CHAPTER XXXIII.
Pan Yan rode at the head of the prince's squadrons, but to Zbarajinstead of Tarnopol, for a new order had come to march to the latterplace; and on the road he told his faithful attendant his ownadventures,--how he had been taken in captivity at the Saitch, how longhe had remained there, and how much he had suffered before Hmelnitskihad liberated him. They advanced slowly; for though they had no trainsor baggage, their road lay through a country which was so ruined thatthe greatest exertions were necessary to obtain provisions for men andhorses. In places they met crowds of famished people, especially womenand children, who implored God for death or Tartar captivity; for then,though in bonds, they would be fed. And still it was harvest time inthat rich land flowing with milk and honey; but the parties of Krivonoshad destroyed everything that could be destroyed, and the remnant ofthe inhabitants fed themselves on the bark of the trees. Near Yampolthey first entered a country which was not so much injured by war, andhaving had more rest and provisions in plenty, they went with hurriedmarch to Zbaraj, where they arrived in five days after leavingSukhojintsi.
There was a great concourse in Zbaraj. Prince Yeremi was there with hiswhole army, and besides him no small number of soldiers and nobles hadcome. War hung in the air, nothing else was mentioned; the town andneighborhood were swarming with armed men. The peace party in Warsaw,maintained in its hopes by Pan Kisel, the voevoda of Bratslav, had notgiven up, it is true, negotiations, and continued to believe that itwould be possible to allay the storm with them; still they understoodthat negotiations could have results only when there was a powerfularmy to support them. The Diet of convocation was held therefore amidstthe threatenings and thunderings of war such as usually precede anoutbreak. The general militia was called out, and enlisted soldierswere concentrated; and though the chancellor and commanders stillbelieved in peace, the war feeling was predominant in the minds of thenobles. The victories won by Prince Yeremi fired the imagination. Theminds of men were burning with a desire for vengeance on the peasants,and a desire to pay back for Joltiya Vodi and Korsun, for the blood ofso many thousands who had died martyrs' deaths, for the disgrace andhumiliation. The name of the terrible prince was bright with thesunlight of glory,--it was on every lip, in every heart; and togetherwith that name was heard, from the shores of the Baltic to theWilderness, the ominous word "War!"
War! War! Signs in the heavens announced it also, the excited faces ofthe populace, the glittering of swords, the nightly howling of dogsbefore the cottages, and the neighing of horses, catching the odor ofblood. War! Escutcheoned men through all the lands and districts andhouses and villages drew out their old armor and swords from thestorehouses. The youths sang songs about Yeremi; the women prayedbefore altars; and armored men were marching to the field in Prussiaand Livonia as well as in Great Poland and populous Mazovia, and awayto God's own Carpathian peaks, and the dark pine forests of Beskid.
War lay in the nature of things. The plundering movement of theZaporojie and the popular uprising of the Ukraine mob demanded somehigher watchwords than slaughter and robbery, than a struggle againstserfdom and the land-grabbing of magnates. Hmelnitski knew this well,and taking advantage of the slumbering irritation from mutual abusesand oppressions, of which there was never a lack in those harsh times,he changed a social into a religious struggle, kindled popularfanaticism, and dug in the very beginning between the two camps anabyss which could be filled neither with parchments nor negotiations,but only with blood.
Wishing for negotiations from his soul, he wished them only to securehis own power; but afterward--what was to be afterward the Zaporojianhetman did not think; he did not look into the future and had no carefor it. He did not know, however, that that abyss which he had createdwas so great that no negotiations could fill it, at least in such atime as he, Hmelnitski, could demand. The quick politician did notguess that he would not be able to enjoy in peace the bloody fruits ofhis life; and still it was easy to understand that when the armedlegions should stand before each other, the parchment for theinscription of treaties would be the field, and the pens, swords andlances.
