Taras Bulba HE SUN had not ascended midway in the heavens when all the army
assembled in a group. News had come from the Sich that during the Kozaks'
absence the Tatars had plundered it completely, unearthed the treasures
which were kept concealed in the ground, killed or carried into captivity
all who had remained behind, and straightway set out, with all the flocks
and droves of horses they had collected, for Perekop. One Kozak only,
Maksin Galodukha, had broken loose from the Tatars' hands, stabbed the
Mirza, seized his bag of sequins, and on a Tatar horse, in Tatar garments,
had fled from his pursuers for two nights and a day and a half, ridden his
horse to death, obtained another, killed that one too, and arrived at the
Zaporozhian camp upon a third, having learned upon the road that the
Zaporozhtzi were before Dubno. He could only manage to tell them that this
misfortune had taken place; but as to how it happened--whether the remaining
Zaporozhtzi had been carousing after Kozak fashion, and had been carried
drunk into captivity, and how the Tatars were aware of the spot where the
treasures of the army were concealed--he was too exhausted to say. Extremely
fatigued, his body swollen, and his face scorched and weatherbeaten, he had
fallen down, and a deep sleep had overpowered him.
In such cases it was customary for the Kozaks to pursue the robbers at
once, endeavouring to overtake them on the road; for, let the prisoners once
be got to the bazaars of Asia Minor, Smyrna, or the island of Crete, and God
knows in what places the tufted heads of Zaporozhtzi might not be seen. This
was the occasion of the Kozaks' assembling. They all stood to a man with
their caps on; for they had not met to listen to the commands of their
hetman, but to take counsel together as equals among equals. "Let the old
men first advise," was shouted to the crowd. "Let the Koschevoi give his
opinion," cried others.
The Koschevoi, taking off his cap and speaking not as commander, but as a
comrade among comrades, thanked all the Kozaks for the honour, and said,
"There are among us many experienced men and much wisdom; but since you have
thought me worthy, my counsel is not to lose time in pursuing the Tatars,
for you know yourselves what the Tatar is. He will not pause with his stolen
booty to await our coming, but will vanish in a twinkling, so that you can
find no trace of him. Therefore my advice is to go. We have had good sport
here. The Lyakhs now know what Kozaks are. We have avenged our faith to
the extent of our ability; there is not much to satisfy greed in the
famished city, and so my advice is to go."
"To go," rang heavily through the Zaporozhian kuréns. But such words did
not suit Taras Bulba at all; and he brought his frowning, iron-grey brows
still lower down over his eyes, brows like bushes growing on dark mountain
heights, whose crowns are suddenly covered with sharp northern frost.
"No, Koschevoi, your counsel is not good," said he. "You cannot say that.
You have evidently forgotten that those of our men captured by the Lyakhs
will remain prisoners. You evidently wish that we should not heed the first
holy law of comradeship; that we should leave our brethren to be flayed
alive, or carried about through the towns and villages after their Kozak
bodies have been quartered, as was done with the hetman and the bravest
warriors in the Ukraine. Have the enemy not desecrated the holy
things sufficiently without that? What are we? I ask you all what sort of a
Kozak is he who would desert his comrade in misfortune, and let him perish
like a dog in a foreign land? If it has come to such a pass that no one has
any confidence in Kozak honour, permitting men to spit upon his grey
moustache, and upbraid him with offensive words, then let no one blame me; I
will remain here alone."
All the Zaporozhtzi who were there wavered.
"And have you forgotten, brave comrades," said the Koschevoi, "that the
Tatars also have comrades of ours in their hands; that if we do not rescue
them now their lives will be sacrificed in eternal imprisonment among the
infidels, which is worse than the most cruel death? Have you forgotten that
they now hold all our treasure, won by Christian blood?"
The Kozaks reflected, not knowing what to say. None of them wished to
deserve ill repute. Then there stepped out in front of them the oldest in
years of all the Zaporozhian army, Kasyan Bovdug. He was respected by all
the Kozaks. Twice had he been chosen Koschevoi, and had also been a stout
warrior; but he had long been old, and had ceased to go upon raids. Neither
did the old man like to give advice to any one; but loved to lie upon his
side in the circle of Kozaks, listening to tales of every occurrence on
the Kozak marches. He never joined in the conversation, but only listened,
and pressed the ashes with his finger in his short pipe, which never left
his mouth; and would sit so long with his eyes half open, that the Kozaks
never knew whether he were asleep or still listening. He always stayed at
home during their raids, but this time the old man had joined the army. He
had waved his hand in Kozak fashion, and said, "Wherever you go, I am
going too; perhaps I may be of some service to the Kozak nation." All the
Kozaks became silent when he now stepped forward before the assembly, for
it was long since any speech from him had been heard. Every one wanted to
know what Bovdug had to say.
