Lectures on The Historians of Bohemia

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Lectures on The Historians of Bohemia

BEING THE ILCHESTER LECTURES FOR THE YEAR 1904

THE COUNT LÜTZOW

Preface

PREFACE

If one thing is less known than the history of Bohemia it is the life and the works of the historians who have recorded the annals of that country. The undoubted fact that many works of ancient Bohemian writers have been lost has led to the supposition that no native records of my country except those belonging to the last century are existent. Bohemian history, as far as it has been written at all, has been mostly written on German lines; the hostility between the Slav and the Teuton, which has continued without interruption since the mythical Čechus and his Slav companions arrived in Bohemia, is a sufficient proof that records founded on the evidence of the adverse party could have little value. Palacký was the first to point out, early in the nineteenth century, that many writings of priceless value for the history of his country were still preserved in manuscript in the archives of certain Bohemian castles. It is thus that the writings of Březan Slavata and Skála ze Zhoře—the last-named of whom would be accounted a great historian in any country—became known, though only to a very limited extent. The history of Bohemia is perhaps one of the saddest in the world’s story. A country that for a time had been in the van of civilization became almost a desert, and suffered for centuries from political, national and ecclesiastical oppres- sion.

It is perhaps natural that those who belong to a small and little-known nation should consider it to a greater extent their duty to make their country known, than those who are citizens of a country that has world-wide fame. The words of the great historian Palacký, spoken on the occasion of his last appearance in public which I have quoted at the end of my last lecture, have long impelled me to do what little is in my power to make my country known and refute those who have endeavoured to tarnish its fame.

1 therefore owe a great debt of gratitude to my friend Prof. Morfill, who kindly suggested that I should lecture at Oxford on a subject concerning Bohemia. Nothing could be more in accord with my wishes and the interest of my country than that I should speak of the historians of my country in the world-famed University City that is connected with Bohemia by many ancient links. I wish also to thank the Curators of the Taylor Institution for their kindness and the facilities they have given for the publication of these lectures.

LÜTZOW.

December 10, 1904.

Lecture 1

I

AMONG the many greater and smaller misfortunes that have befallen the Bohemian nation the misuse of the national name is by no means the one that is of least account. A Bohemian requires a thorough knowledge of the English language to grasp what the word ‘Bohemian’ generally conveys to Englishmen. The ancient mistake which identified the Bohemians with the gipsies undoubtedly originated in France. As the great Bohemian historian Palacky has suggested, many gipsies arrived in France bearing passports signed by the Bohemian kings, and this was the original cause of the mistake. The peculiar, modern signification of the word is, however, I think, a creation of Henry Murger, and owes its origin to his Vie de Bohême. Thackeray first used the word in its modern sense in the English language.

It is at the present day, I hope, scarcely necessary to state that the Bohemians have no connexion whatever with the gipsies, and that their language, a Slavic one, forms part of the great Aryan family of speech. Next to Russia, which in literature as in politics is the most prominent of Slav countries, and Poland, Bohemia is the country in which Slavic literature has flourished most; and in Bohemian literature historians certainly hold a very high rank. The reason is not difficult to seek. There was a period when the Bohemians were makers as well as writers of history, and it has been the fate of Bohemia to play at least once a part in history—as did the Netherlands and Sweden in later days—that was quite disproportionate to the extent and population of the country. After the battle of the Zizkov, when the Bohemians defeated almost the whole world in arms against their capital, and yet more after their wonderful victories during Prokop’s campaigns in Germany, the Bohemians were at least within measurable distance of obtaining the supremacy in Europe—at least for a time. As writes one of the chroniclers of the Hussite wars: ‘The Bohemians had never before fought so glorious a campaign in Germany. Had they craved for glory as did their ancestors, they would have marched onward as far as the Rhine and subdued many countries; but they contented themselves with their rich spoils and returned to Bohemia.’

