SIGNS OF FAILURE.
About the very time when the authorities at Colomea were holding their
war council, a remarkable occurrence took place at Zulawce. It was
Ascension Day, and a general meeting had been called.
The men of Zulawce were in a difficulty of their own; for, while all
the rest of the parishes within the disturbed district were at least
free to side either with the Government or with the avenger, as seemed
best to suit their temper or their interests, the people of Zulawce
could do neither. They considered they had done with Taras; for had he
not insulted them beyond forgiveness by refusing to rid them of the
soldiers? But no less implacable was their resentment against the
authorities who had inflicted the soldiers upon them; and even after
the company had withdrawn its hateful presence, they continued in a
high state of ill-humour and uncertainty of mind, which rendered them
unfit for any united action. It was this very want of decision,
however, which proved helpful to Father Leo in his strenuous efforts to
prevent any deed of violence; for though there were few among them that
would not have loved to see the manor plundered or set on fire, now
that it was left at their mercy, none quite dared to assume the
responsibility of taking the lead in such an act. Still, this, or any
similar outrage, might any day be looked for; and since the helpless
Jewgeni did nothing for the maintenance of order, Father Leo, assisted
by some of the more steady-going of his parishioners, succeeded in
bringing together a sort of committee, which was to take in hand the
settlement of affairs in the distracted village. The six men, however,
upon whom this office devolved did not at first seem more likely to
arrive at a united opinion with whom to cast in their sympathy than the
parish at large had been; but they managed by degrees to sink
differences in a sort of compromise of a peculiar kind, and quite
unprecedented even in the history of that remarkable people. The
resolution arrived at ran as follows:--
"This is to give notice that since Taras has left us in the lurch, and
the men of the law have wronged us, we repudiate them both now and
evermore! It is their fault if we men of Zulawce, in this time of
trouble, have come to the conclusion that we had better in future be
our own administrators, recognising no one in authority over us, save
the judge of our own choosing. We intend henceforth to pay neither tax
nor tribute to any outsider, and we shall render forced labour to no
man; but we will live justly and peaceably, wronging none either in
life or property. We insist on taking back the field which belongs to
us; but we will guard the manor as carefully as though it were left to
the parish in trust by one of ourselves absent for a time." So then the
committee of affairs at Zulawce, after this fashion, and quite ignorant
of its classical prototypes, had arrived at the idea of the republic,
proposing Simeon Pomenko as the fittest man to preside as "free judge"
over the parish interests.
The announcement was received enthusiastically, and on the day in
question all the community once more had gathered beneath the linden,
where the new order of things was to be promulgated. The place was as
crowded as on the Palm Sunday when Taras had made his memorable speech.
Two only were absent--Father Leo, who of course could not officially
acknowledge this change of government, although he would not deny that
for the present it seemed the likeliest arrangement for arriving at
anything like order in the parish; and she whom he had termed the most
unhappy widow of the place, poor Anusia, who since that service on
Easter Sunday had left the house only when her presence was absolutely
necessary about the farm. She continued an object of interest, and was
talked about daily; but, with natural tact, the villagers forebore
troubling her with calls, and passed her in silence when they met on
the rare occasions of her being about the fields; for even the roughest
of them felt that her sorrow, and the silent dignity with which she
bore it, commanded their reverence. And it redounds not a little to the
honour of that wild community, that even on the day when their fury ran
highest, when Wassilj and Hritzko had returned with Taras's answer,
none had thought of casting it up to the widow, or of offering her any
insult whatever.
The bearing of the assembly was grave and even solemn. "Men and
brothers," said Simeon, "it would be a disgrace if we could not rule
ourselves and re-establish order in this village of ours! The country
is full of uproar and sedition; let peace and honest labour have their
place here--so be it!" On account of the intended independence of the
community, and because of the pressure of the times, there would
naturally be an increase of parish business; and it was resolved
therefore that three elders henceforth would be required, and they were
nominated. Alexa Sembrow was to act as "home minister,"--the common
field and the fair distribution of its produce should be his especial
care; while Wassilj, the butcher, should see to the external safety of
the place; Wilko Sembratowicz, the third of the number, serving as
treasurer.
This arranged, the assembly fell into a procession, and with bared
heads proceeded to the field of strife, amid the ringing of bells and
the solemn strains of the _Te Deum_. The "free judge" and his elders
led the march, and with their own hands, while the singing continued,
they pulled the black cross from its present place, replanting it where
it had stood formerly, at three feet distance from the river. This
done, the four white-haired men fell on their knees, and, spreading
forth their arms, thrice kissed the recovered soil, all the people
doing likewise, amid sobs and tears.
