Chapter XLIV: “christohs Voskress.”

“God’s Spirit sweet,
Quench Thou the heat
Of our passionate hearts when they rave and beat;
Quiet their swell,
And gently tell
That His right hand doeth all things well.”

Ivan “entered into his closet, and shut his door;” not to hold communion with his Father in heaven, but to wrestle in solitude and silence with the anguish of his soul. Never before had a sorrow touched the roots of his nature, the very ground and core of his being. He was stricken to the heart, but he was not stunned by the blow. He had been able to hear and to comprehend every detail; and now--far from telling himself, as men often do in the first strangeness of a sudden grief, that this thing was not, _could not_ be, true--he felt as if he had known it for years, as if it had already become part of his life. “The Czar Alexander Paulovitch is dead,” said Ivan--“dead in the very prime of his days, in the very zenith of his power and glory.”

From the first hour he knew him, the soul of Ivan clave to that of his Czar. His love for him was a passion of loyalty and hero-worship, blended with deepest personal affection and gratitude. And now it seemed to him that the world, from which that grand presence had departed, was henceforward a dull, cold, sunless world; where, indeed, there might be much to do and much to suffer, but which could never more be kindled by the light of morning, by the glamour of romance. All was changed, and changed for ever.

He laid before him on the table two memorials of the past which he always wore--the Moscow medal, and the golden coin Alexander’s hand had given him long ago by the Oka. The medal he looked at with a sigh and put down quietly, the coin he pressed once and again to his lips. Clearly, as though it were but yesterday, he saw the noble form of “his boyar”--the stately head, the young face, so full of manly beauty and deep concern--bending compassionately over the mujik’s prostrate form. Then, unawares, the vision changed. The low, distant chant of sweet voices in the chapel, performing the midnight Easter service, fell upon his ear, and turned aside the current of his thoughts, though it could not break the isolation of his sorrow. Instead of the banks of the Oka he saw the vine-clad plains of France, and heard the thrilling harmony, almost awful in its solemn majesty, of that thanksgiving service in the Plaine des Vertus. In what joy and glory had his Czar walked that day--so grand and peerless amongst men--so full of lowly, reverent gladness before his Saviour and his God!

A flood of bitter pain swept over him. “O God!” he cried, “why didst thou not take him thus to thyself?” If a heroic, triumphant death had stopped him in the midst of his career of victory, Ivan almost felt as though he could have borne the blow. Or if God had made him to prosper in all he put his hand to, had given him to see the glad fruition of all his hopes and dreams, and then gently taken him, full of years and honours, from an earthly to a heavenly crown, Ivan could have comprehended his ways with his servant; he could have said, “Thy will be done.”

He did _not_ say it now. His soul rose up in rebellion, and from its seething depths there came the bitter cry, “Was this thy word unto thy servant, upon which thou didst cause him to hope, ‘I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation’?”--_Was_ he satisfied? What had he gained? Failure, disappointment, sorrow marked every step of his way. Almost had he fainted utterly; almost had his feet stumbled on the dark mountains, while he looked for light, and behold, darkness and the shadow of death. Until at last, worn out and weary, “with shattered nerves and sinews all unstrung,” and with heart broken by the ingratitude of those he loved and trusted, he “laid himself down in the grave and slept the sleep of death.” “Could any death have been more sad?” cried Ivan in his agony. “Rather would it have seemed a fitting end for a life spent in the service of self and sin, than for one which was laid as an offering at the feet of Christ.” Numb, blank despair stole over his heart, and a low half-broken moan arose from his lips--“No use in conflict, no hope of victory! The noblest, brightest lives only end in the worst bitterness of failure. God is great and good, and there is his heaven still to look for; but all things here below are a dark sad mystery. This world belongs to the powers of evil, and they prevail.”

Fast bound in the trance of his sorrow, he did not see the red light of the northern morning steal slowly in. Nor did he hear an approaching footstep, nor a gentle knock at the door; which, however, was not fastened on the inside, so Clémence opened it softly, and came towards him. Bending down, she pressed upon his white lips the Easter salutation, saying, “Christohs voskress” (Christ is risen).

“Voyst venno voskress” (He is risen indeed), Ivan answered mechanically, after the beautiful custom of the Eastern Church.

“My husband,” she said softly, laying her hand on his arm, “dost thou believe it?”

He looked up: her face too was pale, and bore the traces of many tears. “I _know_ it to be true,” he said.

