prevailed in the hall of assembly, and no one ventured to utter a word
against her. Nevertheless Prince Wladomir and his party did not
abandon their project, but whispered among themselves: “The cunning
chamois is striving not to leave the rich pasture; but the hunter’s
horn shall sound still louder, and scare it away.” The next day they
stirred up the body of knights, loudly to request the queen to choose a
husband within three days, and by the choice of her heart to give the
people a prince, who should share the government with her. At this
sudden demand, which seemed to be the voice of the people, a virgin
blush tinged the cheeks of the charming Libussa, and her bright eye saw
all the rocks beneath the water, that threatened her on this occasion.
Even if, according to the custom of the great world, she attempted to
bring her inclinations under the sway of policy, she could, at any
rate, only give her hand to one suitor, and then she saw that all the
rest would regard their rejection as an insult and meditate revenge.
Besides the secret vow of her heart was to her sacred and inviolable,
and therefore she prudently endeavoured to avoid the pressing request
of the deputies, and to make one attempt more to dissuade them
altogether from having a duke. “After the death of the eagle,” she
said, “the feathered tribe chose the wood-pigeon for their queen, and
all the birds were obedient to her soft cooing voice. Yet, being light
and airy, as is the nature of birds, they soon altered this resolution,
and began to repent. The haughty peacock thought that he was more
qualified to rule; the greedy hawk accustomed to chase the small birds
considered it disgraceful to be subject to a dove. They therefore made
for themselves a faction, and appointed the purblind owl as their
spokesman to propose a new election for a king. The dull bustard, the
unwieldy mountain-cock, the lazy stork, the lack-brain heron, and all
the larger birds chattered and cackled loud applause, and the host of
little birds from foolishness twittered, in the same manner, from hedge
and bush. Then the warlike kite rose boldly into the air, and all the
birds cried out, ‘What a majestic flight! What a lightning glance in
those rolling eyes of fire, what an expression of superiority in the
hooked beak, and the widely-grasping claws! The bold, hardy kite shall
be our ruler.’ Scarcely had the bird of prey ascended the throne, than
he displayed his activity and strength to his fellow-subjects with
great tyranny and arrogance. From the larger birds he plucked their
feathers, and the little singing birds he tore to pieces.”
Plain as the meaning of this discourse was, it made but little
impression on the minds of those who were anxious for a change of
government, and the popular decision that the Lady Libussa should
choose a husband within three days, remained valid. At this Prince
Wladomir much rejoiced in his heart, for he now thought he should gain
the lovely prize for which he had so long striven in vain. Love and
ambition fired his wishes, and made eloquent his mouth, which had
hitherto only allowed itself secret sighs. He went to the court and
solicited a hearing of the duchess. “Gracious sovereign of thy people
and of my heart,” he said, “from thee no secret is concealed, thou
knowest the flames that glow in this bosom, as purely and holily as
those upon the altar of the gods, and thou knowest the celestial fire
that has kindled them. The time is at hand when thou must give a
prince to the land, at the bidding of thy people. Can’st thou slight a
heart which only lives and beats for thee? To be worthy of thee I have
ventured my life and blood in raising thee to the throne of thy father.
Let me have the merit of maintaining thee there by the tie of tender
love; let us share the possession of the throne and of thy heart. The
former shall be thine, the latter mine, and then will my happiness be
exalted above the lot of mortals.” The Lady Libussa deported herself
in a very maiden-like manner on hearing this address, and covered her
face with a veil that she might conceal the gentle blush that gave a
deeper colour to her cheek. With her hand she made a sign for Prince
Wladomir to withdraw, without opening her mouth, as if to consider how
she should answer him with respect to his suit.
The bold knight Mizisla then announced himself and desired to be
admitted. “Loveliest of the daughters of princes,” he said, as he
entered the audience-chamber, “the beautiful dove, the queen of the
realms of air shall, as thou knowest, no more coo alone, but seek for
herself a mate. The proud peacock, as the story goes, makes his varied
feathers glitter in her eyes, and imagines that he will dazzle her with
their brilliancy, but she is modest and wise, and will not unite
herself to the haughty peacock. The greedy hawk, once a bird of prey,
has quite cast off his nature; he is good and gentle, nay without
guile, for he loves the fair dove, and hopes that she will espouse him.