After which Simeon stepped forth, saying: "I require every one here to
witness, as I also ask Him above, that we have only taken back that
which belongs to us by right, and which was taken from us by a wicked
fraud.... We pray Thee, Thou Ruler above, to prevent such fraud in the
future, and we will fight to the death rather than permit it again.
This is our solemn oath!"
"Our solemn oath!" repeated the men in chorus, lifting their right
hands. And with faces beaming with satisfaction the people returned to
the village.
Nor was their confidence at all lowered for some little time. The word
of the free judge seemed being fulfilled, peace and diligence
continuing here, while bloodshed and misery spread over the land.
Neither was the village interfered with for changing its constitution,
the authorities and the troops having more than enough on their hands
already. No illusion had prevailed at that war council at Colomea
concerning the difficulty of dealing with the bandits; but the utter
failure of all operations hitherto exceeded even the worst
anticipations. In fact, the chance had never yet offered for having
even a brush with the enemy; and although the flying columns continued
to scour the land, never a hajdamak did they set eyes upon. They
somehow always arrived just too late, or they sought for them on the
banks of the Dniester while they did their work by the Pruth; or strove
to protect the east of the province, where the avenger had just been
heard of, while Taras quietly, but surely, carried out his judgments in
the west. It seemed altogether useless that the number of soldiers out
against him was doubled, and even trebled, by the arrival of further
troops; and nothing seemed to come of spending large sums of money upon
private spies, when the mandatars and others grew shy of giving their
information, lest they should suffer for it sooner or later. Taras,
with all the machinery of Government against him, continued his awful
work, utterly undisturbed, all through May and June; nor did the
presence of soldiers throughout the troubled districts hinder him in
the least from extending his raids far and wide, and making his power
felt in every direction. And, in spite of the almost appalling
penetration he showed in singling out his victims, never mistaking the
innocent for the guilty--in spite of his repeated injunctions to the
peasantry to forbear from acts of violence themselves, and to render
every just tribute conscientiously--the terror at the jurisdiction he
had established, as it were, in the face of the law, and which one
would scarcely have conceived possible within the boundaries of a
powerful, well-ordered State, grew and spread till nothing short of a
panic filled the length and breadth of the land. The authorities had to
listen to the wildest reproaches of the excited people, although they
strained every nerve in the execution of their duty. But with all their
honest efforts they could not even suggest an explanation of the means
by which this strange bandit was holding his ground against them. With
their erroneous notions concerning his numbers, their absolute
ignorance of his hiding-places--of which the bog-island near Nazurna
was the most important--and not in the least aware to what extent the
peasantry aided and abetted him as his willing informers, the speed and
temerity of his movements could not but be a mystery. He seemed
everywhere and nowhere, and did his work with impunity. By the middle
of July four thousand soldiers were out against him, and yet it
appeared hopeless to look for an ending of this reign of terror.
Now the men of Zulawce watched this state of affairs rather with
satisfaction than otherwise. For the more useless military intervention
appeared, the greater was their confidence in being able to maintain
their self-constituted liberty unmolested. But all of a sudden the day
dawned that should teach them it was not so easy to break away from the
leading-strings of sovereignty.
It was a dull, grey morning in July; rain was pouring in endless
streams. The sodden roads were deserted, and so were the fields. The
two fellows whom Wassilj, the butcher, had placed by the toll-booth
near the river, did stay at their post, it is true, for the place was
dry and comfortable enough, but instead of keeping a careful look-out,
they had retired to their pallets and were snoring blissfully. These
somnolent youths started suddenly, rubbing their eyes, for heavy
footfalls on the wooden bridge had broken on their slumbers; they
stared, wondering if they could be dreaming; but no, it was flat
reality--they even recognised the face of the officer who was leading
hither his men, Captain Stanczuk. They rushed from the booth, fired off
their muskets by way of giving the alarm, and, racing towards the
village, they kept shouting at the top of their voices. The soldiers
had to slacken their pace on account of the fearful state of the roads,
so that the youths reached the village a good while before them.
