CHAPTER LVII.
That happy night, full of omens of victory, was followed by August26,--the day most important in the history of that war. In the castlethey expected some great effort on the part of the Turks. In fact,about sunrise there was heard such a loud and mighty hammering alongthe left side of the castle as never before. Evidently the Turks werehurrying with a new mine, the largest of all. Strong detachments oftroops were guarding that work from a distance. Swarms began to move inthe trenches. From the multitude of colored banners with which thefield on the side of Dlujek had bloomed as with flowers, it was knownthat the vizir was coming to direct the storm in person. New cannonwere brought to the intrenchments by janissaries, countless throngs ofwhom covered the new castle, taking refuge in its fosses and ruins, soas to be in readiness for a hand-to-hand struggle.
As has been said, the castle was the first to begin the converse withcannon, and so effectually that a momentary panic rose in the trenches.But the bimbashes rallied the janissaries in the twinkle of an eye; atthe same time all the Turkish cannon raised their voices. Bombs, balls,and grapeshot were flying; at the heads of the besieged flew rubbish,bricks, plaster; smoke was mingled with dust, the heat of fire with theheat of the sun. Breath was failing in men's breasts; sight left theireyes. The roar of guns, the bursting of bombs, the biting ofcannon-balls on the rocks, the uproar of the Turks, the cries of thedefenders, formed one terrible concert which was accompanied by theechoes of the cliffs. The castle was covered with missiles; the town,the gates, all the bastions, were covered. But the castle defendeditself with rage; it answered thunders with thunders, shook, flashed,smoked, roared, vomited fire, death, and destruction, as if Jove'sanger had borne it away,--as if it had forgotten itself amid flames; asif it wished to drown the Turkish thunders and sink in the earth, orelse triumph.
In the castle, among flying balls, fire, dust, and smoke, the littleknight rushed from cannon to cannon, from one wall to another, fromcorner to corner; he was like a destroying flame. He seemed to doubleand treble himself: he was everywhere. He encouraged; he shouted. Whena gunner fell he took his place, and rousing confidence in men, ranagain to some other spot. His fire was communicated to the soldiers.They believed that this was the last storm, after which would comepeace and glory; faith in victory filled their breasts. Their heartsgrew firm and resolute; the madness of battle seized their minds.Shouts and challenges issued every moment from their throats. Such rageseized some that they went over the wall to close outside with thejanissaries hand to hand.
The janissaries, under cover of smoke, went twice to the breach indense masses; and twice they fell back in disorder after they hadcovered the ground with their bodies. About midday the volunteer andirregular janissaries were sent to aid them; but the less trainedcrowds, though pushed from behind with darts, only howled with dreadfulvoices, and did not wish to go against the castle. The kaimakan came;that did no good. Every moment threatened disorder, bordering on panic.At last the men were withdrawn; and the guns alone worked unceasinglyas before, hurling thunder after thunder, lightning after lightning.
Whole hours were spent in this manner. The sun had passed the zenith,and rayless, red, and smoky, as if veiled by haze, looked at thatstruggle.
About three o'clock in the afternoon the roar of guns gained such forcethat in the castle the loudest words shouted in the ear were notaudible. The air in the castle became as hot as in a stove. The waterwhich they poured on the cannon turned into steam, mixing with thesmoke and hiding the light; but the guns thundered on.
Just after three o'clock, the largest Turkish culverines were broken.Some "Our Fathers" later, the mortar standing near them burst, struckby a long shot. Gunners perished like flies. Every moment it becamemore evident that that irrepressible castle was gaining in thestruggle, that it would roar down the Turkish thunder, and utter thelast word of victory.
The Turkish fire began to weaken gradually.
"The end will come!" shouted Volodyovski, with all his might, inKetling's ear. He wished his friend to hear those words amid the roar.
"So I think," answered Ketling. "To last till to-morrow, or longer?"
"Perhaps longer. Victory is with us to-day."
"And through us. We must think of that new mine."
The Turkish fire was weakening still more.
"Keep up the cannonade!" cried Volodyovski. And he sprang among thegunners, "Fire, men!" cried he, "till the last Turkish gun is silent!To the glory of God and the Most Holy Lady! To the glory of theCommonwealth!"
The soldiers, seeing that the storm was nearing its end, gave forth aloud shout, and with the greater enthusiasm fired at the Turkishtrenches.
"We'll play an evening kindya for you, dog brothers," cried manyvoices.
Suddenly something wonderful took place. All the Turkish guns ceased atonce, as if some one had cut them off with a knife. At the same time,the musketry fire of the janissaries ceased in the new castle. The oldcastle thundered for a time yet; but at last the officers began to lookat one another, and inquire,--
"What is this? What has happened?"
Ketling, alarmed somewhat, ceased firing also.
"Maybe there is a mine under us which will be exploded right away,"said one of the officers.
Volodyovski pierced the man with a threatening glance, and said, "Themine is not ready; and even if it were, only the left side of thecastle could be blown up by it, and we will defend ourselves in theruins while there is breath in our nostrils. Do you understand?"
Silence followed, unbroken by a shot from the trenches or the town.After thunders from which the walls and the earth had been quivering,there was something solemn in that silence, but something ominous also.The eyes of each were intent on the trenches; but through the clouds ofsmoke nothing was visible. Suddenly the measured blows of hammers wereheard on the left side.
"I told you that they are only making the mine," said Pan Michael."Sergeant, take twenty men and examine for me the new castle,"commanded he, turning to Lusnia.
Lusnia obeyed quickly, took twenty men, and vanished in a moment beyondthe breach. Silence followed again, broken only by groans here andthere, or the gasp of the dying, and the pounding of hammers. Theywaited rather long. At last the sergeant returned.
"Pan Commandant," said he, "there is not a living soul in the newcastle."
Volodyovski looked with astonishment at Ketling. "Have they raised thesiege already, or what? Nothing can be seen through the smoke."
But the smoke, blown by the wind, became thin, and at last its veil wasbroken above the town. At the same moment a voice, shrill and terrible,began to shout from the bastion,--
"Over the gates are white flags! We are surrendering!"
Hearing this, the soldiers and officers turned toward the town.Terrible amazement was reflected on their faces; the words died on thelips of all; and through the strips of smoke they were gazing towardthe town. But in the town, on the Russian and Polish gates, white flagswere really waving. Farther on, they saw one on the bastion of Batory.
The face of the little knight became as white as those flags waving inthe wind.
"Ketling, do you see?" whispered he, turning to his friend.
Ketling's face was pale also. "I see," replied he.
