Читать книгу Bohemia, from the earliest times to the fall of national independence in 1620 - C. Edmund Maurice - Страница 5

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The history of a lost nationality is necessarily tragic and can rarely be commonplace. In the case of Bohemia the interest is increased by the variety of the parts which she was forced to play, each of which, while of great value to the world, assisted in some degree to hasten her ruin. Thus, for instance, the intense desire to maintain her own independent life brought her into collision with neighbouring States which were determined to crush or to absorb her; while, on the other hand, her position as the champion of a race, of which she was but one member, dragged her into further quarrels that were not necessarily the result of her geographical position. And, lastly, the very desire to maintain her national existence, and to defend the freedom of her Slavonic kinsmen, constantly compelled her to mix in the quarrels of that larger world with which she and they had so little sympathy; and even to accept a share in the responsibilities of that Empire, which, calling itself Roman, was always becoming more and more Teutonic, and therefore more anti-Slavonic.

And in that struggle between Teuton and Slav the one thing which, from the earliest to the latest times, has been the most prized treasure, and the subject of the fiercest championship of the Bohemian, is his language. Every effort for constitutional government and national liberty has always directly connected itself with this aspiration for the preservation, development, and general recognition of this great right. Sigismund, in the time of his most cruel attempts to crush out the freedom of his subjects, was denounced as “the enemy of our language,” rather than of our nation. Hus is honoured, even by Roman Catholic Bohemians, as the assertor and developer of their language. It was the great crime of Joseph II. that he desired to destroy it. If we could have talked with a Bohemian Christian of the ninth or tenth century, we should have found his deepest feelings stirred by a reference to the language which was then assuming its first shape; and the same subject has the deepest interest for the Bohemian patriot of the nineteenth century, now that his language has become one of the most varied and expressive of modern Europe.

Nor must we forget the connection of the ecclesiastical independence of Bohemia with her most vivid political life. From the time when the mission of Cyril and Methodius brought to the front the question of a Slavonic ritual, and of an ecclesiastical organisation, which was to be separated as far as possible from Teutonic influences, to the time when Bohemia sank before Ferdinand in the struggle between national Protestantism and Imperial Romanism, the questions of Bohemian language and Bohemian self-government were mixed up continually with the claim to be guided in spiritual things by a clergy who preached and prayed in the Slavonic language.

Even the earliest traditions show that long before the introduction of Christianity the Bohemian ideal of national life had been totally different from that of the surrounding nations. The poem of “The Judgment of Libus̆a,” which seems to embody the earliest picture of Bohemian life, is no Iliad or Niebelungen Lied, no story of robber dens or rapes of the Sabines, but the representation of a peace-loving nation trying to uphold traditions of communal ownership of land, and the gentle guidance of the wisest in judicial affairs, modified by an organised expression of popular opinion.[1]

So great an impression did the poems, in which this ideal is set forth, produce on the Bohemian mind, that extracts from them are translated at full length by the chronicler Cosmas, who took an active part in the bustling politics of the eleventh century, when these ideals must have seemed to belong to a very distant past.

According to this writer, certain people who had been scattered by the failure of the Tower of Babel, wandered into Germany where they found various wild beasts. One party in the course of their wanderings found a plain lying near the mountain Rip, and between the rivers Ogra (Eger), and Wlitawa (Moldau). This plain they called Bohemia after the eldest of the party named Boemus. Here they founded a peaceable and communistic settlement where they desired to make war on none but the beasts. But, some ambitious men having introduced the evil of private property, it became necessary to choose a judge to decide the disputes which now unavoidably arose. So they chose as their judge their best man named Crocco, who founded a camp. He had three daughters, of whom the eldest was skilled in medicine, the second was a kind of religious teacher, who instructed the people in the worship of Oreads and Dryads; while the third, Libus̆a, was distinguished for her political wisdom and foresight, and was supposed to be an inspired prophetess.

Libus̆a was accordingly chosen to the judicial office on her father’s death. But Crocco’s formation of a camp seems to have stirred the military spirit in the Bohemians; and the story which follows clearly indicates the transition from the earlier and more peaceable stage to the later developments of national organisation. Two powerful chiefs are disputing for the land, which has come to them from their father. The question is submitted to Libus̆a, as the chief judge. On the day of the trial she appears in great state, summons before her the heads of the different families or tribes, and submits to them her proposals for settling this question. She declares that, according to the old custom of their people, the land ought either to be equally divided between the brothers, or else they ought to share it in common. The leaders of the tribes, after collecting in some way the votes of the assembly, decide that the land is to be held in common, basing their judgment also on the old traditions of the nation. Thereupon the elder of the disputants rises in anger, and declares that he ought to have retained the land in right of primogeniture, and further that the Bohemians ought not to submit any longer to women, who were fitter for receiving the advances of wooers than of dictating laws to soldiers.

