Deals in succession with five Kings of the House of P[vr]emysl, Ottokar
I, Wenceslaus I, Ottokar II, Wenceslaus II and III, with whom the male
line of this famous dynasty became extinct. This chapter also touches on
the story of the Jews of Prague and tells about one Dalibor who provided
a hero for Smetana's opera of that name. Mentions buildings and
improvements undertaken by the Kings above named; tells of their
troubles and trials, and how for a time they overcame them. Introduces
the first Habsburg to Bohemia and makes mention of other visitors to
Prague.
On the death of Vladislav II, in fact on his retirement to the
cloistered peace of Strahov, it became evident that there were too many
P[vr]emysls about in Bohemia to make for that country's peace and
contentment. These worthies were constantly falling over each other in
the scramble for the throne, and their disunited efforts resulted in ten
changes in the person of the sovereign over a period of twenty-four
years. This filled Bohemia's German neighbours with unholy joy and
brought the distracted country more and more under Teuton domination, so
much so that Frederick Barbarossa thought fit to summon one or other
pretender and a bunch of obstreperous Bohemian nobles to appear before
him at the Imperial Court at Ratisbon, in order that he might exercise
the right he had assumed of settling the affairs of the P[vr]emysl
dynasty. By way of a picturesque touch to the proceedings, Barbarossa is
said to have arranged for a suitable display of executioners' axes at
the meeting. Nevertheless this pretty imperial conceit settled no
affairs one way or another, and it was not until P[vr]emysl Ottokar
became undisputed ruler of Bohemia, and eventually of Moravia as well,
that order of a sort was restored. Death had also been busy among
members of the P[vr]emysl family and had brought considerable relief to
the distracted country.
By the time Ottokar I had settled himself firmly on the throne he found
that the confused, almost anarchic, state which Germany had drifted into
could mean many advantages to Bohemia, if the situation were properly
handled. The House of Hohenstaufen began to go downhill after the death
of Henry VI, and we find a lusty Welf, Otto, clamouring for the imperial
diadem, assisted by a number of German Electors. This gave the ruler of
Bohemia his opportunity, and Ottokar took it. His son Wenceslaus I and
grandson Ottokar II followed the same line of policy, a purely dynastic
one. They took sides with one or other of the rivals for the crown of
the Holy Roman Empire, changing as considerations of domestic interests
required, and making skilful use of the perennial quarrel between Empire
and Papacy over the Investitures. While the Hohenstaufens were trickling
out until the luckless Conradin lost his head at Naples, while fierce
Welfs like Otto of Brunswick wrecked themselves on the rock of papal
insistence, Bohemia's rulers were profiting. Ottokar I seems to have
been particularly astute in this line of business. He supported two
rival Emperors in turn and got something useful out of both, he upheld
the cause of Pope Innocent III against one or other imperial rival and
induced that pontiff to recognize the P[vr]emysl's title to royalty.
Ottokar even found himself sufficiently strong to try a throw with the
Pope himself on the vexed subject of Investiture, simply by way of a
little private sport on his own account and not as part of the general
European brawl. It happened that Andrew, Bishop of Prague, was one of
those didactic prelates who insisted on all the little things the Papacy
was out for--immunity for his clerics from the temporal law-courts, from
taxes, and so on. Above all, Andrew was strong on the right of
conferring ecclesiatical office, albeit he had himself accepted
investiture at the hands of Ottokar. This led to quite a hearty quarrel
in which Andrew got the worst of it; he had to seek refuge in Rome,
whence he let off all the customary fulminations, declaring Bohemia to
be under interdict and so on. Nobody in Bohemia took the least notice of
Andrew's little efforts; Church and people went solidly with their King
on this occasion, and carried on their devotional exercises as before.
We have to thank Ottokar for several picturesque flashes which brighten
up the gloomy picture of this period. So for instance, he took a trip to
Maintz, where he was solemnly crowned as King. No doubt Prague would
have been a more suitable setting for this function, but Ottokar had so
timed his arrangements as to come in for a double event, for Philip of
Suabia with assistance from Bohemia's ruler, secured the German crown at
the same time. Then again this thoughtful P[vr]emysl Ottokar provided
Bohemia with yet another patron saint of the blood royal, and not by the
old-fashioned family method of killing a relative. Ottokar had married
Constance of Hungary, and it was their daughter Agnes who next joined
the distinguished and hallowed company of Ludmilla and Wenceslaus.