And they looked into each other's eyes for some time, uttering withthem everything which two soldiers like them, without fear or reproach,had to say,--soldiers who never in life had broken their word, and whohad sworn before the altar to die rather than surrender the castle. Andnow, after such a defence, after a struggle which recalled the days ofZbaraj, after a storm which had been repulsed, and after a victory,they were commanded to break their oath, to surrender the castle, andlive.
As, not long before, hostile balls were flying over the castle, so nowhostile thoughts were flying in a throng through their heads. Andsorrow simply measureless pressed their hearts,--sorrow for two lovedones, sorrow for life and happiness; hence they looked at each other asif demen
ted, as if dead, and at times they turned glances full ofdespair toward the town, as if wishing to be sure that their eyes werenot deceiving them,--to be sure that the last hour had struck.
At that time horses' hoofs sounded from the direction of the town; andafter a while Horaim, the attendant of the starosta, rushed up to them.
"An order to the commandant!" cried he, reining in his horse.
Volodyovski took the order, read it in silence, and after a time, amidsilence as of the grave, said to the officers,--
"Gracious gentlemen, commissioners have crossed the river in a boat,and have gone to Dlujek to sign conditions. After a time they will comehere. Before evening we must withdraw the troops from the castle, andraise a white flag without delay."
No one answered a word. Nothing was heard but quick breathing.
At last Kvasibrotski said, "We must raise the white flag. I will musterthe men."
Here and there the words of command were heard. The soldiers began totake their places in ranks, and shoulder arms. The clatter of musketsand the measured tread roused echoes in the silent castle.
Ketling pushed up to Pan Michael. "Is it time?" inquired he.
"Wait for the commissioners; let us hear the conditions! Besides, Iwill go down myself."
"No, I will go! I know the places better; I know the position ofeverything."
"The commissioners are returning! The commissioners are returning!"
The three unhappy envoys appeared in the castle after a certain time.They were Grushetski, judge of Podolia, the chamberlain Revuski, andPan Myslishevski, banneret of Chernigoff. They came gloomily, withdrooping heads; on their shoulders were gleaming kaftans of goldbrocade, which they had received as gifts from the vizir.
Volodyovski was waiting for them, resting against a gun turned towardDlujek. The gun was hot yet, and steaming. All three greeted him insilence.
"What are the conditions?" asked he.
"The town will not be plundered; life and property are assured to theinhabitants. Whoever does not choose to remain has the right towithdraw and betake himself to whatever place may please him."
"And Kamenyets?"
The commissioners dropped their heads: "Goes to the Sultan forever."
The commissioners took their way, not toward the bridge, for throngs ofpeople had blocked the road, but toward the southern gate at the side.When they had descended, they sat in the boat which was to go to thePolish gate. In the low place lying along the river between the cliffs,the janissaries began to appear. Greater and greater streams of peopleflowed from the town, and occupied the place opposite the old bridge.Many wished to run to the castle; but the outgoing regiments restrainedthem, at command of the little knight.
When Volodyovski had mustered the troops, he called Pan Mushalski andsaid to him,--
"Old friend, do me one more service. Go this moment to my wife, andtell her from me--" Here the voice stuck in the throat of the littleknight for a while. "And say to her from me--" He halted again, andthen added quickly, "This life is nothing!"
The bowman departed. After him the troops went out gradually. PanMichael mounted his horse and watched over the march. The castle wasevacuated slowly, because of the rubbish and fragments which blockedthe way.
Ketling approached the little knight. "I will go down," said he, fixinghis teeth.
"Go! but delay till the troops have marched out. Go!"
Here they seized each other in an embrace which lasted some time. Theeyes of both were gleaming with an uncommon radiance. Ketling rushedaway at last toward the vaults.
Pan Michael took the helmet from his head. He looked awhile yet on theruin, on that field of his glory, on the rubbish, the corpses, thefragments of walls, on the breastwork, on the guns; then raising hiseyes, he began to pray. His last words were, "Grant her, O Lord, toendure this patiently; give her peace!"
Ah! Ketling hastened, not waiting even till the troops had marched out;for at that moment the bastions quivered, an awful roar rent the air;bastions, towers, walls, horses, guns, living men, corpses, masses ofearth, all torn upward with a flame, and mixed, pounded together, as itwere, into one dreadful cartridge, flew toward the sky.
Thus died Volodyovski, the Hector of Kamenyets, the first soldier ofthe Commonwealth.
In the monastery of St. Stanislav stood a lofty catafalque in thecentre of the church; it was surrounded with gleaming tapers, and on itlay Pan Volodyovski in two coffins, one of lead and one of wood. Thelids had been fastened, and the funeral service was just ending.
It was the heartfelt wish of the widow that the body should rest inHreptyoff; but since all Podolia was in the hands of the enemy, it wasdecided to bury it temporarily in Stanislav, for to that place the"exiles" of Kamenyets had been sent under a Turkish convoy, and theredelivered to the troops of the hetman.
All the bells in the monastery were ringing. The church was filled witha throng of nobles and soldiers, who wished to look for the last timeat the coffin of the Hector of Kamenyets, and the first cavalier of theCommonwealth. It was whispered that the hetman himself was to come tothe funeral; but as he had not appeared so far, and as at any momentthe Tartars might come in a chambul, it was determined not to defer theceremony.
Old soldiers, friends or subordinates of the deceased, stood in acircle around the catafalque. Among others were present Pan Mushalski,the bowman. Pan Motovidlo, Pan Snitko, Pan Hromyka, Pan Nyenashinyets,Pan Novoveski, and many others, former officers of the stanitsa. By amarvellous fortune, no man was lacking of those who had sat on theevening benches around the hearth at Hreptyoff; all had brought theirheads safely out of that war, except the man who was their leader andmodel. That good and just knight, terrible to the enemy, loving to hisown; that swordsman above swordsmen, with the heart of a dove,--laythere high among the tapers, in glory immeasurable, but in the silenceof death. Hearts hardened through war were crushed with sorrow at thatsight; yellow gleams from the tapers shone on the stern, sufferingfaces of warriors, and were reflected in glittering points in the tearsdropping down from their eyelids.
Within the circle of soldiers lay Basia, in the form of a cross, on thefloor, and near her Zagloba, old, broken, decrepit, and trembling. Shehad followed on foot from Kamenyets the hearse bearing that mostprecious coffin, and now the moment had come when it was necessary to,give that coffin to the earth. Walking the whole way, insensible, as ifnot belonging to this world, and now at the catafalque, she repeatedwith unconscious lips, "This life is nothing!" She repeated it becausethat beloved one had commanded her, for that was the last message whichhe had sent her; but in that repetition and in those expressions weremere sounds, without substance, without truth, without meaning andsolace. No; "This life is nothing" meant merely regret, darkness,despair, torpor, merely misfortune incurable, life beaten andbroken,--an erroneous announcement that there was nothing above her,neither mercy nor hope; that there was merely a desert, and it will bea desert which God alone can fill when He sends death.