His crooked beak and sharp claws should not mislead thee. These he
needs to protect his beloved dove, that no other bird may injure her or
endeavour to overthrow the seat of her dominion, for he is faithful and
true, and first vowed fealty to her on the day of her elevation. Tell
me then, wise princess, if the gentle dove will deign to bestow on her
faithful hawk the love to which he aspires?”
The Lady Libussa did as before, made a sign for the knight also to
retire, and after she had let him wait awhile called in the two suitors
and said, “I owe you a debt of gratitude, noble knights, inasmuch as
you both assisted me in succeeding to the Bohemian crown, which my
father Crocus wore with glory. And I have not forgotten that zeal in
my cause, of which you remind me. Moreover, it is not hidden from me
that you virtuously love me, for your looks and actions have long
expressed the feelings of your hearts. That my heart has remained
closed to you, and has not given love for love, do not ascribe that to
mere coyness; I did not mean to insult you, but merely to come to a
right decision of a dubious matter. I weighed your merits, and the
index of the balance stood still. Therefore I resolved to leave the
decision of your fate to yourselves, and offered you the possession of
my heart by the enigmatical apple, that I might see who had the
greatest share of wisdom and intelligence, so as to appropriate to
himself the indivisible gift. Now tell me, without delay, in whose
hand is the apple. Whoever has gained it from the other, let him from
this hour take my throne and my heart for his prize.” The two suitors
looked upon each other with wonder, grew pale and were dumb. At last
Prince Wladomir after a long pause broke silence and said, “The enigmas
of the wise are to the foolish, a nut in a toothless mouth; a pearl
which the fowl rakes out of the sand, a light in the hand of the blind.
Therefore, oh, princess! be not angry that we knew neither how to use
nor how to prize thy gift. Thy design, which we did not know we
misinterpreted, and we thought thou hadst cast between us an apple of
discord, which should incite us to feuds and combat, and therefore each
of us abandoned participation in thy gift, and got rid of the fruit of
contention, a sole possession of which neither of us would have left to
the other.”
“You have yourself uttered the judgment,” said the lady; “if an apple
was enough to arouse your jealousy, what battle would you have waged
for a myrtle wreath that encircles a crown.” With this decision she
dismissed the knights, who were greatly annoyed that they had listened
to the senseless arbitrator, and had thoughtlessly flung away the
pledge of love, that was to have gained them the bride. They now
considered, each one by himself, how they might yet carry out their
plans, and by force or cunning obtain the Bohemian throne with its
charming possessor.
The Lady Libussa was not inactive during the three days that were left
her for deliberation, but was constantly considering how she might meet
the pressing wishes of her people, give the nation a duke, and herself
a husband, according to the choice of her heart. She feared that
Prince Wladomir would urge his pretensions with force, or at any rate
deprive her of the throne. Necessity assisted love, and inspired her
with the resolution of carrying out the plan, with which, as with a
pleasant dream, she had often amused herself; for, indeed, what mortal
is there, whose head is not haunted by some phantom or other, at which
he grasps in a vacant hour, that he may play with it as with a doll?
The gift of prophecy has always been associated with a glowing fancy;
consequently the fair Libussa readily listened at times to this
pleasant playmate, and the agreeable confidant always entertained her
with the image of the young hunter, who had made so permanent an
impression on her heart. A thousand projects came into her head, which
her imagination flattered her were easy and practicable. Now she had a
plan of rescuing the dear youth from obscurity, placing him in the
army, and advancing him from one post of honour to another; fancy would
then at once fling a wreath of laurel on his brow, and lead him crowned
with victory and glory to the throne, which she shared with him,
delighted. Now she gave the romance another turn; she armed her
favourite as a knight-errant out upon adventures, conducted him to her
court, turned him into a Huon of Bordeaux, and was in no want of
wonderful apparatus to endow him as friend Oberon did his protégé. But
when cool reflection again took possession of her maiden mind, and the
variegated figures of the magic lantern grew pale at the bright ray of
prudence, the lovely dream had vanished. She thought how great would
be the risk of such a proceeding, and what mischief might befal her
land and people, if jealousy and envy incited against her the hearts of
the Magnates, and the alarm of discord give the signal for rebellion.