Agnes, educated by St. Hedwig, early distinguished herself by refusing
to marry Emperor Frederick II. She decided to become a bride of heaven
instead, founded the Order of Clarissa, entered it herself and
eventually died as abbess in the odour of sanctity. Frederick consoled
himself with one wife after another (a wife seems to have lasted no time
in those days), his third and last being Isabella, daughter of King John
of England, whose son, Richard of Cornwall, also comes into the story a
little farther on in this chapter. St. Agnes was held in great reverence
by the citizens of Bruex, is still so held, I hope, for she did them a
good turn in 1424. The Pragers had been indulging in a feud with the
Bruexers, and had taken a bad beating on one occasion. The former
prepared a surprise attack and marched on Bruex hoping to take it by a
midnight assault. St. Agnes happened to be watching while the fat
burghers slept; she roused them from slumber, drove them to the walls
and aided them in beating off the attacking Pragers, Then the Bruexers
went to sleep again. It is also pleasant to reflect that Agnes's refusal
to marry Frederick did not mar the excellent relations that sprang up
between that monarch and Ottokar whenever the latter happened to want
something out of the former. It is true that Ottokar had changed about a
good deal between one rival emperor and another, but he remained loyal
to Frederick in the end, and the latter outlived him by some thirty
years. The relations between the two must have been quite pleasant and
comfortable, as you may judge from the concessions made by the Emperor
of the Holy Roman Empire to Bohemia's King. A pretty and tactful
compliment it was on the part of Frederick to allow Ottokar's heralds,
when preceding their royal master to the Imperial Diet, to carry lighted
torches on poles before him, and this to signify that the Bohemian
excursionists were at liberty to burn down anything they had a mind to.
It is these little considerations that have ever played such an
important though unrecognized part in the diplomatic relations between
nations. The Bohemians are still quite nice about accepting little acts
of kindness and consideration from anybody.
P[vr]emysl Ottokar I had reigned for twenty-eight years when his son
Wenceslaus, first King of that name, succeeded him, and, strange to say,
practically without opposition. By this time Bohemia had risen to a
position of importance in the councils of Europe not only by the
skilful, not to say artful, policy of its rulers, but also owing to the
growing prosperity of the country which was reflected in the life of
Prague its capital.
Prague consisted of three distinct settlements each apparently under
separate administration. There was the old original settlement on
Vy[vs]ehrad which seems to have been under the sway of the abbot
presiding over the monastic institutions on that hill. Then there was
Libu[vs]a's foundation on the Hrad[vs]any and extending down to the
river, probably under the rule of the King's lieutenant or burgrave,
and finally the Old Town on the right bank with its own municipal
institutions. These three parts of Prague were separately walled in, but
little remains of any architectural work earlier in date than the Kings
of Bohemia of whom this Wenceslaus is generally counted as the first
though his father's royal rank had been recognized by the Pope and at
least two emperors.
By the time Wenceslaus I came to the throne, the changes were in full
swing which were to lead up to the golden age of Prague a century or so
later. We have already noticed a tendency of German immigrants towards
Prague and other cities of Bohemia. The Germans, mostly tradesmen and
artisans, came with the civic instinct well developed, whereas the sons
of Czech were, and still are, more of the fields and forests and the
free life without walls. The Germans, bringing with them the
appreciation of walled security, were responsible in great measure for
the fortified cities of Bohemia and Moravia. It cannot be said of the
later P[vr]emysl rulers preceding the Kings of Bohemia that they were
inspired by the founder's ardour. Then again the Bohemian nobility had
risen to a strong sense of its own importance encouraged by the
lamentable dissensions in the reigning house, and not uninfluenced by an
infusion of German blood; they also had taken to walling themselves in
on convenient hill-tops. As these nobles were become increasingly
troublesome, it is not surprising that P[vr]emysl rulers induced more
and more Germans to settle in the cities of Bohemia and Moravia, thus
starting a steady-going middle class which might be expected to pay for
peace and protection and which when walled in was conveniently in hand
for the tax-collector's operations. That this scheme was beginning to
succeed even in the early days of the twelfth century is proved by the
fact that Jews were flocking to Prague in ever increasing numbers, so
there must have been business doing in the capital and other cities of
the land, under conditions of reasonable security. It may be taken for
granted that improvements and additions to the defences of Prague, the
decoration of the town by stately churches and other monuments, however
much directed by the sovereign, were paid for by the burghers.
