Beauty and The Beast, and Tales From Home

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BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
AND
TALES OF HOME

BY
BAYARD TAYLOR.

CONTENTS.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
THE STRANGE FRIEND
JACOB FLINT'S JOURNEY
CAN A LIFE HIDE ITSELF?
TWIN-LOVE
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A. C.
FRIEND ELI'S DAUGHTER
MISS BARTRAM'S TROUBLE
MRS. STRONGITHARM'S REPORT

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
A STORY OF OLD RUSSIA.

I.

We are about to relate a story of mingled fact and fancy. The
facts are borrowed from the Russian author, Petjerski; the fancy is
our own. Our task will chiefly be to soften the outlines of
incidents almost too sharp and rugged for literary use, to supply
them with the necessary coloring and sentiment, and to give a
coherent and proportioned shape to the irregular fragments of an
old chronicle. We know something, from other sources, of the
customs described, something of the character of the people from
personal observation, and may therefore the more freely take such
liberties as we choose with the rude, vigorous sketches of the
Russian original. One who happens to have read the work of
Villebois can easily comprehend the existence of a state of
society, on the banks of the Volga, a hundred years ago, which
is now impossible, and will soon become incredible. What is
strangest in our narrative has been declared to be true.

II.

We are in Kinesma, a small town on the Volga, between Kostroma and
Nijni-Novgorod. The time is about the middle of the last century,
and the month October.

There was trouble one day, in the palace of Prince Alexis, of
Kinesma. This edifice, with its massive white walls, and its
pyramidal roofs of green copper, stood upon a gentle mound to the
eastward of the town, overlooking it, a broad stretch of the Volga,
and the opposite shore. On a similar hill, to the westward, stood
the church, glittering with its dozen bulging, golden domes. These
two establishments divided the sovereignty of Kinesma between them.

Prince Alexis owned the bodies of the inhabitants, (with the
exception of a few merchants and tradesmen,) and the Archimandrite
Sergius owned their souls. But the shadow of the former stretched
also over other villages, far beyond the ring of the wooded
horizon. The number of his serfs was ten thousand, and his rule
over them was even less disputed than theirs over their domestic
animals.

The inhabitants of the place had noticed with dismay that the
slumber-flag had not been hoisted on the castle, although it was
half an hour after the usual time. So rare a circumstance
betokened sudden wrath or disaster, on the part of Prince
Alexis. Long experience had prepared the people for anything that
might happen, and they were consequently not astonished at the
singular event which presently transpired.

The fact is, that in the first place, the dinner had been prolonged
full ten minutes beyond its accustomed limit, owing to a discussion
between the Prince, his wife, the Princess Martha, and their son
Prince Boris. The last was to leave for St. Petersburg in a
fortnight, and wished to have his departure preceded by a festival
at the castle. The Princess Martha was always ready to second the
desires of her only child. Between the two they had pressed some
twenty or thirty thousand rubles out of the old Prince, for the
winter diversions of the young one. The festival, to be sure,
would have been a slight expenditure for a noble of such immense
wealth as Prince Alexis; but he never liked his wife, and he took
a stubborn pleasure in thwarting her wishes. It was no
satisfaction that Boris resembled her in character. That weak
successor to the sovereignty of Kinesma preferred a game of cards
to a bear hunt, and could never drink more than a quart of vodki
without becoming dizzy and sick.

"Ugh!" Prince Alexis would cry, with a shudder of disgust, "the
whelp barks after the dam!"

A state dinner he might give; but a festival, with dances, dramatic
representations, burning tar-barrels, and cannon,--no! He knitted
his heavy brows and drank deeply, and his fiery gray eyes shot such
incessant glances from side to side that Boris and the Princess
Martha could not exchange a single wink of silent advice. The
pet bear, Mishka, plied with strong wines, which Prince Alexis
poured out for him into a golden basin, became at last comically
drunk, and in endeavoring to execute a dance, lost his balance, and
fell at full length on his back.

The Prince burst into a yelling, shrieking fit of laughter.
Instantly the yellow-haired serfs in waiting, the Calmucks at the
hall-door, and the half-witted dwarf who crawled around the table
in his tow shirt, began laughing in chorus, as violently as they
could. The Princess Martha and Prince Boris laughed also; and
while the old man's eyes were dimmed with streaming tears of mirth,
quickly exchanged nods. The sound extended all over the castle,
and was heard outside of the walls.

"Father!" said Boris, "let us have the festival, and Mishka shall
perform again. Prince Paul of Kostroma would strangle, if he could
see him."