“Do you believe it, my Ivan? Do you believe, in your heart of hearts, that Christ has burst the bonds of death, not for himself alone, but for all whom we love?”

“Yes; I believe in the resurrection of the just,” said Ivan with trembling lips.

“Then why sorrow for our Czar as those that have no hope?”

“Do not speak to me, Clémence. I cannot bear it yet. My heart is breaking. Not so much because God has taken him from us, as because of all the darkness--all the seeming failure.”

A still, calm smile passed over the quiet face of Clémence, kindling it with a radiance more than that of the morning. Ivan looked at her wondering. “What is it?” he asked, taking her hand and drawing her to a seat beside him.

“_Christ is risen_,” she said again. “That word folds up within it all comfort, Ivan.”

“I see no comfort now.”

“You will see it soon, dearest. You will see that His resurrection from the dead--the ending of his bitter agony in endless joy--means the resurrection of all our hopes; and assures us for evermore that life, not death, joy not sorrow, fruition not failure, is his purpose for all who trust him.”

“But how bitter the way!”

“Who thinks of the way when the end is won? Was the Master’s own way an easy one, Ivan? Yet it is said, ‘He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.’ And as the Master, so the servant.”

“_Satisfied?_” Ivan repeated. “With what? Surely not with the results of his own work. I thought God meant him to do such great things, Clémence! Almost to bring in the earthly reign of righteousness and peace. And I believe he thought so too himself. It was the deepest longing of his heart. It was what he tried to do--tried and failed.”

“Do you remember, Ivan, the day our little Alexander tried so hard to make a bow--‘a real bow to shoot with,’ as he called it? He failed in every effort, until at last he grew discouraged, and cried bitterly, refusing to be comforted. Then _you_ came, took the wood and the knife from his hand, and made the bow. I shall never forget his bright glad face as he stood beside you, watching while you worked. He was so proud of your strength and skill, and your success in doing what he could not do; and when the bow was finished, he bore it off triumphantly, to show every one in the settlement how well his father made it for him. Ivan, our child’s trust and joy have been a parable for me to-night. I seem to see him for whom our Easter festival is turned into mourning, standing thus by the side of Christ, in full, restful, glad content. What matter if the work dropped unfinished from his own hand? He no longer heeds it now. It is _Christ’s_ work he is watching. He sees Him preparing the true reign of peace and righteousness, the grand, final victory of right over wrong, good over evil. He is satisfied.”

Ivan’s sad face brightened a little. “You bring me comfort, Clémence,” he said. “I begin to see that even failures--”

“_If_ failures after all they were, which I doubt,” Clémence interrupted. “Perhaps the seeds he has been sowing will spring up in flower and fruit when not we alone, but our children too, have gone to join him in the resting-place within the veil. Indeed I think no real failure possible to the child of God, except failure in trusting him.”

“And there he did _not_ fail,” Ivan said. After a pause he added, “Yes, there he won the victory;--and yet Christ’s victory is more to him than his own.”

“As _his_ glory was ever more to thee than thine, Ivan.”

A patter of little feet and a sound of childish voices broke in upon their quiet talk. There was a loud shrill burst of laughter from the baby lips of Henri, checked by low words from Alexander. “Hush! we must not laugh loud--not _this_ morning.” Then the half-closed door was pushed open, and at once three little voices spoke the Easter greeting--“Christohs voskress.” Who should be the first to claim Papinka’s Easter kiss? Alexander hung back, and putting his arm round Feodor, held him back also, that sunny-haired little Henri might spring triumphantly to his father’s arms, never doubting that his own active limbs had won the race for him.

“Voyst venno voskress,” said Ivan, as he fondly kissed, first the baby brother, then the two elder boys. There was magic in the touch of those little lips to soothe the heavy sorrow at his heart. But something in the thoughtful face of Alexander made him draw the boy close to him. “My child has been weeping this Easter morning,” he said.

For a moment the child did not speak. Then he said falteringly, “I meant to serve the Czar, my godfather, when I grew to be a man.”

“Serve instead _his_ King, whom he loved,” answered Ivan. “And take this thought with thee to keep all thy life, ‘The Lord is _good_ to the soul that seeketh him.’”

“Yes, father,” the boy whispered, winding his arm about his father’s neck. “Yes, he is good; for he comforted him at last.”

“He did, my child. However dark his ways with his own may seem to be, yet are they all mercy and truth--_all_--when we see them from the end to the beginning. ‘Though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion.’ He will make the heart of his own to rejoice, and that joy no man taketh from them.”