The story of the Jews in Prague makes very interesting reading; it is,
however, beyond the scope of this work to give more than an indication
of the part that the Children of Israel took in the development of the
city. You will remember that a travelling commercial gentleman of
Semitic origin, one Ibrahim Ibn Jacub, had visited Prague in the tenth
century and had noted the place with approval. As far as I can make out
he makes no reference to a colony of his co-religionists already in
existence here, so the story that Jews settled here before the
destruction of Jerusalem seems little likely. It was, indeed, averred by
the Jews of Prague that they had their settlement here long before
Libu[vs]a launched her prophecies, before the birth of Christ in fact,
so that they at least might be considered guiltless of the Divine
Tragedy on Golgotha. Their legend calls the place Buiarnum, which
suggests some acquaintance with the Celtic tribe that rested for a while
in Bohemia, gave its name to the country and then wandered to Bavaria,
where it repeated the performance. I find this legend of the Jews
difficult to believe despite my earnest endeavour to find something of
truth in Saga's ebullitions. How, for instance, is it possible that the
gifted lady Libu[vs]a did not discover the advantages of a Jewish colony
and that she omitted to prophesy a contribution out of the sons of
Israel towards her new foundation? No, if there had been any Jews within
signing distance of this city when it arose, Praha would have started
with a mortgage on her, and the entertainment tax would probably be
double what it is this day.
You may take it as a general principle that every country has the Jews
it deserves. If you oppress them, trample them in the mud as was
customary in pre-war Russia, they will turn and rend you when their turn
comes round; this is happening in Russia at present. If you despoil a
Jew by violence, he will do the same to you by guile, and you may or may
not be left with your full complement of cuticle. If you treat the Jew
as one entitled to equal rights with equal responsibilities, you will
find him an excellent citizen.
As elsewhere in the Europe of the Middle Ages, the Children of Israel in
Prague were confined to certain quarters of the town. We have heard how
a number of them were ordered to leave the Hrads[vs]any side of the
river and settle in the Old Town. The quarter allotted to the Jews was
in that part of the Old Town known as Josefov, and the Old Ghetto stood
approximately in that complex of narrow streets between the river at the
Rudolfinum Bridge and the broad thoroughfare Mikula[vs]ska T[vr]ida. I
could point out the place from my terrace if I were minded to give its
locality away and to depart from my principle of making every man choose
his own point of view.
The life of the Ghetto centred round the old Jewish Town Hall, with its
quaint, indeed rather unsightly, tower on which is a clock that you are
expected to treat as one of the sights of the place. On the face of this
clock the numbers are marked by Hebrew letters and the hands of this
clock move from right to left. The fact that the Jews had a Town Hall to
themselves in ancient Prague is significant; it stood for the
semi-autonomous constitution of the Jewish community which was subject
to the sovereign as a corporate body with its own municipal institutions
and responsibilities. This peculiar segregation of the Jewish community
as an _imperium in imperio_, apart in matters of local administration as
in matters of religion, from their fellow-citizens, must have done a
great deal towards forming the character of its members, and the result
has been of advantage to the city of Prague in times of stress.
Close by the Jewish Town Hall stands another yet more ancient landmark
of cultural history, the "Staronova [vS]kola", or Old New School. Close
by the side of that broad thoroughfare the Mikulas[vs]ka T[vr]ida, with
the electric trams clanging along it, stands this strange temple. Dr.
Je[vr]abek, in his excellent booklet on _Beautiful Old Prague_ likens
this ancient building to a gigantic hand of Aaron held up in blessing
over the Ghetto; I think you will agree with me that this is a very
happy simile. Built in the severe style of transition from Romanesque to
Gothic, of massive stone walls heavily buttressed, with steep red-tiled
sloping roof, blackened with age and the grime of the walled-in Ghetto,
this temple served not only as a place of worship for the sons of
Israel, but also as a casket for the remains of a yet older one said to
date back to the sixth century and probably the oldest temple on the
Continent of Europe. The present fane itself is of venerable age and
aspect; its building fell into the reign of King Wenceslaus I and
Ottokar II, and took ten years, from 1250 to 1260. Men only are allowed
to worship in the inner temple, dingy and dark; whatever light
penetrates through the narrow windows calls forth reluctant glints from
the many brass candelabra, work of long centuries ago. Women may look on
from an outer court through glazed openings that look like
gun-embrasures.