And when Captain Stanczuk brought up his men in sight of the inn, he
found the road barricaded by some overturned waggons, while bundles of
faggots were being heaped up hastily, and some fifty men stood with
muskets levelled, ready to defend the place. Now Stanczuk had special
orders to avoid bloodshed, if possible; but his kindly prudence hardly
required such instruction. He stopped the advance of his men within a
hundred yards of the villagers, and, riding on by himself fearlessly,
requested to parley with the judge.
"My father is not here yet," replied Hritzko. "But there will be no
parleying, save by means of bullets."
"Well," replied the captain, quietly, "if you set so little store by
your lives, I cannot help it. But not being such a foolhardy idiot
myself I think I will just wait for your father's pleasure." And
turning his horse, he rode back to his men.
He had to wait a considerable while, but not in vain. The number of men
holding the barricade had, indeed, increased till almost every man of
the village was present, and nearly all were in a belligerent mood; but
behind them their wives were lamenting, preparing the way for the
pope's and the judge's influence. It would be no more than good sense,
these urged, to hear first what the officer might have to say; and
after some altercation it was agreed that Simeon, with his son and the
three elders, should accompany Father Leo to the soldiers.
The captain rode forth to meet them. "Good day to your reverence, and
good day to you all!" he said, smiling pleasantly. "I have been waiting
patiently for an explanation of this nonsense! Don't you think you are
rather foolish, considering the times?"
The half-bantering tone of his address somewhat disconcerted them, but
after a pause the judge returned: "Then what are you here for, captain?
If you have any idea of calling us to order after your fashion, we'll
just defend ourselves. And as for the field we have taken back----"
"Your fields are no business of mine," said the officer, as blandly as
before, "and you may continue King of Zulawce yet awhile, my good
friend. My present orders concern no one but Anusia Barabola and her
children. I have to arrest them, and take them to Colomea."
"That shall never be!" cried Hritzko furiously, and even Father Leo
flushed crimson with indignation.
"It would be nothing short of a dastardly wrong, captain!" he
exclaimed. "I pledge my life that the poor woman has no share whatever
in her husband's doings."
The honest officer winced. "Your reverence is aware," he said, lowering
his voice, "that the soldier's duty is to obey his orders, and not to
question them."
"And the poor children, are they to be held accountable for their
father?"
"I have to obey my instructions," repeated Stanczuk; "and if your
reverence will use your influence and prevent any interference with my
duty, you will but act in accordance with the sacred office you bear."
The pope was silent; but even if he had shared the officer's views and
fallen in with his suggestion as to his influence, he would have had
little chance of exercising it. For the peasants had decided for
themselves, old Simeon stepping forth, saying as he crossed himself:
"Sir captain, while there is a man alive here to defend her, you shall
not lay hands on this unhappy woman and her children. We are fully
aware that we endanger our own wives and children in opposing you, but
we cannot help it. Why, we should deserve to be struck dead on the spot
if we suffered such wickedness against the widow and her orphans.
There, you may do your duty--we shall do ours!"
He turned to go, but the captain touched his arm, almost pleadingly.
"Have you really considered," he cried, "what misery your refusal may
bring on this village? There is bloodshed enough in these days; do not
add to it, I pray you. Go and consult the people--I will wait."
But Simeon shook his head and turned away without another word,
followed by the rest of them, Father Leo included. When they had
reached the barricade and informed the people of the demand made upon
them, there was but one voice of indignant refusal. Anusia's servant,
Halko, rushed off towards the farm, but all the rest of the men stood
like a wall, crying: "You have spoken well, judge, we will never permit
it!" And the women ceased wailing, but Father Leo, with speechless
agony, folded his hands, looking on.
Hritzko took the command, and the peasants, besides holding several of
the cottages near, stationed themselves all about the raised ground on
which the church stood, where they found ample cover. They knelt with
muskets levelled, prepared to fire.
"Let them approach within thirty paces," cried Hritzko, "and, at a sign
from my whistle, receive them with a volley. Be ready!"
The captain waited for twenty minutes, and then, sorely against his
will, drew his sword, and heading his men, gave the word to advance.
The drums beat, the men started at the double, with bayonets fixed.
The peasants, in accordance with the orders received, allowed them to
approach without firing. The soldiers had reached Wilko's cottage, when
Hritzko lifted the whistle to his mouth. But before he could give the
sign, a hand was laid on his arm, pressing it down with a good deal of
force. "You shall not fire!" a loud voice was heard to say
peremptorily; "I will not have it!"
