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[Illustration]
FROM A TERRACE
IN PRAGUE
BY
LIEUT.-COL. B. GRANVILLE BAKER,
D.S.O., F.R.G.S.
WITH 36 ILLUSTRATIONS AND ONE MAP
NEW YORK
BRENTANO'S
PUBLISHERS
(_All rights reserved_)
_Printed in Great Britain by_
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, LONDON AND WOKING
THIS BOOK
IS DEDICATED TO
A WISE AND GENTLE LADY WHO
LOOKS OUT UPON LIFE
FROM A TERRACE
PREFACE
There are many excuses for the writing of books, and sometimes there may
even be sufficient reason. I offer no excuses, but will give what
reasons I have for committing to paper these my reflections or
meditations inspired by the sight of a fine old capital city as seen
from a Terrace in Prague.
The first reason I wish to give may be altruistic, namely, that finding
so many of my race quite ignorant of Prague and all that city stands for
right down the ages, I feel compelled to add my mite to what has already
been written about the subject.
My second reason, a strong one with me, arises out of my inability to
enjoy things of beauty and interest without letting my friends know
about them. This may be a weak and selfish reason, but there it is.
The third reason rests on my intense desire that you should come out
here, to Prague, even to the terrace of my choice, and look at the scene
through my eyes while I would endeavour to see it through yours. This, I
admit, is undiluted selfishness on my part.
While awaiting you, I am preparing, by means of this work, to introduce
you to a goodly throng of those who know or knew this city and loved it
well. Perhaps they may admit me to their round table as the last to
arrive, and the least. In any case, I owe them a debt of gratitude for
their help in becoming acquainted with Prague and the deeper meaning of
this glorious city. There are many such kindly helpers: there was Cosmas
Pragensis the chronicler, Palacky the historian, there was Count Luetzow,
whose works on Prague, as on his native country, are inspired by intense
love of them, and illumined by transparent honesty. There are others
still among us and doing useful work. A walk with Dr. Je[vr]abek in the
gardens of Waldstein's palace, a talk with Professor [vS]kola, and many
other good friends of mine in Prague, have made a pleasure of this work
I have undertaken. Out of sheer joy in the things I have seen and heard,
and the kindly spirit that informed those who helped me, have I written
and illustrated this book _From a Terrace in Prague_.
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|Transcriber's note: |
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|In this text the caron has been represented with |
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|[vx] [vX] etc. |
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CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE 7
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCES PRAGUE 14
CHAPTER II
ABOUT GUIDES AND GUIDE BOOKS AND THE WEATHER OF PRAGUE 32
CHAPTER III
VY[vS]EHRAD, LIBU[vS]A AND P[vR]EMYSL, AND OTHER EARLY NOTABLES OF
PRAGUE, AMONG THEM ST. WENCESLAUS 50
CHAPTER IV
MORE ABOUT ST. WENCESLAUS AND HIS IMMEDIATE SUCCESSORS 70
CHAPTER V
GOOD AND BAD RULERS OF BOHEMIA UP TO A CONTEMPORARY OF FREDERICK
BARBAROSSA. STRAHOV MONASTERY 88
CHAPTER VI
FIVE KINGS OF THE HOUSE OF P[vR]EMYSL, INTRODUCES THE FIRST HABSBURG
TO VISIT BOHEMIA 106
CHAPTER VII
BLIND KING JOHN OF BOHEMIA 130
CHAPTER VIII
CHARLES IV KING OF BOHEMIA, OF THE GERMANS, AND ROMAN EMPEROR.