"It is my turn to speak a word, brother gentles," he began: "listen, my
children, to an old man. The Koschevoi spoke well as the head of the Kozak
army; being bound to protect it, and in respect to the treasures of the army
he could say nothing wiser. That is so! Let that be my first remark; but now
listen to my second. And this is my second remark: Taras spoke even more
truly. God grant him many years, and that such leaders may be plentiful in
the Ukraine! A Kozak's first duty and honour is to guard comradeship.
Never in all my life, brother gentles, have I heard of any Kozak deserting
or betraying any of his comrades. Both those made captive at the Sich and
these taken here are our comrades. Whether they be few or many, it makes no
difference; all are our comrades, and all are dear to us. So this is my
speech: Let those to whom the prisoners captured by the Tatars are dear set
out after the Tatars; and let those to whom the captives of the Poles are
dear, and who do not care to desert a righteous cause, stay behind. The
Koschevoi, in accordance with his duty, will accompany one half in pursuit
of the Tatars, and the other half can choose a hetman to lead them. But if
you will heed the words of an old man, there is no man fitter to be the
commanding hetman than Taras Bulba. Not one of us is his equal in heroism."
Thus spoke Bovdug, and paused; and all the Kozaks rejoiced that the old
man had in this manner brought them to an agreement. All flung up their caps
and shouted, "Thanks, father! He kept silence for a long, long time, but he
has spoken at last. Not in vain did he say, when we prepared for this
expedition, that he might be useful to the Kozak nation: even so it has
come to pass!"
"Well, are you agreed upon anything?" asked the Koschevoi.
"We are all agreed!" cried the Kozaks.
"Then the council is at an end?"
"At an end!" cried the Kozaks.
"Then listen to the military command, children," said the Koschevoi,
stepping forward, and putting on his cap; whilst all the Kozaks took off
theirs, and stood with uncovered heads, and with eyes fixed upon the earth,
as was always the custom among them when the leader prepared to speak. "Now
divide yourselves, brother gentles! Let those who wish to go stand on the
right, and those who wish to stay, on the left. Where the majority of a
kurén goes there its officers are to go: if the minority of a kurén goes
over, it must be added to another kurén."
Then they began to take up their positions, some to the right and some to
the left. Whither the majority of a kurén went thither the hetman went also;
and the minority attached itself to another kurén. It came out pretty even
on both sides. Those who wished to remain were nearly the whole of the
Nezamáikovsky kurén, the entire Oumansky kurén, the entire Kanevsky kurén,
and the larger half of the Popóvitchvsky, the Timoschevsky and the
Steblikivsky kuréns. All the rest preferred to go in pursuit of the Tatars.
