taras bulba and his sons had been in the setch about a week. ostap and andrii occupied themselves but little with the science of war. the setch was not fond of wasting time in warlike exercises. the young generation learned these by experience alone, in the very heat of battles, which were therefore incessant. the cossacks thought it a nuisance to fill up the intervals of this instruction with any kind of drill, except perhaps shooting at a mark, and on rare occasions with horse-racing and wild-beast hunts on the steppes and in the forests. all the rest of the time was devoted to revelry — a sign of the wide diffusion of moral liberty. the whole of the setch presented an unusual scene: it was one unbroken revel; a ball noisily begun, which had no end. some busied themselves with handicrafts; others kept little shops and traded; but the majority caroused from morning till night, if the wherewithal jingled in their pockets, and if the booty they had captured had not already passed into the hands of the shopkeepers and spirit-sellers. this universal revelry had something fascinating about it. it was not an assemblage of topers, who drank to drown sorrow, but simply a wild revelry of joy. every one who came thither forgot everything, abandoned everything which had hitherto interested him. he, so to speak, spat upon his past and gave himself recklessly up to freedom and the good-fellowship of men of the same stamp as himself — idlers having neither relatives nor home nor family, nothing, in short, save the free sky and the eternal revel of their souls. this gave rise to that wild gaiety which could not have sprung from any other source. the tales and talk current among the assembled crowd, reposing lazily on the ground, were often so droll, and breathed such power of vivid narration, that it required all the nonchalance of a zaporozhetz to retain his immovable expression, without even a twitch of the moustache — a feature which to this day distinguishes the southern russian from his northern brethren. it was drunken, noisy mirth; but there was no dark ale-house where a man drowns thought in stupefying intoxication: it was a dense throng of schoolboys.
the only difference as regarded the students was that, instead of sitting under the pointer and listening to the worn-out doctrines of a teacher, they practised racing with five thousand horses; instead of the field where they had played ball, they had the boundless borderlands, where at the sight of them the tatar showed his keen face and the turk frowned grimly from under his green turban. the difference was that, instead of being forced to the companionship of school, they themselves had deserted their fathers and mothers and fled from their homes; that here were those about whose neck a rope had already been wound, and who, instead of pale death, had seen life, and life in all its intensity; those who, from generous habits, could never keep a coin in their pockets; those who had thitherto regarded a ducat as wealth, and whose pockets, thanks to the jew revenue-farmers, could have been turned wrong side out without any danger of anything falling from them. here were students who could not endure the academic rod, and had not carried away a single letter from the schools; but with them were also some who knew about horace, cicero, and the roman republic. there were many leaders who afterwards distinguished themselves in the king’s armies; and there were numerous clever partisans who cherished a magnanimous conviction that it was of no consequence where they fought, so long as they did fight, since it was a disgrace to an honourable man to live without fighting. there were many who had come to the setch for the sake of being able to say afterwards that they had been there and were therefore hardened warriors. but who was not there? this strange republic was a necessary outgrowth of the epoch. lovers of a warlike life, of golden beakers and rich brocades, of ducats and gold pieces, could always find employment there. the lovers of women alone could find naught, for no woman dared show herself even in the suburbs of the setch.
it seemed exceedingly strange to ostap and andrii that, although a crowd of people had come to the setch with them, not a soul inquired, “whence come these men? who are they? and what are their names?” they had come thither as though returning to a home whence they had departed only an hour before. the new-comer merely presented himself to the koschevoi, or head chief of the setch, who generally said, “welcome! do you believe in christ?”—“i do,” replied the new-comer. “and do you believe in the holy trinity?”—“i do.”—“and do you go to church?”—“i do.” “now cross yourself.” the new-comer crossed himself. “very good,” replied the koschevoi; “enter the kuren where you have most acquaintances.” this concluded the ceremony. and all the setch prayed in one church, and were willing to defend it to their last drop of blood, although they would not hearken to aught about fasting or abstinence. jews, armenians, and tatars, inspired by strong avarice, took the liberty of living and trading in the suburbs; for the zaporozhtzi never cared for bargaining, and paid whatever money their hand chanced to grasp in their pocket. moreover, the lot of these gain-loving traders was pitiable in the extreme. they resembled people settled at the foot of vesuvius; for when the zaporozhtzi lacked money, these bold adventurers broke down their booths and took everything gratis. the setch consisted of over sixty kurens, each of which greatly resembled a separate independent republic, but still more a school or seminary of children, always ready for anything. no one had any occupation; no one retained anything for himself; everything was in the hands of the hetman of the kuren, who, on that account, generally bore the title of “father.” in his hands were deposited the money, clothes, all the provisions, oatmeal, grain, even the firewood. they gave him money to take care of. quarrels amongst the inhabitants of the kuren were not unfrequent; and in such cases they proceeded at once to blows. the inhabitants of the kuren swarmed into the square, and smote each other with their fists, until one side had finally gained the upper hand, when the revelry began. such was the setch, which had such an attraction for young men.
