by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XXVII
PANACEA
Great natural calamities often have a softening effect upon excitedmasses.
The "great power," the people, and the "little master," the Emperor,made friends again in the general distress.
The storm of November, 1824, had been a universal calamity. Historyknows no other so wide-spreading in its devastating effects. Not onlydid it lay St. Petersburg in ruins, but it raged throughout Asia andinundated the shores of California. Sailors saw the clear sea inmid-ocean thick with mud and slime; from India to Syria flourishingtowns were laid in the dust by earthquakes; volcanoes burst forth in theGreek Archipelago; in Germany many springs were dried up. The wholeworld was in a state of upheaval. It was no time to think ofrevolutions.
Political secret societies changed themselves into philanthropic union.Party spirit died out. The poor went unhesitatingly to claim relieffrom the rich, and the doors of the rich were ungrudgingly opened tothem. The incitements of the "Irreconcilables" found no fruitful ground.Prince Ghedimin and Araktseieff vied with each other in their efforts torelieve the distress of the people. Each impartially scattered hishundred thousand of rubles abroad: the one forgetting that his aim hadbeen to free, the other to oppress, the people. The people now were inneed of neither sword nor chains--only of bread.
Nor were the ladies of St. Petersburg backward in relieving the distresscaused by the inundations. Princess Ghedimin presented her diamonds tothe committee, the sale of which brought them in thirty thousand rubles,while Zeneida gave a concert at the Exchange for the sufferers, thetickets for which sold for enormous prices, and which realized fortythousand rubles. Prince Ghedimin presented his wife with diamonds doublethe value of those she had given away. Zeneida received a wreath oflaurel from the _jeunesse doree_ of St. Petersburg and an ode fromPushkin. Thus once more had Korynthia lost the game, and her adversaryhad triumphed.
Those days of tribulation had made the Czar more reserved than ever. Hismelancholy had dated from the day on which he had witnessed the burningof Moscow, his capital; and now it had been his fate to witness the ruinof his second capital. One had been destroyed by fire, the other bywater. Waking and sleeping, the dread visions were before him.
But the saddest sight to him of all was that pale child's face, to whichnothing brought animation. One day he said to Sir James Wylie:
"It is vain to try and cure me; my sickness lies within, not without.Cure Sophie, and I shall be cured."
The physician was silent.
"Tell me frankly. Have you no hope?"
"None."
"Has your medical skill absolutely no panacea, no remedy to preserve aprecious life to us--no remedy which day by day might arrest Deathhovering on the threshold, and so prolong that dear life from spring toautumn?"
"Yes, there is such a remedy, sire! But it does not grow amonghealth-giving herbs of India. In illnesses such as these the spirits ofthe patient are the most important factor. Sorrow, grief, and carehasten the catastrophe, while cheerfulness, an equable temperament, joy,and hope delay it. The love of life renews life."
"Humph! How am I to give her joy, hope, and love of life when I have notgot them myself?"
A day came which brought joy to the Czar.
His Governor in the Urals announced to him the discovery of new depositsof gold and platinum, with promise of abundant mining. He sent aspecimen of the platinum that had been found. A truly valuablediscovery!
At the same time arrived a report from the Governor of Jekaterinograd,notifying the discovery in the great desert of a species of beetle whichfed on the exuberant knot-grass (_poligonum_) of those parts, a uselessplant and one impossible to extirpate. The beetle in question, known inthe learned tongue as _Coccus polonorum_, is identical with thecochineal, and affords the most beautiful purple and pink dye. He sentthe Czar, as a sample, a piece of rose-colored silk dyed with the purpleof the native beetle.
This was a greater treasure even than gold and platinum; it grows like aweed, gives no trouble, and will support the inhabitants of thoseinhospitable steppes.
But the third consignment was the most interesting. The Governor of theAmurs sent from Siberia a cask of wine grown in the Amur country. Thisis a still greater treasure than gold or bread, for it implies atriumph--a triumph in the face of the whole world, which proclaimsSiberia to be a frozen hell! See! this wine contradicts it! It is moresparkling than champagne, sweeter than Tokay--at least, one must pretendthat it is. Siberia can grow wine! Henceforth every Russian must drinkit. Siberian wine must supplant foreign wines for the tables of thegreat; it must compete with Burgundy, the Rhine, and the Hegyalji. To beexiled to Siberia will no longer count as a punishment; those in searchof fruitful soil will settle there of their own free-will. Siberia cangrow wine! If any one doubts the future of that country, who would arguewith him now? One gives him a glass and fills it. "Try this; this isSiberian wine!"
The Czar was as happy as a child! He still had one joy left.
And he hurried off, on the strength of it, to the Petrowsky Gardenhouse. He had the platinum, the silk, and the cask of wine brought afterhim, thinking that what gladdened him must also gladden Sophie. The poorchild was looking very pale; she was not allowed to go out at all in thewinter; the cold air out-of-doors was rapid poison to her; the heatedair within-doors slow poison. A strange country, where the invalidcannot even love his home! He hates the sky which kills him and theearth which keeps him bound. It is the survival of the fittest; if a manbe strong enough to enjoy a winter in Russia he thrives; if not, hedies.
In every Russian lady's drawing-room is a special corner fitted upcalled the "Altana."
It is a space surrounded by a little railing grown with ivy andcontaining a bower of Southern plants and flowers which, during the longnine months of winter, thrive and blossom in the artificial light andwarmth of lamps and stove, and make one forget the rigorous weatheroutside.