They rang the bells; at the great altar Mass was at its end. At lastthundered the deep voice of the priest, as if calling from the abyss:"_Requiescat in pace!_" A feverish quiver shook Basia, and in herunconscious head rose one thought alone, "Now, now, they will take himfrom me!" But that was not yet the end of the ceremony. The knights hadprepared many speeches to be spoken at the lowering of the coffin;meanwhile Father Kaminski ascended the pulpit,--the same who had beenin Hreptyoff frequently, and who in time of Basia's illness hadprepared her for death.
People in the church began to spit and cough, as is usual beforepreaching; then they were quiet, and all eyes were turned to thepulpit. The rattling of a drum was heard on the pulpit.
The hearers were astonished. Father Kaminski beat the drum as if foralarm; he stopped suddenly, and a deathlike silence followed. Then thedrum was heard a second and a third time; suddenly the priest threw thedrumsticks to the floor of the church, and called,--
"Pan Colonel Volodyovski!"
A spasmodic scream from Basi
a answered him. It became simply terriblein the church. Pan Zagloba rose, and aided by Mushalski bore out thefainting woman.
Meanwhile the priest continued: "In God's name, Pan Volodyovski, theyare beating the alarm! there is war, the enemy is in the land!--and doyou not spring up, seize your sabre, mount your horse? Have youforgotten your former virtue? Do you leave us alone with sorrow, withalarm?"
The breasts of the knights rose; and a universal weeping broke out inthe church, and broke out several times again, when the priest laudedthe virtue, the love of country, and the bravery of the dead man. Hisown words carried the preacher away. His face became pale; his foreheadwas covered with sweat; his voice trembled. Sorrow for the littleknight carried him away, sorrow for Kamenyets, sorrow for theCommonwealth, ruined by the hands of the followers of the Crescent; andfinally he finished his eulogy with this prayer:--
"O Lord, they will turn churches into mosques, and chant the Koran inplaces where till this time the Gospel has been chanted. Thou hast castus down, O Lord; Thou hast turned Thy face from us, and given us intothe power of the foul Turk. Inscrutable are Thy decrees; but who, OLord, will resist the Turk now? What armies will war with him on theboundaries? Thou, from whom nothing in the world is concealed,--Thouknowest best that there is nothing superior to our cavalry! Whatcavalry can move for Thee, O Lord, as ours can? Wilt Thou set asidedefenders behind whose shoulders all Christendom might glorify Thyname? O kind Father, do not desert us! show us Thy mercy! Send us adefender! Send a crusher of the foul Mohammedan! Let him come hither;let him stand among us; let him raise our fallen hearts! Send him, OLord!"
At that moment the people gave way at the door; and into the churchwalked the hetman, Pan Sobieski. The eyes of all were turned to him; aquiver shook the people; and he went with clatter of spurs to thecatafalque, lordly, mighty, with the face of a Caesar. An escort ofiron cavalry followed him.
"Salvator!" cried the priest, in prophetic ecstasy.
Sobieski knelt at the catafalque, and prayed for the soul ofVolodyovski.
EPILOGUE.
More than a year after the fall of Kamenyets, when the dissensions ofparties had ceased in some fashion, the Commonwealth came forth at lastin defence of its eastern boundaries; and it came forth offensively.The grand hetman, Sobieski, marched with thirty-one thousand cavalryand infantry to Hotin, in the Sultan's territory, to strike on theincomparably more powerful legions of Hussein Pasha, stationed at thatfortress.
The name of Sobieski had become terrible to the enemy. During the yearsucceeding the capture of Kamenyets the hetman accomplished so much,injured, the countless army of the Padishah to such a degree, crushedout so many chambuls, rescued such throngs of captives, that oldHussein, though stronger in the number of his men, though standing atthe head, of chosen cavalry, though aided by Kaplan Pasha, did not dareto meet the hetman in the open field, and decided to defend himself ina fortified camp.
The hetman surrounded that camp with his army; and it was knownuniversally that he intended to take it in an offensive battle. Somethought surely that it was an undertaking unheard of in the history ofwar to attack a superior with an inferior army when the enemy wasprotected by walls and trenches. Hussein had a hundred and twenty guns,while in the whole Polish camp there were only fifty. The Turkishinfantry was threefold greater in number than the power of the hetman;of janissaries alone, so terrible in hand-to-hand conflict, there wereeighty thousand. But the hetman believed in his star, in the magic ofhis name,--and finally in the men whom he led. Under him marchedregiments trained and tempered in fire,--men who had grown up fromyears of childhood in the bustle of war, who had passed through anuncounted number of expeditions, campaigns, sieges, battles. Many ofthem remembered the terrible days of Hmelnitski, of Zbaraj andBerestechko; many had gone through all the wars, Swedish, Prussian,Moscovite, civil, Danish, and Hungarian. With him were the escorts ofmagnates, formed of veterans only; there were soldiers from thestanitsas, for whom war had become what peace is for other men,--theordinary condition and course of life. Under the voevoda of Rus werefifteen squadrons of hussars,--cavalry considered, even by foreigners,as invincible; there were light squadrons, the very same at the head ofwhich the hetman had inflicted such disasters on detached Tartarchambuls after the fall of Kamenyets; there were finally the landinfantry, who rushed on janissaries with the butts of their muskets,without firing a shot.
War had reared those veterans, for it had reared whole generations inthe Commonwealth; but hitherto they had been scattered, or in theservice of opposing parties. Now, when internal agreement had summonedthem to one camp and one command, the hetman hoped to crush with suchsoldiers the stronger Hussein and the equally strong Kaplan. These oldsoldiers were led by trained men whose names were written more thanonce in the history of recent wars, in the changing wheel of defeatsand victories.
