Michael Strogoff; or the Courier of the Czar Page 3

  The purely Mongolian race comprises the Mongols, Manchoux, and Thibetans.

  The Tartars, who now threatened the Russian Empire, belonged to the Caucasian race, and occupied Turkestan. This immense country is divided into different states, governed by Khans, and hence termed Khanats. The principal khanats are those of Bokhara, Khokhand, Koondooz, etc.

  At this period, the most important and the most formidable khanat was that of Bokhara. Russia had already been several times at war with its chiefs, who, for their own interests, had supported the independence of the Kirghiz against the Muscovite dominion. The present chief, Feofar-Khan, followed in the steps of his predecessors.

  The khanat of Bokhara extends from north to south, between the thirty-seventh and forty-first parallels, and from east to west between the sixty-first and sixty-sixth degrees of longitude, that is to say, over a space of nearly ten thousand square leagues.

  This state has a population of two million five hundred thousand inhabitants, an army of sixty thousand men, trebled in time of war, and thirty thousand horsemen. It is a rich country, with various animal, vegetable, and mineral productions, and has been increased by the accession of the territories of Balkh, Aukoï, and Meïmaneh. It possesses nineteen large towns. Bokhara, surrounded by a wall measuring more than eight English miles, and flanked with towers, a glorious city, made illustrious by Avicenna and other learned men of the tenth century, is regarded as the centre of Mussulman science, and ranks among the most celebrated cities of Central Asia. Samarcand, which contains the tomb of Tamerlane and the famous palace where the blue stone is kept on which each new kahn must seat himself on his accession, is defended by a very strong citadel. Karschi, with its triple cordon, situated in an oasis, surrounded by a marsh peopled with tortoises and lizards, is almost impregnable. Is-chardjoui is defended by a population of nearly twenty thousand souls. In short, Katta-Kourgan, Nourata, Djizah, Païkande, Karakoul, Khouzar, etc., form a collection of towns of an almost impregnable character. Protected by its mountains, and isolated by its steppes, the khanat of Bokhara is a most formidable state; and Russia would need a large force to subdue it.

  The fierce and ambitious Feofar now governed this corner of Tartary. Relying on the other khans—principally those of Khokhand and Koondooz, cruel and rapacious warriors, all ready to join an enterprise so dear to Tartar instincts—aided by the chiefs who ruled all the hordes of Central Asia, he had placed himself at the head of the rebellion of which Ivan Ogareff was the instigator. This traitor, impelled by insane ambition as much as by hate, had ordered the movement so as to intercept the route to Siberia. Mad indeed he was, if he hoped to attack the Muscovite Empire. Acting under his suggestion, the Emir—which is the title taken by the khans of Bokhara—had poured his hordes over the Russian frontier. He invaded the government of Semipolatinsk, and the Cossacks, who were only in small force there, had been obliged to retire before him. He had advanced farther than Lake Balkhash, gaining over the Kirghiz population in his way. Pillaging, ravaging, enrolling those who submitted, taking prisoners those who resisted, he marched from one town to another, followed by those impedimenta of Oriental sovereignty which may be called his household, his wives and his slaves—all with the cool audacity of a modern Ghengis-Khan. It was impossible to ascertain where he now was; how far his soldiers had marched before the news of the rebellion reached Moscow; or to what part of Siberia the Russian troops had been forced to retire. All communication was interrupted. Had the wire between Kalyvan and Tomsk been cut by Tartar scouts, or had the Emir himself arrived at the Yeniseisk provinces? Was all the lower part of Western Siberia in a ferment? Had the rebellion already spread to the eastern regions? No one could say. The only agent which fears neither cold nor heat, which can neither be stopped by the rigours of winter nor the heat of summer, and which flies with the rapidity of lightning—the electric current—was prevented from traversing the steppes, and it was no longer possible to warn the Grand Duke, shut up in Irkutsk, of the danger threatening him from the treason of Ivan Ogareff.