Only a few years ago I should have mentioned as earliest Bohemian historian, Cosmas of Prague, ‘the father of Bohemian history,’ as he used to be called. Historical research, very active since the revival of the Bohemian language at the beginning of the last century, has rendered it at least doubtful whether Cosmas was the first of Bohemian historians.

The learned Professor Pekář of the National University of Prague, published recently a work entitled Nejstarší Kronika česká (the oldest Bohemian chronicle), which has caused great sensation in the learned world of Bohemia. Professor Pekář endeavours to prove that Kristián, also called Strachkvas, brother of the Bohemian duke, Boleslav II, was the author of a chronicle entitled Life of St. Ludmilla and Martyrdom of St. Wenceslas. Kristián died in 995, and if it can be proved that he is the author of this chronicle, it belongs to the tenth century, and is the oldest historical work written in Bohemia and by a Bohemian.

It is unnecessary to refer here in detail to the controversy that has arisen, and it will be sufficient to state that Dr. Pekář has, I think, proved his case. The legend, which has been four times published, firstly in 1677 by the learned Jesuit Balbinus, and lastly by Dr. Pekář two years ago, has great historical value. It contains one of the earliest accounts of the conversion of Moravia to the Christian faith. This is a matter of great importance, as the fact that Bohemia and Moravia first received Christianity from the East, and long maintained a connexion with the East, is strongly urged by Slavic writers and strongly opposed by German historians.

I will quote a portion of Kristián’s account. ‘It is believed,’ he writes, ‘and indeed known that Moravia, a Slavic country, early obtained the faith of Christ, but the Bulgarians had long before received that grace; for one Cyrillus, Greek by birth, learned in Latin as well as in Greek writings, after the conversion of the Bulgarians came in the name of the Holy Trinity and the indivisible God to the people of Moravia for the purpose of preaching there also the faith of Our Lord Jesus Christ. And when he had won them for Christ he, by the grace of God, invented new characters and translated into the Slavonic tongue the Old and New Testaments, as well as other Greek and Latin works. He also decreed that mass and the canonical horary prayers should be read in the vulgar tongue; and this has been continued in Slavic countries up to the present time, whereby many souls have been won for Our Lord Christ.’ I may here incidentally remark that the custom of using the national language in churches continued in Bohemia for a long time, and was revived during the period of the Hussite wars. During the existence of the national church of Bohemia—from about 1420 to 1620—the religious services were always held in the national language.

The chronicle deals principally with the martyrdom of St. Ludmilla, and with the murder of St. Wenceslas—still the patron-saint of Bohemia—by his treacherous younger brother Boleslav. Boleslav had invited his brother to his castle that was situated near the town that still bears the name of Mladá-Boleslav. I will give a short extract from Kristián's account of the murder, as it is the oldest version of the celebrated legend of Wenceslas. After apologizing for the length of his narrative, he writes:—

‘Very great sorrow hath many words, but I will endeavour not to delay long those who desire to know somewhat of the sufferings of the holy martyr.

‘Holy Wenceslas, who was soon to be a victim for the sake of Christ, rose early, wishing, according to his saintly habit, to hurry to the church that he might remain there for some time in solitary prayer before the congregation arrived; and wishing as a good shepherd to hear the matins together with his flock and join in their song, he soon fell into the snares that had been laid; for the priest of this church—one of those from whom this iniquity of Babylon proceeded—according to the commands of the evil ones, closed the gates of the church as soon as he heard the goodly man enter. Then the plotters—that is, his brother and his armed companions—who were prepared, rose up. Then seeing his brother, this chosen soldier of God thanked him and embracing and kissing him, greeted him, saying, “I salute you, my brother, may you be rich in the goods of this world and of the next, and may Christ admit you to His eternal banquet, you who have yesterday feasted so lavishly me and my followers.” Then said Boleslav with proud spirit and fierce eyes, drawing his sword, which he had concealed under his cloak: “That was yesterday according to the circumstances, but this is the cheer which to-day one brother will give to the other.” Then brandishing his sword he struck at his brother’s head, but through the favour of the Lord he scarcely drew blood; for the horror which he felt at the greatness of his crime was so strong that even when he attacked his brother a second time, he could not carry out his evil intent. Then, the Holy Wenceslas endeavoured to seize his bare sword, saying, “How evilly dost thou act by wounding me.” But when he saw that he by no means abandoned his evil purpose, he—as some say—seized him and threw him down at his feet, saying, “Behold, thou seest, O man who knowest thyself lost, that I can destroy thee like the meanest of beasts; but never shall the hand of a servant of God be stained with the blood of his brother.” Then he returned to his brother the sword that he had taken from him, and with bleeding hands hurriedly proceeded from the church. But the wretched Boleslav followed him, and cried out with a loud voice; “My friends, my friends, where are you? evilly indeed do you aid your lord, and little help do you give him in his trouble.” Then the whole band of conspirators rushed from their hiding-place with many swords and spears, and wounding him with many grievous wounds, killed him at the door of the church. Then this saintly soul departed, victoriously and with the laurels of martyrdom from the prison-house of this world on the fourth day before the calends of October in the year of the incarnation 928, while the world mourned and the heavens rejoiced.’

