TÖPLITZ. ITS GAIETIES. JOURNEY RESUMED. FIRST VIEW OF PRAGUE. GENERAL
CHARACTER OF THE CITY. THE HRADSCHIN. CATHEDRAL. UNIVERSITY. HISTORICAL
DETAILS CONNECTED WITH IT. THE REFORMATION IN BOHEMIA.
The German Spas, or watering-places, especially those of the first
rank, seem to me to offer the best opportunities which a stranger can
desire for the study of the German character, as, in its most unguarded
moments, it presents itself to notice. Whatever a man's rank or station
may be, he seems, from the hour of his entrance into one of these
regions of joy, to lay aside, at least, all belonging to it, which
elsewhere may trammel or incommode him. Princes, nobles, citizens,
officers of every class, natives, foreigners, soldiers, civilians, and
diplomatists, seem to be brought hither by one impulse only,--that is,
by the pursuit of amusement. Business may be, and I doubt not is,
carried on elsewhere than in the shops, but when or how people find
time to attend to it, may well puzzle all save the initiated. I say
nothing of the necessity under which every human being appears to be
laid, of taking the baths as often as an opportunity may offer; for the
bath is to a German what his medicine chest is to an Englishman,--something
without which he could never exist throughout the year. But the round
of amusements which is perpetually going on, the promenade early in the
morning, the ride in the forenoon, the dinner at one o'clock, the music
and lounge afterwards, then the theatre or ball, and last of all, the
supper, these are the events in Töplitz for which alone persons of
every condition seem to live. It is really a most animating spectacle
for a few days, and then--to me at least--it becomes irksome in the
extreme.
With the solitary exception, perhaps, of Carlsbad, Töplitz takes rank
as at once the most fashionable and best ordered watering-place in all
Germany. It is the favourite resort of the King of Prussia, who,
without designing to lead a host of fine people in his train, is, as he
deserves to be, a centre of attraction. Singularly unassuming in all
his habits, he is to be seen passing to and fro, sometimes on foot,
without any attendant whatever, sometimes in a carriage, so plain, that
it might almost pass for a fiacre, or common hackney-coach. It cannot
be said that, in these respects, the nobility of Russia, Austria, and
the German principalities in general, follow his example. The Germans
do not, indeed, affix the same importance to splendid equipages and
fine horses which we find attached to them by the aristocrats of Italy
and Hungary; but they relish these things, to a certain extent, too;
and at Töplitz,--and to say the truth, at the Spas in general,--they
take care that their best displays shall be made. The roads out of
Töplitz, in all directions, are, at the fashionable hours, well filled
with gaily-dressed parties, both in carriages and on horseback.
Of Töplitz itself I may truly say, that I have never seen a
watering-place more perfectly attractive in every sense of the word.
The town is not large; its population falls short, I believe, of three
thousand, and the houses are in proportion; but there is about it an
air of cleanliness and civility which is peculiarly gratifying,
especially in Germany, where, sooth to say, the latter quality is not
always prominently conspicuous. Approaching it, as we did, from the
side of Dresden, you drive through a species of suburb,--that is, along
a road lined on either side by neat mansions, slightly detached from
one another, and are carried first into a street, wide, and clean, and
spacious, and then into the Platz, or square, which forms a constituent
and important part of every German town, be its dimensions what they
may. From the square again, which has a considerable declination
towards the north, you pass into another street, where all the
principal hotels are congregated, and at the extremity of which is the
chief attraction of the place, Prince Clari's palace, with its noble
and delicious gardens. These latter come as near to perfection in the
peculiar school to which they belong, as any thing of the sort which in
any part of the world I have visited. They are laid out in long
umbrageous walks, in exquisitely kept lawns, in bowers, alcoves, and a
lake at once extensive and well managed; and are, with characteristic
liberality, thrown open to the public at all hours, both of night and
day. Nay, nor is this all. Bands of music play here and there amid its
alcoves; there is a sort of coffee-house or restaurateur within the
gates; and the theatre may almost be said to form part of the
establishment, so close is it planted to the prince's residence. There
is exceeding kindliness of heart shown in all this, of which it is not
easy for us, the creatures of a different education, to estimate aright
the value. We should be bored beyond expression were our parks and
pleasure-grounds thronged from dawn till dusk by kings, princes,
nobles, citizens, and peasants. To the Prince Clari, the consciousness
that it affords the means of innocent recreation to his
fellow-creatures seems to be the chief enjoyment which he derives from
the possession of this lordly residence.
I am not going to describe either the baths themselves, or the customs
which prevail in making use of them. Enough is done when I state that,
in addition to the public establishments, where the humbler classes
take the waters gratuitously, there are somewhere about ninety private
bathing houses in the place, the demand for which, during the height of
the season, is such that you must bespeak your turn at least a day or
two beforehand, and adhere to the appointed minute religiously. For
nobody is allowed to remain in the bathing-room more than
three-quarters of an hour at a time, one quarter out of the four being
claimed as necessary to clean out and prepare the apartment for the
next visiter. The waters, I need scarcely add, belong to the class of
alkalo-saline, and take their rise among the Erzgebirge, or Ore
Mountains, hard by. They are extremely hot, and are regarded as
especially useful in all cases of rheumatic or gouty affections. It is
worthy of remark, that the Austrian medical officers send the
valetudinary among the soldiers to these baths from a very great
distance. When I was there, I saw detachments belonging to almost all
the regiments which occupy quarters in Bohemia; and I was given to
understand that they had come thither as invalids, and would, when
cured, return to their respective stations.
The Germans, though not famous for their hospitality, are proverbially
a gregarious people; and at Töplitz, and indeed at all the
watering-places, they appear to live in public. There are tables-d'hôte
at all the principal hotels, where, both at dinner and supper, the
company meet on terms of the most easy familiarity. To enhance the
pleasure of the feast, moreover, Bohemian minstrels,--not unfrequently
women,--come and sit down in the Saal while you are eating, and sing
and play with equal taste and harmony. While this is going on within,
dense crowds collect about the doors and windows in the street, with
whose proximity,--as the genuine love of music attracts them, and they
are as orderly and well-behaved as the most fastidious could
desire,--no human being is, or can be, annoyed. By-and-by, the meal
comes to a close, and then the guests either sally forth to enjoy the
fresh air in the Prince of Clari's garden, or sit down on benches along
the trottoir, and smoke their pipes as contentedly and joyously as if
they were a thousand miles removed from an Englishman's horror,--the
public eye. I dare say there might be some tincture of prejudice about
me, but I confess that I regretted to see the clergy fall in so freely
with this latter custom. A priest smoking his pipe on a form, in a
public street, beside the window of an inn, did not appear to me to be
quite in his legitimate position.
