discourse, and the minds of all were favourably disposed towards the
Lady Libussa. Yet at the very moment when they were about to collect
the votes, a croaking raven flew over the place of election; this
unfavourable omen interrupted all further deliberation, and the
election was deferred to the following day. The Lady Bela had sent the
ill-omened bird to disturb the proceedings, for she knew well enough
the inclination of the voters, and Prince Wladomir had inspired her
with the bitterest hate. She held counsel with her sister Therba, and
they came to the determination that they would be revenged on the
common calumniator, who had insulted both of them, and despatched a
heavy nightmare, that should squeeze the soul out of his body. The
bold knight suspected nothing of this danger, but went, as was his
wont, to wait upon his mistress, and received from her the first kind
look, from which he promised himself a whole heaven of bliss. If any
thing could increase his delight, it was the present of a rose which
adorned the lady’s bosom, and which she gave him with the order that he
was to let it wither by his heart. To these words he gave an
interpretation very different from that which was meant, since no
science is more fallacious than the art of expounding in love. There
mistakes are quite at home. The enamoured knight was bent on keeping
the rose fresh and blooming as long as possible; he set it in fresh
water in a flower-pot, and went to sleep with the most flattering hopes.
In the gloomy hour of midnight came the destroying angel, sent by the
Lady Bela. He glided in; he blew open, with his gasping breath, the
locks and bolts on the doors of the bed-room, and fell with immense
weight on the sleeping knight, pressing him down with such suffocating
force, that he thought, when he woke, a mill-stone had been rolled upon
his neck. In this painful situation, while he fancied the last moment
of his life was come, he fortunately thought of the rose which stood in
the flower-pot by his bed, pressed it to his heart, and said: “Fade
away with me, fair rose, and perish on my lifeless bosom, as a proof
that my last thought was bestowed on thy lovely possessor.” At once
his heart became lighter, the heavy nightmare could not resist the
magic power of the flower, his oppressive weight did not now exceed
that of so much down; the dislike of the perfume soon drove him out of
the chamber altogether, and the narcotic quality of the scent again
lulled the knight into a refreshing slumber. At sunrise he rose fresh
and cheerful, and rode to the place of election to ascertain what
impression his simile had made on the minds of the electors, and to
observe the course that the affair might take this time; intending, at
all events, if any opposing gale should arise, and threaten to run
aground the wavering boat of his hopes and wishes, at once to seize on
the helm and steer directly against it.
This time, however, there was no danger. The solemn electoral senate
had during the night so thoroughly ruminated on, and digested
Wladomir’s parable, that it was actually infused into their very heart
and mind. A brisk knight, who perceived these favourable crises, and
who in affairs of the heart sympathised with the tender Wladomir,
endeavoured either to deprive the latter of the honour of placing the
lady on the Bohemian throne, or at any rate to share it with him. He
stepped forward, drew his sword, proclaimed with a loud voice, Libussa,
Duchess of Bohemia, and desired every one who had the same opinion to
draw the sword like him and defend his choice. At once several hundred
swords glittered on the place of election, a loud cry of joy announced
the new sovereign, and on all sides resounded the shout of the people:
“Let Libussa be our duchess!” A deputation was appointed, with Prince
Wladomir and the sword-drawer at the head of it, to announce to the
lady her elevation to the ducal rank. With the modest blush which
gives to female charms the highest expression of grace, she accepted
the sovereignty over the people, and every heart was subjugated by the
magic of her pleasing aspect. The people paid her homage with the
greatest delight, and although the two sisters envied her, and employed
their secret arts to avenge themselves both on her and their country,
for the slight that had been offered them, endeavouring by the leaven
of calumny and malicious interpretation of all their sister’s deeds and
actions, to bring about in the nation a shameful ferment, and to
undermine the peace and happiness of her mild virgin dominion; yet
Libussa knew how to meet these unsisterly attempts with prudence, and
to annihilate all the hostile plans and spells of the unnatural pair,
till at last they were tired of exercising upon her their inefficient
powers.
