![]() Taras Bulba ![]() It is useless to describe all the battles in which the Kozaks
distinguished themselves, or the gradual courses of the campaign. All this
is set down in the chronicles. It is well known what an army raised on
Ukrainian soil, for the orthodox faith, is like. There is no power stronger
than faith. It is threatening and invincible like a rock, and rising amidst
the stormy, ever-changing sea. From the very bottom of the sea it rears to
heaven its jagged sides of firm, impenetrable stone. It is visible from
everywhere, and looks the waves straight in the face as they roll past. And
woe to the ship which is dashed against it! Its frame flies into splinters,
everything in it is split and crushed, and the startled air re-echoes the
piteous cries of the drowning.
In the pages of the chronicles there is a minute description of how the
Polish garrisons fled from the freed cities; how the unscrupulous Jewish
tavern-keepers were hung; how powerless was the royal hetman, Nikolai
Pototzky, with his numerous army, against this invincible force; how, routed
and pursued, he lost the best of his troops by drowning in a small stream;
how the fierce Kozak regiments besieged him in the little town of Polon;
and how, reduced to extremities, he promised, under oath, on the part of the
king and the government, its full satisfaction to all, and the restoration
of all their rights and privileges. But the Kozaks were not men to give
way for this. They already knew well what a Polish oath was worth. And
Pototzky would never more have pranced on his six-thousand ducat horse from
the Kabardei, attracting the glances of distinguished ladies and the envy of
the nobility; he would never more have made a figure in the Diet, by giving
costly feasts to the senators--if the Ukrainian priests who were in the little
town had not saved him. When all the popes, in their brilliant gold
vestments, went out to meet the Kozaks, bearing the holy pictures and the
cross, with the bishop himself at their head, crosier in hand and mitre on
his head, the Kozaks all bowed their heads and took off their caps. To no
one lower than the king himself would they have shown respect at such an
hour; but their daring fell before the Church of Christ, and they honoured
their priesthood. The hetman and leaders agreed to release Pototzky, after
having extracted from him a solemn oath to leave all the Christian churches
unmolested, to forswear the ancient enmity, and to do no harm to the Kozak
forces. One leader alone would not consent to such a peace. It was Taras. He
tore a handful of hair from his head, and cried:
"Hetman and leaders! Commit no such womanish deed. Trust not the Lyakhs;
slay the dogs!"
When the secretary presented the agreement, and the hetman put his hand
to it, Taras drew a genuine Damascene blade, a costly Turkish sabre of the
finest steel, broke it in twain like a reed, and threw the two pieces far
away on each side, saying, "Farewell! As the two pieces of this sword will
never reunite and form one sword again, so we, comrades, shall nevermore
behold each other in this world. Remember my parting words." As he spoke his
voice grew stronger, rose higher, and acquired a hitherto unknown power; and
his prophetic utterances troubled them all. "Before the death hour you will
remember me! Do you think that you have purchased peace and quiet? do you
think that you will make a great show? You will make a great show, but after
another fashion. They will flay the skin from your head, hetman, they will
stuff it with bran, and long will it be exhibited at fairs. Neither will you
retain your heads, gentles. You will be thrown into damp dungeons, walled
about with stone, if they do not boil you alive in cauldrons like sheep. And
you, men," he continued, turning to his followers, "which of you wants to
die his true death? not through sorrows and the ale-house; but an honourable
Kozak death, all in one bed, like bride and groom? But, perhaps, you would
like to return home, and turn infidels, and carry Polish priests on your
backs?"
"We will follow you, noble leader, we will follow you!" shouted all his
band, and many others joined them.
"If it is to be so, then follow me," said Taras, pulling his cap farther
over his brows. Looking menacingly at the others, he went to his horse, and
cried to his men, "Let no one reproach us with any insulting speeches. Now,
hey there, men! we'll call on the Catholics." And then he struck his horse,
and there followed him a camp of a hundred wagons, and with them many
Kozak cavalry and infantry; and, turning, he threatened with a glance all
who remained behind, and wrath was in his eye. The band departed in full
view of all the army, and Taras continued long to turn and glower.
The hetman and leaders were uneasy; all became thoughtful, and remained
silent, as though oppressed by some heavy foreboding. Not in vain had Taras
prophesied: all came to pass as he had foretold. A little later, after the
treacherous attack at Kaneva, the hetman's head was mounted on a stake,
together with those of many of his officers.
And what of Taras? Taras made raids all over Poland with his band, burned
eighteen towns and nearly forty churches, and reached Krakow. He killed many
nobles, and plundered some of the richest and finest castles. The Kozaks
emptied on the ground the century-old mead and wine, carefully hoarded up in
lordly cellars; they cut and burned the rich garments and equipments which
they found in the wardrobes. "Spare nothing," was the order of Taras. The
Kozaks spared not the black-browed gentlewomen, the brilliant,
white-bosomed maidens: these could not save themselves even at the altar,
for Taras burned them with the altar itself. Snowy hands were raised to
heaven from amid fiery flames, with piteous shrieks which would have moved
the damp earth itself to pity and caused the steppe-grass to bend with
compassion at their fate. But the cruel Kozaks paid no heed; and, raising
the children in the streets upon the points of their lances, they cast them
also into the flames.