The young man started amazed. Before him, tall and commanding, stood
the wife of Taras, with little Tereska on her arm; an old woman-servant
followed with the little boys, sobbing piteously. The children, too,
were crying. But Anusia, though pale, was calm as death; she stood
erect, and her face bore that expression of stony composure which, ever
since that terrible Palm Sunday, appeared to have taken the place of
her naturally passionate disposition. "I will not have a shot fired,"
she said; "I shall go with the soldiers."
"Anusia!" exclaimed Simeon, "will you deliver up yourself and your poor
children to certain death?"
"We are all in God's hand," she said. "For my sake no wife shall be
made a widow, no child fatherless." ... And, turning to the servant,
she added, "Come!"
But Captain Stanczuk had understood the strange scene, and ordered his
men to halt. The peasants, too, were standing motionless with surprise.
Anusia deliberately went up to the officer. "Here I am," she said, "and
here are my children."
But the gallant soldier, on looking into the tearless, grief-bound face
of that poor peasant woman, was filled with a sensation of awe the like
of which he had never known before. He felt as though he must bend the
knee as to a queen or empress. "Come," he said, reverently, "we brought
a carriage for you."
She nodded, and forthwith would have moved towards the vehicle, which
followed in the rear; but the villagers had recovered themselves, and
were pressing round her. The officer nowise interfered, for he could
see in their faces that they intended no further enmity. They
surrounded her, deeply moved, some even sobbing when she lifted her
children into the carriage as it drew up, and others kissed her
garment, crying, "Farewell, Anusia! we shall never forget it!" Father
Leo breaking out passionately, "You are a brave woman; no saint ever
did a greater thing for her people--it shall not be forgotten,
indeed.... And your farm shall be cared for, we shall be proud to do
it!"
"Thank you," she said, gently, and could no longer forbid her tears,
the big drops running down her face: but soon the rigid calm returned.
"I am quite ready," she said to the officer.
The drums beat, and the procession started, down to the river and
across the bridge, towards the distant town.
At dusk the following day they arrived at Colomea, and that same
evening Anusia was ushered into the presence of the governor.
That honest, stout-hearted gentleman had looked forward to this hour as
to the bitterest trial of his life, and had indeed resisted it as long
as he could; but his remonstrances with the governor of the province
had been fruitless, though seconded by every magistrate of the
district; and even their united request to be dismissed rather than
forced to obey in this matter availed not. The Lemberg authorities had
returned word that no doubt the question of their dismissal might be
considered in due time, but for the present they must keep to their
posts, obeying their superiors. And thus the high-minded old governor
had been obliged with his own hand to draw up the order for an arrest,
which in his eyes was the worst act of violence yet committed; but
having done this, he insisted on conducting the inquiry himself, lest
the wrong he could not help should be carried out harshly. Mr.
Wenceslas Hajek by this time had recovered his sprits sufficiently to
quit his voluntary retreat in the city gaol for his own chambers, and
the apartment he had occupied--not really a cell, but a private room of
the chief warder's--had been made ready for Anusia, the governor
himself superintending the arrangements and giving various directions
for her comfort. This done, he returned to his office, awaiting her
coming with a beating heart.
She entered, but he scarcely found courage to look up, busying himself
with a sheet of paper to hide his emotion.
"Are you cognisant of your husband's crimes, or aiding him in any way?"
"No, sir."
"I am forced, nevertheless, to keep you in custody; but I will have you
well treated. I shall daily inquire after your own and your children's
well-being."
He waved his hand, and Anusia was taken back to her place of
confinement. The old man remained by himself, pacing his office for the
best part of an hoar, deeply agitated; now gesticulating with his
hands, now talking wildly. Having calmed down a little, he returned to
his desk to make his report to the Provincial Governor, adorning it
with all the flourishes approved of by the profession of the period;
but he took care that his dutiful letter should end with these words:
"Never again may a representative of the law within this realm of
Austria feel himself thus lowered in the eyes of the accused brought to
his bar, and may his excellency, the Governor-Provincial, not find
cause to lament the consequences of this measure!"
But even before his note of warning could reach the ears it was meant
for, the thunderbolt of vengeance had fallen--fearfully, terribly
indeed! On the second night after Anusia's arrival at the city gaol the
district governor was roused from sleep--a certain clerk, Joseph Dorn
by name, had arrived with news that brooked no delay.