She therefore carefully concealed the inclinations and wishes of her
heart from the keen eye of the observer, and allowed nothing to be
perceived.
However, now the people were desirous for a prince, the affair had
taken another turn, and she had only to make her own wishes accord with
those of the nation. She fortified her courage with manly resolution,
and when the third day dawned she put on all her jewels, placing on her
head the chaste crown of myrtle. Attended by her maidens, who were all
adorned with wreaths of flowers, she ascended the throne full of high
courage and gentle dignity. The assembly of knights and vassals around
her was all ear, that it might catch from her lovely mouth the name of
the fortunate prince with whom she had resolved to share her heart and
throne. “Nobles of my people,” said she to the assembly, “the lot of
your destiny still lies untouched in the urn of concealment, and you
are still as free as my horses that feed in the meadow, before bridle
and bit have curbed them, and the weight of the rider and the burden of
the saddle have pressed their slender back. It now behoves you to tell
me, whether the time which you have granted me for the choice of a
husband has cooled the warm desire of seeing a prince ruling over you,
and prompted you quietly to examine your project, or whether you still
adhere unchangeably to your intention.” For a moment she was silent,
but the tumult among the people, the noise and whispering together with
the gestures of the assembled senators, did not leave her long in
uncertainty, and the speaker confirmed the ultimatum, that the decision
was left to the choice of her heart. “Well!” she said, “the lot is
cast; I answer for nothing. The gods have selected for the kingdom of
Bohemia a prince who will wield his sceptre with wisdom and justice.
The young cedar tree does not raise its head above the strong oaks;
concealed among the trees of the forest it grows, surrounded by ignoble
brushwood, but soon it will extend its branches so as to shade the
root, and its crown will touch the clouds. Nobles of the people,
select from among you a deputation of twelve honest men, to seek the
prince and accompany him to the throne. My horse shall show them the
path, trotting before you free and unburdened; and as a sign that you
have found that which you are sent out to seek, observe that the man
whom the gods have selected for your prince, will at the time when you
approach him, be taking his meal at an iron table, beneath the open
sky, and in the shadow of a lonely tree. To him must you pay homage,
and adorn him with the signs of princely dignity. The white horse will
allow him to mount his back, and bring him here to court that he may be
my husband and your sovereign.”
She then dismissed the assembly with the cheerful, but bashful mien,
which is customary with brides when they expect the arrival of the
bridegroom. All were astonished at her speech, and the prophetic
spirit which peered from it rushed upon their minds like an utterance
of the gods, to which the mob blindly attaches belief, and about which
none but thinkers indulge in sapient opinions. The deputation was
appointed, and the white horse stood in readiness, bridled and adorned
with Asiatic magnificence, as if it was to bear the Grand Seignior to
the mosque. The cavalcade was soon in motion, amid the concourse of
curious people, who were shouting with joy, and the white horse proudly
led the way. Soon, however, the train disappeared from the eyes of the
spectators, and nothing was to be seen but a cloud of dust rising in
the distance, for the spirited horse as soon as he came into the open
country began to run as swiftly as a British racer, indeed so swiftly,
that the deputation had a difficulty in following him. Although the
rapid courser seemed left entirely to himself, an invisible power
directed his course, guided his bridle, and spurred his sides. The
Lady Libussa by the magic she had inherited from her mother, had been
able so to train the horse that he neither deviated to the right or the
left of his path, but with great speed hurried at once to his
destination, and now when all seemed arranged so as to fulfil her
wishes, she awaited with tender longing the arrival of the comer.
