The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 1 (of 2)
Page 42
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The words of the young daughter of the starosta of Sohachev filledKmita with great consolation, and for three days they did not leave hishead. In the daytime on horseback, in the night on the bed, he wasthinking of what had happened to him, and he came always to theconclusion that this could not be simple chance, but an indication fromGod, and a presage that if he would hold out, if he would not leave thegood road, that same road which Olenka had shown him, she would keepfaith and give him her former affection.
"If the starosta's daughter," thought Kmita, "keeps faith with herAndrei, who has not begun to grow better, there is still hope for me,with my honest intention of serving virtue, the country, and the king."
But, on the other hand, suffering was not absent from Pan Andrei. Hehad an honest intention, but had it not come too late? Was there yetany road, were there yet any means? The Commonwealth seemed to sinkdeeper each day, and it was difficult to close one's eyes to theterrible truth that for it there was no salvation. Kmita wished nothingmore intently than to begin some kind of work, but he saw no willingpeople. Every moment new figures, every moment new faces, passed beforehim in the time of his journey; but the sight of them, their talk anddiscussions, merely took from him the remnant of his hopes.
Some had gone body and soul to the Swedish camp, seeking in it theirown profit; these people drank and caroused as at a wake, drowning, incups and in riot, shame and the honor of nobles; others told, withblindness beyond understanding, of that power which the Commonwealthwould form in union with Sweden, under the sceptre of the first warrioron earth; and these were the most dangerous, for they were sincerelyconvinced that the whole earth must bow before such an alliance. Athird party, like the starosta of Sohachev, honorable people andwishing well to the country, sought signs on the earth and in theheavens, repeated prophecies, and seeing the will of God and unbendingpredestination in all things that happened, came to the conclusion thatthere was no hope, no salvation; that the end of the world was drawingnigh; therefore it would be madness to think of earthly instead ofheavenly salvation. Others hid in the forest, or escaped with theirlives beyond the boundaries of the Commonwealth. Kmita met onlyunrestrained, corrupted, mad, timid, or desperate people. He met no manwho had hope.
Meanwhile the fortune of the Swedes was increasing. News that the restof the army had revolted, were conspiring, threatening the hetmans, andwishing to go over to the Swedes, gained certainty every day. Thereport that Konyetspolski with his division had joined Karl Gustavreverberated like thunder through every corner of the Commonwealth, anddrove out the remnant of faith from men's hearts, for Konyetspolski wasa knight of Zbaraj. He was followed by the starosta of Yavor and PrinceDymitr Vishnyevetski, who was not restrained by a name covered withimmortal glory.
Men had begun now to doubt Lyubomirski, the marshal. Those who knew himwell asserted that ambition surpassed in him both reason and love ofcountry; that for the time being he was on the king's side because hewas flattered, because all eyes were turned to him, because one sideand the other tried to win him, to persuade him, because he was toldthat he had the fate of the country in his hands. But in view ofSwedish success he began to hesitate, to delay; and each moment he gavethe unfortunate Yan Kazimir to understand more clearly that he couldsave him, or sink him completely.
The refugee king was living in Glogov with a handful of trustedpersons, who shared his fate. Each day some one deserted him, and wentover to the Swedes. Thus do the weak bend in days of misfortune, evenmen to whom the first impulse of the heart points out the thorny pathof honor. Karl Gustav received the deserters with open arms, rewardedthem, covered them with promises, tempted and attracted the remnant ofthe faithful, extended more widely his rule; fortune itself pushed frombefore his feet every obstacle; he conquered Poland with Polish forces;he was a victor without a battle.
Crowds of voevodas, castellans, officials of Poland and Lithuania,throngs of armed nobles, complete squadrons of incomparable Polishcavalry, stood in his camp, watching the eyes of their newly made lordand ready at his beck.
The last of the armies of the kingdom was calling more and moreemphatically to its hetman: "Go, incline thy gray head before themajesty of Karl,--go, for we wish to belong to the Swedes."
"To the Swedes! to the Swedes!"
And in support of these words thousands of sabres flashed forth.
