Master of the Cellar. The cup signifies the freedom of the
Bohemian Church, as it was in our forefathers' times. Our
forefathers in the wars of the Hussites forced from the Pope 50
this noble privilege: for the Pope, you know, will not grant
the cup to any layman. Your true Moravian values nothing
beyond the cup; it is his costly jewel, and has cost the
Bohemians their precious blood in many and many a battle.
Neumann. And what says that chart that hangs in the air 55
there, over it all?
Master of the Cellar. That signifies the Bohemian letter
royal, which we forced from the Emperor Rudolph—a
precious, never to be enough valued parchment that secures
to the new Church the old privileges of free ringing and 60
open psalmody. But since he of Steiermärk has ruled over
us, that is at an end; and after the battle of Prague, in
which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown and empire, our
faith hangs upon the pulpit and the altar—and our brethren
look at their homes over their shoulders; but the letter 65
royal the Emperor himself cut to pieces with his scissors.
Neumann. Why, my good Master of the Cellar! you are
deep read in the chronicles of your country!
Master of the Cellar. So were my forefathers, and for that
reason were they minstrels, and served under Procopius and [70]
Ziska. Peace be with their ashes! Well, well! they fought
for a good cause though—There! carry it up!
Neumann. Stay! let me but look at this second quarter.
Look there! That is, when at Prague Castle the Imperial
Counsellors, Martinitz and Stawata were hurled down head 75
over heels. 'Tis even so! there stands Count Thur who
commands it.
[Runner takes the service-cup and goes off with it.
Master of the Cellar. O let me never more hear of that day.
It was the three and twentieth of May, in the year of our
Lord one thousand, six hundred, and eighteen. It seems to me [80]
as it were but yesterday—from that unlucky day it all began,
all the heart-aches of the country. Since that day it is now
sixteen years, and there has never once been peace on the earth.
[Health drunk aloud at the second table.
The Prince of Weimar! Hurra!