The Jews required strong defences in the dark days of the Middle Ages;
their Ghetto was shut off from the rest of the city by heavy iron gates,
but even these proved of no avail when once the mob got loose and
undertook a raid. On several occasions organized massacres took toll of
the "Children of the Ghetto," who on other occasions were banished, bag
and baggage, from Prague and driven out into the country. Though now and
again they suffered intolerably, yet were they on the whole better
treated than in many other parts of Europe, were allowed to develop
along their own lines, and produced many men of mark and learning, and
women of distinction, among the latter one who was raised to the
nobility by a Habsburg Emperor and King of Bohemia, Bas-Schevi called
"of Treunberg." Among the prominent men whose light shone out beyond the
Ghetto of Prague, I may mention the poet-Rabbi Abigdor Caro, the
bibliophile Rabbi Oppenheim whose library is now in Oxford, then the
chronicler and mathematician David Gans, a friend of Keppler and Tycho
de Brahe, and Solomon de Medigo de Candia the pupil of Galileo Galilei.
[Illustration: "A RELIC OF THE GHETTO."]
Tall modern houses look down upon the smoke-blackened temple; the Ghetto
gates have fallen long ago, and nothing remains of its former crowded
dwelling-places but a quaint ramshackle old house of Oriental aspect,
and the old cemetery, Beth-Chaim, "the House of Life," as the Jews call
it. This is no doubt the oldest existing and still preserved Jewish
cemetery in Europe. Here tombstones stand closely crowded together, or
lean one against the other under the thickets of ancient elder-bushes;
glints of sunlight flicker through the dense foliage over graven sign of
stag, of vine or flower, or the hand upraised in benediction of some son
of Aaron, light up Hebrew script in its severely decorative characters,
inscriptions half effaced but not forgotten, for careful record has been
kept. This old burial ground seems far removed from Central Europe, yet
it is intimately connected with the story of Prague. Though old
landmarks are vanishing, yet a mist of legend hangs close over this
strange, alien part of the city, legends of cabalists, reputed sorcerers
like Aaron Spira or the more famous Rabbi Jehuda ben Bezalel Loew. The
latter is supposed to have been in league with the Powers of Darkness
which bestowed on him superhuman gifts. This Rabbi is said to have
created an Homunculus which became so troublesome that it had to be
incarcerated. The spot chosen as prison for this evil being was high up
in the wall of the temple. A row of iron clamps leads up to a small door
on the outside wall facing the Mikula[vs]ska T[vr]ida, leads up to where
Homunculus is still believed to be in durance.
Prague got better Jews than it deserved, for they showed great loyalty
to the city of their adoption, and, despite persecution, even took an
active part in the defence of the town. This happened towards the end of
the Thirty Years' War, when the Swedes were making this part of Europe
unsafe. The Swedes broke into Prague by the Strahov Gate and attempted
to seize the Old Town. They had almost succeeded, for the usual
precautions against surprise had been neglected, but luckily the
students, butchers and Jews of Prague managed to rally to the defence.
After fierce fighting on the Charles Bridge, the Swedes had to abandon
their attempt on the Old Town and retired altogether. On this occasion
the Jews showed not only public spirit but commendable bravery, and were
rewarded by the Emperor with a banner, a mighty imposing affair with ten
poles, as it takes ten men to carry it; you may see this interesting
trophy in the old temple still.
The Jews of Prague have continued to do good work not only for and in
the city of their adoption, but well beyond its confines, both in public
utility work and in science. It is especially in the science of healing
that the Jews of Prague have risen to eminence, not only by reason of
their depth of learning and their unremitting labour, but also by the
generosity and impartiality which actuates them in their dealings with
sufferers. I myself have personal knowledge of such instances, and I
speak of people as I find them.
No doubt some of the Jews joined in the picturesque cry which did so
much to cheer up our Christian enemies of the Central Powers, "Gott
strafe England!" but I cannot quite imagine any responsible son of
Israel doing so with Christian fervour; the "jealous God" of the
Hebrews, having reserved to Himself the right of vengeance, would be
sure to resent any instructions from "the sheep of His pasture" as to
how a case of the kind should be dealt with. Moreover, the punishment of
England may safely be left in the hands of her politicians, who are also
in one sense or another "Chosen People."
When rewarding those who distinguished themselves in the defence of
Prague against the Swedes, the Emperor also remembered the butchers of
the town. These stout fellows brought to their guild, as tokens of
imperial gratitude and goodwill, the permission to bear as cognizance
the White Lion of Bohemia clutching an axe; a very rampant lion
reinforced by a double tail--in fact "some lion," more power to him!