Then follows a scene which seems at once to fix the point of change arrived at, and to make the circumstances more familiar for ordinary readers by the parallel which it suggests with a familiar transition to military kingship recorded in the Second Book of Samuel.

Libus̆a, anxious to warn her people of the full effect of the course they are taking, sets forth to them the dangers of a military monarchy. Beginning with a reference to the story of the petition of the frogs to Jupiter, she reminds them that it will be more easy to choose a chief than to remove him. “Before him your knees will tremble, and your tongue cleave to your mouth. You will with difficulty answer, ‘Yes, sir! yes, sir!’ He will condemn men by his nod without your judgment being taken; he will cut off the head of one, and throw others into prison; some of you he will make slaves, and others exactors and torturers; others, again, he will make cooks or bakers or millers. He will appoint you as tribunes or centurions or cultivators of his vines and wheat, as armourers and preparers of skins. He will reduce your sons and daughters to subjection, and will carry off the best of your horses and mares and cattle to his palace. He will take what is best from your fields and plains and meadows and vineyards, and turn them to his own use.” But though the criminal folly of the change proposed is indicated as clearly by Libus̆a as by Samuel, yet in both stories we find by a strange contradiction the same half-mystical enthusiasm for the person of the first king.

Libus̆a, unable to resist the popular demand that she should take a husband and give the Bohemians a king, tells the people to go to a certain village where they will find a man ploughing with oxen. Him they are to greet as their king, and his posterity will rule in this land for ever. The messengers plead that they do not know the way to the village. Libus̆a answers that if they will follow her horse it will guide them. They obey; and they at last arrive at the village of Stadic, where they find Pr̆emysl ploughing. They call on him to change his dress and mount the horse, as Queen Libus̆a and all the people demand him as their ruler. Pr̆emysl therefore sets free his oxen, telling them to go whence they came, and strikes his goad into the ground. The oxen vanish from sight, and the goad puts forth leaves and fruits. Then Pr̆emysl comes with the messengers; but he insists on taking with him his ploughman’s boots, that his successors may be made humble and merciful by the memory of the state from whence they sprung; “and these boots,” says Cosmas (writing in the eleventh century), “are preserved at Vys̆ehrad to this day in the Duke’s chamber.”

There is another legend which still more quaintly marks this transition from mild and readily accepted rule to the era of physical force. According to this story the maidens of Bohemia founded a city which they called Dĕvín from Devina, “a maiden.” The young men to maintain their independence set up an opposition town called Hrasten. The intercourse between these rival towns seems to have been sometimes friendly and sometimes hostile; but always apparently on equal terms as long as Libus̆a lived. After her death, however, the men won the day, and ever afterwards held the women under their control.

But the golden age of Queen Libus̆a is long past, when we catch sight of the Bohemians in even the earliest period of authentic history. First we have a dim vision of a great Slavonic Empire stretching northwards to the Spree, and eastwards to the Carpathians; of struggles with Avars and Huns, and, above all, with the Franks. Then suddenly, as the dim mist clears a little, we find that the Franks have become Christian, and the great struggle between German and Slav, hinted at already in the poem of “Libus̆a’s Judgment,” has begun in earnest. The centre of resistance to the German, however, is not in Bohemia, but in the neighbouring Slavonic dukedom of Moravia; and it gathers round a prince named Rostislav, who is encouraging both Moravians and Bohemians to stand firm against those peculiar ideas of Christianity, which Charles the Great and his descendants tried to thrust upon reluctant nations by fire and sword. Some Bohemians had indeed been compelled by Louis, the grandson of Charles the Great, to accept baptism; and Christian Bohemia owned the authority of the German Archbishop of Regensburg.[2]

But the Duke of Bohemia, encouraged by Rostislav, still held out against the Carlovingian form of Christianity; the Moravians defeated Louis in 849, and Rostislav strengthened his own position as the champion of Slavonic independence by an alliance with the Bulgarians. This alliance was to produce results very unexpected at the time by Rostislav, and powerfully affecting the future of Moravia and Bohemia. Boris, the powerful king of Bulgaria, had received at his Court a Christian monk named Methodius, the son of a patrician of Thessalonica. Apparently Methodius had originally been brought to the Bulgarian Court on account of his artistic talent; but he was also a very zealous Christian; and when Boris ordered him to paint such a picture, in the hall of his palace, as would strike terror into all who saw it, Methodius improved the occasion by painting a picture of the Last Judgment. The inquiries and explanations that followed prepared the way for the acceptance of the new faith by the king of Bulgaria and his subjects.