[vZ]I[vS]KA AND HIS HUSSITES. ABOUT SOME CHURCHES IN PRAGUE 148
CHAPTER IX
CHARLES AND HIS BRIDGE. HIS SON WENCESLAUS. JOHN NEPOMUK
AND JOHN HUS 166
CHAPTER X
A HOUSING PROBLEM. ANCIENT AND MODERN PRAGUE 192
CHAPTER XI
SIGISMUND AND OTHER HABSBURGS. GEORGE PODIEBRAD, ALSO THE
"WINTER KING" 216
CHAPTER XII
JESUITS AND THEIR WORK. SOME HISTORIC FIGURES AND SOME BRITONS
WHO CAME TO PRAGUE. EPILOGUE 234
INDEX 257
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FULL-PAGE COLOURED
THE CITY OF PRAGUE _Frontispiece_
PAGE
THE "CHARLES BRIDGE" AND "HRAD[vS]ANY" 60
THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. VITUS 154
THE "POWDER TOWER" 220
LINE DRAWINGS
INITIAL LETTER (ARMS OF CZECHO-SLOVAKIA) 15
MAP 17
INITIAL LETTER (A TOWER OF KARLOV TYN) 33
INITIAL LETTER (A SENTRY) 51
THE HRAD[vS]ANY FROM THE FUeRSTENBURG GARDEN 61
INITIAL LETTER (VY[vS]EHRAD) 71
OLD BOLESLAV 81
INITIAL LETTER (QUEEN JUDITH'S BRIDGE-HEAD) 89
ST. MARTIN'S, VY[vS]EHRAD 95
STRAHOV MONASTERY 102
INITIAL LETTER 107
A RELIC OF THE GHETTO 115
A TOWER OF THE HRAD[vS]ANY 123
INITIAL LETTER 131
INITIAL LETTER (KARLOV) 149
ST. STEPHEN'S 160
INITIAL LETTER 167
VENICE IN PRAGUE 169
TOWER OF NEW TOWN HALL 174
RIVER SCENE 188
"BE THOU LIKE A PROMONTORY" 189
RIVER SCENE 190
INITIAL LETTER 193
ON THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 200
THE CHAPEL OF THE TOWN HALL 201
THE TOWERS OF OUR LADY OF TYN 205
A CORNER OF THE OLD TOWN 207
INITIAL LETTER 217
THE HRAD[vS]ANY FROM THE NEBOZIZEK GARDEN 225
INITIAL LETTER 235
A CORNER OF K[vR]IVOKLAT CASTLE 250
TABOR, BY THE WATERS OF JORDAN 252
CHAPTER I
Refers in a general way to several great and historic cities of this
earth. Indicates the routes by which Prague may be reached by the
traveller from the West, tells a wayside story or two and mentions
several very great people, also others of a less degree. Digresses
seriously from the purpose of the whole book by raking up the author's
personal recollections of people that lived and events that happened
right away back in the last century, and far away in the East.
The author then formally introduces a friend, the ancient and venerable
City of Prague.
The Psalmist once declared in a burst of enthusiasm, no doubt justified,
that "Jerusalem is a city that is at unity in itself." This remark
applies with equal right to other great historic cities, as who can deny
it that has stood in the "Place de l'Opera" and felt that Paris is
indeed at unity in itself?... Or who that has looked upon Constantinople
rising out of the pearly depths of the Sea of Marmora will fail to
realize that the city of Constantine, despite its many vicissitudes, was
indeed a united whole fulfilling its sometime tragic destiny in the
history of mankind?
Lisbon, mirrored in the broad waters of the Tagus, is another such city,
and so, in yet more marked degree, is Prague. The Psalmist, in poetic
exuberance, may appear to have overstated the case, allowance must be
made for him, but in the main he was right. The city of Zion had grown
up at the feet of the temple of David, and its massive strength
impressed the poet who overlooked the bickerings, the quarrels, of the
"dwellers therein"; he knew his city was the centre of his race, for
"thither the tribes go up," and he took in only the big enduring things;
he held the key to the soul of the city.
Let us, then, approach the city of Prague in the right manner, prepared
to enter into the spirit of the place, to realize what it stands for,
what it has always stood for since those dim days when legend and
history entwined.