Events tended, by the force of things, toward war; and even ordinarypeople, led by instinct alone, felt that it could not be otherwise; andthroughout the whole Commonwealth the eyes of men were turned more andmore to Yeremi, who from the beginning had proclaimed a war of life anddeath. In the shadow of his gigantic figure the chancellor, the voevodaof Bratslav, and the commanders were more and more effaced, and amongthem the powerful Prince Dominik, formal commander-in-chief. Theirimportance drooped, and obedience to their government decreased. Thearmy and the nobles were ordered to march to Lvoff and then toGliniani, which they did accordingly in larger and larger divisions.The regular troops assembled, and after them men of the nearestprovinces; but immediately fresh events began to threaten the authorityof the Commonwealth. Now not only the less disciplined squadrons of themilitia, not only the private troops, but the regular soldiers when atthe place of muster refused obedience to the commanders, and indefiance of orders marched to Zbaraj to place themselves under thecommand of Yeremi. This was done first by the nobles of Kieff andBratslav, who had previously served in large part under Yeremi. Theywere followed by the nobles of Rus and Lubelsk, and these by the troopsof the Crown, and it was not difficult to understand that all wouldfollow in their steps.
Yeremi, who had been slighted, neglected by design, was becoming, bythe force of things, the hetman and supreme leader of all the power ofthe Commonwealth. The nobles and the army, devoted to him soul andbody, waited only for his nod. Authority, war, peace, the future of theCommonwealth, rested in his hands. Each day he grew, for each day newsquadrons marched to him, and he was becoming so gigantic that hisshadow began to fall not only on the chancellor and the commanders, buton the Senate, on Warsaw, and the whole Commonwealth.
In circles hostile to him, those of the chancellor at Warsaw and in thecamp of the commander-in-chief, in the suite of Prince Dominik, andaround the voevoda of Bratslav, they began to mutter against hismeasureless ambition and pride; the affair of Gadyach was mentioned,when the insolent prince came with four thousand men to Warsaw, andentering the Senate, was ready to hew down all, not excepting the kinghimself.
"What might not be expected from such a man, and what must he be nowafter that Xenophontine return from the Trans-Dnieper, after all thosemilitary advantages and victories which had given him such an immensereputation? To what unendurable haughtiness must that favor of thesoldiers and the nobles raise him? Who will stand against him to-day?What will become of the Commonwealth in which one citizen rises to suchpower that he can trample upon the will of the Senate, and snatch awaytheir authority from the leaders appointed by the Commonwealth? Does heintend really to decorate Prince Karl with the crown? He is Marius, itis true; but God grant that he become not a Coriolanus or a Catiline,for he is equal to both in ambition and pride."
Thus did they speak in Warsaw and in military circles, especially inthe suite of Prince Dominik, the rivalry between whom and Yeremi hadcaused no little damage to the Commonwealth. But that Marius wassitting that moment at Zbaraj, gloomy, unconsulted. Recent victoriesgave no light to his countenance. Whenever some new squadron ofregulars or district militia appeared at Zbaraj he went out to see it,determined its value at a glance, and immediately fell into musing.Soldiers gathered around him with shouts, fell on their knees beforehim, crying: "Hail, invincible chief, Slavonic Hercules! We will standby thee to the death." But he answered: "My respects to you, gentlemen!We are all soldiers of Christ, and I am too insignificant in rank to bethe steward of your blood;" and he returned to his quarters, fled frommen, struggled in solitude with his thoughts. In this way whole dayspassed.
Meanwhile the town was in a tumult with swarm after swarm of newtroops. The militia drank from morning till night; walking along thestreets, they raised quarrels and disputes with officers of foreignlevy. The regular soldiers, feeling also the reins of disciplinerelaxed, in
dulged in eating, drinking, and play. Every day there werenew guests; consequently new feasts and amusements with the young womenof Zbaraj. The troops crammed every street, were stationed too in theneighboring villages; and what a variety of horses, arms, uniforms,plumes, chain armor, and steel caps,--uniforms of various provinces! Itseemed like a general carnival to which half the Commonwealth had come.At one moment dashes in a carriage of some magnate, gilt or purple,drawn by six or eight plumed horses; ahead of it outriders in Hungarianor German liveries; attending it household janissaries, Cossacks orTartars. At another some legionaries appear glittering in velvet orsatin without armor, and thrust apart the crowds with their Anatolianor Persian steeds. The plumes of their caps and brooches at their necksare glittering with brilliants and rubies, but all make way for them insign of respect. Here before a balcony stands an officer of the countryinfantry, with fresh, bright collar, a long staff in his hand, pride inhis face, a village heart in his breast; farther on glitter the risinghelmets of the dragoons, the caps of the German infantry, lynx-skincaps of the militia; servants on errands squirm about as if in hotwater. Here and there the streets are packed with wagons; in one placethe wagons enter, squeaking mercilessly; every place is full of shouts,and cries of "Out of the road!"--curses of servants, disputes, fights,neighing of horses. The narrower streets are packed to such a degreewith hay and straw that it is impossible to squeeze through.
