CHAPTER IV.
LETTERS FROM MR. TREMAINE AND DORRIS ROMILLY.
MY DEAR JUDITH,—I am rather hurried this morning, as I wish this letter to go by to-day's steamer. Mrs. Tremaine tells me that you are twenty years old. I think that you ought not to remain longer at school. I have written Fräulein Lütke to that effect, and have arranged matters so that you will have no difficulty about leaving. You can come home to us with Mrs. Emmons, who will sail on the 8th of January; or I have a proposition to make which will perhaps be more welcome to you.
Your cousins, as you know, have gone to Russia to spend some months. They would be glad to have you with them. Dorris spoke to me about it before she left America, and I have no doubt Fräulein Lütke can find some one to accompany you from Vienna to St. Petersburg, should you decide to go. My advice to you is not to lose this opportunity of seeing Russian life. Your Cousin Alice married well. Count Piloff belongs to one of the best Russian families, and is in a position to introduce you into the court society. I should like you to become better acquainted with Dorris, as your father and hers were more warmly attached than most brothers. Dorris is a woman whose friendship will be beneficial to you, and I know they will all try to make you happy. If you are not contented, of course you can come home when an opportunity occurs.
I have no time to write more to-day. Hoping to hear immediately when you have decided which course to pursue, I am
Your affectionate guardian,
My dear Dorris,—I am sorely perplexed. I have received a letter from a young man in Vienna,—Roger Fisk by name,—who is studying medicine abroad. Since his sojourn in Europe he has met Judith, and claims to have an undying love for her. He is twenty-six years of age, has no money, and cannot marry for years. He says that Judith returns his affection, but will give no promise without my sanction.
I have written to him, of course. I told him that my ward was too young to enter into any engagement; that in another year she would be her own mistress, but that, meantime, I could not consent to her making him any promise.
I am at a loss to conceive how these mutual confessions were made, when I supposed Judith to be in a strict boarding-school. I am shocked at this revelation, and cannot think of keeping her longer in such guardianship. I have decided, after much reflection, to accept your proposition, and let Judith join you in St. Petersburg. She is old enough to leave school now, but I have no doubt she needs a watchful eye over her. I wish you would do what you can for her, and write me your ideas on the subject. I shall feel at ease when she is twenty-one, and my responsibility will be at an end.
When you reply to this letter,—which I hope will be soon,—tell me what you think of the Tsar. I have a great sympathy for that oppressed Russian nation, and its efforts to free itself from the yoke which presses so heavily upon it. If you have witnessed any ceremony in which the Tsar took part, I should be glad to have you describe it to me.
With love from Mrs. Tremaine and myself for you, your sisters, and Thomas, I am
Your sincere friend,
My dear Mr. Tremaine,—I can only admire your ingenious way of getting rid of an irksome responsibility. Because Judith falls in love with a young man, you send her to us to be cured. I shall not find fault with you, for your ward proves to be a delightful companion; not the foolish, love-sick girl my fancy would have painted her if your letter had arrived before she did; and I can commend the course you have taken, from the bottom of my heart. We are a most harmonious quartette. Grace is always placid and happy. Tom is the perfection of a traveller, never objects to roughing it, laughs at his own blunders,—and he makes plenty of them,—and never does anything to make himself disagreeable except thinking all the shopkeepers are cheats, and carrying our letters about in his pocket for an indefinite length of time; I might say that his memory is his weak point. I have no need to describe myself and how much I add to the party: modesty forbids. Judith is a light-hearted, happy girl; she stands Tom's teasing and my scolding like an angel. As far as I can judge, she is quite contented, and does not appear to regret any object or person in Vienna. We have a very sober, staid Englishman here, a most unimpressionable creature, but he has succumbed to Judith's fascinations and is a willing victim. You need have no fears for her. It is to be hoped the young man in Vienna is as easily consoled. I have no doubt he is; still, I don't see why she should not marry the poor fellow if she wishes to.
Having finished the business part of my letter, I will proceed to answer your other questions. I have seen the Emperor several times driving in a small sledge, entirely unattended, and wrapped up to the nose in furs. Once a day he goes to the Summer Garden, where he walks for half an hour. The day he was expected to arrive from Moscow last week, I stationed myself at the window about ten o'clock. The street from the station to the palace was lined with soldiers. I heard loud cheering, and suddenly an open carriage swept by like the wind. It contained the Emperor and the Tsarevitch; there was no one on the box except the coachman. They were followed by about two hundred officers on horseback, but they went by so rapidly that I only got a confused idea of brass helmets, waving feathers, Cossack caps, and long spears. Then came several carriages from the palace, coachmen and footmen in the imperial livery of scarlet and gold, and then many scattered horsemen. The Tsar went at once to the church and thence to the palace. Perhaps you are astonished to hear me say they went in carriages. Before I came here I never imagined a carriage in St. Petersburg—certainly not in December. But the truth is, the snow, which is constantly falling, is not allowed to accumulate; it is continually being taken up and carted off to the Neva, so that it is not more than an inch or two deep in the street, and the sidewalks are comparatively clear. What a contrast to New York! One can always use a carriage here with comfort.
