Eagle’s Glory

While His Majesty the Tsar was discussing state affairs with his important ministers, the outstanding "poet" in His Majesty's mouth was in the banquet hall of the Catherine Palace in the Imperial Village, with his good friend Boris- Petronovich-Volkonsky had lunch.

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin, although only 28 years old, is already recognized as the most outstanding poet and writer of the empire, but he is only here because of his aristocratic status That's all, the harsh identity hierarchy of the Empire leaves little room for freedom even in the world of literature.

However, Pushkin is not proud of this. He is talented and amazingly talented. He is famous in Russia at a young age. However, his pursuit of freedom is incompatible with the atmosphere of the imperial court.

Several times he wrote poems extolling freedom and opposing the tsarist autocracy, which must have offended the tsar.

In 1820, Tsar Alexander I ordered him to be demoted to the Caucasus when he was only 21 years old, and two years later he was transferred to Odessa, Ukraine, and he still insisted on creating despite the bumps everywhere, and traveled to the Caucasus mountains, River steppe and Crimea and other places to enrich their experience.

He insisted that the authority of the emperor did not come from God but from the jurisprudence of the human world. Only when a ruler conforms to the freedom and tranquility of the people, his authority is worthy of respect, and blood cannot intimidate the people.

As he wrote in his long poem "Ode to Liberty":

Today, whether it is punishment or praise,

A **** prison, or an altar,

cannot be your true shield;

Please under the shadow of legal security

First bow your heads,

If so, the freedom and tranquility of the people

It is the eternal guardian of the throne.

His creations continued the same tone as before, which was too much for the Tsar to tolerate, and in 1824 Tsar Alexander ordered him to be placed under surveillance in his hometown of Pskov.

It was not until the death of the tsar in 1825 that his younger brother Nikolai was released from surveillance and came to serve in the court, but on the condition that he would not be allowed to write anti-government poetry in the future.

Although Pushkin made concessions for freedom, but even so, he still did not completely lower his head. He once said in front of Tsar Nicholas I that he respected those rebellious Decembrist friends, and if he was at that time If they were in Petersburg, they would certainly join their uprising.

He even wrote a short poem, "To the Prisoners of Siberia," about the exiled Decembrists.

If someone else had said this in front of the tsar, he might have been jailed, or at least exiled, but Tsar Nicholas I tolerated the offense.

The two brothers, Tsar Alexander I and Tsar Nicholas I, were very contradictory to this talented poet, both cherishing his talent and hating his liberal tendencies and the eccentric tones revealed in their poems from time to time. Although the treatment is severe, there is always room for it.

Perhaps in the eyes of Tsar Nicholas, poets are just poets after all, even if there are any disgusting political opinions, they are irrelevant and cannot threaten his rule. He is happy to use this talented poet to decorate his court.

And Pushkin also knew that although he praised freedom and dignity countless times, he was still a part of this tyrannical empire, and he never escaped from this system, but his aristocratic status allowed him to have a prosperous life and a palace Respect also allows him to enjoy the leisurely and exquisite life in the imperial village, and in order to maintain all that he has, he has to temporarily bow his head in addition to his unrestrained thoughts, temporarily catering to the reality.

This conflict between reality and ideal made him feel depressed. Since he came to the Imperial Village, he has been in this mental anguish, and he found that he could not find any other solution. Live to temporarily numb your mind.

However, deep in his heart, he was still looking forward to some unexpected flash of light that would shatter his dull life.

Although he doesn't know what that flash is, he believes that the world will be different in the end, and everything that is suffocating and dull at this moment will eventually disappear.

And now, he can only wait and enjoy his lunch quietly.

Opposite him sat a blond young man in the uniform of the Praetorian Guards. The young man's name was Boris Volkonsky. He was born in a noble family, and his relatives were very active in all walks of life in high society. , the power is huge, so his future prospects are also highly optimistic, and the ladies all hope to marry their daughters to this promising young man.

However, Pushkin made friends with him, not because he valued his family background and future, but because he was a likable young man. Although he was a little loose and cynical that aristocratic young people often had, but even so, he was still elegant and elegant. Funny people, who understand literature and have spiritual pursuits, are completely different from those sons and brothers who only drink and enjoy themselves.

The two chatted and drank each other, enjoying the leisure after lunch, and time passed slowly.

However, even when chatting, Pushkin always seemed a little absent-minded, he casually perfunctory friends, from time to time looking at the lawn outside the window in the distance, thoughtful.

"Alexander Sergeyevich, what is it that makes you look so sad?" asked Boris Volkonsky suddenly. "Does it make you so unhappy to be here?"

"Of course I'm happier here than in exile." Pushkin replied calmly, "But you know, people hate boredom."

"So many ladies can't get you out of boredom? Then you're really insatiable." Boris Volkonsky shrugged, insinuating his friend.

However, he quickly changed the conversation, "Then let me provide you with interesting news, I believe it will help you get rid of boredom for a while."

"What's the matter?" Pushkin asked quickly.

Boris lowered his voice and whispered to his friend.

"The Duke of Leichstedt, well, you know, Napoleon's son, hasn't heard from him since he escaped from Vienna, but the news just got to Petersburg these two days, and he wants to do something in Greece. cause, to help independent causes out there.”

"What?" Pushkin almost shouted in astonishment.

He managed to control his emotions, and then whispered to the other party, "Is this true?"

"My friend, you should know that there are never real secrets in the court." Boris blinked and replied with a playful smile, "Even if I don't tell you now, in a few days you will learn from others. All this in the whispers of men."

Pushkin was silent. He knew that what his friend said should be right. Although Boris usually likes to joke, he will not lie to himself about this kind of thing.