The poor governor positively shook with apprehension; for that clerk
had been ordered to accompany one of the stipendiary magistrates, who
in the morning had set out to the village of Jablonow, where a certain
matter had to be settled by local evidence. The gentleman's name was
Hohenau, he being a worthy German from the Rhine, advanced in years,
and universally respected for his integrity. Now, although, after the
attack upon Kapronski, Taras had not again laid hands on any officer of
the law, the governor decided, nevertheless, that Hohenau, whom he
loved as a friend, should not undertake the journey, short as it was,
without a special escort of forty dragoons. He was expected to return
late at night; what if the clerk had come back without him!... The
governor tried to battle with this thought as with an apparition.
"Nonsense!" he said; "what should have happened?" and he stepped boldly
into his ante-room. But one look into the man's face showed him that
his fears were only too well founded. That clerk, who had served half
his life as a sergeant of the constabulary, till pensioned off to his
present post, and who was not likely to grow faint at the sight of a
shadow, was leaning against the wall, white as death, and trembling in
every limb.
"He has been killed?" gasped the governor.
"He has!" groaned the clerk.
Herr von Bauer, too, grew faint, catching at a chair-back for support.
At that moment he experienced that most painful of all bodily
sensations, which, though common enough as a figure of speech, is rare
in actual fact, and not likely to be forgotten by the luckless mortal
that ever underwent it! The poor old governor felt his scalp contract
with an icy coldness, every single root of hair pricking into it like a
red-hot needle--_his hair standing on end!_
For a while these two men continued facing each other, terror-struck
and unable to speak, till the governor's lady came rushing in to
inquire into the reason of this late disturbance. Her coming was
opportune, for the governor was obliged to rouse himself to bid her
retire; and turning to the clerk, he said, "Tell me."
At which the latter drew himself up straight and saluted his superior.
And then followed his tale: "There was much to be done at Jablonow," he
said, "and it was eight o'clock before we could set out on the journey
back. Both in front and behind us the dragoons were trotting, quite
carelessly, and Herr von Hohenau was even merry-hearted, conversing
pleasantly to pass the time. And he fell talking about Taras,
saying--'Do you know, Dorn, I should rather like to see him; one would
like to have a talk with the man--he is quite a colleague of ours, a
criminal judge if ever there was one; and I will even maintain he is
possessed of all the true instincts of the profession, knowing how to
discriminate between a rascal and an honest man--between right and
wrong. I am sure of it!' 'Begging your pardon, sir,' I replied, 'but he
is just a black-dyed villain, and God Almighty keep us from falling in
with him.' 'Well,' owned he, 'I don't say I am anxious to meet him,
say, on this journey, although I should not give him credit for any
desire of harming us. You misjudge the fellow, Dorn; I have carefully
followed his so-called judgments, and I will say this for him, he is a
man still and no fiend.' The word was scarcely out of his mouth--we had
just arrived by the little bridge leading over the Krasnik--when all of
a sudden the reeds on both sides of the brook seemed alive with
highwaymen. I am an old soldier, sir, and it is a dead mystery to me
how it could happen so quickly, but in less than three minutes all our
men were clean overpowered. I should think the bandits were at least
five to one of ourselves, but I will say this for them, they did behave
decently, and whoever was willing to accept quarter, was merely
disarmed and pinioned; they killed only those who stubbornly resisted.
Herr von Hohenau remarked it also, and whispered to me: 'Never fear,
Dorn, he won't harm us,' And for a while it seemed so. For the bandits
who had surrounded the vehicle, levelling their pistols at our faces,
now drew off, and one of their number--a Jew, by the face of him--said
almost politely: 'Please to get out, sirs, and speak to the avenger.'
We stepped to the ground, they closed in a circle, and Taras himself
stood before us. Now I had often seen him--why, it is barely two years
since--when he used to call here on account of that law-suit of his, a
fair-haired, strong-built, ruddy man, with a glow of health about him;
but I certainly should not have known him again, hollow-cheeked, worn,
and grey as he is now, with deep furrows about his face, and almost
trembling as he looked at us. He kept silent rather long, I thought,
and there seemed more pity than wrath in his eyes, and he spoke gently
when he began, turning to me first. 'It is not you I require, you are
but a clerk of theirs, and are bound to write whatever they tell you.
You had better go your way at once--that is, if this man here has not
some last message he would like to entrust to you.' I shook from head
to foot at this announcement, and the gentleman, too, grew white,
catching hold of my arm as if to steady himself; yet he was able to
say--'I am Carl von Hohenau, a magistrate; every man in this
neighbourhood knows me, and can tell you that no crime lies at my door.