At the same time war was flaming continually on the east. The terribleHmelnitski was besieging Lvoff again; and legions of his allies,rolling on past the unconquered walls of Zamost, spread over the wholeprovince of Lubelsk, reaching even to Lublin.
Lithuania was in the hands of the Swedes and Hovanski. Radzivill hadbegun war in Podlyasye, the elector was loitering, and any moment hemight give the last blow to the expiring Commonwealth; meanwhile he wasgrowing strong in Royal Prussia.
Embassies from every side were hastening to the King of Sweden, wishinghim a happy conquest.
Winter was coming; leaves were falling from the trees; flocks ofravens, crows, and jackdaws had deserted the forests, and were flyingover the villages and towns of the Commonwealth.
Beyond Pyotrkoff Kmita came again upon Swedish parties, who occupiedall the roads and highways. Some of them, after the capture of Cracow,were marching to Warsaw, for it was said that Karl Gustav, havingreceived homage from the northern and eastern provinces and signed the"capitulations," was only waiting for the submission of those remnantsof the army under Pototski and Lantskoronski; that given, he would gostraightway to Prussia, and therefore he was sending the army ahead.The road was closed in no place to Pan Andrei, for in general noblesroused no suspicion. A multitude of armed attendants were going withthe Swedes; others were going to Cracow,--one to bow down before thenew king, another to obtain something from him. No one was asked for apass or a letter, especially since in the neighborhood of Karl, who wascounterfeiting kindness, no man dared trouble another.
The last night before Chenstohova met Pan Andrei in Krushyn; but barelyhad he settled down when guests arrived. First a Swedish detachment ofabout one hundred horse, under the lead of a number of officers andsome important captain. This captain was a man of middle age, of a formrather imposing, large, powerful, broad-shouldered, quick-eyed; andthough he wore a foreign dress and looked altogether like a foreigner,still when he entered the room he spoke to Pan Andrei in purest Polish,asking who he was and whither he was going.
Pan Andrei answered at once that he was a noble from Sohachev, for itmight have seemed strange to the officer that a subject of the electorhad come to that remote place. Learning that Pan Andrei was going tothe King of Sweden with complaint that payment of money due him by theSwedes was refused, the officer said,--
"Prayer at the high altar is best, and wisely you go to the king; forthough he has a thousand affairs on his head, he refuses hearing to noone, and he is so kind to Polish nobles that you are envied by theSwedes."
"If only there is money in the treasury?"
"Karl Gustav is not the same as your recent Yan Kazimir, who was forcedto borrow even of Jews, for whatever he had he gave straightway to himwho first asked for it. But if a certain enterprise succeeds, therewill be no lack of coin in the treasury."
"Of what enterprise is your grace speaking?"
"I know you too little to speak confidentially, but be assured that ina week or two the treasury of the King of Sweden will be as weighty asthat of the Sultan."
"Then some alchemist must make money for him, since there is no placefrom which to get it in this country."
"In this country? It is enough to stretch forth daring hands. And ofdaring there is no lack among us, as is shown by the fact that we arenow rulers here."
"True, true," answered Kmita; "we are very glad of that rule,especially if you teach us how to get money like chips."
"The means are in your power, but you would rather die of hunger thantake one copper."
Kmita looked quickly at the officer, and said,--
"You are too mysterious. Sir Cavalier," answered the officer, "andremember that you are going, not to Tartars, but to Swedes for money."
Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a new party ofmen, whom the officer was evidently expecting, for he hurried out ofthe inn. Kmita followed and stood in the door to see who were coming.
In front was a closed carriage drawn by four horses, and surrounded bya party of Swedish horsemen; it stopped before the inn. The officer whohad just been talking to Kmita went up to the carriage quickly, andopening the door made a low bow to the person sitting inside.
"He must be some distinguished man," thought Kmita.
That moment they brought from the inn a flaming torch. Out of thecarriage stepped an important personage dressed in black, in foreignfashion, with a cloak to his knees, lined with fox-skin, and a hat withfeathers. The officer seized the torch from the hands of a horseman,and bowing once more, said,--
"This way, your excellency!"