It is said that "all roads lead to Rome"; as many lead to Prague, as a
glance at the map will show. There are first of all those oldest of
roads--the waterways--along which moved wandering tribes in quest of
betterment and adventure. Two of these waterways meet just above Prague,
the Vltava and Berounka; they open out from the wooded heights of the
Bohemian Forest, the former river leading up towards a pass in those
heights over which you descend to the Danube near Linz, the latter
showing the way into the heart of Bohemia from the west from Bavaria. It
was by the latter route probably that the Boievari, a Celtic tribe, made
their way after a short stay in Bohemia, to settle in the land that is
called after them, Bavaria.
Bavarians, who had become thoroughly Germanized, and many other Teutons,
frequently found their way into Bohemia by this route, notably in the
fifteenth century, when a vast unwieldy army called up by Rome and led
by an English Cardinal, tried conclusions with a nation in arms inspired
by religious fervour and led by [vZ]i[vs]ka the Hussite, and was beaten
ignominiously.
All along this route are landmarks of a history which tells of the
attraction that Prague exercised on the rulers and people of
neighbouring countries.
[Illustration: MAP]
So Eger and Pilsen tell of the horrors of the War of Thirty Years, for
which a Bohemian nobleman was largely responsible. Of him and his doings
more hereafter. Eger, by the way is now called Cheb, a guttural _Ch_
which is a difficult sound to begin a word with, but you have got to
do it if you wish to be considered up to date. The Czech language is
difficult to pronounce, a fact of which the Czechs seem rather proud.
Pilsen, which is known to us chiefly (and rightly) for its good beer, is
now spelt Plzen; this, however, makes little difference to the
pronunciation, and happily none at all to the quality of the beer. The
Czechs are just a bit sparing of vowels; they prefer a good fat cluster
of consonants, as, for instance, in Vltava, Brno, and other such pretty
names, but then you simply insert an indefinite sound here and there
between the spiky consonants, and all is well; anyone who knows
Hindustani or Arabic will find it quite easy. After all, if the Czechs
prefer their language that way it is their concern, as long as they do
not expect the world outside Bohemia to learn it.
Another fine broad road leading to Prague is the Elbe, into which flows
the Vltava, some thirty miles north of the capital. No doubt the Elbe
was the road by which the Slavonic tribes poured into present-day
Germany what time all Central Europe was swarming with migrant peoples
moving westward under pressure from the East.
That a great part of Germany as we know it now was formerly inhabited by
Slavs seems beyond doubt; such names as Berlin, Stettin, Strelitz,
Rostock, have a distinct Slavonic ring.
Remains of primitive Slavonic culture have been dug up on the islands in
the Baltic Sea and even as far west as Hanover; remains of an identical
culture have been found as far east as the Volga, so the Slavs have been
widely spread out over Europe in earliest days. The expansion of Slavs
so far to westward may have been due to the fact that Wittekind, King of
the Saxons, called Slavonic tribes to his aid against the Franks.
Charlemagne and his Franks must have been rather a nuisance to their
neighbours. Charles had a mission in life, and people thus afflicted are
apt to be tiresome. We are taught to number him among the truly great
and good men, but he lived and laboured long ago; moreover, we are not
a cheery lot of heathen living happy and unwashed in the depths of
primeval forests, so our judgment is warped. As to Charles's goodness, I
heard some story about his offering to marry an Empress of the East
while his first wife was still alive, not, it appears, from any ardent
devotion to the lady--I do not believe he ever met her--but simply from
the sordid motive of adding another empire to his business. However, I
am no scandal-monger, and all the parties concerned have been dead some
time.
Charles must have been rather a prig. He was evidently, immensely
pleased with his own little bit of book-learning; he even insisted on
talking and writing Latin--pure "swank"--whereas his family would surely
have preferred their native Frankish. Worse still, Charles had an
obsession, that of a Holy Roman Empire, with himself as head and the
Pope as an "also ran," and this obsession led to endless
trouble--trouble which is not over yet. Charles also had no sense of
humour, or he would have made friends with the Slavs instead of fighting
them. Men with a "mission in life" rarely have the "saving gift," and so
they cause endless trouble; Charles did.