The sighing Wladomir waited in the meanwhile with the most ardent
longing for the development of his fate. More than once he ventured to
foresee the end in the lovely eyes of his sovereign, but Libussa had
imposed a deep silence on the inclinations of her heart, and it is
always a precarious proceeding to require from a mistress a verbal
declaration without a previous intercourse with the eyes and their
significant glances. The one favourable sign which still kept his
hopes alive was the imperishable rose, which, though a year had
elapsed, blossomed as freshly now as on the evening when he received it
from the hand of the fair Libussa. A flower from a maiden’s hand, a
nosegay, a ribbon, or a lock of hair, is certainly more valuable than a
tooth dropped out, but nevertheless all these pretty things are but
doubtful pledges of love, unless some more certain expressions gives
them a determined signification. Wladomir, therefore quietly played
the part of a sighing swain in the court of his idol, and waited to see
what time and circumstances might produce in his favour. The
boisterous knight Mizisla, on the other hand, carried on his plan with
far more spirit, and did all he could to make himself conspicuous on
every occasion. On the day of homage he was the first vassal who made
the oath of allegiance to the new princess; he followed her as
inseparably as the moon follows the earth, that by unasked-for services
he might show his devotion to her person, and on solemn occasions and
in processions he made his sword flash in her eyes, that she might not
forget what good service it had done her.
Nevertheless, following the way of the world, Libussa seemed very near
to have forgotten the furtherers of her good fortune; since, when an
obelisk once stands upright, we think no more of the levers and
instruments that raised it--at least so did the candidates for her
heart interpret the lady’s coldness. Both, however, were wrong; the
noble sovereign was neither insensible nor ungrateful; but her heart
was no more so completely in her power, that she could do with it
whatever she pleased. Love had already decided in favour of the slim
hunter. The first impression which the sight of him had made on her
heart was still so strong, that no second one could efface it. Three
years had passed, and the colours of imagination with which the
graceful youth had been sketched, were neither rubbed out, nor had they
become faint, and thus her love was proved to be perfect. For the love
of the fair sex is of such a nature and quality, that if it will stand
the test of three moons, it will generally last three times three, and
longer, according to the evidence and example of our own times. When
the heroic sons of Germany swam over distant seas, to fight out the
domestic squabble of the wilful daughter of Britannia with her mother
country, they tore themselves from the arms of their fair ones, with
mutual protestations of truth and fidelity; but before they had passed
the last buoy of the Weser, the greater part of them were forgotten by
their Chloes. The fickle damsels, tired of having their hearts
unoccupied, filled up the gap with new intrigues; but the faithful
ones, who had had constancy enough to endure the Weser ordeal, and who,
when the owners of their hearts were on the other side of the black
buoy, had been guilty of no infidelity--these, they say, have kept
their vow inviolate, until the return of their heroes into their German
father-land, and now merit from the hands of love the reward of their
constancy.
It was therefore less remarkable, that, under the circumstances, the
Lady Libussa could refuse the hand of the blooming knights who
solicited her heart, than that the fair Queen of Ithaca let a whole
host of suitors sigh after her in vain, while her heart had only the
grey-bearded Ulysses in reserve. Nevertheless, rank and high birth so
very much overbalanced the attachment the lady felt for the beloved of
her heart, that any thing more than a Platonic passion--that empty
shade, which neither warms nor nourishes--was not to be hoped.
