"My soul I give to God;
My head I give the Czar;
My body beneath my master's feet;
The grave is all I call my own!"
Within the last four years especially the iron hand of adversity had pressed heavily on the country. The earth no longer gave back the seed sown upon it; terrific fires had reduced the large cities to ashes; and a pestilence, hitherto unknown in the land, had crept over the frontier and devastated the population. The streams and rivulets had become floods, carrying away whole towns at a moment's notice; locusts, caterpillars of a kind and species never seen before, came down in shoals, tormenting man and beast; great war-ships out at sea sank with all their men and ammunition on board.
And all this was Heaven's retribution because the Czar had not gone to the assistance of the Greeks fighting for their freedom. Against miracles, counter-miracles alone can be effectual.
And the present century had produced a miracle in the form of a man: his name, Napoleon.
It was all a lie that the English had taken him prisoner at Waterloo! All a lie that he was being kept in confinement on the island of St. Helena! He was in hiding, though the whereabouts must not at present be divulged. Where was that place? Only so much might be known, that it was somewhere in the neighborhood of Irkutsk. Thence he would come, as soon as the people's cup of bitterness was filled to the brim, to tread down the mighty, and free every people under the sun.
This rumor was extensively circulated everywhere. Among the conspirators of the Bear's Paw was a plaster-modeller (our "Canova") who, single-handed, sent out of his workshop over two hundred thousand busts of Napoleon. These busts were worshipped by the mujiks as if they were pictures of saints; they took the place of the crucifix to them. He was the deliverer, before whom the mujik and his family bent the knee; he would bring them relief from all their troubles.
Even at the present time these plaster casts are to be seen in many a Russian peasant's hut: the well-known form, cocked hat, arms crossed upon the breast, in overcoat or short-waisted military tunic. Forty years after his death they still awaited his coming.
Hence the words "Only wait till Napoleon comes!" were a cry which spread through the land.
The people only remembered that twelve years before, when Napoleon really did come, their masters were terribly frightened, and so merciful to the peasants. How fast they cleared out, leaving their castles as booty behind! and money then was as plentiful as blackberries. No price was high enough for corn and oats. And such brilliant promises were scattered about in all directions. The mujik was led to expect everything under heaven and earth; but his expectations were never realized. So let Napoleon come again!
And to hasten this was the plan of the leader of the Bear's Paw party.