Amidst this multitude of bright uniforms glittering with all the colorsof the rainbow, amidst velvet and cloths and shining satin glitteringwith brilliants, how strangely appear the regiments of the prince,haggard, tattered, emaciated, with rusty armor, faded and tornuniforms! Soldiers of the best regiments looked like wanderingminstrels, worse than the attendants from other commands; but all bowbefore these rags, before this rust and shabbiness, for they are thebanners of heroes. War is a cruel mother; like Saturn, she devours herown children, and whom she does not devour, she gnaws as a dog gnawsbones. Those faded uniforms signify stormy nights, marches amidst therage of the elements or the burning of the sun; that rust on the steelmeans the unwiped blood of the man himself, of the enemy, or bothtogether. So the Vishnyevetski men had the first place everywhere. Theywere the story-tellers in the taverns and the quarters, and others werelisteners. Sometimes a spasm would seize one of the listeners, andstriking his hands on his hips, he would say, "May the bullets strikeyou, for you are devils, not men!" But they would answer, "Not ours themerit, but the leader's, whose like the round of the earth has notshown to this day." All feasts therefore ended in shouts: "VivatYeremi! Vivat the prince voevoda, the leader of leaders, the hetman ofhetmans!"
The nobles, after they had drunk awhile, would rush out on the streetsand fire guns and muskets. The prince's men warned them that theirfreedom was but for a time,--that a moment would come when the princewould take them in hand and enforce discipline such as they had neverheard of. They took advantage of the opportunity all the more. "Let usrejoice while we are free," they cried. "When the time for obediencecomes we will listen, for we have some one to obey who is not _baby_nor _Latin_ nor _feather-bed_." And the unfortunate Prince Dominikalways came out worst, for the soldiers' tongues ground him to bran.They said that he prayed whole days, and in the evening hung to thehandle of a mug, spat on his stomach, and with one eye open inquired,"What is that?" They said also that he took "jalap" at night, and thathe saw as many battles as there were depicted on his carpet by Dutchart. No one defended him any longer, and no one pitied him; and thosewho were in open opposition to military discipline attacked him mostsavagely.
But all were surpassed by Zagloba, with his satire and ridicule. He hadalready recovered from the pain in his back, and was now in hiselement. How much he ate and drank it is vain to describe, for thething passes human belief. Crowds of nobles followed and surrounded himcontinually, and he related, talked, and bantered with those whoentertained him; he looked down, as an old soldier, on those who weregoing to war, and said to them, with all the pride of experience,--
"Gentlemen, you know as much about the hardships of war as a nun doesof marriage. You have fresh clothes, and perfumed, the odor of which,though pleasant, I shall try in the first battle to keep on the leeside of me. The man who has not snuffed military garlic does not knowhow it draws tears. No one will bring you, gentlemen, your mug of hotbeer of a morning, or your wine punch. The stomach will fall away fromyou, and you will shrink up like a pancake in the sun. Believe me,experience is the foundation of everything. I have been in manystraits, and have captured more than one flag; but I must tell you,gentlemen, that none came to me with such difficulty as that atKonstantinoff. The devil take those Zaporojians! Seven sweats, I tellyou, gentlemen, came out of me before I seized the flag-staff. You mayask Pan Yan, who killed Burdabut; he saw it with his own eyes, andadmired the deed. But now all you have to do is to shout in the ear ofany Cossack 'Zagloba!' and you will see what he will tell you. But whydo I talk to you, who only know how to kill flies on the walls with thepalms of your hands?"
"But how was it,--how?" asked a crowd of young men.
"Well, gentlemen, do you want my tongue to get red-hot with turning inmy mouth, like an axle in a wagon?"
"Then you must pour wine around it," said the nobles.
"We might do that," answered Zagloba; and glad to find gratefullisteners, he told them all, from the journey to Galats and the flightfrom Rozlogi, to the capture of the banner at Konstantinoff. Theylistened with open mouths. Sometimes they murmured when, glorifying hisown bravery, he presumed too much on their lack of experience; but hewas invited and entertained each day in a new place.