I did not find that there were any public gaming-houses in Töplitz;
though it was whispered that the practice of gaming was not unknown in
private circles. It may be so; though I am bound to say that I could
perceive no evidences of it. In like manner, a thousand tales were told
of other matters which went forward sedulously, of which it is not
worth while to take notice. But the general impression left upon my
mind by a few days' sojourn in the town was, that it had all the charms
about it which we expect to find in fashionable watering-places, and
that he who could not make himself happy there for a season, must lay
the blame, not upon the scene of other people's enjoyments, but on his
own temper or prejudices. Neither did I relish it the less from finding
that it was very little frequented by my countrymen. There had been but
one English family there before we arrived, and they, I am happy to
say, left an excellent name behind them.
The country between Töplitz and Prague, after you have passed over the
heights of Wachholderberg is not, in a picturesque point of view, very
interesting. The chateau of Krzemusch, with its fine garden, and the
Teufelsmauer, a basaltic precipice hard by, are indeed worth the
expenditure of an hour or two to visit, while the situation of Bilin,
in the valley of Bila, is beautiful. But you soon escape from the
mountains, and then, for many miles, the eye finds little on which it
need pine to linger, more attractive, at least, than a wide extent of
cultivation. The principal towns through which you pass are Laun and
Schlan, neither of them large or very prosperous; the rest are mere
villages. By degrees, however, as you come within what may be described
as the vortex of Prague, a great change is perceptible. The country
becomes much more broken and undulating, while here and there, from the
summit of a hill, elevated above the rest, the view which you command
is both striking and extensive. At last, the White Mountain, as it is
called, lies before you, and by an easy and almost imperceptible
ascent, you arrive at its crest. There it will, indeed, be worth your
while to pause; for a finer scene of its kind you will rarely look down
upon in any country of the world.
Along the shores of the broad Moldau, and climbing, as it were, the
steep hills which girdle it in, Prague lies at your feet. The river,
flowing on with a clear and gentle current, seems to have cut it in
twain. Yet are the characters of these divisions more completely in
unison than in almost any other instance of a city so dealt with which
I remember to have seen. A thousand towers, spires, minarets, and
domes, shed over the whole an air of magnificence which in some sort
partakes of the oriental. There are hanging-gardens, too, and a noble
bridge; there are large and exquisitely wooded islands in the Moldau;
there is the Alt Stadt on the further bank, with its Thein Kirche, or
Tyne Church, celebrated in story, and its venerable Town Hall; there is
the Kleinseite nearer at hand, where streets and squares, crowded with
the residences of the nobles, rise one above another, till they
terminate in the Old Palace, and the unfinished cathedral of St. Vitus;
there is the Neu Stadt, the handiwork of the Emperor Charles IV.,
covering a prodigious extent of ground, and enriched with the convents,
hospitals, and other public buildings, which owe their existence to the
liberality of the Jesuits. There are these, with a background of low,
yet picturesque hills, surmounted here and there by some blackened
ruin, or other monument of times gone by, which make up altogether one
of the most striking inland panoramas on which I have any where had the
good fortune to gaze. We stopped our carriage some minutes in order to
enjoy it; and then pushed forward. At every step which we took in
advance, objects of a varying but not a lessened interest, met us. Now
we passed a monastery, an extensive pile, but evidently of modern
construction; now a convent of English nuns was pointed out to us.
By-and-by the road sank down into a sort of ravine, which shut out all
view except of the fortifications that enclose the city, and block up
the extremity of the defile. Then began signs of active and busy life
to accumulate round us. Countrymen, with their wains, were met or
overtaken; bodies of cavalry, in their stable dresses, were exercising
their horses on the level; here and there an officer in uniform rode
past us; and carriages, in which sat some of Bohemia's fairest and
noblest daughters, swept by. Next came the barrier, the demand for
passports, the drawbridge, over which our wheels rolled heavily; the
exercising ground for the artillery, where a strong brigade of guns was
manoeuvring; a momentary glimpse of the convent of St. Lawrence, and
the old towers of the oldest portion of the palace; after which we saw
nothing distinctly, till our journey, properly so called, had
terminated. For our course lay down a very steep street, and across the
bridge into the Alt Stadt, where at a hotel, rich in all the essentials
of food, and wine, and couches, though somewhat deficient in the
superfluity of cleanliness, we established our head-quarters for a
season.
Perhaps there is no city in the world which, by the air which attaches
to all its arrangements, more completely separates you from the
present, and carries you back into the past, than Prague. There is
nothing in or around it; there is no separate building, nor street, nor
square, within its walls, which is not more or less connected by the
strong link of association with the mightiest and the most enduring
struggle of principle in which the Christian world ever was engaged. Go
where you will, your eye rests on something which speaks to you of a
time when Prague was indeed a capital. Here in the Alt Stadt
stands,--noble in its decay--the old palace of Könighof, the favourite
residence of Charles IV. There is the Tyne or Thein Church, within
which Huss, himself but the successor of Milicius and Stiekna, and even
Janovius the Parisian, denounced the corruptions of Rome; here the same
town-hall, where, by the gallant burghers, the doctrines of the
Reformation were first avowed, and within which, after a long and
desperate effort to maintain them, they were abjured, not I suspect for
ever. But it is not by looking exclusively to what may be called the
great features of the city, that these and similar reminiscences are
awakened. As you traverse the streets, each edifice, be it lordly or
humble, presents to your gaze some record of prouder days. "Here an
armorial device, there a saint, with his golden circlet or burning
lamps, or a half-obliterated fresco, an arched balcony, a fortified
gateway, or an ornamented shrine[1]." I heartily agree with the writer,
from whose spirited Sketches the preceding extract has been taken, that
this old and enduring character of the city is not without its
importance. At a period when every political means is employed to
efface and subdue the national character, when every act of social
life, to be innocent must be Austrian, it is well that there is a power
and a spirit in these unshaken walls, and perennial customs, which must
needs keep the memory of their great origin and former energy fresh in
the hearts of the Bohemian people.