He hammered the Saxons into Christianity: they were Teutons and could
stand it. He tried the same on the Slavs, but force was not the right
method in their case. Charles could not see this, and went on killing
Slavs, handing over their property to Teuton knights. This method, and
especially its results, appealed strongly to Charles's successor, who
continued to hack the way of Christianity through Slavonic tribes until
eventually the latter were completely subjugated in all the
German-speaking countries of to-day. It took a long time to do this, for
there is a deal of resilience in the Slav, and his soul remains his own
even under much persecution. The Slavs were heavily handicapped too;
they were broken up into numerous little tribes and clans, and seldom
became united under the leadership of a strong man of their own race.
They had no spiritual head who would take responsibility for any crime
as long as it was atoned for by a corresponding number of heathen
converted or killed. The pagan Slav would not just push his bit of piety
on to the priest before dashing into the fray; he had to propitiate
various jealous deities in person, not by proxy. This must have been
anxious work and a waste of time to boot. Then again, both sides were
capable and frequently guilty of abominable treachery, with the
difference that the Christian Teuton betrayed his enemy only, which was
counted unto him for righteousness, whereas the Slav was inclined to
sell his own cause, only to be "let down" by the Teuton in the end. The
Slavs were also prone to fight among themselves in their spare time;
there has been no marked improvement on either side for the last ten
centuries or so; however, the history of other nations and races tends
to prove that neither Slav nor Teuton are unique in this respect.
Anyway, the "Holy Roman Empire," describing itself as of German
nationality, spread out over Central Europe, absorbing one Slavonic
tribe after another until there remained as the most western of them
only the Czechs of Bohemia as a coherent body, their national life
centred on Prague.
* * * * *
However, we are still on the way to Prague up the valley of the Elbe, an
interesting route, as it takes you by Dresden, rich in art treasures and
still renowned for its music.
The best time of year to travel by this route is the season when the
fruit trees are in blossom. Then the valley of the Elbe is a mass of
white and pale green set against a background of yellow sandstone rocks
and the sombre greens and purples of pine forests. It is not so very
long ago since this district of Saxony formed part of the Kingdom of
Bohemia, and many names familiar to travellers in these parts recall
memories of Slavonic inhabitants--Blasewitz, Loschwitz, Pilnitz, whither
the royal family of Wettin, another Slavonic name, was wont to retire
for the summer months. The Wettins have now retired from business as
monarchs, and their former subjects are following the prevailing fashion
of submission to democratic rule tempered by an occasional diversion in
the form of an attempted local counter-revolution. These movements are
generally innocuous; they sometimes add to the gaiety of nations by the
sheer imbecility of their inception and attempted execution, and they
appear to be welcome rather than otherwise, as a means of distracting
public attention from the universal muddle and general misguidance of
European affairs, to those who consider themselves called upon and
qualified to set those affairs right.
* * * * *
You may also approach Prague via Vienna; in former days you were
encouraged by Austrian propaganda to do so, and this in order to
emphasize the fact that you were expected to regard Prague as a quaint
little provincial town lying on the road to nowhere in particular. The
hand of the Habsburg lay heavy on Prague, and all the glory of great
possessions had to be concentrated on Vienna.
We are still on the road to Prague, which has come into its own at last,
whereas the glory of Vienna has departed. You wind up to the Bohemian
Forest through lovely scenery, where the grey ramparts of Eggenburg look
out over the blue distances, across the uplands of Bohemia, passing
Tabor dreaming yet of stirring days of religious strife, its towers
mirrored in the waters of Jordan, and onward till a wide curve brings
the first sight of the towers and spires of "Zlata Praha," Golden
Prague.
The usual travelling Westerner prefers the shortest and most convenient
route to Prague, namely, via Paris. You may get right through from
London to Prague in thirty-six hours if you just skirt round Paris by
the _ceinture_, but a right-minded wayfarer, who should never hurry,
will not miss an opportunity of taking the tonic of a few days in the
"Ville Lumiere." If he be a true wayfarer--that means not only an
enterprising traveller but also given to contemplation--he will bestow
some thought on the geographical position respectively of Paris and his
destination, Prague, which should help him to enter into the spirit of
those two cities; but of this more hereafter.
