by Mór Jókai
EPISODES
THE RESCUED POET
The revolution was entirely suppressed. The last body of insurgents,under the leadership of Jakuskin, had thrown themselves into a palaceand defended it with the heroism of despair until it had been attackedon all sides. This ended the St. Petersburg attempt.
Equally disastrous was the Southern insurrection. The two brothersMuravieff Apostol,[1] being taken prisoners, were rescued by someofficers belonging to the republican "League of United Serfs." Then,placing themselves at the head of the Southern Army, they proclaimed arepublic in Vasilkov, its priest blessing their arms. But the blessingbore no fruit. The soldiers had nothing to urge against a republic; but_who would be its Czar_? For a republic must necessarily have a Czar!Upon the hills of Ustinoskai they lie buried, where they were shot downin whole companies and trodden under the horses' feet. Upon the gravewhich covers their remains a gallows has been erected as their memorial.
[Footnote 1: Apostol was the family name.]
The dead of the Northern Union did not even receive a memorial such asthat. From the beginning of the fight they were hustled under the ice ofthe Neva, and the Neva retains its coating of ice for five whole months.Jakuskin was taken prisoner; but in his prison he dashed his brains outagainst the stone walls of his cell.
Pushkin was miraculously saved. The hearts of two women accomplished themiracle--two women who united so perfectly in their love for him that toboth, equally, he owed his life.
The digression he had made in going first to Galban's delayed hisarrival on time at St. Petersburg on the eventful day. Before he hadeven reached Czarskoje Zelo his horses had broken down under the strainof the long journey, on the road he met Battenkoff, fleeing from the St.Petersburg slaughter, and learned from him that all was lost, thatPrince Ghedimin was exiled to Siberia, whither Zeneida was voluntarilyaccompanying him.
Pushkin was free to turn back to his wife. There was no longer anEleutheria. She was dead and buried.
There was no one to accuse him of having belonged to the League of thePartisans of Freedom. His name had been inscribed among that tenthousand whom the "demoniacal" whim of an actress had saved from thescaffold and from banishment to Siberia.
After that came enough of the hard times beloved by Pushkin's muse.
And, that he might belong entirely to his muse, Bethsaba, too, forsookhim.
She went--to rejoin Sophie. She could no longer endure this coldprison-world of ours. And Pushkin then remained alone in his desolatecastle, with no other confidante than old Helenka. To her he read hisverses.
In the spring of the following year he received a command from CzarNicholas to present himself at St. Petersburg.
His imprisoned friends at that time were to be executed.
That, too, was a tragic episode! It would need the pen of a Victor Hugoto describe how, at the very moment of execution, the whole bloodyholocaust broke down, and condemned, executioners, and officers ofjustice were alike buried beneath it.
It was then that the Czar commanded Pushkin in audience before him.Pushkin was wearing mourning.
"For whom do you mourn?" the Czar asked.
"For my wife, sire."
"So, not for your dead friends? Now, confess. _On which side would youhave stood had you been here in St. Petersburg?_"
Pushkin felt the cold edge of the executioner's sword at his throat.Dare one answer such a question with a lie? According to the world'sethics, one may--one does. The conspirator is not in duty bound toaccuse himself, to make confession of what cannot be proved against him,is not required to open out the secrets of his heart. And yet Pushkincould not bring a lie to his lips. Reason dictated it, but his proudheart went counter to it.
"_Had I been present_," he answered the Czar, "_I should have taken myplace by the side of my friends._"
"I am glad that you have answered me thus," returned the Czar. "I amabout to have the period of Peter the Great written, and seek a man forthe purpose who can poetize, but who cannot lie. That man I have found!I commit the writing of that epoch to you. Go back to your home andbegin; and to all that you from henceforth write I will myself becensor."
Thus did one of Russia's greatest poets and personalities escape thefatal catastrophe.
At the Bear's Paw they certainly proscribed him as a traitor; foralthough all other secret societies had paid for their opinions withtheir blood, that of the Bear's Paw still existed, and did not ceaseeven then to thirst for Freedom.