From a Terrace in Prague

by B. Granville Baker

To the Government the late patron saint of Bohemia was of some economic value; what his spiritual value is time will tell. Holy Church can always afford to wait.

John Hus has just been mentioned. He passes before us in the pageant of the Charles Bridge. Wenceslaus IV knew this fervent soul who came up to Prague from his humble home in Southern Bohemia, and arrived at his M.A. degree in 1396, eventually to become Rector of the University. It is possibly indirectly through Wenceslaus that Hus became acquainted with the writings and teachings of Wycliffe. Wenceslaus frequently corresponded on the subject of Church Reform, on the recognition of Urban VI as Pope, and other cognate matters, with his brother-in-law, Richard II of England, and no doubt sister Anne added a line to her husband's letters. Now Anne, we know, had already been deeply impressed by Wycliffe's teaching; his writings had been known and treasured in Prague for some time. John Hus had certainly studied them, and he was an ardent advocate of Church Reform. We also find that he had a friend in that long-suffering Queen Sophie, wife of Wenceslaus; he was even for a time her father-confessor. We see John Hus pass on his way through the storms of controversy to the pyre at which he perished by the faithlessness of an Emperor, Sigismund, younger brother of Wenceslaus, and also some time King of Bohemia. Then again we see the fire that destroyed John Hus's body at Constance reflected time and again, angrily, in the waters of the Vltava; the Hussites were out and, as we have seen, were destroying by fire. So we see the Bishop's palace in flames, the Church of "St. Mary under the Chain," and many of the old houses on the Mala Strana. The same fate, but not by the same agents, befell the old Gothic tower you see standing up above that quaint congerie of buildings below you as you look upstream at the Old Town end of the bridge. Here is the old water tower dating back through many vicissitudes to 1489, and below it are the buildings of the Old Town mill, which are also of venerable age.

Religious dissensions, strife and turmoil, marked the days when Sigismund reigned over Bohemia and also the Holy Roman Empire; there were at one time three rival Emperors, also three Popes, a state of affairs not conducive to the world's welfare; and Prague suffered accordingly. Strange scenes must have been reflected in the Vltava in those stormy times, as the pageant of the history of Prague crossed the Charles Bridge. One day, to the beating of drums, a bevy of priests came from afar; they made for the market-place and there sold indulgences. The Pragers, distracted by the dissensions that rent the country, took to arms repeatedly. Now and then a rift in the clouds would hold out promise of a serener atmosphere; after two Habsburgs, Albert and his posthumous son, Ladislaus, came a King of their own choosing, of their own race and faith, George Podiebrad. But much as the Pragers venerated this native King of theirs, he was able to bring them little lasting good, with all his grand efforts and laudable intentions. George Podiebrad, it appears, was fond of the river, like a good Bohemian, and would come down to bathe occasionally. To make a clean job of it, he used to get shaved at the same time, possibly hair-cut. One day as the barber held the King's chin and flourished his razor, the knight of the tongs asked his sovereign: "Who is now the most mighty man in this Kingdom of Bohemia?" "Surely thou art," quoth the King. When the shave was over the King demanded: "Who is now the mightiest man in this Kingdom of Bohemia?" "Surely thou art," quoth the barber, who was thereupon given striking evidence of his monarch's might, a couple of blows on the jaw, a kick or two in the ribs, and other marks of royal favour. No doubt a few halidoms, gramercies and other bits of furniture were set flying about at the time. The barber was so overcome by these marks of royal favour that he died a few days after taking them. This was George Podiebrad in lighter mood; he had a serious side to him as well, as I may try to show you by and by.

There followed Vladislav, a Pole, and various Habsburgs as Kings of Bohemia, but I see little that the river cares to reflect, of their work or doings. Instead of reflections in the waters, I see them troubled, and anxiety on the face of Prague. There seems to have been a brightening up after the Bohemians had cleared the atmosphere by letting loose the War of Thirty Years. They had invited a foreign Protestant to be their King, and they hoped much from his wife. We have met these two before, Frederick of the Palatinate and Elizabeth, whom the Bohemians still insist on calling an Englishwoman, whereas everyone should know that anyone who has even a remote Scottish relative expects to be considered a Scot "for a' that." The river gives me just a glint of a reflection concerning Frederick and Elizabeth.