[1] See some admirable sketches of Prague, in the _Metropolitan
Magazine_ for 1836.
Wherever the stranger may have taken up his abode, whether in the Alt
Stadt, the Neu Stadt, the Kleinseite, or in one of the suburbs, the
first objects which he is tempted to visit will naturally be the palace
of the Hradschin, and the old cathedral. If, as is probable, he has
established himself in the Alt Stadt, it will be necessary, in order to
reach these points, that he should cross the bridge,--a magnificent
structure, which like almost all the most enduring monuments of human
skill in the city, owes its existence to Charles IV. It measures not
less than 1780 feet in length; it is supported upon twelve noble
arches; it is protected at either extremity by embattled towers,--in
their day, without doubt, very efficient _têtes du pont_, and to
adorn its parapets on either hand, it has the statues of many saints,
with more than one crucifix and two chapels. Among these watchers over
the temporal and spiritual prosperity of Bohemia, St. John of Nepomuc
holds a conspicuous place. Being now in an especial manner the guardian
of bridges, his position here is more honoured than that even of the
Virgin herself: he occupies the very centre of the pile, and may be
distinguished from the rest by the five stars which glitter in their
gilding round him; yet is his canonization an event of little more than
a century's growth. He was set up by the Jesuits in 1729, in opposition
to St. John Huss, to whom the Bohemians, for many years after the
suppression of the Protestant worship among them, continued to pay
saintly honours; and he continues to this day, in the reverence with
which he is everywhere greeted,--a sort of galling and vexatious,
because constantly-recurring memorial, of the system of mental
thraldom, under which Bohemia has long groaned.
From the bridge, you pass by a noble street, where churches and stately
mansions woo you on either hand, up the steep ascent of the Hradschin;
the summit of which will be most speedily, and therefore comfortably,
attained, if you mount a flight of stone steps that faces you after you
have made a slight turn to the right. They conduct at once to the sort
of platform on which stand the old and new palaces, the cathedral, the
lodgings of the canons, and the residences of some of the official
personages to whose charge these buildings are committed. Of the
cathedral, I have already said, that it never was completed. According
to the traditions of the place, this is, indeed, the third pile which,
consecrated to the worship of the true God, has graced the brow of the
Hradschin; but the two first were entirely destroyed by fire, and this,
begun by Charles IV., remains exactly as, in 1380, his architects,
Matthew of Arras, and Peter Arlieri, left it. It is an extremely
beautiful specimen of the sort of Gothic which preceded that of the
date of our own Henry VII., and is surmounted by a lantern-crown,
similar in its character, and not very different in its dimensions,
from that which is to be seen on the tower of St. Giles's in Edinburgh.
Yet is the pile, when spoken of as a cathedral, a very sorry edifice,
for the choir is all, of his own noble plan, which Charles was
permitted to complete, and there has arisen no king of Bohemia since
his day, who has cared to bring the work to a conclusion. At the same
time, both the choir, and the unfinished chapels that surround it, are
strikingly beautiful. The former, emblazoned within with the shields of
the house of Hapsburg, with the armorial bearings of Bohemia, Hungary,
Styria, Moravia, Burgundy, Spain, and Brabant, more resembles the
private chapel of a prince, than the metropolitical church of a nation;
while the latter, crowded with memorials of other and earlier days,
were, at least by us, regarded with still deeper and holier interest.
One of these, the chapel of St. Wenceslas, the fourth Christian duke of
Bohemia, has its walls inlaid with native jasper, agate, and other
precious stones, and adorned with frescoes, inferior, in point of
merit, to none which this century has produced. They are attributed,
some to Nicholas Wurmser of Strasburg, some to Dietrich of Prague, two
of the most renowned artists of their day, who with many others,
received at the hands of Charles, the most liberal patronage and
encouragement. Moreover, the exterior of the wall, which looks towards
the palace, is richly ornamented with mosaics. Many of the old
Slavonian saints are there, such as St. Sigismond, St. Procopius, St.
Vitus, St. Wenceslas, and others finely grouped together; while above
them is a St. Veronica head of Christ, which would not disgrace St.
Mark's in Venice itself.
From the cathedral to the palace is but a step. Though called old in
contradistinction to a modern edifice which confronts it, and which the
emperor, when he visits his Bohemian capital, usually occupies, this
building, in almost all its portions, is of a date not more ancient
than the fourteenth century. The Hall of Ladislas, with two or three
towers near the postern, belong, indeed, to the original building, but
the remainder of the pile, with the cathedral beside it, uprose at the
bidding of Charles IV. Nothing can exceed the splendour of the view
which you obtain from the windows of its apartments. The whole of
Prague is beneath you. There lies the Kleinseite, with the great cupola
of St. Nicholas, a church of the Jesuits, in the foreground: there is
Wallenstein's palace, gathered round the base of the rock, and
testifying to the enormous wealth and princely expenditure of its
founder;--here, on the right, is the Lobkowitz palace, with its
gardens, rising step by step upon the side of the adjacent hill, over
which, like a diadem, stands the Premonstratensian convent of
Strahow,--an edifice imperfect in its proportions, yet as a whole
strikingly effective. From these, the eye turns naturally to the
Moldau, with its noble bridge and islands of perfect beauty; while
beyond it are the Alt Stadt, and a vast circle of suburbs,--the former,
venerable and striking from its multitudinous towers, its one great
cupola, and its peaked roofs; the latter, contrasting finely with it in
the simplicity of its large yet unadorned white buildings. Neither will
the stranger fail to have pointed out to him, the two small obelisks,
which, on a narrow terrace immediately below the palace, mark the spot
where Martinitz and Slawata fell, when, at the commencement of the
Thirty Years' War, they were thrown out of the windows of the Green
Chamber. And it is worthy of remark, that this summary mode of dealing
with obnoxious individuals, is by no means unfrequently alluded to in
the annals of Bohemia. These two emissaries of a detested party
escaped, indeed, unhurt; for they fell upon a bed of manure, and were
carried off, and nursed, and aided in their subsequent flight by the
Princess Penelope of Lobkowitz. But throughout the Hussite troubles,
and in times anterior to them, the right of putting to death by casting
from towers and over windows, was claimed and exercised by those in
power; nay, and more curious still, it was justified before the world
as a constitutional privilege.