When the wayfarer does tear himself away from Paris he should travel by
the _train de luxe_, which lands him, without the trouble of changing,
in Prague at a reasonably early hour of the evening. This route is
interesting in itself, as it leads through many notable places, Chateau
Thierry, with its grim reminders of the Great War, Nancy, and Strasbourg
restored to France. Then on to Stuttgart, the capital of a small but
healthy German Republic, formerly the Kingdom of Wuertemberg; there has
been no exaggerated display of republican fervour here in this clean and
proper capital, and a crown still tops the coat of arms of a line of
rulers, on the former royal palace. You cross the fertile country of
Franconia, a wide curve gives you a fine view of Nuremberg, and then you
ascend towards the pass that divides the Ore Mountains from the Bohemian
Forest. There are quaint old towns growing out of crumbling battlements
perched on rocks, towns of soft-sounding South German names breathing
history of long ago. There is, for instance, Waiblingen, a very
ordinary-looking wayside station, yet what memories does that name
recall! Memories of Hohenstaufen Emperors, Fredericks and Conrads, down
to the last and luckless Conradin, memories of faction fights between
the city republics of Italy, within the walls of those cities, between
Guelph and Ghibelline, Welf and Waiblingen. This country Bavaria was
also at one time the home of the Welfs; they were a strong, determined
race, and spent much time and energy in vigorous opposition to Holy
Roman Emperors, possibly as men of common sense they considered the
whole prevailing idea of empire rather nonsensical; they were eventually
banished to the country about Hanover and Brunswick, where they
flourished by virtue of their forceful character--and we Britons have
reason to be grateful that it was so.
We move along to Eger or Cheb, where we find a last reminder of the
Hohenstaufen in the ruins of a castle and a round two-storied chapel
built by Frederick Barbarossa.
During the summer season a through coach from Paris is detached at Eger,
whence it is taken to Carlsbad, whither go those who have occasion to
repent them of the evil they have wrought in themselves by
self-indulgence; there they fast and prepare for the next season of
overeating, among peculiarly beautiful surroundings.
From Eger onwards we pass out of the zone of German predominance and
into the ancient land of Bohemia, over wooded heights and broad fertile
fields, past Marienbad, beloved of our King Edward, and where are also
many who love his memory, past Pilsen, and winding along a clear river,
the Berounka, its banks crowned here and there by castles and chapels,
each with a story all its own yet part of the life of the people of
Bohemia, until a sharp curve brings you to the meeting of the waters of
Berounka and Vltava within hail of Prague.
You should travel to Prague when the days are long, so you will be
rewarded by a very fair view as the train crosses the placid River
Vltava. Out of a shadowy mass of grey houses with tiled roofs, divided
by the glittering, winding river, rises the Castle of Prague, a massive
building crowned by a church of which the soaring spires, pinnacles, and
flying buttresses _s'accusent_ against the western sky. The train then
plunges you into a tunnel, a long tunnel taken slowly, where you may
reflect on the vision you have seen, the vision of another city "that is
at unity in itself."
You have had your first glimpse of Prague, and it was beautiful, so you
set about endeavouring to enter into the spirit of the place, to absorb
its atmosphere and to study its character. For every ancient city that
has stood up against adversity and overcome it has a very definite
character of its own. And it is a mysterious, wonderful thing this
character, this _cachet_ of a great city; the charm of Paris or the
grandeur of London, the glittering stillness of Venice or the insistent
glory of eternal Rome.
The character of a city, as is that of man, is formed by experience,
chiefly adverse, and is made evident by the work the city has done for
humanity, its creator and its care. From the study of a city's character
may you look into its future and presage whether it be likely to achieve
success or doomed to failure. For there have been failures among cities
as among men, some pathetic owing to inherent weakness, others as a
consequence of their own misdeeds.
Contrast Constantinople with Eternal Rome. Constantinople, with its
pathetic remains of greatness, failed to remain "at unity in itself";
ancient Byzantium the "Guardian of the Gate" against the invading
Oriental, lived to see its churches turned into mosques, below which
lie, broken and untended, the porphyry monuments of Paleologue and
Cantacuzene.
