Returning, these bring answer, the third bridegroom,
The Regent, starting forth the hare, had lost
The ring; he sought it in the meadow, and
The Regent’s lady, though herself she hastes,
And though the serving-women her assist,
Cannot by any means her toilette end.
She scarcely will at four o’clock be ready.
Book XII
Let Us Love One Another
The last old-Polish banquet—The Arch-service—Explanation of its figures—Its movements—Dombrowski receives a present—More about the Penknife—Kniaziewicz receives a present—First exercise of authority by Thaddeus on taking possession—Observations by Gervasy—A concert of concerts—The Polonaise—Let us love one another.
At length the doors flew open with loud noise.
The Wojski entered in a cap, with head
Upraised, he nor saluted, nor took place
At table, for the Wojski cometh forth.
In a new semblance; marshal of the court,
He bears a wand in sign of office; with
That wand he points to all a seat, and places
The guests in turn. First, as the highest ruler
Within the district, took the Chamberlain—
Marshal the seat of honour, velvet chair,
With ivory arms! Beside him, on the right,
Sat General Dombrowski, on the left
Were Kniaziewicz, and Pac, and Malachowski;
’Mid them the lady of the Chamberlain.
Then other ladies, officers and lords,
Nobles and country people, men and women,
Alternately, by couples, sit in order,
Where’er the Wojski indicates. The Judge,
Saluting, left the banquet. In the courtyard
He must regale the peasant company.
Behind a table he had gathered them
Two furlongs long; himself sat at one end,
And at the other sat the parish priest.
Thaddeus and Sophia did not sit
At table; busied with the entertaining,
They ate while walking; ’twas an ancient custom,
At the first banquet, that the new possessors
Themselves should serve the people. In the meantime
The guests, while dishes waited in the hall,
On the great centre-piece astonished looked,
Its metal precious as the workmanship.
Tradition says Prince Radziwill the Orphan
Had caused this set in Venice to be made,
And from his own designs to be adorned,
In Polish fashion. Then the centre-piece
Was captured in the Swedish war; it came,
None knew in what way, to a noble house.
To-day, it had been taken from the treasury,
And occupied the middle of the board
With its great circle, as a cart-wheel broad.
The service was o’erlaid, from depth to border,
With froth and sugar snowy-white; it showed
A winter landscape excellently well.
In midst rose black a mighty sweetmeat grove;
Around were houses like to villages,
And nobles’ farmsteads,259 spread with sugar froth
Instead of rime-frost; on the margin stood
Vessels for ornament, small personages,
Fashioned of porcelain, in Polish dresses,
And like to actors on a stage they seemed
Presenting some events; their gesture given
Most artfully, the colours vivid, voice
Alone they wanted, otherwise alive.
“What should these represent?” the guests inquired.
Thereon the Wojski raised his wand on high,
And thus discoursed—meanwhile was wódka given,
Before they ate—“By the permission of
The gracious gentlemen, these personages
That here you countless see, present a history
Of Polish sejmiks, councils, voting, triumphs,
And quarrels. I myself this scene imagined,
And will explain it to you. “Here, to right,
You see a numerous crowd of noblemen
Before the Diet to a banquet asked.
The table waiteth covered; no one seats
The guests; they stand in groups, each group takes counsel.
Look, in the midst of every group there stands
A man, whose opened lips, whose lifted eyes,
Unquiet hands, denote the orator.
Explaining somewhat, with his finger he
Doth emphasise his speaking, with his hand.
He illustrates his meaning. Here are speakers
Who recommend their candidate, with various
Success, as from their brother nobles’ mien
You may perceive. “True, in this second group
The nobles list attentive, this one plants
His hands upon his girdle, lends his ear.
That one his hand holds to his ear, and twirls
In silence his moustache; he probably
Collects the words, and in his memory strings them.
The orator rejoices, for he sees
They are convinced, and stroketh down his pouch.
He has their votes already in his pouch.
“But in the third assembly other things
Are passing. Here the orator must seize
The hearers by their girdles. Look, they wrest
Themselves away, retire their ears. Look how
This hearer swells with rage; he lifts his hands,
Threatens the orator, and stops his mouth,
Hearing, no doubt, the praises of his rival;
This other, stooping like a bull his head,
You’d say to take the speaker on his horns;
Some draw their sabres, some take to their heels.
“One noble silent stands among the groups;
We see he is an independent man.
He hesitates and fears—how shall he vote?
Not knowing, and in conflict with himself,
He asks of fate, he lifts his hand, puts forth
The forefingers, half-shuts his eyes, with nail
Takes aim at nail; this conjuring will confirm
His vote, for if the fingers meet, he gives
A vote affirmative, but if they miss,
He casts a negative. “The left presents
Another scene—a convent dining-hall,
Turned to a hall of meeting of the nobles.
The elders on a bench sit in a row,
The young men stand, and gaze with eagerness
Betwixt the heads towards the centre. Midmost
The Marshal stands; in hand he holds the urn,
He counts the balls, the nobles with their eyes
Devour them, in this instant he has shaken
The last one out; the heralds lift their hands,
Proclaim the elected legislator’s name.
“One nobleman heeds not the general concord.
Look, from the window of the convent kitchen
He thrusts his head; look how his eyes start forth;
How bold he looks, how wide he opes his lips,
As though he would the chamber all devour.
Easy it is to guess this nobleman
Has cried out, “Veto!” Look how, at this sudden
Kindling of quarrel, to the doors the throng
Rush, to the kitchen certainly they go;
They have drawn their sabres, sure a bloody fight
Will now begin. “But in the corridor,
Consider, gentlemen, this ancient priest,
Who wears a cope. This is the prior; he bears
The Host from off the altar; and a boy,
Clad in a surplice, sounds a bell, and craves
Admission; presently the nobles sheathe
Their sabres, cross themselves, and kneel. The priest
Turns to that quarter where the sword yet clashes.
Soon as he comes all peaceful is and still.
“Ah! you, young sirs, cannot remember this,
How ’mid our stormy and free-ruling nobles,
All armed, no need at all was of police;
While faith was flourishing and laws respected,
Then