As I have already mentioned, the exact date of Kristián’s chronicle is uncertain. We are on safer ground when dealing with Cosmas of Prague, the Bohemian Herodotus as he was formerly called. Writing in 1125, he tells us that he was then an octogenarian; we may therefore assume that he was born about the year 1045. He began writing late in life, after the death of his wife Božetěcha, and perhaps to solace the sorrow which her loss—to which he alludes in a very feeling manner in his book—caused him. I should here mention that the celibacy of the clergy was only introduced into Bohemia at a late period.

Cosmas, who appears to have been of noble birth, studied for some time at Luttich or Liège in Belgium, and then took holy orders. He became canon and afterwards dean of the chapter of Prague. In this capacity he accompanied the bishops of Prague on many political missions, and took a considerable part in the politics of his country. Thus he was present at the meeting of the German Diet at Mainz, at which Prince Vratislav of Bohemia received the royal crown. He was also employed on missions in Italy and Hungary. Cosmas writes as a warm Bohemian patriot, and it is curious to meet in the works of a writer of the twelfth century with allusions to the ‘arrogance innate in the Teutons, who with incensed haughtiness despise the Slavs and their language.’ Cosmas also tells us that Libussa, the semi-mythical female ruler of Bohemia, stated that it was more likely that a fish should become warm under the ice, than that a Bohemian should agree with a German.

Cosmas’s Chronicon Bohemorum—written in Latin, as was the book of Kristián though obviously the work of a man of advanced age, is certainly superior to many similar chronicles which belong to this period. His Latinity, of course judged from the low standpoint of the twelfth century, is fairly good, and it is obvious that Cosmas was a good classical scholar. He frequently quotes Sallustius, Ovid, Virgil, Terence, Lucan, and particularly Horace, who seems to have been a particular favourite. Cosmas was not indeed devoid of the ambition of himself writing Latin verses; thus he ends the second book of his chronicle with these rather rugged lines:

‘Siste gradum, musa, Chronicis es iam satis usa Carmine completo Die, lector amice, valeto.’

Modern critics have indeed accused Cosmas of attaching more importance to his Latin quotations and to his classical reminiscences than to historical research. This reproach is, I think, unfounded, and the great Bohemian historian Palacky pointed out many years ago that a large mass of original matter gathered from the libraries of various Bohemian monasteries is embodied in the chronicle of Cosmas.

The chronicle is divided into three books, which were certainly written at different times and only afterwards joined together to form one complete work. This is proved also by the fact that the older MSS. contain a separate dedication of each of the books.