The deputies in the meanwhile had had a fine chase; they had already
performed a journey of several miles, uphill and downhill, they had
swam through the Moldau and the Elbe, and because their stomachs
reminded them of meal-time, they thought again of the wondrous table,
at which their new prince, according to the words of the lady, was to
be seated. On this subject they made all sorts of remarks and
comments. One inconsiderate knight said to his fellows: “Methinks our
lady duchess has sent us to make April fools of us, for who ever heard
of a man in Bohemia that dined at an iron table. What do you lay that
our rash undertaking will bring us any thing besides jeering and
mockery?” But another, who was more intelligent, thought that the iron
table might have a symbolical meaning, and that they would perhaps meet
with some knight-errant reposing under a tree, after the fashion of the
wandering brotherhood, and serving up his frugal meal on his brazen
shield. A third said jestingly:
“I fear that our way will take us straight down to the workshop of the
Cyclops, and that we shall have to take back to our Venus the lame
Vulcan or one of his mates, who makes a table of his anvil.”
Discussing in this fashion they saw their leader, the white horse,
which had considerably the start of them, trot across a newly ploughed
field, and, to their surprise, stop by a ploughman. They flew at once
to the spot, and found a peasant sitting on a plough, which had been
turned upside down, beneath the shade of a wild pear tree, and eating
his black bread from an iron ploughshare, which he used as a table. He
seemed pleased with the beautiful horse, treated him kindly, and
offered him a bit of his meal, and which he eat out of his hand. The
ambassadors were very much astonished at this sight, but nevertheless
none of them doubted that they had found their man. They approached
him with reverence, and the eldest taking up the discourse said:
“The Duchess of Bohemia has sent us to thee, and bids us announce to
thee that it is the will and decree of the gods that thou shalt
exchange that plough for the throne of this territory, and that goad
for the sceptre. She chooses thee for her husband, that with her thou
mayst rule over Bohemia.”
The young peasant thought they were making game of him, which seemed to
him very _mal-à-propos_, especially as he thought they had fathomed the
secret of his heart, and were come to scoff at his weakness. He,
therefore, answered somewhat haughtily, in order to return scorn for
scorn:
“Let us see whether your duchy is worthy of this plough? If the prince
cannot satisfy his hunger, drink more merrily, nor sleep more soundly
than the peasant, it is certainly not worth the trouble to change this
fruitful field for the land of Bohemia, or this smooth ox-goad for a
sceptre;--for tell me, will not a salt-cellar as well season my morsel
as a bushel?”
Upon this one of the twelve remarked: “The mole shunning the light,
grovels for the worms under ground, that he may support himself, for he
has not eyes that can endure the beam of day, nor feet that are made to
run like those of the swift roe; the scaly crab crawls in the mud of
the lakes and marshes, loves best to dwell among the roots of the trees
and brushwood on the river side, for he lacks fins to swim; and the
domestic cock, kept in the poultry-yard, does not venture to fly over
the low wall, for he is too timid to trust himself to his wings, like
the up-soaring kite. Now if eyes are given for seeing, feet for
walking, fins for swimming, and wings for flying, thou wilt not grovel
in the earth like a mole, hide in the marsh like an unwieldy crab, or,
like the lord of poultry, be content to crow on a dunghill, but thou
wilt come forward into the light of day, run, swim, or fly to the
clouds, accordingly as nature has endowed thee with her gifts. For an
active man is not content with being what he is, but strives to become
what he can be. Therefore try to be that which the gods have appointed
thee, and then thou wilt be able to judge whether or not the land of
Bohemia is worth a field in exchange.”