* * * * *
Of Wenceslaus II there is not much to relate in regard to lasting
monuments of his reign in the capital of his kingdom. He was kept
thoroughly busy with the quarrels between Pope and Emperor, taking sides
as best suited his country's interests, making for safety as a rule. He
also found time for a private quarrel with Leopold, Duke of Austria, but
he also took that ruler's part against the Emperor Frederick II as
occasion served. While Central Europe and the Holy Roman Empire was thus
disporting itself, a diversion was caused by a particularly noxious
swarm of Tartars which had broken loose from somewhere in Asia, probably
from the region of Lake Baikal. They swept over Russia, swamping the
domains of the disunited princes of that country, defeated Poles and
Silesians at Liegnitz, and generally set up a healthy scare in
disordered Europe. Wenceslaus rose to the occasion like a good stout
P[vr]emysl. He fortified the passes leading into Bohemia from Silesia,
and there his sturdy soldiery defeated the Tartars, who turned off
towards Moravia, Hungary and Austria, and vanished again from Europe as
quickly as they had come. Thereupon Pope and Emperor, Bohemian King and
Austrian Duke, and all the smaller fry, resumed their fighting of each
other, launching bulls and banns and such-like amenities into space on
the chance of some one or other being affected thereby. The Bohemian
nobility thought fit to add to the gaiety of nations by starting an
insurrection against Wenceslaus, a movement led, according to
time-honoured custom, by the King's son Ottokar, who had been entrusted
with the government of Moravia. This Ottokar eventually ascended the
throne of Bohemia as second King of that name, and became one of the
most notable rulers of his time and race.
The early days of Ottokar II are noteworthy on account of the close
connection established between Bohemia and Austria which led to endless
complications and eventual disaster for the former country. Ottokar
thought fit to marry Adela, sister of Duke Frederick of Austria,
Frederick the Warlike, the last of the long line of Babenberg. The lady
was forty-six, Ottokar twenty-five, but that does not matter when there
is a chance of inheriting something. Ottokar was elected Duke by the
Estates of Austria, and endeavoured to incorporate Styria into his
dominions. In this he met with opposition from Bela, King of Hungary,
with whom he came to an agreement after the usual fighting. Thereupon
Ottokar turned his attention to the heathen Prussians, who were supposed
to be getting ripe for conversion to Christianity. He defeated them in
several battles, which made his task much easier, and founded a strong
city, named Koenigsberg after him, to keep the Prussians from
back-sliding.
It is interesting to note that Ottokar's policy brought him into a
certain degree of contact with England. The Holy Roman Empire was making
very heavy weather at the time, the German Electors being thoroughly at
variance amongst themselves, and so it came about that after a period of
intense anarchy euphemistically called the "Interregnum," two rivals
were put up of whom neither could be said to have occupied the throne.
These rivals were both foreigners to Germany, one being a Spaniard, the
other Richard of Cornwall, second son of King John of England. Ottokar
thought fit to support Richard, who in return did little things to
oblige Ottokar, such as investing him with other people's lands and
fiefs, and all went well for a while. Ottokar had extended his dominions
considerably, had brought a number of smaller States, some of them
German, under his sway and virtually controlled all Central Europe from
the Baltic to the Adriatic Seas. He had beaten the Hungarian King Bela
and his friends, Daniel Romanovic the King of Russia and Prince of Kiev,
a Prince of Cracow and odd assortments of Serbs, Bulgars, and
Wallachians, most handsomely at Kressenbrunn on the plains of the River
March.
Ottokar's political conception of the part which Bohemia should play in
Central Europe is particularly interesting. By conquest, alliances and
understandings with his neighbours he had acquired a preponderating
influence in the councils of Europe. The power he had concentrated round
the Slavonic nucleus of his native country lay almost entirely in
German-speaking districts, so that a situation arose in which Count
Luetzov finds some analogy between the policy of this P[vr]emysl Ottokar
and that pursued by the Austrian Government from 1815, when the
Habsburgs finally abandoned the notion of a Holy Roman Empire, to 1864
and 1866, when Prussia took the first decisive step towards reviving the
same idea under the title _Deutsches Reich_. There is a good deal in
Count Luetzov's contention, and this subject might well be taken up by
some leisured student of history. It seems to me that the history of
Central Europe shows several instances of attempted breaks from
tradition and striving after a more lasting political re-grouping such
as Ottokar seemed to have aimed at; I hope to return to this subject
later, though I may only touch the fringe of it.
