Historical Miniatures Part 50

The Czar ran down to the seash.o.r.e; he never walked, but always ran.

"Life goes fast," he was wont to say, "and there is much to do."

When he reached the gravel bank he found a boat landing, with five men and the Dutch prisoner. The latter sat stolidly by the rudder, and smoked his pipe. But when he saw the Czar, he took off his cap, threw it in the air, and cried, "Hurrah!"

Czar Peter shaded his eyes, and, when he recognised his old teacher and friend, Jaen Scheerborck from Amsterdam, he jumped into the boat over the rowers' shoulders and knees, rushed into Jaen's arms and kissed him, so that his pipe broke and the seaman's great grey beard was full of smoke and nearly took fire. Then the Czar lifted the old man up, and carried him in his arms like a child to the sh.o.r.e.

"At last, you old rascal! I have you here with me! Now you shall see my city and my fleet, which I have built myself, for you have taught me.

Bring the cabriolet here, boy! and a grapnel from the boat; we will go, and tack about. Quickly!"

"Dear heart alive!" said the old man, picking the tobacco-ashes out of his beard, "to think that I have seen the Carpenter-Czar before I die; that is...."

"Into the cabriolet, old fellow! Boy, hang the grapnel behind. Where are you to sit? On my knees, of course!"

The cabriolet had only room for one person, and the captain actually had to sit on the Czar's lap. Three horses were yoked to it tandem-fashion, and a fourth ran beside the leader. The whip cracked, and the Czar played being at sea. "A good wind, isn't it? Twelve knots! Furl the sheet! so!"

A toll-gate appeared, and the captain, who knew the Czar's wild tricks but also his skill, began to cry "There is a toll-gate! Stop!"

But the Czar, who had found again his youth with his old friend of former times, and with his indestructible boyishness, liked practical jokes and dangers, whipped on the horses, whistled and shouted, "Let her go! Clear for action! Jump!"

The toll-gate was burst clean open, and the old man laughed so that he swayed on the Czar's knees. And so they drove along the sh.o.r.e. At the town gate the sentinels presented arms and saluted; on the streets people cried "Hurrah!" and when they reached the Admiralty, cannon were fired and the yards manned. But the Czar seriously or in play, as though he were on the sea, shouted "Anchor!"

So saying, he so threw the grapnel towards the wall, that it caught in a torch-holder, which bent but did not break. But the horses, which were still running, were suddenly forced back, and sank on their knees. The first of the three rose no more; it had been fatally injured by bursting in the toll-gate.

Three hours later, when the fleet and docks had been inspected, the Czar and Jaen Scheerborck sat in a seamen's tavern. The cabriolet stood without, and was "anch.o.r.ed" to a thatched roof. Brandy was on the table, and their pipes had filled the room with smoke. The two friends had discussed serious matters. The Czar had paid six visits, one to his staff of generals, from which he returned in a very excited state to the waiting captain. But, with his extraordinary capacity for shaking off what was unpleasant and for changing his moods, he now beamed with hilarity.

"You ask whence I shall get the inhabitants for my new town. I first brought fifty thousand workmen here. That was the nucleus. Then I commanded all officials, priests, and great landowners to build houses--each of them, one--whether they intended to live in it or not.

Now I have a hundred thousand. I know they talk and say that I build towns, but don't dwell in them myself. No! I build not for myself, but for the Russians. I hate Moscow, which smells of the Khan of the Tartars, and would prefer to live in the country. That is no one else's affair. Drink, old man! We have the whole day before us till five o'clock. Then I must be sober."

The old man drank cautiously, and did not know exactly how to behave in this grand society, which was at the same time so nautical.

"Now you must tell me some of the stories which the people relate about me. You know lots of them, Jaen."

"I know some certainly, but it is not possible...."

"Then I will tell some," said Peter, "Do you know the story of the pair of compa.s.ses and the cheese? No? Well, it runs thus: 'The Czar is so covetous that he always carries a box of drawing instruments in his pocket. With a pair of compa.s.ses he measures his cheese, to see whether any of it has been stolen since the last meal!' That is a good story!

