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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Told by the Death's Head, by Mor Jokai
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Told by the Death's Head
A Romantic Tale
Author: Mor Jokai
Illustrator: Charles Hope Provost
Translator: S. E. Boggs
Release Date: December 28, 2010 [EBook #34770]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD BY THE DEATH'S HEAD ***
Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: "Stay, Constable, I want to see what you put into that
fire pot--open it"]
TOLD BY THE
DEATH'S HEAD
A ROMANTIC TALE
BY
MAURUS JOKAI
TRANSLATED BY
S. E. BOGGS
_Translator of Prof. Haeckel's "India and Ceylon," Maurus Jokai's
"The Nameless Castle," etc._
ILLUSTRATED
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CHICAGO AKRON, OHIO NEW YORK
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1902,
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
MADE BY
THE WERNER COMPANY
AKRON, OHIO
PREFACE.
In Part II, Vol. 2, of the Rhenish _Antiquarius_, I once came across a
skull that is said--see page 612--to swing, enclosed in a metal
casket, from an iron bar in the foundry of Ehrenbreitstein fortress.
Distinction of this order does not fall to an ordinary mortal. Yon
empty shell of human wisdom once bore the burden of no less than
twenty-one mortal sins--the seven _originalia_ trebled. Each crime is
noted. The criminal confessed to the entire three-times-seven, and yet
the death sentence was not passed upon him because of the twenty-one
crimes. His fate was decided by the transgression of a military
regulation.
What if this skull could speak? What if it could defend
itself?--relate, with all the grim humor of one on the rack, the many
pranks played--the mad follies committed, from the banks of the
Weichsel to the delta of the Ganges!
If my highly esteemed readers will promise to give me their credulous
attention, I will relate what was told to me by the death's head.
THE AUTHOR.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PREFACE 1
PART I
I THE "FIRE-POT." 5
II THE TRIAL. 17
PART II
I WITH THE ROBBERS--THE PRSJAKA CAVES. 25
II THE BERDICZOV MONASTERY. 85
PART III
IN THE SERVICE OF THE DUKE.
I MALACHI. 101
II PERSIDA. 114
PART IV
WITH THE TEMPLARS.
I IN THE HOLLOW TREE. 138
PART V
THE HOMICIDE.
I ON BOARD MYNHEER'S SHIP. 173
II THE MOO-CALF. 179
PART VI
I THE FORGERY.--ONE CIPHER. 204
II THE LEGACY. 207
PART VII
I PEACEFUL REPOSE. 215
PART VIII
IN BENGAL.
I BEGUM SUMRO. 232
II IDOL WORSHIP. 242
III MAIMUNA, AND DANESH. 249
PART IX
ON THE HIGH SEAS.
I THE PIRATES. 267
PART X
UXORICIDE.
I THE SECUNDOGENITUR. 279
II THE QUICKSANDS. 289
PART XI
IN SATAN'S REALM.
I THE SATYRS. 300
II WITCH-SABBATH. 311
PART XII
THE BREAD OF SHAME.
I THE MAGIC THALER. 323
II THE HUSBAND OF THE WIFE OF ANOTHER MAN. 329
PART XIII
THE EXCHANGE OF BODIES.
I THE QUACK DOCTOR. 335
PART XIV
I THE WHITE DOVE 347
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_By Charles Hope Provost_
"Stay, Constable, I want to see what you put into
that fire pot--open it" _Frontispiece_
"I took my lamp, descended to the crypt" 167
"I could read in her radiant countenance how overjoyed
she was to be with me again; and I was enraptured
to clasp her once more in my arms" 252
"Thus I managed to propel my body slowly, painfully
toward the stable earth" 296
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
THE "FIRE-POT."
The hero of our romantic narrative, or better, narratives, was a
constable. Not one of that useful class appointed, in our day, to
direct the vehicles which pass over the two approaches to the
suspension-bridge in Budapest; rather, he was the chief of a body
whose task it is to provoke disturbance, who win all the more praise
and glory the greater the havoc and destruction they create. In a
word: he was a gunner.
The chronicle of his exploits gives only his Christian name, which was
"Hugo."
In the year 1688, when the French beleaguered Coblentz, Hugo had
charge of the battery in the outermost tower of Ehrenbreitstein
fortress--the "Montalembert Tower."
