Adam Mickiewicz Collected Poetical Works

by Adam Mickiewicz

  Pan Czartoryski of Podolia went89

  through Volhynia to his Polish estate,

  or else to attend the Warsaw Assembly,

  I don’t recall. His intention was to mate

  business with pleasure, for he stopped to see

  numerous gentlemen along the way

  both for amusement and to gain support.

  He visited Rejtan, praised to this day,

  who served Novogrodek at the Royal Court —

  he was the one who raised me up from birth.

  Rejtan prepared for the Prince’s arrival;

  all were invited and all ventured forth.

  Since, to the Prince, the theatre had no rival,

  Rejtan staged a real extravaganza,

  complete with fireworks. Dancers were sent

  by Pan Tyzenhaus, a complete orchestra

  Oginski and Pan Soltan from Zdzieciol lent.

  A hunt arranged, a trek out in the woods.

  Perhaps you know about the Czartoryskis —

  though they descend from Jagiellonian blood,

  the Prince was not eager to roam through trees,

  though not from laziness but foreign taste,

  preferring his own books to grooming dogs,

  and ladies to alcoves he always chased,

  instead of hares, racing across the bogs.

  He entertained DeNasseau, German Prince,

  who hunted in Libya with African kings,

  who slew a tiger with only a lance,

  now subjecting the whole group to his boastings.

  Rejtan battled a wild boar, a sow,

  a single shot, close range, at much great risk.

  While they were praising Rejtan’s aim, DeNasseau,

  German that he was, remained quite brusque,

  remarking through his nose, and thus piercing

  their compliments: “Aim reveals an eye that’s bold,

  but tempered steel proves that the hand is king.”

  He jabbered on and once again he told

  his Libyan tales — his tiger and monarch,

  praising himself or his skill with a spear.”

  Evidently, his bragging hit the mark,

  annoying Rejtan more than he could bear,

  for he was quick-tempered and confident.

  “Dear Prince, surely a boar equals a tiger,

  sabre equals spear.” With some dissent

  heated debate sprung up, full of vigor.

  Czartoryski resorted to protocol;89

  he spoke French and they kept their distance;

  he might have thrown ashes over hot coals.

  Rejtan, provoked, was waiting for the chance

  to repay the German with a trick,

  although his little joke almost turned tragic.”

  The Seneschal paused, emitting a cough;

  he reached into the gold tobacco case,

  leaving his tale dangling, as he dipped snuff.

  To heighten interest, he slowed down the pace;

  but when he tried to re-address his audience,

  sadly his story was interrupted.

  A man rushed up, leaping over the fence

  calling to the Judge, the tale disrupted.

  His business was urgent, so he waited

  while the Judge excused himself. The rest

  scattered wherever their wills dictated:

  some went to rooms to sleep and there undressed;

  some stayed awake; some to the barn and hay.

  The Judge let the messenger have his say.

  While others slept, Tadeusz preferred to walk

  like a sentry, hovering by the door

  of his uncle, desperately wanting to talk.

  Though the door was unlocked, he didn’t dare

  to knock, disturbing the secret conference,

  but pricked his ears instead, trying to make sense90

  of the sobbing within, careful not to nudge

  as through the small keyhole to he deftly gazed.

  How strange! He saw the monk Robak, the Judge,

  kneeling on the floor as they embraced;

  the monk kissed the Judge’s hand as he wept,

  and both remained in this pose of regret,

  till he arose and to the window stepped.

  “Brother, God knows, how long I’ve kept this secret,

  this sin I confessed, repented, and vowed,

  devoting my life to God and country,

  not from pride, not for the praise of the crowd,

  to live as a monk, till Poland be free.

  I said that I’d never reveal my name,

  not to you, or even to my son.

  Now, from my order, permission has come

  In Articulo Mortis, when my work is done —

  reveal the truth. I might never come back,

  who knows what horrors I might face in Dobrzyn.

  There’s much turmoil; the French response is slack.

  Winter will pass without their stepping in;

  I don’t think the nobles can wait till then.

  My talk of insurrection has them stirred,

  only to be spoiled by Horeszko’s Warden.

  The Count’s insane! And he won’t be deterred.

  It is more grave than even I expected;

  Maciek recognized me — I’ll be exposed.

  If my identity would be detected,

  the Warden would not be kindly disposed.

  He’d send me back — slashed by his Penknife.

  This uprising is worth more than my life.

  But I must go, although I might perish;

  the nobles in Dobrzyn might go insane.

  You, and my son, the ones that I most cherish,

  be healthy, and pray that soon I might gain

  God’s grace. You, Soplica, know my secret —

  not to succeed would be my one regret.”

  The priest wiped his tears and drew up his hood,

  opened the window and leapt to the ground,

  leaving the Judge with his sorrowful mood.

  Tadeusz heard nothing but muffled sound.

  He waited a moment, jiggled the handle;

  when the door opened, he entered and bowed.