That is to say, the heir of the great man is really unwilling to remain silent, and wants to do something to make his existence remember.

Interesting, very interesting.

His sluggish mood due to his daily dull life suddenly rippled a little, as if he was excited and uneasy about the new changes taking place in the world.

But anyway, something fresh is better than everything boring.

"Then what happens next?" He couldn't help but ask again after a moment.

Boris did not answer immediately, but looked around cautiously.

After making sure that no one was watching and eavesdropping on the two of them, he moved closer to his friend and whispered to him.

"As things stand, our war with the Turks may soon break out - His Majesty will never allow anyone to steal his honor."

Pushkin looked at Boris in surprise, but not too surprised.

In history, the Russian Empire has fought countless wars with the Turks, which is not surprising. Moreover, in the past two years, there has been a group of people in the imperial court who insisted on implementing a tough line against the Ottoman Empire.

So what the young man did was not so much a trigger for the czar's ambitions, but rather a fuse, he just ignited a war that should have happened.

He thought for a moment, then chuckled again.

"Ha...haha. It's funny, are we so intolerable to the Bonaparte family that we're going to send troops to destroy it when we hear a little news?"

"The Bonaparte family is just a pretext. Who really cares about them now." Boris Volkonsky shook his head. "Constantinople is the key. His Majesty needs this honor."

"Will the foreign powers sit back and watch?" Pushkin felt a little hesitant.

Although he is not so concerned about national affairs, as a court noble, he can instinctively feel something, so he can perceive the key to the problem.

"Who knows, maybe maybe not, this is a matter of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, it has nothing to do with us." Boris Volkonsky picked up the glass and took a sip of red wine, "It's the best, It can't be at least we can take the opportunity to cut a piece of meat from the Turkish Empire, isn't it good?"

"It's true." Pushkin also nodded.

Pushkin hates autocracy and corruption, so he is naturally full of contempt and hatred for Turkey. Compared with Turkey, the tsarist system is nothing.

So he is also happy to see the Turkish Empire wither as soon as possible, so that the various peoples enslaved by it can get the freedom they deserve.

He didn't like war, but if it could lead to a national liberation result, then he would love to see it happen.

"If there is a war, you will definitely go to the battlefield." After a moment, he asked.

"Of course." Boris Volkonsky answered rightly.

As a famous nobleman and a Praetorian Guard officer, Boris Volkonsky is of course unwilling to let go of this opportunity to make a fortune.

"Then I wish you all the best and a bright future." Pushkin raised his glass to his friend. "My dear friend Boris."

"Come, let's drink to our poor His Royal Highness Duke Reichstedt." Boris Volkonsky also smiled and picked up the glass, and then made another joke. "I wish this lad good health and thank him for bringing this war to me."

The two cups collided gently, making a crisp sound.

"I'd rather you call him King of Rome," Pushkin said after taking a sip of wine.

"That's too unworthy of the name." Boris Volkonsky shook his head, seeming to be disapproving, "He has neither an empire nor Rome. In fact, I have given him face by calling him a duke. After all, the Austrian Empire still has It's hard to say whether I'm willing to admit this title or not... His Majesty the Emperor of Austria has a headache for this rebellious grandson."

"Some titles are not on the official roster, but in spirit." Pushkin said, taking another sip of wine, "Compared to everything that has decayed, at least he represents something new, some former Something that has never been seen and has been temporarily sealed. Although his father was punished by God for his arrogance and tyranny, he did nothing wrong."

Indeed, Pushkin had mixed feelings about the Napoleon and Bonaparte families.

As a die-hard liberal, he praised and cheered the French Revolution, and praised Napoleon for defending the fruits of the revolution and using the Code to establish the spirit of the Revolution. However, he also disliked Napoleon's later ascension to the throne He took the path of autocracy and hated Napoleon's subsequent invasion of Russia even more.

After learning of Napoleon's death, he wrote a long poem in which he expressed his complicated feelings for Napoleon: on the one hand, he hated that Napoleon was fascinated by power, became an aggressor, and was eventually taken by Russia Overwhelmed by the revolt of the people; but on the other hand, he acknowledged Napoleon's loftiness and merit, and praised him for bringing liberty and glory to Europe.

The last paragraph of his long poem is to say goodbye to Napoleon with such feelings.

"Who is so narrow-minded these days,

willing to suffer shameful infamy,

rash condemnation,

To disturb the undead he deposed!

Ah, he is for the Russian people

pointed out a noble mission,

Give the world eternal freedom,

A legacy of his exile. "

He thought that everything had been buried for a long time. With the burial of Napoleon on the desert island, it turned into a puff of dust, and Europe would also fall into night and devour the morning light.

However, today, he was shocked to discover that although that person died, the family was not willing to disappear with it, but struggled stubbornly and stubbornly, as if it had to stand on the stage of the world.

Pushkin could not bear to mock and condemn this pathetic and honorable performance.

Although he didn't know what his Highness wanted, at least he seemed to be working hard for the liberation and freedom of mankind, so what's so funny?

He didn't know how things would turn out after that, but it was obviously a lot more interesting than all the intrigues and affairs that happened in the Imperial Village.

For poets, dullness is the most terrible poison.

"It is said that Duke Leichstedt is also a poet." At this moment, Boris Volkonsky suddenly spoke again, "I think the two of you may have a common language?"

Pushkin remained silent.

Until after an unknown amount of time, he suddenly raised his head and looked at his friend.

"Boris, if the war starts and I apply to accompany me, can you intercede for me?"

"Of course." Boris Bolkonsky didn't seem surprised at his idea, just nodded slightly.

Then he picked up the glass again, "Cheers, my friend."