The time was passed, then, in pleasure and tumult at Zbaraj, till oldZatsvilikhovski and others of a more serious turn wondered that theprince suffered these feasts so long. But Yeremi remained in his ownquarters. It was evident that he gave rein to the soldiers, so that allmight taste every enjoyment before new conflicts. Skshetuski arrivednow, and dropped as it were at once into a whirlpool of boiling water.He wanted rest in the circle of his companions; but still more did hewish to visit Bar,--to go to his loved one, and forget all his pasttroubles, all his fears and sufferings, in her embrace. He appearedbefore the prince therefore without delay, to report on his expeditionto Zaslav and obtain leave of absence.
He found the prince changed beyond recognition, so that he wasastonished at his appearance, and asked in his mind: "Is this the chiefwhom I saw at Makhnovka and Konstantinoff?" For there stood before hima man bent with the burden of care, with sunken eyes and shrivelledlips, as if suffering from a grievous internal disease. When asked forhis health he answered briefly and dryly that he was well, so theknight did not dare inquire further. Having made his report, he beganimmediately to ask for two months' absence from the squadron, that hemight marry and take his wife to Skshetushevo.
On hearing this the prince woke as it were from sleep. The expressionof kindness habitual to him reappeared on his gloomy face, andembracing Pan Yan, he said,--
"This is the end of your suffering. Go, go! May God bless you! I shouldlike to be at your wedding myself, for I owe that to Kurtsevichovna, asthe daughter of Vassily, and to you as a friend; but at this time it isimpossible for me to move. When do you wish to start?"
"To-day, if I could, your Highness."
"Then set out to-morrow. You cannot go alone. I will give you threehundred of Vershul's Tartars to bring her home in safety. You will goquickest with them, and you will need them, for bands of ruffians arewandering about. I will give you a letter to Andrei Pototski; butbefore I write to him, before the Tartars come, and before you areready, it will be to-morrow evening."
"As your Highness commands. I make bold to request further thatVolodyovski and Podbipienta go with me."
"Very well. Come again to-morrow morning for my farewell and ablessing. I should like also to send your princess a present. She is ofa noted family. You will both be happy, because you are worthy of eachother."
The knight knelt and embraced the knees of hi
s beloved chief, whorepeated several times,--
"God make you happy! God make you happy! But come again to-morrowmorning."
Still the knight did not go; he lingered as if wishing to ask forsomething else. At last he broke out: "Your Highness!"
"And what more do you say?" asked the prince, mildly.
"Pardon my boldness, but--my heart is cut, and from sorrow comes greatboldness. What affects your Highness? Does trouble weigh you down, oris it disease?"
The prince put his hand on Skshetuski's head. "You cannot know this,"said he, with sweetness in his voice. "Come to-morrow morning."
Skshetuski rose and went out with a straitened heart.
In the evening old Zatsvilikhovski came to Skshetuski's quarters, andwith him little Volodyovski, Pan Longin, and Zagloba. They took theirseats at the table, and Jendzian came into the room bearing a keg andglasses.
"In the name of Father and Son!" cried Zagloba. "I see that your manhas risen from the dead."
Jendzian approached, and embraced Zagloba's knees. "I have not risenfrom the dead, for I did not die, thanks to you for saving me."
Then Skshetuski added: "And afterward he was in Bogun's service."
"Oh, that fellow would find promotion in hell," said Zagloba. Then,turning to Jendzian, he said: "You couldn't have found much joy in thatservice; here is a thaler for pleasure."
"Thank you humbly," said Jendzian.
"He," cried Pan Yan, "is a perfect rogue. He bought plunder of theCossacks. You and I couldn't purchase what he has now, even if you wereto sell all your estates in Turkey."
"Is that true?" asked Zagloba. "Keep my thaler for yourself, and growup, precious sapling; for if you'll not serve for a crucifix, you willserve at least for a gallows-tree. The fellow has a good eye." HereZagloba caught Jendzian by the ear, and pulling it, continued: "I likerogues, and I prophesy that you will come out a man, if you don'tremain a beast. And how does your master Bogun speak of you, hi?"
Jendzian smiled, for the words and caress flattered him, and answered;"Oh, my master, when he speaks of you, he strikes fire with his teeth."
"Oh, go to the devil!" cried Zagloba, in sudden anger. "What are youraving about?"