Ottokar's plans were completely upset, first by the death of his
obliging friend Richard of Cornwall, next by events attending and
arising out of the choice of a new Emperor by the German Electors.
Ottokar being a Slav, and a very powerful one at that, was heartily
hated by all German Princes, so they, being in a majority, disallowed
Ottokar's right to vote at all, and elected as Emperor one Rudolph
Count of Habsburg. History of this time was recorded by Germans chiefly,
and they have spared no trouble to blacken Ottokar's character, by which
process Rudolph of Habsburg is made to stand out as a light shining in
the darkness. In Germanic eyes Ottokar's fault was that of being a Slav,
successful and of great ability. I cannot agree with the German
chronicler's estimate of Rudolph. We are expected to accept him as a
modest sort of backwoods peer, the kind that wears flannel next its skin
and keeps its small estates unencumbered. We have also a pretty picture
in verse of this Rudolph. He is described as meeting a priest carrying
the Host, on the bank of a foaming mountain torrent somewhere among the
Alps where the ruins of the Habsburg still show against the sky like an
abandoned hawk's nest; the name probably derives from Habichts Burg,
Hawk's Castle. Rudolph dismounted, placed the priest on his horse and
humbly, cap in hand, led it across the stream. Years after this
picturesque event the priest, carefully disguised, attended the Council
of Electors and at the psychological moment, produced his harp, burst
into song on the subject of Rudolph, and so swayed the Electors that
they offered the German crown to that modest and retiring Habsburg. I
cannot believe this story of the priest among the Electors, and my
disbelief is based on experience of elective bodies. Can you imagine the
Parish Council, in the throes of electing a suitable person to keep the
village pump in order, being confronted by a mysterious stranger who
suddenly interrupts the proceedings by singing the praises of "good old
Jarge" to the accompaniment of an accordion? No, there is something
wrong about that election story; I believe Rudolph was a schemer, and
the whole affair cut and dried before he stood for election at all.
Certain it is that Rudolph, supported by all Germany, attacked Ottokar;
this was the first rencontre between Bohemia and the House of Habsburg,
and it ended in disaster for the former. Ottokar was deprived of all the
lands he had acquired, betrayed by his own nobles, and finally killed
in battle near the scene of his victory over the Hungarians.
Despite the troublous times of the two Ottokars and of Wenceslaus I, the
city of Prague, or rather the communities composing it, had expanded
into a place of considerable extent and importance, and was already
spoken of as the City of many Towers. The three above-mentioned
sovereigns, as also Wenceslaus II, son and successor of Ottokar II, had
found time and means to do a considerable amount of building of which
some traces are still evident. We have already noted that Wenceslaus I
girt the Old Town around with walls, likewise the hill of Vy[vs]ehrad,
and he took the strengthening of the Hrad[vs]any in hand. This latter
job was completed for the time being by Ottokar II, who caused those
imposing-looking towers on the north front of the castle to be built.
These towers are named respectively Black Tower, White Tower, and
Daliborka, by which latter hangs a tale which I will relate to you by
and by. Some of the authorities I have consulted differ as to the actual
date of these towers, and are inclined to place the building of
Daliborka in the fourteenth century, probably into the period when
Charles IV found the royal castle to be badly in need of repair and set
about the work forthwith. It is certain, however, that both the
Wenceslaus and Ottokars interested themselves in strengthening the
fortifications of Prague, and are not likely to have neglected the
Hrad[vs]any, which stronghold was furnished with a permanent garrison of
ten knights and three hundred men-at-arms. The north side of the castle
has preserved the mediaeval appearance which has been improved away on
the other sides, chiefly by fatuous Habsburger in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries; the north side overhanging the deep-cut Stags'
Moat shows you the formidable nature of this fortress with its stout
towers rising up over the tops of tall trees that struggle up out of the
valley mentioned by Libu[vs]a, for a glimpse of the sun.
The towers of the Hrad[vs]any were suitably fitted out as dungeons, with
the latest thing in trap-doors warranted to give the visitor a sudden
and complete change of air. One of these towers soon found a lodger, one
Dalibor after whom the tower was named for ever after. There is an opera
all about Dalibor composed by Smetana; the music is very beautiful, but
as the singing is all in Czech, I have not quite got the hang of the
story, so will give as nearly as I can and by the aid of my own
imagination, what happened to Dalibor.