The hetman himself stood at the head of them all like a sun, anddirected thousands with his will; but who were the other leaders who atthis camp in Hotin were to cover themselves with immortal glory? Therewere the two Lithuanian hetmans,--the grand hetman, Pats, and the fieldhetman, Michael Kazimir Radzivill. These two joined the armies of thekingdom a few days before the battle, and now, at command of Sobieski,they took position on the heights which connected Hotin with Jvanyets.Twelve thousand warriors obeyed their commands; among these were twothousand chosen infantry. From the Dniester toward the south stood theallied regiments of Wallachia, who left the Turkish camp on the eve ofthe battle to join their strength with Christians. At the flank of theWallachians stood with his artillery Pan Kantski, incomparable in thecapture of fortified places, in the making of intrenchments, and thehandling of cannon. He had trained himself in foreign countries, butsoon excelled even foreigners. Behind Kantski stood Korytski's Russianand Mazovian infantry; farther on, the field hetman of the kingdom,Dmitri Vishnyevetski, cousin of the sickly king. He had under him thelight cavalry. Next to him, with his own squadron of infantry andcavalry, stood Pan Yendrei Pototski, once an opponent of the hetman,now an admirer of his greatness. Behind him and behind Korytski stood,under Pan Yablonovski, voevoda of Rus, fifteen squadrons of hussars inglittering armor, with helmets casting a threatening shade on theirfaces, and with wings at their shoulders. A forest of lances rearedtheir points above these squadrons; but the men were calm. They wereconfident in their invincible force, and sure that it would come tothem to decide the victory.
There were warriors inferior to these, not in bravery, but inprominence. There was Pan Lujetski, whose brother the Turks had slainin Bodzanoff; for this deed he had sworn undying vengeance. There wasPan Stefan Charnyetski, nephew of the great Stefan, and field secretaryof the kingdom. He, in time of the siege of Kamenyets, had been at thehead of a whole band of nobles at Golemb, as a partisan of the king,and had almost roused civil war; now he desired to distinguish himselfwith bravery. There was Gabriel Silnitski, who had passed all his lifein war, and age had already whitened his head; there were othervoevodas and castellans, less acquainted with previous wars, lessfamous, but therefore more greedy of glory.
Among the knighthood not clothed with senatorial dignity, illustriousabove others, was Pan Yan, the famous hero of Zbaraj, a soldier held upas a model to the knighthood. He had taken part in every war fought bythe Commonwealth during thirty years. His hair was gray; but six sonssurrounded him, in strength like six wild boars. Of these, four knewwar already, but the two younger had to pass their novitiate; hencethey were burning with such eagerness for battle that their father wasforced to restrain them with words of advice.
The officers looked with great respect on this father and his sons; butstill greater admiration was roused by Pan Yarotski, who, blind of botheyes, like the Bohemian king[31] Yan, joined the campaign. He hadneither children nor relatives; attendants led him by the arms; hehoped for no more than to lay down his life in battle, benefit hiscountry, and win glory. There too was Pan Rechytski, whose father andbrother fell during that year.
Ther
e also was Pan Motovidlo, who had escaped not long before fromTartar bondage, and gone to the field with Pan Myslishevski. The firstwished to avenge his captivity; the second, the injustice which he hadsuffered at Kamenyets, where, in spite of the treaty and his dignity ofnoble, he had been beaten with sticks by the janissaries. There wereknights of long experience from the stanitsas of the Dniester,--thewild Pan Rushchyts and the incomparable bowman, Mushalski, who hadbrought a sound head out of Kamenyets, because the little knight hadsent him to Basia with a message; there was Pan Snitko and PanNyenashinyets and Pan Hromyka, and the most unhappy of all, young PanAdam. Even his friends and relatives wished death to this man, forthere remained no consolation for him. When he had regained his health,Pan Adam exterminated chambuls for a whole year, pursuing LithuanianTartars with special animosity. After the defeat of Pan Motovidlo byKrychinski, he hunted Krychinski through all Podolia, gave him no rest,and troubled him beyond measure. During those expeditions he caughtAdurovich and flayed him alive; he spared no prisoners, but found norelief for his suffering. A month before the battle he joinedYablonovski's hussars.
This was the knighthood with which Pan Sobieski took his position atHotin. Those soldiers were eager to wreak vengeance for the wrongs ofthe Commonwealth in the first instance, but also for their own. Incontinual battles with the Pagans in that land soaked in blood, almostevery man had lost some dear one, and bore within him the memory ofsome terrible misfortune. The grand hetman hastened to battle then, forhe saw that rage in the hearts of his soldiers might be compared to therage of a lioness whose whelps reckless hunters have stolen from thethicket.
On Nov. 9, 1674, the affair was begun by skirmishes. Crowds of Turksissued from behind the walls in the morning; crowds of Polish knightshastened to meet them with eagerness. Men fell on both sides, but withgreater loss to the Turks. Only a few Turks of note or Poles fell,however. Pan May, in the very beginning of the skirmish, was pierced bythe curved sabre of a gigantic spahi; but the youngest son of Pan Yanwith one blow almost severed the head from that spahi. By this deed heearned the praise of his prudent father, and notable glory.
They fought in groups or singly. Those who were looking at the strugglegained courage; greater eagerness rose in them each moment. Meanwhile,detachments of the army were disposed around the Turkish camp, each inthe place pointed out by the hetman. Pan Sobieski, taking his positionon the old Yassy road, behind the infantry of Korytski, embraced withhis eyes the whole camp of Hussein; and on his face he had the serenecalmness which a master certain of his art has before he commences hislabor. From time to time he sent adjutants with commands; then withthoughtful glance he looked at the struggle of the skirmishers. Towardevening Pan Yablonovski, voevoda of Rus, came to him.
"The intrenchments are so extensive," said he, "that it is impossibleto attack from all sides simultaneously."
"To-morrow we shall be in the intrenchments; and after to-morrow weshall cut down those men in three quarters of an hour," said Sobieski,calmly.
Night came in the mean while. Skirmishers left the field. The hetmancommanded all divisions to approach the intrenchments in the darkness;this Hussein hindered as much as he could with guns of large calibre,but without result. Toward morning the Polish divisions moved forwardagain somewhat. The infantry began to throw up breastworks. Someregiments had pushed on to within a good musket-shot. The janissariesopened a brisk fire from muskets. At command of the hetman almost noanswer was given to these volleys, but the infantry prepared for anattack hand to hand. The soldiers were waiting only for the signal torush forward passionately. Over their extended line flew grapeshot withwhistling and noise like flocks of birds. Pan Kantski's artillery,beginning the conflict at daybreak, did not cease for one moment. Onlywhen the battle was over did it appear what great destruction itsmissiles had wrought falling in places covered most thickly with thetents of janissaries and spahis.
Thus passed the time until mid-day; but since the day was short, as themonth was November, there was need of haste. On a sudden all thetrumpets were heard, and drums, great and small. Tens of thousands ofthroats shouted in one voice; the infantry, supported by light cavalryadvancing near them, rushed in a dense throng to the onset.
