Heaven, if thou wouldst deign to grant the desire of my heart, know that
it lies not in these three stalks which thou offerest me; the recompense
I aim at is higher. What is Honour but the fuel of Pride? what are
Riches but the root of Avarice? and what is Love but the trap-door of
Passion, to ensnare the noble freedom of the heart? Grant me my wish, to
rest under the shadow of thy oak-tree from the toils of warfare, and to
hear from thy sweet mouth the lessons of wisdom, that I may understand
by them the secrets of the future."
"Thy request," replied the Elf, "is great; but thy deserving toward me
is not less so: be it then as thou hast asked. Nor, with the fruit,
shall the shell be wanting to thee; for the wise man is also honoured;
he alone is rich, for he desires nothing more than he needs, and he
tastes the pure nectar of Love without poisoning it by polluted lips."
So saying, she again presented him the three reed-stalks, and vanished
from his sight.
The young Eremite prepared his bed of moss, beneath the oak, exceedingly
content with the reception which the Elf had given him. Sleep came upon
him like a strong man; gay morning dreams danced round his head, and
solaced his fancy with the breath of happy forebodings. On awakening, he
joyfully began his day's work; ere long he had built himself a pleasant
hermit's-cottage; had dug his garden, and planted in it roses and
lilies, with other odoriferous flowers and herbs; not forgetting pulse
and cole, and a sufficiency of fruit-trees. The Elf never failed to
visit him at twilight; she rejoiced in the prospering of his labours;
walked with him, hand in hand, by the sedgy border of the lake; and the
wavering reeds, as the wind passed through them, whispered a melodious
evening salutation to the trustful pair. She instructed her attentive
disciple in the secrets of Nature; showed him the origin and causes of
things; taught him their common and their magic properties and effects;
and formed the rude soldier into a thinker and philosopher.
In proportion as the feelings and senses of the young man grew refined
by this fair spiritual intercourse, it seemed as if the tender form of
the Elf were condensing, and acquiring more consistency; her bosom
caught warmth and life; her brown eyes sparkled with the fire of love;
and with the shape, she appeared to have adopted the feelings of a young
blooming maiden. The sentimental hour of dusk, which is as if expressly
calculated to awaken slumbering feelings, had its usual effect; and
after a few moons from their first acquaintance, the sighing Krokus
found himself possessed of the happiness in Love, which the Third
Reed-stalk had appointed him; and did not repent that by the trap-door
of Passion the freedom of his heart had been ensnared. Though the
marriage of the tender pair took place without witnesses, it was
celebrated with as much enjoyment as the most tumultuous espousal; nor
were speaking proofs of love's recompense long wanting. The Elf gave her
husband three daughters at a birth; and the father, rejoicing in the
bounty of his better half, named, at the first embrace, the eldest
infant, Bela; the next born, Therba; and the youngest, Libussa. They
were all like the Genies in beauty of form; and though not moulded of
such light materials as the mother, their corporeal structure was finer
than the dull earthy clay of the father. They were also free from all
the infirmities of childhood; their swathings did not gall them; they
teethed without epileptic fits, needed no calomel taken inwardly, got no
rickets; had no small-pox, and, of course, no scars, no scum-eyes, or
puckered faces: nor did they require any leading-strings; for after the
first nine days, they ran like little partridges; and as they grew up,
they manifested all the talents of the mother for discovering hidden
things, and predicting what was future.
Krokus himself, by the aid of time, grew skilful in these mysteries
also. When the wolf had scattered the flocks through the forest, and the
herdsmen were seeking for their sheep and horses; when the woodman
missed an axe or bill, they took counsel from the wise Krokus, who
showed them where to find what they had lost. When a wicked prowler had
abstracted aught from the common stock; had by night broken into the
pinfold, or the dwelling of his neighbour, and robbed or slain him, and
none could guess the malefactor, the wise Krokus was consulted. He led
the people to a green; made them form a ring; then stept into the midst
of them, set the faithful sieve a-running, and so failed not to discover
the misdoer. By such acts his fame spread over all the country of
Bohemia; and whoever had a weighty care, or an important undertaking,
took counsel from the wise Krokus about its issue. The lame and the
sick, too, required from him help and recovery; even the unsound cattle
of the fold were driven to him; and his gift of curing sick kine by his
shadow, was not less than that of the renowned St. Martin of Schierbach.
