The Kolowratstrasse -- Picolomini's Palace -- The Museum --
Geological Affluence -- Early Czechish Bibles -- Rare Old
Manuscripts -- Letters of Huss and Ziska -- Tabor Hill --
Portraits -- Hussite Weapons -- Antiques -- Doubtful
Hussites in the Market-place -- The Glückliche Entbindung
-- A Te Deum -- Two Evening Visits -- Bohemian Hospitality
-- The Gaslit Beer-house.
The _Kolowratstrasse_ is one of the finest streets in Prague. It is
broad, straight, and well paved; contains the best hotels, the most
elegant coffee-houses, the handsomest shops, and a palace or two. It
was always known as the _Graben_; for here once flowed the ditch
separating the _Alt_ and _Neustadt_, and _Graben_ it still remains,
the folkname prevailing over that of the Imperial minister after whom
it was named some twenty years ago.
One of the palaces formerly belonged to Wallenstein's opponent, Count
Octavio Picolomini; the other now contains the Bohemian Museum, which,
an honour to the city, is a praiseworthy example of the intellectual
movement among the natives. The Museum Company, formed in 1818, to
collect works of art, natural productions of the country, curiosities,
and antiquities, appointed a committee in 1830 to promote a scientific
cultivation of the Czechish language and literature, and to create a
section of archæology and natural history. Under the designation
_Matice ceská_ (Bohemian Mother), a fund was established and
vigorously maintained, out of which the desired objects were
accomplished; particularly as regards the literature. To call Palacky
into activity--a historian of whom Bohemia is justly proud--was no
trifling achievement. Up to 1847 the collections were kept in the
Sternberg Palace at the Hradschin; but in that year they were removed
to their present more convenient and accessible quarters.
Later in the day I went to the Museum: I wished to see with what sort
of carnal weapons the Hussites had gained so many victories over their
fellow-countrymen. First you enter the department of geology and
mineralogy, the richest and most important of the whole collection.
The specimens are well arranged, and among them you may see minerals
and fossils which give a special interest to the geology of Bohemia.
Concerning these fossils, the late Dean of Westminster says, in his
_Bridgewater Treatise_: "The finest example of vegetable remains I
have ever witnessed, is that of the coal mines of Bohemia. The most
elaborate imitations of living foliage upon the painted ceilings of
Italian palaces bear no comparison with the beauteous profusion of
extinct vegetable forms with which the galleries of these instructive
coal-mines are overhung. The roof is covered as with a canopy of
gorgeous tapestry, enriched with festoons of most graceful foliage,
flung in wild, irregular profusion over every portion of its surface.
The effect is heightened by the contrast of the coal-black colour of
these vegetables with the light groundwork of the rock to which they
are attached. The spectator feels himself transported, as if by
enchantment, into the forests of another world; he beholds trees of
forms and characters now unknown upon the surface of the earth,
presented to his senses almost in the beauty and vigour of their
primeval life; their scaly stems and bending branches, with their
delicate apparatus of foliage, are all spread before him, little
impaired by the lapse of countless ages, and bearing faithful records
of extinct systems of vegetation, which began and terminated in times
of which these relics are the infallible historians."
If you care but little for botany and zoology, with plants, fossils,
and creatures from before the Flood, the attendant will lead you at
once to the archæological department, and uncover the glass-cases
containing rare old manuscripts. Among them are a poem of the ninth
century about Libussa, a somewhat mythical Queen of Bohemia, from whom
Palacky has cleared away the fable; the _Niebelungenlied_ in Czechish;
a Latin Lexicon with Bohemian gloss, date 1102; seven editions of the
Bible in Czechish, all translated before Luther's, show how the
Bohemians profited by the reading of Wycliffe's books which were sent
to them from England; and a remarkable hymn-book, written at the cost
of different guilds, each of whom ornamented their portion with
exquisite paintings in miniature; specimens of the earliest
representations of musical notes; and the first book printed in
Bohemia, _Historia Trojanska_, 1468.
You will look with interest at the letters by Huss, and the challenge
which he hung up on the gate of the University, declaring his
religious opinions, and his readiness to maintain them by argument
against all comers: Latin documents, in a stiff, formal hand. Equally
stiff is a letter written by Ziska, dated from the Hussite camp at
Tabor; but there is a world of suggestion in those hard characters.
That rusty leaf sets your memory recalling the events of five hundred
years ago: the journey of Huss to face the wicked Council, and
martyrdom at Constance, under a safe-conduct granted by the Emperor
Sigismund, requiring all men to let the valiant preacher go and come,
and tarry freely and unharmed;--the furious outbreak of the
Protestants at the accursed condemnation of their teacher to the
flames;--their sanguinary battles, and fiery zeal, and avowed
determination to root out their enemies, whereby for eighteen years
the land was laid waste with fire and sword, and the name of Hussite
became a very terror:--and their redoubtable leader, Ziska the
one-eyed, standing out from among them in bold relief, a captain most
resolute and skilful, the instrument of righteous vengeance upon the
execrable Sigismund; who, though he lost that single flashing eye of
his, yet never lost a battle, nor the confidence of his followers. We
see him amidst his rough and ready fighting men in the camp, on the
heights to which, in the pride of their hearts, they gave a name from
Scripture; and where they quenched their thirst in the water of
Jordan, exulting,
"What hill is like to Tabor hill in beauty and in fame?"
From the letter you turn to look at a portrait of the warrior. It is a
miserable painting, very much in the signboard style, yet you can mark
the breadth of shoulder beneath the gleaming corslet, the oval face,
aquiline nose, large bright eye, and lofty forehead, shaded by thick,
black, curling hair, and picture to yourself a proper hero. There is
another and a better portrait in the Strahow monastery, and by noting
the best points of each you will improve your idea, though perhaps not
to full satisfaction. The attendant, moreover, will call your
attention to a portrait of Huss, whose features express but little of
the intellectual qualities and the steadfastness by which he was
characterized.
A few paces farther, and there are the weapons with which the Hussites
fought and won battles in the name of the Lord. Flails, shields, and
firelocks of a very primitive construction. And such flails! The short
swinging arm is hung by strong iron staples to the end of a stout
staff, about six feet in length, and is braced up in iron bands, which
bristle with projecting points, the better to make an impression on an
enemy's skull. Truly a formidable weapon! Try the weight. The arm must
be strong that would wield it with effect; and mighty must have been
the motive that sent whole ranks armed therewith rushing to the
onslaught as to a threshing-floor. Looking at these things, you
realize somewhat of the shock and storm of the events in which they
were employed.
Besides the stacks of weapons, the room contains in glass-cases round
the walls numerous ivory carvings of singular merit and rarity, and
other curiosities with which you may divert your thoughts. And in a
neighbouring apartment there hangs an engraved view of Prague as it
stood a few years before the fatal day of the White Hill, well worth
inspection. The Hradschin and Wyssehrad, at opposite ends of the city,
look really picturesque crowned with numerous towers.
Walking afterwards through the markets, and seeing the dowdies
sitting by their stalls under large red umbrellas, and the number of
shabby men loitering about, I wondered if they were indeed the
descendants of those who, under Ziska's command, had wielded the
flails. However, in 1848, the men proved that the fighting-blood still
circulated in their veins.
The authorities had lost no time, and on every corner placards were
posted, announcing in loyal terms the "_glückliche Entbindung_" of the
empress; but though crowds stopped to read, I saw no manifestations of
joy. Great was the concourse, too, in the _Grosser Ring_, where a _Te
Deum_ was offered with pomp and ceremony in presence of the city
militia: close ranks of green uniforms interposed between priests and
people.
The letter of the Würzburg professor opened for me the hospitable
doors of a pleasant house on a hill-slope beyond the city. Father,
mother, and the two daughters joined in showing kindness to one who
came to them with credentials from son and brother. The young ladies
spoke English fluently, and while we sauntered between odorous
flower-beds and under drooping cherry-trees, they took pleasure in
exercising their acquirement. Then we had tea in a pretty
garden-house, all open to the breeze and quivering sunbeams and
rustling vespers of the leaves. A Bohemian tea--cutlets, potatoes,
salad, cheese, and butter, bottled beer, _Toleranz_, and the fragrant
beverage itself poured from a real teapot. _Toleranz_ was something
new to me: it is a pungent, relishing preparation, in which
horseradish is a principal ingredient, and at your first taste you
will think it appropriately named.
It was while chatting over this delightful repast that I was told all
the pretty women had left Prague for the watering-places. Two at
least were left behind. The conversation of the Czechish servants who
waited on us, heard at a short distance, sounded like a screechy
quarrel; and on my remarking that I had noticed similar discords
during a ramble in Wales, one of the young ladies replied, in
explanation, "Our friends often think we are scolding our servants,
when all the while we are speaking to them in a quiet, natural tone.
Your ear is deceived. There is nothing but good-humour among them."
It was late each evening when I walked back across the fields to the
city; just the hour, as it seemed, when the great arched beer-vaults
in the _Rossmarkt_ were in their prime. There was something striking
in the long gas-lit vista viewed from the entrance, every table
crowded with tipplers, dimly seen through tobacco-smoke; waiters
flitting to and fro with tankards; the damsel at the sausage-stall
trying to serve a dozen customers at once; while high above the
rumbling, rattling din, sounded the liveliest strains of music. I sat
for awhile on an upturned barrel watching the scene. Here workmen and
labourers, and those of lower degree, the proletaires of Prague, were
enjoying their evening--making merry after the toils of the day. These
were the folk who would fight whether or no in 1848; whose
bullet-marks are yet to be seen on many of the houses. Either the beer
was strong, or they drank too deeply, for many staggered into the
street, and went reeling homewards; conquered more hopelessly by their
own hand than by Prince Windischgratz's bombardment.