Генрик Сенкевич
The Deluge. Vol. 1
CHAPTER XXXVII
In Warsaw the Swedes had been managing for a long time. Wittemberg, the real governor of the city and the commander of the garrison, was at that moment in Cracow; Radzeyovski carried on the government in his place. Not less than two thousand soldiers were in the city proper surrounded by walls, and in the jurisdictions beyond the walls built up with splendid edifices belonging to the church and the world. The castle and the city were not destroyed; for Pan Vessel, starosta of Makovo, had yielded them up without battle, and he with the garrison disappeared hurriedly, fearing the personal vengeance of Radzeyovski, his enemy.
But when Pan Kmita examined more closely and carefully, he saw on many houses the traces of plundering hands. These were the houses of those citizens who had fled from the city, not wishing to endure foreign rule, or who had offered resistance when the Swedes were breaking over the walls.
Of the lordly structures in the jurisdictions those only retained their former splendor the owners of which stood soul and body with the Swedes. Therefore the Kazanovski Palace remained in all its magnificence, for Radzeyovski had saved that, his own, and the palace of Konyetspolski, the standard-bearer, as well as the edifice reared by Vladislav IV., and which was afterward known as the Kazimirovski Palace. But edifices of the clergy were injured considerably; the Denhof Palace was half wrecked; the chancellor's or the so-called Ossolinski Palace, on Reformatski Street, was plundered to its foundations. German hirelings looked out through its windows; and that costly furniture which the late chancellor had brought from Italy at such outlay, – those Florentine leathers, Dutch tapestry, beautiful cabinets inlaid with mother-of-pearl, pictures, bronze and marble statues, clocks from Venice and Dantzig, and magnificent glasses were either lying in disordered heaps in the yard, or, already packed, were waiting to be taken, when the time came, by the Vistula to Sweden. Guards watched over these precious things, but meanwhile they were being ruined under the wind and rain.
In other cities the same thing might be seen; and though the capital had yielded without battle, still thirty gigantic flat-boats were ready on the Vistula to bear away the plunder.
The city looked like a foreign place. On the streets foreign languages were heard more than Polish; everywhere were met Swedish soldiers, German, French, English, and Scottish mercenaries, in the greatest variety of uniforms, – in hats, in lofty helmets, in kaftans, in breastplates, half breastplates, in stockings, or Swedish boots, with legs as wide as water-buckets. Everywhere a foreign medley, foreign garments, foreign faces, foreign songs. Even the horses had forms different from those to which the eye was accustomed. There had also rushed in a multitude of Armenians with dark faces, and black hair covered with bright skull-caps; they had come to buy plundered articles.
But most astonishing of all was the incalculable number of gypsies, who, it is unknown for what purpose, had gathered after the Swedes from all parts of the country. Their tents stood at the side of the Uyazdovski Palace, and along the monastery jurisdiction, forming as it were a special town of linen houses within a town of walled structures.
In the midst of these various-tongued throngs the inhabitants of the city almost vanished; for their own safety they sat gladly enclosed in their houses, showing themselves rarely, and then passing swiftly along the streets. Only occasionally the carriage of some magnate, hurrying from the Cracow suburbs to the castle, and surrounded by haiduks, Turkish grooms, or troops in Polish dress, gave reminder that the city was Polish.
Only on Sundays and holidays, when the bells announced services, did crowds come forth from the houses, and the capital put on its former appearance, – though even then lines of foreign soldiers stood hedgelike in front of the churches, to look at the women or pull at their dresses when, with downcast eyes, they walked past them. These soldiers laughed, and sometimes sang vile songs just when the priests were singing Mass in the churches.
All this flashed past the astonished eyes of Pan Kmita like jugglery; but he did not warm his place long in Warsaw, for not knowing any man he had no one before whom to open his soul. Even with those Polish nobles who were stopping in the city and living in public houses built during the reign of King Sigismund III. on Dluga Street, Pan Andrei did not associate closely. He conversed, it is true, with this one and that, to learn the news; but all were fanatical adherents of the Swedes, and waiting for the return of Karl Gustav, clung to Radzeyovski and the Swedish officers with the hope of receiving starostaships, confiscated private estates, and profits from church and other recoupments. Each man of them would have been served rightly had some one spat in his eyes, and from this Kmita did not make great effort to restrain himself.
From the townspeople Kmita only heard that they regretted past times, and the good king of the fallen country. The Swedes persecuted them savagely, seized their houses, exacted contributions, imprisoned them. They said also that the guilds had arms secreted, especially the linen-weavers, the butchers, the furriers, and the powerful guild of tailors; that they were looking continually for the return of Yan Kazimir, did not lose hope, and with assistance from outside were ready to attack the Swedes.