  A courier only could supply the place of the interrupted current. It would take this man some time to traverse the five thousand two hundred versts between Moscow and Irkutsk. To pass the ranks of the rebels and invaders he must display almost superhuman courage and intelligence. But with a clear head and a firm heart much can be done.

  “Shall I be able to find this head and heart?” thought the Czar.

  * The verst contains 1165 yards.

  † The rouble (silver) is worth 3s, 2d. The copeck (copper) rather more than a farthing.

  CHAPTER III.

  MICHAEL STROGOFF INTRODUCED TO THE CZAR.

  THE door of the imperial cabinet was again opened and General Kissoff was announced.

  “The courier?” inquired the Czar eagerly.

  “He is here, sire,” replied General Kissoff.

  “Have you found a fitting man?”

  “I will answer for him to your majesty.”

  “Has he been in the service of the Palace?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “You know him?”

  “Personally, and at various times he has fulfilled difficult missions with success.”

  “Abroad?”

  “In Siberia itself.”

  “Where does he come from?”

  “From Omsk. He is a Siberian.”

  “Has he coolness, intelligence, courage?”

  “Yes, sire; he has all the qualities necessary to succeed, even where others might possibly fail.”

  “What is his age?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Is he strong and vigorous?”

  “Sire, he can bear cold, hunger, thirst, fatigue, to the very last extremities.”

  “He must have a frame of iron.”

  “Sire, he has.”

  “And a heart?”

  “A heart of gold.”

  “His name?”

  “Michael Strogoff.

  “Is he ready to set out?”

  “He awaits your majesty’s orders in the guard-room.”

  “Let him come in,” said the Czar.

  “In a few moments Michael Strogoff, the courier, entered the imperial library.

  Michael Strogoff was a tall, vigorous, broad-shouldered, deep-chested man. His powerful head possessed the fine features of the Caucasian race. His well-knit frame seemed built for the performance of feats of strength. It would have been a difficult task to move such a man against his will, for when his feet were once planted on the ground, it was as if they had taken root. As he doffed his Muscovite cap, locks of thick curly hair fell over his broad, massive forehead. When his ordinarily pale face became at all flushed, it arose solely from a more rapid action of the heart, under the influence of a quicker circulation. His eyes, of a deep blue, looked with clear, frank, firm gaze. The slightly-contracted eyebrows indicated lofty heroism—“the hero’s cool courage,” according to the definition of the physiologist. He possessed a fine nose, with large nostrils; and a well-shaped mouth, with the slightly-projecting lips which denote a generous and noble heart.

  Michael Strogoff had the temperament of the man of action, who does not bite his nails or scratch his head in doubt and indecision. Sparing of gestures as of words, he always stood motionless like a soldier before his superior; but when he moved, his step showed a firmness, a freedom of movement, which proved the confidence and vivacity of his mind.

  Michael Strogoff wore a handsome military uniform, something resembling that of a light-cavalry officer in the field—boots, spurs, half tightly-fitting trousers, brown pelisse, trimmed with fur and ornamented with yellow braid. On his breast glittered a cross and several medals.

  Michael Strogoff belonged to the special corps of the Czar’s couriers, ranking as an officer among those picked men. His most discernible characteristic—particularly in his walk, his face, in the whole man, and which the Czar perceived at a glance—was, that he was “a fulfiller of orders.” He therefore possessed one of th
e most serviceable qualities in Russia—one which, as the celebrated novelist Tourgueneff says, “will lead to the highest positions in the Muscovite empire.”

  In short, if any one could accomplish this journey from Moscow to Irkutsk, across a rebellious country, surmount obstacles, and brave perils of all sorts, Michael Strogoff was the man.

  A circumstance especially favourable to the success of his plans was, that he was thoroughly acquainted with the country which he was about to traverse, and understood its different dialects—not only from having travelled there before, but because he was of Siberian origin.