What is it you accuse me of, Taras?' 'Unheard-of violence and cowardly
wrong,' he said. 'My wife and my children are detained in your gaol.'
At which Herr von Hohenau drew himself up, saying solemnly: 'Taras, you
will believe my word of honour, that they have not been arrested at our
instigation, but against our every protest. The governor has been
forced to yield to the authorities at Lemberg, our superiors,' At which
Taras scanned his face attentively, saying, after a pause: 'I am
unwilling to believe you are speaking falsely; but I have had
information on solemn oath. Was it not by your orders that Kapronski,
on the Wednesday after Easter, threatened my wife with arrest?'
'No--certainly not! Did he? Oh--the rascal! Why, he came back assuring
us that only by means of his taking it upon himself thus to threaten
you had you been prevailed upon to spare his life,' 'He lied,' said
Taras. 'I charged him to tell you that I should consider your lives
forfeited if you countenanced such wrong--did he tell you that?' 'No,
on the contrary, he advised it as the only expedient; and the
Provincial Governor, in issuing his orders to us, has acted on his
suggestions without a doubt.' The poor gentleman was not a little
excited, but had sufficient power over himself to state plainly that
repeated efforts were made by the magistrates of this district to
reason with the authorities at Lemberg, and that they obeyed orders in
the end under protest only, because there was no help for it. Taras
listened quietly, and then, bending his head, he stood motionless, like
one lost in thought, a shudder ever and anon quivering through his
limbs.... And I believed there was ground for hope; but, alas, I was
mistaken. Pulling himself up suddenly, he said: 'I will accept your
account, every word as you have told it. But how is it that you yielded
in the end, knowing that which was demanded of you was an act of
violence?' 'We were driven to it,' 'I do not understand that,' said
Taras, slowly; 'a soldier has no will of his own, and must obey his
superiors, or he will be shot; but I never heard it is so with the
Emperor's magistrates!' 'It is not; and yet we should have been
punished--ignominiously dismissed in all probability, which is no light
thing for a man to face. Some of us have wives and children,' 'So it is
just this: you preferred your position, and perhaps daily bread for
yourselves and your families, to the integrity of your conscience! And
you are judges, who have sworn an oath before the Almighty, to further
the right!' The terrible man said this in the same quiet tone and very
slowly, but his passion now broke forth: 'No,' he cried, 'judges who
are capable of that, who have yielded to the wrong, have forfeited
their lives! Prepare yourself for death.... I cannot spare you!' But I
fell on my knees. 'Taras!' I cried, 'for mercy's sake, forbear killing
this man!' Herr von Hohenau, however, ordered me to rise, preserving
his composure like a hero to the end. 'I have nearly reached my three
score and ten,' he said, 'and have striven after righteousness all my
days, to the best of my knowledge. I am ready to give up my account to
Him who is Judge over all, and my days at best are numbered. And I
leave neither wife nor child behind me. It is, therefore, not the fear
of death, man, which prompts me to say that you must not kill me,
unless you would burden your conscience with a deed of common murder,
in the blind fury of revenge. So far as your deeds are known to me,
this would be the first act of yours that must be called criminal and
nothing else,' The bandits growled, but Taras, beckoning them to be
quiet, stood motionless, with bowed head, and lost in thought, as
before. Those were terrible moments, I cannot tell how long it lasted,
but it seemed an eternity. At last one of Taras's men--that Jew--went
up to him, addressing him gently. I could not understand his words, but
saw from the expression of his face that he was pleading for mercy.
That it was so grew evident from Taras's answer, who, lifting up his
hand, said hoarsely, and trembling as though it went hard with him:
'God help me and him, and if I am judging wrongfully I may suffer for
it on the gallows, but there is no help for it--he must die! He and his
fellow magistrates have set aside their sacred oath for the sake of
earthly advantage, and in the fear of man; theirs is the power to
protect the holiest of causes, to see the Right carried out, and they
have misused the power entrusted to them. That is a fearful evil; and
where shall wrong end if it begins with them? Hitherto I have tried to
believe that it was their mistake, or at worst their carelessness, at
times, which rendered them liable to judge falsely; and though
combating the wrong I have so far not declared war against the men of
the law themselves. But now I have proof that these judges, these
guardians of the Right, have actually been able, against their own
better knowledge, to concur in a wrongful deed! I can no longer, then,
be satisfied with merely stopping the course of this or that muddy
stream, as it were, but am bound to close up the spring-head itself. I
grieve, indeed, that I must make the beginning with this old man, who I
daresay is one of the best of them, but there is no help for it--may
God be merciful to him and to me!' Herr von Hohenau was going to speak
yet again, but Taras cut him short, saying: 'It is useless, you must
see I cannot help you!' and when I clasped his feet, he freed himself,
and fell back behind some of his men. But Herr von Hohenau stood erect,
saying with a loud voice, 'Get up, Dorn, it is not meet for honest men
to kneel to such a one! Get me a piece of paper and a pencil!' He wrote
a few lines, commended himself to the Almighty, and--and----"
The old clerk was shaken with sobs, his eyes were tearless, but the
lips quivered, and his breast heaved convulsively.