They attacked the Turks at five points simultaneously. Yan Dennemarkand Christopher de Bohan, warriors of experience, led the foreignregiments. The first, fiery by nature, hurried forward so eagerly thathe reached the intrenchment before others, and came near destroying hisregiment, for he had to meet a salvo from several thousand muskets. Hefell himself. His soldiers began to waver; but at that moment De Bohancame to the rescue and prevented a panic. With a step as steady as ifon parade, and keeping time to the music, he passed the whole distanceto the Turkish intrenchment, answered salvo with salvo, and when thefosse was filled with fascines passed it first, under a storm ofbullets, inclined his cap to the janissaries, and pierced the firstbanneret with a sabre. The soldiers, carried away by the example ofsuch a colonel, sprang forward, and then began dreadful struggles inwhich discipline and training vied with the wild valor of thejanissaries.
But dragoons were led quickly from the direction of Taraban by Tetwinand Doenhoff; another regiment was led by Aswer Greben and Haydepol,all distinguished soldiers who, except Haydepol, had covered themselveswith great glory under Charnyetski in Denmark. The troops of theircommand were large and sturdy, selected from men on the royal domains,well trained to fighting on foot and on horseback. The gate wasdefended against them by irregular janissaries, who, though theirnumber was great, were thrown into confusion quickly and began toretreat; when they came to hand-to-hand conflict they defendedthemselves only when they could not find a place of escape. That gatewas captured first, and through it cavalry went first to the interiorof the camp.
At the head of the Polish land infantry Kobyletski, Jebrovski,Pyotrkovchyk, and Galetski struck the intrenchments in three otherplaces. The most tremendous struggle raged at the main gate, on theYassy road, where the Mazovians closed with the guard of Hussein Pasha.The vizir was concerned mainly with that gate, for through it thePolish cavalry might rush to the camp; hence he resolved to defend itmost stubbornly, and urged forward unceasingly detachments ofjanissaries. The land infantry took the gate at a blow, and thenstrained all their strength to retain it. Cannon-balls and a storm ofbullets from small arms pushed them back; from clouds of smoke newbands of Turkish warriors sprang forth to the attack every moment. PanKobyletski, not waiting till they came, rushed at them like a ragingbear; and two walls of men pressed each other, swaying backward andforward in close quarters, in confusion, in a whirl, in torrents ofblood, and on piles of human bodies. They fought with every manner ofweapon,--with sabres, with knives, with gunstocks, with shovels, withclubs, with stones; the crush became at moments so great, so terrible,that men grappled and fought with fists and with teeth. Hussein triedtwice to break the infantry with the impact of cavalry; but theinfantry fell upon him each time with such "extraordinary resolution"that the cavalry had to withdraw in disorder. Pan Sobieski took pity atlast on his men, and sent all the camp servants to help them.
At the head of these was Pan Motovidlo. This rabble, not employedusually in battle and armed with weapons of any kind, rushed forwardwith such desire that they roused admiration even in the hetman. It maybe that greed of plunder inspired them; perhaps the fire seized themwhich enlivened the whole army that day. It is enough that they struckthe janissaries as if they had been smoke, and overpowered them sosavagely that in the first onset they forced them back a musket-shot'slength from the gate. Hussein threw new regiments into the whirl ofbattle; and the struggle, renewed in the twinkle of an eye, lastedwhole hours. At last Korytski, at the head of chosen regiments, besetthe gate in force; the hussars from a distance moved like a great birdraising itself lazily to flight, and pushed toward the gate also.
At this time an adjutant rushed to the hetman from the Eastern side ofthe camp.
"The voevoda of Belsk is on the ramparts!" cried he, with pantingbreast.
After him came a second,--
"The hetmans of Lithuania are on the ramparts!"
After him came others, always with similar news. It had grown dark inthe world, but light was beaming from the face of the hetman. He turnedto Pan Bidzinski, who at that moment was near him, and said,--
"Next comes the turn of the cavalry; but that will be in the morning."
No one in the Polish or the Turkish army knew or imagined that thehetman intended to defer the general attack till the following morning.Nay, adjutants sprang to the captains with the command to be ready atany instant. The infantry stood in closed ranks; sabres and lances wereburning the hands of the cavalry. All were awaiting the orderimpatiently, for the men were chilled and hungry.
But no order came; meanwhile hours passed. The night became as black asmourning. Drizzling rain had set in at one o'clock in the day; butabout midnight a strong wind with frozen rain and snow followed. Gustsof it froze the marrow in men's bones; the horses were barely able tostand in their places; men were benumbed. The sharpest frost, if dry,could not be so bitter as that wind and snow, which cut like a scourge.In constant expectation of the signal, it was not possible to think ofeating and drinking or of kindling fires. The weather became moreterrible each hour. That was a memorable night,--"a night of tortureand gnashing of teeth." The voices of the captains--"Stand!stand!"--were heard every moment; and the soldiers, trained toobedience, stood in the greatest readiness without movement, andpatiently.
But in front of them, in rain, storm, and darkness, stood in equalreadiness the stiffened regiments of the Turks. Among them, too, no onekindled a fire, no one ate, no one drank. The attack of all the Polishforces might come at any moment, therefore the spahis could not droptheir sabres from their hands; the janissaries stood like a wall, withtheir muskets ready to fire. The hardy Polish soldiers, accustomed tothe sternness of winter, could pass such a night; but those men rearedin the mild climate of Rumelia, or amid the palms of Asia Minor, weresuffering more than their powers could endure. At last Husseindiscovered why Sobieski did not begin the attack. It was because thatfrozen rain was the best ally of the Poles. Clearly, if the spahis andjanissaries were to stand through twelve hours like those, the coldwould lay them down on the morrow as grain sheaves are laid. They wouldnot even try to defend themselves,--at least till the heat of thebattle should warm them.
Both Poles and Tartars understood this. About four o'clock in themorning two pashas came to Hussein,--Yanish Pasha and Kiaya Pasha, theleader of the janissaries, an old warrior of renown and experience. Thefaces of both were full of anxiety and care.
"Lord!" said Kiaya, first, "if my 'lambs' stand in this way tilldaylight, neither bullets nor swords will be needed against them."
"Lord!" said Yanish Pasha, "my spahis will freeze, and will not fightin the morning."
Hussein twisted his beard, foreseeing defeat for his army anddestruction to himself. But what was he to do? Were he to let his menbreak ranks for even a minute, or let them kindle fires to warmthemselves with hot food, the attack would begin immediately. As itwas, the trumpets were sounded at intervals near the ramparts, as ifthe cavalry were just ready to move.
Kiaya and Yanish Pasha saw only one escape from disaster,--that was,not to wait for the attack, but to strike with all force on the enemy.It was nothing that he was in readiness; for though ready to attack, hedid not expect attack himself. Perhaps they might drive him out of theintrenchments; in the worst event defeat was likely in a night battle,in the battle of the morrow it was certain.
But Hussein did not venture to follow the advice of the old warriors.
