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Updated: May 5, 2025
For you old men remember, and you young men have heard, that the Pantler was the father and benefactor of you all. Whom did he send as manager to his Pinsk estates? A Dobrzynski. Who were his accountants? Dobrzynskis. He chose none for majordomos and none for butlers except Dobrzynskis; his house was full of Dobrzynskis.
Then his head, heavy with its musings, drooped upon his breast, and thus fell asleep the last Warden of the Horeszkos. Warlike preparations for the foray—Protazy’s expedition—Robak and the Judge consult on public affairs—Continuation of Protazy’s fruitless expedition—A digression on hemp—Dobrzyn, the hamlet of gentry—Description of the person and the way of life of Maciek Dobrzynski.
He drooped his head; finally he whistled a mazurka; then he jammed his casque down over his ears and went to the camp, where the sentinels were standing by the cannon: there, to distract his mind, he began a game of cribbage with the private soldiers, and sweetened his sorrow with the cup. Such was the constancy of Dobrzynski to Zosia.
But Dobrzynski wrote back: “Let Pociej remain in debt to Maciej, and not Maciej to Pociej.” So he refused the farm and would not take the money; returning home alone, he lived by the work of his own hands, making hives for bees and medicine for cattle, sending to market partridges which he caught in snares, and hunting wild beasts.
I said to him: ‘See here, Dobrzynski, the goat will come to the butcher’s waggon!’ Well, Dobrzynski, switches are cut for you, you see!” Then he bent over and whispered into the Judge’s ear:— “Judge, if you want to have this matter hushed up, a thousand rubles cash for each head. A thousand rubles, Judge, that’s my last word.”
Dobrzynski merely repeated twice over in a loud voice, “Idiot!” and was so fearfully disgusted with the Notary’s change of garb that he at once rose from the table; slipping out without saying good-bye, he mounted his horse and returned to the hamlet.
Corporal Buzzard Dobrzynski alone neither listened to the band, nor danced, nor made him merry; with his hands behind him he stood glum and sullen and called to mind his old-time wooing of Zosia; how he had loved to bring her flowers, to plait little baskets, to gather birds’ nests, to make little earrings. Ungrateful girl!
Although it would be impossible to point out in a single bar a vulgar utilisation of a national theme, or a Slavonic aping of it, there yet hovers over the whole the spirit of Polish melody, with its chivalrous, proud, and dreamy accents; yea, even the spirit of the Polish language is so pregnantly reproduced in the musical diction as perhaps in no composition of any of his countrymen; unless it be that Prince Oginski with his polonaises and Dobrzynski in his happiest moments have approached him.
Among the Polish composers of the second half of the last century and the beginning of the present whose polonaises enjoyed in their day, and partly enjoy still, a high reputation, are especially notable Kozlowski, Kamienski, Elsner, Deszczynski, Bracicki, Wanski, Prince Oginski, Kurpinski, and Dobrzynski.
While he was still laughing and fencing, Rembajlo had kneeled and embraced him about the knees, and was groaning out between his tears, at every turn of the sword:— “Beautiful! General, were you ever a confederate? Beautiful, splendid! That is the Pulawskis’213 thrust! Thus Dzierzanowski214 bore himself! That is Sawa’s thrust! Who can so have trained your arm except Maciej Dobrzynski! But that?
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