Here is another! 'The Czar has a Tippler's Club. Once they determined to hold a festival, and the guests were shut up three days and three nights in order to drink. Each guest had a bench behind him, on which to sleep off his intoxication, besides two tubs, one for food and one for ... you understand?'"

"No, that is too absurd!"

"Such are the stories they like to tell in Petersburg. Have you not heard that I also extract teeth? In my palace, they say, there is a sack full of them. And then I am said to perform operations in hospital. Once I drew off so much water from a dropsical woman that she died."

"Do the people believe that?"

"Certainly they do. They are so stupid, you see; but I will cut off their a.s.ses' ears and singe their tongues...."

His eyes began to sparkle, and it was plain what direction his thoughts were taking. But however confidential he might be, there always seemed to be secret checks at work, so that, even when intoxicated, he always kept his great secrets though he told unimportant ones.

Just then an adjutant came in, and whispered something to the Czar.

"Exactly at five o'clock," answered the Czar in a loud voice. "Sixty grenadiers, with loaded guns and cutla.s.ses! Adieu! Jaen," continued the Czar, giving a sudden turn to his thoughts, "I will buy your loom, but I will not give more than fifty roubles for it."

"Sixty, sixty."

"You Satan of a Dutchman! You skinflint! If I offer fifty, that is an honour for you! Indeed it is!"

The Czar's anger rose, but it was connected with the adjutant's message, not with the loom. The pot was boiling, and the cover had to fly. "You miserable peddlers of groceries! Always fleecing people! But your time is past! Now come the English! They are another sort!"

Jaen the seaman became gloomy, and that annoyed the Czar still more.

He wanted to enjoy Jaen's company, and therefore sought to divert his thoughts. "Landlord," he cried, "bring champagne!"

The landlord came in, fell on his knees, and begged for mercy, for he had not the luxurious drink in his store-cellar. This superfluous word "store-cellar" might sound ironical and provocative, though unintentionally. Still it was welcome as an occasion for using the stick.

"Have you a store-cellar, you rascal? Will you tell me that the keeper of a seaman's alehouse has a cellar of spirits!" And now the stick danced. But as the Dutchman turned away with a gesture of disapproval, the Czar's fury broke loose. From time to time his disposition necessitated such outbreaks. His sabre flew out of its sheath; like a madman, he broke all the bottles on the dresser and cut all the legs off the chairs and tables. Then he made a pile out of the fragments, and prepared to burn the landlord on it.

Then a door opened, and a woman entered with a little child on her arm.

When the child saw its father prostrate with his neck stretched out, it began to scream. The Czar paused, quieted down, went to the woman, and accosted her. "Be easy, mother; no mischief is going on; we are only playing at sailors."

Then he turned to the landlord: "Send the account to Prince Menshikoff; he will pay. But if you scratch me.... Well, I forgive you this time....

Now let us go, Jaen. Up with the anchor, and stand by the sheet!"

Then they drove into the town. The Czar ran up into various houses and came down again, until it was noon. They then halted before Menshikoff's palace. "Is dinner ready?" asked the Czar from the cabriolet.

"Yes, your Majesty," answered a lackey.

"Serve up for two! Is the Prince at home?"

"No, your Majesty."

"Never mind. Serve up for two."

It was the Czar's habit thus to make himself a guest in his friends'

houses, whether they were at home or not, and he is said once to have thus quartered himself upon somebody, with two hundred of his courtiers.

After a splendid dinner, the Czar went into an ante-room and laid down to sleep. The captain had already gone to sleep at the table. But the Czar laid a watch beside him; he could wake whenever he wished.

When he awoke, he went into the dining-room, and found Jaen Scheerborck sleeping at the table.

"Bring him out!" commanded the Czar.

"Is he not to accompany your Majesty any more?" the chamberlain, who was a favourite, ventured to ask.

"No! I have had enough of him; one should not meet people more than once in a lifetime. Carry him to the pump--that will sober him, and then take him to his ship"--and with a contemptuous glance he added, "You old beast!"

Then he felt whether his sabre was secure, and went out.

After his sleep, Peter was again the Emperor--lofty, upright, dignified.