“Papinka, are these our Easter gifts?” asked Feodor, laying his rash little fingers on the silver medal and the golden coin so temptingly near him on the table.

“Nay, my boy; these are too precious for thy father to give away even to his dear little son. When he is laid in the grave, these shall be laid there with him. But to-day, my children, we will not talk of the grave, but of Him who came back from it, and opened our way to the happy home beyond.”

So the current of those lives flowed on;--little lives of children, like bright, glad mountain rills, laughing as they tripped along; larger lives of thoughtful men and women, moving towards the sea in ever broadening channels, and bearing precious freights. Sorrow might come to them, but not despair; conflict, but not defeat. Life to them was “a cordial Yes, and not a dreary No,” for the same reason which makes it worth while for each one of us to live and work to-day--because “Christohs voskress,” Christ is risen indeed.

THE END.

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FOOTNOTES:

[1] Nobleman.

[2] Foreigners.

[3] Get out!--Go out from my presence in disgrace.

[4] “Lord, have mercy upon me.”

[5] A light, sour beverage, made by pouring water upon flour or meal.

[6] Brandy.

[7] Of course this would not be done now. But the scene is given exactly as it occurred.

[8] Alexander’s part in the adventure told above is historically true, even to the smallest particular. The only liberty taken has been that of transferring the scene from the bank of the Wilia to that of the Oka. The story became known in England through a private letter, and the Royal Humane Society sent the Czar a medal--rather a singular “decoration” for a monarch. He “accepted it with a noble and modest simplicity,” and profited by the circumstance to introduce a similar society into his own dominions. For the description of his personal appearance one contemporary authority amongst many may be cited: “Malgré la régularité et la délicatesse de ses traits, l’éclat, la fraîcheur de ses teints, sa beauté frappait moins à la première vue que cet air de bienveillance qui lui captivait tout les cœurs, et du premier mouvement inspirait la confiance.... Il avait l’œil vif, spirituel, et couleur d’un ciel sans nuages; sa vue était un peu courte, mais il possédait le sourire des yeux, si l’on peut appeler ainsi l’expression de son regard bienveillant et doux.... Son front chauve, mais qui donnait à l’ensemble de sa figure quelque chose d’ouvert et de serein, ses cheveux d’un blond doré, arrangés avec soin comme dans les belles têtes des camées ou des médailles antiques, semblaient faits pour recevoir la triple couronne de laurier, de myrte, et d’olivier.”

[9] A kind of cold soup made of kvass, with small pieces of meat in it.

[10] This fable was extensively believed in Russia, and not exclusively by the lower classes.

[11] It is, perhaps, scarcely probable that a man of the character and position of Petrovitch, an “old Muscovite” and a _protégé_ of Rostopchine, would have appreciated these liberal measures. But Petrovitch is supposed to be unusually thoughtful and enlightened. Upon other points, especially upon the French war, he is made to share the usual sentiments of his class.

[12] Readers of Mr. Browning’s “Dramatic Idylls” will remember “Ivan Ivanovitch.”

[13] Lord, or Sir.

[14] Driver.

[15] His heir would have been the wayward, eccentric Constantine, who, in such a crisis, could not have maintained his position for a month.

[16] De Maistre.

[17] Madame de Stael, “Dix Années d’Exil.”

[18] An eye-witness tells us “how the image of St. Sergius was presented to the young Czar, whose handsome face, surrounded by the old banners in the dimly-lighted church, had a most picturesque effect.” (See the “Memoirs of Madame Junot.”)

[19] All these particulars, as well as those of the meeting in the Hall of the Merchants, are historical.

[20] Elected annually from their own body. His munificent donation was paid the next day.

[21] Madame de Stael.

[22] He fought in the Vendéan War, and was taken prisoner and executed by the Republicans. He said to his judges, “J’ai fait mon devoir; faites votre métier.”

[23] Alexander would not allow the country to be laid waste before the invaders; but government stores were destroyed or carried away, and private individuals voluntarily did the same, to a great extent, with their own possessions.

[24] These outrages, and others yet more revolting, were constantly committed by the French in Russia.

[25] A fact.

[26] The story of Petrovitch is historical. Scarcely anything has been added, and only a few rather improbable details have been omitted.

[27] God the Son.

[28] Her persistence in remaining in the city and her death are historical.

[29] The conversation which follows is given as it was recorded by Michaud himself. All the details in this chapter are historical, without any admixture of fiction.