"Good, by St. Vladimir!" exclaimed Prince Alexis. "Thou shalt have
it, my Borka![1] Where's Simon Petrovitch? May the Devil scorch
that vagabond, if he doesn't do better than the last time! Sasha!"

[1] Little Boris.

A broad-shouldered serf stepped forward and stood with bowed head.

"Lock up Simon Petrovitch in the southwestern tower. Send the
tailor and the girls to him, to learn their parts. Search every
one of them before they go in, and if any one dares to carry vodki
to the beast, twenty-five lashes on the back!"

Sasha bowed again and departed. Simon Petrovitch was the court-
poet of Kinesma. He had a mechanical knack of preparing
allegorical diversions which suited the conventional taste of
society at that time; but he had also a failing,--he was rarely
sober enough to write. Prince Alexis, therefore, was in the habit
of locking him up and placing a guard over him, until the
inspiration had done its work. The most comely young serfs of both
sexes were selected to perform the parts, and the court-tailor
arranged for them the appropriate dresses. It depended very much
upon accident--that is to say, the mood of Prince Alexis--whether
Simon Petrovitch was rewarded with stripes or rubles.

The matter thus settled, the Prince rose from the table and walked
out upon an overhanging balcony, where an immense reclining arm-
chair of stuffed leather was ready for his siesta. He preferred
this indulgence in the open air; and although the weather was
rapidly growing cold, a pelisse of sables enabled him to slumber
sweetly in the face of the north wind. An attendant stood with the
pelisse outspread; another held the halyards to which was attached
the great red slumber-flag, ready to run it up and announce to all
Kinesma that the noises of the town must cease; a few seconds more,
and all things would have been fixed in their regular daily
courses. The Prince, in fact, was just straightening his shoulders
to receive the sables; his eyelids were dropping, and his eyes,
sinking mechanically with them, fell upon the river-road, at the
foot of the hill. Along this road walked a man, wearing the
long cloth caftan of a merchant.

Prince Alexis started, and all slumber vanished out of his eyes.
He leaned forward for a moment, with a quick, eager expression;
then a loud roar, like that of an enraged wild beast, burst from
his mouth. He gave a stamp that shook the balcony.

"Dog!" he cried to the trembling attendent, "my cap! my whip!"

The sables fell upon the floor, the cap and whip appeared in a
twinkling, and the red slumber-flag was folded up again for the
first time in several years, as the Prince stormed out of the
castle. The traveller below had heard the cry,--for it might have
been heard half a mile. He seemed to have a presentiment of evil,
for he had already set off towards the town at full speed.

To explain the occurence, we must mention one of the Prince's many
peculiar habits. This was, to invite strangers or merchants of the
neighborhood to dine with him, and, after regaling them
bountifully, to take his pay in subjecting them to all sorts of
outrageous tricks, with the help of his band of willing domestics.
Now this particular merchant had been invited, and had attended;
but, being a very wide-awake, shrewd person, he saw what was
coming, and dexterously slipped away from the banquet without being
perceived. The Prince vowed vengeance, on discovering the escape,
and he was not a man to forget his word.

Impelled by such opposite passions, both parties ran with
astonishing speed. The merchant was the taller, but his long
caftan, hastily ungirdled, swung behind him and dragged in the air.

The short, booted legs of the Prince beat quicker time, and he
grasped his short, heavy, leathern whip more tightly as he saw the
space diminishing. They dashed into the town of Kinesma a hundred
yards apart. The merchant entered the main street, or bazaar,
looking rapidly to right and left, as he ran, in the hope of
espying some place of refuge. The terrible voice behind him
cried,--

"Stop, scoundrel! I have a crow to pick with you!"

And the tradesmen in their shops looked on and laughed, as well
they might, being unconcerned spectators of the fun. The fugitive,
therefore, kept straight on, notwithstanding a pond of water
glittered across the farther end of the street.

Although Prince Alexis had gained considerably in the race, such
violent exercise, after a heavy dinner, deprived him of breath. He
again cried,--

"Stop!"

"But the merchant answered,--

"No, Highness! You may come to me, but I will not go to you."

"Oh, the villian!" growled the Prince, in a hoarse whisper, for he
had no more voice.

The pond cut of all further pursuit. Hastily kicking off his loose
boots, the merchant plunged into the water, rather than encounter
the princely whip, which already began to crack and snap in fierce
anticipation. Prince Alexis kicked off his boots and followed;
the pond gradually deepened, and in a minute the tall merchant
stood up to his chin in the icy water, and his short pursuer
likewise but out of striking distance. The latter coaxed and
entreated, but the victim kept his ground.