This serious discourse of the delegate, in which nothing of a jesting
nature was to be perceived, and still more the insignia of princely
dignity--the purple raiment, the staff of government, and the golden
sword, which the ambassadors produced as vouchers and testimonials of
their true mission--at last overcame the mistrust of the doubting
ploughman. At once his soul became enlightened; and the transporting
thought was awakened in him, that the Lady Libussa had divined the
feelings of his heart, had perceived his constancy and fidelity, by the
aid of her faculty to discover what was hidden, and had determined to
reward them in a manner which he would never have hoped for even in a
dream. The gift of prophecy promised to him by his oracle came again
into his mind, and he reflected that this promise must be accomplished
now or never. He quickly seized his hazel staff, set it deep in the
field, heaped loose earth about it, as one does when one plants trees,
and behold, the staff was immediately decked with buds, and shot forth
sprouts and branches covered with leaves and flowers. Two of the
verdant boughs faded, and their dry foliage became a sport for the
winds, but the third grew with so much the greater strength, and its
fruits ripened. The spirit of prophecy then descended on the rapt
ploughman, and, opening his lips, he spoke thus:
“Messengers of the Princess Libussa and of the Bohemian people, hear
the words of Premislas, the son of Mnatha, the honourable knight, to
whom, touched by the spirit of prophecy, the clouds of the future are
opened. You call upon the man who was guiding his plough to take the
management of your principality before his daily work is finished. Ah,
would that the plough had surrounded the field with its furrows as far
as the boundary stone, for then Bohemia would have been an independent
land for ever! Now that you have too soon disturbed the work of the
ploughman, the boundaries of your land will be the portion and
inheritance of a neighbour, and your remote posterity will cleave to
him in indissoluble union. The three branches of the verdant staff
promise your princess three sons. Two of them will fade away as
immature shoots, but the third will inherit the throne, and through him
will the fruit of later descendants be ripened, until the eagle shall
fly over the mountains and nestle in the land, and then fly away to
return as unto his own possession. If then the son of the gods[2]
shall come forth, who is a friend to the ploughman, and frees him from
his slavish chains--then mark him, posterity, for thou wilt have cause
to bless thy fate. He, when he has trodden under foot the serpent of
superstition, will stretch out his hand towards the increasing moon to
pluck it from the heavens, that he himself may illumine the world as a
beneficent star.”
The venerable deputation stood in silent reverence, staring at the
prophet like so many dunces; it seemed as though a god was speaking in
him. But he turned away from the deputies to the companions of his
wearisome toil--the two white oxen, loosened them from the yoke, and
set them at liberty, upon which they bounded merrily about the grassy
field, then visibly faded away, as light clouds melt into air, and
finally vanished completely. Premislas now took off his rustic wooden
shoes, and went to wash himself in the neighbouring brook. Costly
garments were put on him, he girded himself with the sword in knightly
fashion, and had the golden spurs fastened. He then sprang upon the
white horse which allowed him to mount with docility. As he was just
on the point of quitting the estate he had hitherto possessed, he told
the deputies to carry after him the wooden shoes, which he had now put
off, and preserve them as a testimony that the humblest of the people
had once been raised to the highest rank in Bohemia, and as a _memento_
that he and his posterity might not presume upon the rank he had
acquired, but, mindful of their origin, might honour and protect the
peasant class from which they had sprung. Hence arose the old custom
of exhibiting to the kings of Bohemia a pair of shoes on the day of
their coronation--a custom which was observed until the race of
Premislas became extinct. The hazel itself, which had been planted,
grew and bore fruit, spreading its roots widely around, and sending
forth new shoots until at last the whole field was turned into a wood
of hazel trees, which proved most advantageous to the neighbouring
village in whose land this district was included. For, in
commemoration of this wonderful planting, the kings of Bohemia granted
a charter to this community, that they should never be obliged to
contribute more in the way of taxes than one pint of hazel-nuts. This
important privilege, according to report, their descendants enjoy to
the present day.
Although the horse, which now bore the bridegroom to his fair owner,
seemed to outstrip the winds, Premislas made him sometimes feel the
golden spurs to accelerate him still more. The speed of the courser,
swift as it was, did not appear to him more so than the pace of a
tortoise, so anxious was he to look once more on the face of the fair
Libussa, whose form, though seven years had elapsed, still floated
before him fresh and charming. He now looked forward, not to gaze
vainly upon her, as upon a rare anemone in the varied garden of a
florist, but to a happy union of victorious love. He thought only of
the myrtle crown, which, in the estimation of lovers, stands far above
the crown of kings, and if he had weighed dignity and love one against
the other, the land of Bohemia without the Lady Libussa would have
kicked the beam like a clipped ducat in a money-changer’s balance.