  “Dear Uncle,” he said, “like a small candle,

  these days quickly burn out. I have allowed

  myself too much pleasure, spent little time

  with you. This night I am thinking of leaving,

  tomorrow the latest. You know the crime

  must be punished, there is no use deceiving

  ourselves, that’s why I sent the challenge. By law,

  in Lithuania, dueling is forbidden;

  I must ride to the Duchy of Warsaw.

  The Count’s is a braggart, who’ll come when bidden;

  he won’t lack courage to settle accounts.

  If he’s not blessed by God, he will be punished,

  I’ll swim across the river and announce

  to awaiting brothers the deed is finished.

  I’ll join the Legions — it’s my father’s will,

  If that is, in fact, his testament, still.”

  “Tadeusz,” his Uncle said, “hot water

  has scalded you — or like a fox you hedge —

  waving its brush one way, running another.

  The Count was challenged and he will acknowledge,

  but must you leave today in such a hurry?

  The custom is to send a friend before the duel

  to settle terms. The Count might end his fury;

  he might apologize, playing the fool.

  Another fly buzzes around your head;

  what drives you away — don’t make excuses;

  I am your Uncle, old but not yet dead.

  I know the youthful heart and all its ruses.

  I’ve heard it said you’ve carried on intrigues

  with the ladies. These days it seems our youth

  are quick to fall in love — Venus in
league

  with the devil. Tadeusz, tell the truth.”

  “Of course,” Tadeusz mumbled, “there are reasons,

  dear Uncle, that perhaps are my mistake,

  no, my misfortune, for they are treasons,

  beyond correction. And so, for my sake,

  ask me no more about my youthful pride —

  from Soplicowo, I must quickly ride.”

  “Ahah!” said his Uncle, “A love squabble.

  Yesterday I noticed you bit your tongue

  watching a certain girl; your knees wobble.

  And she looked like she had just tasted dung.

  It is so foolish — a pair of children

  fall in love, countless misfortunes follow.

  At first they feel pleasure and all is fun;

  but soon they fret and sadness starts to grow,

  after the first quarrel — yet neither yields.

  One sulks in the corner, the other mute;

  sometimes I’ve seen them run out to the fields.

  If you are involved in such a dispute,

  I’ll have you reconciled, just be patient.

  I was young — I know about youthful love.

  Tell me what happened; with your consent,

  I know secrets that you are not aware of.”

  “Uncle,” Tadeusz said, kissing his hand

  and blushing. “In truth, there is a young lady,

  my Aunt’s ward, Zosia, you can understand.

  I’ve seen her a few times, and then briefly,

  but now I heard that a match has been made:

  the Chamberlain’s daughter is rich and beautiful,

  but I want you to know, I am dismayed;

  I can’t marry Rosa, though dutiful;

  I love Zosia — you can’t expect the heart to change,

  whatever else you think you should arrange.

  It seems dishonest, yes, almost a crime.

  I’ll leave; perhaps I will be cured by time.”

  His Uncle interrupted, “Tadeusz,

  the way that you express your love is strange;

  instead of telling her, you leave her in a rush.

  If I arranged that Zosia you would wed,

  I’m sure you’d be jumping for joy instead.”

  Tadeusz then replied after a pause:

  “I am amazed that you would be so kind,

  but why should you bother with this lost cause?

  Pani Telimena won’t change her mind;

  she won’t allow Zosia to marry me.”

  “I’ll ask,” he said, “perhaps she will relent.”

  “No!” shouted Tadeusz, “Just let it be.

  I leave at dawn for another event,

  so please, I beg, bestow on me your blessing.”

  The Judge tugged at his mustache in anger.

  “You call this candid? Your heart’s confessing?

  First it’s the duel, then love, and now departure.

  I’m sure there’s more; you must be holding back;

  I’ve heard some talk; I’ve been watching your trail.

  You’re a deceiver! And good sense you lack.

  You’ve told falsehoods, but your scheming will fail.

  Where did you go the night before the last —

  like a hound sniffing around the manor?

  Tadeusz, have you seduced Zosia so fast?

  and now you intend to run off and leave her?

  This will never happen, like it or not,

  you’ll marry her. You’ll stand at the altar,

  unless you want a flogging. Now what rot

  is this about a constant heart? Liar!

  I have enough troubles, I have a headache.”

  He opened the door and called for Protazy

  to help undress, although he’d stay awake.

  Tadeusz dropped his head, left quietly;

  undressing, he considered these harsh woods.

  Never had he been harshly berated,

  so he appraised the fairness afterwards.

  Who was right? Slowly his heart abated.

  What if Zosia found out, but with disdain?

  Or Telimena? He could not remain.

  So deep in thought, he went to walk outside,

  and saw, close by, something like a vision,

  slender, frail, and night gowned — it seemed to glide

  with arms raised high in wrathful disposition,

  reflecting a trembling beam of moonlight.

