Early autumn has always been the most popular season. It is neither cold nor hot and the temperature is suitable. Nature can appropriately show people its rich scenery at this time.
Tsarskoye Selo, located on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, is also ushering in its most picturesque days.
Under the mild and pleasant sunshine, those carefully built palaces and sculptures display the majesty and style of the imperial family, while the surrounding lush green trees also leave their elegant reflections in the pond.
However, compared to those days in the past, the atmosphere in Royal Village at this time seemed a lot more tense, and the beautiful scenery was somewhat overshadowed by the lack of spectators.
Although the imperial government has not yet made an official announcement, there have always been no secrets in this palace - all the courtiers and guards officers already knew that the Russian Empire was about to go to war with Turkey, and everything in this palace was already surrounding the upcoming war. The coming war turned.
Those ambitious generals and young officers are busy opening up joints everywhere so that they can squeeze into the troops scheduled to march into the Balkans, make contributions in the future, and make their future prospects more brilliant - some overly enthusiastic young people People are even planning the triumphal ceremony after marching into Constantinople.
Because of this, most people naturally have no intention to appreciate the picturesque scenery of Tsarskoe Selo.
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin. The poet who received the most attention and praise from all walks of life in the empire was coming to the Catherine Palace where His Majesty the Tsar lived to meet His Majesty Tsar Nicholas I.
Under the guidance of his attendants, Pushkin came to the magnificent reception room of His Majesty the Tsar. At this time, His Majesty the Tsar was sitting behind his desk, calmly looking at the young poet who was only three years younger than himself.
"Alexander Sergeyevich, do you have any other poems you can share with us today?" He nodded slightly to show his kindness.
Perhaps because he valued the poet's reputation, the Tsar was quite polite to Pushkin. Not only was he pleasant when meeting him, but he also tolerated the disrespectful remarks that came out of his mouth from time to time against the imperial family and the government.
But in his heart, only God knows how much he respects the poet. His Majesty the Tsar is a gloomy person, and his emotions and anger are inexpressible. Even if he has a good impression of someone in his heart, it will hinder his ability to maintain his status as an emperor. With polite indifference.
"Your Majesty, I'm sorry that I haven't written any poetry recently." Pushkin lowered his head in shame, "Because the recent anxiety and enthusiasm have made me restless. I find it difficult to concentrate on sitting. Writing poetry at the table, I couldn’t even calm down and appreciate the beautiful scenery of Tsarskoye Selo.”
"Oh? What makes our best poet so restless?" His Majesty smiled slightly, "Is it a certain lovely lady here?"
"No... Your Majesty." Pushkin quickly shook his head, "It is a feeling that is more intense than love, and that is the love for the motherland."
When he first met the young tsar, he was a little overwhelmed, but as he spent more and more time in Tsarskoe Selo, the opportunities to meet his majesty also increased day by day. By now, he had already gotten used to it. Standing in front of His Majesty and talking freely, I will no longer feel embarrassed.
However, even so, His Majesty the Tsar is still the Tsar and the most authoritative person in the empire. He will never regard His Majesty as a friend in his heart, and will always maintain a proper sense of distance when communicating.
"Love for the motherland? That's great." His Majesty the Tsar raised his eyebrows, "Then how do you want to express this love?"
"There is no more appropriate way to express it than to live and die for it." Pushkin replied.
Then, he hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind and said, "I have heard some rumors recently. People say that the empire is about to go to war with the Turks."
Although he had some reservations about his choice of words, Pushkin knew this was an ironclad fact.
Not long ago, he learned about this rumor from his good friend Boris Volkonsky. After a period of fermentation, this had almost become an open secret within the palace. He also learned from several people I heard this rumor from my mouth - that is to say, this war against the Turks is destined to break out soon.
"The palace is always full of all kinds of rumors." The Tsar's expression did not change, but his eyes became more severe. "Alexander, I think that as a normal person, you should not be too sensitive to all kinds of rumors." Interest is the only thing, and the decisions of the imperial government should not be judged by outsiders, or even make irresponsible remarks."
Pushkin knew that his majesty was unhappy by mentioning this matter.
However, he was not going to back down from this and continued.
"Your Majesty, you are right. I am a poet, not an official. I should not make irresponsible remarks on the government's affairs. But please understand that I am also a noble of the Russian Empire. I cannot be needed in my motherland. Stand idly by while you serve.”
"It sounds like you want to be involved?" the Tsar asked.
This rhetorical question also means that he admits that the war with the Turks is indeed about to break out.
"Yes, Your Majesty. In 1812, I was only thirteen years old, and I was not qualified to participate in that sacred war and serve the country; but in 1827, I was already twenty-eight years old. I used enough physical and mental strength to I will try my best to dedicate myself to the motherland." Pushkin raised his head and looked at His Majesty who was sitting with a sincere gaze. "With my most sincere emotions, I implore you not to reject my request and let me follow the army."
The Tsar did not answer immediately, and looked at Pushkin as if to gauge the strength of his determination.
"As far as I know you have no military experience." After a moment, the Tsar finally spoke again. "Even if you go with the army, you won't bring any help to the imperial army, and it will be quite dangerous to yourself, right?"
What the tsar said is the truth. Although Pushkin received a complete elite education like other Russian aristocratic children since he was a child, he was exiled by the late Emperor Alexander I at a young age and sent to Ukraine to serve. Later, he was recalled to his hometown to live leisurely. He did not become an Imperial officer like the rest of his peers.