Jendzian went out. They began to discuss the journey of the morrow, andthe great happiness which was awaiting Pan Yan. Mead soon improvedZagloba's humor; he began to talk to Skshetuski, and hint ofchristenings, and again of the passion of Pan Andrei Pototski for theprincess. Pan Longin sighed. They drank, and were glad with their wholesouls. Finally the conversation touched upon military events and theprince. Skshetuski, who had not been in the camp for many days,asked,--
"Tell me, gentlemen, what has happened to our prince? He is somehowanother man; I cannot understand it. God has given him victory aftervictory. They passed him by in the command. What of that? The wholearmy is rushing to him now, so that he will be hetman without any one'sfavor, and will destroy Hmelnitski; but it is evident that he suffers,and suffers from something--"
"Perhaps the gout is taking hold of him," said Zagloba, "Sometimes whenit gets a pull at me in the great toe, I am despondent for three daysat a time."
"I tell you, brothers," said Podbipienta, nodding his head, "I haven'theard this myself from the priest Mukhovetski, but I heard that he toldsome one why the prince is so tormented--I do not say this myself; heis a kindly man, good, and a great warrior,--why should I judge him?But since the priest says so--but do I know that it is so?"
"Just look, gentlemen, at this Lithuanian!" cried Zagloba. "Am I notright in making fun of him, since he doesn't know human speech? Whatdid you wish to say? You circle round and round, like a rabbit abouther nest, but cannot come to a point."
"What did you really hear?" asked Skshetuski.
"Well, since for that--they say that the prince has shed too muchblood. He is a great leader, but knows no measure in punishment, andnow sees, it seems, everything red,--red in the daytime, red at night,as if a red cloud were surrounding him--"
"Don't talk nonsense!" shouted Zatsvilikhovski, with rage. "Those areold wives' tales. There was no better master for the rabble in time ofpeace; and as to his knowing no mercy for rebels,--well, what of that?That is a merit, not an offence. What torments, what punishments, wouldbe too great for those who have deluged the country in blood, who havegiven their own people captive to Tartars, who know neither God, king,country, nor authorities? Where will you show me such monsters as they,where such cruelties as they have perpetrated on women and littlechildren? Where can you find such criminal wretches? For them theempaling stake and the gallows are too much. Tfu, tfu! You have an ironhand, but a woman's heart. I saw how you whined, when they were burningPulyan, that you would rather have killed him on the spot. But theprince is no old woman; he knows how to reward and how to punish. Whatis the use of telling me such nonsense?"
"But I have said, father, that I don't know," explained Pan Longin.
The old man puffed for a long time yet, and smoothing his milk-whitehair, muttered: "Red, h'm! red,--that's news. In the head of him whoinvented that it is green, and not red!"
A moment of silence followed, but through the windows came the uproarof the revelling nobles. Little Volodyovski broke the silence reigningin the room.
"Well, father, what do you think can be the matter with our prince?"
"H'm!" said the old man, "I am not his confidant, therefore I do notknow. He is thinking of something, he is struggling with himself,--ahot battle of some kind,--it cannot be otherwise; and the greater thesoul, the fiercer the torture."
The old knight was not mistaken; for in that same hour the prince, theleader, the conqueror, lay in the dust in his own quarters, before thecrucifix, and was fighting one of the most desperate battles of hislife.
The guards at the castle of Zbaraj called out midnight, but Yeremi wasstill conversing with God and with his own lofty soul. Reason,conscience, love of country, pride, perception of his own power andgreat destiny, were turned into combatants within his breast, andfought a stubborn battle with one another, from which his breast wasbursting, his head was bursting, and pain contorted all his limbs. Now,in spite of the primate, the chancellor, the senate, the generals,against the will of the government, the regular soldiers, the nobles,the foreign troops in private service, were going over to thatconqueror,--in one word, the whole Commonwealth was placing itself inhis hands, taking refuge under his wings, committing its fortune to hisgenius, and in the person of its choicest sons was crying: "Save, foryou alone can save!" In one month or in two there will be at Zbaraj onehundred thousand warriors, ready for a struggle to the death with theserpent of civil war. Here pictures of a future surrounded with lightimmeasurable, of glory and power, began to pass before the eyes of theprince. Those who wished to pass him by and subdue him are trembling,and he takes those iron legions and leads them into the steppes of theUkraine, to victories and triumphs such as history has not yet known.The prince feels in himself corresponding power, and from his shoulderswings shoot forth like the wings of the archangel Michael. And at thatmoment he turns into such a giant that the whole castle, all Zbaraj,all Russia, cannot contain him. As God lives, he will rub outHmelnitski, he will trample the rebellion, he will bring back peace tothe fatherland! He sees extended plains, legions of troops; he hearsthe roar of artillery. A battle! a battle! Victory unheard of,unparalleled! Legions of bodies, hundreds of banners, cover theblood-stained steppe, and he tramples on the body of Hmelnitski, andthe trumpets sound victory, and that sound flies from sea to sea. Theprince rises, rushes up, extends his hands to Christ, around whose headis a mild purple light. "Oh, Christ, Christ!" he cries, "thou knowest,thou seest that I can; tell me that I should do this."