Coblentz and Ehrenbreitstein are opposite one another on the banks of
the Rhine, as are Pesth and Ofen; and the Blocksberg looks down on us,
as does the citadel of Ehrenbreitstein on Coblentz.
The city, which is strongly fortified on all sides, had become
accustomed to being beleaguered--now by the French, now by the
Prussians; today by the Austrians, tomorrow by the Swedes.
On the occasion of which I write, Coblentz was under a terrible fire
from the French guns, which created great havoc in that portion of the
city known as the "Old Town."
Specially memorable and remarkable was the manner in which the
"fire-balls" seemed to know just where to find the abodes of the duke,
and the commandant of the fortress. It mattered not how often they
changed their quarters, the Frenchmen would always discover them, and
aim accordingly--though it was impossible to see into the city from
outside the walls. There certainly must have been some witch-craft at
work. Hugo's Montalembert tower was on the side of the fortress most
exposed to the assaults of the enemy; its successful defense,
therefore, was all the more worthy of praise.
The management of ordnance in those days was not the comparatively
simple matter it is today, with the Krupp and the Uchatius guns. It
was a real science to fetch from the furnace a white-hot cannon-ball,
ram it into the long, slender culverin, and if, after the discharge,
the ball remained sticking in the throat of the gun, to remove it with
the various forceps, nippers, and tongs; and, after every shot, to
examine with a curious implement resembling Mercury's caducens, the
interior of the culverin to learn whether the discharge had caused a
rupture anywhere.
However, it is not necessary to be a great genius in order to master
all the intricacies and technicalities of a gunner's trade. An
ordinary man might even learn, after some practice, how to handle an
"elephant;" and, if he were intrusted with the quadrant, he might also
manage to discharge the heavier bombs with satisfactory result. It
must be remembered, though, that a gunner needs to possess
considerable skill as well as experience in order to hurl successfully
against the approaching foe a "fire-shield," which discharges
simultaneously from every one of its thirty-five holes as many
bullets; and the "storm-tub" requires even more dexterity. This
implement of warfare runs on two wheels. The axles are spiked with
keen-edged knives, and the wheels are filled with gunpowder, which
ignites and explodes when the machine is set in motion. If the powder
ignites promptly in both wheels at the same instant, the infernal
thing dashes like an infuriated bull into the ranks of the enemy,
burning the eyes of some, scorching the beards of others, and hacking
and slashing everything with which its revolving knives come in
contact. If the powder in only one of the wheels explodes, the machine
spins around on the motionless wheel like a top, and scatters an
entire company; if the second wheel explodes only half a second after
the first, then those who have the management of the demon will do
well to take to their heels with all speed possible.
It is not necessary to explain at length the advantages of the
chain-shot. Anyone will be able to understand its operation if he will
but remember that, when two balls connected by a chain are discharged
toward the enemy, and one of the balls strikes a man, the other ball
will, naturally, circle around the unfortunate until the entire length
of chain is wound tightly about him; the circling ball, meanwhile,
will strike with various results: the head, the nose, the ear, or some
other portion of the bodies of the soldiers within its radius. It is
greatly to be regretted that the use of the "handle-ball" has been
discontinued. This weapon was shaped very much like two pot-ladles,
bound together at the handles by an iron ring. The man who chanced to
be caught between the two ladles might congratulate himself that he
escaped with nothing worse than a choking; while the two soldiers on
his right and left, whose heads had been caught in the bowls of the
ladles, would remember, to the end of their days, the peculiar and
disagreeable sensation experienced. There were two more wonderful
implements of warfare: one a German, the other a French invention. The
former, which was an emanation from Hugo's brain, was called a
"_Bombenjungen-werfer_."[1] It was a huge mortar, the central cavity
capable of holding a bomb of fifty pounds weight; surrounding this
cavity were eight smaller bores, each holding a five-pound bomb. The
same charge hurled every one of the nine bombs in rapid succession
from the mortar; and one can imagine the astonishment of the Frenchman
when, after hearing but one report, the eight "babies" followed, one
after the other, the mother bomb.
[Footnote 1: Anglice: "Hurler of baby-bombs."]