  His father—old Peter Strogoff, dead ten years since—inhabited the town of Omsk, situated in the government of the same name; and his mother, Marfa Strogoff, lived there still. There, amid the wild steppes of the provinces of Omsk and Tobolsk, had the famous huntsman brought up his son Michael to endure hardship. Peter Strogoff was a huntsman by profession. Summer and winter—in the burning heat, as well as when the cold was sometimes fifty degrees below zero—he scoured the frozen plains, the thickets of birch and larch, the pine forests; setting traps; watching for small game with his gun, and for large game with the spear or knife. The large game was nothing less than the Siberian bear, a formidable and ferocious animal, in size equalling its fellow of the frozen seas. Peter Strogoff had killed more than thirty-nine bears—that is to say, the fortieth had fallen under his blows; and, according to Russian legends, most huntsmen who have been lucky enough up to the thirty-ninth bear, have succumbed to the fortieth.

  Peter Strogoff had, however passed the fatal number without even a scratch. From that time, his son Michael, aged eleven years, never failed to accompany him to the hunt, carrying the ragatina, or spear, ready to come to the aid of his father, who was armed only with the knife. When he was fourteen, Michael Strogoff had killed his first bear, quite alone—that was nothing; but after stripping it he dragged the gigantic animal’s skin to his father’s house, many versts distant, thus exhibiting remarkable strength in a boy so young.

  This style of life was of great benefit to him, and when he arrived at manhood he could bear any amount of cold, heat, hunger, thirst, or fatigue. Like the Yakout of the northern countries, he was made of iron. He could go four-and-twenty hours without eating, ten nights without sleeping, and could make himself a shelter in the open steppe where others would have been frozen to death. Gifted with marvellous acuteness, guided by the instinct of the Delaware of North America, over the white plain, when every object is hidden in mist, or even in higher latitudes, where the polar night is prolonged for many days, he could find his way when others would have had no idea whether to direct their steps. All his father’s secrets were known to him. He had learnt to read almost imperceptible signs—the forms of icicles, the appearance of the small branches of trees, mists rising far away in the horizon, vague sounds in the air, distant reports, the flight of birds through the foggy atmosphere, a thousand circumstances which are so many words to those who can decipher them. Moreover, tempered by snow like a Damascus blade in the waters of Syria, he had a frame of iron, as General Kissoff had said, and, what was no less true, a heart of gold.

  The only sentiment of love felt by Michael Strogoff was that which he entertained for his mother, the aged Marfa, who could never be induced to leave the house of the Strogoffs, at Omsk, on the banks of the Irtish, where the old huntsman and she had lived so long together. When her son left her. he went away with a full heart, but promising to come and see her whenever he could possibly do so; and this promise he had always religiously kept.

  When Michael was twenty, it was decided that he should enter the personal service of the Emperor of Russia, in the corps of the couriers of the Czar. The hardy, intelligent, zealous, well-conducted young Siberian first distinguished himself especially, in a journey to the Caucasus, through the midst of a difficult country, ravaged by some restless successors of Schamyl; then later, in an important mission to Petropolowski, in Kamtschatka, the extreme limit of Asiatic Russia. During these long journeys he displayed such marvellous coolness, prudence, and courage, as to gain him the approbation and protection of his chiefs, who rapidly advanced him in his profession.

  The furloughs which were his due after these distant missions, although he might be separated from her by thousands of versts, and winter had rendered the roads almost impassable, he never failed to devote to his old mother. Having been much employed in the south of the empire, he had not seen old Marfa for three years—three ages!—the first time in his life he had been so long absent from her. Now, however, in a few days he would obtain his furlough, and he had accordingly already made preparations for departure for Omsk, when the events which have been related occurred. Michael Strogoff was therefore introduced into the Czar’s presence in complete ignorance of what the emperor expected from him.

  The Czar fixed a penetrating look upon him without uttering a word, whilst Michael stood perfectly motionless.

  The Czar, apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, went to his bureau, and, motioning to the chief of police to seat himself, dictated in a low voice a letter of not more than a few lines.

  The letter penned, the Czar re-read it attentively, then signed it, preceding his name with the words “Byt po sémou,” which, signifying “So be it,” constitutes the decisive formula of the Russian emperors.