By these means the concourse of the people to him grew more frequent,
day by day, no otherwise than if the Tripod of the Delphic Apollo had
been transferred to the Bohemian forest: and though Krokus answered all
inquiries, and cured the sick and afflicted, without fee or reward, yet
the treasure of his secret wisdom paid him richly, and brought him in
abundant profit; the people crowded to him with gifts and presents, and
almost oppressed him with testimonies of their good-will. It was he that
first disclosed the mystery of washing gold from the sands of the Elbe;
and for his recompense he had a tenth of all the produce. By these means
his wealth and store increased; he built strongholds and palaces; had
vast herds of cattle; possessed fertile pasturages, fields and woods;
and thus found himself imperceptibly possessed of all the Riches which
the beneficently foreboding Elf had enclosed for him in the Second Reed.
One fine summer evening, when Krokus with his train was returning from
an excursion, having by special request been settling the disputed
marches of two townships, he perceived his spouse on the margin of the
sedgy lake, where she had first appeared to him. She waved him with her
hand; so he dismissed his servants, and hastened to clasp her in his
arms. She received him, as usual, with tender love; but her heart was
sad and oppressed; from her eyes trickled down ethereal tears, so fine
and fugitive, that as they fell they were greedily inhaled by the air,
and not allowed to reach the ground. Krokus was alarmed at this
appearance; he had never seen his wife's fair eyes otherwise than
cheerful, and sparkling with youthful gaiety. "What ails thee, beloved
of my heart?" said he; "black forebodings overcast my soul. Speak, say
what mean those tears."
The Elf sobbed, leaned her head sorrowfully on his shoulder, and said:
"Beloved husband, in thy absence I have looked into the Book of Destiny;
a doleful chance overhangs my life-tree; I must part from thee forever.
Follow me into the Castle, till I bless my children; for from this day
you will never see me more."
"Dearest wife," said Krokus, "chase away these mournful thoughts. What
misfortune is it that can harm thy tree? Behold its sound boughs, how
they stretch forth loaded with fruit and leaves, and how it raises its
top to the clouds. While this arm can move, it shall defend thy tree
from any miscreant that presumes to wound its stem."
"Impotent defence," replied she, "which a mortal arm can yield! Ants can
but secure themselves from ants, flies from flies, and the worms of
Earth from other earthly worms. But what can the mightiest among you do
against the workings of Nature, or the unalterable decisions of Fate?
The kings of the Earth can heap up little hillocks, which they name
fortresses and castles; but the weakest breath of air defies their
authority, blows where it lists, and mocks at their command. This
oak-tree thou hast guarded from the violence of men; canst thou likewise
forbid the tempest that it rise not to disleaf its branches; or if a
hidden worm is gnawing in its marrow, canst thou draw it out, and tread
it under foot?"
Amid such conversation they arrived at the Castle. The slender maidens,
as they were wont at the evening visit of their mother, came bounding
forth to meet them; gave account of their day's employments, produced
their needlework, and their embroideries, to prove their diligence: but
now the hour of household happiness was joyless. They soon observed that
the traces of deep suffering were imprinted on the countenance of their
father; and they looked with sympathising sorrow at their mother's
tears, without venturing to inquire their cause. The mother gave them
many wise instructions and wholesome admonitions; but her speech was
like the singing of a swan, as if she wished to give the world her
farewell. She lingered with her husband, till the morning-star went up
in the sky; then she embraced him and her children with mournful
tenderness; and at dawn of day retired, as was her custom, through the
secret door, to her oak-tree, and left her friends to their own sad
forebodings.
