Kmita had, it is true, Radzivill's passes to all the Swedish captains,
commandants, and governors, to give him a free road everywhere, and
make no opposition, but he did not dare to use those passes; for he
expected that Prince Boguslav, immediately after Pilvishki, had hurried
off messengers in every direction with information to the Swedes of
what had happened, and with an order to seize him. For this reason Pan
Andrei had assumed a strange name, and also changed his rank. Avoiding
therefore Lomja and Ostrolenko, to which the first warning might have
come, he directed his horses and his company to Pjasnysh, whence he
wished to go through Pultusk to Warsaw.
But before he reached Pjasnysh he made a bend on the Prussian boundary
through Vansosh, Kolno, and Myshynyets, because the Kyemliches, knowing
those wildernesses well, were acquainted with the forest trails, and
besides had their "cronies" among the Bark-shoes,[29] from whom they
might expect aid in case of emergency.
The country at the boundary was occupied for the most part by the
Swedes, who limited themselves, however, to occupying the most
considerable towns, going not too boldly into the slumbering and
fathomless forests inhabited by armed men,--hunters who never left the
wilderness, and were still so wild that just a year before, the Queen,
Marya Ludvika, had given a command to build a chapel in Myshynyets and
settle there Jesuits, who were to teach religion and soften the manners
of those men of the wilderness.
"The longer we do not meet the Swedes," said old Kyemlich, "the better
for us."
"We must meet them at last," answered Pan Andrei.
"If a man meets them in a large town they are often afraid to do him
injustice; for in a town there is always some government and some
higher commandant to whom it is possible to make complaint. I have
always asked people about this, and I know that there are commands from
the King of Sweden forbidding violence and extortion. But the smaller
parties sent far away from the eyes of commandants have no regard for
orders, and plunder peaceful people."
They passed on then through the forests, meeting Swedes nowhere,
spending the nights with pitch-makers in forest settlements. The
greatest variety of tales concerning the invasion were current among
the Bark-shoes, though almost none of them had known the Swedes
hitherto. It was said that a people had come from over the sea who did
not understand human speech, who did not believe in Christ the Lord,
the Most Holy Lady, or the Saints, and that they were wonderfully
greedy. Some told of the uncommon desire of those enemies for cattle,
skins, nuts, mead, and dried mushrooms, which if refused, they burned
the woods straightway. Others insisted that, on the contrary, they were
a people of were-wolves, living on human flesh, and feeding specially
on the flesh of young girls.
Under the influence of those terrible tidings, which flew into the
remotest depths of the wilderness, the Bark-shoes began to watch and to
search through the forests. Those who were making potash and pitch;
those who worked at gathering hops; wood-cutters and fishermen, who had
their wicker nets fixed in the reedy banks, of the Rosoga; trappers and
snarers, bee-keepers and beaver-hunters, assembled at the most
considerable settlements, listening to tales, communicating news, and
counselling how to drive out the enemy in case they appeared in the
wilderness.
Kmita, going with his party, met more than once greater or smaller
bands of these men, dressed in hemp shirts, and skins of wolves, foxes,
or bears. More than once he was stopped at narrow places, and by
inquiries,--
"Who art thou? A Swede?"
"No!" answered Pan Andrei.
"God guard thee!"
Kmita looked with curiosity at those men who lived always in the gloom
of forests, and whose faces the open sun had never burned; he wondered
at their stature, their boldness of look, the sincerity of their
speech, and their daring, not at all peasant-like.
The Kyemliches, who knew them, assured Pan Andrei that there were no
better shots than these men in the whole Commonwealth. When he
discovered that they all had good German muskets bought in Prussia for
skins, he asked them to show their skill in shooting, was astonished at
sight of it, and thought, "Should I need to collect a party, I will
come here."
At Myshynyets itself he found a great assembly. More than a hundred
marksmen held constant watch at the mission, for it was feared that the
Swedes would show themselves there first, especially because the
starosta of Ostrolenko had commanded them to cut out a road in the
forest so that the priests settled at the mission might have "access to
the world."
The hop-raisers, who took their produce to Pjasnysh to the celebrated
breweries there, and hence passed for men of experience, related that
Lomja, Ostrolenko, and Pjasnysh were swarming with Swedes, who were
managing and collecting taxes there as if at home.