The first book, as was usual with the historians, or rather chroniclers of that period, begins with the deluge. Cosmas, however, somewhat mercifully devotes but little space to this early period and soon devotes his attention to matters that have a more immediate connexion with Bohemia. His account of the arrival of the Čechs in Bohemia is very interesting. It is hardly necessary to mention that they were not the original inhabitants of the country, but that a Celtic and then a Teutonic tribe previously resided in Bohemia. At the time of the migration of the nations, the Völkerwanderung, as the Germans call it, the Teutonic tribe of the Marcomanni were replaced by the Slavic tribe of the Čechs, whose previous residence was probably that part of Poland now known as the Austrian province of Galicia. After giving a quaint description of the solitudes of Bohemia for curiously no record of the pre-Slavic inhabitants of Bohemia seems then to have existed Cosmas describes the arrival in Bohemia of the Slavs under their eponymous leader Čechus. He states that the Řip (in German Georgsberg), that is mountain of St. George, a high hill near Roudnic overlooking the Elbe, was the site of the first Čech settlement in Bohemia. This statement has since been repeated by numerous Bohemian historians, and it is probably historically correct. I will quote the account of Cosmas; he writes: ‘When the leader of the Čechs entered these solitudes it is uncertain by how many men, seeking spots fit for human dwelling-places, he was accompanied. He surveyed the mountains, the valleys, the wild and the fertile regions, with a sagacious glance, and, as I think, established the first dwelling-places around the mountain Rip between two rivers, the Eger and the Ultava or Moldau, built the first houses, and gladly placed on the ground the penates which he had carried with him on his shoulders. Then the oldest man, whom the others accompanied as their lord, spake these words to his followers. “O companions, who more than once have remained with me in the depths of the forest, arrest your steps, offer a thank-offering to your penates through whose miraculous protection you have reached this your country that has long been predestined for you. This, then, is the land that I remember often to have promised you, a land subject to no man, full of game and birds, abounding with sweet honey and milk and as you will perceive yourselves, a dwelling-place which its climate renders pleasurable to inhabit. Here you will be wanting in nothing, for no one will hinder you. But now that this land, so beautiful and so great, is in your hands, reflect as to what will be an appropriate name for the country.” Then, as if moved by a divine oracle: “Where could we find a better and more appropriate than if we should call the land also Čechia, as thou our father art called Čechus?” Then their elder moved by this augury began joyfully to embrace the soil, rejoicing that it had received his name; then arising and lifting upward to the stars the palms of his hands he began to speak thus: “Hail, land granted to us by fate and for which we have prayed a thousand times; land that at the time of the deluge wert bereaved of man, preserve us safely as a record for mankind, and multiply our offspring from generation to generation.”’

It is scarcely necessary to point out what clear traces of the study and imitation of the classics this passage shows. The words ‘tendens ad sidera palmas’ are taken almost verbally from the Aeneid.

In his account of these semi-mythical events Cosmas wisely and conscientiously avoids attempting to define their dates chronologically; his method varies after the year 894, which he gives as the date of the conversion to Christianity of the Bohemian prince Bořivog. Still up to the year 1037, the year with which the first book of Cosmas’s chronicle ends, dates are only given occasionally and little reliance can be placed on them. Cosmas indeed admits this at the end of the first book. He states that in the earliest part of his narrative he had relied on but uncertain evidence, but he also declares that should he continue his chronicle he will henceforth only state certain and reliable facts. He writes: ‘Up to now I have dealt only with the events of the most ancient times, but as St. Jerome says: “Differently do we narrate the things we have seen, differently those we have heard, and differently again those that we have but imagined”; thus will we now better express what we know better, and henceforth with the aid of God and St. Adalbert we intend to narrate those events which we have either seen, or truthfully gathered from those who have seen them.’

This statement cannot, however, be considered as absolutely correct, at least with regard to the second book in which Palacký, whose Würdigung der alten böhmischen Geschichtschreiber—that is to say, appreciation of the ancient historians of Bohemia is still the standard authority on the subject, has discovered numerous chronological and other errors.

I have already mentioned that the second book begins with the year 1037. It ends with the death, in 1092, of Vratislav II, the first of Bohemia’s rulers who bore the title of king.

