Pan Tadeusz by Adam Mickiewicz & Bill Johnston

Author:Adam Mickiewicz & Bill Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2018-09-24T16:00:00+00:00

Book VII: The Council

Salutary advice from Bartek known as the Prussian –

A soldierly contribution from Maciej the Baptist –

A political contribution from Mr. Buchman – Jankiel’s call for

reconciliation, cut off by Jackknife – Gerwazy’s speech,

revealing the great consequences of parliamentary oratory –

Old Maciej protests – The sudden arrival of reinforcements

terminates the council – Strike the Soplicas!

Bartek, one of the messengers, had the floor.

Often in Königsberg (he’d travel there

By barge), he was called “the Prussian”—a pleasantry,

Since he despised the Prussians utterly,

Though he liked to speak about them. Gray-haired now,

He’d seen the world, had traveled high and low.

He followed politics, always read the news—

Those present could profit greatly from his views.

He was just ending:

“Maciej, sir—my brother,

And for us all a champion and a father—

It isn’t futile aid. In times of war

The French are dependable as aces four.

They’re fighters. Since Tadeusz Kościuszko’s day

There’s been no military prodigy

To match great Bonaparte, their emperor.

“When the French crossed the Warta in the year

Of eighteen hundred six, I was abroad,

I well recall; with Gdańsk I’d certain trade,

While I was staying with relatives who reside

Near Poznań. Józef Grabowski, who’s become

Head of a regiment, then had his home

In the country close to Objezierze House.

We’d often hunt small game, the two of us.

The region was quiet as ours still is today.

Then news of a fearful battle came our way

In a note from Mr. Todwen as we rode.

Grabowski read it. “Jena! Jena!” he cried.

“The Prussians have had a thrashing—victory!”

Dismounting, I dropped down on bended knee

To thank the Lord.

“We rode to town, as though

We’d business there, feigning we didn’t know.

We see the government commissars en masse,

The Landrats, Hofrats—rats of every class—

All cringing there before us, pale and hushed

Like German roaches waiting to be crushed.

Laughing with glee, we humbly asked: ‘What’s new?

Have you had word from Jena, any of you?’

They were scared stiff, amazed that their defeat

Was known to us. ‘Mein Gott!’ we heard them bleat.

They scurried home, then out of town they swarmed.

What a to-do! The local roads were crammed

With Krautish refugees. You saw them crawl

Like insects, dragging the carts their people call

‘Vornagels’ and ‘wagens.’ Women with their kettles,

Men with their pipes, lugging their goods and chattels:

Trunks, bedding…We decide it would be sweet

To ride out there and hamper their retreat!

Beat up the Landrats, kick the Hofrats, yank

The pigtails of the Herrs in army rank.

Then General Dąbrowski brought instruction

From the Emperor to Poznań: Insurrection!

In one short week we’d thrashed the Prussian band

And driven them out so not a one remained.

“With a bit of dash, could what befell the Prussians

Happen in Lithuania to the Russians?

Maciej, what do you think? If the Emperor

And Moscow are daggers drawn, then he means war

With his vast force—a hero like no other!

What do you reckon, Maciej, our good father?”

He ended. All awaited Maciej’s word.

Maciej merely sat still, looked down and stared,

Though he touched his side as if he sought his sword

(He hadn’t worn it since partition, though

By force of habit his hand would always go

To his left side when Russians were talked about—

Absently reaching for his Twig, no doubt;

So “Leftsides” was another name for him).

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