Hearing this, Kmita did not believe his own ears. It could not find place in his head that men of mean station and rank should exhibit more love for the country and loyalty to their lawful king than nobles, who ought to bring those sentiments into the world with their birth.
But it was just the nobles and magnates who stood by the Swedes, and the common people who for the greater part wished to resist; and more than once it happened that when the Swedes were driving common people to work at fortifying Warsaw, these common people chose to endure flogging, imprisonment, even death itself, rather than aid in confirming Swedish power.
Beyond Warsaw the country was as noisy as in a beehive. All the roads, the towns, and the hamlets were occupied by soldiers, by attendants of great lords and nobles, and by lords and nobles serving the Swedes. All was captured, gathered in, subdued; everything was as Swedish as if the country had been always in their hands.
Pan Andrei met no people save Swedes, adherents of the Swedes, or people in despair, indifferent, who were convinced to the depth of their souls that all was lost. No one thought of resistance; commands were carried out quietly and promptly one half or a tenth part of which would have been met in times not long past with opposition and protest. Fear had reached that degree that even those who were injured praised loudly the kind protector of the Commonwealth.
Formerly it happened often enough that a noble received his own civil and military deputies of exaction with gun in hand, and at the head of armed servants; now such tributes were imposed as it pleased the Swedes to impose, and the nobles gave them as obediently as sheep give their wool to the shearer. It happened more than once that the same tribute was taken twice. It was vain to use a receipt as defence; it was well if the executing officer did not moisten it in wine and make the man who showed it swallow the paper. That was nothing! "Vivat protector!" cried the noble; and when the officer had departed he ordered his servant to crawl out on the roof and see if another were not coming. And well if only all were ended with Swedish contributions; but worse than the enemy were, in that as in every other land, the traitors. Old private grievances, old offences were brought up; ditches were filled, meadows and forests were seized, and for the friend of the Swedes everything went unpunished. Worst, however, were the dissidents; and they were not all. Armed bands were formed of unfortunates, desperadoes, ruffians, and gamblers. Assisted by Swedish marauders, Germans, and disturbers of all kinds, these bands fell upon peasants and nobles. The country was filled with fires; the armed hand of the soldier was heavy on the towns; in the forest the robber attacked. No one thought of curing the Commonwealth; no one dreamed of rescue, of casting off the yoke; no one had hope.
It happened that Swedish and German plunderers near Sohachev besieged Pan Lushchevski, the starosta of that place, falling upon him at Strugi, his private estate. He, being of a military turn, defended himself vigorously, though an old man. Kmita came just then; and since his patience had on it a sore ready to break at any cause, it broke at Strugi. He permitted the Kyemliches, therefore, "to pound," and fell upon the invaders himself with such vigor that he scattered them, struck them down; no one escaped, even prisoners were drowned at his command. The starosta, to whom the aid was as if it had fallen from heaven, received his deliverer with thanks and honored him at once. Pan Andrei, seeing before him a personage, a statesman, and besides a man of old date, confessed his hatred of the Swedes, and inquired of the starosta what he thought of the future of the Commonwealth, in the hope that he would pour balsam on his soul.
But the starosta viewed the past differently, and said: "My gracious sir, I know not what I should have answered had this question been put when I had ruddy mustaches and a mind clouded by physical humor; but to-day I have gray mustaches, and the experience of seventy years on my shoulders, and I see future things, for I am near the grave; therefore I say that not only we, even if we should correct our errors, but all Europe, cannot break the Swedish power."
"How can that be? Where did it come from?" cried Kmita. "When was Sweden such a power? Are there not more of the Polish people on earth, can we not have a larger army? Has that army yielded at any time to Sweden in bravery?"
"There are ten times as many of our people. God has increased our produce so that in my starostaship of Sohachev more wheat is grown than in all Sweden; and as to bravery, I was at Kirchholm when three thousand hussars of us scattered in the dust eighteen thousand of the best troops of Sweden."
"If that is true," said Kmita, whose eyes flashed at remembrance of Kirchholm, "what earthly causes are there why we should not put an end to them now?"
"First, this," answered the old man, with a deliberate voice, "that we have become small and they have grown great; that they have conquered us with our own hands, as before now they conquered the Germans with Germans. Such is the will of God; and there is no power, I repeat, that can oppose them to-day."
"But if the nobles should come to their senses and rally around their ruler, – if all should seize arms, what would you advise to do then, and what would you do yourself?"
"I should go with others and fall, and I should advise every man to fall; but after that would come times on which it is better not to look."
"Worse times cannot come! As true as life, they cannot! It is impossible!" cried Kmita.