[30] General Kutusov.

[31] De Maistre.--Sir Robert Wilson, an Englishman, was of great use in this crisis as the friend and counsellor of Alexander.

[32] Another story is told, connecting Alexander’s first acquaintance with the ninety-first psalm with Prince Galitzin, but that given above seems on the whole to be preferable.

[33] A fact.

[34] The ninth of the fourteen official Tchinns, or ranks, recognized by the Russian Government. Each rank in the army has a corresponding grade and title in the civil service.

[35] Any one who has read the letters and proclamations of Count Rostopchine, will be aware that the violence of language attributed to him is very far from being exaggerated.

[36] The Empress Mary, the mother of Alexander, and the Empress Elizabeth, his wife.

[37] De Maistre.

[38] The custom upon such occasions.

[39] The French, during the retreat, formed themselves into little “coteries” of twelve or fifteen. If an outsider tried to join himself to one of these, he was pitilessly driven away to die, sometimes even murdered.

[40] A fact.

[41] Not “earlier than usual,” as the apologists of Napoleon delight in repeating.

[42] A fact.

[43] The survivors in this terrible calamity were usually those who “happened to have about them a little sugar or coffee.”

[44] A fact.

[45] All that is told in this and the succeeding chapter about the ministrations of Alexander to the French prisoners is strictly and circumstantially true. Sir Archibald Alison, who well observes that Alexander terminated “a campaign of unexampled danger and glory by deeds of unprecedented mercy,” had the details from the Emperor’s own physicians, Wylie and Crichton, his assistants in the noble work. There are many other sources of information from which interesting anecdotes may be gleaned. The story of the dying Spaniard is one of these. Alexander not only took care to forward his letter, but sought out all the other Spanish prisoners, clothed them, and sent them home at his own expense. He described his visit to the Convent of St. Basil to a friend in these words:--“I was there in the evening: a single lamp illumined those profound vaults, beneath which piles of corpses had been heaped almost as high as the walls. I cannot express the horror with which I was penetrated when amongst the dead bodies I saw creatures moving who were yet alive.” On his way to Vilna, he took up in his own sledge starving French soldiers whom he met with, and brought them to those whom he could trust to take care of them, leaving money to supply their wants.

[46] Madame de Choiseul-Gouffier.

[47] “Eh, mon Dieu,” s’écria le maréchal, “qui est-ce qui aurait le courage de faire du mal à cet ange?”

[48] The aide-de-camp was Rapatel, a protégé of Moreau, who had attached himself to Alexander out of gratitude for his kindness to the family of his friend and patron.

[49] A distinguished English officer, who was present, says this was the only occasion on which he ever saw Alexander put himself personally forward; he was usually, though only too ready to share the perils of war, careful to leave its glories to his generals. But this was to save life.

[50] He could say all that and more with perfect truth. The conduct of Alexander during the War of Liberation forms a very bright page in his history. He spared no effort to infuse his own courage, energy, and determination into his allies. At the outset, he wished for the chief command of the united armies, a position for which he was well qualified, and to which he possessed every possible claim. But Austrian jealousy interfered: for it must be remembered that Francis of Austria had given his daughter in marriage to Napoleon, so that the infant heir of the common enemy was the grandson of one of the allied sovereigns. Inspired by his cabinet, the Austrian general, Prince Schwartzenberg, opposed the arrangement, and Alexander quietly gave way. He appeased the indignation of the King of Prussia, and reconciled Schwartzenberg with him. He broke up his own enormous armies into auxiliary corps, most of which he placed under the command of his allies; and abandoning the lower ambition of being the nominal head of the confederation, contented himself with being its soul and its inspiring genius. It was he who planned, and urged upon his allies, the march upon Paris that brought the war to a successful termination.

[51] A fact.

[52] Englishmen who were in Paris during 1814 bear testimony to this interesting fact.

[53] “Ses ennemis cessaient de l’être à ses yeux, dès qu’ils étaient malheureux.”--MADAME DE CHOISEUL-GOUFFIER.

[54] He established _two_; one in St. Petersburg, and the other in Warsaw.

[55] Domergues, a Frenchman bitterly prejudiced against everything Russian, pronounces this allowance really “munificent” under the circumstances, and says the prisoners were able to live upon it in the greatest comfort.

[56] A well-known form of punishment in Russia. Alexander himself inflicted it upon some personages of the highest rank, for gross acts of peculation and dishonesty.