Kmita tried to persuade the Bark-shoes not to wait for the Swedes in
the wilderness, but to strike on them at Ostrolenko, and begin war; he
offered to command them himself. He found a great willingness among
them; but two priests led them away from this mad enterprise, telling
them to wait till the whole country moved, and not draw on themselves
the terrible vengeance of the enemy by premature attack.
Pan Andrei departed, but regretted his lost opportunity. The only
consolation remaining was this,--he had convinced himself that if
powder were to explode anywhere, neither the Commonwealth nor the king
would lack defenders in those parts.
"This being the case," thought he, "it is possible to begin in another
place."
His fiery nature was restive for quick action, but judgment said: "The
Bark-shoes alone cannot conquer the Swedes. You will go through a part
of the country; you will look around, examine, and then obey the king's
order."
He travelled on therefore. He went out of the deep wilderness to the
forest borders, to a neighborhood more thickly settled; he saw an
uncommon movement in all the villages. The roads were crowded with
nobles going in wagons, carriages, and carts, of various kinds, or on
horseback. All were hastening to the nearest towns and villages to give
Swedish commanders an oath of loyalty to the new king. In return they
received certificates which were to preserve their persons and
property. In the capitals of provinces and districts "capitulations"
were published securing freedom of confession and privileges pertaining
to the order of nobles.
The nobles went with the requisite oath, not only willingly, but in
haste; for various punishments threatened the stubborn, and especially
confiscation and robbery. It was said that here and there the Swedes
had already begun, as in Great Poland, to thumb-screw suspected men. It
was repeated also, with alarm, that they were casting suspicion on the
wealthiest on purpose to rob them.
In view of all this, it was unsafe to remain in the country; the
wealthier therefore hurried to the towns to live under the immediate
eye of Swedish commandants, so as to avoid suspicion of intrigue
against the King of Sweden.
Pan Andrei bent his ear carefully to what nobles were saying, and
though they did not wish greatly to speak with him, since he was a poor
fellow, he discovered this much, that near neighbors, acquaintances,
even friends, did not speak among themselves with sincerity touching
the Swedes or the new government. It is true they complained loudly of
the "requisitions;" and in fact there was reason, for to each village,
each hamlet, came letters from commandants with orders to furnish great
quantities of grain, bread, salt, cattle, money; and frequently these
orders exceeded the possible, especially because when supplies of one
kind were exhausted, others were demanded; whoso did not pay, to him
was sent an execution in thrice the amount.
But the old days had gone! Each man extricated himself as best he was
able, took out of his own mouth, gave, paid; complaining, groaning, and
thinking in his soul that long ago it was different. But they comforted
themselves for the time, saying that when the war was over the
requisitions would cease. The Swedes promised the same, saying, "Only
let the king gain the whole country, he will begin to govern at once
like a father."
For the nobles who had given up their own king and country; who before,
and not long before, had called the kindly Yan Kazimir a tyrant,
suspecting him of striving for absolute power; who opposed him in
everything, protesting in provincial and national diets, and in their
hunger for novelty and change went so far that they recognized, almost
without opposition, an invader as lord, so as to have some change,--it
would be a shame then even to complain. Karl Gustav had freed them from
the tyrant, they had abandoned of their own will their lawful king; but
they had the change so greatly desired.
Therefore the most intimate did not speak sincerely among themselves
touching what they thought of that change, inclining their ears
willingly to those who asserted that the attacks, requisitions,
robberies, and confiscations were, of course burdens, but only
temporary ones, which would cease as soon as Karl Gustav was firm on
the throne.
"This is grievous, brother, grievous," said one noble to another at
times, "but still we must be thankful for the new ruler. He is a great
potentate and warrior; he will conquer the Tartars, restrain the Turks,
drive the Northerners away from the boundaries; and we together with
Sweden will flourish."
"Even if we were not glad," answered another, "what is to be done
against such power? We cannot fly to the sun on a spade."
At times, too, they referred to the fresh oath. Kmita was enraged
listening to such talks and discussions; and once when a certain noble
said in his presence in an inn that a man must be faithful to him to
whom he had taken oath. Pan Andrei shouted out to him,--
"You must have two mouths,--one for true and the other for false oaths,
for you have sworn to Yan Kazimir!"