As I have already stated, the remains of the Old Palace, properly so
called, comprehend no more than a single hall, the Hall of Ladislas,
and a few dilapidated towers, in one of which is the Green Room. There
is not much therefore, apart from the glorious view, and the historical
associations connected with it, to detain the traveller long, who may,
or may not, just as the humour takes him, pay a visit in passing, to
what is called the gallery of paintings. He will find there no remains
whatever of the magnificent collection which the Emperor Rodolph
brought from Italy, and very few pieces, the examination of which will
repay him for the time that he wastes upon them. Yet one ludicrous
representation of hell may, perhaps, provoke a smile; and the portrait
of Ziska, whether like to the original or otherwise, as it is pointed
out by the valet du place with honest pride, so is it sure to put in
its claim to more than a passing notice. For Ziska was among the great
ones of the earth. It is probable, therefore, that he will pass, as I
did, rapidly into the New Palace, of which several of the apartments
are very fine, and all have at least something about them which
interests. Here is the audience-room, for example, where the emperor
holds his levees, or receives such petitions as his loving subjects may
find an opportunity of presenting. Here, likewise, is the Hall of
Assembly for the States,--a plain apartment, adjoining to the
audience-chamber, and communicating with it by a private door. For the
States appear to go through the form of meeting at appointed seasons,
and of voting,--all the privilege which they now enjoy,--such a sum as
the crown may think fit to require. The concert-room, also, and the
ball-room, and indeed the whole suite which royalty is assumed to
occupy, may be visited with advantage; and the views from their several
windows are superb. I do not, however, advise anybody to linger here;
for there is much to be seen, and examined, and inquired into
elsewhere, and in conducting such researches, unless time be absolutely
at our own disposal, even moments are of value.
Being duly impressed with the importance of this truth, my travelling
companion and I made our sojourn in the New Palace as brief as was
consistent with a moderate gratification of the feeling which led us to
visit it at all. We then wound round the rear of the hill; and
descending into a sort of ravine, just outside the ramparts, found
ourselves in an exceedingly beautiful public garden. It was full of
company, who passed to and fro, or sat in groups upon benches, under
the shade of the trees, and sipped their lemonade, or ate their ices,
while listening to a couple of bands, which discoursed very eloquent
music. Altogether the scene was extremely pleasing and gay, yet we did
not venture to enjoy it. So as we turn our backs upon it, let me cease,
for a while, to write in the first person, that I may the more
effectively deal with the somewhat grave and important matters, which
it has become necessary to discuss.
I have alluded to the three grand compartments into which Prague is
divided, namely, the Kleinseite, the Alt Stadt, and the Neu Stadt. Of
the first as much has been said as is necessary for my present purpose;
because, though it be the residence of the bulk of the nobility, and
can boast of more than one superb church, whatever there may be of
historic interest about it, links itself almost exclusively with the
Hradschin. In the Alt Stadt, on the contrary, we find, in addition to
the Tyne Church and the Town Hall, the Carolinum, or college in which
medical, legal, and scientific education is carried on; and the
Clementinum, a great seminary for the diffusion of theological and
philosophical lore. They are all that remain of the University of
Prague, at one period the most celebrated in Europe; and having been
renewed--the former, at least,--so recently as 1744, even the traces of
the architectural arrangements which once belonged to them, are
obliterated. Still they demand inspection, of which the labour will be
compensated, as well by a survey of the magnificent halls and rich
collections which adorn them, as on account of the train of thought to
which insensibly they give rise. It is to the latter, as they connect
themselves with the past and present history of the country, that I
wish, on this occasion, to confine myself.
The establishment of an university in the capital of Bohemia, was the
work of the Emperor Charles IV. It was founded in 1348, just one year
after Charles ascended the throne; and consisted, when complete, of
eight colleges; of which the constitution seems, in every respect, to
have corresponded with that of the similar establishments in Oxford and
Cambridge. Of these, the Collegium Magnum was endowed by Charles
himself for a master and twelve fellows; the Collegium Reginæ Hedvigis
obtained its revenues from Queen Hedwige, of Poland, the enlightened
founder of the Jagellonian University at Cracow; while, in 1451, the
College of the Apostles was endowed for the maintenance of students,
whose exclusive business it should be to maintain the rights which the
church in Bohemia had acquired by the famous Compacta Basilicana. Of
these it is necessary that some notice should be taken.
Perhaps there is nothing connected with the annals of the Romish church
more remarkable, than the early and rooted aversion exhibited both to
its doctrines and its ceremonies, by that very province in the Austrian
empire which is now, more than all others, given over to Popery.
According to the best authenticated records, the conversion of the
Bohemians to Christianity took place about the middle of the ninth
century, or still later; and within less than a hundred years we find
them in rebellion against the supreme pontiff, because the Latin tongue
was employed in the celebration of divine worship, and celibacy was
enjoined upon the clergy. The adoption of a Latin ritual was, however,
forced upon Duke Wratislaus, by Gregory VII., who declared that there
was a prohibition in Holy Writ, against the use of any other language
in addresses made to the Deity. This was in the year 1070. But though
the Bohemians yielded so far to an authority which they knew not how to
controvert, their firmness, in reference to the celibacy of the clergy,
was not so easily overcome. The legate who brought to Prague a bull to
this effect in 1197, was set upon by the populace, and stoned to death.
Republican and imperial Rome were not more persevering in their
encroachments on the civil rights and liberties of the barbarians, than
was religious Rome in her endeavour to establish an universal dominion
over the consciences of mankind. One step gained in advance, proved, in
every case, but the prelude to another; and the establishment of a
Latin ritual and an unmarried clergy, was soon followed by the refusal
of the cup in the administration of the Lord's Supper to the laity. In
1350, the cup was withdrawn. Then rose John Milicius, a canon of
Prague, and Conrad Stiekna, his friend, to protest by speech and
writing, against the measures pursued by the Pope, and to denounce him
as Antichrist in the hearing of a multitude, who listened to their
teaching very eagerly. By-and-by, that is, in 1370, Matthias Janovius,
the confessor of Charles IV., came to their support in the battle; and
in several treatises, which displayed great skill as well as vigour,
the Pope was by him denounced. But Charles, though far in advance of
his age, was not sufficiently enlightened to adopt the opinions of his
confessor. He refused to call a general council on the plea, that the
right of so doing was vested in the Pope; and the Pope finally
prevailed upon him to send Matthias into banishment. From the period of
Matthias' death, which happened in 1394, the Reformers, now a numerous
and influential body, began to suffer persecution; and the strong arm
of power endeavoured, for a while, to accomplish what fair and open
controversy had failed to bring about.