Although, in those remote times, people cared as little about writing
out genealogies, according to parchment and pedigree, as they did about
arranging classes of beetles according to their wings and feelers, or
flowers according to their stamens, pistils, calyx, and nectary, they
knew, nevertheless, that the delicious grape alone associates with the
stately elm, and not the weed that creeps along the hedge. A
_mésalliance_ caused by a difference of rank an inch wide, did not
then, certainly, excite so much pedantic noise as in our classic days;
but, however, a difference a yard wide, especially if rivals stood in
the interval, and perceived the distance of the two ends, was
observable enough. All this, and more than this, the lady maturely
weighed in her prudent mind, and therefore she did not give a hearing
to the deceitful prattler, passion, loud as it might speak to the
advantage of the youth, who was favoured by love. As a chaste vestal,
she made an irrevocable vow that she would keep her heart locked up in
virgin secresy for the period of her life, and that she would not
answer any address of her suitors, either with her eyes or with her
gestures; with the reserve, however, that she might platonise as much
as she pleased, by way of compensation. This monastic system pleased
the two aspirants so little, that they did not know what to make of the
killing coldness of their sovereign; jealousy, the companion of love,
whispered into their ear; one thought the other was his rival, and
their spirit of observation was unwearying, in trying to make
discoveries, which both of them dreaded. But the Lady Libussa, with
prudence and acuteness, weighed out her scanty favours to the two
honourable knights with such an equal balance, that neither scale
kicked the beam.
Tired of waiting in vain, both the knights left their princess’s court,
and with secret discontent retired to the estates, which Duke Crocus
had granted them for military service. Both took home such a stock of
ill-humour, that Prince Wladomir was a perfect pest to all his vassals
and neighbours, while Prince Mizisla turned sportsman, chasing deer and
foxes over the fields and enclosures of his subjects, and often
treading three quarters of corn, when with his train he was following a
hare. This occasioned many complaints in the country; but, however,
there was no judge to remedy the evil, for no one likes to contend with
the stronger, and hence this way the oppression of the people never
reached the throne of the duchess. Nevertheless, through her
supernatural power, no act of injustice, within the wide boundaries of
her realm, remained hidden; and because her disposition corresponded to
the tender character of her lovely form, she was afflicted at the
wickedness of her vassals, and the wrongs committed by the strongest.
She consulted with herself as to how the evil could be remedied, and
prudence suggested that she should follow the example of the wise gods,
who, in administering justice, never punish the offender directly the
offence is committed; although slowly stepping vengeance is sure,
sooner or later, to strike at last. The young princess summoned all
the knighthood and states to a general diet, and caused it to be
publicly proclaimed, that whoever had a complaint to make, or a wrong
to denounce, might come forward freely and without fear, and should
have a safe conduct. Then the oppressed and harassed came from all
parts of the country; litigious folks came besides; in fact, all who
had some law affair in hand. Libussa sat on the throne, like the
goddess Themis, with sword and scales, and uttered justice with
unfailing judgment, and without respect of persons, for she was not led
astray, and the labyrinthian courses of chicane did not mislead her, as
they do the thick heads of stupid magistrates, while every body was
surprised at the wisdom with which she unravelled the tangled skein of
law-suits in affairs of meum and teum, and at the unwearied patience
with which she found out, and wound off, the hidden thread of justice,
without pulling a wrong end.
When the throng of parties who had assembled at the bar of the tribunal
had gradually diminished, and the sittings were about to terminate--on
the very last court-day, a settler on the borders of the wealthy
Wladomir’s estate, and a deputation from the subjects of the sporting
Mizisla, desired a hearing, that they might bring in their complaint.
They were admitted, and the settler spoke first. “An industrious
planter,” said he, “enclosed a little piece of ground on the bank of a
broad river, the silver stream of which flowed, gently murmuring, into
the pleasant valley below; for he thought that the fair stream would
protect him on one side from the voracious animals that might devour
his crops, and also water the roots of his fruit-trees, that they might
soon ripen and grow up, and bear fruit plentifully. However, just as
his fruit began to get ripe, the deceitful river became troubled, its
quiet waters began to swell and roar, overwhelmed the bank, tore away
one piece of the fruitful field after another, and made for themselves
a bed in the middle of the cultured soil, to the great sorrow of the
poor planter, who was forced to give up his property, as a sport for
the malice of his powerful neighbour, whose raging flood he himself
escaped with difficulty. Mighty daughter of the wise Crocus, the poor
planter entreats thee to give orders to the haughty stream, that it may
cease to roll its proud waves over the field of the industrious
husbandman, that it may no more thus absorb the sweat of his brow, and
his hopes of a prosperous harvest, but quietly flow within the limits
of its own proper bed.”