"How!" said he; "you have furrowed the camp-ground with ditches, seeingin them the one safeguard against that hellish cavalry,--that was youradvice and your precaution; now you say something different."
He did not give that order. He merely gave an order to fire fromcannon, to which Pan Kantski answered with great effect instantly. Therain became colder and colder, and cut more and more cruelly; the windroared, howled, went through clothing and skin, and froze the blood inmen's veins. So passed that long November night, in which the strengthof the warriors of Islam was failing, and despair, with a foreboding ofdefeat, seized hold of their hearts.
At the very dawn Yanish Pasha went once more to Hussein with advice towithdraw in order of battle to the bridge on the Dniester and beginthere the game of war cautiously. "For," said he, "if the troops do notwithstand the onrush of the cavalry, they will withdraw to the oppositebank, and the river will give them protection." Kiaya, the leader ofthe janissaries, was of another opinion, however. He thought it toolate for Yanish's advice, and moreover he feared lest a panic mightseize the whole army immediately, if the order were given to withdraw."The spahis with the aid of the irregular janissaries must sustain thefirst shock of the enemy's cavalry, even if all are to perish in doingso. By that time the janissaries will come to their aid, and when thefirst impetus of the unbelievers is stopped, perhaps God may sendvictory."
Thus advised, Kiaya and Hussein followed. Mounted multitudes of Turkspushed forward; the janissaries, regular and irregular, were disposedbehind them, around the tents of Hussein. Their deep ranks presented asplendid and fear-inspiring spectacle. The white-bearded Kiaya, "Lionof God," who till that time had led only to victory, flew past theirclose ranks, strengthening them, raising their courage, reminding themof past battles and their own unbroken preponderance. To them also,battle was sweeter than that idle waiting in storm and in rain, in windwhich was piercing them to the bone; hence, though they could barelygrasp the muskets and spears in their stiffened hands, they were stillcheered by the thought that they would warm them in battle. With farless desire did the spahis await the attack, because on them was tofall its first fury, because among them were many inhabitants of AsiaMinor and of Egypt, who, exceedingly sensitive to cold, were only halfliving after that night. The horses also suffered not a little, andthough covered with splendid caparisons, they stood with heads towardthe earth, puffing rolls of steam from their nostrils. The men withblue faces and dull eyes did not even think of victory. They werethinking only that death would be better than torment like that inwhich the last night had been passed by them, but best of all would beflight to their distant homes, beneath the hot rays of the sun.
Among the Polish troops a number of men without sufficient clothing haddied before day on the ramparts; in general, however, they endured thecold far better than the Turks, for the hope of victory strengthenedthem, and a faith, almost blind, that since the hetman had decided thatthey were to stiffen in the rain, the torment must come out infalliblyfor their good, and for the evil and destruction of the Turks. Still,even they greeted the first gleams of that morning with gladness.
At this same time Sobieski appeared at the battlements.
There was no brightness in the sky, but there was brightness on hisface; for when he saw that the enemy intended to give battle in thecamp he was certain that that day would bring dreadful defeat toMohammed. Hence he went from regiment to regiment, repeating: "For thedesecration of churches! for blasphemy against the Most Holy Lady inKamenyets! for injury to Christendom and the Commonwealth! forKamenyets!" The soldiers had a terrible look on their faces, as ifwishing to say: "We can barely restrain ourselves! Let us go, grandhetman, and you will see!"
The gray light of morning grew clearer and clearer; out of the fog rowsof horses' heads, forms of men, lances, banners, finally regiments ofinfantry, emerged more distinctly each moment. First they began to moveand advance in the fog toward the enemy, like two rivers, at the flanksof the cavalry; then the light horse moved, leaving only a broad roadin the middle, over which the hussars were to rush when the rightmoment came.
Every leader of a regiment in the infantry, every captain, hadinstructions and knew what to do. Pan Kantski's artillery began tospeak more profoundly, calling out from the Turkish side also stronganswers. Then musketry fire thundered, a mighty shout was heardthroughout the whole camp,--the attack had begu
n.
The misty air veiled the view, but sounds of the struggle reached theplace where the hussars were in waiting. The rattle of arms could beheard, and the shouting of men. The hetman, who till then had remainedwith the hussars, and was conversing with Pan Yablonovski, stopped on asudden and listened.
"The infantry are fighting with the irregular janissaries; those in thefront trenches are scattered," said he to the voevoda.
After a time, when the sound of musketry was failing, one mighty salvoroared up on a sudden; after it another very quickly. It was evidentthat the light squadrons had pushed back the spahis and were inpresence of the janissaries.
The grand hetman, putting spurs to his horse, rushed like lightning atthe head of some tens of men to the battle; the voevoda of Rus remainedwith the fifteen squadrons of hussars, who, standing in order, werewaiting only for the signal to spring forward and decide the fate ofthe struggle. They waited long enough after that; but meanwhile in thedepth of the camp it was seething and roaring more and more terribly.The battle seemed at times to roll on to the right, then to the left,now toward the Lithuanian armies, now toward the voevoda of Belsk,precisely as when in time of storm thunders roll over the sky. Theartillery-fire of the Turks was becoming irregular, while Pan Kantski'sbatteries played with redoubled vigor. After the course of an hour itseemed to the voevoda of Rus that the weight of the battle wastransferred to the centre, directly in front of his cavalry.
At that moment the grand hetman rushed up at the head of his escort.Flame was shooting from his eyes. He reined in his horse near thevoevoda of Rus, and exclaimed,--
"At them, now, with God's aid!"
"At them!" shouted the voevoda of Rus.
And after him the captains repeated the commands. With a terrible noisethat forest of lances dropped with one movement toward the heads of thehorses, and fifteen squadrons of that cavalry accustomed to crusheverything before it moved forward like a giant cloud.
From the time when, in the three days' battle at Warsaw, the Lithuanianhussars, under Prince Polubinski, split the whole Swedish army like awedge, and went through it, no one remembered an attack made with suchpower. Those squadrons started at a trot, but at a distance of twohundred paces the captains commanded: "At a gallop!" The men answering,with a shout, "Strike! Crush!" bent in the saddles, and the horses wentat the highest speed. Then that column, moving like a whirlwind, andformed of horses, iron men, and straightened lances, had in itsomething like the might of an element let loose. And it went like astorm, or a raging river, with roar and outburst. The earth groanedunder the weight of it; and if no man had levelled a lance or drawn asabre, it was evident that the hussars with their very weight andimpact would hurl down, trample, and break everything before them, justas a column of wind breaks and crushes a forest. They swept on in thisway to the bloody field, covered with bodies, on which the battle wasraging. The light squadrons were still struggling on the wings with theTurkish cavalry, which they had succeeded in pushing to the rearconsiderably, but in the centre the deep ranks of the janissaries stoodlike an indestructible wall. A number of times the light squadrons hadbroken themselves against that wall, as a wave rolling on breaks itselfagainst a rocky shore. To crush and destroy it was now the task of thehussars.
