of
the Guards received liberal pay and were treated with marked kindness
and indulgence by the sovereign, it occurred to certain boyars that it
would be a pity to waste several years of the best part of the lives of
their sons, years which might be spent so profitably in drawing pay and
accumulating seniority in the Guards. Therefore certain aspiring parents
applied for commissions for their sons at the age of fifteen; and--no
objection being made--it soon became the custom to issue commissions to
lads of this age.
Gradually the limit of age decreased. First commissions were demanded
for boys of twelve, and obtained; then the age dropped to ten, then to
eight, to six, to three. No duties were required of all these young
officers, who were not even obliged to draw their own pay; their fathers
were permitted to do this for them. But promotion proceeded in each case
with regularity, and soon it was a common thing to see a promising young
officer of seven years toddling at his mothers side in the epaulettes
of a captain of the Guards.
But the matter did not end here. It now became the fashion to apply
for commissions for male children as soon as born. Lieutenants were
to be seen carried about in their nurses' arms and captains rode in
perambulators, while majors and colonels of ten and twelve strutted
about the streets, to the pride and no small profit of their happy
parents. One would suppose that the comedy had at this point reached the
very limit of absurdity; but this was not so.
It occurred to some ingenious boyar about to enter into the delights and
responsibilities of wedlock to apply for commissions for a son or two
in advance. If his marriage should be blessed with offspring--well; if
not, well also; for no one would be likely to inquire into the matter as
long as the old Empress lived, and the pay of two or three officers of
the Guards--non-existent, certainly, but steadily rising in rank for all
that--would be a comfortable addition to the income of his parents that
might have been.
This was the millennium of Catherine's _enfants gâtés_, the boyars, and
it came to an end with her death and the accession of Paul, who had long
watched the scandal from his retreat at Gatchina and watched it with
helpless displeasure and anger. Paul was a strict disciplinarian and the
sight of the degradation of the Guards maddened him. One of his first
acts after his accession was to hold a review of the corps, a review
at which every officer was compelled to be present or to hand in his
resignation.
That must indeed have been the weirdest parade upon record. Officers in
arms, officers in perambulators, officers clinging to their mothers'
skirts; shy and self-conscious majors of ten wandering helplessly about
the Champs de Mars, colonels of twelve and fourteen asking one another
to which regiment they belonged, and the stern, angry Emperor surveying
the motley scene as the executioner eyes his victim before dealing the
fatal stroke which is to end him once and for all.
In spite of his anger, the Tsar Paul displayed some humour upon this
occasion, perhaps with the intention of impressing upon all witnesses
the absurdity of the prevailing state of affairs. Every officer was
called upon to take his proper place with his own battalion, and to obey
the words of command presently issued by the few remaining veterans of
the various regiments.
Naturally the parade began and ended in confusion; a wild medley of
nursemaids and perambulators, of crying children and bewildered boys;
all officers who were unable to perform the duties expected of them were
called upon to resign their commissions, and with this historic review
the millennium of Catherine's baby-guards came to a timely end.
Young Sasha Maximof, Vera's betrothed, had been duly enrolled, like
most of his fellows of boyar rank, among Catherine's officers of the
sinecure regiments, but his mother, unlike many of the parents of those
young warriors, had taken neither fright nor offence at the action
of the Emperor Paul, but like a sensible woman had entered her son's
name as a cadet in the newly organised institution for the education
of youths desirous of entering the army as _bona-fide_ officers. Sasha
had been but six years old at the time of the catastrophe, and had then
enjoyed the rank and pay of a captain. He had, of course, resigned his
commission, but had rejoined as a cadet of the Imperial Corps upon
reaching the age of fourteen. He was now nineteen and one of the seniors
of the establishment--a nice-looking youth of medium height and good
appearance. If one may use a modern expression to describe Sasha's
attitude towards life at this time, he may be said to have "fancied
himself" to a very considerable extent; he was, indeed, a fair example
of the Russian youth of his day, when over the uncouth and bearlike
manners of the old Muscovite type was gradually stealing the veneer of
Western civilisation.
Sasha Maximof was a lady's man; he was generally liked and admired by
the women, and knew it. He had already been through several _affaires du
coeur_, and if he ever recollected the fact that he was a betrothed
man, it is probable that he thought lightly of the matter, regarding
the whole question as one of expediency. The dower to be had with his
fiancée was a handsome one, he knew; but there were plenty of good
dowers available for a man like himself; he might eventually decide to
regard his engagement as binding--it depended upon the girl; mediocrity
would not suit him.
"It will be a wonder, or rather _she_ will have to be one," he remarked
one day when his mother, observing his attitude towards some damsel
whom he was accustomed to meet in society, casually reminded him of the
existing contract to which he was a party. "She will have to be a wonder
if that silly betrothal is to come to anything!"