Nature stood in listening stillness at the rising sun; but heavy black
clouds soon veiled his beaming head. The day grew sultry and oppressive;
the whole atmosphere was electric. Distant thunder came rolling over the
forest; and the hundred-voiced Echo repeated, in the winding valleys,
its baleful sound. At the noontide, a forked thunderbolt struck
quivering down upon the oak; and in a moment shivered with resistless
force the trunk and boughs, and the wreck lay scattered far around it in
the forest. When Father Krokus was informed of this, he rent his
garments, went forth with his daughters to deplore the life-tree of his
spouse, and to collect the fragments of it, and preserve them as
invaluable relics. But the Elf from that day was not seen any more.
In some few years, the tender girls had waxed in stature; their maiden
forms blossomed forth, as the rose pushing up from the bud; and the fame
of their beauty spread abroad over all the land. The noblest youths of
the people crowded round, with cases to submit to Father Krokus for his
counsel; but at bottom, these their specious pretexts were directed to
the fair maidens, whom they wished to get a glimpse of; as is the mode
with young men, who delight to have some business with the master of the
household, when his daughters are beautiful. The three sisters lived in
great simplicity and unity together; as yet but little conscious of
their talents. The gift of prophecy had been communicated to them in an
equal degree; and all their words were oracles, although they knew it
not. Yet soon their vanity awoke at the voice of flattery; word-catchers
eagerly laid hold of every sound proceeding from their lips; Celadons
noted down every look, spied out the faintest smile, explored the aspect
of their eyes, and drew from it more or less favourable prognostics,
conceiving that their own destiny was to be read by means of it; and
from this time, it has become the mode with lovers to deduce from the
horoscope of the eyes the rising or declining of their star in
courtship. Scarcely had Vanity obtained a footing in the virgin heart,
till Pride, her dear confidante, with her wicked rabble of a train,
Self-love, Self-praise, Self-will, Self-interest, were standing at the
door; and all of them in time sneaked in. The elder sisters struggled to
outdo the younger in their arts; and envied her in secret her
superiority in personal attractions. For though they all were very
beautiful, the youngest was the most so. Fraeulein Bela turned her chief
attention to the science of plants; as Fraeulein Medea did in earlier
times. She knew their hidden virtues, could extract from them poisons
and antidotes; and farther, understood the art of making from them sweet
or nauseous odours for the unseen Powers. When her censer steamed, she
allured to her Spirits out of the immeasurable depth of aether, from
beyond the Moon, and they became her subjects, that with their fine
organs they might be allowed to snuff these delicious vapours: and when
she scattered villanous perfumes upon the coals, she could have smoked
away with it the very Zihim and the Ohim from the Wilderness.
Fraeulein Therba was inventive as Circe in devising magic formulas,
which could command the elements, could raise tempests and whirlwinds,
also hail and thunder; could shake the bowels of the Earth, or lift
itself from the sockets of its axle. She employed these arts to terrify
the people, and be feared and honoured by them as a goddess; and she
could, in fact, arrange the weather more according to the wish and taste
of men than wise old Nature does. Two brothers quarrelled on this
subject, for their wishes never were the same. The one was a husbandman,
and still desired rain for the growth and strengthening of his crops.
The other was a potter, and desired constant sunshine to dry his dishes,
which the rain destroyed. And as Heaven never could content them in
disposing of this matter, they repaired one day with rich presents to
the Castle of the wise Krokus; and submitted their petitions to Therba.
The daughter of the Elf gave a smile over their unquiet grumbling at the
wise economy of Nature; and contented the demands of each: she made rain
fall on the seed-lands of the cultivator; and the sun shone on the
potter-field close by. By these enchantments both the sisters gained
much fame and riches, for they never used their gifts without a fee.
With their treasures they built castles and country-houses; laid out
royal pleasure-gardens; to their festivals and divertisements there was
no end. The gallants, who solicited their love, they gulled and laughed
at.
Fraeulein Libussa was no sharer in the vain proud disposition of her
sisters. Though she had the same capacities for penetrating the secrets
of Nature, and employing its hidden powers in her service, she remained
contented with the gifts she had derived from her maternal inheritance,
without attempting to increase them, or turn them to a source of gain.