"Yes, I do have no experience in the military, but I have a passion for it, and I am willing to take risks for the motherland..." Pushkin replied enthusiastically, "Being an officer may require skills, but being a soldier only requires the ability to learn to carry a gun. And just listen to the command, I can still do this... Your Majesty! I implore you to fulfill my wish, even if it is just as a soldier, give me the opportunity to participate in this expedition."
As Pushkin spoke, he waved his hands, his expression and body were full of passion, and he was obviously immersed in his own spiritual world.
This enthusiasm also slightly infected the Tsar, who was accustomed to indifference.
He sighed softly. "Okay, let's let the best poet in our country be a soldier. No one will do this kind of business..."
After hearing these words, Pushkin thought that His Majesty had rejected his request, so he hurriedly wanted to continue his impassioned speech, but then the Tsar raised a finger to stop him.
"However, your enthusiasm is very touching. If I refuse forcefully, I'm afraid I will lose the magnanimity that an emperor should have..." His Majesty the Tsar lowered his gaze slightly, seeming to be thinking about something, "Then Okay, I'll satisfy you, you can use your expertise and serve as a clerical worker in a regiment."
After he finished speaking, he gently tapped the table with his finger, and the solid walnut desk immediately made a soft "thunk" sound. "However, we have a word in advance - Alexander Sergeyevich, you asked for all this yourself. If you fail to perform your duties and break your promise, then I will not lend you a loan..."
The sudden joy made Pushkin's heart beat wildly. He finally restrained himself and prevented himself from losing his composure in front of His Majesty.
For him, His Majesty's approval means that his wish has come true, and it means that he can get rid of the glitz and dull atmosphere of Tsarskoye Selo and go to a strange foreign land to express his nature and find the inspiration that has not arrived for a long time.
And if he was lucky, he could even meet Napoleon's son and see what kind of person this boy who wanted to shake the world at a young age really was.
This must be a very interesting experience for poets who like fantasy.
"Thank you for your magnanimity, Your Majesty... I will always be grateful to you." He immediately bowed and saluted His Majesty the Tsar, and then said with gratitude, "Please rest assured that I will do my best to complete the tasks that you and the motherland have given me. mission."
"Well, let's see how you behave then." His Majesty the Tsar returned to his usual indifference and just nodded lightly.
Then, he seemed to have thought of something, and looked at Pushkin again, "By the way, you are so active in the war, could it be that you are interested in Duke Lechstatt?"
For a moment, Pushkin's original joy was diluted by this sharp sight, and he suddenly became nervous.
How to respond? he thought.
He knew that he was not good at lying. If he lied forcefully, His Majesty would be able to tell easily, which would lower his evaluation of him.
So, after hesitating for a moment, he decided to tell the truth——
"I am indeed quite interested in him. After all, I couldn't even write poetry well at his age, but he was able to make waves on the European stage... If we abandon stereotypes and moral evaluations, I think he is really an interesting person. If If we have a chance to meet him, I would be happy to have a drink with him."
After saying this, he immediately changed the topic, "Of course, this interest will never exceed my love for Mother Russia... In order to defend Russia, I dare to raise my sword even for Napoleon himself, let alone his son. Now, you don’t have to worry about me doing anything detrimental to the country.
At this point, he spread his hands calmly, "Furthermore, I have neither national secrets nor a large amount of wealth. Apart from my passion and love for the motherland, I have nothing to show for it." Sold to others."
The last sentence made the tsar quite satisfied - indeed, even if Pushkin wanted to betray his country, what would he have to sell?
"Poets are poets, and their ideas are always so strange..." he muttered quietly.
After thinking about it, maybe his motives were not pure, but it could still satisfy him.
So the Tsar looked at Pushkin again. "Well, now that you have said this, I really can't bear to refuse... Alexander Sergeyevich, I allow you to become a member of the expeditionary force, you can go."
After finishing speaking, he returned his gaze to his desk.
Of course Pushkin knew what was going on, so without saying another word, he immediately saluted His Majesty the Tsar and said goodbye, then turned and left.
For him, the goal has been achieved.
After leaving Yekaterin Palace, Pushkin came to the woods, sat on a bench by the pond, quietly enjoyed the beautiful scenery around him, and calmed down his mood.
At this moment, he noticed that someone was approaching him and sat directly next to him.
"Alexander Sergeyevich..." the visitor greeted him with a smile, "You look happy?"
Pushkin looked up and found that the person coming was his friend Boris Volkonsky.
"Boris Petnovitch, you've come just in time!" he immediately shouted cheerfully, sharing his joy with one of his few friends in Tsarskoe Selo. "I just met with His Majesty, and then I asked him to accompany the army on the expedition. Although he was a little dissatisfied, he finally agreed..."
"Really? Congratulations, my friend." Boris Volkonsky smiled and nodded. "Then let me tell you by the way, I will also become an officer in the expeditionary force. If we are lucky, we may even be in the same army."
"That would be great." Pushkin looked at his friend sincerely, "Boris, I wish you success in your career."
"I also wish that you will be able to write a magnificent and immortal poem for our great expedition..." Boris Volkonsky also laughed and replied.
Then, he suddenly winked at Pushkin, and then lowered his voice, "If necessary, I can accommodate you so that you can meet the poor Duke Lechstatt and fulfill your wish. .”
Pushkin knew that this guy was not just talking casually. After all, he came from a famous family and his elders had many connections in the army. With his help, he should be able to easily leave the team for a short time to meet that interesting young man.
Yes... everything is ready.
Pushkin raised his head leisurely, looked at the blue and white sky, breathed in the fresh and pleasant air of the Tsarskoe Selo forest, and then sighed.
"Hopefully I won't be disappointed in the end."
