The Preobrazsenski Regiment has the proud distinction of having deposed Czar Ivan and set Elisabeth in his place. Every man in the regiment received his patent of nobility.
The Ismailoffski Regiment bears on its colors the trophies of seven conclusive battles. At Borodino half the troops remained on the battle-field, and not a single man came home without a wound. These regiments compose the aristocracy of the Life Guards. The rest of the household troops, too, are characterized by a brilliant variety of dress. Hussars in uniforms of the most varied colors, cuirassiers, mounted grenadiers, pontoniers, Cossacks, Asiatic hordes with their fantastic arms, Kirgisians, Kalmucks with their slender spears, their arrow-laden quivers on their backs; Circassians in their scale-armor, with their pointed helmets; and then the long row of cannon, the ammunition wagons (painted green), the pontoons, the flotilla on wheels—and the whole mass drawn up on a boundless plain in squares, in geometrical lines, and advancing, charging, halting motionless as a wall, at the word of command, like a machine.
May he not rightly deem himself a god who with a gesture can set all this in motion or make it stand? And they only need a second gesture to charge and dye the ground beneath them with their blood.
When the household troops advance from St. Petersburg it means that the army is on a war footing and is taking the field. Then let every man concerned summon all his strength.
In the centre of the Field of Mars are pitched the sumptuous tents of the Czar, the foreign ambassadors, and the members of the government; but the Czar himself rides at the head of his suite, and passes the assembled troops in review. As he thus rides past the separate regiments they salute him with welcoming stanzas, in time like the chorus of a giant theatre, with rifle, sword, and lance held rigid at present arms. The Czar's face beams like a day in summer; every one sees again in him the hero of Leipsic. The inspiration of the army has communicated itself to him too.
And in the ranks of these men presenting at the word of command are all those who have been conspiring against him. In the sabretache of the officers is to be found the Catechism of the Free Man.
But the single word "Forward!" suffices to change the whole temper of these men; the conspiring regiments will charge down on the foe with shouts of "Long live the Czar!" When he shows them the battle-field they forget all their complaints and grievances—forget that they are seeking to kill him—and rush into the fight to give up their lives for him.
So it is with the Russian people. Their striving after freedom is silenced when there is hope of war. The private, freely shedding his blood on foreign soil, believes that therewith he will fertilize his native meadows. The priests have indoctrinated him with the belief that he who falls in a strange land to the enemy's bayonet will live again in his own country, where he will find parents, wife, and children once more; and, if he was a serf before, will rise again a free man.
After the review of the troops the Czar himself takes the command, and a series of brilliant manœuvres begins, thought out by himself. According to the then science of war, they were intended to be a masterpiece of the system of attack in close order. His aides-de-camp are dashing from battalion to battalion with orders, their spirited horses flying off in all directions. The orders are given by the Czar himself, who watches their fulfilment through a field-glass. Suddenly an adjutant dashes up to him.
"Sire!"