Cossack Tales

by Nikolai Vasilevich Gogol

"Well said, son, well said indeed! If things stand so, I will go with you! By Heavens, I'll do it! What the devil have I to wait here for? Am I then to turn sower or farmer, or to pasture sheep or swine, and make love to my wife? Let them all perish! I am a Cossack, and will not be anything else but a Cossack! There is no war? Well, what then? I'll go with you just to have a look at the Zaporoghians! By Heavens, I will!" and old Boolba grew warmer and warmer in his speech, and at last, becoming quite fierce, rose from the table, drew himself up to his full height and stamped with his foot. "Why should it be put off? Let us ride there to-morrow! Of what use would it be for us to wait? What is this house to us? Of what use is all this furniture? Of what use this crockery?" and with these words he began knocking about and dashing on the ground jugs and dishes.

His poor old wife, seated on a bench, mournfully watched these proceedings of her husband, to which she was accustomed. She dared not interfere, but could not restrain her tears at hearing a decision so awful to her; she looked at her sons, from whom she was threatened to part so soon, and none could describe the extent of the silent intensity of sorrow which seemed to quiver in her eyes and in her convulsively compressed lips.

Boolba was stubborn to an excess. His was one of those characters, which could only take their rise in the gloomy fifteenth century, in a semi-nomad corner of Europe, at a time when the whole of primitive Southern Russia was left by its sovereign princes a prey to the fire and sword of the unconquerable Mogul invaders; when the natives of that country grew daring, after having lost hearth and roof; when they settled upon the sites of their former dwellings, within view of their terrible neighbours and of incessant danger, and learned to forget that there was any such thing in the world as fear; when after having remained dormant for centuries, the Slavonic spirit was inflamed with the love of war. Then it was that the Cossacks broke forth, that powerful sinew of Russian nature, and then the banks of all the rivers and the valleys and rich pasturages were covered with Cossacks. Nobody could number them, and rightly did their bold comrades give answer to the Sultan, who inquired their number, "Who can tell it? all the steppe over; for every mound there is a Cossack!" In truth it was an extraordinary outburst of Russian strength; calamity struck it out of the breast of the Russian people, just as steel strikes fire out of flint. Ancient principalities had disappeared; small towns, with prickers and huntsmen, were no more; petty sovereigns exchanging their possessions had had their time. Instead of these, there arose formidable hamlets, villages and communities bound together by common danger from, and common hatred to, the foes of the Cross. History makes us acquainted how it was that their incessant struggles, and restless life, prevented Europe from falling a prey to the irresistible flood of Tartar invaders, and from being overthrown by them. The Polish kings, who had superseded the Russian princes in the possession of their wide expanse of land, although far from these their possessions, and without the means of enforcing their rule over them, understood the mission of the Cossacks and the advantages derivable from their warlike, lawless mode of life. They gave encouragement to their pursuits, nay, they even flattered them. It was under their remote sway, that Hetmans, chosen from among the Cossacks themselves, transformed hamlets and communities into regiments and regular military circuits. There was no regular standing army; not a soldier was to be seen; but in case of war or any general movement, every one, before eight days were over, appeared on horseback armed from head to foot, but receiving only a ducat from the king, and thus in a fortnight was gathered such a militia as no regular enlistments could ever have produced. The campaign once over, the warrior returned to his fields and pastures, or to the ferries over the Dnieper, betook himself to fishing, trading and brewing beer, and he became once more a free Cossack. Well might foreign writers of this period express their astonishment at the manifold accomplishments of a Cossack. No trade, no business, was unknown to him; he knew how to distil brandy out of corn, how to mend a carriage, how to grind powder; he was acquainted with blacksmith's as well as with locksmith's work; and besides all this he knew how to plunge into the vortex of the most riotous life, to drink and to carouse—as none but a Russian can. Besides the registered Cossacks, who were by duty bound to come forth in case of war, there were, at every period of great emergency, whole troops of mounted volunteers. The essaools had nothing to do but to go through the squares and market-places of every city and village, and there, mounting on some carriage, cry aloud: "Ho! you brewers and coopers! enough of brewing your beer, lolling on your ovens, and feeding flies with the fat of your bodies! Come and seek the glory and honour of knights! And you, ploughmen, sowers, shepherds, loiterers, have done with going behind the plough and daubing your yellow boots with mud, with running after girls and destroying your knightly strength. The time is come to win a Cossack's glory!"

And these words fell like so many sparks upon dry wood. Ploughmen broke their ploughs, brewers and coopers destroyed their tubs and casks, mechanics and tradesmen sent handicraft and trade to the devil, broke the furniture in their houses, and every one, be he who he might, set off on horseback. In a word, here it was that the Russian character showed itself in its boldest and most striking outlines, and received its most powerful development.