"You see," continued the starosta, "before the end of the world and before the last judgment Antichrist will come, and it is said that evil men will get the upper hand of the good. Satans will go through the world, will preach a faith opposed to the true one, and will turn men to it. With the permission of God, evil will conquer everywhere until the moment in which trumpeting angels shall sound for the end of the world."
Here the starosta leaned against the back of the chair on which he was sitting, closed his eyes, and spoke on in a low, mysterious voice, -
"It was said, 'There will be signs.' There have been signs on the sun in the form of a hand and a sword. God be merciful to us, sinners! The evil gain victory over the just, for the Swedes and their adherents are conquering. The true faith is failing, for behold the Lutheran is rising. Men! do ye not see that dies iræ, dies illa (the day of wrath, that day) is approaching? I am seventy years old; I stand on the brink of the Styx, – I am waiting for the ferryman and the boat, – I see-"
Here the starosta became silent, and Kmita looked at him with terror; for the reasons seemed to him just, the conclusions fitting, therefore he was frightened at his decisions and reflected deeply. But the starosta did not look at him; he only looked in front of himself, and said at last, -
"And of course the Swedes conquer here when that is the permission of God, the express will mentioned and spoken of in the Prophecies-Oi, people, to Chenstohova, to Chenstohova!" And again the starosta was silent.
The sun was just setting, and looking only aslant into the room, its light broke into colors on the glass fitted in lead, and made seven colored stripes on the floor; the rest of the room was in darkness. It became more and more awe-inspiring for Kmita; at moments it seemed to him that if the light were to vanish, that instant the trumpeting angel would summon to judgment.
"Of what prophecies is your grace speaking?" asked Kmita, at last; for the silence seemed to him still more solemn.
The starosta instead of an answer turned to the door of an adjoining room, and called, -
"Olenka! Olenka!"
"In God's name!" cried Kmita, "whom are you calling?"
At that moment he believed everything, – believed that his Olenka by a miracle was brought from Kyedani and would appear before his eyes. He forgot everything, fastened his gaze on the door, and waited without breath in his breast.
"Olenka! Olenka!"
The door opened, and there entered not Panna Billevich, but a young woman, shapely, slender, tall, a little like Olenka, with dignity and calm spread over her face. She was pale, perhaps ill, and maybe frightened at the recent attack; she walked with downcast eyes as lightly and quietly as if some breath were moving her forward.
"This is my daughter," said the starosta. "I have no sons at home; they are with Pan Pototski, and with him near our unfortunate king."
Then he turned to his daughter: "Thank first this manful cavalier for rescuing us, and then read to him the prophecy of Saint Bridget."
The maiden bowed down before Pan Andrei, then went out, and after a while returned with a printed roll in her hand, and standing in that many-colored light, began to read in a resonant and sweet voice, -
"The prophecy of Saint Bridget, I will declare to you first of the five kings and their rule: Gustav the son of Erick, the lazy ass, because neglecting the right worship he went over to the false. Rejecting the faith of the Apostles, he brought to the kingdom the Augsburg Confession, putting a stain on his reputation. Look at Ecclesiastes, where it is stated of Solomon that lie defiled his glory with idolatry-"
"Are you listening?" asked the starosta, pointing toward Kmita with the index finger of his left hand and holding the others, ready for counting.
"Yes," answered Kmita.
"Erick, the son of Gustavus, a wolf of unsatiable greed," read the lady, "with which he drew on himself the hatred of all men and of his brother Yan. First, suspecting Yan of intrigues with Denmark and Poland, he tormented him with war, and taking him with his wife he held them four years in a dungeon. Yan, at last brought out of imprisonment and aided by change of fortune, conquered Erick, expelled him from the kingdom, and put him into prison forevermore. There is an unforeseen event!"
"Consider," said the old man. "Here is another."
The lady read further: -
"Yan, the brother of Erick, a lofty eagle, thrice conqueror over Erick, the Danes, and the Northerners. His son Sigismund, in whom dwells nobility of blood, chosen to the Polish throne. Praise to his offshoots!"
"Do you understand?" asked the starosta. "May God prosper the years of Yan Kazimir!" answered Kmita.
"Karl, the prince of Sudermanii, the ram, who as rams lead the flock, so he led the Swedes to injustice; and he attacked justice."
"That is the fourth!" interrupted the starosta.
"The fifth, Gustavus Adolphus," read the lady, "is the lamb slain, but not spotless, whose blood was the cause of suffering and misfortune-"
"Yes; that is Gustavus Adolphus!" said the starosta. "Of Christiana there is no mention, for only men are counted. Read now the end, which refers accurately to the present time."
