For the Right

by Karl Emil Franzos

"Taras!" cried Anusia, with a shriek of despair, and clutching his arm, "forbear! Speak not lightly; it concerns our deepest welfare--it is a question of life or death!"

Once more the pope interfered. "Hear me, Taras," he said, speaking with a forced calm; "I do not condemn your answer so far, for it is no more than must be expected from your nature and your way of thinking, such as I have known them these years. And as a tree could not change the colour of its leaves at any man's bidding, you also could not have spoken differently, for your words are the outcome of your very being. But I should have to condemn you if you were to disregard that which I will point out to you now, and which no doubt has escaped you hitherto. Listen to me! You are grievously mistaken if you imagine that the law in itself is to blame, or that the Emperor wishes his judges to close an eye when poor peasants are ill-used by rich and powerful oppressors. The law is all right, and those that are appointed to dispense it are required to take a solemn oath that in all cases they will be just and impartial. And again, you are mistaken if you think that our magistrates sometimes pass an unjust verdict wilfully." Taras broke in with a passionate exclamation, but the pope stopped him. "I know what you are going to say," he cried; "you want to remind me that your wife and your children were arrested. I shall come to that presently. Let me urge upon you that, taking all in all, the intentions of the magistrates are good, and the laws are good. Just call to mind your experience as a whole, and tell me, speaking honestly, as before the face of Almighty God, Is it the just or the unjust verdicts which are the exception?"

"I have considered this point often," said Taras, quietly; "it is true that I have heard of far more just than unjust sentences. But what of it, what can it prove?"

"Just this," rejoined Father Leo, warmly, "that an occasional miscarriage of justice is not to be explained by imputing it to the ill-will of magistrates. What else, then, is to blame? you inquire. I remind you that for one thing there is that unfortunate survival of feudal times, whereby the lord of the manor is vested with judicial authority over the peasantry on his lands; this is fully acknowledged to be an evil, not only by you and me, but by Government as well. But it cannot be done away with all of a sudden, nor by violent means, for the landlords exercise their jurisdiction in virtue of Imperial grants acquired by purchase in times long gone by. It is this deplorable state of things which is to blame chiefly, if oppression and injustice go more easily unpunished in this country than elsewhere. But do not imagine, Taras, that we are the only people who ever suffer wrong; nay, that beautiful ladder which has appeared to you in happy vision is not anywhere on earth so firmly planted, so utterly to be relied on, as you dreamed. For the guardianship of Justice in this world is not given to God's angels, but to poor sinful men like you and me. God alone is all-knowing, all-wise, and all-just, and it is man's inheritance to judge of things not as they are, but rather as they appear. I do not deny that there may be unjust judges here and there; yet it is not this fact which is to blame for the continuance of wrong upon earth, but the imperfection of human nature. For everything human falls short of its highest aim, and perfect justice is with God alone; if, therefore, you are bent on continuing your warfare, it will not be against the Emperor and his magistrates, nor against the wrong upon earth, but against human nature and human failings."

Taras had bent his eyes on the ground thoughtfully; but after a pause of silence he shook his head. "I have followed you," he said, "and I grant the truth of your points. But of one thing, the most important of all, you cannot convince me. I will never believe that a man endowed with good sense, provided he is honest, could pass an unjust sentence as it were against himself. And therefore I must continue in my sacred undertaking, for it is nothing to the point why any wrong goes unpunished--whether the human weakness, or stupidity, or the ill-will of the magistrates be at fault. It is enough for me that the wrong is there and requires to be rooted out."

"This is sheer infatuation!" cried Father Leo. "And have you ever considered which is the greater wrong, either as regards your fellows or the will of God--whether some peasant is taxed with more labour than he owes, or whether you fill all the land with horror and bloodshed? Nay, has not a harvest of wrong sprung from your very work? Have we not heard of villages rising against their lords, refusing their just claims, and threatening their lives? Have you forgotten what happened at Hankowce? and what at Zulawce? Does not the blood of many a soldier--nay, of your own men--cry for vengeance unto God?"

"I am not afraid to be answerable for this," responded Taras, "for the Right is more to be valued than any man's life. Both my conscience and my reason tell me that, for the world itself is founded on justice."

"The world founded on justice!" reiterated the pope, hotly. "And how do you know, then, that your judgment is always just? Are not you a man like others, and liable to err?"

"I follow conscience, and rely on the grace of God, which will be with him who seeks what is right. You know my deeds; do you accuse me of any injustice?"

"What of that poor man Hohenau!"