Kmita pushed back as quickly as possible, and they entered after him.In the room the officer bowed a third time and said,--
"Your excellency, I am Count Veyhard Vjeshchovich, ordinariusproviantmagister, of his Royal Grace Karl Gustav, and am sent with anescort to meet your excellency."
"It is pleasant for me to meet such an honorable cavalier," said thepersonage in black, giving bow for bow.
"Does your excellency wish to stop here some time or to go on at once?His Royal Grace wishes to see your excellency soon."
"I had intended to halt at Chenstohova for prayers," answered the newlyarrived, "but in Vyelunie I received news that his Royal Grace commandsme to hurry; therefore, after I have rested, we will go on. Meanwhiledismiss the escort, and thank the captain who led it."
The officer went to give the requisite order. Pan Andrei stopped him onthe way.
"Who is that?" asked he.
"Baron Lisola, the Imperial Envoy, now on his way from the court ofBrandenburg to our lord," answered the officer. Then he went out, andafter a while returned.
"Your excellency's orders are carried out," said he to the baron.
"I thank you," said Lisola; and with great though very lofty affabilityhe indicated to Count Veyhard a place opposite himself. "Some kind ofstorm is beginning to whistle outside," said he, "and rain is falling.It may continue long; meanwhile let us talk before supper. What is tobe heard here? I have been told that the voevodas of Little Poland havesubmitted to his Grace of Sweden."
"True, your excellency; his Grace is only waiting for the submission ofthe rest of the troops, then he will go at once to Warsaw and toPrussia."
"Is it certain that they will surrender?"
"Deputies from the army are already in Cracow. They have no choice, forif they do not come to us Hmelnitski will destroy them utterly."
Lisola inclined his reasoning head upon his breast. "Terrible, unheardof things!" said he.
The conversation was carried on in the German language. Kmita did notlose a single word of it.
"Your excellency." said Count Veyhard, "that has happened which had tohappen."
"Perhaps so; but it is difficult not to feel compassion for a powerwhich has fallen before our eyes, and for which a man who is not aSwede must feel sorrow."
"I am not a Swede; but if Poles themselves do not feel sorrow, neitherdo I," answered the count.
Lisola looked at him seriously. "It is true that your name is notSwedish. From what people are you, I pray?"
"I am a Cheh" (Bohemian).
"Indeed? Then you are a subject of the German emperor? We are under thesame rule."
"I am in the service of the Most Serene King of Sweden," said Veyhard,with a bow.
"I wish not to derogate from that service in the least," answeredLisola, "but such employments are temporary; being then a subject ofour gracious sovereign, whoever you may be, whomsoever you may serve,you cannot consider any one else as your natural sovereign."
"I do not deny that."
"Then I will tell you sincerely, that our lord mourns over thisillustrious Commonwealth, over the fate of its noble monarch, and hecannot look with a kindly or willing eye on those of his subjects whoare aiding in the final ruin of a friendly power. What have the Polesdone to you, that you show them such ill will?"
"Your excellency, I might answer many things, but I fear to abuse yourpatience."
"You seem to me not only a famous soldier, but a wise man. My officeobliges me to observe, to listen, to seek causes; speak then, even inthe most minute way, and fear not to annoy my patience. If you inclineat any time to the service of the emperor, which I wish most strongly,you will find in me a friend who will explain and repeat your reasons,should any man wish to consider your present service as wrong."
"Then I will tell you all that I have on my mind. Like many nobles,younger sons, I had to seek my fortune outside my native land. I cameto this country where the people are related to my own, and takeforeigners into service readily."
"Were you badly received?"
"Salt mines were given to my management I found means of livelihood, ofapproach to the people and the king himself; I serve the Swedes atpresent, but should any one wish to consider me unthankful, I couldcontradict him directly."
"How?"