The third and last book of the chronicle of Cosmas is the most valuable one, as it deals with events many of which occurred during his lifetime and in some of which he himself took part. I choose for quotation Cosmas’ account of the murder of the nobles of the Versovic family. This murder is one of the obscure events in early Bohemian history. The Versovic family, or rather clan, who appear to have held a semi-independent position, had given offence to the Přemyslide princes who ruled over Bohemia. Prince Svatopluk suspected two of the Versovic nobles, Vacek and Mutina, of treachery during one of his campaigns. The massacre that was the consequence of this suspicion took place in 1108, during the lifetime of Cosmas, and his very vivid account was no doubt derived from an eye-witness unless Cosmas, as is quite possible, was himself present at this tragic event.

After stating the causes of the resentment of the princes against the Versovic lords, and mentioning the warning that Mutina received, Cosmas writes: ‘After they (the Versovic lords) had entered the castle of Vratislar, the prince summoned for the following day a meeting of all the great of the land. After they had met then as a lion that has been let out of his cage and steps on to the arena, and roaring and with erect mane awaits his prey thus did Svatopluk enter the council-chamber; he sat down in the middle of the hall on the stone bench near the fireplace himself more incensed than the fireplace in which burnt a sevenfold fire. Then, looking around him, he gazed at Mutina with fierce eyes, and then furiously addressed him thus: “Oh, hated race and brood that is detested by the gods, evil sons of Versovic, household-enemies of our race; will it ever escape my memory how you behaved to my ancestor Jaromir, a prince whom you indeed turned into ridicule, but whose fate is our eternal shame; or shall I forget that your brother Bosý by evil fraud murdered my brother Břetislav, that eminent star in the orbit of princes? What fate also had deserved my brother Bofřivoj, who ruled under your control, and obeyed you as if he had been your purchased slave; yet with your innate pride you would not endure even the modesty of that prince, and you vexed me with your cunning councils till I accepted your advice, and sinning against my brother sinned greatly by depriving him of the throne. This indeed grieves me, and will grieve me for ever.’”

The speech that Cosmas has put into the mouth of Svatopluk is too long to be quoted in its entirety; but I will quote the vivid description of the murder that immediately followed the reproachful speech. Cosmas writes: ‘There was a confused murmur among the audience, and by their approval they yet further incensed the mind of the prince that was already burning with ire. Then the prince left the hall, after making a secret sign to the executioner—Cosmas calls him “lictor” who was standing near him, and who was conscious of his intentions. The executioner immediately attacked Mutina, who was unaware of the danger. Oh, wondrous patience of Count Mutina! Two blows did he receive without moving, but when at the third blow he attempted to rise from his seat, his head was struck off. At the same hour, and in the same hall, Unislav, Domassa, and the two sons of Mutina were captured. Another man, Nevsa, who did not indeed belong to the clan, but who was an intimate friend of Mutina, fled seeing what had happened, and would have escaped from the castle through the shrubs if his red tunic had not caused him to be recognized. He was immediately captured and deprived of sight. And as it often happens that a bloodthirsty wolf rages and murders in the sheep-fold, and does not calm his fury nor desist from slaughter till he has killed all the sheep, thus Svatopluk, already stained with the blood of one man, was now yet more exasperated, and he decreed that the whole clan should, without distinction of age, and without delay, be decapitated. He said to the counts who were standing around him, “He who fulfils my wishes will receive a large weight of gold, but he who kills Bosý (one of the leaders) and his son will receive hundredfold more than the others, and will inherit their estates.”’

I cannot for want of time translate the account of the great massacre that now ensued; it was one of those sudden outbreaks of fury with which the usually placid and peaceful Slavic race is sometimes seized, and of which the massacre of the Streltsi by Peter the Great and the recent tragedy at Belgrade are later examples.

Before leaving Cosmas I will again draw attention to the great influence which the study of the classics had on him. Thus he speaks of the ‘gods,’ though the Bohemians had accepted Christianity long before the time of the massacre of the Versovic; he writes of ‘lictors,’ and describes the fury of a hungry lion in a manner which shows that the Roman amphitheatre was in his mind.