This was a diversion Hugo prepared for the beleaguerers, who in return
invented an amusement for him. It was a "fire-pot," was shaped
exactly like the earthen water-jug the Hungarian reaper carries with
him to the harvest field to preserve his drinking-water fresh and
cool. The machine was made of iron, and filled with a diabolical
mixture. It had four spouts--precisely like our water-jug--from which
the fire would hiss and sputter; it was intended to set fire to
everything combustible where it fell.
The Germans also had what are called "fire-balls," which hiss and
spit, and set fire to everything about them; and other bombs which
explode the moment they touch the earth. The French fire-pot, however,
combined these two properties: it set fire first, and exploded
afterward.
The beleaguered understood very well how to manage a fire-ball. Like
Helene Zrinyi, the heroine who defended the fortress of Munkacs, the
Germans had learned, so soon as a fire-ball fell inside the walls, to
cover it with a wet bullock's-hide, which would at once smother the
fire-spitting monster, and render it harmless.
But the fire-pot was not to be treated so summarily. If the Germans
attempted to smother the fire-demon, to prevent the air from reaching
his four noses, he would burst, and woe to him who chanced to be in
the way of the flying splinters! He, at least, would have no further
desire to sport with a fire-pot.
It happened one day that a fire-pot, which had fallen inside the
fortress, did not explode after it had hissed and spit out its fury.
When it became cool enough it was taken to Hugo.
"Now I shall find out what is inside this dangerous missile," remarked
the constable; "then I'll make some like it and send them to our
friends over yonder."
Over the neck of the fire-pot was a sort of hat, shaped like those
covering the necks of the Hungarian wooden bottles (_esutora_). This
hat, of course, could be removed. After this discovery Hugo invited
the commandant, the grand-duke, the governor and mayor of the city,
the syndic, and the duke's alchemist to be present at the opening of
the fire-pot.
Now each one of the invited said to himself: "It will be enough if the
others are there--why should I go? The infernal machine may explode
when they are opening it."
And so they all stopped bravely at home and Hugo alone found out what
was in the fire-pot.
After it was opened, and Hugo had convinced himself of the nature of
the diabolical compound it contained, he proceeded to cast several
fire-pots like the French one; and, in the presence of the commandant
and the grand-duke, shot them into the enemy's camp. The two
distinguished gentlemen, who were peering through their telescopes,
were highly delighted when they saw the bombs, which flew through the
air like dragons with tails of fire, reach the points at which they
had been aimed, ignite everything inflammable, and afterward explode.
Now and again it would happen that one of Hugo's fire-pots would fail
to explode in the Frenchmen's camp, just as theirs would sometimes
fail to do what was expected of them. But Hugo always collected the
enemy's unexploded bombs, and, after opening and refilling them with
fresh explosives, would hurl them back whence they came.
Oh, I tell you war was conducted in those good old days on economical
lines!
As late even as the year 1809 Napoleon had his men collect 28,000 of
the enemy's cannon-balls on the battle-field of Wagram, and shot them
back at the Austrians; and had the fight continued two days longer,
the opposing armies would have ricocheted the same balls back and
forth so long as the cannonading made it necessary.
The grand-duke, as was proper, rewarded the constable for his
discovery by an increase of pay--from sixteen to twenty thalers a
month; and in addition made him a present of a barrel of strong beer,
which gave offence to the commandant, who was obliged to quench his
thirst with a weaker brew.
Hugo had many enviers, but none of them ventured to pick a quarrel
with him. He had the frame of an athlete; his face, with its luxuriant
red-beard, resembled that of a lion. He was always in a good humor; no
one had ever seen Hugo angry, embarrassed, or frightened. There were
no traces of trouble and grief on his countenance. He was perhaps
forty years of age, was somewhat disfigured by small-pox pits, but
wherever there was a pretty girl or woman to be won, Hugo was sure to
attract her. He was fond of good living--liked everything to be of the
best, consequently his money never remained long in his pockets.
The constable's epicurean tastes irritated the mayor, who, as chief of
the city militia, outranked the artillerist. But Hugo managed on all
occasions to out-do his superior officer. Rieke, the trim little
suttler-wife, would slap the militia captain's fingers if he ventured
to give her a chin-chuck, but a hearty hug from the smiling constable
never met with a repulse. In consequence of the siege prices for the
necessaries, as well as for the luxuries of life, had become
exorbitant in both cities. Three thalers was the unheard-of price
asked at market for a fat goose. The mayor's wife haggled for a long
time about the price without success, when along came pretty Rieke.
