Of glory! But in other lands, I hear,
The government maintaineth soldiery,
Police, gendarmes, and constables; but if
The sword alone can guard the public safety,
That in these lands is Freedom I believe not.”
Just then, upon his snuff-box tapping, spoke
The Chamberlain: “Sir Wojski, please to lay
Aside till later on these histories.
Truly the sejmik is most interesting,
But we are hungry. Order that the dishes
Be brought in.” Thereunto the Wojski, lowering
His wand unto the ground: “Illustrious,
Most Powerful Chamberlain, allow me pray
This favour. I will end at once the last
Scene of these diets. Here is the new Marshal,
Borne by his partisans from the refect’ry.
Look how the brother nobles throw their caps
Aloft, they ope their lips to cry, ‘Long live!’
But there, upon the other side, the noble
Outvoted, lonely, on his moody brow
Has pressed his cap. His wife before the house
Awaits him; she has guessed what late occurred.
Poor woman! in her servant’s arms she faints!
Poor woman! for she thought to have the title,
Illustrious, Most Powerful; but again
For three years she is only a Most Powerful.”
The Wojski ended his description here,
And gave a signal with his wand. And soon
With dishes lackeys entered, two and two;
The soups, the barszcz,260 called royal, and the rosol261
Of ancient Poland, artfully prepared;
Thereto the Wojski had with wondrous secrets
Cast in some small pearls, and a piece of money.
Such rosol purifies the blood, and health
Doth fortify. Then followed other dishes;—
But who shall tell their names? who understand
These, in our times already quite unknown?—
Those fishes, salmon from the Danube, dried,
Venetian and Turkish caviar,
Soles, carp, and mackerel, pike and “noble carp.”
At last a mystery of cookery,
A fish uncut, fried slightly at the head,
And roasted in the centre, at the tail
Some preparation made with sauce. The guests
Nor asked the names of all these dishes, nor
That wondrous secret stayed them; quick they ate
All things with soldiers’ appetite, and filled
Their goblets up with wine of Hungary.
But in the meantime the great service262 changed
Its colour; bare of snow, it now looked green.
For that light sugary froth, now gradually
Warmed by the summer’s heat, had melted, and
The under side discovered, hitherto
Concealed from the eye; and so the landscape
Presented a new season of the year.
It shone with green and many-coloured spring;
There came forth various grains, as on the ways
They grow; the saffron wheat luxuriant,
With golden ears, the rye with silver leaves,
And buckwheat, formed by art, of chocolate,
And pear and apple orchards blossoming.
The guests have scarcely time to enjoy the gifts
Of summer; vainly they entreat the Wojski
But to prolong them, for the service now
Like to the planet, in its destined orbit,
Changes its season; now the painted grains,
Golden, have gathered warmth within the room,
And gradually melt, the grass turns yellow,
The leaves turn red, and fall; thou wouldst have said
An autumn wind was blowing; at the last
Those trees, late well-adorned, appearing stripped
By storm-winds and by hoar frost, naked stand.
They were but twigs of cinnamon, or branches
Of bay twigs, counterfeiting pine-trees, dressed
With needles, that were seeds of carraway.
The guests, while drinking, stript the branches off
The stems and bark, and ate them with their wine.
The Wojski viewed his service all around,
And full of joy triumphant glances turned
Upon the guests. Henry Dombrowski showed
Immense astonishment, and said, “Sir Wojski,
Were those Chinean shadows? has Pineti
Given you his devils to your service?263 are
Such services in general use in Litva?
Do all hold banquets with such ancient customs?
Pray tell me; I have spent my life abroad.”
The Wojski answered, bowing: “No, Illustrious,
Most Powerful General, no godless art
Is this. ’Tis but a memory of those feasts,
Renowned in lordly houses of old times,
When Poland happiness and power enjoyed.
What I have done I gathered from this book.
Thou askest, whether everywhere in Litva
This custom is preserved. Alas! new fashions
Among us even have crept in. Not one
Young lord cries out, he suffers no excess;
So like a Jew he stints his guests in meat,
And drink; will grudge Hungarian wine, and drink
Satanic, falsified, and modern wines
Of Muscovy, Champagne; then in the evening
Loses at cards full gold enough to give
A banquet to a hundred brother nobles.
Why, even—for what is in my heart to-day
I’ll truly speak, let but the Chamberlain
Not take this ill of me—when I drew out
This wondrous service from the treasury,
Why, even the Chamberlain did laugh at me,
And said it was a wearisome machine,
An old-world thing, it seemed a toy for children,
Unsuitable to such illustrious men.
The Judge! the Judge said, it would tire the guests.
And ne’ertheless, from that astonishment
I caused you, gentlemen, I well perceive
That this fine art was worthy to be seen.
I know not if another such occasion
Will come to entertain in Soplicowo
Such dignitaries. I see, General,
You knowledge have of banquets. Pray accept
This book. It will be useful to you when
You give a banquet to a company
Of foreign monarchs, bah! ev’n to Napoleon!
But let me, ere I consecrate this book
To you, relate the chance whereby it fell
Into my hands.” This instant rose a murmur
Outside the door, together many voices
Cried, “Long live Weathercock!” Into the hall
A crowd did press, with Matthew at their head.
The Judge his guest conducted to the board,
And placed him high among the generals,
And said, “Sir Matthew, you are no good neighbour,
You have arrived too late, when dinner is
Nigh over.”—“I am early,” said Dobrzynski.
“I came not here for eating, but because
I had the curiosity to view
Our national army nearer. There is much
To talk of, but ’tis neither here nor there.
The nobles saw and dragged me here by force,
And you have seated me at table. Thanks,
My neighbour.” Having said this, upside down
He turned his plate, as sign he would not eat,
And kept a gloomy silence. “Friend Dobrzynski,”
Said to him General Dombrowski, “you
Are that renowned swordsman of Kosciuszko,
That Matthew called the Rod. I know you from
Your fame. But, prithee, how art thou preserved
So vigorous, so active? what long years
Have passed away. Look, I am growing old,
Look, even Kniaziewicz is somewhat grey,
But thou might’st hold