Such was the condition of affairs, when a wealthy and pious citizen of
Prague, a German, however, by descent, laid the foundations of a church
in the Alt Stadt, which he called the Temple of Bethlehem; to it, now
the Tyne Church, John Huss, already celebrated for his oratory and
extensive learning, was appointed preacher. He saw the corruption of
the age, and was not slow in denouncing it. For a while his rebukes
were applied exclusively to the laity, who complained to the king of
the preacher's insolence; and the archbishop was, in consequence,
requested either to silence or at least to restrain his violence. But
the archbishop, as well as the clergy at large, were as yet Huss's
admirers; and the king was informed, that as John, in rebuking vice
without regard to persons, did not go beyond the spirit of his
ordination vow, so there was no power in man to restrain him.
By-and-by, however, Huss adventured into a new field, and the vices of
the priesthood were dragged to light. This was neither so convenient
nor so agreeable: and the archbishop became, in his turn, the
complainant; but the king would pay no heed to the prelate's
remonstrances, further than to meet them with the same reply which the
pastors now complaining had, on a former occasion, directed to himself:
"Huss is but acting up to the spirit of his ordination vow. He is
clearly worked upon by inspiration from heaven,--he must, on no
account, be molested." Thus were the minds of the people kept on the
stretch, and the way was paved for still greater operations, which soon
began to develop themselves.
About this time arrived from England Jerome of Prague, bringing with
him copies of the writings of Wickliff, which he was not backward in
getting translated into the vernacular language, and circulated far and
near. By-and-by came two Englishmen, bachelors of divinity, from
Oxford, who disputing boldly against the Pope's supremacy, drew great
crowds after them. Though silenced by public authority, they did not,
therefore, cease to wage a war of extermination against antichrist.
They were tolerable limners, so they composed a painting, which, like
the shield in the story, had a two-fold character; for, on one side, it
represented Christ and his Apostles, as these are described in the
Gospels; and, on the other, the Pope and his Cardinals, as they appear
in their pride of place. This they suspended to the outer wall of their
lodging; and if there were none to listen to the words of their
preaching, there were thousands who came to admire the production of
their skill. Moreover, Huss, who perfectly understood the object of
their attempt, and entirely coincided with it, made frequent reference
to their work of art in his discourses. In a word, the seed was sown;
and but a little while elapsed ere the plant sprang up and bore fruit.
The constitution of the University of Prague so far resembled that of
our Scottish universities, that in it were recognised those differences
of nations, with which the students of Glasgow and Aberdeen are
familiar; there being, however, this difference in the arrangements of
the two seminaries: that, whereas the nations in Glasgow find their
boundaries on the Forth and the Clyde, two native rivers, those of
Prague took a much more extended range. There were, first, the
Bohemians, under which head were comprised all natives of Bohemia, of
Moravia, of Hungary, and Slavonia. There were, second, the Bavarians,
including Bavarians Proper, Austrians, Franconians, and Suabians. There
were, third, the Saxons: that is, Saxons, Danes, and Swedes. And, last
of all, the Poles, or Poles, Russians, and Lithuanians. If students
came from other lands, they were not rejected; but under one or other
of these heads they must needs be ranged. With an excess of liberality
which sometimes overshoots its mark, Charles had given to these several
nations an equality of influence in the management of the affairs of
the university; and the consequence was, that, as far as the decisions
of that learned body might control it, public opinion in Bohemia, was
guided not by native scholars, but by foreigners. In the religious
controversy which now agitated the minds of men it was impossible that
the university should stand neuter. The nations met,--Bohemia declared
for the Wickliffites, Bavaria, Saxony, and Poland against them; and
numbers, of course, prevailed. But the triumph of Popery was
short-lived, even in the university. Huss exerted himself with such
vigour, that the foreigners were deprived of their preponderancy, and
the Carolinum, under his guidance, became henceforth the great bulwark
of the Reformed opinions.
While ardently combating the errors to which she gave countenance, it
does not appear that, either now or afterwards, Huss entertained a
wish--far less a desire--to break off from the communion of the holy
Catholic Church. Both he and his fellow-labourers were quite as much in
earnest as any of those by whom the work of the Reformation came, in
after-years, to be perfected. Yet were they influenced throughout by
principles more settled than belonged to some, and by a genuine and
righteous liberality of which others knew nothing. That, however, which
their gentleness would have willingly averted, the violence of their
enemies brought about. The Church of Rome could not, or would not,
depend upon argument. She opposed to the reasoning of the Hussites the
rack and the cord; and Bohemia became, in consequence, the scene of
persecutions,--of which to read the record is at once painful and
humiliating. The martyrdoms of Huss and Jerome were followed by an
universal attack upon those who called them masters; and the priest
with the layman, the wife with her husband, the child with its parent,
sealed their faith with their blood.
From the first dawn of the Reformation in Bohemia, there were among the
Reformers two parties, which came, in course of time, to be
respectively known as the Calixtines and the Taborites. The demands of
the Calixtines were exceeding moderate; they sought only that the cup
should be dispensed to the laity in the communion; that the clergy
should be deprived of secular authority; that the Word of God should be
freely taught; and that sins publicly committed, should, in public, be
reproved. This fourth claim, be it observed, struck at the root of all
that influence which the Romish clergy derived from the practice of
secret and auricular confession; while the third aimed at a remodelling
of the liturgical services, by the substitution of the vernacular for
the Latin language in prayer. Yet were they considered by the Taborites
as coming far short of what the exigencies of the case required. These
latter, indeed, the Covenanters and Puritans of their day, saw nothing
in the Romish church except one mass of corruption. Her rites, her
ceremonies, her polity, her constitution, all were odious in their
eyes; and to hold friendly communication with her, on any subject
whatever, was, according to their view of religion, to bring the
accursed thing into their houses. Accordingly, while the Calixtines
endeavoured to soothe and conciliate, the Taborites rushed to arms; and
under Ziska, their renowned leader, achieved triumphs such as attend
only on the exertions of men whose actuating principle is a strong
religious fanaticism.