"They--shot--him?"
The man nodded, and, fumbling in his pocket with trembling hand,
produced a scrap of paper. But the governor saw nothing; he, too, was
leaning against the wall now, unable to stand. His eyes were closed,
but two large drops hung quivering at his lashes, and fell over the
furrowed face. "Peace, peace be with thee!" he murmured, "thou best of
friends!"
There was a long silence, but the clerk at last ventured to break it:
"This bit of writing," he said, falteringly. The governor took it and
read:--
"Farewell, my Ferdinand, we have been friends this many a year; do not
grieve for me, but have a care for yourself and the others. Let
Kapronski meet with his deserts if you can! What money I leave behind
me I want your eldest boy to have; just take it, with my love. I do not
die willingly, but with an easy mind.--Yours in death,
"Carl von Hohenau."
Herr von Bauer folded the letter, placing it in his note-book. "Where
is the body, Dorn?" he inquired, presently.
"Lying by the bridge; and so are the shackled dragoons. The monster
himself cried after me, 'You had better send for them,' He had ordered
some of his men to take me within sight of the town, where they left
me."
Before daybreak even, the brave old governor, together with the general
and a sufficient body of men, had started for the scene of death. It
was an unspeakably sad journey through the mellow summer night. About
half-way they came upon the greater number of the dragoons. None of
these had been hurt, they had only been overpowered and bound with
ropes. One of them had succeeded in slipping his fetters, and had thus
been enabled to set the others free. They confirmed the statement that
the band appeared to have no other object than to compass the
magistrate's death, vanishing almost directly after he had fallen,
pierced by their bullets.
They reached the bridge in the grey of the morning, and found only a
few wounded soldiers and the corpse. And the men, bending over it, were
filled with a holy awe on beholding the expression of a restful, even
proud calm, that had settled on the dead man's face; never had the
majesty of death spoken louder than here. And even the old general felt
an unwonted pricking about his eyelids when the governor knelt by the
dead body of his friend. He insisted on lifting it himself, barely
allowing Dorn to lend him a helping hand.
When the mournful procession had returned to the town, the district
governor lost no time in calling at the prison, in order to see Anusia.
But only a single question he asked of her--"Did Kapronski offer you
any threats?"--"Yes," she replied, unhesitatingly, repeating his words.
The governor nodded, as though it were just the information he had
expected; and not wasting another word he went his way to the
district-board office. As he entered the building the secretary came
rushing down to meet him---a messenger had just arrived from Lemberg
with a writ from the Provincial Governor, and was to wait for an
answer. "Let him wait," said the district governor, bitterly. "I
daresay they have come to see the propriety of our remonstrances and
rescind their orders."
The contents of the writ, indeed, somewhat verified these surmises,
stating that, having referred the matter to Vienna, instructions had
been received to take no measures against the family of Taras; to which
the Provincial Governor nevertheless added, as his own opinion, that,
had the arrest been effected already, he should not deem it advisable
to countermand it, lest the dangerous bandit should draw strength from
their yielding. But more than this, the Viennese Government requested
that every authentic information concerning Taras, beginning with the
records of his law-suit in behalf of the community of Zulawce, should
be forwarded without delay. And the attention of the Provincial
authorities was directed to the advisability of endeavouring to
reclaim, the rebel by peaceful means, since both his character and his
history, so far as known in Vienna, appeared to warrant this as the
best solution of the difficulty. Not that his submission should be
bargained for under promise of absolute immunity, or any other
inexpedient concession, but rather by rectifying certain unfortunate
mistakes, which no doubt might be done without lowering the dignity of
the law or that of its guardians. With regard to this, however, the
opinion of the local authorities was invited. In the meantime, and
until further notice, all action against Taras should be strictly on
the defensive, certain contingencies excepted.