She read as follows: -
"I will show to thee the sixth, who distracts land and sea and brings trouble on the simple; whose hour of punishment I will place in my own hand. Though he attained his end quickly, my judgment draws near him; he will leave the kingdom in suffering and it will be written: They sowed rebellion and reap suffering and pain. Not only will I visit that kingdom, but rich cities and powerful; for the hungry are called, who will devour their sufficiency. Internal evils will not be lacking, and misfortune will abound. The foolish will rule, and the wise and the old men will not raise their heads. Honor and truth will fall, till that man shall come who will implore away my anger and who will not spare his own soul in love of truth."
"There you have it!" said the starosta.
"All is verified, so that only a blind man could doubt!" answered Kmita.
"Therefore the Swedes cannot be conquered," said the starosta.
"Till that man shall come who will not spare his soul for the love of truth!" exclaimed Kmita. "The prophecy leaves hope! Not judgment, but salvation awaits us."
"Sodom was to be spared if ten just men could be found in it," said the starosta; "but that many were not found. In the same manner will not be found the man who will not spare his soul for love of truth; and the hour of judgment will strike."
"It cannot be but that he will be found," called out Kmita.
Before the starosta answered the door opened, and into the room walked a man no longer young, in armor and with a musket in his hand.
"Pan Shchebjytski?" said the starosta.
"Yes," answered the newly arrived. "I heard that ruffians had besieged you, and I hastened with my servants to the rescue."
"Without the will of God a hair will not fall from the head of a man," answered the starosta. "This cavalier has already freed me from oppression. But whence do you come?"
"From Sohachev."
"Have you heard anything new?"
"Every news is worse. New misfortune-"
"What has happened?"
"The provinces of Cracow, Sandomir, Rus, Lubelsk, Belzk, Volynia, and Kieff have surrendered to Karl Gustav. The act is already signed by envoys and by Karl."
The starosta shook his head, and turned to Kmita, -
"See," said he, "do you still think that the man will be found who will not spare his soul for the love of truth?"
Kmita began to tear the hair from his forelock; "Despair! despair!" repeated he, in distraction.
And Pan Shchebjytski continued: "They say also that the remnants of the army, which are with Pototski, the hetman, have already refused obedience and wish to go to the Swedes. The hetman probably is not sure of safety or life among them, and must do what they want."
"They sow rebellion and reap suffering and pain," said the starosta. "Whoso wishes to do penance for his sins, now is his time!"
Kmita could not hear further either prophecies or news; he wanted to sit with all speed on his horse and cool his head in the wind. He sprang up therefore, and began to take farewell of the starosta.
"Rut whither so hastily?" asked the latter.
"To Chenstohova, for I too am a sinner!"
"Though glad to entertain, I will not delay you, since your work is more urgent, for the day of judgment is at hand."
Kmita went out; and after him went the young lady, wishing instead of her father to do honor to the guest, for the old man was weak on his feet.
"Be in good health, young lady," said Kmita; "you do not know how thankful I am to you."
"If you are thankful to me," answered the young lady, "do me one service. You are going to Chenstohova; here is a ruddy ducat, – take it, I beg, and give it for a Mass in the chapel."
"For whose intention?" asked Kmita.
The prophetess dropped her eyes, trouble spread over her face; at the same time a slight flush came to her cheeks, and she said with a low voice, like the rustle of leaves, -
"For the intention of Andrei, that God may turn him from sinful ways."
Kmita pushed back two steps, stared, and from astonishment could not speak for a time.
"By the wounds of Christ!" cried he, at last, "what manner of house is this? Where am I? The prophecy itself, the soothsaying, and the indications-Your name is Olenka, and you give me for a Mass for the intentions of a sinful Andrei. This cannot be chance; it is the finger of God, – it is, it is. I shall go wild! – As God lives, I shall!"
"What is the matter?"
He caught her hands violently and began to shake them. "Prophesy further, speak to the end! If that Andrei will return and efface his faults, will Olenka keep faith with him? Speak, answer, for I shall not go away without that!"
"What is your trouble?"
"Will Olenka keep faith with him?" repeated Kmita.
Tears came suddenly into the eyes of the maiden: "To the last breath, to the hour of death!" said she, with sobbing.
She had not finished speaking when Kmita fell his whole length at her feet. She wanted to flee; he would not let her, and kissing her feet, he said, -
"I too am a sinful Andrei, who wants to return. I too have my loved one, Olenka. May yours return, and may mine keep faith. May your words be prophetic. You have poured balsam and hope into my suffering soul, – God reward you, God reward you!"
Then he sprang up, sat on his horse, and rode away.