"How much for your goose?" she asked.
"Three thalers."
"I'll take it."
She paid the money and marched away with the goose.
By some means the mayor learned that Hugo had a baked fat goose for
his dinner.
"Look here, constable," he said next day to the artillerist, "how
comes it that you can afford to feast on fat goose while I, the mayor,
and your superior officer, must content myself with lean herring,
cheese and bread? Your pay is only twenty thalers a month; mine is
three florins a day. Pray tell me how you manage it?"
To which Hugo made answer:
"Well, mayor, if I wanted to deceive you, I should say that the money
for all the good things I enjoy does not come from my pocket; that
Rieke, who is infatuated with me (how I managed _that_ part of the
business I shouldn't tell you), supplies me with whatever I want. But
I'll be honest with you and tell you the truth--but pray don't betray
my secret, for I don't want to have anything to do with the priests.
What I tell you is in strictest confidence and must not go any
farther: I have a magic thaler, one of those coins, vulgarly called a
'breeding-penny,' that always returns to my pocket no matter how often
I may spend it--"
"You don't say so! And how came you by such a coin, constable?"
"I'll tell you that, too, mayor, only be careful not to let the
Capuchins hear of it. I got the thaler in the Hochstatt marshes, from
a _bocksritter_--"[2]
[Footnote 2: Satyr.]
"I hope you didn't bond your soul to him for it?" interrupted the
mayor.
"Not I. I outwitted the devil by giving the ritter an ignorant Jew lad
in my stead."
"You must keep that transaction a secret," cautioned the mayor; then
he hastened to repeat what he had heard to the grand-duke.
"Would to heaven every thaler I possess were a breeding-penny!"
exclaimed the high-born gentleman. "It would make the carrying on a
war an easy matter."
From the day it became known that Constable Hugo possessed that
never-failing treasure, a magic coin, and was in league with the
all-powerful bocksritter, he rose in the esteem of his fellows.
Meanwhile Ehrenbreitstein and Coblentz continued under bombardment
from the Frenchmen. The enemy's fire-pots never failed to find the
grand-duke's quarters, notwithstanding the fact that he changed them
every day. This at last became so annoying that treason began to be
suspected, and the duke offered a reward for the detection of the spy
who gave the information to the enemy. That a spy was at work in the
German camp was beyond question, though the outlets of both cities
were so closely guarded that it would have been impossible for a
living mortal to pass through them. Nor could the treason have been
committed by means of carrier-pigeons, for, whatever of domestic
fowl-kind had been in the cities had long since been devoured by the
hungry citizens. The mayor, ever on the alert for transgressors, had
his suspicions as to who might be the spy. Every man but one in the
beleaguered cities fasted, lamented, prayed, cursed, wept, as the case
might be, save this one man, who remained constantly cheerful,
smiling, well-fed.
When one of the Frenchmen's fiery monsters came hissing and spitting
into the fortress this one man, instead of taking to his heels and
seeking the shelter of a cellar, as did the rest of his comrades,
would coolly wait until the fire-pot fell to the ground, and, if it
failed to burst he would dig it out of the earth into which it had
bored itself and carry it to the foundry.
Surely this was more than foolhardiness!
The constable always opened the enemy's unexploded fire-pots in his
subterranean work-room; refilled them there, then hurled them back
without delay. There was something more than amusement behind this.
One day, when Hugo came up from his subterranean workroom, he
encountered the mayor, who said to him:
"Stay, constable, I want to see what you put into that fire-pot--open
it."
Without a moment's hesitation Hugo unscrewed the lid and revealed the
explosives wrapped in coarse linen; at the same time he explained how
much gunpowder, hazel-wood charcoal, sulphur, resin, pitch,
sal-ammoniac, borax and acetate of lead were necessary to make up the
amount of unquenchable fire required for the bomb.
"Very good," quoth the city functionary, "but what beside these is
there in the bottom of the pot?"
"Under this earthen plate, your honor, is more gunpowder. When the
explosives on top are burnt out this plate, which has become red-hot,
explodes the powder and bursts the bomb--that is the whole secret of
the infernal machine."
"I should like to see what is under the earthen plate."