This official communication was accompanied by a private note of the
Provincial Governor's, which said: "I have certain information that His
Imperial Highness, the Archduke Ludwig, is at the bottom of these
instructions. Send me your records at once, and it is to be hoped
everything is in plain order. For you know that if the Archduke once
inquires into a cause, he will have it thoroughly sifted. It is a
positive riddle to me how this wretched cut-throat, Taras, should have
come to rouse interest in such high quarters. Concerning the 'peaceful
means,' however, about which we are to give our opinion, I desire
nowise to influence your own ideas, but it seems to me we should be
handed down to posterity as fools if we recommended them. The
commissioner, Kapronski, whom I have every reason to believe a
thoroughly honest and trustworthy man, quite shares my view,
deprecating the proposal in the strongest terms, and I should say he is
not without experience of his own. He assures me, and I daresay he is
right, that any leniency shown to Taras would rouse his insolent
opposition to the fullest. I wish to suggest this view to you, but of
course you should judge for yourself."
Having read this, the district governor at once issued notices for a
meeting of the Board, submitting to the magistrates not only the
official document, but the private communication as well. "His
excellency, the Provincial Governor, and myself, are not in the habit
of having secrets with each other," he said, grimly. The Board, after a
short debate, was unanimous in its opinion that peaceful means were not
likely to avail in the present extremity, and the following despatch
was drawn up: "We fully agree that Taras, terrible as his crimes are,
cannot be designated as a bandit and cut-throat in the ordinary sense;
it might seem a natural hope, therefore, to lead him back to paths of
rectitude by appealing to his sense of honour and justice. Nor do we
fear that such an attempt would increase his temerity. But we feel
bound to deprecate such a plan, not only because of its utter
uselessness as regards the man himself, but even more on account of the
hurtful effect it would certainly produce on the people, who would see
in it a confession of weakness. As for Taras himself, it is evident
that he is acting under the pressure of a belief stronger than his
will, imagining that the duty has devolved on him to exterminate every
'wrong' he obtains cognisance of, to punish every deed of injustice,
nay, the very omission of doing right. And this idea has so eaten
itself into his heart, that no concession to any lawful, or for the
matter of that even to unlawful demands, or any other 'peaceful means'
will dissuade him from it. He will continue his 'judgments' till they
are rendered impossible by force." The Board, however, strongly
recommended the setting at liberty of his innocent family; "not for
fear of his revenge, but as a matter of conscience, and in the fear of
the Judge above." And in conclusion, having reported the murder of
their colleague, Hohenau, and Anusia's declaration, they requested that
the commissioner Kapronski should be sent back without delay, that he
might be brought to the bar of his immediate superiors. With which
reply, and a bulky bundle of papers, the messenger returned to Lemberg.
Upon this the Provincial Government wrapped itself in silence save on
one point; they had been loth, these authorities stated, to set full
value on the commissioner's complaints concerning the ill-will of his
colleagues, much as they trusted his veracity on all other heads. But
now the Board of Colomea had given tangible proof of its unworthy
animosity, actually suggesting proceedings against a respectable
servant of the law upon no evidence whatever, save the declaration of a
bandit and his imprisoned wife. This appeared unjustifiable spite, and
the Provincial Government not only must refuse to give up the innocent
commissioner, but felt obliged to censure the magistracy sharply. In
answer to which the whole Board of Colomea once more, and in stronger
terms, submitted their request for dismissal, but neither on this
matter nor concerning Taras did anything farther reach them. There was
a dead silence for several weeks.
Thus the district governor's position had come to be no bed of roses,
when suddenly it seemed as though having reached the worst, matters
would mend. It had been observed that Taras's 'judgments' grew fewer,
and during the first fortnight in August not a single act of his was
heard of at Colomea. It was as though the 'avenger' and his band had
suddenly disappeared from the earth. This silence was as mysterious as
his terrible doings had been. It could not be any fear of punishment
which bound his hands; for if the General now kept his forces together
in stockades between Kossowince and Zulawce, this centre of defence,
however formidable, could not prevent the bandits from carrying on
their work wherever they pleased, any more than the flying columns had
been able to stop it. And since no other explanation offered, the Board
lent a willing ear to the report which arose, dimly at first, though it
soon gained ground, that by far the larger number of the hajdamaks had
fallen out with their leader, and that it was inward dissension which
had stopped the activity of the band.