"Can more be asked of me than of the Poles themselves? Where are thePoles to-day? Where are the senators of this kingdom, the princes, themagnates, the nobles, if not in the Swedish camp? And still they shouldbe the first to know what they ought to do, where the salvation oftheir country is, and where its destruction. I follow their example;who of them then has the right to call me unthankful? Why should I, aforeigner, be more faithful to the King of Poland and the Commonwealththan they themselves are? Why should I despise that service for whichthey themselves are begging?"
Lisola made no answer. He rested his head on his hand and fell intothought. It would seem that he was listening to the whistle of the windand the sound of the autumn rain, which had begun to strike the windowsof the inn.
"Speak on," said he, at last; "in truth you tell me strange things."
"I seek fortune where I can find it," continued Count Veyhard; "andbecause this people are perishing, I do not need to care for them morethan they do for themselves, besides, even if I were to care, it wouldavail nothing, for they must perish."
"But why is that?"
"First, because they wish it themselves; second, because they deserveit. Your excellency, is there another country in the world where somany disorders and such violence may be seen? What manner of governmentis there here? The king does not rule, because they will not let him;the diets do not rule, because the members break them; there is noarmy, because the Poles will not pay taxes; there is no obedience, forobedience is opposed to freedom; there is no justice, for there is noone to execute decisions, and each strong man tramples on decisions;there is no loyalty in this people, for all have deserted their king;there is no love for the country, for they have given it to the Swede,for the promise that he will not prevent them from living in oldfashion according to their ancient violence. Where could anythingsimilar be found? What people in the world would aid an enemy inconquering their own country? Who would desert a king, not for histyranny, not for his evil deeds, but because a stronger one came? Whereis there a people who love private profits more, or trample more onpublic affairs? What have they, your excellency? Let any one mention tome even one virtue,--prudence, reason, cleverness, endurance,abstinence. What have they? Good cavalry? that and nothing more. Butthe Numidians were famous for cavalry, and the Gauls, as may be read inRoman history, had celebrated soldiers; but where are they? They haveperished as they were bound to perish. Whoso wishes to save the Polesis merely losing time, for they will not save themselves. Only the mad,the violent, the malicious, and the venal inhabit this land."
Count Veyhard pronounced the last words with a genuine outburst ofhatred
marvellous in a foreigner who had found bread among that people;but Lisola was not astonished. A veteran diplomat, he knew the worldand men. He knew that whoso does not know how to pay his benefactorwith his heart, seeks in him faults, so as to shield with them his ownunthankfulness. Besides, it may be that he recognized that CountVeyhard was right. He did not protest, but asked quickly, "Are you aCatholic?"
The count was confused. "Yes, your excellency," answered he.
"I have heard in Vyelunie that there are persons who persuade the king,Karl Gustav, to occupy the monastery of Yasna Gora.[30] Is it true?"
"Your excellency, the monastery lies near the Silesian boundary, andYan Kazimir can easily receive messages therefrom. We must occupy it toprevent that. I was the first to direct attention to this matter, andtherefore his Royal Grace has confided these functions to me."
Here Count Veyhard stopped suddenly, remembered Kmita, sitting in theother corner of the room, and coming up to him, asked,--
"Do you understand German?"
"Not a word, even if a man were to pull my teeth," answered Pan Andrei.
"That is too bad, for we wished to ask you to join our conversation."Then he turned to Lisola.
"There is a strange noble here, but he does not understand German; wecan speak freely."
"I have no secret to tell," said Lisola; "but as I am a Catholic too, Ishould not like to see such injustice done to a sacred place. Andbecause I am certain that the most serene emperor has the same feeling,I shall beg his Grace the King of Sweden to spare the monks. And do nothurry with the occupation until there is a new decision."
"I have express, though secret, instructions; but I shall not withholdthem from your excellency, for I wish to serve faithfully my lord theemperor. I can assure your excellency that no profanation will come tothe sacred place. I am a Catholic."
Lisola laughed, and wishing to extort the truth from a man lessexperienced than himself, asked jokingly,--
"But you will shake up their treasury for the monks? It will not passwithout that, will it?"
"That may happen," answered Count Veyhard. "The Most Holy Lady will notask for thalers from the priors' caskets. When all others pay, let themonks pay too."
"But if the monks defend themselves?"