As the mayor spoke these words the constable gave a sudden glance over
his shoulder. In the glance was expressed all the temerity of the
adventurer, mingled with rage, determination and alarm. But only for
an instant. The mayor's bailiffs surrounded him, closing every avenue
of escape. Then he burst into a loud laugh, shrugged his shoulders,
and said:
"Very well, your honor, see for yourself what is under the earthen
plate."
The mayor forced open with the blade of his pocket-knife the earthen
plate. There was no powder in the bottom of the bomb, only some
ordinary sand; but in it was concealed a folded paper that contained a
minute description of the situation in the German camp.
"Bind him in chains!" exclaimed the mayor in a triumphant voice. "At
last we have the proofs of your treachery, knave! I'll give you a
pretty Rieke! I'll serve up a fat goose for you!"
Hugo continued to laugh while the bailiffs were placing the fetters on
his hands and feet.
As if to complete the evidence against him, there came hissing at that
moment a fire-pot from the French camp. When it was opened and the
earthen plate removed it was found to contain two hundred Albert
thalers!
CHAPTER II.
THE TRIAL.
[Illustration: Pointing Finger]
The hand with the two lines under it signifies, in the court records
(for the sake of brevity), that at this point in the trial, the chief
of the tribunal gave the signal to the executioner for another turn of
the wheel. When this had been done, the notary would take down the
confession until the prisoner on the rack would cry out:
"Have mercy!--compassion!"
The prince was seated at a separate table, on a black-draped
throne-like arm-chair with a canopy.
The mayor occupied the inquisitor's chair.
First question addressed to the accused:
"What is your name?"
"My name, in Podolia, is 'Jaroslav Tergusko;' in Zbarasz it is 'Zdenko
Kohaninsky;' in Odessa it is 'Frater Hilarius;' in Hamburg, 'Elias
Junker;' in Muenster it is 'William Stramm;' in Amsterdam, 'Mynheer
Tobias van der Bullen;' in Singapore, 'Maharajah Kong;' on the high
seas, 'Captain Rouge;' in The Hague, it is 'Ritter Malchus;' in Lille,
'Chevalier de Mont Olympe;' in Pfalz, 'Doctor Sarepta;' here, I am
called 'Hugo von Habernik.'
"Have you any more names?" inquired the chair.
At this question everybody began to laugh--the prince, the judges, the
prisoner, even the skull on the table. The chair alone remained grim
and dignified.
"I can't remember any more of my names," was the prisoner's reply.
[Illustration: Pointing Finger]
SECOND QUESTION:
"What is your religion?"
"I was born an Augsburg Confession heretic. When I went to Cracow I
became a Socinian; in the Ukraine I joined the Greek church; afterward
I became an orthodox Catholic; later, a Rosicrucian; then a Quaker. I
have also professed the faith of Brahma; and once I was a member of
the community of Atheists and devil-worshipping Manichees, called also
Cainists."
"A fine array, truly!" commented the chair, as the notary entered the
list in the register.
[Illustration: Pointing Finger]
THIRD QUESTION:
"What is your occupation, prisoner?"
"I have been ensign; prisoner; slave; robber-chief; parasite; ducal
grand-steward; mendicant friar; recruiting sergeant; sacristan;
knight; shell-fish dealer; stock-jobber; ship-captain; viceroy;
pirate; teacher; knacker's assistant; conjuror; bocksritter; hangman;
pikeman; quack-doctor; prophet; constable--"
"Stop! Stop!" interrupted the chair. "The notary cannot keep up with
you."
Again the court-room resounded with laughter; the prisoner on the
rack, as well as the skull on the table, again joined in the
merriment. Everybody seemed in a good humor--that is, everybody but
the mayor. He alone was grave.
After the signal to the executioner the fourth question followed:
"Of what crimes are you guilty?"
(For the purpose of greater perspicuity the chair dictated to the
recording secretary the Latin nomenclature of the crimes confessed.)
Prisoners: "I was a member of a band of robbers and incendiaries."
"_Primo, latrocinium_," dictated the chair.
Prisoner: "I won the affections of my benefactor's wife."
Chair: "_Secundo, adulterium._"
Prisoner: "I robbed a church."
Chair: "_Tertio, sacrilegium._"
Prisoner: "I masqueraded as a nobleman under a false name."
Chair: "_Quarto, larvatus._"
Prisoner: "I committed a forgery."