The good people of Prague live by the river, on the river, and in warm weather in the river. This has been the pleasant custom of the Pragers from time immemorial; it has not been appreciated by some of the visitors to Prague. So, for instance, this so-called English lady, Elizabeth, wife of him whom history nicknames the "Winter King," was shocked at the very liberal display of pink flesh one day when crossing the Charles Bridge. It was probably a sunny day, and many people of Prague were disporting themselves in the Vltava, as they do to-day. You may see them swimming about or in boatloads pulled by some enthusiastic if perspiring male member of the family; indeed, the results of Bohemia's excellent cuisine are much in evidence. It must be admitted that the same cuisine tends to develop a certain redundancy among those no longer in their first youth. Perhaps the sight of exuberant ladies, scantily clad and bulging over the gunwale of a frail craft, provoked the English Princess to a shocked utterance, the account of which, purposely garbled by the Jesuits, spread abroad like wildfire, and caused much unfavourable comment. The lady herself was subject to remark by the Pragers on account of her very decolleté dresses after the fashion set by the Court of her father, King James I of England, of whom it is said, by the way, that he was not over addicted to washing—the tips of his fingers were about the extent of his ablutions; so stone-throwing was out of place in this instance, as in all others. However, as we know, Elizabeth did not make a prolonged stay in Prague; her husband Frederick, by no means endowed with the physical courage of his son Rupert, the Prince Palatine, did a memorable "sprint" when he heard how the people of his adoption had been defeated. The people of Prague then had much more serious matters to concern themselves with than an English Princess's dresses. The troops of the Empire marched into Prague, adventurers of many nations swarmed into the city and settled there while Jesuits set about bringing back the citizens into the fold of the Roman Church by lighting bonfires with the works of the earnest divines who followed in the footsteps of John Hus and the reformers. They endeavoured by these means to stamp out any tendency to freedom of thought, religious and political, in the people of Bohemia. In this they failed.

While talking of the aquatic habits of the people of Prague, of Bohemia generally, I am reminded of accounts by Byzantine chroniclers, reporters and travellers who described Slavs they had met or heard of. This would be some time ago, say sixth or seventh century. These Slavs had a wonderful idea of lying in ambush—I cannot call it a military stratagem, it is so amphibious. They lay down in shallow pools, showing only the end of a blow-pipe to breathe through, and so waylaid the enemy. The Byzantines must have been up against the Czechs, who seem to me distinctly amphibious in summer-time. True, the stratagem described is no longer in use; it is too simple for modern times and methods; besides, I do not know many Bohemians of whom I could say that they are built for that manœuvre, that they would ever be able effectively to conceal their manly proportions in shallow pools. No, I do not think it could be done to-day. One buirdly body, whose proportions were not easy to conceal, caught my eye one day as I was paddling about among a swarm of merry swimmers. He stood out among the crowd, a majestic figure. It was not his costume—simplicity itself—which attracted my attention, not his fiercely upturned moustache nor the red and white jockey cap that crowned his square-cut head. It was his massive stateliness as a whole. Surely he had taken guidance from Marcus Aurelius: "Be thou like a promontory"!

Be Thou Like A Promontory.

On sunny summer days all Prague seems to be on or in the river, and a very sensible and healthy way it is to spend the hot hours of the day—and it can be appreciably hot in Prague. As a rule you may reckon on long spells of fine weather throughout Bohemia, as the country is sheltered on the weather side by the high mountains which hold up the rain. So all Prague turns out to enjoy the river and the sunshine. During the summer months the inhabitants of Prague, a very white-skinned race, turn ripe brown in the parts exposed to the sun; and, as I suggested before, a considerable aggregate surface is thus exposed. In contrast to low-cut white frocks, brown necks recall sights familiar to Eastern travellers. I do not suggest that this detracts from the charm of the ladies of Prague, to which I pay ready tribute. And in winter the normal fairness of skin of the Aryan reasserts itself, while the charm remains—in fact, intensifies. It is singularly pleasant to watch the younger generation at play on or in the river. They are all good, strong swimmers, but their chief delight seems to lie in each one "paddling his, or her, own canoe." The river canoe is not quite the same as those which we derived from the Red Indians, though that kind of craft is also seen about. The popular canoe is a very small flat-bottomed concern with pointed stem and stern, is generally gaily painted and named appropriately "Water Bubble," "Fairy," or something equally ingenious. It looks easy when you see a lass gracefully paddling herself along with a double oar; it is anything but as easy as it looks. This class of canoe is a very unstable craft. I have tried to navigate one, and spent the whole time in the water—simply could not keep inside the tub. This I much regretted, for it must be thoroughly enjoyable to laze about under the trees that overhang the river from one or other of the islands and listen to the band. You do not get half the enjoyment you should out of music when swimming around all the time, and it would not be appreciated if you appeared like Venus or Undine, from out of the foam as it were, among the customers of the "Restauration" on one or other of the islands—besides, you would not have your pocket-book, stuffed with notes, on your person just then.