A number of thousand of muskets thundered, "as if one man had fired." Amoment more the janissaries fix themselves more firmly on their feet;some blink at sight of the terrible onrush; the hands of some aretrembling while holding their spears; the hearts of all are beatinglike hammers, their teeth are set, their breasts are breathingconvulsively. The hussars are just on them; the thundering breath ofthe horses is heard. Destruction, annihilation, death, are flying atthem.
"Allah!" "Jesus, Mary!"--these two shouts meet and mingle as terriblyas if they had never burst from men's breasts till that moment. Theliving wall trembles, bends, breaks. The dry crash of broken lancesdrowns for a time every other sound; after that, is heard the bite ofiron, the sound, as it were, of thousands of hammers beating with fullforce on anvils, as of thousands of flails on a floor, and cries singlyand collectively, groans, shouts, reports of pistols and guns, thehowling of terror. Attackers and attacked mingle together, rolling inan unimaginable whirl. A slaughter follows; from under the chaos bloodflows, warm, steaming, filling the air with raw odor.
The first, second, third, and tenth rank of the janissaries are lyinglike a pavement, trampled with hoofs, pierced with spears, cut withswords. But the white-bearded Kiaya, "Lion of God," hurls all his meninto the boiling of the battle. It is nothing that they are put downlike grain before a storm. They fight! Rage seizes them; they breathedeath; they desire death. The column of horses' breasts pushes them,bends, overturns them. They open the bellies of horses with theirknives; thousands of sabres cut them without rest; blades rise likelightning and fall on their heads, shoulders, and hands. They cut ahorseman on the legs, on the knees; they wind around, and bite likevenomous worms; they perish and avenge themselves. Kiaya, "Lion ofGod," hurls new ranks again and again into the jaws of death. Heencourages them to battle with a cry, and with curved sabre erect herushes into the chaos himself. With that a gigantic hussar, destroyinglike a flame everything before him, falls on the white-bearded old man,and standing in his stirrups to hew the more terribly, brings down withan awful sweep a two-handed sword on the gray head. Neither the sabrenor the headpiece forged in Damascus are proof against the blow; andKiaya, cleft almost to the shoulders, falls to the ground, as if struckby lightning.
Pan Adam, for it was he, had already spread dreadful destruction, forno one could withstand the strength and sullen rage of the man; but nowhe had given the greatest service by hewing down the old hero, whoalone had supported the stubborn battle. The janissaries shouted in aterrible voice on seeing the death of their leader, and more than tenof them aimed muskets at the breast of the cavalier. He turned towardthem like dark night; and before other hussars could strike them, theshots roared, Pan Adam reined in his horse and bent in the saddle. Twocomrades seized him by the shoulders; but a smile, a guest longunknown, lighted his gloomy face, his eyeballs turned in his head, andhis white lips whispered words which in the din of battle no man coulddistinguish. Meanwhile the last ranks of the janissaries wavered.
The valiant Yanish Pasha tried to renew the battle, but the terror ofpanic had seized on his men; efforts were useless. The ranks werebroken and shivered, pushed back, beaten, trampled, slashed; they couldnot come to order. At last they burst, as an overstrained chain bursts,and like single links men flew from one another in every direction,howling, shouting, throwing down their weapons, and covering theirheads with their hands. The cavalry pursue them; and they, not findingspace sufficient for flight singly, gather at times into a dense mass,on whose shoulders ride the cavalry, swimming in blood. Pan Mushalski,the bowman, struck the valiant Yanish Pasha such a sabre-blow on theneck that his spinal marrow gushed forth and stained his silk shirt andthe silver scales on his armor.
The irregular janissaries, beaten by the Polish infantry, and a part ofthe cavalry which was scattered in the very beginning of the battle, infact, a whole Turkish throng, fled now to the opposite side of thecamp, where there was a rugged ravine some tens of feet deep. Terrordrove the mad men to that place. Many rushed over the precipice, "notto escape death, but death at the hands of the Poles." Pan Bidzinskiblocked the road to this despairing throng; but the avalanche offugitives tore him away with it, and threw him to the bottom of theprecipice, which after a time was filled almost to the top with pilesof slain, wounded, and suffocated men.
From this place rose terrible groans; bodies were quivering, kickingone another, or clawing with their fingers in the spasms of death.Those groans were heard until evening; until evening those bodies weremoving, but more and more slowly, less and less noticeably, till atdark there was silence.
Awful were the results of the blow of the hussars. Eight thousandjanissaries, slain with swords, lay near the ditch surrounding thetents of Hussein Pasha, not counting those
who perished in the flight,or at the foot of the precipice. The Polish cavalry were in the tents;Pan Sobieski had triumphed. The trumpets were raising the hoarse soundsof victory, when the battle raged up again on a sudden.
After the breaking of the janissaries the vizir, Hussein Pasha, at thehead of his mounted guards and of all that were left of the cavalry,fled through the gate leading to Yassy; but when the squadrons ofDmitri Vishnyevetski, the field hetman, caught him outside and began tohew without mercy, he turned back to the camp to seek escape elsewhere,just as a wild beast surrounded in a forest looks for some outlet. Heturned with such speed that he scattered in a moment the light squadronof Cossacks, put to disorder the infantry, occupied partly inplundering the camp, and came within "half a pistol-shot" of the hetmanhimself.
"In the very camp," wrote Pan Sobieski, afterward, "we were neardefeat, the avoidance of which should be ascribed to the extraordinaryresolution of the hussars."
In fact, the pressure of the Turks was tremendous, produced as it wasunder the influence of utter despair, and the more terrible that it wasentirely unexpected; but the hussars, not cooled yet after the heat ofbattle, rushed at them on the spot, with the greatest vigor.Prusinovski's squadron moved first, and that brought the attackersto a stand; after it rushed Pan Yan with his men, then the wholearmy,--cavalry, infantry, camp-followers,--every one as he was, everyone where he was,--all rushed with the greatest rage on the enemy, andthere was a battle, somewhat disordered, but not yielding in fury tothe attack of the hussars on the janissaries.