"This is a mass for the soul of Ostap, you heathen Lyakhs," was all that
Taras said. And such masses for Ostap he had sung in every village, until
the Polish Government perceived that Taras's raids were more than ordinary
expeditions for plunder; and Pototzky was given five regiments, and ordered
to capture him without fail.
Six days did the Kozaks retreat along the by-roads before their
pursuers; their horses were almost equal to this unchecked flight, and
nearly saved them. But this time Pototzky was also equal to the task
intrusted to him; unweariedly he followed them, and overtook them on the
bank of the Dniester, where Taras had taken possession of an abandoned and
ruined castle for the purpose of resting.
On the very brink of the Dniester it stood, with its shattered ramparts
and the ruined remnants of its walls. The summit of the cliff was strewn
with ragged stones and broken bricks, ready at any moment to detach
themselves. The royal hetman, Pototzky, surrounded it on the two sides which
faced the plain. Four days did the Kozaks fight, tearing down bricks and
stones for missiles. But their stones and their strength were at length
exhausted, and Taras resolved to cut his way through the beleaguering
forces. And the Kozaks would have cut their way through, and their swift
steeds might again have served them faithfully, had not Taras halted
suddenly in the very midst of their flight, and shouted, "Halt! my pipe has
dropped with its tobacco: I won't let those heathen Lyakhs have my pipe!"
And the old hetman stooped down, and felt in the grass for his pipe full of
tobacco, his inseparable companion on all his expeditions by sea and land
and at home.
But in the meantime a band of Lyakhs suddenly rushed up, and seized him
by the shoulders. He struggled with all might; but he could not scatter on
the earth, as he had been wont to do, the heydukes who had seized him. "Oh,
old age, old age!" he exclaimed: and the stout old Kozak wept. But his age
was not to blame: nearly thirty men were clinging to his arms and legs.
"The raven is caught!" yelled the Lyakhs. "We must think how we can show
him the most honour, the dog!" They decided, with the permission of the
hetman, to burn him alive in the sight of all. There stood hard by a
leafless tree, the summit of which had been struck by lightning. They
fastened him with iron chains and nails driven through his hands high up on
the trunk of the tree, so that he might be seen from all sides; and began at
once to place fagots at its foot. But Taras did not look at the wood, nor
did he think of the fire with which they were preparing to roast him: he
gazed anxiously in the direction whence his Kozaks were firing. From his
high point of observation he could see everything as in the palm of his
hand.
"Take possession, men," he shouted, "of the hillock behind the wood: they
cannot climb it!" But the wind did not carry his words to them. "They are
lost, lost!" he said in despair, and glanced down to where the water of the
Dniester glittered. Joy gleamed in his eyes. He saw the sterns of four boats
peeping out from behind some bushes; exerted all the power of his lungs, and
shouted in a ringing tone, "To the bank, to the bank, men! descend the path
to the left, under the cliff. There are boats on the bank; take all, that
they may not catch you."
This time the breeze blew from the other side, and his words were audible
to the Kozaks. But for this counsel he received a blow on the head with
the back of an axe, which made everything dance before his eyes.
The Kozaks descended the cliff path at full speed, but their pursuers
were at their heels. They looked: the path wound and twisted, and made many
détours to one side. "Comrades, we are trapped!" said they. All
halted for an instant, raised their whips, whistled, and their Tatar horses
rose from the ground, clove the air like serpents, flew over the precipice,
and plunged straight into the Dniester. Two only did not alight in the
river, but thundered down from the height upon the stones, and perished
there with their horses without uttering a cry. But the Kozaks had already
swum shoreward from their horses, and unfastened the boats, when the Lyakhs
halted on the brink of the precipice, astounded by this wonderful feat, and
thinking, "Shall we jump down to them, or not?"
One young colonel, a lively, hot-blooded soldier, own brother to the
beautiful Pole who had seduced poor Andríi, did not reflect long, but leaped
with his horse after the Kozaks. He made three turns in the air with his
steed, and fell heavily on the rocks. The sharp stones tore him in pieces;
and his brains, mingled with blood, bespattered the shrubs growing on the
uneven walls of the precipice.
When Taras Bulba recovered from the blow, and glanced towards the
Dniester, the Kozaks were already in the skiffs and rowing away. Balls
were showered upon them from above but did not reach them. And the old
hetman's eyes sparkled with joy.
"Farewell, comrades!" he shouted to them from above; "remember me, and
come hither again next spring and make merry in the same fashion! What!
cursed Lyakhs, have ye caught me? Think ye there is anything in the world
that a Kozak fears? Wait; the time will come when ye shall learn what the
orthodox Ukrainian faith is! Already the people scent it far and near. A czar
shall arise from Ukrainian soil, and there shall not be a power in the world
which shall not submit to him!" But fire had already risen from the fagots;
it lapped his feet, and the flame spread to the tree. . . . But can any
fire, flames, or power be found on earth which are capable of overpowering
Ukrainian strength?
Broad is the river Dniester, and in it are many deep pools, dense
reed-beds, clear shallows and little bays; its watery mirror gleams, filled
with the melodious plaint of the swan, the proud wild goose glides swiftly
over it; and snipe, red-throated ruffs, and other birds are to be found
among the reeds and along the banks. The Kozaks rowed swiftly on in the
narrow double-ruddered boats--rowed stoutly, carefully shunning the sand
bars, and cleaving the ranks of the birds, which took wing--rowed, and
talked of their hetman.
The End![]() |