The career of Ziska, his ferocity and his zeal, are well known. John
Chevalier von Trocznow and Machowitz (for such was his real name),
enjoyed both rank and fortune in Bohemia; he was nobly born, held large
possessions, and had greatly distinguished himself in war long before
he adopted the opinions of the Taborites. He was called Ziska, or the
one-eyed, because in his great battle with the Teutonic knights in
1410, a wound deprived him partially of sight, and he became, during
the religious contests that followed the martyrdom of Huss, totally
blind. Yet blind as he was, and led out to war, like King John at the
battle of Cressy, between two horsemen, he continued not only to fight,
but to arrange plans of campaign, and to direct the movements of armies
with equal judgment and effect; and he died as he had lived, in
unmitigated hostility towards the pope, the Emperor Sigismond, and all
their adherents. The degree of reverence in which his memory continues
to be held, testifies to the sort of influence which he must have
excited while living. There is no end to the tales which the Bohemians
love to tell of his bodily strength and prowess. His favourite
weapon--a sort of club, or spiked mace,--is shown with extreme pride;
and the tree under which he is said to have slept on the night previous
to his battle with the emperor, continues, to this hour, to command
that species of reverence which borders at least upon superstition. In
a word, Ziska appears greatly to have resembled, in more than one
particular, that Balfour of Burley whom Sir Walter Scott has described,
and his fame is still cherished as a national possession, probably
because the principles for which he contended have not, like those of
which Balfour was the champion, obtained even a modified toleration.
What the arms neither of Ziska nor of Procopius could win, the
moderation and talent of John of Rokysan succeeded in procuring. After
a long and fierce war, during which excessive barbarities were
practised on both sides, the Council of Basle met in 1433. John of
Rokysan, one of the most popular among the Hussite divines, attended
there to plead the cause of his party, and for a space of nearly two
months, the four points of which I have spoken as claimed by the
Calixtines, were debated. But for the present, no results ensued. The
papists would yield nothing, and John and his brother delegates
returned home. But the popish party, taught wisdom by experience,
abstained from a renewed appeal to the sword till they had thrown the
apple of discord among their adversaries, and weakened by dividing
them. In this, however, they succeeded only in part; so that
ultimately, that is, in 1436, the use of the cup was conceded; and
visions of religious peace were, for a while, fondly encouraged in
Bohemia.
It was during the interval between this happy consummation and the
accession of Ferdinand I. to the throne, that certain events took place
which seem to me to demand a moment's notice. John of Rokysan, though a
zealous reformer in principle, was yet unwilling to break the bond of
ecclesiastical union, or, as his enemies assert, was desirous of
gratifying two passions at the same time, by uniting the character of a
reformer to that of an archbishop in a well-endowed church. The better
to conciliate both the pope and the emperor, he had dealt harshly with
the Taborites, who, rejecting the terms offered them, had withstood and
sustained a defeat from the Calixtines. He found, however, that after
the council had decided in his favour, his election to the See of
Prague was made by the pope contingent on his renunciation of the
privileges just granted to Bohemia. He felt greatly and naturally
indignant at the proposal; and under the influence of this feeling,
determined to withdraw the church of Bohemia from all dependence on
that of Rome. That the church of a single nation could stand alone,
however, no communion being held with other churches, seemed then as
far beyond the range of possibility, as that a branch torn from the
parent tree would flourish; and John, whose principle in this respect
was deeply-rooted, cast his eyes in the direction of Constantinople. I
am not aware that of this fact, the notice has been taken by
ecclesiastical historians which it deserves; yet is it certain, that
for two whole years, the reformers of Bohemia were in communication
with the patriarch, and that there came to Prague delegates with full
powers to admit Bohemia into the bosom of the Greek church. They were
never called upon to exercise these powers. Their ceremonies,--more
offensively superstitious than those of Rome herself,--gave extreme
umbrage to the Hussites, and the matter which they had been
commissioned to effect, fell to the ground.
It was at this juncture that the final separation between the Taborites
and the Calixtines took place. The former renounced all connexion with
Rome, and for awhile laid aside their very priesthood. The latter
continued, in name, the children of that church, whose favourite,
because most oppressive, edicts they disobeyed. Not that popery was
without its adherents in Bohemia all this while; on the contrary, these
were very numerous, and they included a large proportion of the
hierarchy, as well as many of the nobles. But the university, as it had
early adopted Huss's opinions, so it continued steadily, yet mildly, to
maintain them. Throughout the wars that marked the commencement of this
strife of opinion, the Carolinum was ever present to assuage the
rancour of parties. It withstood absolute popery on the one hand, and
absolute fanaticism on the other. And when the war ceased, and George
of Podiebrad mounted the throne, it gave all its influence to a
government of which the policy throughout was just, and wise, and
temperate.
Acted upon by the efforts of this seat of learning, the Taborites
themselves became gradually tame. They accused John of Rokysan, it is
true, of having betrayed them, because he would not place himself at
the head of the schism; and they held aloof from familiar intercourse
with their rivals; but they made no appeal to the sword. Accordingly
John became their advocate with the new monarch, and ample toleration
was extended to them. With this they were satisfied. They withdrew into
the mountains, built villages and places of worship, and never
addressing each other except as brother or sister, they came,
by-and-by, to be known every where as the Bohemian or Moravian
brethren. Simple in their habits, and primitive in their ideas, they
soon ceased to be objects of terror to the government; and being left
to themselves, became, by degrees, at once the most industrious and
honest portion of the population. Moreover, the anomaly in the
constitution of their church, which at the outset, had been little
thought of, began by degrees to make itself felt. They had no appointed
teachers or ministers among them; and there was confusion in their very
worship. Their chiefs determined to remove the evil; and seventy of
them, from Moravia as well as Bohemia, meeting together, cast lots on
whom the priestly office should devolve. Three men, Matthew of Kunwald,
Thomas of Przelan, and Eli of Krzenovitch, were chosen; who repairing
to a settlement of the Waldenses,--of whom numbers were scattered over
Austria and Moravia,--received from the hands of Stephen, one of their
bishops, episcopal consecration. From them the brethren derived that
apostolical priesthood, which has never since died out, and of which
the most perfect model is now to be seen at Hernhut, in Silesia.
Thus fared it with the Reformed religion and its professors in Bohemia,
till Ferdinand I. ascended the throne. There was tranquillity, at
least, and toleration, under Ladislaus of Poland, and an anxiety
expressed everywhere, that the language of controversy might cease; and
that the cultivation of letters, which more than a century of civil
strife had interrupted, might again occupy men's minds, and soften and
humanize their spirits. But Ferdinand had no part in this virtuous
longing. Whether it was the influence of his brother, the Emperor
Charles V., or his own innate hatred of the institutions of Bohemia,
that swayed him, is a question not easily answered, if, indeed, it
were worth asking,--but it is not. The promises which he had given so
liberally when elected, were all disregarded so soon as he felt himself
secure; and Bohemia, which ought to have thrown her weight into the
scale of the Protestant princes, was kept, at the period of the league
of Smalcalde, in a state of fatal neutrality. She could not wield her
power against men to whom she was bound by all the ties of sympathy and
communion of principle; for by this time, the Lutheran doctrines were
taught in her churches, and openly maintained in her university.
Neither would the diet consent that an army should be marched into
Saxony. It was a balance of antagonist principles which proved fatal in
its results to her own liberties, both civil and religious. The battle
of Mühlberg gave to Charles and Ferdinand a superiority which they
failed not to improve. The Bloody Diet sat in Prague; and nobles, and
knights, and even cities forfeited their privileges and their property;
and the two former, at least, in many instances, their lives.
There remained now but one bulwark of the Reformed faith in
Bohemia,--the Caroline University, and against it the efforts of the
dominant faction were directed. It was a sore grievance to the court
and the popish nobility, that a weapon so powerful as education should
be exclusively in the hands of schismatics; so they resolved to
counter-work it. With this view, the aid of the Jesuits was called in;
and twelve fathers of the order of Loyola took possession, in 1555, of
the Clementinum College. At first their unpopularity was such, that
they never ventured to show themselves in the streets without being
insulted. Yet they pursued their course with unwearied assiduity; and
patience, and a mild demeanour, and an anxiety to conciliate even the
taste for shows which prevailed then, as well as now, among the
citizens, gradually produced their results. The Jesuits were first
tolerated, and by-and-by respected in Prague. Moreover the college was
raised to the rank of a university, in which theology and philosophy
might be taught; and they received from day to day an accession to
their numbers. Still the fame of the Carolinum, or Protestant seminary,
surpassed that of the modern university, as far as the Jesuits
individually surpassed the Protestant teachers in urbanity of manner;
and hence, though personally tolerated, the latter continued as a party
to be objects of extreme suspicion. And so things remained, till the
issue of the Thirty Years' War threw all power into the hands of the
Catholics, and religious freedom, and civil liberty, became words
without meaning in Bohemia.
I have spoken of the house of Austria as indicating from the outset of
its connexion with Bohemia, a spirit of decided hostility to the
institutions of the country. From this general censure, two, and for a
brief space at least, three princes of the line must, indeed, be
excepted. Maximilian had no sooner mounted the throne, in 1564, than he
proclaimed the most ample religious toleration. The Compacta
Basilicana, which had heretofore protected the Utraquists alone, were
set aside, and all sects were permitted to worship God, according to
the dictates of their own consciences. The consequence was, that a
large portion of the people became, with the university, avowedly
Protestant, and adopted, some the Augsburg Confession as their standard
of belief,--others, the opinions of Calvin. In like manner, Rodolph
II., and after his deposition, Matthias, stood forth as the champions
of absolute freedom of opinion. They looked to matters of more
importance than the squabbles of sophists; they laboured to advance the
prosperity of their people, and they succeeded. The interval between
1564 and 1610, may, indeed, be described as the golden age of Bohemian
history. Then did the diet exercise a sound and constitutional control
over the supplies and general policy of the government. Then was the
condition of the peasant improved, his proverbial industry encouraged,
and himself permitted to share largely in its fruits. There were, in
fact, as many elements of civil and religious liberty in Bohemia then
as in England;--how wide is the contrast which the one nation offers to
the other now!
It would have been strange, indeed, had princes who were wise enough to
know, that a monarch's greatness is best enhanced by the prosperity of
the people over whom he reigns, failed to give ample encouragement, at
the same time, to learning and to the arts. Under Rodolph the halls of
the Hradschin were adorned, with the productions of the best masters,
which he purchased in Italy, and brought with him into Bohemia. His
court, likewise, became a centre of attraction, round which Tycho
Brahe, Kepler, and other foreigners of high renown, were gathered;
while the native nobility, catching the impulse which their sovereign
afforded, devoted themselves, in numerous instances, to the cultivation
of letters and of science. There are several histories yet extant,
which came from the pens of Rodolph's courtiers; while the same class
gave professors and teachers, not only to the university, but to many
of the most distinguished seminaries in Italy and Germany. Moreover,
schools were multiplied both in Prague and elsewhere with unwearying
zeal; till, in addition to the sixteen which flourished in the capital,
there were at Laun, Salz, Klattau, Leitmeritz, and Chrudim, seminaries,
each of which was presided over by a master, of whose fitness to
communicate sound and wholesome learning, the Carolinum itself had
approved. And it is worthy of remark, that one great object of which
these promoters of mental culture never lost sight, was the improvement
and extension of their native tongue. There was no country in Europe
which could boast of so many statesmen, historians, and professors, by
whom the vernacular language was habitually employed, as Bohemia. The
printing-office of the Moravian brethren, of which Charles of Zierotin
was the founder, multiplied copies of the Bible in the Bohemian tongue.
In the same dialect, Radowsky of Husterzan put forth his treatise on
astronomy. John of Hdiejouna used it as well as Charles of Zierotin,
and Hajek, Dembrawricky, Wartowsky, and Blahoslaw, all demonstrated its
fitness for the purposes of the chronicler. In a word, Bohemia was
great, and flourishing, and happy; and her prosperity rested on a basis
which, if wisely dealt with, must have rendered it as enduring as it
was conspicuous.