On both sides there were many stout and brave Kozaks. Among those who
decided to follow the Tatars were Tcherevaty, and those good old Kozaks
Pokótipole, Lemisch, and Prokopovitch Koma. Demid Popovitch also went with
that party, because he could not sit long in one place: he had tried his
hand on the Lyakhs and wanted to try it on the Tatars also. The hetmans of
kuréns were Nostiugan, Pókruischka, Nevnimsky, and numerous brave and
renowned Kozaks who wished to test their swords and muscles in an
encounter with the Tatars. There were likewise many brave Kozaks among
those who preferred to remain, including the kurén hetmans, Demitrovitch,
Kukubenko, Vertikhvist, Balán, and Ostap Bulba. Besides these there were
plenty of stout and distinguished warriors: Vovtuzenko, Tcherevitchénko,
Stepan Guska, Okhrim Guska, Vikola Gonstiy, Zadorozhniy, Metélitza, Ivan
Zakrutíguba, Mostly Schilo, Degtyarénko, Sidorenko, Pisarenko, a second
Pisarenko, and still another Pisarenko, and many others. They were all great
travellers; they had visited the shores of Anatolia, the salt marshes and
steppes of the Crimea, all the rivers great and small which empty into the
Dnieper, and all the fords and islands of the Dnieper; they had been in
Moldavia, Wallachia, and Turkey; they had sailed all over the Black Sea, in
their double-ruddered Kozak boats; they had attacked with fifty skiffs in
line the tallest and richest ships; they had sunk many a Turkish galley, and
had burnt much, very much powder in their day; more than once they had made
foot-bandages from velvets and rich stuffs; more than once they had beaten
buckles for their girdles out of sequins. Every one of them had drunk and
revelled away what would have sufficed any other for a whole lifetime, and
had nothing to show for it. They spent it all, like Kozaks, in treating
all the world, and in hiring music that every one might be merry. Even now
few of them had amassed any property: some caskets, cups, and bracelets were
hidden beneath the reeds on the islands of the Dnieper in order that the
Tatars might not find them if by mishap they should succeed in falling
suddenly on the Sich; but it would have been difficult for the Tatars to
find them, for the owners themselves had forgotten where they had buried
them. Such were the Kozaks who wished to remain and take vengeance on the
Lyakhs for their trusty comrades and the faith of Christ. The old Kozak
Bovdug wished also to remain with them, saying, "I am not of an age to
pursue the Tatars, but this is a place to meet a good Kozak death. I have
long prayed God that when my life was to end I might end it in battle for a
holy and Christian cause. And so it has come to pass. There can be no more
glorious end in any other place for the aged Kozak."
When they had all separated, and were ranged in two lines on opposite
sides, the Koschevoi passed through the ranks, and said, "Well, brother
gentles, are the two parties satisfied with each other?"
"All satisfied, father!" replied the Kozaks.
"Then kiss each other, and bid each other farewell; for God knows whether
you will ever see each other alive again. Obey your hetman, but you know
yourselves what you have to do: you know yourselves what Kozak honour
requires."
And all the Kozaks kissed each other. The hetmans first began it.
Stroking down their grey moustaches, they kissed each other, making the sign
of the cross, and then, grasping hands firmly, wanted to ask of each other,
"Well, brother, shall we see one another again or not?" But they did not ask
the question: they kept silence, and both grey-heads were lost in thought.
Then the Kozaks took leave of each other to the last man, knowing that
there was a great deal of work before them all. Yet they were not obliged to
part at once: they would have to wait until night in order not to let the
Lyakhs perceive the diminution in the Kozak army. Then all went off, by
kuréns, to dine.
After dinner, all who had the prospect of the journey before them lay
down to rest, and fell into a deep and long sleep, as though foreseeing that
it was the last sleep they should enjoy in such security. They slept even
until sunset; and when the sun had gone down and it had grown somewhat
dusky, began to tar the wagons. All being in readiness, they sent the
wagons ahead, and having pulled off their caps once more to their comrades,
quietly followed the baggage train. The cavalry, without shouts or whistles
to the horses, tramped lightly after the foot-soldiers, and all soon
vanished in the darkness. The only sound was the dull thud of horses' hoofs,
or the squeak of some wheel which had not got into working order, or had not
been properly tarred amid the darkness.
Their comrades stood for some time waving their hands, though nothing was
visible. But when they returned to their camping places and saw by the light
of the gleaming stars that half the wagons were gone, and many of their
comrades, each man's heart grew sad; all became involuntarily pensive, and
drooped their heads towards the earth.
Taras saw how troubled were the Kozak ranks, and that sadness, unsuited
to brave men, had begun to quietly master the Kozak hearts; but he
remained silent. He wished to give them time to become accustomed to the
melancholy caused by their parting from their comrades; but, meanwhile, he
was preparing to rouse them at one blow, by a loud battle-cry in Kozak
fashion, in order that good cheer might return to the soul of each with
greater strength than before. Of this only the Slav nature, a broad,
powerful nature, which is to others what the sea is to small rivulets, is
capable. In stormy times it roars and thunders, raging, and raising such
waves as weak rivers cannot throw up; but when it is windless and quiet, it
spreads its boundless glassy surface, clearer than any river, a constant
delight to the eye.