I think there is but one opinion about the Tsar, as far as he is personally concerned. Even his enemies acknowledge that it is only the power he represents which they wish to destroy. It seems to me no one could look at this Emperor, and not acknowledge that, if expression indicates anything of character, he is a good and conscientious man. His position is by no means an enviable one, nor should I care to be one of his ministers. They receive threatening letters all the time, I hear; and the Chief of the Third Section—appointed in the place of General Mezenzeff, who was stabbed in the streets last summer—has been warned that the life of his only little girl will be attempted.
Such is the respectable and humane course which these Nihilists, with whom you pretend to sympathize, take to attain their ends. There must be many good Russians who desire a more liberal form of government. Their cause would be mine were I a Russian subject, but I have no sympathy with the Nihilists, or with the principles which they avow.
Last week there was a grand review of all the troops about Petersburg (Russians drop the "St.") on the Champs de Mars, a large open field near the river. We went with Nicolas and Alice, to witness it from the windows of the Oldenburg Palace. The Prince of Oldenburg is related in some way to the imperial family, but I have not yet studied the "Almanach de Gotha" sufficiently to be quite sure of these relationships.
From the window in which we were placed, we could overlook the whole field, where the soldiers had been drawn up since eleven o'clock, although the review was not to begin until twelve. There had been a slight fall of snow the day before, which froze during the night; so the ground was very slippery, and the horses, which had not been newly shod, had some difficulty in keeping their feet. The white ground and the gray sky made an outlook which was anything but cheerful. Apparently the men found it cold waiting, and, not content with jumping up and down to warm themselves, they chased each other about and performed various gymnastics.
Punctually at noon, cheers resounded along the lines; a band at one end began the national hymn, which was taken up by the other bands in turn; the soldiers fell into place; and, looking intently far down the line of gray overcoats which covered the brilliant uniforms below us, I saw a crowd of horsemen approaching: as they came nearer I distinguished the Emperor on a gray horse, followed by his brothers and sons, and his staff, which consisted of about one hundred horsemen. I have no doubt there were many famous men among that retinue.
The Tsar was closely followed by the two Cossacks who went through the war with him, and always accompany him when he is on horseback.
After riding past the troops he took up his position on one side of the field, surrounded by his generals and military attachés. Here he remained while all the regiments filed by.
These troops did good service during the war. The Chasseurs lost one man out of three in the fight before Plevna.
A fat, jolly-looking priest, in a purple gown, was pointed out to me as having crossed the Balkans with the Simeonovsky regiment, last winter. On one occasion he was separated from the others, and found himself surrounded by Turks. Tucking his Icon under his left arm, he picked up a musket from the ground and laid about him with it, braining the first man he struck.
At the head of the cavalry came a motley crowd of a hundred horsemen, who at once attracted our attention. They carried a quantity of richly decorated weapons, of various antiquated shapes, and no two were dressed alike. Steel or gilt trappings covered the horses, each of which was caparisoned differently. They were unmistakably eastern, and somewhat barbaric in their appearance. This was the Emperor's bodyguard, composed of men from the Caucasus. Each province is required to furnish a certain number; each man provides his own horse, saddle, uniform, etc., hence the curious and picturesque variety. They are extremely proud of their position, and consider themselves the bulwarks of the throne and indispensable to the Tsar's comfort and safety.
The Don Cossacks were equally curious and interesting, sweeping by on their small horses, which seem a part of the rider, their hats jauntily cocked over one ear, with long, thin feathers sticking up in the air, and their short, crooked swords in attitude of attack. They do good service with these little swords, as many thousand flying soldiers in Sulieman Pacha's army last winter could testify.
The Cossack is an utterly free and independent fellow. He pays no taxes, but is required to serve in the army when needed, and to furnish a certain number of permanent troops. He serves without pay, and "keeps himself," which means that he takes what he wants wherever he finds it. The Tsarevitch is the nominal head, or Hetman, of all the Cossacks. Their loyalty is unquestioned, and they make excellent soldiers for some purposes, though each one is fond of skirmishing about on his own account, with little regard as to where his regiment or commander may be.
I looked curiously at the noses of the Paulovsky regiment. I had been told that the Emperor Paul, having a snub nose, founded this regiment for men with a similar misfortune, but I failed to discover anything peculiar about that feature in the present troop.
The review lasted an hour and was a very interesting sight; but I will spare you further details, and write no more except to beg you to get over your sympathy for the Nihilists as soon as possible. You have no idea of their diabolical plans; the information you get from newspapers, and especially from England, is quite untrustworthy. Their statements are colored by prejudice, so do not pin your faith to any of them. You see I have not been idle since I came to Russia, and have really picked up a good deal of information, but I fear I bore every one I meet with the number of interrogation points that I put in my conversation.
With love from us all, believe me
Yours sincerely,