Dalibor, it appears, was a Bohemian knight with views in advance of his
time: he was a socialist. One day he assembled his friends, relatives
and retainers in the castle yard and appeared among them armed and on
horseback. He dismounted and commenced proceedings by scraping off his
shield the heraldic emblems with which it was charged. Lions and bears,
rampant, couchant, gardant, and other fauna in becoming attitudes,
bends, bars, engrailed, dancetty, raguly, gules, azure, argent or
otherwise--all these things of beauty vanished from Dalibor's scutcheon
while the assembled multitude wondered "What next?" Thereupon Dalibor
held forth, in impressive manner and impassioned tones, on the iniquity
of the system, the inequality of condition, under which they were all
forced to exist. Having made his assembled fellow-men his equals by
removing the aforesaid heraldic devices, he would further show his sense
of equality by leading them in person and on foot to real freedom; so
said Dalibor. Thereupon the multitude, at Dalibor's heels, set off down
the hill and started spreading equality all around them. Their method
was quite simple, indeed it lacked originality: they just helped
themselves to the goods of those who happened to live by the way. Those
who failed to rise to this lofty conception of Dalibor and his comrades
were knocked on the head--also quite a simple and homely method of
appeal; and so this happy band of pilgrims left behind them a dead-level
of equality. These their efforts at social regeneration, their
illustration of economic principles, were not appreciated. Dalibor was
captured and invited to take up his residence beneath the trap-door of
the tower that was henceforth to be known by his name.
As soon as he was safely housed, Rumour, the mother of Legend, got busy
about him. Folk began to whisper to each other the news that wonderful
music was heard proceeding from out of the stern walls of Dalibor's
prison; the sound of a violin was heard by the many who were attracted
to the spot by Rumour. No doubt Dalibor learnt to play the violin: the
Czech is so intensely musical that he will master any instrument before
he has got the hang of the grammar of his own language, the fiddle is so
much easier. The strange thing is that the musical performance continued
long after Dalibor's death--here Legend steps in with the assertion that
an angel, a fairy, or at least some sort of supernatural being, is
continuing Dalibor's programme.
[Illustration: A TOWER OF THE HRAD[vC]ANY.]
There were many other visitors to Daliborka, and in course of time the
lower stratum of the tower filled up with human relics. As the defunct
visitors were mostly Czechs, and therefore full of music, I should think
that they could form at least a string quartette--it only requires a
little enterprise and a good strong medium. I make a present of this
suggestion to the Prague Society for Psychical Research, if there be
one.
Prague must have been a fair city in those days when Ottokar II rode out
of the gate to meet Rudolph of Habsburg. Although the ban of the Empire
and the interdict of the Church were upon their King, the people of
Prague, clergy and laymen, accompanied him to the city gate with prayers
and tears. When news of his death came to Prague the bells of one
hundred churches tolled out on that 26th of August, the Feast of St.
Rufus, a day destined to be of ill-omen to Bohemia's Kings.
* * * * *
The shadow of the hand of Habsburg hung darkly over the southern
frontiers of Bohemia. Rudolph, the first Habsburg Emperor, began the
famous tactics of his house, gaining power by matrimonial alliances. His
son Rudolph was to marry Agnes, daughter of Ottokar II, whose son
Wenceslaus II was to marry Gutta, the Emperor's daughter.
Wenceslaus II was a minor when he succeeded his father, and suffered
considerably under his guardian and cousin Otto of Brandenburg, who, in
pursuit of an all-German policy, even imprisoned the young King. Anarchy
reigned in Bohemia when young Wenceslaus, at the age of twelve,
nominally assumed the reins of government. The actual ruler of the
country, however, was Zavis of Falckenstein, an able man but of doubtful
morality; there was some unsavoury story concerning him and Ottokar's
widow Kunhuta, whom Zavis eventually married. Then again the young King
had Zavis done to death in treacherous manner, while the condition of
Bohemia as an ordered State went from bad to worse. Strange to relate,
the country flourished economically--became, indeed, very
prosperous--the increase of wealth being largely due to the fact that
workings on the silver mines at Kutna Hora had been resumed. Towards the
end of the reign of this Wenceslaus, whose rule was mild, matters
improved somewhat. Bohemia became a sort of city of refuge, and
neighbouring States, Hungary and Poland, being in a worse state of
anarchy than any others, invited King Wenceslaus to reign over them.