  It stopped and quietly uttered, “Ingrate!

  You sought my glance, now you avoid my sight.

  my every word you’d eagerly await,

  and now you’ve shut your ears, as though my eyes

  and mouth were poisonous. You men, I know,

  ignorant of coquettish ways and lies;

  I do not wish to torment but to show

  you some pleasure, so you should feel indebted.

  But no, this triumph over my soft heart

  has hardened yours. This conquest has whetted

  your appetite for more, for from the start,

  the spoils came too easily — and scorn.

  This terrible experience has taught,

  though you hate me, it’s for myself I mourn.”

  “Telimena,” he said, “what a strange thought —

  my heart is hard and that I feel disdain.

  Consider this: we might be seen or heard;

  just what would such openness really gain?

  It’s indecent, a sin.”

  “A sin, my word!”

  Telimena blurted a bitter laugh,

  innocent lamb — if I, as the female

  don’t care, even if they raise the staff

  against my shame — then why should you, the male,

  fear notoriety? Ten more affairs

  you could confess, and still nobody cares.”

  Tadeusz said, seeing her flood of tears,

  what would people say about a youth

  of my age, in good health, one who prefers

  country romance over honor and truth?

  So many married men have had to leave

  their wife and child behind, just to defend

  their homeland, to fight for what they believe.

  I’d like to stay, but this is not the end —

  according to my father’s testament,

  I am to serve in the Polish army.

  And now that my Uncle’s given consent,

  I ride at dawn; nothing can deter me.”

  “I never intended to block your way,

  to block your path to glory and success.

  As a young man — I’m sure you’ll find the doorway

  to someone prettier, richer, no less.

  But let me have this one consolation,

  please let me know, before we finally part,

  about your heart’s genuine inclination —

  was it love, or simply a trifling sport?

  If I could only hear ‘love’ one more time,

  It would be imprinted in heart and mind.

  I’d forgive you for your profligate crime,

  knowing you loved me once, this to remind.”

  Tadeusz, hearing her sobbing request,

  that with this trifle she’d be pacified,

  was stirred with compassion , also oppressed

  with guilt, searching his heart for secrets inside.

  Perhaps at that moment he didn’t know

  what he truly felt. “May God strike me dead

  if I led you on. What else could I do?

  I like — even loved — you, and what I said

  I meant. We spent so little time together;

  the hours were sweet; their loss I will regret.

  Such tenderness I will always remember,

  God knows, you are someone I won’t forget.”

  Telimena grabbed Tadeusz in embrace:

  “That’s all I dared to hope, now I can live!

  I was prepared to die, now I
can face

  the future, secure that I have your love.

  How can you think of abandoning me?

  I have my heart, my worldly goods I stake,

  to follow you. I’ll gladly cross the sea

  to savage lands — a paradise we’ll make.”

  Tadeusz tore himself from this embrace.

  “What’s this? You’ve lost all sense, it can’t be done.

  A camp follower would be a disgrace,

  I’d be a common soldier dragging one.”

  Telimena broke in, “but we could wed.”

  “Never! Not me! I do not wish to marry;

  I don’t intend to fall in love,” he said.

  “It’s just a trifle; we would both be sorry;

  I beg you to be calm; I am quite grateful,

  but this is impossible. Yes, we can love

  each other, true, but it seems more fateful

  to remain apart. Tomorrow I move.”

  He grabbed his hat, attempting to walk back;

  he tried to walk away from Telimena,

  but her fierce glare halted him in his tracks,

  as though he’d seen the head of Medusa.

  Frozen with terror, he looked at her form —

  motionless, without breath or life and pale.

  Like an attacking knight, she raised her arm,

  pointing her finger as if she meant to impale:

  “The truth at last,” she screamed, “Your dragon’s tongue!

  Your reptile heart! Why should I even care?

  I scorned the Sheriff, Notary, and young

  Count — and you seduce me. How is that fair?

  And now you would desert a cast-off orphan.

  I know about your masculine virtue,

  never expecting this deceitful plan.

  So what you said to your Uncle is true —

  I know, for I listened outside the door —

  that poor Zosia no sooner caught your eye

  than you began to deceive her much more.

  If one scheme fails, why not another try?

  Go, if you must, you can’t outrun my curse;

  or stay, and I’ll reveal your infamy.

  I can’t predict which one will be much worse;

  You won’t delude others so sordidly.

  your game fooled me, but now it’s run its course.”

  Such insult, mortal to a gentleman,

  surely a Soplica had never heard.

  Tadeusz shook, pale as a dying man.

  “Fool!” he shouted, stamping. “That is my word.”

  He walked away, her epithet ringing

  inside his ears. True, he had been sordid,

  deserving her rebuke that was so stinging.

  Telimena suffered from what he did,

  but though his conscience totally agreed,

  she seemed to him even more repugnant,

  standing accused of his infamous deed.

  He dared not think about Zosia this instant;