The chronicle of Cosmas for a long time enjoyed great popularity in Bohemia, and was indeed for many years the standard authority on the history of the country. It is, therefore, natural that it found many continuators, mostly ecclesiastics who wrote in Latin in a manner similar to that of Cosmas. Such historians were the writers known as the canon of the Vysehrad, the monk of Sazava, Peter abbot of Zittau, Francis provost of Prague, and many others. Their works have great interest for the student of Bohemian history, but speaking to a wider audience I do not wish to devote to them time that I should rather devote to historians of more general interest.

I should, however, give no faithful account of the historians of Bohemia if I omitted to allude to the so-called chronicle of Dalimil, the first historical work written in the national language. I should here mention that the late Mr. Wratislaw has given an account of Dalimil’s chronicle in one of his lectures on the native literature of Bohemia in the fourteenth century, which were delivered as the Ilchester Lectures for the year 1877; I have purposely avoided repeating statements contained in these lectures that will be known to most of those interested in Slavic matters.

It is doubtful who was the author of the chronicle of Dalimil, which has been preserved in several MSS., of which the most important is in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge. It was formerly stated, on the authority of a passage in Hajek’s chronicle that was wrongly interpreted, that the book was the work of one ‘Dalimil, canon of the church of Boleslav.’ Recent research has only proved that the writer was a layman, and a Bohemian noble belonging probably to the northern districts of the country. From the contents of the chronicle it appears that the author began his work in 1308, and finished it in 1316; of the events from the year 1279 downwards he writes as an eye-witness.

The chronicle of Dalimil has been printed several times. The first edition appeared at Prague in 1620, but was suppressed in the same year, after the battle of the White Mountain, and the subsequent occupation of Prague by Austrian-Spanish troops. The keynote of the chronicle is intense hatred of the Germans, whose warfare with the Slavs has continued almost uninterruptedly from the arrival of the Čechs in Bohemia up to the present day. Dobrovsky, one of the forerunners of the Bohemian revival in the nineteenth century, very truly writes: ‘At no time was the Bohemian hatred of the Germans so intense as during the period described by Dalimil. His heroes, the Bohemian nobles and knights, are great and brave when they drive the Germans out of their country; weak and powerless are the kings who heed the word of German councillors.’

In the beginning of his chronicle, the writer states that it was his love for his nation that induced him to write, though he was a knight rather than a scholar. ‘Of one thing,’ he writes, ‘I am full sure, that I have my nation much at heart; that has encouraged me in this work; that has impelled me to work.’

I will only quote one passage from the chronicle; it is the one which tells of the marriage of Prince Ulrich to the peasant-maiden Božena. This passage also bears witness to the intense hatred of the Germans which is so characteristic of the so-called Dalimil; he writes: ‘Prince Ulrich was hunting at Postoloprty; it befell that when he rode through a village a peasant-maiden was standing near a stream, barefoot and with bare shoulders. Now the maiden was very beautiful, and had a very bashful manner. Then the prince began to admire her, and immediately he took her as his wife. She bore the name of Božena, and became a noble princess, but the nobles were incensed against the prince because of this marriage. Then the prince said—the nobles listened unwillingly—“Peasants sometimes become nobles, and sometimes sons of nobles become peasants; for inherited silver obtains nobility, and often a poor noble is reduced to peasantry. We all descend from one father, and he ranks as a noble whose father had much silver. And as nobility and peasantry are thus intermingled, Božena shall be my wife. Rather would I entrust myself to a Bohemian peasant-girl than that I should take a German woman as my wife. Every heart clings to its nation, therefore would a German woman favour less my language. A German woman will have German servants. She will teach my children German, hence there would be strife in the nation and the land itself would perish. Lords, you heed not your own advantage when you gird against my marriage.”’

I have thought it well to translate this passage, not only because it is characteristic of the innate hatred of the Germans that has always existed in Bohemia, but also because it bears witness to the somewhat democratic views of the ancient Slavs who in contrast to the Latin and Teutonic races attached little importance to ancestry.