Every movement on the part of the people had for its object, the
establishment of a perfect nationality in Bohemia;--the leaning of the
court was, perhaps naturally, towards Austrianism. Maximilian, Rodolph
II., and for a time Matthias, gave, indeed, no countenance to the
latter; but Matthias's constancy seems, in the end, to have been
overcome. The Jesuits never ceased to keep in view the ultimate
ascendancy of their own order, and they quite understood that to
accomplish this, it would be necessary to crush the spirit of
independence in Bohemia altogether. Both parties took the alarm; each
made its movement to counteract the other, and the results were such as
I have described. The Emperor Matthias, supported by the Catholic
nobility and the Jesuits of the Clementinum, insisted on nominating his
own successor, in the person of Ferdinand II.; the States, to which
adhered the Carolinum, and all that were Protestants in Bohemia,
protested against so gross a violation of their rights. Then followed
an insurrection, the expulsion of the Jesuits from the kingdom, and a
demand that neither the university nor any other seminary of education,
should again be subject to the control of that order. And finally began
that terrible struggle which crushed the liberties, as well civil as
religious, of the Bohemians. For Ferdinand, not content to scotch the
snake, never rested till it had ceased to be. The Carolinum, with all
its endowments, privileges, and libraries, was handed over to its
rival. Protestantism was declared to be extinct; and the gibbet, and
the stake, and confiscations, and banishments, rendered the decree, in
due time, more than an idle boast. There is, probably, no instance on
record of an extirpation of a religious creed more absolute than that
which the Jesuits effected of Protestantism in Bohemia. It was entirely
put out, and has never since so far revived, as to embrace
one-hundredth part of the population within the compass of its rays.
From the close of the war the University of Prague assumed the title of
the Carlo-Ferdinandian Institution. In one of its branches,
indeed,--the Carolinum,--the professors' chairs stood vacant for twelve
years, and the building itself was shut up. But at the termination of
that period it was reopened, and it has continued ever since to be the
seminary in which instruction in the faculties of law and of medicine
is communicated. For theology, and moral and abstract philosophy, on
the other hand, the student must needs repair to the Clementinum; over
which, till the suppression of the order by Joseph II., the Jesuits
presided. Nor has the downfall of that most ambitious and subtle body,
worked any important change in the constitution of the university. The
Carolinum is still the laymen's college; the Clementinum the place of
education for the divine,--who seems to be returning, with rapid
strides, at least in Prague, to what he used to be while yet Jesuitism
was in full vigour.
Such is an outline of the great historical events of which a visit to
these two edifices is sure to remind the traveller. Of the buildings
themselves, as well as of the system of education that is pursued
within their walls, I have very little to say. The Carolinum, entirely
remodelled by the Jesuits, retains no resemblance, even in its external
features, to what it was at the period when Huss presided over its
affairs. It is a handsome pile, doubtless; but all traces of its Gothic
architecture are swept away, and in its very dimensions it is changed.
The Clementinum, on the contrary, has grown, both in importance and
bulk; for it occupies the site of two churches, of a Dominican convent,
and of several streets and squares, which were pulled down in order to
make room for it. Of its noble halls the interior decoration is
altogether Italian; and its library, its museum, its cabinets, and
scientific collections, are, at least, worth seeing.
Education in Bohemia, as well as in the other provinces of the Austrian
empire, goes on under the strict and unceasing surveillance of the
police. The clergy, in spite of what travellers assert to the contrary,
have no control over it at all; except so far as they may possess
influence enough with the government to recommend such text-books as
are adopted in the various seminaries. It was whispered, indeed, in
Prague, that since the accession of the present emperor, the clergy
have, in this respect, made large strides upwards; and it is very
certain that Jesuitism is not what it was some years ago,--a profession
which men esteemed it prudent to conceal. But however this may be, as
the nomination to vacant chairs in the university is vested in the
Board of Education at Vienna, so by the head of the police it is
determined by what process eminent philosophers, and divines, and
lawyers, shall be fabricated. In like manner the period of attendance
on each class,--or, to speak more accurately, the space of time which
is necessary to complete an academical course,--is not left either to
the discretion of the professors, or to the talent and industry of
their pupils. In the first place, the youth, to be admitted, must show
that he has attended one of the public schools for three years, at the
least. He must bring with him also a slender stock of German,
arithmetic, mathematics, Greek, and Latin; which for six years more he
labours only to increase. Then comes a fresh distribution of the
students, who, throughout these protracted periods, have gone on
together; but, who now pass off into the schools of law, and medicine,
and divinity, according to the nature of the professions for which they
are respectively intended. The candidates for the cope and the judge's
chair complete the course in four years more. From the incipient
Esculapius six years professional study is demanded. It is worthy of
remark, that not a single lecture is delivered in the vernacular
language of the country. German is, indeed, employed, where Latin may
have grown into disrepute; but the Bohemian is a dialect of which the
use seems restricted to the very lowest and most despised of the
peasantry.
It would be idle to conceal that the extreme vigilance of the
government in these respects, and, still more, its bigoted hostility to
everything which might recall the recollection of Bohemian independence,
has given great umbrage to the thinking portion of the people. I have
conversed with persons in every rank, and I found none who spoke of it
except in bitterness. But it is not by these means alone that the house
of Austria endeavours to shield its Bohemian subjects from the infection
of liberalized opinions. I had intrusted to me, before leaving London,
an English book, which I was to forward or deliver to a gentleman of
rank in the country. He would not send for it by the hands of a common
messenger. He came in person many miles to receive it, "Because," said
he, "one does not know what may happen, and it is best to avoid
collision with the police." The book was a very harmless one,--it was
only the first volume of Lockhart's _Life of Sir Walter Scott_; but my
friend did not consider that it would be prudent to make a parade of
its reception. Again, I visited a gentleman in Prague, and found upon
his table a number of the _Foreign Quarterly Review_. There was an
article in it which bore upon the existing condition of Bohemia,--an
able paper, on the whole, though here and there inaccurate. I conversed
with him about it; and, having an hour to spare, I accepted his offer
to carry it to my hotel, and there read it. "When you send it back,"
said he, "be so good as wrap it carefully up in paper. We don't know
where we are safe, in this country; and your _Foreign Quarterly_ is
not one of the favoured publications which we are licensed to import."
What a pitiable state of existence is this,--what a perfect bondage of
_mind_, for which the utmost security to person and property can never
make amends.