ostap and andrii flung themselves into this sea of dissipation with all the ardour of youth, forgot in a trice their father’s house, the seminary, and all which had hitherto exercised their minds, and gave themselves wholly up to their new life. everything interested them — the jovial habits of the setch, and its chaotic morals and laws, which even seemed to them too strict for such a free republic. if a cossack stole the smallest trifle, it was considered a disgrace to the whole cossack community. he was bound to the pillar of shame, and a club was laid beside him, with which each passer-by was bound to deal him a blow until in this manner he was beaten to death. he who did not pay his debts was chained to a cannon, until some one of his comrades should decide to ransom him by paying his debts for him. but what made the deepest impression on andrii was the terrible punishment decreed for murder. a hole was dug in his presence, the murderer was lowered alive into it, and over him was placed a coffin containing the body of the man he had killed, after which the earth was thrown upon both. long afterwards the fearful ceremony of this horrible execution haunted his mind, and the man who had been buried alive appeared to him with his terrible coffin.
both the young cossacks soon took a good standing among their fellows. they often sallied out upon the steppe with comrades from their kuren, and sometimes too with the whole kuren or with neighbouring kurens, to shoot the innumerable steppe-birds of every sort, deer, and goats. or they went out upon the lakes, the river, and its tributaries allotted to each kuren, to throw their nets and draw out rich prey for the enjoyment of the whole kuren. although unversed in any trade exercised by a cossack, they were soon remarked among the other youths for their obstinate bravery and daring in everything. skilfully and accurately they fired at the mark, and swam the dnieper against the current — a deed for which the novice was triumphantly received into the circle of cossacks.
but old taras was planning a different sphere of activity for them. such an idle life was not to his mind; he wanted active employment. he reflected incessantly how to stir up the setch to some bold enterprise, wherein a man could revel as became a warrior. at length he went one day to the koschevoi, and said plainly:—
“well, koschevoi, it is time for the zaporozhtzi to set out.”
“there is nowhere for them to go,” replied the koschevoi, removing his short pipe from his mouth and spitting to one side.
“what do you mean by nowhere? we can go to turkey or tatary.”
“impossible to go either to turkey or tatary,” replied the koschevoi, putting his pipe coolly into his mouth again.
“why impossible?”
“it is so; we have promised the sultan peace.”
“but he is a mussulman; and god and the holy scriptures command us to slay mussulmans.”
“we have no right. if we had not sworn by our faith, it might be done; but now it is impossible.”
“how is it impossible? how can you say that we have no right? here are my two sons, both young men. neither has been to war; and you say that we have no right, and that there is no need for the zaporozhtzi to set out on an expedition.”
“well, it is not fitting.”
“then it must be fitting that cossack strength should be wasted in vain, that a man should disappear like a dog without having done a single good deed, that he should be of no use to his country or to christianity! why, then, do we live? what the deuce do we live for? just tell me that. you are a sensible man, you were not chosen as koschevoi without reason: so just tell me what we live for?”
the koschevoi made no reply to this question. he was an obstinate cossack. he was silent for a while, and then said, “anyway, there will not be war.”
“there will not be war?” taras asked again.
“no.”
“then it is no use thinking about it?”
“it is not to be thought of.”
“wait, you devil’s limb!” said taras to himself; “you shall learn to know me!” and he at once resolved to have his revenge on the koschevoi.
having made an agreement with several others, he gave them liquor; and the drunken cossacks staggered into the square, where on a post hung the kettledrums which were generally beaten to assemble the people. not finding the sticks, which were kept by the drummer, they seized a piece of wood and began to beat. the first to respond to the drum-beat was the drummer, a tall man with but one eye, but a frightfully sleepy one for all that.
“who dares to beat the drum?” he shouted.
“hold your tongue! take your sticks, and beat when you are ordered!” replied the drunken men.
the drummer at once took from his pocket the sticks which he had brought with him, well knowing the result of such proceedings. the drum rattled, and soon black swarms of cossacks began to collect like bees in the square. all formed in a ring; and at length, after the third summons, the chiefs began to arrive — the koschevoi with staff in hand, the symbol of his office; the judge with the army-seal; the secretary with his ink-bottle; and the osaul with his staff. the koschevoi and the chiefs took off their caps and bowed on all sides to the cossacks, who stood proudly with their arms akimbo.
“what means this assemblage? what do you wish, gentles?” said the koschevoi. shouts and exclamations interrupted his speech.