There were many other nobles present, for this happened not far from
Pjasnysh. Hearing these words, all started. On some faces wonder was
visible at the boldness of Kmita; others flushed. At last the most
important man said,--
"No one here has broken his oath to the former king. He broke it
himself; for he left the country, not watching over its defence."
"Would you were killed!" cried Kmita. "But King Lokyetek,--how many
times was he forced to leave the country, and still he returned, for
the fear of God was yet in men's hearts. It was not Yan Kazimir who
deserted, but those who sold him and who now calumniate him, so as to
palliate their own sins before God and the world!"
"You speak too boldly, young man! Whence come you who wish to teach us
people of this place the fear of God? See to it that the Swedes do not
overhear you."
"If you are curious, I will tell you whence I am. I am from Electoral
Prussia, and belong to the elector. But being of Sarmatian blood, I
feel a good will toward the country, and am ashamed of the indifference
of this people."
Here the nobles, forgetting their anger, surrounded him and began to
inquire hurriedly and with curiosity,--
"You are from Electoral Prussia? But tell what you know! What is the
elector doing there? Does he think of rescuing us from oppression?"
"From what oppression? You are glad of the new ruler, so do not talk of
oppression. As you have made your bed, so you must sleep on it."
"We are glad, for we cannot help it. They stand with swords over our
necks. But speak out, as if we were not glad."
"Give him something to drink, let his tongue be loosened! Speak boldly,
there are no traitors here among us."
"You are all traitors!" roared Pan Andrei, "and I don't wish to drink
with you; you are servants of the Swedes."
Then he went out of the room, slamming the door, and they remained in
shame and amazement; no man seized his sabre, no man moved after Kmita
to avenge the insult.
But he went directly to Pryasnysh. A few furlongs before the place
Swedish patrols took him and led him before the commandant. There were
only six men in the patrol, and an under-officer was the seventh;
therefore Soroka and the two Kyemliches began to look at them hungrily,
like wolves at sheep, and asked Kmita with their eyes, if he would not
give order to surround them.
Pan Andrei also felt no small temptation, especially since the
Vengyerka flowed near, between banks overgrown with reeds; but he
restrained himself, and let the party be taken quietly to the
commandant.
There he told the commandant who he was,--that he had come from the
elector's country, and that he went every year with horses to Sobota.
The Kyemliches too had certificates with which they provided themselves
in Leng, for the place was well known to them; therefore the
commandant, who was himself a Prussian German, made no difficulty, only
inquired carefully what kind of horses they were driving and wished to
see them.
When Kmita's attendants drove the beasts up, in accordance with the
commandant's wish, he looked at them carefully and said,--
"I will buy these. From another I would have taken them without pay;
but since you are from Prussia, I will not harm you."
Kmita seemed somewhat confused when it came to selling, for by this the
reason for going farther was lost, and he would have to go back to
Prussia. He asked therefore a price so high that it was almost twice
the real value of the horses. Beyond expectation the officer was
neither angry, nor did he haggle about the price.
"Agreed!" said he. "Drive the horses into the shed, and I will bring
you the pay at once."
The Kyemliches were glad in their hearts, but Pan Andrei fell into
anger and began to curse. Still there was no way but to drive in the
horses. If they refused, they would be suspected at once of trading
only in appearance.
Meanwhile the officer came back, and gave Kmita a piece of paper with
writing.
"What is this?" asked Pan Andrei.
"Money or the same as money,--an order."
"And where will they pay me?"
"At headquarters!"
"Where are headquarters?"
"In Warsaw," said the officer, laughing maliciously.
"We sell only for ready money."
"How's that, what's that, oh, gates of heaven?" began old Kyemlich,
groaning.
Kmita turned, and looking at him threateningly, said,--
"For me the word of the commandant is the same as ready money. I will
go willingly to Warsaw, for there I can buy honest goods from the
Armenians, for which I shall be well paid in Prussia."
Then, when the officer walked away, Pan Andrei said, to comfort
Kyemlich,--
"Quiet, you rogue! These orders are the best passes; we can go to
Cracow with our complaints, for they will not pay us. It is easier to
press cheese out of a stone than money out of the Swedes. But this is
just playing into my hand. This breeches fellow thinks that he has
tricked me, but he knows not what service he has rendered. I'll pay you
out of my own pocket for the horses; you will be at no loss."