During this discourse, a cloud gathered on the serene brow of the fair
Libussa, a manly earnestness shone from her eyes, and those around
became all ear, that they might hear her decision, which was as
follows: “Thy cause is plain and right; no violence shall pervert its
justice. A firm dam shall set a proper limit and measure to the wild
stream, that it may not flow beyond; and I, with its fishes, will make
thee a seven-fold compensation for the depredation of its waters.” She
then made a sign for the eldest of the deputation to speak; and,
turning his head to the court, he said thus: “Wise daughter of the
renowned Crocus, tell us to whom belongs the seed of the field--to the
sower, who has buried it in the earth, that it may spring up and
multiply, or to the hurricane who hurls it down, and scatters it?”--“To
the sower,” she replied. “Then,” said the speaker, “give orders to the
hurricane, that it may not select our fields as the spot for its
wantonness, trample down our grain, and shake our fruit-trees.”--
“So be it,” said the duchess; “I will tame the hurricane, and banish it
from your fields. It shall fight with the clouds, and scatter them,
when they rise from the earth, threatening the land with hail and heavy
storms.”
Prince Wladomir and the knight Mizisla were both present at the general
court. When they heard the complaint that had been made, and heard the
solemn sentence of the princess, they grew pale, and smothering their
wrath fixed their eyes upon the ground, not daring to own to themselves
how much they were galled at being condemned by the sentence from the
mouth of a woman. For although to shield their honour, the
complainants had modestly hung an allegoric veil over their accusation,
and even the just decision of the sovereign judge had shown a prudent
respect for this covering, the web was, notwithstanding, so fine and
transparent, that whoever had eyes could see what stood behind it. As
they did not venture to appeal from the throne of the princess to the
people, the judgment just given against them having caused general
exultation, they could only submit with it, although most unwillingly.
Wladomir made seven-fold reparation to his neighbour the settler, for
the injury that had been done, and Nimrod Mizisla was obliged to pledge
his knightly word that he would not select his subject’s corn fields as
a place for hare-hunting. At the same time Libussa gave them a
glorious employment, that they might exercise their activity, and
restore the tone of knightly virtue to their name, which now sounded
discordantly like a cracked vessel. She placed both at the head of her
army, which she sent out against Zornebock, prince of the Salians, a
giant, and moreover a powerful sorcerer, who was then about making war
against Bohemia, and imposed upon them as a penance, the condition that
they should not return to their court, until one brought the plume and
the other the golden spurs of the monster as a trophy of victory.
The unfading rose still preserved its magic power during this
expedition, rendering Prince Wladomir as invulnerable to mortal
weapons, as Achilles the hero, and as nimble and active as Achilles the
swift-footed. The armies met on the northern border of the territory,
and the signal to fight was given. The Bohemian heroes flew through
the opposing forces like storm and whirlwind, and mowed down the thick
crop of lances, as the reaper’s sickle mows down a field of wheat.
Zornebock fell a victim to their mighty sword-cuts; they returned back
to Vizegrad in triumph with the booty they had acquired, and the spots
and soils which had before tainted their knightly virtue, they had
washed out in the blood of the enemy. The Duchess Libussa rewarded
them with all the distinctions of princely favour, dismissed them, when
the army was disbanded to their own residence, and as a new mark of her
esteem gave them a ruddy apple from her own garden for a keepsake, with
the instructions that they were to share it peaceably without cutting
it. They went their way, placed the apple on a shield, and had it
carried before them, while they consulted together how they should set
about making division with proper discretion, so that they might not be
mistaken in their gentle sovereign’s meaning.