"You lie, Highness!" he said, boldly. "If you want me, come to
me."

"Ah-h-h!" roared the Prince, with chattering teeth, "what a
stubborn rascal you are! Come here, and I give you my word that I
will not hurt you. Nay,"--seeing that the man did not move,--"you
shall dine with me as often as you please. You shall be my friend;
by St. Vladimir, I like you!"

"Make the sign of the cross, and swear it by all the Saints," said
the merchant, composedly.

With a grim smile on his face, the Prince stepped back and
shiveringly obeyed. Both then waded out, sat down upon the ground
and pulled on their boots; and presently the people of Kinesma
beheld the dripping pair walking side by side up the street,
conversing in the most cordial manner. The merchant dried his
clothes FROM WITHIN, at the castle table; a fresh keg of old
Cognac was opened; and although the slumber-flag was not unfurled
that afternoon, it flew from the staff and hushed the town nearly
all the next day.

III.

The festival granted on behalf of Prince Boris was one of the
grandest ever given at the castle. In character it was a
singular cross between the old Muscovite revel and the French
entertainments which were then introduced by the Empress Elizabeth.

All the nobility, for fifty versts around, including Prince Paul
and the chief families of Kostroma, were invited. Simon Petrovitch
had been so carefully guarded that his work was actually completed
and the parts distributed; his superintendence of the performance,
however, was still a matter of doubt, as it was necessary to
release him from the tower, and after several days of forced
abstinence he always manifested a raging appetite. Prince Alexis,
in spite of this doubt, had been assured by Boris that the dramatic
part of the entertainment would not be a failure. When he
questioned Sasha, the poet's strong-shouldered guard, the latter
winked familiarly and answered with a proverb,--

"I sit on the shore and wait for the wind,"--which was as much as
to say that Sasha had little fear of the result

The tables were spread in the great hall, where places for one
hundred chosen guests were arranged on the floor, while the three
or four hundred of minor importance were provided for in the
galleries above. By noon the whole party were assembled. The
halls and passages of the castle were already permeated with rich
and unctuous smells, and a delicate nose might have picked out and
arranged, by their finer or coarser vapors, the dishes preparing
for the upper and lower tables. One of the parasites of Prince
Alexis, a dilapidated nobleman, officiated as Grand Marshal,--an
office which more than compensated for the savage charity he
received, for it was performed in continual fear and trembling.
The Prince had felt the stick of the Great Peter upon his own back,
and was ready enough to imitate any custom of the famous monarch.

An orchestra, composed principally of horns and brass instruments,
occupied a separate gallery at one end of the dining-hall. The
guests were assembled in the adjoining apartments, according to
their rank; and when the first loud blast of the instruments
announced the beginning of the banquet, two very differently
attired and freighted processions of servants made their appearance
at the same time. Those intended for the princely table numbered
two hundred,--two for each guest. They were the handsomest young
men among the ten thousand serfs, clothed in loose white trousers
and shirts of pink or lilac silk; their soft golden hair, parted in
the middle, fell upon their shoulders, and a band of gold-thread
about the brow prevented it from sweeping the dishes they carried.
They entered the reception-room, bearing huge trays of sculptured
silver, upon which were anchovies, the finest Finnish caviar,
sliced oranges, cheese, and crystal flagons of Cognac, rum, and
kummel. There were fewer servants for the remaining guests, who
were gathered in a separate chamber, and regaled with the common
black caviar, onions, bread, and vodki. At the second blast of
trumpets, the two companies set themselves in motion and entered
the dining-hall at opposite ends. Our business, however, is only
with the principal personages, so we will allow the common
crowd quietly to mount to the galleries and satisfy their senses
with the coarser viands, while their imagination is stimulated by
the sight of the splendor and luxury below.

Prince Alexis entered first, with a pompous, mincing gait, leading
the Princess Martha by the tips of her fingers. He wore a caftan
of green velvet laced with gold, a huge vest of crimson brocade,
and breeches of yellow satin. A wig, resembling clouds boiling in
the confluence of opposing winds, surged from his low, broad
forehead, and flowed upon his shoulders. As his small, fiery eyes
swept the hall, every servant trembled: he was as severe at the
commencement as he was reckless at the close of a banquet. The
Princess Martha wore a robe of pink satin embroidered with flowers
made of small pearls, and a train and head-dress of crimson velvet.