The old man recovered himself, and it was only from habit that he did
not cease yet for a while to complain,--
"They have plundered us, brought us to poverty!"
But Pan Andrei was glad to find the road open before him, for he
foresaw that the Swedes would not pay for the horses in Warsaw, and in
all likelihood they would pay nowhere,--hence he would be able to go on
continually as it were seeking for justice, even to the Swedish king,
who was at Cracow occupied with the siege of the ancient capital.
Meanwhile Kmita resolved to pass the night in Pjasnysh to give his
horses rest, and without changing his assumed name to throw aside his
exterior of a poor noble. He saw that all despised a poor horse-dealer,
that any one might attack him more readily and have less fear to answer
for injustice to an insignificant man. It was more difficult in that
dress to have approach to important nobles, and therefore more
difficult to discover what each one was thinking.
He procured therefore clothing answering to his station and his birth,
and went to an inn so as to talk with his brother nobles. But he was
not rejoiced at what he heard. In the taverns and public houses the
nobles drank to the health of the King of Sweden, and to the success of
the protector, struck glasses with the Swedish officers, laughed at the
jokes which these officers permitted themselves to make at the expense
of Yan Kazimir and Charnyetski.
Fear for their own lives and property had debased people to such a
degree that they were affable to the invaders, and hurried to keep up
their good humor. Still even that debasement had its limits. The nobles
allowed themselves, their king, the hetmans, and Pan Charnyetski to be
ridiculed, but not their religion; and when a certain Swedish captain
declared that the Lutheran faith was as good as the Catholic, Pan
Grabkovski, sitting near him, not being able to endure that blasphemy,
struck him on the temple with a hatchet, and taking advantage of the
uproar, slipped out of the public house and vanished in the crowd.
They fell to pursuing him, but news came which turned attention in
another direction. Couriers arrived with news that Cracow had
surrendered, that Pan Charnyetski was in captivity, and that the last
barrier to Swedish dominion was swept away.
The nobles were dumb at the first moment, but the Swedes began to
rejoice and cry "Vivat." In the church of the Holy Ghost, in the church
of the Bernardines, and in the cloister of Bernardine nuns, recently
erected by Pani Muskovski, it was ordered to ring the bells. The
infantry and cavalry came out on the square, from the breweries and
cloth-shearing mills, in battle-array, and began to fire from cannons
and muskets. Then they rolled out barrels of gorailka, mead, and beer
for the army and the citizens; they burned pitch-barrels and feasted
till late at night. The Swedes dragged out the inhabitants from the
houses to dance with them, to rejoice and frolic; and together with
throngs of soldiers straggled along nobles who drank with the cavalry,
and were forced to feign joy at the fall of Cracow and the defeat of
Charnyetski.
Disgust carried away Kmita, and he took refuge early in his quarters
outside the town, but he could not sleep. A fever tormented him, and
doubts besieged his soul. Had he not turned from the road too late,
when the whole country was in the hands of the Swedes? It came into his
head that all was lost now, and the Commonwealth would never rise from
its fall.
"This is not a mere unlucky war," thought he, "which may end with the
loss of some province; this is accomplished ruin! This means that the
whole Commonwealth becomes a Swedish province. We have caused this
ourselves, and I more than others."
This thought burned him, and conscience gnawed. Sleep fled from him. He
knew not what to do,--to travel farther, remain in the place, or
return. Even if he collected a party and harried the Swedes, they would
hunt him as a bandit, and not treat him as a soldier. Besides, he is in
a strange region, where no one knows who he is. Who will join him?
Fearless men rallied to him in Lithuania, where he, the most famous,
called them together; but here, even if some had heard of Kmita, they
held him a traitor and a friend of the Swedes, but surely no one had
ever heard of Babinich.
All is useless! It is useless to go to the king, for it is too late; it
is useless to go to Podlyasye, for the Confederates think him a
traitor; it is useless to go to Lithuania, for there the Radzivills own
all; it is useless to stay where he is, for there he has nothing to do.
The best would be to drive out the soul, and not look on this world,
but flee from remorse.
But will it be better in that world for those who having sinned their
fill in this life, have not effaced their sins in any way, and will
stand before judgment beneath the whole weight of these sins? Kmita
struggled in his bed, as if lying on a bed of torture. Such unendurable
torments he had not passed through, even in the forest cabin of the
Kyemliches.