What of things beautiful was spared wandered to Rome, whence from the
crumbling remnants of an old civilization came the light of the
Renaissance that spread over Western Europe.
Most pathetic of all cities that have failed is Amarapura, not so long
ago the capital of Burma, and a flourishing city on the banks of the
Irrawaddy, placed indeed in the most appropriate position for its former
purpose.
But a new King came who was not content with the capital of his fathers,
so he ordered its removal. A sycophantic priesthood was loud in
prophecies of the great future of the new capital to be built some few
miles away, but Mandalay is this day the provincial centre of the
government of a race alien to those who founded the city; the race of
Kings, the last scion of which abandoned the city of his fathers, is all
but extinct, and Amarapura has returned to the jungle from which it
rose.
Now this, I admit, appears to have nothing to do with the city of
Prague; it is indeed a far stretch of vision from "a Terrace in Prague"
to the banks of the Irrawaddy.
Nevertheless, memories of far-off days in Burma came surging up one day
as I sat on my terrace reading a newspaper printed and published in the
city that lay shrouded in historic mist below. The paper brought news of
an old acquaintance, not exactly a close, not even a bowing
acquaintance, for we were generally kept apart by force of circumstances
(which he might have controlled) at a distance of about a rifle-shot.
This acquaintance was one Wun Thu, a son of Thebaw, last of the Burman
Kings.
Wun Thu objected strongly to British rule, and emphasized his objection
by making trouble with his bands of patriots, whom we called dacoits,
robbers.
Even my peaceable occupation of surveying the land met with obstruction
on the part of Wun Thu, and led to a frequent exchange of perfectly
harmless rifle-shots. And here in Prague, looking down over my newspaper
from the terrace of my choice, I seemed to see the spires of the city
mass closer together and take on the form of giant jungle trees, the
broad Vltava to shrink to the narrow silver thread of a mountain stream
at the crossing of which Wun Thu's sporting warriors had levelled their
blunderbusses lashed to trees and warranted harmless to all but the men
behind them; the paper told of another rising led by Wun Thu. Wun Thu
had lain "doggo" for many years--at least he had done nothing to attract
the attention of Central Europe--yet here he was, a man of my age and on
the downward slope, following the post-war instinct of making
trouble--for himself chiefly, as his attempt failed. I feel sorry for my
old acquaintance; like so many of us of a former generation, he no
longer fits into the picture; he is probably too honest to succeed under
present-day conditions. However, Wun Thu has been banished to Ceylon,
and I am still writing about Prague. Even in this I am last and, I
willingly admit, least of a goodly company.
First in time of this goodly company is Cosmas of Prague, who wrote his
chronicles early in the twelfth century. There are yet earlier German
chronicles which make mention of the Bohemians, but the city of Prague
was not in the days in which they were written. Those German chronicles
suggest that the Bohemians who came into their land some time in the
sixth century were at one time tributary to the Avari, an Asiatic tribe
which had taken possession of the greater part of present-day Hungary,
and were rather a nuisance to Western Europe.
It will be remembered that Charlemagne had forceful argument with these
Avari; it had something to do with that worthy's trip to visit the
Empress of the East; there was a squabble about fares, river dues and
such matters. However, this is _vieux jeu_, and has nothing to do with
Prague. The Avari were devoted to the time-honoured practice of robbing
and ravishing their neighbours, among them the Bohemians. These latter
seem to have borrowed one Samo the Frank, a strong man, from one of the
northern Slavonic tribes, and as he proved a success, invited him to be
King over them.
Samo accepted the invitation, and is said to have founded the first
great Slavonic State with Bohemia as nucleus and a strong castle at
Vy[vs]ehrad, of which we shall have more to tell hereafter. The
neighbouring Franks became uneasy at Samo's increasing importance, and
under Dagobert, their King, invaded Bohemia, to be badly beaten at
Wogastisburg, which, according to Count Luetzow, was near the present
town of Cheb. Samo extended his territory after this victory, and
appears to have lived till about the middle of the seventh century.