Chair: "_Quinto, falsorium._"
Prisoner: "I killed my friend in a duel."
Chair: "_Sexto, homicidium ex duello._"
Prisoner: "I cheated my partners in business."
Chair: "_Septimo, stellionatus._"
Prisoner: "I betrayed state secrets confided to me."
Chair: "_Octavo, felonia._"
Prisoner: "I used for my own purpose money belonging to others."
Chair: "_Nono, barattaria._"
Prisoner: "I worshipped idols."
Chair: "_Decimo, idololatria._"
Prisoner: "I married a second wife while the first was still living."
Chair: "_Undecimo, bigamia._"
Prisoner: "I also took a third, fourth, fifth and sixth wife."
Chair: "_Eodem numero trigamia, polygamia._"
Prisoner: "I murdered a king."
Chair: "_Decimo secundo, regicidium._"
Prisoner: "I have been a pirate."
Chair: "_Decimo tertia, pirateria._"
Prisoner: "I killed my first wife."
Chair: "_Decimo quarto, uxoricidium._"
Prisoner: "I practiced conjuring."
Chair: "_Decimo quinto, sorcellaria._"
Prisoner: "I have been in league with Satan."
Chair: "_Decimo sexto, pactum diabolicum implicitum._"
Prisoner: "I have coined base money."
Chair: "_Decimo septimo, adulterator monetarium._"
Prisoner: "I preached a new faith."
Chair: "_Decimo octavo, haeresis schisma._"
Prisoner: "I have been a quack doctor."
Chair: "_Decimo nono, veneficus._"
Prisoner: "I betrayed a fortress intrusted to my guardianship."
Chair: "_Vigesimo, crimen traditorum._"
Prisoner: "I have eaten human flesh."
Chair: "_Vigesimo primo, anthropophagia. Cannibalismus!_" cried the
mayor in a loud tone, bringing his fist with considerable force down
on the pandects lying before him on the table. The perspiration was
rolling in great beads over his forehead.
The prisoner on the rack laughed heartily; but this time no one
laughed with him. The executioner had mistaken the chief's wink for a
signal to turn the wheel, which he did, and the sound which came from
the victim's throat was a strange mixture of merriment and agony--as
if he were being tickled and strangled at the same moment.
What the chief's dictation was really intended to signify was that the
proceedings were concluded for the day; that the accused should be
released from the rack and taken back to his dungeon.
It was a most unusual case--unique in the annals of the criminal
court. Never before had a prisoner acknowledged himself guilty of, or
accessory to, so many crimes. It was the first time such a combination
of misdemeanors had come before the tribunal. The accused would
certainly have to be tried without mercy; no extenuating circumstances
would be allowed to interfere with justice.
The prince was extremely interested in the case. He was curious to
learn the coherence between the individual transgressions, in what
manner one led to the other, and gave orders that the trial should not
be resumed the next day until he should arrive in court.
The prisoner had cause for laughter. Before his confession reached its
conclusion, before he could relate the history of his one-and-twenty
crimes, the Frenchmen would capture Coblentz and release him from
imprisonment and death.
But one may laugh too soon!
What was to be done with this fellow?
That the death penalty was his just desert was unquestionable; but in
what manner should it be imposed? Had he confessed only the crime for
which he was now under arrest--treason--the matter might be settled
easily enough: he would be shot in the back. But with so many
transgressions to complicate the matter it was going to be difficult
exceedingly to pronounce judgment.
For instance: the wheel is the punishment for robbery; the polygamist
must be divided into as many portions as he has wives; the regicide
must be torn asunder by four horses. But how are you going to carry
out the last penalty if the accused has already been carved into six
portions? Also, it is decreed that the right hand of a forger be cut
off; the servitor of Satan must suffer death by fire. But if the
accused has been consumed by flames, how will it be possible to bray
him to pulp in a mortar for having committed uxoricide? or, how carry
out the commands of the law which prescribes death by starvation for
the wretch who is guilty of cannibalism?
After much deliberation the prince, with the wisdom of a Solomon,
decided as follows:
"The prisoner, who is arraigned at the bar for treason, having
confessed to twenty-one other transgressions, shall relate to the
court a detailed account of each individual crime, after which he
shall be sentenced according to the crime or crimes found by the
judges to be the most heinous."