But Christ hung his head on his breast, and was as silent, as sorrowfulas if he had been crucified the moment before.
"To thee be the praise!" cried the prince. "Non mihi, non mihi, sednomini tuo da gloriam! To the glory of the faith of the Church and ofall Christianity! Oh, Christ, Christ!" And a new image opened
beforethe eyes of the hero. That career was not ended by the victory overHmelnitski. The prince, having destroyed the rebellion, grows strong onits body. He becomes gigantic in power. Legions of Cossacks are joinedto legions of Poles, and he goes farther,--strikes the Crimea, reachesthe terrible dragon in his den; he erects the cross where hithertobells had never called the faithful to prayer. He will go also to thoselands which the princes Vishnyevetski have already trampled with thehoofs of their horses, and will extend the boundaries of theCommonwealth, and with them the Church, to the remotest corners of theearth. Where then is the limit to this impetus, where the bounds tothis glory, power, and strength? There are none whatever.
The pale light of the moon falls into the chamber of the castle, butthe clock beats a late hour, and the cocks are crowing. It will soon beday; but will it be a day in which with the sun in heaven a new sunwill shine upon earth?
Yes, it will. The prince would be a child and not a man if he did notdo this, if for any reasons whatever he drew back before the voice ofthese destinies. Now he feels a certain calm, which the merciful Christhad evidently poured on him,--praise to him for that! His mind hasbecome more sober; he takes in more easily too with the eyes of hissoul the condition of the country and all its affairs. The policy ofthe chancellor and those magnates in Warsaw, as well as of the voevodaof Bratslav, is evil, and destructive for the country. To trample theZaporojie first, and squeeze an ocean of blood out of it, break it,annihilate it, bend, and conquer, and then only acknowledge thateverything is finished; to restrain all oppression; to introduce order,peace; being able to kill, to restore to life,--that was the only pathworthy of that great, that lordly Commonwealth. It might have beenpossible perhaps to choose another path long before, but not now. Whatin truth could negotiations lead to then? Armed legionaries standagainst one another in thousands; and even if negotiations wereconcluded, what power could they have! No, no! those are dream visions,shadows, a war extended over whole ages, a sea of tears and blood forthe future. Let them take the only course which is great, noble, fullof power, and he will wish and ask for nothing more. He will settleagain in Lubni, and will wait quietly till the terrible trumpets callhim to action again.
Let them take it? But who? The Senate? The stormy Diet? The chancellor,the primate, or the commanders? Who, besides him, understands thisgreat idea, and who can carry it out? If such a man can be found, it iswell. But where is he? Who has the power? He alone,--no one else. Tohim the nobles come; to him the armies gather; in his hand is the swordof the Commonwealth,--but the Commonwealth when the king is on thethrone. But now when there is no king the will of the people rules. Itis the supreme law, expressed not only in the Diets, not only throughdeputies, the Senate, and chancellors, not only through written lawsand manifestoes; but still more powerfully, more emphatically, moredefinitely, by action. And who rules in action? The knightly estate;and this knightly estate is assembling at Zbaraj, and says to him, "Youare the leader." The whole Commonwealth without voting gives himauthority by the power of events, and repeats, "You are the leader." Andshould he draw back? What appointment does he wish besides? From whomis he to expect it? Is it from those who are endeavoring to ruin theCommonwealth and to conquer him? Why should he, why should he? Is itbecause when panic seized upon all, when the hetmans went intocaptivity, and the armies were lost, magnates hid themselves in theircastles, and the Cossack put the foot on the breast of theCommonwealth, he alone pushed away that foot and raised from the dustthe fainting head of that mother; sacrificed for her everything,--life,fortune; saved her from shame, from death,--he the conqueror!