Alexander had had such a fragrant orange grove fitted up for Sophie whenthe house had been put in order for her after the inundation. He had notbeen to see her since the court gardener had carried out hisinstructions; perhaps it had given her pleasure.
Alas! nothing gave her pleasure.
The Czar asked, "What is amiss with you, my darling?"
"An unspeakable sorrow."
To cheer her, he showed her the treasures he had brought with him--theore, silk, and wine. But her face did not brighten, she did not smile.To his good news she had but "How nice! how fortunate! Oh, thank you!"to say.
"Come, tell me, what is amiss with you? There is something more thanbodily illness; it is mental trouble. Tell me, what is grieving you? Towhom should you tell it if not to me? Who shall place confidence in meif you do not feel it?"
Then, throwing her arms round her father's neck, and drawing his headdown to her, Sophie whispered, very low:
"It is love!"
Then, drawing back with abrupt movement, she buried her face in herhands.
Astonished, the Czar asked, "But where can you have met any one to fallin love with?"
"The flood brought us together."
"And who is the man?"
"If you speak so angrily I shall not dare to tell you."
"It is not anger but excitement that made me speak so sharply. He whomyou love is forgiven everything."
"Really? You do not forbid me to love somebody?"
"If only he is worthy of you. What is his rank?"
"An officer of the Body Guard."
"I will give him a regiment and make him a prince, so that he may askyou in marriage."
"Let me kiss you for that! But do not give him anything, father. Let himremain as he is; I love him for what he is now, and want him always toremain the same. He is more than a prince, more than a general! Higherfar than they--"
"Who is it, then?"
"Well, Aleko."
"What Aleko?"
"Oh! do you not know his name? Then stoop down and I will whisper it inyour ear."
&nbs
p; The Czar drew her to him.
"Would you like to be his wife?"
For all answer the girl looked at him with eyes opened wide and radiantexpression.
"Would you like to be his wife?"
"What else could I desire? Poor little foundling as I am, I should behappy indeed to have such a prospect. And we would be so happy together.Aleko would not murder me for my faithlessness. But how can we let himknow? So far, he has not had permission to come here."
"From this time forth he shall."
"But who can tell him?"
"I, myself. I will bring him to you."
"You are as good a father as in one of Bethsaba's fairy tales."
"I will see myself to all the preparations, will arrange your dowry,settle the day, and command the Patriarch of Solowetshk here tocelebrate the marriage."
"Oh yes, in summer, when the roses are out. My bridal wreath shall be ofreal roses."
"I will have your wedding ornaments made from this nugget of platinum.And now you really are as happy as I am, are you not?"
"Oh, happier!"
"And will you have this pink silk for your wedding-dress?"
"You have just guessed my wish--that my wedding-dress should be pink.White makes one look pale, and I am pale enough without that."
"This wine from the Amur we will drink at your wedding-breakfast."
"And I too will taste it. We will drink to each other. 'As many drops inthis goblet, so many years our love shall last!' Is not that thesaying?"
"Then you shall take up your residence on his estate. How strange that Ishould have just given him back his confiscated property! He shall havehis ancestral castle put in order for you to live in, and I will comeand visit you constantly."
Sophie clapped her hands with delight, her pale cheeks aglow. Thensuddenly the light in her eyes died away.
"But is all this only joking?"
"Joking? Do I ever joke with you?"
"That Aleko should pay court to me, that you should give me to him forwife, that the Patriarch should marry us on a lovely day in the lovelymonth of roses. Is it not all a dream?"
Alexander, instead of answering, took her in his arms and closed hermouth with kisses.
Yes, poor child, it is real. The only unreal part of it is that beforethose roses shall have blossomed you will be--
Alexander commanded Pushkin to his presence that day, and made shortwork of the matter.
"You have caused a young girl to fall in love with you. You must marryher. Her name is Sophie Narishkin. Wait upon me to-morrow evening at sixo'clock. I will take you to her, that you may formally ask her hand. Youwill then visit her daily, and see that you endeavor to cause her nosorrow. Her life hangs on the slightest thread; that thread is in yourhands. Beware that you are not the cause of her death."
Pushkin was in a very awkward situation.
The hand of the Czar's favorite daughter was offered him--to him, theconspirator, the Constitutionalist, the sworn enemy of the tyrannicalCzar. He was to ask a girl in marriage who was in love with him, whom hepitied and admired but did not love. That girl's life hung on the hopeof becoming his wife; with the extinction of that hope the feeble sparkof life within her would be extinguished. Merely to breathe "I do notlove you" would suffice to kill her. And what made his position the moredifficult was the circumstance that at Sophie's he would be constantlymeeting that other girl whom he looked upon as his betrothed, Sophie'sonly friend, Bethsaba, to whom he had given his whole soul. Two heartsto be thus stricken and betrayed!
What bitter punishment for past frivolity brought back upon his ownhead! But there was no turning back. We are in Russia, and when the Czarcommands there is no option but to obey.
The next day Alexander himself took Pushkin to Sophie. The betrothaltook place in his presence. Pushkin was able to convince himself thatthe heart intrusted to him was a treasure far above the merits of anysublunary being. He learned that there can be an ideal bliss infinitelymore sublime than any earthly enjoyment utterly without sensualpassion--a magic of sympathy which is not dependent upon the power ofpossession; that spiritual attraction is stronger even than love. It wasto him as though one of those angelic souls already floating heavenwardwere drawing him thither in its train.
* * * * *
A few weeks later Sir James Wylie said to the Czar:
"Princess Sophie's health is improving visibly."
"I have found the panacea!" was the reply.