The count laughed. "In this country no man will defend himself, andto-day no man is able. There was a time for defence,--now it is toolate."
"Too late," repeated Lisola.
The conversation ended there. After supper they went away. Kmitaremained alone. This was for him the bitterest night that he had spentsince leaving Kyedani. While listening to the words of Count Veyhard,Kmita had to restrain himself with all his power to keep from shoutingat him, "Thou liest, thou cur!" and from falling on him with his sabre.But if he did not do so, it was unhappily because he felt andrecognized truth in the words of the foreigner,--awful truth burninglike fire, but genuine.
"What could I say to him?" thought he; "with what could I offer denialexcept with my fist? What reasons could I bring? He snarled out thetruth. Would to God he were slain! And that statesman of the emperoracknowledged to him that in all things and for all defence it was toolate."
Kmita suffered in great part perhaps because that "too late" was thesentence not only of the country, but of his own personal happiness.And he had had his fill of suffering; there was no strength left inhim, for during all those weeks he had heard nothing save, "All islost, there is no time left, it is too late." No ray of hope anywherefell into his soul.
Ever riding farther, he had hastened greatly, night and day, to escapefrom those prophecies, to find at last some place of rest, some man whowould pour into his spirit even one drop of consolation. But he foundevery moment greater fall, every moment greater despair. At last thewords of Count Veyhard filled that cup of bitterness and gall; theyshowed to him clearly this, which hitherto was an undefined feeling,that not so much the Swedes, the Northerners, and the Cossacks hadkilled the country, as the whole people.
"The mad, the violent, the malicious, the venal, inhabit this land,"repeated Kmita after Count Veyhard, "and there are no others! They obeynot the king, they break the diets, they pay not the taxes, they helpthe enemy to the conquest of this land. They must perish.
"In God's name, if I could only give him the lie! Is there nothing goodin us save cavalry; no virtue, nothing but evil itself?"
Kmita sought an answer in his soul. He was so wearied from the road,from sorrows, and from everything that had passed before him, that itgrew cloudy in his head. He felt that he was ill and a deathly sicknessseized possession of him. In his brain an ever-growing chaos wasworking. Faces known and unknown pushed past him,--those whom he hadknown long before and those whom he had met on this journey. Thosefigures spoke, as if at a diet, they quoted sentences, prophecies; andall was concerning Olenka. She was awaiting deliverance from Kmita; butCount Veyhard held him by the arms, and looking into his eyes repeated:"Too late! what is Swedish is Swedish!" and Boguslav Radzivill sneeredand supported Count Veyhard. Then all of them began to scream: "Toolate, too late, too late!" and seizing Olenka they vanished with hersomewhere in darkness.
It seemed to Pan Andrei that Olenka and the country were the same, thathe had ruined both and had given them to the Swedes of his own will.Then such measureless sorrow grasped hold of him that he woke, lookedaround in amazement and listening to the wind which in the chimney, inthe walls, in the roof, whistled in various voices and played througheach cranny, as if on an organ.
But the visions returned, Olenka and the country were blended again inhis thoughts in one person whom Count Veyhard was conducting awaysaying: "Too late, too late!"
So Pan Andrei spent the night in a fever. In moments of consciousnesshe thought that it would come to him to be seriously ill, and at lasthe wanted to call Soroka to bleed him. But just then dawn began; Kmitasprang up and went out in front of the inn.
The first dawn had barely begun to dissipate the darkness; the daypromised to be mild; the clouds were breaking into long stripes andstreaks on the west, but the east was pure; on the heavens, which weregrowing pale gradually, stars, unobscured by mist, were twinkling.Kmita roused his men, arrayed himself in holiday dress, for Sunday hadcome and they moved to the road.
After a bad sleepless night, Kmita was wearied in body and spirit.Neither could that autumn morning, pale but refreshing, frosty andclear, scatter the sorrow crushing the heart of the knight. Hope in himhad burned to the last spark, and was dying like a lamp in which theoil is exhausted. What would that day bring? Nothing!--the same grief,the same suffering, rather it will add to the weight on his soul; of asurety it will not decrease it.