Bohemia and Poland thus became united for a while under one ruler,
Wenceslaus, who had himself crowned King of the latter country at
Gnesen. Hungary was given in charge of the King's son Wenceslaus, who
was crowned as King of that country and resided some time at Ofen.
Wenceslaus had taken a Polish Princess to wife after the death of Gutta,
and had thus reinforced his connection with a Slavonic neighbour, but
Germanism was in the ascendant in Bohemia and the hand of Habsburg was
stretched out over it. It was yet some centuries before the power of the
Habsburg should become absolute in the lands of the P[vr]emysl dynasty,
but that family's light was nearing extinction. Whether good or bad, the
rulers who sprang from the soil, from the peasant stock of Libu[vs]a's
choosing, had been of the people and had on the whole served their
people's interests. With Wenceslaus III murdered by an unknown assassin
while on his way to Poland, the male line of the P[vr]emysl dynasty died
out. It continued in the indirect line by the marriage of Elizabeth,
daughter of Wenceslaus II, with Rudolph, a grandson of the Habsburg who
dealt the death-blow to Bohemia's native rulers.
Whether for good or evil, alien influence was working strongly in
Bohemia, and notably in Prague. Ottokar II had encouraged it as part of
his policy towards keeping in check his turbulent nobles and towards
raising up a reliable middle class. His nobles aided towards his
downfall by their treachery, and the middle class of Prague, though
loyal to the Crown, was alive chiefly to its own interests. Perhaps that
foreign influence was weaving its spell over the burghers of Prague, a
spell to which the Slav is somewhat susceptible.
During the reign of the last P[vr]emysl sovereigns Prague offered the
spectacle of a rich and prosperous city, but its brightness was rather
that of lights round the bier of some illustrious dead. Many foreigners
found themselves attracted to the capital of Bohemia during this
period, among them some ardent souls who were to be found doing good,
according to their lights, in other cities of Europe, namely, Irish
monks. It is of interest to us to note that these monks were frequently
called Scots: you will find traces of them under that designation in the
Schotten Kirche at Ratisbon and the Schotten Ring in Vienna. In Prague
they were recognized as Irish, and their name lives on in the Hybernska
Ulice in the Old Town. A church, with an altar dedicated to St. Patrick,
arose at the corner of that street by the cross-roads, under the hands
of Irish monks; a church now used for secular purposes, and built over
the original edifice, stands there still. Amidst all the turmoil of this
busy centre of the city you may still in those small hours of the
morning when the traffic dies down for a while pick up an echo or two of
the voices of those zealous Irishmen, but you must listen with all your
soul, for those sounds are very elusive. Again, looking out over the
city from my terrace I notice a copper dome just across the Charles
Bridge, a dome flanked by high towers, and all bearing the unmistakable
mark of Jesuit architecture. Yet that building, now used as part of the
University, recalls memories of pious souls who came to Prague at the
invitation of P[vr]emysl Ottokar II. These were the Knights Crucifer, or
the Cruciferous Knights as the guide-book prefers to call them. Their
Order, the members of which always carried a cross in the left hand, was
founded by St. Cletus; their work was to tend the sick and offer
hospitality to pilgrims. The Order went down on the death of the founder
and sought refuge in Palestine, where St. Cyriak discovered it, reformed
it, and eventually brought it to Rome. This is said to have happened in
the latter half of the fourth century, but I should think the date
extremely uncertain; nor does it matter much. The Order received new
rules in the twelfth century from Pope Alexander III, who, being on good
terms with Ottakar II at the time, allowed the Order to be transplanted
to Prague. I do not in the least know what the good knights did all
those years between their installation at Prague in 1256 and the
dissolution of their Order in 1783. Anyone who wants to know may no
doubt find records of their doings, which were probably concerned with
adding up quarterings and deciding questions of etiquette. Still their
name, Knights Crucifex, lingers round one of the most picturesque
corners of Prague, under the shadow of a stately Gothic tower which
silently but insistently claims reverence above the _baroque_ structures
of a later non-Bohemian age. It is just at this spot, with its lingering
memories of Queen Judith, of P[vr]emysl Ottokar and a yet greater King
of Bohemia of whom I shall tell you shortly, that you realize how Prague
is that Golden City of the days of glorious Gothic and the Renaissance,
and not of the _baroque_ superimposed by the Jesuits after Bohemia's
glory had departed on the gentle slopes of the White Mountain.