“resign your staff! resign your staff this moment, you son of satan! we will have you no longer!” shouted some of the cossacks in the crowd. some of the sober ones appeared to wish to oppose this, but both sober and drunken fell to blows. the shouting and uproar became universal.
the koschevoi attempted to speak; but knowing that the self-willed multitude, if enraged, might beat him to death, as almost always happened in such cases, he bowed very low, laid down his staff, and hid himself in the crowd.
“do you command us, gentles, to resign our insignia of office?” said the judge, the secretary, and the osaul, as they prepared to give up the ink-horn, army-seal, and staff, upon the spot.
“no, you are to remain!” was shouted from the crowd. “we only wanted to drive out the koschevoi because he is a woman, and we want a man for koschevoi.”
“whom do you now elect as koschevoi?” asked the chiefs.
“we choose kukubenko,” shouted some.
“we won’t have kukubenko!” screamed another party: “he is too young; the milk has not dried off his lips yet.”
“let schilo be hetman!” shouted some: “make schilo our koschevoi!”
“away with your schilo!” yelled the crowd; “what kind of a cossack is he who is as thievish as a tatar? to the devil in a sack with your drunken schilo!”
“borodaty! let us make borodaty our koschevoi!”
“we won’t have borodaty! to the evil one’s mother with borodaty!”
“shout kirdyanga!” whispered taras bulba to several.
“kirdyanga, kirdyanga!” shouted the crowd. “borodaty, borodaty! kirdyanga, kirdyanga! schilo! away with schilo! kirdyanga!”
all the candidates, on hearing their names mentioned, quitted the crowd, in order not to give any one a chance of supposing that they were personally assisting in their election.
“kirdyanga, kirdyanga!” echoed more strongly than the rest.
“borodaty!”
they proceeded to decide the matter by a show of hands, and kirdyanga won.
“fetch kirdyanga!” they shouted. half a score of cossacks immediately left the crowd — some of them hardly able to keep their feet, to such an extent had they drunk — and went directly to kirdyanga to inform him of his election.
kirdyanga, a very old but wise cossack, had been sitting for some time in his kuren, as if he knew nothing of what was going on.
“what is it, gentles? what do you wish?” he inquired.
“come, they have chosen you for koschevoi.”
“have mercy, gentles!” said kirdyanga. “how can i be worthy of such honour? why should i be made koschevoi? i have not sufficient capacity to fill such a post. could no better person be found in all the army?”
“come, i say!” shouted the zaporozhtzi. two of them seized him by the arms; and in spite of his planting his feet firmly they finally dragged him to the square, accompanying his progress with shouts, blows from behind with their fists, kicks, and exhortations. “don’t hold back, you son of satan! accept the honour, you dog, when it is given!” in this manner kirdyanga was conducted into the ring of cossacks.
“how now, gentles?” announced those who had brought him, “are you agreed that this cossack shall be your koschevoi?”
“we are all agreed!” shouted the throng, and the whole plain trembled for a long time afterwards from the shout.
one of the chiefs took the staff and brought it to the newly elected koschevoi. kirdyanga, in accordance with custom, immediately refused it. the chief offered it a second time; kirdyanga again refused it, and then, at the third offer, accepted the staff. a cry of approbation rang out from the crowd, and again the whole plain resounded afar with the cossacks’ shout. then there stepped out from among the people the four oldest of them all, white-bearded, white-haired cossacks; though there were no very old men in the setch, for none of the zaporozhtzi ever died in their beds. taking each a handful of earth, which recent rain had converted into mud, they laid it on kirdyanga’s head. the wet earth trickled down from his head on to his moustache and cheeks and smeared his whole face. but kirdyanga stood immovable in his place, and thanked the cossacks for the honour shown him.
thus ended the noisy election, concerning which we cannot say whether it was as pleasing to the others as it was to bulba; by means of it he had revenged himself on the former koschevoi. moreover, kirdyanga was an old comrade, and had been with him on the same expeditions by sea and land, sharing the toils and hardships of war. the crowd immediately dispersed to celebrate the election, and such revelry ensued as ostap and andrii had not yet beheld. the taverns were attacked and mead, corn-brandy, and beer seized without payment, the owners being only too glad to escape with whole skins themselves. the whole night passed amid shouts, songs, and rejoicings; and the rising moon gazed long at troops of musicians traversing the streets with guitars, flutes, tambourines, and the church choir, who were kept in the setch to sing in church and glorify the deeds of the zaporozhtzi. at length drunkenness and fatigue began to overpower even these strong heads, and here and there a cossack could be seen to fall to the ground, embracing a comrade in fraternal fashion; whilst maudlin, and even weeping, the latter rolled upon the earth with him. here a whole group would lie down in a heap; there a man would choose the most comfortable position and stretch himself out on a log of wood. the last, and strongest, still uttered some incoherent speeches; finally even they, yielding to the power of intoxication, flung themselves down and all the setch slept.
