THE WEDDING PRESENT
As Alexander had said, so it was. His health was in close sympathy with
that of his daughter. With the return of color to her cheeks his spirits
revived. Once more he busied himself with affairs of state. In his study
were whole piles of unsigned papers from various departments and of
letters through the "St. Sophie" post-box. He set to work upon them, and
the mountain of papers was soon hugely diminished. The Sophien-post was
a singular institution of Alexander's. In Czarskoje Zelo was an office
where any one might give in letters to be delivered direct to the Czar.
The official demanded ten rubles a letter, but asked no questions either
as to the writer or its contents, whether of complaint, petition,
accusation, calumniation of those in office, or favorable mention, or
schemes for a new constitution of the empire. One hour later it was in
the Czar's hands were he in St. Petersburg, or was sent after him if he
were travelling.
The surest sign of his improvement in health and spirits was that he
ceased to tear through the streets at night, and supped on the first
holiday evening with the Czarina, having decided to communicate the
happy tidings to her. Elisabeth was the first to hear it. The Patriarch
himself had only been informed that on the 21st of June he was to be at
the late Czar Peter's residence on Petrowsky Island, where he would find
a young couple waiting to be married.
Meanwhile, every petition addressed to the Czar's clemency was being
granted. Exiles were allowed to come home, political prisoners released
from prison.
It was not in vain that Pushkin had sacrificed his love. His tenderness
charmed back to Sophie's lips the smile of happiness which is so
delusively like that of health. And that smile charmed a bright,
cloudless sky over the whole empire. When he came, punctual to the
minute, with his bouquets of flowers, and, with some pretty compliment
about the improved looks of the girl hurrying to meet him, would sit
down beside her and begin telling her the news, Pushkin was making the
happiness of an empire. Or did he ask about her last night's dreams and
tell their meaning; or play cards with her, letting her win and himself
be laughed at; or read poems and romances to her; bring her the first
hothouse fruit or delicate bonbons; watch her somewhat inartistic
attempts at drawing and painting, oft stealing a kiss the while, and
getting his hair pulled for it--then a whole empire was in sunshine!
This even the unfortunates on the far-off Baikal Lake, who break stones
in Bleiberg mines, experienced; for every kiss pressed on Sophie's brow
the fetters on a pair of hands were loosed.
The Czar, who purposely came to her late, after Pushkin had gone, always
found her luxuriating in bliss. Her talk would be all of Pushkin, and of
all he had told her.
Sometimes they talked about politics. Sophie induced Pushkin to confess
what was the exact object of the secret society she had heard about.
And, like an engaged man should, Pushkin candidly told her that what
they wanted was a parliamentary constitution; that among them there was
many a man who could speak as well as the members of the English House
of Commons, and who ought to have the right to be heard. The government
would then find a majority composed of Tartars, Kirghis, Kalmucks,
Jakutes, Bashkir, and Finnish deputies, who would outvote the Russian
revolutionists, and the country would be tranquillized. That parliament
should have the control of the exchequer, so that in the case of a
minister peculating he might be sent about his business, and, at least,
give others the chance to do the same. Freedom of the press was also
necessary, so that they might go to loggerheads among themselves instead
of growling in an undertone. That was what they hoped to arrive at. The
Czar was infinitely amused when he heard of it all, taking it very
differently from what he did when Araktseieff told him the same things.
People began to think that the good times were coming back. Some ten
years ago they had ventured to talk of constitutional liberty in
presence of the Czar, and the meetings of free masonic lodges were
openly announced in the daily papers.
The improvement in Sophie's health deceived even the doctors; the bad
symptoms had entirely disappeared. Miracles do happen sometimes! The
power of nature is inexhaustible! Preparations for the wedding began in
earnest. The Czar had the bride's trousseau, including the pink-silk
gown and platinum diadem, sent from Paris, and had the satisfaction of
revelling in Sophie's radiant face on seeing all the lovely things.
One day the Czar said to Pushkin:
"My son, if God permits us to live to that happy day, which will also be
a turning-point in my life, what shall I give you for a wedding
present?"
And Pushkin, falling on his knees, said:
"Father, on that day give your subjects a constitution."
The Czar was silent. This gave Pushkin courage to continue.