He rode forward in silence, fixing his eyes on some point which wasthen greatly gleaming upon the horizon. The horses were snorting; themen fell to singing with drowsy voices their matins.
Meanwhile it became clearer each moment, the heavens from pale becamegreen and golden and that point on the horizon began so to shine thatKmita's eyes were dazzled by its glitter. The men ceased their singingand all gazed in that direction, at last Soroka said,--
"A miracle or what?--That is the west, and it is as if the sun wererising."
In fact, that light, increased in the eyes: from a point it became aball, from a ball a globe; from afar you would have said that some onehad hung above the earth a giant star, which was scattering raysimmeasurable.
Kmita and his men looked with amazement on that bright, trembling,radiant vision, not knowing what was before their sight. Then a peasantcame along from Krushyn in a wagon with a rack. Kmita turning to himsaw that the peasant, holding his cap in his hand and looking at thelight, was praying.
"Man," asked Pan Andrei, "what is that which shines so?"
"The church on Yasna Gora."
"Glory to the Most Holy Lady!" cried Kmita. He took his cap from hishead, and his men removed theirs.
After so many days of suffering, of doubts, and of struggles, PanAndrei felt suddenly that something wonderful was happening i
n him,Barely had the words, "the church on Yasna Gora," sounded in his earswhen the confusion fell from him as if some hand had removed it.
A certain inexplicable awe seized hold of Pan Andrei, full ofreverence, but at the same time a joy unknown to experience, great andblissful. From that church shining on the height in the first rays ofthe sun, hope, such as for a long time Pan Andrei had not known, wasbeating,--a strength invincible on which he wished to lean. A now life,as it were, entered him and began to course through his veins with theblood. He breathed as deeply as a sick man coming to himself out offever and unconsciousness.
But the church glittered more and more brightly, as if it were takingto itself all the light of the sun. The whole region lay at its feet,and the church gazed at it from the height; you would have said, "'Tisthe sentry and guardian of the land."
For a long time Kmita could not take his eyes from that light; hesatisfied and comforted himself with the sight of it. The faces of hismen had grown serious, and were penetrated with awe. Then the sound ofa bell was heard in the silent morning air.
"From your horses!" cried Pan Andrei.
All sprang from their saddles, and kneeling on the road began thelitany. Kmita repeated it, and the soldiers responded together.
Other wagons came up. Peasants seeing the praying men on the roadjoined them, and the crowd grew greater continually. When at length theprayers were finished Pan Andrei rose, and after him his men; but theyadvanced on foot, leading their horses and singing: "Hail, ye brightgates!"
Kmita went on with alertness as if he had wings on his shoulders. Atthe turns of the road the church vanished, then came out again. When aheight or a mist concealed it, it seemed to Kmita that light had beencaptured by darkness; but when it gleamed forth again all faces wereradiant.
So they went on for a long time. The cloister and the walls surroundingit came out more distinctly, became more imposing, more immense. Atlast they saw the town in the distance, and under the mountain wholelines of houses and cottages, which, compared with the size of thechurch, seemed as small as birds' nests.
It was Sunday; therefore when the sun had risen well the road wasswarming with wagons, and people on foot going to church. From thelofty towers the bells great and small began to peal, filling the airwith noble sounds. There was in that sight and in those metal voices astrength, a majesty immeasurable, and at the same time a calm. That bitof land at the foot of Yasna Gora resembled in no wise the rest of thecountry.
Throngs of people stood black around the walls of the church. Under thehill were hundreds of wagons, carriages, and equipages; the talk of menwas blended with the neighing of horses tied to posts. Farther on, atthe right, along the chief road leading to the mountain, were to beseen whole rows of stands, at which were sold metal offerings, waxcandles, pictures, and scapulars. A river of people flowed everywherefreely.
The gates were wide open; whoso wished entered, whoso wished wentforth; on the walls, at the guns, were no soldiers. Evidently the verysacredness of the place guarded the church and the cloister, andperhaps men trusted in the letters of Karl Gustav in which heguaranteed safety.