Her vanity extended not beyond the consciousness that she was beautiful;
she cared not for riches; and neither longed to be feared nor to be
honoured like her sisters. Whilst these were gadding up and down among
their country-houses, hastening from one tumultuous pleasure to another,
with the flower of the Bohemian chivalry fettered to their
chariot-wheels, she abode in her father's house, conducting the economy,
giving counsel to those who begged it, friendly help to the afflicted
and oppressed; and all from good-will, without remuneration.[13] Her
temper was soft and modest, and her conduct virtuous and discreet, as
beseems a noble virgin. She might secretly rejoice in the victories
which her beauty gained over the hearts of men, and accept the sighing
and cooing of her languishing adorers as a just tribute to her charms;
but none dared speak a word of love to her, or venture on aspiring to
her heart. Yet Amor, the roguish urchin, takes a pleasure in exerting
his privileges on the coy; and often hurls his burning torch upon the
lowly straw-roof, when he means to set on fire a lofty palace.
[13] _Nulla Crocco virilis sexus proles fuit, sed moriturus tres a
morte sua filias superstites reliquit, omnes ut ipse erat
fatidicas, vel magas potius, qualis Medea et Circe fuerant. Nam
Bela natu filiarum maxima herbis incantandis Medeam imitabatur,
Tetcha (Therba) natu minor carminibus magicis Circem reddebat. Ad
utramque frequens multitudinis concursus; dum alii amores sibi
conciliare, alii cum bona valetudine in gratiam redire, alii res
amissas recuperare cupiunt. Illa arcem Belinam, haec altera arcem
Thetin ex mercenaria pecunia, nihil enim gratuito faciebant,
aedificandam curavit. Liberalior in hac re Lybussa natu minima
apparuit, ut quae a nemine quidquam extorquebat, et potius fata
publica omnibus, quam privata singulis, praecinebat: qua
liberalitate, et quia non gratuita solum sed etiam minus fallace
praedictione utebatur, assecuta est ut in locum patris Crocci
subrogaretur_.--DUBRAVIUS.
Far in the bosom of the forest lived an ancient Knight, who had come
into the land with the host of Czech. In this seclusion he had fixed his
settlement; reduced the desert under cultivation, and formed for himself
a small estate, where he thought to pass the remainder of his days in
peace, and live upon the produce of his husbandry. A strong-handed
neighbour took forcible possession of the land, and expelled the owner,
whom a hospitable peasant sheltered in his dwelling. The distressed old
Knight had a son, who now formed the sole consolation and support of his
age; a bold active youth, but possessed of nothing save a hunting-spear
and a practised arm, for the sustenance of his gray-haired father. The
injustice of their neighbour stimulated him to revenge, and he had been
prepared for resisting force by force; but the command of the anxious
father, unwilling to expose his son to danger, had disarmed him. Yet ere
long he resumed his former purpose. Then the father called him to his
presence, and said:
"Pass over, my son, to the wise Krokus, or to the cunning virgins his
daughters, and ask counsel whether the gods approve thy undertaking, and
will grant it a prosperous issue. If so, gird on thy sword, and take the
spear in thy hand, and go forth to fight for thy inheritance. If not,
stay here till thou hast closed my eyes and laid me in the earth; then
do what shall seem good to thee."
The youth set forth, and first reached Bela's palace, a building like a
temple for the habitation of a goddess. He knocked at the door, and
desired to be admitted; but the porter observing that he came
empty-handed, dismissed him as a beggar, and shut the door in his face.
He went forward in sadness, and reached the house of sister Therba,
where he knocked and requested an audience. The porter looked upon him
through his window, and said: "If thou bringest gold in thy bag, which
thou canst weigh out to my mistress, she will teach thee one of her good
saws to read thy fortune withal. If not, then go and gather of it in the
sands of the Elbe as many grains as the tree hath leaves, the sheaf
ears, and the bird feathers, then will I open thee this gate." The
mocked young man glided off entirely dejected; and the more so, as he
learned that Seer Krokus was in Poland, arbitrating the disputes of some
contending Grandees. He anticipated from the third sister no more
flattering reception; and as he descried her father's castle from a hill
in the distance, he could not venture to approach it, but hid himself in
a thicket to pursue his bitter thoughts. Ere long he was roused by an
approaching noise; he listened, and heard a sound of horses' hoofs. A
flying roe dashed through the bushes, followed by a lovely huntress and
her maids on stately steeds. She hurled a javelin from her hand; it flew
whizzing through the air, but did not hit the game. Instantly the
watchful young man seized his bow, and launched from the twanging cord a
bolt, which smote the deer through the heart, and stretched it lifeless
on the spot. The lady, in astonishment at this phenomenon, looked round
to find her unknown hunting partner: and the archer, on observing this,
stept forward from his bush, and bent himself humbly before her to the
ground. Fraeulein Libussa thought she had never seen a finer man. At the
first glance, his figure made so deep an impression on her, that she
could not but award him that involuntary feeling of goodwill, which a
beautiful appearance claims as its prerogative. "Tell me, fair
stranger," said she to him, "who art thou, and what chance is it that
leads thee to these groves?" The youth guessed rightly that his lucky
star had brought him what he was in search of; he disclosed his case to
her in modest words; not hiding how disgracefully her sisters had
dismissed him, or how the treatment had afflicted him. She cheered his
heart with friendly words. "Follow me to my abode," said she; "I will
consult the Book of Fate for thee, and answer thy demand tomorrow by the
rising of the sun."
The young man did as he was ordered. No churlish porter here barred for
him the entrance of the palace; the fair lady exercised the rights of
hospitality with generous attention. He was charmed by this benignant
reception, but still more by the beauty of his gentle hostess. Her
enchanting figure hovered all night before his eyes; he carefully
defended himself from sleep, that he might not for a moment lose from
his thoughts the delightful events of the day. Fraeulein Libussa, on the
contrary, enjoyed soft slumber: for seclusion from the influences of the
external senses, which disturb the finer presentiments of the future, is
an indispensable condition for the gift of prophecy. The glowing fancy
of the maiden blended the form of this young stranger with all the
dreaming images which hovered through her mind that night. She found him
where she had not looked for him, in connexion with affairs in which she
could not understand how this unknown youth had come to be involved.
On her early awakening, at the hour when the fair prophetess was wont to
separate and interpret the visions of the night, she felt inclined to
cast away these phantasms from her mind, as errors which had sprung from
a disturbance in the operation of her prophetic faculty, and were
entitled to no heed from her. Yet a dim feeling signified that this
creation of her fancy was not idle dreaming; but had a significant
allusion to certain events which the future would unravel; and that last
night this presaging Fantasy had spied out the decrees of Fate, and
blabbed them to her, more successfully than ever. By help of it, she
found that her guest was inflamed with warm love to her; and with equal
honesty her heart confessed the same thing in regard to him. But she
instantly impressed the seal of silence on the news; as the modest youth
had, on his side, set a guard upon his lips and his eyes, that he might
not expose himself to a contemptuous refusal; for the chasm which
Fortune had interposed between him and the daughter of the wise Krokus
seemed impassable.
Although the fair Libussa well knew what she had to say in answer to the
young man's question, yet it went against her heart to let him go from
her so soon. At sunrise she called him to her in her garden, and said:
"The curtain of darkness yet hangs before my eyes; abide with me till
sunset;" and at night she said: "Stay till sunrise;" and next morning:
"Wait another day;" and the third day: "Have patience till tomorrow." On
the fourth day she at last dismissed him; finding no more pretexts for
detaining him, with safety to her secret. At parting, she gave him his
response in friendly words: "The gods will not that thou shouldst
contend with a man of violence in the land; to bear and suffer is the
lot of the weaker. Return to thy father; be the comfort of his old age;
and support him by the labour of thy diligent hand. Take two white
Steers as a present from my herd; and this Staff to drive them; and when
it blossoms and bears fruit, the spirit of prophecy will descend on
thee."