Taras ordered his servants to unload one of the wagons which stood
apart. It was larger and stronger than any other in the Kozak camp; two
stout tires encircled its mighty wheels. It was heavily laden, covered with
horsecloths and strong wolf-skins, and firmly bound with tightly drawn
tarred ropes. In the wagon were flasks and casks of good old wine, which
had long lain in Taras's cellar. He had brought it along, in case a moment
should arrive when some deed awaited them worthy of being handed down to
posterity, so that each Kozak, to the very last man, might quaff it, and
be inspired with sentiments fitting to the occasion. On receiving his
command, the servants hastened to the wagon, hewed asunder the stout ropes
with their swords, removed the thick wolf-skins and horsecloths, and drew
forth the flasks and casks.
"Take them all," said Bulba, "all there are; take them, that every one
may be supplied. Take jugs, or the pails for watering the horses; take
sleeve or cap; but if you have nothing else, then hold your two hands
under."
All the Kozaks seized something: one took a jug, another a pail,
another a sleeve, another a cap, and another held both hands. Taras's
servants, making their way among the ranks, poured out for all from the
casks and flasks. But Taras ordered them not to drink until he should give
the signal for all to drink together. It was evident that he wished to say
something. He knew that however good in itself the wine might be and however
fitted to strengthen the spirit of man, yet, if a suitable speech were
linked with it, then the strength of the wine and of the spirit would be
doubled.
"I treat you, brother gentles," thus spoke Bulba, "not in honour of your
having made me hetman, however great such an honour may be, nor in honour of
our parting from our comrades. To do both would be fitting at a fitting
time; but the moment before us is not such a time. The work before us is
great both in labour and in glory for the Kozaks. Therefore let us drink
all together, let us drink before all else to the holy orthodox faith, that
the day may finally come when it may be spread over all the world, and that
everywhere there may be but one faith, and that all Muslims may become
Christians. And let us also drink together to the Sich, that it may stand
long for the ruin of the Muslims, and that every year there may issue
forth from it young men, each better, each handsomer than the other. And let
us drink to our own glory, that our grandsons and their sons may say that
there were once men who were not ashamed of comradeship, and who never
betrayed each other. Now to the faith, brother gentles, to the faith!"
"To the faith!" cried those standing in the ranks hard by, with thick
voices. "To the faith!" those more distant took up the cry; and all, both
young and old, drank to the faith.
"To the Sich!" said Taras, raising his hand high above his head.
"To the Sich!" echoed the foremost ranks. "To the Sich!" said the old
men, softly, twitching their grey moustaches; and eagerly as young hawks,
the youths repeated, "To the Sich!" And the distant plain heard how the
Kozaks mentioned their Sich.
"Now a last draught, comrades, to the glory of all Christians now living
in the world!"
And every Kozak drank a last draught to the glory of all Christians in
the world. And among all the ranks in the kuréns they long repeated, "To all
the Christians in the world!"
The pails were empty, but the Kozaks still stood with their hands
uplifted. Although the eyes of all gleamed brightly with the wine, they were
thinking deeply. Not of greed or the spoils of war were they thinking now,
nor of who would be lucky enough to get ducats, fine weapons, embroidered
caftans, and Tcherkessian horses; but they meditated like eagles perched
upon the rocky crests of mountains, from which the distant sea is visible,
dotted, as with tiny birds, with galleys, ships, and every sort of vessel,
bounded only by the scarcely visible lines of shore, with their ports like
gnats and their forests like fine grass. Like eagles they gazed out on all
the plain, with their fate darkling in the distance. All the plain, with its
slopes and roads, will be covered with their white projecting bones,
lavishly washed with their Kozak blood, and strewn with shattered wagons
and with broken swords and spears; the eagles will swoop down and tear out
their Kozak eyes. But there is one grand advantage: not a single noble
deed will be lost, and the Kozak glory will not vanish like the tiniest
grain of powder from a gun-barrel. The guitar-player with grey beard falling
upon his breast, and perhaps a white-headed old man still full of ripe,
manly strength will come, and will speak his low, strong words of them. And
their glory will resound through all the world, and all who are born
thereafter will speak of them; for the word of power is carried afar,
ringing like a booming brazen bell, in which the maker has mingled much
rich, pure silver, that is beautiful sound may be borne far and wide through
the cities, villages, huts, and palaces, summoning all betimes to holy
prayer. |