This decision was perfectly satisfactory to the mayor; and the judges
gave it as their opinion that, as the accused would require all his
strength for so prolonged an examination, it would be advisable to
substitute the torture by water for that of the rack, as was first
decided.
"No! no!" objected the prince. "The man who is forced to drink nothing
but water is not in the mood to relate adventures (I know that by
experience!) Let the prisoner be subjected to mental torture. Sentence
him at once to death, and when he is not before the tribunal let him
be shut up in the death-cell. The hours spent in that gloomy hole are
a torture sufficient to bring any criminal, however hardened he may
have become, to repentance. Besides, it will be a saving of expense to
the city. The curious citizens, who like to gape at a condemned
prisoner, will, out of compassion, supply this one also with food and
drink. When he has eaten and drunk his fill, we will have him brought
to the court-room. The man who has had all he wants to eat and drink
is talkative!"
The judges concurred with his highness; but the mayor growled in a
dissatisfied tone:
"This knave, who confesses to having committed twenty-one crimes in
addition to the treachery in which we detected him, will, by the
decision of his highness, fare better than his judges, who have
learned during the siege what it is to hunger and thirst."
To which the syndic responded consolingly:
"Never mind, god-father! Let the poor wretch gormandize between the
rack and the gallows. Remember the old saw: 'Today, I--tomorrow,
you.'"
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
WITH THE ROBBERS--THE PRSJAKA CAVES.
I was ensign in a regiment under command of General Melchior Hatzfeld
of the imperial forces. (Thus Hugo began his confession the next day
when he had been brought to the court-room from the death-cell.) My
conduct at that time was exemplary; I acquired so much skill in
handling fire-arms that, at the siege of Cracow, I was advanced to the
position of chief gunner of a battery.
Cracow at that time was in the hands of George Rakoczy, prince of
Transylvania, who had leagued with Sweden to subdue Poland; and he
would most likely have succeeded had not the imperial army come to the
assistance of the Poles.
I shall not dwell long on the siege of Cracow lest I awake in the
minds of the honorable gentlemen of the court a suspicion that, by
relating incidents not immediately connected with my transgressions, I
am purposely prolonging my recital. I shall therefore speak only of
those occurrences which it will be necessary to mention in order to
explain why I committed the crimes of which I am guilty. While with
the army before Cracow I made the acquaintance of the daughter of a
Polish noble. The young lady, who took a great fancy to me--I wasn't a
bad-looking youth in those days, your honors--was a charming creature
of sixteen years, with the most beautiful black eyes. If I remember
rightly her name was Marinka. She taught me how to speak her
language--and something else, too: how to love--the fatal passion
which has all my life been the cause of much of my trouble.
During the siege my general frequently sent me to reconnoiter among
the Hungarian camps; and as I was a fearless youth, I would venture to
the very gates of the manor-houses in the neighborhood of Cracow. At
one of these houses I met my sweetheart; and after that, you may
guess, honored sirs, that it was not for the general's "yellow boys"
alone I risked my neck night after night. No, my little Marinka's
sparkling eyes were as alluring as the gold pieces; and I knew when I
set out on my nightly tour that my sweetheart would be waiting for me
at the gates of her father's place. But our secret meetings were at
last discovered. There was an old witch of a housekeeper who ferreted
out her young mistress' secret, and informed the old noble. One
moonlight night Marinka was teaching me in her own little cozy chamber
how to say: "_Kocham pana z calego zersa_"--which is "Mistress, I love
you with my whole heart,"--when we heard her father's heavy footsteps
ascending the staircase. I tell you I was frightened and said to
myself, "This is the end of you, my lad!" but Marinka whispered in my
ear:
"_Nebojsa!_ (don't be afraid), go into the corridor, walk boldly
toward my father, and to whatever he may say to you, do you reply 'God
is One.'"
Then she softly opened the door, pushed me into the corridor, closed
and locked the door behind me. The old gentleman was coming up the
stairs very slowly because of a lame leg which he had to drag after
him step by step. He had a square red face which I could see only
indistinctly above the burning lunt he carried in one hand, blowing it
continually to prevent it from going out. In the other hand he held a
musket. The blazing lunt must have blinded him, for he did not see me
until the muzzle of the musket came in contact with my breast. Then he
stopped and cried in a stern voice:
"_Kto tam? Stoj!_" (Who are you? Stand!)
