Cossacks, with old gray crown-locks, who were held in great respect
by all the Ssiecha, and had been many times chosen Elders. Tarass
was not long without meeting many well-known faces. Ostap and Andrew
heard nothing but greetings such as these:--"Ah, here thou art,
Petcheritza!" "Good day, Kozoloop!" "In Heaven's name, whence comest
thou, Tarass?" "Why art thou here, Doloto?" "Good day, Kirdiaga!"
"Good day, Gostoi!" "Who would have thought to see thee, Remen!" And
warriors, assembled from the whole of the loose world of Western
Russia, embraced one another. Next came the questions:--"And what of
Kassian? where is Borodavka? where Koloper? where Pidsyschok?" But
Tarass Boolba only got for answer that Borodavka had been hanged by
the Poles, that Koloper had been flayed alive by the Tartars, that
Pidsyschok's head had been salted and sent in a tub to Constantinople.
Old Tarass bent his head and thoughtfully muttered, "Good Cossacks were
they!"
III.
Tarass Boolba and his sons had remained already more than a week at
the Ssiecha. Ostap and Andrew had not yet much profited by warlike
exercises. The Zaporoghians did not like spending their time in the
mimicry of war; the education and martial accomplishments of the young
were acquired by experience alone, during the raging of battles which,
for the same reason, were almost incessant. The Cossacks found it dull
work to employ their leisure in learning discipline, and if they ever
studied anything it was shooting at a target, and sometimes pursuing
on horseback the wild animals of the steppes; the whole remaining time
was given up to carousing--the proof of a widely diffused freedom.
The whole Ssiecha presented a strange scene; it was like an unceasing
festival, a banquet which had begun noisily and forgotten to end. Some
Zaporoghians were occupied in different handicrafts; others had shops
and busied themselves with trade; but the greater part feasted from
morning till night, as long as the possibility of feasting jingled in
their pockets, and as long as the conquered booty had not found its way
into the hands of the tradesmen and the proprietors of brandy-shops.
This universal festival had something seductive about it; it was not
an assembly of men who had been driven to drunkenness by grief; it
was nothing but the maddest expression of mirth. Every one who had
found his way thither, forgot and at once cast off everything which
had till then occupied his mind. He seemed to drive away all his past
life, and to give himself up, soul and body, with the fanaticism
of a new convert, to freedom and to comradeship, with men who, like
himself, had no relations, nor home, nor family, and to whom nothing
was left but the canopy of Heaven, and the unintermittent festival of
their hearts. This gave rise to that mad gaiety, which could never
have found any other source. The tales and narratives which might be
heard among the groups lazily reclining upon the ground, were often so
droll and breathed such lively animation, that one must needs have had
the immoveable features of a Zaporoghian to have kept an indifferent
countenance and never so much as curled the lip; and this, indeed,
is one of the most striking features which distinguish the Southern
Russian from the rest of the Russians. The mirth was provoked by wine,
was attended by noise, but yet there were none of those disfigured
outlines of a caricatured gaiety, which one finds in the dirty brandy
shop. It was the friendly circle of schoolfellows. The only difference
consisted in this, that instead of poring over books, and listening to
the stupid lessons of professors, these schoolfellows made invasions,
mounted on about five thousand horses; that instead of the field in
which they had formerly played at ball, they now had, unguarded and
uncared for, boundaries beyond which might be seen the swift head of
the Tartar, and the Turk haughtily glancing from beneath his green
turban. The difference was this, that instead of the forced will which
had brought them together at school, they had, of their own free
choice, left their fathers and mothers and fled from the parental roof.
Here were to be found those who had already felt the halter dangling
about their necks, and who, instead of pale-faced death, had found
life, and life in its utmost gaiety. Here were those who followed
the noble principle of never retaining a farthing about them. Here
were those, who, thanks to the Jews, tenants of Polish lords, could
always have their pockets turned inside out without the fear of losing
anything. Here were all the collegians, who had not had the patience
to endure the college rods, and who, of all their school learning, had
not retained so much as the alphabet. But besides these, here were
to be found some who knew who Horace was, who Cicero, and what the
Roman Republic. Here were many who afterwards acquired distinction as
officers in the army of the King of Poland. Here were many experienced
volunteers who felt the noble conviction that it was quite the same
thing where and why the war took place so that wars were made, and
that no man of noble feelings could remain without fighting. Many more
were here who had come into the Ssiecha for no other purpose, but that
they might say afterwards that they had been there, and that they were
hardened warriors. But what, indeed, were the characters that could
not be found here? Those who liked warfare, who liked gilded cups, who
liked rich stuffs, or gold and silver coins, could at all times find
employment here. Those only who worshipped womankind could find nothing
to suit their taste; for no woman was allowed so much as to show her
face even in the suburb of the Ssiecha.
During their abode in the Ssiecha, Ostap and Andrew were much
astonished at seeing that crowds of people came, without so much as
any one asking whence they came, or what were their names. They came
thither as if they were returning to their own homes which they
had but recently quitted. The new-comer only went to the Koschevoï
Ataman,[15] who addressed him in these terms:--
"Good day! dost thou believe in Christ?
"I do;" answered the new-comer.
"And dost thou believe in the Holy Trinity?"
"I do."
"And dost thou go to church?"
"I do."
"Make the sign of the cross!"
The new-comer made it.
"Well," said the Koschevoï, "thou mayest go into whichever kooren thou
pleasest."
And thus the ceremony ended.
The whole population of the Ssiecha went to the same church, which
they were ready to defend to the last drop of their blood; and yet the
Cossacks would never attend to fasts and abstinence. The suburb was
chiefly inhabited by Jews, Armenians, and Tartars, who, incited by the
love of gain, dared to live and to have shops there, knowing that the
Zaporoghians never bargained, but paid as much money as their hands
took out of their pockets. But the fate of these greedy tradespeople
was much to be pitied; they were like those who build their houses at
the foot of Vesuvius: as soon as the Zaporoghians had no money left,
the most desperate among them pillaged the shops, and carried away
everything without payment.
The Ssiecha consisted of upwards of sixty koorens, which were very
like so many independent republics, and still more like so many
boarding-schools. No one provided any furniture or food for himself;
the Koorennoï Ataman[16] had charge of everything, and was called on
this account "father." He kept the money, the clothes, the furniture,
the flour, the oats, and even the fuel; all money was deposited with
him. It was no rare occurrence that one kooren quarrelled with another;
on such occasions, fighting immediately ensued. The rival koorens
rushed into the field, and fought till one of them got the upper hand,
and then all ended in a general carouse.
Such was this Ssiecha, which had so many attractions for young men.
Ostap and Andrew plunged at once with the heedlessness of youth into
this sea of pleasure, forgetting in no time their father's roof, the
college, and all that had till then occupied their thoughts, and they
gave themselves entirely up to this new mode of life. Everything was
strange to them; the loose habits of the Ssiecha, its unsophisticated
laws and administration, which even then seemed to them too severe in
such a self-willed community. If a Cossack had committed theft, were
it but of the most insignificant rubbish, his fault was reputed to be
a shame to the whole community; he was, as a dishonourable person,
tied to a pillory, and beside him was placed a club, with which every
one who passed by might give him a blow, until the criminal expired.
An insolvent debtor was fastened to a cannon, and remained there till
some of his comrades ransomed him and paid his debts. But the greatest
impression made on Andrew was produced by the terrible penalty
prescribed for murder. Before his eyes, a hole was dug in the ground,
the murderer was put into it alive, and over him was placed the coffin
containing the corpse of the man whom he had murdered; then both were
covered with earth, and the hole was filled up. For a long time the
dreadful ceremony of this punishment haunted Andrew, and he thought he
saw again and again the man buried alive with the terrible coffin.
Both youths soon gained the best repute among the Cossacks. Often did
they go together with some comrades of their kooren, sometimes with the
whole kooren, and with other koorens too, to shoot in the steppes an
innumerable quantity of wild birds, stags, and goats; or they resorted
to the lakes, rivers, and arms of the Dnieper, assigned to every kooren
by lot, to throw their fishing nets and bring to land a rich booty of
fish, sufficient to feed the whole kooren. It was not as yet a trial
of true Cossack life, but still they succeeded in distinguishing
themselves from among other youths by their audacity and their
dexterity in everything. They never missed their aim when shooting, and
they swam across the Dnieper against the current, an exploit for which
every new-comer was triumphantly admitted into the assemblies of the
Cossacks.
But Tarass was preparing a new scene of action for them; he did not
like this idle mode of life; he desired real activity for them.
After ruminating for a while how to raise the Ssiecha on some daring
enterprise, where one might find true knightly exploits to perform, he,
at last, went one day to the Koschevoï, and said to him, abruptly:
"Koschevoï, it is high time for the Zaporoghians to take the air in the
field."
"There is nowhere to take it," answered the Koschevoï, taking his pipe
out of his mouth, and spitting-on one side.
"How so? Nowhere? There are the Turks; there are the Tartars!"
"We cannot go either against Turks or against Tartars," answered the
Koschevoï, coolly resuming his pipe.
"And why not?"
"So it is; we have promised peace to the Sultan."
"But is he not an unbeliever? Well, do not the Scriptures order us to
combat all unbelievers?"
"We have no right to do it; had we not sworn by our faith, well, maybe
we might have done it; but now, no, we cannot."
"Why can we not? Why dost thou say we have no right? Here have I two
sons, both of them young men. Neither the one nor the other have ever
seen war, and thou sayest, 'we have no right;' and thou sayest, 'the
Zaporoghians cannot go to war.'"
"So it must be."
"So then, the Cossack's strength must run to seed? So men must end
their lives like so many dogs, without having been of any use to their
country, or to Christendom? What do we live for, then? What the devil
is the use of our life; tell me that? Thou art a sensible man; there
was some reason for electing thee Koschevoï; tell me, what do we live
for?"
The Koschevoï left the question unanswered. He was a stubborn Cossack;
he remained silent for a while, and then said, "Nevertheless, there can
be no war."
"So there will be no war?" once more asked Tarass.
"No."
"So it is of no use to think of it?"
"It is of no use."
"Well, wait a little, thou--devil's fist!" said Boolba to himself.
"I'll teach thee to know me!" And he resolved on the spot to take his
revenge of the Koschevoï.
After having talked first with one and then another, he made up a
drinking party, and a number of tipsy Cossacks rushed to the public
square; here, tied to a pole, were the kettle-drums, which were used
for summoning the _rada_[17] but not finding the sticks, which were
in charge of an official called _doobish_, they caught up logs of
wood, and began beating the drums with them. The first who appeared on
hearing the sound of the drums was the doobish, a tall one-eyed man,
whose only eye was still very sleepy.
"Who dares to beat the drum?" cried he.
"Be silent; take thy sticks, and beat the drum when thou art ordered to
do so," answered the tipsy elders.
The doobish complied at once, and took out the sticks, which he had
brought in his pocket, being well acquainted with the usual end of
such occurrences. The kettle-drums resounded, and soon dark crowds
of Zaporoghians were seen swarming like bees into the square. All
assembled in a circle, and after the third beating of the drum, came
at last the chiefs: the Koschevoï with the mace, token of his dignity;
the judge, with the seal of the Ssiecha; the secretary, with his
inkstand, and the essaool with the staff. The Koschevoï, and the
other dignitaries, took off their caps, and bowed on every side to the
Cossacks, who stood haughtily holding their arms a-kimbo.
"What means this assembly? What do you wish, gentlemen?" said the
Koschevoï.
Clamours and scolding words put a stop to his speech.
"Lay down thy mace, lay it down directly, devil's son!--we do not want
thee any more!" shrieked some Cossacks from the crowd. Some of the
sober koorens seemed to resist, but tipsy and sober koorens came to
blows. The shouts and noise became general.
The Koschevoï tried to speak, but knowing that the infuriated
self-willed crowd might perhaps beat him to death for it, and that such
was almost always the end of such riots, he bowed very low, laid down
the mace, and disappeared among the people.
"Do you order, gentlemen, that we too lay down the tokens of our rank?"
said the judge, the secretary, and the essaool, ready to resign the
seal, the inkstand, and the staff.
"Not you; you may remain; we only wanted to drive away the Koschevoï,
because he is an old woman, and we need a man for a Koschevoï!"
"Whom will you choose for your Koschevoï?" asked the dignitaries.
"Choose Kookoobenko!" cried one side.
"We will not have Kookoobenko!" cried the other. "'Tis early for him;
his mother's milk is yet wet upon his lips!"
"Let Shilo be the Ataman," cried some. "Shilo must be Koschevoï!"
"Away with Shilo!" shouted the angry crowd.
"Is he a Cossack, to have thieved like a Tartar, the dog's son I To the
devil with the drunkard Shilo!"
"Let us choose Borodaty--Borodaty!"
"We will not have Borodaty; a curse upon Borodaty!"
"Shout for Kirdiaga," whispered Tarass Boolba.
"Kirdiaga, Kirdiaga," shouted the crowd. "Borodaty!
Borodaty!"--"Kirdiaga! Kirdiaga!"
"Shilo!"--"The devil take Shilo!"--"Kirdiaga!"
Each of the proposed candidates, on hearing his name shouted, instantly
quitted the crowd, to leave no room for suspecting his personal
influence in the election.
"Kirdiaga! Kirdiaga!" was heard above all.
"Borodaty!"
Blows succeeded to words, and Kirdiaga's party got the better.
"Go and fetch Kirdiaga!" was now the cry.
Some ten Cossacks directly stepped out of the crowd; many of them
hardly stood upon their legs, such was the strength of the spirits they
had swallowed; they went straight to Kirdiaga, to notify to him his
election.
Kirdiaga, a clever old Cossack, had already been some time seated in
his kooren, and looked as if quite unconscious of what had just taken
place. "What do you want, gentlemen?" asked he.
"Go; thou art elected to be the Koschevoï."
"Be merciful, gentlemen!" said Kirdiaga. "I am by no means worthy of
such an honour; I have not sense enough for a rank like that; is there
no one better than I to be found in the whole Ssiecha?"
"Go, when thou art told to go!" cried the Zaporoghians. Two of them
took hold of his arms, and in vain did he endeavour to stay his feet.
He was at last brought into the square, pushed from behind by blows and
pokes, receiving such scoldings and admonitions as--"Don't draw back,
thou devil's son!" "Take the honour, dog, when they give it to thee!"
In such a manner Kirdiaga was brought into the midst of the Cossack
circle.
"Gentlemen!" cried those who had brought him, "are you willing to have
this Cossack for your Koschevoï?"
"We are, all of us!" shouted the crowd; and the field resounded far and
wide with the cry.
One of the elders took up the mace, and offered it to the newly-elected
Koschevoï. Kirdiaga refused it, according to custom. The elder offered
it a second time; Kirdiaga refused it again; and only after the third
invitation, did he take up the mace. A clamour of approval arose
from the crowd, and again far and wide the field resounded with the
Cossacks' shout. Now stepped out from the midst of the people four of
the oldest Cossacks, with gray crown-locks, and gray mustachios (no
very old folks were to be found in the Ssiecha, for no Zaporoghian
ever died a natural death); each of them took a handful of earth,
which recent rain had turned to mud, and put it upon Kirdiaga's head.
Down from his head ran the wet earth, which flowed over his mustachios
and cheeks, and soiled all his face with mud. But Kirdiaga remained
standing upright, and returned thanks to the Cossacks for the honour
they had bestowed upon him.
So ended the clamorous election. It remains unknown whether others
rejoiced in it as much as Boolba: first, for having taken his revenge
on the late Koschevoï; and secondly, because Kirdiaga was his old
comrade, who had been with him in the same campaigns, over sea and
land, and had shared the same hardships and labours of warfare. The
crowd dispersed immediately, in order to rejoice over the election;
and a revel ensued such as Ostap and Andrew had not yet seen. The
brandy-shops were ransacked; mead, brandy, and beer were carried off
without any payment being made; the masters of the shops were glad
to be suffered to escape untouched. The whole of the night passed in
noise and songs, and the moon, rising in the sky, shone for a long time
over the hands of musicians walking about the streets with bandooras,
torbans, and round balalaikas,[18] and over the group of the singers
who were kept in the Ssiecha to chant in the church, and to sing the
praises of the feats of the Zaporoghians.
At last, tipsiness and fatigue began to get the better of the strong
heads; and now began to be seen here and there a Cossack rolling on
the ground. Here, two comrades, embracing one another, have grown
sentimental, and both roll down weeping. There, a whole crowd has lain
down together. There is one, who after fidgetting very much about the
most commodious manner of lying down, has stretched himself full length
on a log. The last, whose head was somewhat stronger, remained still
uttering incoherent sentences; but he, too, finished by submitting to
the effects of brandy, and when he fell like the rest, the whole of the
Ssiecha was asleep.
IV.
The very next day, Tarass Boolba was already in consultation with the
new Koschevoï how to raise the Zaporoghians on some war business. The
Koschevoï was a clever, cunning Cossack; he knew the Zaporoghians
from top to toe, and at once said, "We cannot infringe our oath--we
cannot, on any account." But after having kept silence for some time
he added, "Never mind, we can; we will keep our oath, but we will find
out something or other. Manage somehow to get the people together, not,
however, in my name, but as if of their own free will. You understand
how to do it; and we, with the other dignitaries, will rush into the
square as if we knew nothing of the matter."
Scarcely an hour had passed since this conversation, when on a sudden
the kettle-drums were beaten. All the Cossacks, the slightly tipsy
as well as those who had not yet recovered their senses, appeared at
once. Thousands of Cossack caps all at once covered the square. A
rumour arose, "What's the matter? why did they beat the call? on what
account?" At last, here and there were to be heard sentences, "Why is
the Cossack's strength to be lost? Why is there no war? The officials
only think of fattening themselves! Righteousness seems to have left
the world!" Other Cossacks began by listening and then joined in also,
"Truly, there is no righteousness in the world."
The officials seemed astonished at hearing such things. At last the
Koschevoï stepped forward and said, "Gentlemen Zaporoghians! will you
let me make a speech?
"My speech will be, gentlemen, about this,--but may be you know it
better yourselves;--that many Zaporoghians have gone into debt in the
brandy-shops, to Jews as well as to their comrades, and into such debt
that no devil will now give credit to any one. Then, again, my speech
is about this, that there are many lads who have never so much as seen
what war is; whereas you know, gentlemen, that no young man can ever
remain without war. What kind of Zaporoghian is he who has never, not
even once, vanquished an unbeliever?"
"He speaks well," thought Boolba.
"But do not think, gentlemen, that I am now speaking for the purpose
of breaking peace! God forbid! I am only just mentioning facts. Now,
with respect to God's temple, it is sinful to tell in what a state it
is. Thanks be to God, the Ssiecha has now stood for so many years, and
yet till now--I do not speak of the exterior of the church---but even
the images inside have no decorations. No one has ever thought to have
even a silver cloth put upon any one of them;[19] the church has only
received that which was bequeathed to it by certain Cossacks; but even
these donations were very poor, for the donors during their lifetime
had spent everything they had in brandy. But all this I do not tell you
to induce you to begin war against the misbelievers; we have promised
peace to the Sultan, and it would be a great sin not to keep it,
because we have sworn by our faith."
"What does he mean by all this nonsense?" said Boolba to himself.
"So, gentlemen, you see that we cannot begin war; knightly honour
forbids it. But, according to my poor understanding, what I should say
is this--let us send the young people in our boats; let them take a run
on the coasts of Anatolia. What do you think of that, gentlemen?"
"Let us all go!" cried the crowd on every side. "Every one of us is
ready to die for our faith!"
The Koschevoï was alarmed; he had not at all meant to have raised
the whole Ssiecha; he thought it unfair to break the peace. "Let me,
gentlemen, say a few words more."
"Enough!" shouted the Zaporoghians; "thou wilt say nothing better!"
"If such be your will, well you must have it. I am but the servant
of your will. It is well known that the voice of the people is the
voice of God. Nothing better can be settled than what the whole of the
Ssiecha has settled. I consider only this. You know, gentlemen, that
the Sultan will not fail to take his revenge for the pleasure that the
lads will have. And in the meanwhile we should have kept ourselves in
readiness; our forces should have been fresh, and we should have feared
nobody--while now, during our absence, the Tartars may fall on the
Ssiecha. Tartars are nothing but Turkish dogs; they do not fall on you
face to face, and will not come into the house so long as the master is
at home; but they may bite our heels from behind and painfully may they
bite us. And, as we are now about this matter--to speak the truth, we
have not enough boats, and the store of powder is not sufficient if all
of us are to go. However, I am ready. I am happy to be the servant of
your will."
The cunning Ataman stopped. Groups began to confer together; the
atamans of the koorens held council; and, as luckily few remained
tipsy, all agreed to follow the prudent course.