Let him who has rendered more service, take the power. Let it rest inthe hands of the man to whom it belongs more of right. He will resignthat burden willingly, and say to God and the Commonwealth, "Let thyservant depart in peace;" for he is wearied, greatly weakened, andbesides he is sure that neither the memory of him nor his grave willdisappear.
But if there is no such person, he would be doubly and trebly a childand not a man if he should resign that power, that bright path, thatbrilliant, immense future, in which lies the salvation of theCommonwealth, its power, glory, and happiness. And why should he?
The prince raised his head again proudly, and his flaming glance fellon Christ; but Christ hung his head on his breast, and remained insilence as painful as if they had crucified him the moment before.
Why should he? The hero pressed his heated temples with his hands.Maybe there is an answer. What is the meaning of those voices whichamidst the golden rainbow visions of glory, amidst the thunder ofcoming victories, amidst the forebodings of grandeur, of power, callout so mercilessly to his soul, "Oh, halt, unfortunate one!" What meansthat unrest which goes through his breast like the shudder of alarm?What means it that when he shows himself most clearly and convincinglythat he ought to take the power, something there in the depths of hisconscience whispers, "You deceive yourself; pride misleads you; Satanpromises you the glories of the kingdom"?
And again a fearful struggle began in the soul of the prince; again hewas carried away by a whirlwind of alarms, uncertainty, and doubts.
What are the nobles doing who join him instead of the commanders?Trampling on law. What is the army doing? Violating discipline. And ishe, a citizen, is he, a soldier, to stand at the head of lawlessness?Is he to cover it with his own dignity? Is he to give an example ofinsubordination, arbitrariness, disregard of law, and all merely toreceive power two months earlier; for if Prince Karl shall be electedto the throne, power will not pass him by? Is he to give such a fearfulexample to succeeding ages? For what will happen? To-day Prince Yeremiacts in this way; to-morrow, Konyetspolski, Pototski Firlei, Zamoyski,or Lyubomirski. And if each one, without reference to law anddiscipline, acts according to his own ambition; if the children followthe example of their fathers and grandfathers,--what future isbefore that unhappy country? The worms of arbitrariness, disorder,self-seeking have so gnawed the trunk of that Commonwealth, that underthe axe of civil war the rotten wood is scattered, the dry limbs fallfrom the tree. What will happen when those whose duty it is to guardand save it as the apple of the eye put fire under it? What will happenthen? Ob, Jesus, Jesus! Hmelnitski too shields himself with the publicgood, and does nothing else; still he rises up against law andauthority.
A shudder passed through the prince from his feet to his head. He wrunghis hands. "Am I to be another Hmelnitski, O Christ?"
But Christ hung his head on his breast, and was as painfully silent asif crucified the moment before.
The prince struggled on. If he should assume power, and the chancellor,the Senate, and the commanders should proclaim him a rebel, then whatwould happen? Another civil war? And then the question. Is Hmelnitskithe greatest and most terrible enemy of the Commonwealth? More thanonce she has been invaded by still greater powers. When two hundredthousand armored Germans marched at Gruenwald on the regiments ofYagello, and when at Khotim half Asia appeared in the fight,destruction seemed still nearer. And what had become of these hostilepowers? No; the Commonwealth is not in danger from wars, and wars willnot be her destruction. But why, in view of such victories, of suchreserved power, of such glory, is she, who crushed the knights of thecross and the Turks, so weak and incompetent that she is on her kneesbefore one Cossack, that her neighbors are seizing her boundaries, thatnations are ridiculing her, that no one listens to her voice, orregards her anger, and that all are looking forward to her destruction?
Ah! it is specifically the pride and ambition of magnates, each oneacting by himself; self-will is the cause of it. The worst enemyis not Hmelnitski, but internal disorder, waywardness of the nobles,weakness and insubordination of the army, uproar of the Diets,brawls, disputes, confusion, weakness, self-seeking, andinsubordination,--insubordination, above all. The tree is rotting andweakening from the heart. Soon will men see how the first storm willthrow it; but he is a parricide who puts his hand to such work. Cursedbe he and his children to the tenth generation!
