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Salutary counsels of Bartek, called the Prussian—Martial argument of Maciek the Sprinkler—Political argument of Pan Buchmann—Jankiel advises harmony, which is cut off abruptly by the penknife—Speech of Gerwazy, which makes apparent the great potency of parliamentary eloquence—Protest of old Maciek—The sudden arrival of reinforcements interrupts the consultation—Down with the Soplica!
“I beg the floor,” called out the manager of Kleck, a spruce young man, dressed in German costume. His name was Buchmann, but he was a Pole, born in Poland; it was not quite certain that he was of gentle birth, but of that they asked no questions, and everybody respected Buchmann, because he was in service with a great magnate, was a good patriot, and full of learning.
He was the first to forbid that the peasants should bow low before him, saying that that was a sin. Often a company of peasants—I have seen this myself—sit at table with him; he has paid the taxes for the village, and it is quite different at Kleck, though there, Pan Buchmann, you run things in German fashion. The Judge a traitor!
However, this plan did not meet with Pan Buchmann’s approval: Buchmann, prudent man that he was, had not meddled in the battle, but as soon as he heard that they were having a consultation, he hastened to put in his word; he thought the project good, but wanted to alter it, to develop it with more precision, to explain it more clearly, and, first of all, legally to appoint a commission, which should consider the aims of the emigration, the means and methods, and likewise various other matters.
Pan Buchmann, your speech was very eloquent, but eloquence is nothing but noise; sprinkling is the principal thing.”
Do you mean those of Kiev or of Minsk?”132 said old Maciej. “You must mean the Babin government!133 Pan Buchmann, whether God or the devil chose to cast the Tsar upon us I will not dispute with Your Honour; Pan Buchmann, tell us, please, how to cast off the Tsar.”
Buchmann alone did not deign to share in the general joy; he praised the project, but would have preferred to change it slightly, and first of all to appoint a legal commission, which should—but the shortness of the time prevented them from adopting Buchmann’s advice, for in the yard of the castle the officers and ladies, the privates and the village girls were already standing in couples: “the polonaise!” they all shouted with one breath.
Buchmann shouted: “I will never approve an agreement; that’s my system.” Somebody else yelled “Veto,”134 and others seconded him from the corners. Finally the gruff voice of Skoluba was heard, a gentleman from another hamlet. “What is this, my friends of the Dobrzynski family? What does all this mean? How about us, shall we be deprived of our rights?
“Why, it is Soplica,” interrupted Bucket; “and now he even wants to snatch the remnants from the hands of the heir; he is a scoundrel.” “O, he is a tyrant!” squealed Razor. “Then sprinkle him!” added Baptist. “If he is a traitor,” said Buchmann, “to the gallows with him!” “Hurrah!” they all cried, “down with Soplica!”
Is not this so?” “As true as if you were reading it out of a book,” they said. “It is true!” repeated Baptist, “drop after drop, every bit.” “I am always ready to shave!” exclaimed Razor. “Only make an agreement,” courteously begged Bucket, “under whose leadership Baptist and Maciej shall proceed.” But Buchmann interrupted him: “Let fools agree; discussions do not harm the common weal.
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