Her emeralds were the finest outside of Moscow, and she wore them
all. Her pale, weak, frightened face was quenched in the dazzle of
the green fires which shot from her forehead, ears, and bosom, as
she moved.

Prince Paul of Kostroma and the Princess Nadejda followed; but on
reaching the table, the gentlemen took their seats at the head,
while the ladies marched down to the foot. Their seats were
determined by their relative rank, and woe to him who was so
ignorant or so absent-minded as to make a mistake! The servants
had been carefully trained in advance by the Grand Marshal; and
whoever took a place above his rank or importance found, when he
came to sit down, that his chair had miraculously disappeared,
or, not noticing the fact, seated himself absurdly and violently
upon the floor. The Prince at the head of the table, and the
Princess at the foot, with their nearest guests of equal rank, ate
from dishes of massive gold; the others from silver. As soon as
the last of the company had entered the hall, a crowd of jugglers,
tumblers, dwarfs, and Calmucks followed, crowding themselves into
the corners under the galleries, where they awaited the conclusion
of the banquet to display their tricks, and scolded and pummelled
each other in the mean time.

On one side of Prince Alexis the bear Mishka took his station. By
order of Prince Boris he had been kept from wine for several days,
and his small eyes were keener and hungrier than usual. As he rose
now and then, impatiently, and sat upon his hind legs, he formed a
curious contrast to the Prince's other supporter, the idiot, who
sat also in his tow-shirt, with a large pewter basin in his hand.
It was difficult to say whether the beast was most man or the man
most beast. They eyed each other and watched the motions of their
lord with equal jealousy; and the dismal whine of the bear found an
echo in the drawling, slavering laugh of the idiot. The Prince
glanced form one to the other; they put him in a capital humor,
which was not lessened as he perceived an expression of envy pass
over the face of Prince Paul.

The dinner commenced with a botvinia--something between a soup
and a salad--of wonderful composition. It contained cucumbers,
cherries, salt fish, melons, bread, salt, pepper, and wine.
While it was being served, four huge fishermen, dressed to
represent mermen of the Volga, naked to the waist, with hair
crowned with reeds, legs finned with silver tissue from the knees
downward, and preposterous scaly tails, which dragged helplessly
upon the floor, entered the hall, bearing a broad, shallow tank of
silver. In the tank flapped and swam four superb sterlets, their
ridgy backs rising out of the water like those of alligators.
Great applause welcomed this new and classical adaptation of the
old custom of showing the LIVING fish, before cooking them, to
the guests at the table. The invention was due to Simon
Petrovitch, and was (if the truth must be confessed) the result of
certain carefully measured supplies of brandy which Prince Boris
himself had carried to the imprisoned poet.

After the sterlets had melted away to their backbones, and the
roasted geese had shrunk into drumsticks and breastplates, and here
and there a guest's ears began to redden with more rapid blood,
Prince Alexis judged that the time for diversion had arrived. He
first filled up the idiot's basin with fragments of all the dishes
within his reach,--fish, stewed fruits, goose fat, bread, boiled
cabbage, and beer,--the idiot grinning with delight all the while,
and singing, "Ne uyesjai golubchik moi," (Don't go away, my
little pigeon), between the handfuls which he crammed into his
mouth. The guests roared with laughter, especially when a juggler
or Calmuck stole out from under the gallery, and pretended to have
designs upon the basin. Mishka, the bear, had also been well fed,
and greedily drank ripe old Malaga from the golden dish. But,
alas! he would not dance. Sitting up on his hind legs, with his
fore paws hanging before him, he cast a drunken, languishing eye
upon the company, lolled out his tongue, and whined with an almost
human voice. The domestics, secretly incited by the Grand Marshal,
exhausted their ingenuity in coaxing him, but in vain. Finally,
one of them took a goblet of wine in one hand, and, embracing
Mishka with the other, began to waltz. The bear stretched out his
paw and clumsily followed the movements, whirling round and round
after the enticing goblet. The orchestra struck up, and the
spectacle, though not exactly what Prince Alexis wished, was
comical enough to divert the company immensely.

But the close of the performance was not upon the programme. The
impatient bear, getting no nearer his goblet, hugged the man
violently with the other paw, striking his claws through the thin
shirt. The dance-measure was lost; the legs of the two tangled,
and they fell to the floor, the bear undermost. With a growl of
rage and disappointment, he brought his teeth together through the
man's arm, and it might have fared badly with the latter, had not
the goblet been refilled by some one and held to the animal's nose.