When the struggle was over the knights remembered with wonder thebravery of the Turks, who, attacked by Vishnyevetski and the hetmans ofLithuania, surrounded on all sides, defended themselves so madly thatthough Sobieski permitted the Poles to take prisoners then, they wereable to seize barely a handful of captives. When the heavy squadronsscattered them at last, after half an hour's battle, single groups andlater single horsemen fought to the last breath, shouting, "Allah!"Many glorious deeds were done, the memory of which has not perishedamong men. The field hetman of Lithuania cut down a powerful pasha whohad slain Pan Rudomina, Pan Kimbar, and Pan Rdultovski; but the hetman,coming to him unobserved, cut off his head at a blow. Pan Sobieski slewin presence of the army a spahi who had fired a pistol at him. PanBidzinski, escaping from the ravine by some miracle, though bruised andwounded, threw himself at once into the whirl of battle, and foughttill he fainted from exhaustion. He was sick long, but after somemonths recovered his health, and went again to the field, with greatglory to himself.
Of men less known Pan Rushchyts raged most, taking off horsemen as awolf seizes sheep from a flock. Pan Yan on his part worked wonders;around him his sons fought like young lions. With sadness and gloom didthese knights think afterward of what that swordsman above swordsmen,Pan Michael, would have done on such a day, were it not that for a yearhe had been in the earth resting in God and in glory. But others,taught in his school, gained sufficient renown for him and themselveson that bloody field.
Two of the old knights of Hreptyoff fell in that renewed battle, PanMotovidlo and the terrible bowman, Mushalski. A number of balls piercedthe breast of Motovidlo simultaneously, and he fell as an oak falls,which has come to its time. Eye-witnesses said that he fell by the handof those Cossack brothers who under the lead of Hohol had struggled tothe last against their mother (Poland) and Christendom. Pan Mushalski,wonderful to relate, perished by an arrow, which some fleeing Turk hadsent after him. It passed through his throat just in the moment when,at the perfect defeat of the Pagans, he was reaching his hand to thequiver, to send fresh, unerring messengers of death in pursuit of thefugitives. But his soul had to join the soul of Didyuk, so that thefriendship begun on the Turkish galley might endure with the bonds ofeternity. The old comrades of Hreptyoff found the three bodies afterthe battle and took farewell tearfully, though they envied them theglorious death. Pan Adam had a smile on his lips, and calm serenity onhis face; Pan Motovidlo seemed to be sleeping quietly; and PanMushalski had his eyes raised, as if in prayer. They were buriedtogether on that glorious field of Hotin under the cliff on which, tothe eternal memory of the day, their three names were cut out beneath across.
The leader of the whole Turkish army, Hussein Pasha, escaped on a swiftAnatolian steed, but only to receive in Stambul a silk string from thehands of the Sultan. Of the splendid Turkish army merely small bandswere able to bear away sound heads from defeat. The last legions ofHussein Pasha's cavalry gave themselves into the hands of the armies ofthe Commonwealth. In this way the field hetman drove them to the grandhetman, and he drove them to the Lithuanian hetmans, they again to thefield hetman; so the turn went till nearly all of them had perished. Ofthe janissaries almost no man escaped. The whole immense camp wasstreaming with blood, mixed with snow and rain. So many bodies werelying there that only frost, ravens, and wolves prevented a pestilence,which comes usually from bodies decaying. The Polish troops fell intosuch ardor of battle that without drawing breath well after thevictory, they captured Hotin. In the camp itself immense booty wastaken. One hundred and twenty guns and with them three hundred flagsand banners did Pan Sobieski take from that field, on which for thesecond time in the course of a century the Polish sabre celebrated agrand triumph.
Pan Sobieski himself stood in the tent of Hussein Pasha, which wassparkling with rubies and gold, and from it he sent news of thefortunate victory to every side by swift couriers. Then cavalry andinfantry assembled; all the squadrons,--Polish, Lithuanian, andCossack,--the whole army, stood in order of battle. A Thanksgiving Masswas celebrated, and on that same square where the day previous muezzinshad cried: "La Allah illa Allah!" was sounded "Te Deum laudamus!"
The hetman, lying in the form of a cross, heard Mass and the hymn; andwhen he rose, tears of joy were flowing down his worthy face. At sightof that the legions of knights, the blood not yet wiped from them, andwhile still trembling from their efforts in battle, gave out threetimes the loud thundering shout:--
"Vivat Joannes victor!"
Ten years later, when the Majesty of King Yan III. (Sobieski) hurled tothe dust the Turkish power at Vienna, that shout was repeated from seato sea, from mountain to mountain, throughout the world, wherever bellscalled the faithful to prayer.
Here ends this series of books, written in the course of a number ofyears and with no little toil, for the strengthening of hearts.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: "With Fire and Sword," page 4.]
[Footnote 2: The bishop who visited Zagloba at Ketling's house, seepages 121-126.]
[Footnote 3: A celebrated bishop of Cracow, famous for ambition andsuccess.]
[Footnote 4: A diminutive of endearment for Anna. Anusia is anotherform.]
[Footnote 5: One of the chiefs of a confederacy formed against theking, Yan Kazimir, by soldiers who had not received their pay.]
[Footnote 6: The story in Poland is that storks bring all the infantsto the country.]
[Footnote 7: This refers to the axelike form of the numeral 7.]
[Footnote 8: Diminutive of Barbara.]
[Footnote 9: Diminutive of Krystina, or Christiana.]
[Footnote 10: Drohoyovski is Parma Krysia's family name.]
[Footnote 11: A diminutive of Anna, expressing endearment.]
[Footnote 12: To place a water-melon in the carriage of a suitor wasone way of refusing him.]
[Footnote 13: "Kot" means "cat," hence Basia's exclamations are, "Scot,Scot! cat, cat!"]
[Footnote 14: In Polish, "I love" is one word, "Kocham."]
[Footnote 15: In the original this forms a rhymed couplet.]
[Footnote 16: That is let me kiss you.]
[Footnote 17: Injured his head.]
[Footnote 18: The Tsar's city,--Constantinople.]
[Footnote 19: Zagloba refers here to Pavel Sapyeha, voevoda of Vilna,and grand hetman of Lithuania.]
[Footnote 20: Poland.]
[Footnote 21: God is merciful! God is merciful.]
[Footnote 23: The Commonwealth.]
[Footnote 24: That means as tall as a stove. The tile or porcelainstores of eastern Europe are very high.]
[Footnote 25: A barber in that age and in those regions took the placeof a surgeon usually.]
[Footnote 26: Each nearly equal to five English miles.]
[Footnote 27: A hot drink made of gorailka, honey, and spices.]
[Footnote 28: Motovidlo's words are Russian in the original.]
[Footnote 29: See note after introduction.]
[Footnote 30: Hero.]
[Footnote 31: More likely Yan Zisca, the great leader of the Hussites.]
THE END.
Pan Michael: An Historical Novel of Poland, the Ukraine, and Turkey Page 58