Go then, O conqueror of Ny
emiroff, Pogrebische, Makhnovka,Konstantinoff,--go, prince voevoda,--go, snatch command from leaders,trample upon law and authority, give an example to posterity how torend the entrails of the mother!
Terror, despair, and fright were reflected in the face of the prince.He screamed terribly, and seizing himself by the hair, fell in the dustbefore the crucifix. The prince repented, and beat his worthy head onthe stone pavement, and from his breast struggled forth the dullvoice,--
"O God, be merciful to me a sinner! O God, be merciful to me a sinner!God, be merciful to me a sinner!"
The rosy dawn was already in the sky, and then came the golden sun andlighted the hall. In the cornices the chattering of sparrows andswallows began. The prince rose and went to rouse his attendantJelenski, who was sleeping on the other side of the door.
"Run," said he, "to the orderlies, and tell them to summon to me fromthe castle and the town the colonels of the regular army and of themilitia."
Two hours later the hall began to be filled with the mustached andbearded forms of warriors. Of the prince's people there came oldZatsvilikhovski, Polyanovski, Pan Yan with Zagloba, Vurtsel, Maknitski,Volodyovski, Vershul, Ponyatovski, almost all the officers to theensigns, except Kushel, who was in Podolia on a reconnoissance. Fromthe regular army came Osinski and Koritski. Many of the moredistinguished nobles were unable to rise from their feather-beds soearly; but no small number, even of these, were assembled,--among thempersonages of various provinces, from castellans to sub-chamberlains.Murmurs and conversation resounded, and there was a noise as in a hive;but all eyes were turned to the door through which the prince was tocome.
All grew silent as the prince entered. His face was calm and pleasant;only his eyes reddened by sleeplessness, and his pinched featurestestified of the recent struggle. But through that calm and evensweetness appeared dignity and unbending will.
"Gentlemen," said he, "last night I communed with God and my ownconscience as to what I should do. I announce therefore to you, and doyou announce to all the knightly order, that for the sake of thecountry and that harmony needful in time of defeat, I put myself underthe commanders."
A dull silence reigned in the assembly.
In the afternoon of that day, in the court of the castle three hundredof Vershul's Tartars stood ready to journey with Pan Yan; and in thecastle the prince was giving to the officers of the army a dinner whichat the same time was a farewell feast to our knight. He was seatedtherefore by the prince as "the bridegroom;" and next to him satZagloba, for it was known that his daring and management had saved "thebride" from mortal peril. The prince was in good spirits, for he hadcast the burden from his heart. He raised the goblet to the success ofthe future couple. The walls and windows trembled from the shouts ofthose present. In the anteroom was a bustle of servants, among whomJendzian had the lead.
"Gentlemen," said the prince, "let this third goblet be for posterity.It's a splendid stock. God grant that the apples may not fall far fromthe tree! From this falcon may noble falconets spring!"
"Success to them! success to them!"
"In thanks!" cried Pan Yan, emptying an enormous goblet of Malmoisie.
"Success to them! success to them!"
"Crescite et multiplicamini!"
"You ought to furnish half a squadron," said old Zatsvilikhovski,laughing.
"Oh, he will fill the army entirely! I know him," said Zagloba.
The nobles roared with laughter. Wine rose to their heads. Everywherewere to be seen flushed faces, moving mustaches; and the good feelingwas increasing every moment.
Just then at the threshold of the hall appeared a gloomy figure,covered with dust; and in view of the table, the feast, and thegleaming faces, it stopped at the door as if hesitating to enter. Theprince saw it first, wrinkled his brows, shaded his eyes, and said,--
"But who is there? Ah, that is Kushel! From the expedition. What newsdo you bring?"
"Very bad, your Highness!" said the young officer, with a strangevoice.
Suddenly silence reigned in the assembly, as if some one had put itunder a spell. The goblets raised to the lips remained half-way; alleyes were turned to Kushel, on whose wearied face pain was depicted.
"It would have been better had you not spoken, since I am joyful at thecup," said the prince; "but since you have begun, speak to the end."
"Your Highness, I too should prefer not to be an owl, for these tidingshalt on my lips."
"What has happened? Speak!"
"Bar is taken!"
Ogniem i mieczem. English Page 35