  The letter was then placed in an envelope, which was sealed with the imperial arms.

  The Czar, rising, told Michael Strogoff to draw near.

  Michael advanced a few steps, and then stood motionless, ready to answer.

  The Czar again looked him full in the face and their eyes met. Then in an abrupt tone:

  “Thy name?” he asked.

  “Michael Strogoff, sire.”

  “Thy rank?”

  “Captain in the corps of couriers of the Czar”

  “Thou dost know Siberia?”

  “I am a Siberian.”

  “A native of . . . . ?”

  “Omsk, sire.”

  “Hast thou relations there?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “What relations?”

  “My old mother.”

  The Czar suspended his questions for a moment Then, pointing to the letter which he held in his hand:

  “Here is a letter which I charge thee, Michael Strogoff, to deliver into the hands of the Grand Duke, and to no other but him.”

  “I will deliver it, sire.”

  “The Grand Duke is at Irkutsk.”

  “I will go to Irkutsk.”

  “Thou wilt have to traverse a rebellious country, invaded by Tartars, whose interest it will be to intercept this letter.”

  “I will traverse it.”

  “Above all, beware of the traitor, Ivan Ogareff, who will perhaps meet thee on the way.”

  “I will beware of him.”

  “Wilt thou pass through Omsk?”

  “Sire, that is my route.”

  “If thou dost see thy mother, there will be the risk of being recognized. Thou must not see her!”

  Michael Strogoff hesitated a moment

  “I will not see her,” said he.

  “Swear to me that nothing will make thee acknowledge who thou art, nor whither thou art going.”

  “I swear it”

  “Michael Strogoff,” continued the Czar, giving the letter to the young courier, “take this letter; on it depends the safety of all Siberia, and perhaps the life of my brother the Grand Duke.”

  “This letter shall be delivered to his Highness the Grand Duke.”

  “Then thou wilt pass whatever happens?”

  “I shall pass, or they shall kill me.”

  “I want thee to live.”

  “I shall live, and I shall pass,” answered Michael Strogoff.

  The Czar appeared satisfied with Strogoff’s calm and simple answer.

  “Go then, Michael Strogoff,” said he, “go for God, for Russia, for my brother, and for myself!”

  The courier, ha
ving saluted his sovereign, immediately left the imperial cabinet, and, in a few minutes, the New Palace.

  “You made a good choice there, General,” said the Czar.

  “I think so, sire,” replied General Kissoff; “and your majesty may be sure that Michael Strogoff will do all that a man can do.”

  “He is indeed a man,” said the Czar.

  CHAPTER IV.

  FROM MOSCOW TO NIJNI-NOVGOROD.

  THE distance between Moscow and Irkutsk, about to be traversed by Michael Strogoff, was five thousand two hundred versts. Before the telegraph wire extended from the Ural Mountains to the eastern frontier of Siberia, the despatch service was performed by couriers, those who travelled the most rapidly taking eighteen days to get from Moscow to Irkutsk. But this was the exception, and the journey through Asiatic Russia usually occupied from four to five weeks, even though every available means of transport was placed at the disposal of the Czar’s messengers.

  Michael Strogoff was a man who feared neither frost nor snow. He would have preferred travelling during the severe winter season, in order that he might perform the whole distance by sleighs. At that period of the year the difficulties which all other means of locomotion present are greatly diminished, the wide steppes being levelled by snow. While there are no rivers to cross, but simply sheets of glass, over which the sleigh glides rapidly and easily.

  Perhaps certain natural phenomena are most to be feared at that time, such as long-continuing and dense fogs, excessive cold, fearfully heavy snow-storms, which sometimes envelop whole caravans and cause their destruction. Hungry wolves also roam over the plain in thousands. But it would have been better for Michael Strogoff to face these risks; for during the winter the Tartar invaders would have been stationed in the towns, their marauding bands would not be overrunning the steppes, any movement of the troops would have been impracticable, and he could consequently have more easily performed his journey. But it was not in his power to choose either his own weather or his own time. Whatever were the circumstances, he must accept them and set out.