Then, releasing his hold, he sat up again, drank another bottle,
and staggered out of the hall.

Now the health of Prince Alexis was drunk,--by the guests on the
floor of the hall in Champagne, by those in the galleries in
kislischi and hydromel. The orchestra played; a choir of
serfs sang an ode by Simon Petrovitch, in which the departure of
Prince Boris was mentioned; the tumblers began to posture; the
jugglers came forth and played their tricks; and the cannon on the
ramparts announced to all Kinesma, and far up and down the Volga,
that the company were rising from the table.

Half an hour later, the great red slumber-flag floated over the
castle. All slept,--except the serf with the wounded arm, the
nervous Grand Marshal, and Simon Petrovich with his band of
dramatists, guarded by the indefatigable Sasha. All others
slept,--and the curious crowd outside, listening to the music,
stole silently away; down in Kinesma, the mothers ceased to scold
their children, and the merchants whispered to each other in the
bazaar; the captains of vessels floating on the Volga directed
their men by gestures; the mechanics laid aside hammer and axe, and
lighted their pipes. Great silence fell upon the land, and
continued unbroken so long as Prince Alexis and his guests slept
the sleep of the just and the tipsy.

By night, however, they were all awake and busily preparing for the
diversions of the evening. The ball-room was illuminated by
thousands of wax-lights, so connected with inflammable threads,
that the wicks could all be kindled in a moment. A pyramid of tar-
barrels had been erected on each side of the castle-gate, and every
hill or mound on the opposite bank of the Volga was similarly
crowned. When, to a stately march,--the musicians blowing their
loudest,--Prince Alexis and Princess Martha led the way to the
ball-room, the signal was given: candles and tar-barre]s burst
into flame, and not only within the castle, but over the landscape
for five or six versts, around everything was bright and clear in
the fiery day. Then the noises of Kinesma were not only permitted,
but encouraged. Mead and qvass flowed in the very streets, and
the castle trumpets could not be heard for the sound of troikas
and balalaikas.

After the Polonaise, and a few stately minuets, (copied from the
court of Elizabeth), the company were ushered into the theatre.
The hour of Simon Petrovitch had struck: with the inspiration
smuggled to him by Prince Boris, he had arranged a performance
which he felt to be his masterpiece. Anxiety as to its reception
kept him sober. The overture had ceased, the spectators were all
in their seats, and now the curtain rose. The background was a
growth of enormous, sickly toad-stools, supposed to be clouds. On
the stage stood a girl of eighteen, (the handsomest in Kinesma), in
hoops and satin petticoat, powdered hair, patches, and high-heeled
shoes. She held a fan in one hand, and a bunch of marigolds in the
other. After a deep and graceful curtsy to the company, she came
forward and said,--

"I am the goddess Venus. I have come to Olympus to ask some
questions of Jupiter."

Thunder was heard, and a car rolled upon the stage. Jupiter sat
therein, in a blue coat, yellow vest, ruffled shirt and three-
cornered hat. One hand held a bunch of thunderbolts, which he
occasionally lifted and shook; the other, a gold-headed cane.

"Here am, I Jupiter," said he; "what does Venus desire?"

A poetical dialogue then followed, to the effect that the favorite
of the goddess, Prince Alexis of Kinesma, was about sending his
son, Prince Boris, into the gay world, wherein himself had already
displayed all the gifts of all the divinities of Olympus. He
claimed from her, Venus, like favors for his son: was it possible
to grant them? Jupiter dropped his head and meditated. He could
not answer the question at once: Apollo, the Graces, and the Muses
must be consulted: there were few precedents where the son had
succeeded in rivalling the father,--yet the father's pious wishes
could not be overlooked.
Venus said,--

"What I asked for Prince Alexis was for HIS sake: what I ask for
the son is for the father's sake."

Jupiter shook his thunderbolt and called "Apollo!"

Instantly the stage was covered with explosive and coruscating
fires,--red, blue, and golden,--and amid smoke, and glare, and
fizzing noises, and strong chemical smells, Apollo dropped down
from above. He was accustomed to heat and smoke, being the cook's
assistant, and was sweated down to a weight capable of being
supported by the invisible wires. He wore a yellow caftan, and
wide blue silk trousers. His yellow hair was twisted around and
glued fast to gilded sticks, which stood out from his head in a
circle, and represented rays of light. He first bowed to Prince
Alexis, then to the guests, then to Jupiter, then to Venus. The
matter was explained to him.

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