Tarass Boolba was one of the old colonels, and a colonel of the old school too. In him seemed combined everything which makes a warrior, and his character was stamped by a stern uprightness. In those times the influence of Poland already began to be felt amongst the nobility of South Russia; many of the nobles began to adopt Polish fashions, to indulge in luxury, to keep a magnificent revenue, hawks, and huntsmen, to give banquets and entertainments. All this was displeasing to Tarass; he liked the simple manner of life of the Cossacks, and quarrelled with those of his comrades who inclined towards the Warsaw party, nicknaming them the servants of Polish lords. Ever unconquerable, he took it for granted that he was the rightful defender of orthodoxy. He went, of his own accord, into every village where the tenants complained of oppression or of additional taxes laid on the cottages, and constituting himself judge of these grievances, he made it a rule that the sword was to be used on three occasions, viz., when the Polish commissaries did not pay due respect to the Elders, and stood covered before them; when they insulted orthodoxy, and did not observe the faith of their forefathers; and lastly, when the foes were misbelievers or Turks, against whom, according to his notions, a Christian was in every case allowed to raise his sword.

Now Tarass pictured to himself, beforehand, the pleasure he should have in bringing his sons to the Ssiecha, and in saying, "Look at them, are not these fine fellows that I have brought you!" how he would introduce them to all his old comrades, hardened in so many combats; how he would behold their first deeds in war and in carousing, which was also accounted one of the great accomplishments of a knight. At first, he had thought of sending them by themselves; but, on seeing the freshness of their manly beauty, the height and strength of their frames, his warlike spirit kindled, and he resolved to go with them himself, although nothing but the stubbornness of his own will made it requisite. He was already busy giving orders, making choice of horses and trappings for his young sons, going into the stables and barns, and indicating; the servants who were to start on the morrow with him. He deputed his authority to the Essaool Tovkach, giving him strict orders to come with his regiment at his first summons, were he to send from the Ssiecha for it. He forgot nothing, though he was rather tipsy, and his head was not yet quite clear. He even gave orders to water the horses, and to put the best and largest grained wheat into their mangers. At last he returned, tired out with his work. "Well, children, let us go to sleep, and to-morrow we shall do what God wills. No beds! we don't want beds; we will sleep in the yard."

Night had scarcely crept over the sky, but Boolba always went to rest early. He lay down upon a carpet and rolled himself up in a sheepskin cloak, because the night was rather fresh, and because he always liked when at home to be warmly covered. He was soon snoring, and every one in the yard followed his example. All who were lying about in different corners of the yard set off snoring; first of all the watchman fell asleep, for he had got more tipsy than any one on the occasion of the young masters' arrival. The poor mother alone could not sleep; she reclined on the pillow of her dear sons, who were lying side by side; she smoothed their young negligently intermingled curls, moistening them with tears. She was gazing at them, ay, gazing at them with all her soul; her whole being seemed absorbed in sight, and she could not cease gazing. With her own milk she had fed them—she had watched them grow—she had tended them—and now, she sees them near her only for a moment. "Sons, my own dear sons, what will happen to you? What is in store for you?" and tears ran down on the wrinkles which disfigured her once handsome face.

And, indeed, she was to be pitied, as were nil the women of those warlike times. For one moment only had she enjoyed love, which wits during the first impulse merely of youth and passion; and then her stern lover had quitted her for his sabre, for his comrades, and for carousing. During the whole course of the year, she saw her husband but for two or three days, and then years passed away without hearing anything about him. And, even when she happened to see him, and live with him, what a life was hers; she received nothing from him but insults, and often even blows. The caresses bestowed upon her were nothing but charity, she saw it. Strange was her existence among that mob of heartless warriors, whose features bore the bronzed colouring peculiar to the Zaporoghians. She had seen her youth glide away without enjoyment, and her beautiful fresh cheeks fade without kisses and shrivel into wrinkles before due time. All her love, all her feelings, all that is tender and passionate in a woman, all was concentrated for her in one feeling—that of a mother. And like a bird of the steppe, she feverishly, passionately, and tearfully hovered over her children. Her sons, her dear sons, are to be taken away from her; to be taken where she may never see them again. Who knows? may be in the first battle a Tartar will cut off their heads, and she will not even know where to find their corpses; perhaps those corpses, for each morsel of which, for each drop of whose blood she would give everything in the world, those very corpses may be thrown aside, and the wild birds of prey may tear them to pieces. Sobbing, she looked in their eyes, which sleep already began to close, and she thought— "Who knows but that Boolba, on awaking, may put off the departure for some two or three days; may be he resolved to start so soon, merely from having drunk too much."

The moon had long ago risen in the heavens, and from their height shone down on the yard, covered with sleeping Cossacks, on the thick sallows, and on the high grass which had overgrown the palisade surrounding the yard. Still the mother remained sitting beside her dear sons, never taking her eyes off them for a moment, and never caring for sleep. The horses, feeling the approach of the dawn, lay down and ceased to feed; the upper leaves of the sallows began to move, and, by degrees, the murmuring current descended to the branches beneath. The mother remained sitting till dawn. She felt no weariness, and inwardly wished that the night might last still longer. Already the sonorous neighing of the foals was heard from the steppe; red streaks brightly illumined the sky. All at once Boolba awoke and sprang to his feet; he was perfectly aware of the orders he had given on the preceding day....

"Up lads, away with sleep! it is time, it is time. Give the horses their drink. Where is the old woman (so he usually called his wife)? Quick, old woman! prepare our meal—we have a long journey before us!"