"God is One," I made answer. What else could I have said? The old
gentleman's aggressive mien changed at once. He became quite friendly;
he extinguished the lunt by stamping on it with his foot, tapped my
shoulder in a confidential manner and called me little brother. Then
taking me by the arm he led me down the stairs to a room where a huge
fire was blazing on the hearth. Here he bade me seat myself on a
settee covered with a bear skin and placed before me an English flagon
of spirits. After he had arranged everything for my comfort he fetched
from a secret cupboard a small book--it was so small I could have
hidden it in the leg of my boot--and began to read to me all manner of
heretical phrases such as "There is no need for a Holy Trinity,
because the little which is done on earth in the name of God can
easily be done by One alone."
My hair stood on end as I listened to the sinful words and I found
what a trap I had fallen into. My Marinka's father was a Socinian, a
leader of the heretical sect, and he was trying to make a proselyte of
me.
The doctrines of Blandrata had spread extensively throughout Poland,
but, owing to the persecution of its adherents, they could meet and
work only in secret. The old noble's manor was one of their retreats,
where recent converts were received for instruction. When the old
gentleman believed he had enlightened me sufficiently he produced a
heavy volume, bade me lay my right hand on it and repeat after him the
vows of the society.
You may believe I was in a dilemma!
If I refused to repeat the vows I should have to confess that I had
come to the manor for Marinka's sake, then the old noble would fetch
his musket and send me straightway to paradise. If, on the other hand,
I repeated the vows, then I was sure to journey to hades. Which was I
to choose?
Should I elect to travel by extra-post, direct, without stopping, into
the kingdom of heaven, or should I journey leisurely by a circuitous
route, with frequent halts, to hades?
I was a mere lad; I was sorry for my pretty curly head--I chose the
latter alternative!
From that time I became a daily visitor in the retreat of the
followers of Socinus. Being a neophyte I was permitted to take part in
their meetings only during the singing; when the sermon began I was
sent to the gates to guard against a surprise. This was a welcome
duty; for, once outside the house, all thought of taking up my station
at the gates would leave me and, instead, I would climb the tree which
grew close to my Marinka's window, swing myself by a branch into her
room, in which she was kept a prisoner by her father to prevent our
meeting; and there, while the sages below-stairs expounded the dogma
of the unity of God, we two ignorant young people demonstrated how two
human hearts can become as one.
One day our little community received an unexpected addition to its
membership. There arrived from Cracow a troop of Hungarian soldiers
who announced themselves as followers of Socinus. They received a
hospitable welcome from the old noble, whom they overwhelmed with joy
by telling him the prince of Transylvania had become an adherent of
Socinus; that his highness had averred that, were he the King of
Poland, all persecution of the heretics should cease at once and that
some of the churches should be given over to them for their worship.
When I repeated this piece of news to my general he became so excited
he sprang from his seat--his head almost struck the roof of the
tent--and shouted: "It is perfectly outrageous how those Hungarians
will stoop to base methods in order to win allies! If they succeed in
inveigling the Polish Socinians to their ranks then we may as well
stop trying to get them out of Poland!"
Fortunately, however, there arose dissensions between the Hungarian
and the Polish adherents of Socinus. I must mention here, in order to
explain how I became cognizant of the facts I am about to relate, that
Marinka's father had begun to suspect me. Instead of sending me to
stand guard at the gates when the sermon began, I was permitted to
hear it and take part in the disputations.
The Hungarian troopers maintained that it was the duty of all pious
Socinians to commemorate, at every one of their meetings, the death of
the Savior by drinking wine; and they were so extremely devout that an
entire quarter-cask of their host's best Tokay was emptied at every
celebration. After the meetings, when the old noble would lift and
shake the empty wine-cask, I could read in his countenance signs that
heterodoxy was gradually taking root in him. At first he contented
himself with remonstrating against the frequency of the celebration;
surely it ought to satisfy the most devout member of the sect to
observe the ceremony on Sundays, and holy days. But the troopers met
his arguments with scriptural authority for their practices.
Then the old gentleman, finding his remonstrances of no avail, made an
assault upon the dogma itself. He delivered an impassioned address in
which he sought to disprove the divinity of Jesus. To this blasphemous
assertion the Magyars made reply: