Since the mountaineers gave sure information that on the road to
Chorshtyn there was nothing to be heard of other Swedish parties, the
retinue of the king turned toward the castle, and soon found themselves
on the highway, along which the journey was easiest and least tiresome.
They rode on amid songs of the mountaineers and shouts, “The king is
coming! The king is coming!” and along the road new crowds of men
joined them, armed with flails, scythes, forks, and guns, so that Yan
Kazimir was soon at the head of a considerable division of men, not
trained, it is true, but ready at any moment to go with him even to
Cracow and spill their blood for their sovereign. Near Chorshtyn more
than a thousand “householders” and half-wild shepherds surrounded the
king.
Then nobles from Novy Sanch and Stary Sanch began to come in. They said
that a Polish regiment, under command of Voynillovich, had defeated,
that morning, just before the town of Novy Sanch, a considerable
detachment of Swedes, of which almost all the men were either slain, or
drowned in the Kamyenna or Dunayets.
This turned out to be really the fact, when soon after on the road
banners began to gleam, and Voynillovich himself came up with the
regiment of the voevoda of Bratslav.
The king greeted with joy a celebrated and to him well-known knight,
and amidst the universal enthusiasm of the people and the army, he rode
on toward Spij. Meanwhile men on horseback rushed with all breath to
forewarn the marshal that the king was approaching, and to be ready to
receive him.
Joyous and noisy was the continuation of the journey. New crowds were
added continually. The nuncio, who had left Silesia filled with fear
for the king’s fate and his own, and for whom the beginning of the
journey had increased this fear, was beside himself now with delight,
for he was certain that the future would surely bring victory to the
king, and besides to the church over heretics. The bishops shared his
joy; the lay dignitaries asserted that the whole people, from the
Carpathians to the Baltic, would grasp their weapons as these crowds
had done. Voynillovich stated that for the greater part this had taken
place already. And he told what was to be heard in the country, what a
terror had fallen upon the Swedes, how they dared go no longer outside
fortifications in small numbers, how they were leaving the smaller
castles, which they burned, and taking refuge in the strongest.
“The Polish troops are beating their breasts with one hand, and are
beginning to beat the Swedes with the other,” said he. “Vilchkovski,
who commands the hussar regiment of your Royal Grace, has already
thanked the Swedes for their service, and that in such fashion that he
fell upon them at Zakjevo, under the command of Colonel Altenberg, and
slew a large number,—destroyed almost all. I, with the assistance of
God, drove them out of Novy Sanch, and God gave a noted victory. I do
not know whether one escaped alive. Pan Felitsyan Kohovski with the
infantry of Navoi helped me greatly, and so they received pay for those
dragoons at least whom they attacked two or three days ago.”
“What dragoons?” asked the king.
“Those whom your Royal Grace sent ahead from Silesia. The Swedes fell
on these suddenly, and though not able to disperse them, for they
defended themselves desperately, they inflicted considerable loss. And
we were almost dying of despair, for we thought that your Royal Grace
was among those men in your own person, and we feared lest some evil
might happen to majesty. God inspired your Royal Grace to send the
dragoons ahead. The Swedes heard of it at once, and occupied the roads
everywhere.”
“Do you hear, Tyzenhauz?” asked the king. “An experienced soldier is
talking.”
“I hear, Gracious Lord,” answered the young magnate.
“And what further, what further? Tell on!” said the king, turning to
Voynillovich.
“What I know I shall surely not hide. Jegotski and Kulesha are active
in Great Poland; Varshytski has driven Lindorm from the castle of
Pilets; Dankoff is defending itself; Lantskoron is in our hands; and in
Podlyasye, Sapyeha is gaining every day at Tykotsin. The Swedes are in
greater straits in the castle, and with them is failing the prince
voevoda of Vilna. As to the hetmans, they have moved already from
Sandomir to Lyubelsk, showing clearly that they are breaking with the
enemy. The voevoda of Chernigov is with them, and from the region about
is marching to them every living man who can hold a sabre in his hand.
They say, too, that there is some kind of federation to be formed there
against the Swedes, in which is the hand of Sapyeha as well as that of
Stefan Charnyetski.”
“Is Charnyetski now in Lyubelsk?”
“He is, your Royal Grace. But he is here to-day and there to-morrow. I
have to join him, but where to find him I know not.”
“There will be noise around him,” said the king; “you will not need to
inquire.”
“So I think too,” answered Voynillovich.
In such conversation was the road passed. Meanwhile the sky had grown
perfectly clear, so that the azure was unspotted by even a small cloud.
The snow was glittering in the sunlight. The mountains of Spij were
extended gloriously and joyously before the travellers, and Nature
itself seemed to smile on the king.
“Dear country!” said Yan Kazimir, “God grant me strength to bring thee
peace before my bones rest in thy earth.”
They rode out on a lofty eminence, from which the view was open and
wide, for beyond, at the foot of it, was spread a broad plain. There
they saw below, and at a great distance as it were, the movement of a
human ant-hill.
“The troops of the marshal!” cried Voynillovich.
“Unless they are Swedes,” said the king.
“No, Gracious Lord! The Swedes could not march from Hungary, from the
south. I see now the hussar flag.”
In fact a forest of spears soon pushed out in the blue distance, and
colored streamers were quivering like flowers moved by the wind; above
these flags spear-points were glittering like little flames. The sun
played on the armor and helmets.
The throngs of people accompanying the king gave forth a joyous shout,
which was heard at a distance, for the mass of horses, riders, flags,
horse-tail standards, and ensigns began to move more quickly. Evidently
they were moving with all speed, for the regiments became each moment
more definite, and increased in the eye with incomprehensible rapidity.
“Let us stay on this height. We will await the marshal here,” said the
king.
The retinue halted; the men coming toward them moved still more
rapidly. At moments they were concealed from the eye by turns of the
road, or small hills and cliffs, scattered along the plain; but soon
they appeared again, like a serpent with a skin of splendid colors
playing most beautifully. At last they came within a quarter of a mile
of the height, and slackened their speed. The eye could take them in
perfectly, and gain pleasure from them. First advanced the hussar
squadron of the marshal himself, well armored, and so imposing that any
king might be proud of such troops. Only nobles of the mountains served
in this squadron, chosen men of equal size; their armor was of bright
squares inlaid with bronze, gorgets with the image of the Most Holy
Lady of Chenstohova, round helmets with steel rims, crests on the top,
and at the side wings of eagles and vultures, on their shoulders tiger
and leopard skins, but on the officers wolf skins, according to custom.
A forest of green and black streamers waved above them. In front rode
Lieutenant Victor; after him a janissary band with bells, trumpets,
drums, and pipes; then a wall of the breasts of horses and men clothed
in iron.
The king’s heart opened at that lordly sight. Next to the hussars came
a light regiment still more numerous, with drawn sabres in their hands
and bows at their shoulders; then three companies of Cossacks, in
colors like blooming poppies, armed with spears and muskets; next two
hundred dragoons in red jackets; then escorts belonging to different
personages visiting at Lyubovlya, attendants dressed as if for a
wedding, guards, haiduks, grooms, Hungarians, and janissaries, attached
to the service of great lords.
And all that changed in colors like a rainbow, and came on
tumultuously, noisily, amid the neighing of horses, the clatter of
armor, the thunder of kettle-drums, the roll of other drums, the blare
of trumpets, and cries so loud that it seemed as though the snows would
rush down from the mountains because of them. In the rear of the troops
were to be seen closed and open carriages, in which evidently were
riding dignitaries of the church and the world.
The troops took position in two lines along the road, and between them
appeared, on a horse white as milk, the marshal of the kingdom, Pan
Yerzy Lyubomirski. He flew on like a whirlwind over that road, and
behind him raced two equerries, glittering in gold. When he had ridden
to the foot of the eminence, he sprang from his horse, and throwing the
reins to one of the equerries, went on foot to the king standing above.
He removed his cap, and placing it on the hilt of his sabre, advanced
with uncovered head, leaning on a staff all set with pearls. He was
dressed in Polish fashion, in military costume; on his breast was armor
of silver plates thickly inlaid at the edges with precious stones, and
so polished that he seemed to be bearing the sun on his bosom; over his
left shoulder was hanging a cloak of Venetian velvet of dark color,
passing into violet purple; it was fastened at the throat by a cord
with a buckle of diamonds, and the whole cloak was embroidered with
diamonds; in like manner a diamond was trembling in his cap, and these
stones glittered like many-colored sparks around his whole person, and
dazzled the eyes, such was the brightness which came from them.
He was a man in the vigor of life, of splendid form. His head was
shaven around the temples; his forelock was rather thin, growing gray,
and lay on his forehead in a shaggy tuft; his mustache, as black as the
wing of a crow, drooped in fine points at both sides. His lofty
forehead and Roman nose added to the beauty of his face, but the face
was marred somewhat by cheeks that were too plump, and small eyes
encircled with red lids. Great dignity, but also unparalleled pride and
vanity were depicted on that face. You might easily divine that that
magnate wished to turn to himself eternally the eyes of the whole
Commonwealth, nay, of all Europe; and such was the case in reality.
Where Yerzy Lyubomirski could not hold the first place, where he could
only share glory and merit with others, his wounded pride was ready to
bar the way and corrupt and crush every endeavor, even when it was a
question of saving the country.
He was an adroit and fortunate leader, but even in this respect others
surpassed him immeasurably; and in general his abilities, though
uncommon, were not equal to his ambition and desire of distinction.
Endless unrest therefore was boiling in his soul, whence was born that
suspiciousness, that envy, which later on carried him so far that he
became more destructive to the Commonwealth than the terrible Yanush
Radzivill. The black soul which dwelt in Prince Yanush was great also;
it stopped before no man and no thing. Yanush wanted a crown, and he
went toward it consciously over graves and the ruin of his country.
Lyubomirski would have taken a crown if the hands of the nobles had
placed it on his head; but having a smaller soul, he dared not desire
the crown openly and expressly. Radzivill was one of those men whom
failure casts down to the level of criminals, and success elevates to
the greatness of demigods; Lyubomirski was a mighty disturber who was
always ready to ruin work for the salvation of the country, in the name
of his own offended pride, and to build up nothing in place of it. He
did not even dare to raise himself, he did not know how. Radzivill died
the more guilty, Lyubomirski the more harmful man.
But at that hour, when in gold, velvet, and precious stones he stood in
front of the king, his pride was sufficiently satisfied. For he was the
first magnate to receive his own king on his own land; he first took
him under a species of guardianship, he had to conduct him to a throne
which had been overturned, and to drive out the enemy; from him the
king and the country expected everything; on him all eyes were turned.
Therefore to show loyalty and service coincided with his self-love, in
fact flattered it, he was ready in truth for sacrifices and devotion,
he was ready to exceed the measure even with expressions of respect and
loyalty. When therefore he had ascended one half of that eminence on
which the king was standing, he took his cap from the sword-hilt and
began, while bowing, to sweep the snow with its diamond plume.
The king urged his horse somewhat toward the descent, then halted to
dismount, for the greeting. Seeing this, the marshal sprang forward to
hold the stirrup with his worthy hands, and at that moment grasping
after his cloak, he drew it from his shoulders, and following the
example of a certain English courtier, threw it under the feet of the
monarch.
The king, touched to the heart, opened his arms to the marshal, and
seized him like a brother in his embrace. For a while neither was able
to speak; but at that exalted spectacle the army, the nobles, the
people, roared in one voice, and thousands of caps flew into the air,
all the guns, muskets, and blunderbusses sounded, cannon from Lyubovlya
answered in a distant bass, till the mountains trembled; all the echoes
were roused and began to course around, striking the dark walls of pine
woods, the cliffs and rocks, and flew with the news to remoter
mountains and cliffs.
“Lord Marshal,” said the king, “we will thank you for the restoration
of the kingdom!”
“Gracious Lord!” answered Lyubomirski, “my fortune, my life, my blood,
all I have I place at the feet of your Royal Grace.”
“Vivat! vivat Yoannes Casimirus Rex!” thundered the shouts.
“May the king live! our father!” cried the mountaineers.
Meanwhile the gentlemen who were riding with the king surrounded the
marshal; but he did not leave the royal person. After the first
greetings the king mounted his horse again; but the marshal, not
wishing to recognize bounds to his hospitality and honor to his guest,
seized the bridle, and going himself on foot, led the king through the
lines of the army amid deafening shouts, till they came to a gilded
carriage drawn by eight dapple-gray horses; in this carriage Yan
Kazimir took his seat, together with Vidon, the nuncio of the Pope.
The bishops and dignitaries took seats in succeeding carriages, then
they moved on slowly to Lyubovlya. The marshal rode at the window of
the king’s carriage, splendid, self-satisfied, as if he were already
proclaimed father of the country. At both sides went a dense army,
singing songs, thundering out in the following words:—
“Cut the Swedes, cut,
With sharpened swords.
“Beat the Swedes, beat,
With strong sticks.
“Roll the Swedes, roll,
Empale them on stakes.
“Torment the Swedes, torment,
And torture them as you can.
“Pound the Swedes, pound,
Pull them out of their skins.
“Cut the Swedes, cut,
Then there will be fewer.
“Drown the Swedes, drown,
If you are a good man!”
Unfortunately amidst the universal rejoicing and enthusiasm no one
foresaw that later the same troops of Lyubomirski, after they had
rebelled against their legal lord and king, would sing the same song,
putting the French in place of the Swedes.
But now it was far from such a state. In Lyubovlya the cannon were
thundering in greeting till the towers and battlements were covered
with smoke, the bells were tolling as at a fire. At the part of the
courtyard in which the king descended from the carriage, the porch and
the steps were covered with scarlet cloth. In vases brought from Italy
were burning perfumes of the East. The greater part of the treasures of
the Lyubomirskis,—cabinets of gold and silver, carpets, mats, gobelin
tapestry, woven wonderfully by Flemish hands, statues, clocks,
cupboards, ornamented with precious stones, cabinets inlaid with
mother-of-pearl and amber brought previously to Lyubovlya to preserve
them from Swedish rapacity, were now arranged and hung up in display;
they dazzled the eye and changed that castle into a kind of fairy
residence. And the marshal had arranged all this luxury, worthy of a
Sultan, in this fashion of purpose to show the king that though he was
returning as an exile, without money, without troops, having scarcely a
change of clothing, still he was a mighty lord, since he had servants
so powerful, and as faithful as powerful. The king understood this
intention, and his heart rose in gratitude; every moment therefore he
took the marshal by the shoulder, pressed his head and thanked him. The
nuncio, though accustomed to luxury, expressed his astonishment at what
he beheld, and they heard him say to Count Apotyngen that hitherto he
had had no idea of the power of the King of Poland, and now saw that
the previous defeats were merely a temporary reverse of fortune, which
soon must be changed.
At the feast, which followed a rest, the king sat on an elevation, and
the marshal himself served him, permitting no one to take his place. At
the right of the king sat the nuncio, at his left the prince primate,
Leshchynski, farther on both sides dignitaries, lay and clerical, such
as the bishops of Cracow, Poznan, Lvoff, Lutsk, Premysl, Helm; the
archdeacon of Cracow; farther on keepers of the royal seal and
voevodas, of whom eight had assembled, and castellans and
referendaries; of officers, there were sitting at the feast
Voynillovich, Viktor, Stabkovski, and Baldwin Shurski.
In another hall a table was set for inferior nobles, and there were
large barracks for peasants, for all had to be joyful on the day of the
king’s coming.
At the tables there was no other conversation but touching the royal
return, and the terrible adventures which had met them on the road, in
which the hand of God had preserved the king. Yan Kazimir himself
described the battle in the pass, and praised the cavalier who had held
back the first Swedish onset.
“And how is he?” asked he of the marshal.
“The physician does not leave him, and guarantees his life; and
besides, maidens and ladies in waiting have taken him in care, and
surely they will not let the soul go from the body, for the body is
shapely and young!” answered the marshal, joyously.
“Praise be to God!” cried the king. “I heard from his lips something
which I shall not repeat to you, for it seems to me that I heard
incorrectly, or that he said it in delirium; but should it come true
you will be astonished.”
“If he has said nothing which might make your Royal Grace gloomy.”
“Nothing whatever of that nature,” said the king; “it has comforted us
beyond measure, for it seems that even those whom we had reason to hold
our greatest enemies are ready to spill their blood for us if need be.”
“Gracious Lord!” cried the marshal, “the time of reform has come; but
under this roof your Royal Grace is among persons who have never sinned
even in thought against majesty.”
“True, true!” answered the king, “and you, Lord Marshal, are in the
first rank.”
“I am a poor servant of your Royal Grace.”
At table the noise grew greater. Gradually they began to speak of
political combinations; of aid from the emperor, hitherto looked for in
vain; of Tartar assistance, and of the coming war with the Swedes.
Fresh rejoicing set in when the marshal stated that the envoy sent by
him to the Khan had returned just a couple of days before, and reported
that forty thousand of the horde were in readiness, and perhaps even a
hundred thousand, as soon as the king would reach Lvoff and conclude a
treaty with the Khan. The same envoy had reported that the Cossacks
through fear of the Tartars had returned to obedience.
“You have thought of everything,” said the king, “in such fashion that
we could not have thought it out better ourselves.” Then he seized his
glass and said: “To the health of our host and friend, the marshal of
the kingdom!”
“Impossible, Gracious Lord!” cried the marshal; “no man’s health can be
drunk here before the health of your Royal Grace.”
All restrained their half-raised goblets; but Lyubomirski, filled with
delight, perspiring, beckoned to his chief butler.
At this sign the servants who were swarming through the hall rushed to
pour out Malvoisie again, taken with gilded dippers from kegs of pure
silver. Pleasure increased still more, and all were waiting for the
toast of the marshal.
The chief butler brought now two goblets of Venetian crystal of such
marvellous work that they might pass for the eighth wonder of the
world. The crystal, bored and polished to thinness during whole years,
perhaps, cast real diamond light. On the setting great artists of Italy
had labored. The base of each goblet was gold, carved in small figures
representing the entrance of a conqueror to the Capitol. The conqueror
rode in a chariot of gold on a street paved with pearls. Behind him
followed captives with bound hands; with them a king, in a turban
formed of one emerald; farther followed legionaries with eagles and
ensigns. More than fifty small figures found room on each base,—figures
as high as a hazel-nut, but made so marvellously that the features of
the faces and the feelings of each one could be distinguished, the
pride of the victors, the grief of the vanquished. The base was bound
to the goblet with golden filigree, fine as hair bent with wondrous art
into grape leaves, clusters, and various flowers. Those filigree were
wound around the crystal, and joining at the top in one ring formed the
edge of the goblet, which was set with stones in seven colors.
The head butler gave one such goblet to the king and the other to the
marshal, both filled with Malvoisie. All rose from their seats; the
marshal raised the goblet, and cried with all the voice in his breast,—
“Vivat Yoannes Casimirus Rex!”
“Vivat! vivat! vivat!”
At that moment the guns thundered again so that the walls of the castle
were trembling. The nobles feasting in the second hall came with their
goblets; the marshal wished to make an oration, but could not, for his
words were lost in the endless shouts: “Vivat! vivat! vivat!”
Such joy seized the marshal, such ecstasy, that wildness was gleaming
in his eyes, and emptying his goblet he shouted so, that he was heard
even in the universal tumult,—
“_Ego ultimus_ (I am the last)!”
Then he struck the priceless goblet on his own head with such force
that the crystal sprang into a hundred fragments, which fell with a
rattle on the floor, and the head of the magnate was covered with
blood. All were astonished, and the king said,—
“Lord Marshal, we regret not the goblet, but the head which we value so
greatly.”
“Treasures and jewels are nothing to me,” cried the marshal, “when I
have the honor of receiving your Royal Grace in my house. Vivat Yoannes
Casimirus Rex!”
Here the butler gave him another goblet.
“Vivat! vivat!” shouted the guests without ceasing. The sound of broken
glass was mingled with the shout. Only the bishops did not follow the
example of the marshal, for their spiritual dignity forbade them.
The nuncio, who did not know of that custom of breaking glasses on the
head, bent to the bishop of Poznan, sitting near him, and said,—
“As God lives, astonishment seizes me! Your treasury is empty, and for
one such goblet two good regiments of men might be equipped and
maintained.”
“It is always so with us,” answered the bishop; “when desire rises in
the heart there is no measure in anything.”
And in fact the desire grew greater each moment. Toward the end of the
feast a bright light struck the windows of the castle.
“What is that?” asked the king.
“Gracious Lord, I beg you to the spectacle,” answered the marshal. And
tottering slightly, he conducted the king to the window. There a
wonderful sight struck their eyes. It was as clear in the court as when
there is daylight. A number of tens of pitch-barrels cast a bright
yellow gleam on the pavement, cleared of snow and strewn with leaves of
mountain-fern. Here and there were burning tubs of brandy which cast
blue light; salt was sprinkled into some to make them burn red.
The spectacle began. First knights cut off Turkish heads, tilted at a
ring and at one another; then the dogs of Liptovo fought with a bear;
later, a man from the hills, a kind of mountain Samson, threw a
millstone and caught it in the air. Midnight put an end to these
amusements.
Thus did the marshal declare himself, though the Swedes were still in
the land.