Invited hither from our settlement,
And by the Klucznik Rembajlo Mopanku,
They told us that some great things should be done;
Not only the Dobrzynski family,
But the whole district, whole nobility,
Therein should be concerned, and Robak talked
In a like manner, though he never finished,
And indistinctly spoke, and darkly he
Explained himself. At last, the end of ends,
We rode here, and by couriers summoned all
Our neighbours. And you are not here alone,
Masters Dobrzynski. We are full two hundred
From various other farmsteads of us here.
So let us all take counsel. If a Marshal
Be needed, let us all proclaim him, be
The ballot equal. Live equality!”
Two Terajewicze then, four Stypulkowscy,
Three Mickiewicze cried aloud, “Long live
Equality!” Skoluba’s side upholding;
And Buchman meanwhile, “Unanimity
Were ruin!”—And the Baptist said, “We’ll do
Without your help. Long live our Marshal, Matthew
Of Matthews! Hey! unto the staff!” Loud shouted
All the Dobrzynskis, “We entreat you!” but
The stranger nobles, “We permit it not!”194
So in two parties was the crowd divided,
Each nodding in defiance to the rest;
One crying, “We permit it not!” the others,
“We do entreat you!” But old Matthew still
Alone unmoving, in the centre sat,
And the sole head immovable was his.
There opposite to him the Baptist stood,
With both hands leaning on his club; but round
His head he kept turning, leaning on its top,
Like to a gourd fixed on a lofty pole,
And forward now, now back, alternately
He nodded, and unceasing “Sprinkle, sprinkle!”
Exclaimed. Along the room unquiet Razor
Ran from the Baptist unto Matthew’s bench.
The Bucket slowly passed across the room,
From the Dobrzynskis to the noblemen,
As though he would unite them. One cried out
Unceasing, “Shave!” the other, “Deluge ’em.”
Matthew was silent, but ’twas plainly seen
That he was angry. And this uproar raged
A quarter of an hour, when from amid
The heads of all the shouting crowd upsprang
A shining column high. It was a rapier,
A fathom long, a whole span broad, and sharp
On either side; it was a Teuton sword,
Of steel of Nuremberg. All silence kept,
Gazing upon the sword; who carried it
They knew not, but immediately they guessed.
“The Penknife!” they exclaimed; “long live the Penknife!
Hail to the Penknife! jewel of Rembajlo!
Hail to Rembajlo, Notchy-pate, Half-goat,
Mopanku!” Soon Gervasy (for ’twas he)
Pressed through the crowd into the chamber’s midst,
And made the Penknife’s blade to flash around;
Lowering the point in sign of a salute,
To Matthew said: “The Penknife bows unto
The Rod. My brothers, nobles of Dobrzynski!
I come not here to counsel you in aught;
I’ll only tell you why I brought you here,
And what to do, how do’t, yourselves decide.
Ye know that long a rumour goeth round
The nobles’ farmsteads, that great things shall be
Done in the world. Friar Robak spoke of this.
Ye all know?”—“Ay! we know!” they cried. “Good, good.”
“ ‘Unto the wise,’ ” pursued the orator,
With penetrating glance, “ ‘two words suffice.’195
Is this not true?”—“Ay, true indeed,” they said.
“When the French Emperor,” the Klucznik spoke,
“Shall march from there, the Russian Czar from there,
War follows ’twixt the Czar and Emperor.
Kings fall to loggerheads with kings, as is
The custom among monarchs. And shall we
Sit still? When great folks other great men throttle,
Let us the lesser strangle, each his own,
From high to low, the great the great, the small
The small; as soon as we begin to strike
Down falls the whole confederacy of knaves.
Thus flourish happiness and the Republic.
Is not this true?”—“ ’Tis true,” they said, “as though
He read it from a book.”—“True,” did repeat
The Baptist; “sprinkle, sprinkle, and be quits!”
“I’m ready aye to shave,” the Razor cried.
“Do but agree,” the Bucket courteously
Entreated, “under whose command to go,
Baptist and Matthew!” Buchman interrupted:
“Let fools agree. Discussions never hurt
The public cause. I beg you to be still.
Let’s listen, for the cause hereby will gain.
The Klucznik from a new point will discuss it.”
“Rather,” the Klucznik said, “from my great age,
’Tis meet for me to think of weighty things.
To do that there’s an emperor, there will be
A king, a senate, deputies. Such things,
Mopanku, are in Krakow done, or Warsaw,
But not among us here in Dobrzyn. Not
On chimneys with a piece of chalk are written
Confederation Acts, nor in a barge;
On parchment are they written. Not for us
To write an act, for Poland has alike
Crown and Litvanian Writers; our forefathers
Proceeded thus. My business is to slay with
The Penknife.”—“Mine to splash with Sprinkler,” said
The Baptist.—“And to pierce through with the Awl,”
Cried Bartek of the Awl, his slender sword
Producing. “All of us,” the Klucznik said,
“I take as witnesses. For did not Robak
Say that before you in your house receive
Napoleon, you must sweep the dirt away?
Ye all heard that. Do ye all understand?
Who traitorously slew the best of Poles?
Who robbed him, plundered, yet would wrest away
The remnant from the true inheritor?
Who is he? Must I tell you?”—“ ’Tis Soplica.
The villain!” broke in Bucket.—“Fie! the tyrant!”
Hissed Razor forth. “Then sprinkle him!” said Baptist.
“If he’s a traitor,” Buchman said, “then to
The gallows!”—“Down!” cried all, “down with Soplica!”
But here the Prussian dared to undertake
Defending of the Judge, and to the nobles
He cried, with lifted arms: “My brothers! no!
Ah! no! by God’s wounds! What is this new thing?
Sir Klucznik, are you mad? Were we then speaking
Of this? Because a man at one time had
A mad and outlaw brother, shall we then
Chastise him for his brother? That were Christian!
There is some plotting of the Count’s in this.
To say the Judge was hard upon the nobles
Is falsehood! Heaven forbid that it were truth!
It is yourselves would summon him to law,
But he seeks concord with you. Freely he
Doth yield his own; he pays the mark beside.
He has a suit against the Count—what then?
They both are rich; let lord contend with lord.
What’s that to us? The Judge a tyrant! He
Did first forbid the peasant to bow down
To earth before him, saying that was sin.
Not seldom at his house a company
Of peasants (I myself have seen) sit down
With him at table. For his peasantry
He pays the taxes, and it is not so
In Klecko, though you rule there, Master Buchman,
In German fashion. What! the Judge a traitor!
We