There ensues a complete lapse in the chronicling of the history of
Bohemia until Cosmas took up the tale.
Having no historical records of events since the days of Samo, he drew
upon a rich store of legend which, coloured by his lively imagination,
forms a glowing and vivid background to the story of this interesting
and attractive branch of the great Slavonic race, I am not competing
with Cosmas. Bohemia has produced many chroniclers and historians since
his day, men whose soul was filled with pride and love of race, whose
mind was bent on giving to the world truthfully recorded history, men
whose imagination nurtured on lovely legends, on great traditions amid
the beauties of one of Europe's fairest countries, found expression in
works of lasting worth: I need only mention such names as Palacky,
Tomek, and Luetzow among many.
Of strangers who have been charmed to pertinent utterance by the glory
and beauty of Prague there is an imposing array. In the fifteenth
century AEneas Silvius, afterwards Pope Pius II, came this way, and
described Prague as the "Queen of Towns." Then Goethe, whose glowing pen
could add colour to the vibrant beauty of Italian landscape, writes of
Prague as "der Mauerkrone der Erde kostbarste Stein." We will interpret
this, as it is no longer the fashion to understand German, especially in
Prague: "the most precious jewel in the mural crown of this earth."
Another German, Alexander von Humboldt, gives to Prague fourth place
among the world's "cities beautiful."
Rodin considered Prague as the "Rome of the North," a comparison that
seems rather trite at first, but those who feel the meaning of this city
will understand and appreciate the French sculptor's judgment. Prague
has, at least superficially, one quality in common with Rome; in your
wanderings in either city you may come suddenly upon something of beauty
so stupendous as to take your breath away.
Other French visitors of importance show a tendency to dwell upon the
character of the Bohemians in general rather than on the beauty of their
capital. With keen perception they draw the deeper meaning from out the
stones of Prague; thus in the fifties of the last century writes
Viollet-le-Duc, "Prague est une capitale dans laquelle on sent la
puissance d'un grand peuple," and Massieu de Clerval is yet more
emphatic: "si un pays peut se vanter d'une nationalite indestructible
c'est a coup sur la Boheme.--Une nation qui a passe par de pareilles
epreuves ne perira, elle a vaincu la mort."
We must not overlook yet another visitor to Prague whose outlook was
practical rather than romantic, Ibrahim Ibn Jacub. This Jewish trader
from Arabia travelled in Bohemia some time in the tenth century, and was
much struck with Prague, "a great commercial town of stone-built
houses."
So we who would add a belated word of tribute to the glory of Prague the
Golden find ourselves indeed in goodly company. Moreover, we live in the
present, and have, as far as this book is concerned, only just arrived
in Prague.
The morning sun that tips the pinnacles of the Castle of Prague with
gold, that dispels the purple shadows in which the city lies shrouded,
and calls forth sparkling facets on the broad river, dissipates our
dreams of cities that have failed and perished. It summons us to study
this ancient city, old yet ever young. Beautiful, too, in all the
varying glints of light upon the spires and turrets of its hundred
towers, when the morning breeze comes down-stream and rustles in the
trees that deck the islands, to the golden glory of the sunset behind
the purple masses of the castle. Then a short star-lit night while
Prague rests in dreams of former greatness to gain strength to face its
high duties of the morrow.
Indeed, Prague is an ancient city, yet young and active and wonderfully
beautiful in all its aspects.
It is not my intention to conduct you round Prague, to introduce to you
one by one the many features of the city, and tell you all there is to
know about them. This for two excellent reasons: one, that I am far from
having got to the end of such knowledge myself, the other that you may
be induced to come here and find out for yourself how much of interest
and of beauty lies open before you.
As in introducing a friend, I mean to state only a few salient points,
to give you a hint of the city's story here and there as told by ancient
buildings, as shown in public haunts or quiet nooks, hoping that in your
turn you may make a friend of this venerable, this beautiful Prague.