He felt strong, healthy, enterprising,--the soul in him was rushing out
to begin something, to do something,--and here every road was blocked;
even knock the head against a wall,--there is no issue, no salvation,
no hope.
After he had tossed during the night on his bed, he sprang up before
daybreak, roused his men, and rode on. They went toward Warsaw, but he
knew not himself wherefore or why. He would have escaped to the Saitch
in despair, if times had not changed, and if Hmelnitski, together with
Buturlin, had not just overborne the grand hetman of the kingdom, at
Grodek, carrying at the same time fire and sword through the
southwestern regions of the Commonwealth, and sending predatory bands
as far as Lublin.
Along the roads to Pultusk, Pan Andrei met at all points Swedish
parties, escorting wagons with provisions, grain, bread, beer, and
herds of every kind of cattle. With the herds and wagons went crowds of
peasants, small nobles, weeping and groaning, for they were dragged
away numbers of miles with the wagons. Happy the man who was allowed to
return home with his wagon; and this did not happen in every case, for
after they had brought the supplies peasants and petty nobles were
forced to labor at repairing castles, building sheds and magazines.
Kmita saw also that in the neighborhood of Pultusk the Swedes acted
more harshly with the people than in Pjasnysh; and not being able to
understand the cause, he inquired about it of the nobles whom he met on
the road.
"The nearer you go to Warsaw," answered one of the travellers, "the
harsher you will find the oppressors. Where they have just come and are
not secure, they are more kindly, publish the commands of the king
against oppression, and promulgate the capitulations; but where they
feel safe, and have occupied castles in the neighborhood, they break
all promises, have no consideration, commit injustice, plunder, rob,
raise their hands against churches, the clergy, and sacred nuns. It is
nothing here yet, but to describe what is going on in Great Poland
words fail in the mouths of men."
Here the noble began to describe what was taking place in Great
Poland,--what extortions, violence, and murders the savage enemy
committed; how men were thumbscrewed and tortured to discover money;
how the Provincial, Father Branetski, was killed in Poznan itself; and
peasants were tortured so fearfully that the hair stood on one's head
at the mere thought of it.
"It will come to this everywhere," said the noble; "it is the
punishment of God. The last judgment is near. Worse and worse every
day,--and salvation from no point."
"It is a marvel to me," said Kmita, "for I am not of these parts and
know not how people feel here, that you, gracious gentlemen, being
nobles and knightly persons, endure these oppressions in patience."
"With what can we rise up?" answered the noble. "In their hands are the
castles, fortresses, cannon, powder, muskets; they have taken from us
even fowling-pieces. There was still some hope in Charnyetski; but
since he is in prison, and the king in Silesia, who will think of
resistance? There are hands, but nothing in them, and there is no
head."
"And there is no hope," added Kmita, in a hollow voice.
Here they dropped the conversation, for a Swedish division came up
convoying wagons, small nobles, and a "requisition." It was a wonderful
spectacle. Sitting on horses as fat as bullocks, mustached and bearded
troopers rode on in a cloud of dust, with their right hands on their
hips, with their hats on the sides of their heads, with tens of geese
and hens hanging at their saddles. Looking at their warlike and
insolent faces, it was easy to see that they felt like lords, gladsome
and safe. But the brotherhood of petty nobles walked at the side of the
wagons, not only barefooted, but with heads drooping on their bosoms,
abused, troubled, frequently urged forward with whips.
On seeing this, Kmita's lips quivered as in a fever, and he fell to
repeating to the noble near whom he was riding,--
"Oh, my hands are itching, my hands are itching, my hands are itching!"
"Quiet, in the name of the Merciful God! you will ruin yourself, me,
and my little children."
More than once, however, Pan Andrei had before him sights still more
marvellous. Behold at times, among parties of horsemen, he saw marching
groups, larger or smaller, of Polish nobles, with armed attendants;
these nobles were joyous, singing songs, drunk, and with Swedes and
Germans on the footing of "lord brother."
"How is this?" asked Kmita. "They are persecuting some nobles and
crushing them, while with others they enter into friendship. It must be
that those citizens whom I see among the soldiers are fanatical
traitors?"
"Not merely fanatical traitors, but worse, for they are heretics,"
answered the noble. "They are more grievous to us Catholics than the
Swedes; they are the men who plunder most, burn houses, carry off
maidens, commit private offences. The whole country is in alarm from
them, for everything drops from these men altogether without
punishment, and it is easier to get justice from Swedish commanders
against a Swede, than against one of our own heretics. Every
commandant, if you utter a word, will answer at once, 'I have no right
to touch him, for he is not my man; go to your own tribunals.' And what
tribunals are there here now, and what execution of law when everything
is in Swedish hands? Where the Swede cannot go the heretics will take
him, and they are the men chiefly who incite the Swedes against
churches and clergy. This is the way in which they punish the country,
our mother, for having given them refuge here and freedom for their
blasphemous faith when they were persecuted in other Christian lands
justly, for their intrigues and abominations."
The noble stopped and looked with alarm at Kmita,--
"But you say that you are from Electoral Prussia, so you may be a
Lutheran?"
"God save me from that," answered Pan Andrei. "I am from Prussia, but
of a family Catholic for ages, for we went from Lithuania to Prussia."
"Then praise to the Most High, for I was frightened. My dear sir, as to
Lithuania there is no lack of dissidents there; and they have a
powerful chief in Radzivill, who has turned out so great a traitor that
he can come into comparison with Radzeyovski alone."
"May God grant the devils to pull the soul out through his throat
before the New Year!" exclaimed Kmita, with venom.
"Amen!" answered the noble, "and also the souls of his servants, his
assistants, his executioners, of whom tidings have come even to us, and
without whom he would not have dared to bring destruction on this
country."
Kmita grew pale and said not a word. He did not ask even--he did not
dare to ask--of what assistants, servants, and executioners that noble
was speaking.
Travelling slowly, they came to Pultusk late in the evening; there they
called Kmita to the bishop's palace or castle to give answer to the
commandant.
"I am furnishing horses to the army of his Swedish Grace," said Pan
Andrei, "and I have orders with which I am going to Warsaw for money."
Colonel Israel (such was the name of the commandant) smiled under his
mustaches and said,--
"Oh, make haste, make haste, and take a wagon for the return, so as to
have something to carry that money in!"
"I thank you for the counsel," answered Pan Andrei. "I understand that
you are jeering at me; but I will go for my own, even if I have to go
to his grace the king!"
"Go! don't give away your own; a very nice sum belongs to you."
"The hour will come when you'll pay me," retorted Kmita, going out.
In the town itself he came on celebrations again, for rejoicing over
the capture of Cracow was to last three days. He learned, however, that
in Pjasnysh the Swedish triumph was exaggerated, perhaps by design.
Charnyetski, the castellan of Kieff, had not fallen into captivity, but
had obtained the right of marching from the city with his troops, with
arms and lighted matches at the cannon. It was said that he was to
retire to Silesia. This was not a great consolation, but still a
consolation.
In Pultusk there were considerable forces which were to go thence to
the Prussian boundary, under command of Colonel Israel, to alarm the
elector; therefore neither the town nor the castle, though very
spacious, could furnish lodging for the soldiers. Here too, for the
first time, Kmita saw soldiers encamped in a church,--in a splendid
Gothic structure, founded almost two hundred years before by Bishop
Gijytski, were quartered hireling German infantry. Inside the sanctuary
it was flaming with light as on Easter, for on the stone floor were
burning fires kindled in various places. Kettles were steaming over the
fires. Around kegs of beer were groups of common soldiers,--hardened
robbers, who had plundered all Catholic Germany, and of a certainty
were not spending their first night in a church. In the church were
heard talking and shouting. Hoarse voices were singing camp songs;
there sounded also the outcry and merriment of women, who in those days
straggled usually in the wake of an army.
Kmita stood in the open door; through the smoke in the midst of ruddy
flames he saw the red, mustached faces of soldiers who, inflamed with
drink, were sitting on kegs and quaffing beer; some throwing dice or
playing cards, some selling church vestments, others embracing low
women dressed in bright garments. Uproar, laughter, the clatter of
tankards, the sound of muskets, the echoes thundering in the vaults
deafened him. His head whirled; he could not believe what his eyes saw;
the breath died in his breast; hell would not have more greatly amazed
him. At last he clutched his hair and ran out repeating as if in
bewilderment,--
"O God, aid us! O God, correct us! O God, deliver us!"