[57] Alexander always referred to the day of Austerlitz as “his unfortunate day,” and never ceased to mourn the slaughter to which he led his brave army upon that occasion.

[58] A similar act of imperial munificence, performed in a similar way, drew the comment from De Maistre: “En fait d’élégance souveraine, l’Empereur de Russie est un grand artiste.”

[59] It is understood, of course, that Ivan speaks from the _Russian_ point of view.

[60] “In Russia every coxcomb is a prince.”

[61] All this, as also the account given at the end of this chapter, is strictly historical.

[62] 1 John v. 13. The twofold use of the expression “believe on the name of the Son of God” in this passage is instructive.

[63] This story is not true; but it was believed at the time.

[64] “Many a Parisian scoffer, going to hear her in her drawing-room, which was open to all, returned,” says Sainte Beuve, “at least thoroughly subdued by her personal magnetism. Those who seriously believe in the intervention of Providence in the affairs of the world should not judge her too superciliously: 1815 was a decisive epoch, and to religious minds it may well have appeared that the crisis was grave enough to demand a prophet.”

[65] Really given to Madame de Krudener by a child of Stéphanie’s age, at a meeting similar to the one described above.

[66] The Governor of Paris.

[67] “He ‘has the honour of being presented’ to a lady; he ‘begs that they will excuse’ him, etc.; he says, ‘will you permit?’ as well as others. He is right, for he is a true gentleman, which is not quite so easy as some believe.”--_De Maistre._

[68] Vie de Madame de Krudener, par M. Eynard.

[69] In the following conversation not only the sentiments but the words given are all those of Alexander himself. It was his habit to pay an occasional evening visit in the manner described above to those whom he esteemed. He was not particular as to their rank (some merchants’ wives had poured out tea for him not unfrequently), but they were always persons noted for piety and good works.

[70] These remarks on the influence of the Bible are taken from the conversations of Alexander with the Lutheran Bishop Eylert.

[71] A fact. Visitors to St. Petersburg during the reign of Alexander bore witness to the admirable condition of these institutions.

[72] “Emancipation is one of his ruling ideas. A great part of the acts of his government bear the impression of it.”--_Dupré de St. Maure._

[73] The Russian alphabet; so called because arranged by Bishop Cyril.

[74] By William Penn. At the special desire of Alexander, the Countess Metchersky translated it into Russ.

[75] Kohl.

[76] From a speech made by Alexander at a meeting of the Frankfort Bible Society.

[77] Dissenters.

[78] Let the thoughtful student read the whole passage from which these lines are taken. The story of Arthur, as the Laureate has transfigured and interpreted it for us, sheds a ray of light upon that of Alexander.

[79] This answer was really given by a child of his age, the little son of Madame de Choiseul-Gouffier.

[80] The army which Russia, in common with the other Allied Powers, left in France after the peace of 1815. It was withdrawn in the latter part of 1818.

[81] Words used by Alexander to a young Protestant missionary whom the Englishman, Lewis Way, brought to see him.

[82] Dupré de St. Maure.

[83] “Vie de Madame de Krudener.” Par M. Eynard.

[84] The death of his only child, Sophie Narischkin, a beautiful and most amiable girl, about to be married to one of his aides-de-camp. The whole story is deeply touching.

[85] “His face showed care and sorrow, but the remembrance of these walks, and the acts of benevolence resulting from them, is the most touching of my recollections in Russia,” writes a Frenchman who happened to be at Taganrog at the time.

[86] Life of William Allen.

[87] Nor was it. Alexander died on the 1st of December 1825, Elizabeth on the 16th of the following May.

[88] “He was said to be no solitary example of a broken heart for the loss of Alexander. Many were mentioned both in St. Petersburg and in Moscow; and a Russian assured me that he would venture any wager that if all the deaths from this cause throughout the empire were reckoned together, they would amount to above a hundred.”--_Kohl._

[89] “J’aimais à voir partager ma tristesse jusque par les habitans de cette Champagne où Alexandre était entré en vainqueur. Il n’y eut pas un pauvre vigneron d’Epernay ou de Vertus qui ne se fut écrié en apprenant la mort d’Alexandre, ‘Ah, quel malheur; il avait sauvé la France!’ Une paysanne me disait un jour, ‘Hélas, madame, il était aussi aimable qu’il était beau!’”--_Madame de Choiseul-Gouffier._

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.

Punctuation and spelling of non-English words were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

Page 261: “adequately express, themselves” was printed with the comma.