"Your Majesty, the whole world is in a state of ferment, and preparing
for eruption, like Vesuvius. The volcanic eruption can be avoided by a
roll of paper inscribed with the single word 'Charta'! Not I alone, but
your whole country, every honest man, every patriot, every one about the
throne, thinks and says the same. Do not grant us immediate freedom, do
not remodel our country on foreign lines; but lead your people
gradually, step by step, towards freedom; suffer the constitution to be
shaped according to the habits and needs of your people. But do away
with serfdom! Banish Araktseieff, who stands like an evil genius between
you and the people. Take the education of the masses out of the hands of
the Sacred Synod, and restore it to Galitzin. Call the notables of the
land to your throne-room, and command them to speak out candidly to you.
Do away with the censorship, and grant permission to every man to
publish his thoughts to the light of day; dismiss the dishonest
stewards, who are robbing you and the country. Annul the military
colonies, which are a very pest of oppression in the land; summon the
old regiments, give them back their standards, unite them in a camp, put
us at their head, and send us to the rescue of our Greek brothers in
arms, who are drowning in a sea of their own blood. You will see what a
nation is capable of when, in possession of freedom herself, she is
fighting for the independence of other nations--how she would rise above
all others! Oh, give us freedom, and we will give you glory!"
The Czar listened to the end, then said:
"Rise! I forgive you your audacious words!"
* * * * *
Some day later Araktseieff set off, very quietly, for his country
estate, Grusino. It was whispered that, at his own request, he had been
granted a long leave of absence. His departure was emphasized the more
by Prince Ghedimin being chosen as his successor. He was now among the
confidential _entourage_ of the Czar, who might approach him, at any
hour, without being announced.
More still took place. Magriczki, the most detested member of the
Council of Enlightenment, was dismissed, and younger censors were
appointed instead of the old ones. It was also known that the Russian
Ambassador at the Porte had received instructions to energetically
promote a more humane system of warfare against the Greeks in their War
of Independence. It was also decided to form a camp instantly in the
vicinity of Bender.
Finally--clear sign of a new epoch--all the regiments of the guards were
recalled from the military colonies and concentrated in St. Petersburg.
These events filled the apostles of freedom with new hopes. The Secret
Society of the North decided, on these lines, to support the Czar by all
the means in their power, although the leaders of that society were not
misled. Pestel sent word to Ghedimin: "It is all a comedy! They want to
make fools of us; the whole business will only last three months. I
shall stick to my plan!" But the Bear's Paw by degrees lost all its
associates, and the sole use Jakuskin found for his knife at that time
was to pick his teeth with.
Pushkin, meanwhile, devoted himself completely to his duties as
bridegroom and to versifying. He wrote a charming poem under the title
of _The Spring of Baktshisseraj_, which he read aloud first to Sophie.
And the milder censorship made its publication easy.
When the Czar was informed that the poem had been submitted to the
Censor--of course such an event had to be notified to the Czar--he said
to Pushkin:
"I advise you to dedicate your poem to a certain lady."
"To my betrothed?"
"No. To the Princess Ghedimin."
Pushkin understood the hint. It was desirable in some manner to pay
court to Sophie's mother. This was the most natural way.
The Czar added:
"When you take her your poem, tell her that on the 21st of June you will
celebrate your marriage with Sophie Narishkin."
That, too, was quite _en règle_. Pushkin needed no explanation. The
bridegroom-elect must himself take Korynthia the tidings of Sophie
Narishkin's approaching marriage, and receive from her the kiss of
consent. The wooing and consent would be expressed in the form of the
dedication of the poem and its acceptance. The form was delicate, yet
expressive. Both think differently and speak differently; it was a
wooing under poetical guise.
Pushkin was quite up to the proprieties in first seeking out Prince
Ghedimin.
"Ivan Maximovitch, I have written a new poem, which I should greatly
like to dedicate to the Princess Maria Alexievna Korynthia. May I beg
you to read it, and if you deem it worthy of the honor of bearing the
Princess's name to be my advocate with her?"
"I will read your verses with pleasure, and may venture to tell you
beforehand that the Princess will esteem your dedication as a great
distinction, and will be proud to read her name in print on any work of
yours."
And Pushkin, that same day, received a note from the Prince telling him
that the Princess would receive him the next day at seven o'clock in her
summer palace on Neva Island.
The great heat prevented people going out earlier. The St. Petersburg
world of fashion had already repaired to their villas. Even the rich
burgher lived in Neva Island on his "dotcha." The Czar had accompanied
Elisabeth and her court to her favorite castle "Monplaisir," in the
vicinity of which was Sophie's dwelling.
The Czar could now visit her very seldom, for in June the nights are not
dark in St. Petersburg. But she had her lover to keep watch over her.
But one short week separated them from the wedding.