Before they reached the crossway that was to separate them, so that
each might follow the road that led to his own residence, they adhered
to the treaty of partition amicably enough, but now the point was who
should keep the apple, to which they both had equal right. Only one,
it was evident, could retain it, and both promised themselves such
wonders that each longed to possess it. Upon this they quarrelled, and
the sword nearly had to decide to whom the fortune of arms had assigned
the indivisible apple. A shepherd, however, happened to be driving his
flock along the same road, so they chose him for their umpire, and laid
their case before him, probably because the three celebrated goddesses
had applied to a shepherd to settle their affair about an apple. The
man reflected a little, and said,
“In this present of an apple lies a deeply hidden signification; yet
who can probe it but the wise maiden who has there concealed it? I
suspect that the apple is a deceitful fruit, which grew upon the tree
of discord, and the red skin of which signifies bloody contentions
among you, knights,--that one shall irritate the other, and that
neither shall reap any joy from the gift. For tell me how is it
possible to share an apple without dividing it?” The two knights took
to heart the shepherd’s advice, which they thought contained great
wisdom. “Thou art right,” said they, “has not the base apple already
kindled anger and quarrel between us? Were we not on the point of
fighting for the deceptive gift of the proud maiden who hates us both?
Did she not place us at the head of her army, because she thought we
should be killed? And because that method did not succeed, she now
arms us with the knife of discord against each other. We declare
ourselves free from the deceitful gift; neither of us shall bear the
apple, but it shall be the reward of thy honest decision. The fruit of
the law-suit belongs to the judge, and the parings to the contending
parties.”
The knights then went their way, while the shepherd devoured the
subject of the suit with that ease, which is peculiar to judges. The
duchess’s equivocal gift annoyed them greatly, and when on returning
home, they found that they could not lord it over their vassals and
subjects so arbitrarily as before, but were forced to obey the laws,
their indignation increased still more. They entered into an alliance
offensive and defensive, made for themselves a faction in the country,
and the numerous rebels who joined them they despatched to all the
districts around, that they might cry down female government. “Oh,
shame!” cried they, “that we are subject to a woman who gathers our
laurels that she may twine them round her distaff. A man ought to be
master of the house, not a woman,--that is man’s peculiar right,--that
is the custom among all people. What is an army without a duke to
march in front of his warriors, but a helpless trunk without a head?
Let us appoint a prince who may rule over us, and whom we may obey.”
Discourses of this kind did not remain concealed from the vigilant
princess. She knew, besides, whence the wind came, and what the sound
of it signified; and, therefore, she called a select assembly of the
deputies, stepped into the midst of them with the dignity and splendour
of an earthly goddess, while her speech flowed like honey from her
virgin lips. “There is a rumour in the country,” said she to the
assembly, “that you desire a duke, who will lead you to battle, and
that you consider it inglorious to show further obedience to me.
Nevertheless, from your own free and unconfined desire, you chose from
the midst of you, not a man, but one of the daughters of the people,
and clothed her with the purple that she might rule over you according
to the usage and custom of the country. Now, whoever can convict me of
a fault in my government, let him come forward freely and openly and
bear witness against me. If, however, I have administered justice
after the manner of my father Crocus; if I have made the hills
straight, the crooked places even, the abysses passable; if I have
secured your harvests, rescued your herds from the wolf, and guarded
your fruit-trees; if I have bowed the stiff-neck of the violent, aided
the oppressed, and given a staff to support the weak, then, I say, it
becomes you to adhere to your promise, and, according to your oath of
fealty, to be faithful and true to me, and to do me good service. If
you think it inglorious to serve a woman, you should have considered
that before you appointed me to be your princess. If there was any
thing wrong in that choice, it reverts to yourselves. However, this
proceeding on your part shows that you do not understand your own
interest. The female hand is soft and gentle, accustomed to raise only
gentle breezes with the fan; but man’s arm is sinewy and rough, heavy
and oppressive, when he holds the weight of authority. Besides, do you
know, that when a woman rules, the sovereignty is still in the hand of
man? For she gives hearing to wise councillors; but when the distaff
excludes from the throne, there is female government; for the girls,
who please the king’s eyes, have possession of his heart. Reflect
well, then, on what you do, that you may not repent too late of your
fickleness.”