LIBUS̆A’S BATH JUST BELOW THE VYS̆EHRAD.

But the Greek missionaries found that the want of a written language prevented them from giving their Slavonic converts full instruction in the details of the Christian creed. Methodius, therefore, called in the help of his brother Cyril, who had been occupied in the conversion of the Chazars, a people whose country lay a little to the north of the Bulgarian kingdom.

Cyril was a learned monk, who had been trained at the Court of Constantinople, and was well skilled in various languages. Taking the Greek alphabet as his basis, but altering its form, he invented a written language for the Slavonic race, into which he translated a liturgy, several books of the Bible, and some of the early Fathers.

The news of the conversion of the Bulgarians quickly came to the ears of Rostislav, for the great Bulgarian kingdom touched the eastern side of Moravia; and the recent alliance had brought the two peoples into closer intercourse. Unwelcome as Christianity had seemed to the Moravians, when presented to them as a demand of Frankish invaders, and taught in an unknown tongue, its lessons came with a very different force when urged by pious and peaceable monks, recommended by friendly kinsmen, and expounded in a language intelligible to the converts. Rostislav no doubt quickly perceived that the new teaching might form a valuable link in the alliance of the Slavs against their enemies. He appealed to the Emperor of the East to send Cyril and Methodius to Moravia; and, when they arrived at the town of Devina, Rostislav and his followers went out to welcome them; and after Cyril had retired from the mission, Methodius was recognised by the Pope as Archbishop of Moravia and Pannonia.

But troubles very soon began for the new-comers. The German party in Moravia were resentful at the introduction into the churches of what they considered a barbarous language; and they saw danger to their power, both in the adoption of a ritual which was understood by the people, and in the assertion of an episcopal authority which claimed to be independent of the German bishops. Nor was it only by foreigners that the influence of Cyril and Methodius was endangered; an opposition was roused even among the Moravians themselves. Svatopluk, the nephew and rival of Rostislav, seems to have accepted some kind of nominal Christianity, but unaccompanied by any change of life, or even by any great reverence for the externals of worship; and he opposed the new apostles of the Slavs with the greatest fierceness. The opposition of this ambitious prince no doubt arose at first from his desire to pose as the champion of the German party, who were undermining his uncle’s authority. According to one story he had already attempted to poison Rostislav, and having failed in that purpose he conspired with the Emperor Louis against him, made him prisoner, and sent him off to the Imperial Court to be tried. Louis threw Rostislav into prison, and put out his eyes. But Svatopluk, though he succeeded in seizing the Dukedom, did not long retain the confidence of the Emperor or the German party. He, in his turn, was deposed and thrown into prison.

Then the Moravians rose against the Franks, under a man named Slavomir, who, according to one story, was a pupil of Methodius. The Emperor thereupon set Svatopluk free, and sent him at the head of an army to suppress the new rising. Svatopluk betrayed his soldiers to his countrymen, destroyed the German army, and once more became Duke of Moravia. He now felt it impossible any longer to pose as the champion of the German party; and he had married the sister of Duke Bor̆ivoj, of Bohemia, in order to strengthen the alliance of the Slavs against the Franks. As a part of his new policy, he was forced, for a time, to encourage the movement of Methodius; and it was during this period that the archbishop or one of his followers converted and baptised Bor̆ivoj, and induced him to found two churches in memory of St. Clement of Rome, whose remains Cyril had discovered in his expedition to the Chazars.

There seems some difficulty in ascertaining how far the Slavonic ritual came into general use in Bohemia at this time. It is tolerably certain, on the one hand, that Methodius did not desire to oppose the authority of the Bishop of Regensburg, who claimed to be primate over the Bohemian Christians; and that bishop, like all the German prelates, was opposed to the spread of the Slavonic ritual. On the other hand, it is clear that, as Christianity grew in Bohemia, it connected itself with Slavonic traditions; and we find that in less than a century from this time the Bohemian congregations had adopted a Slavonic hymn as a necessary part of their ritual.

But, however slow the progress of Slavonic Christianity may have been in Bohemia, Methodius does not seem to have excited there that savage hostility which he continued to provoke in Moravia. Svatopluk and his courtiers were, no doubt, indignant at the higher morality preached by Methodius; and one of the claimants of the German Empire, with whom Svatopluk was alternately in alliance and enmity, resented extremely the authority claimed by Methodius over Pannonia as well as Moravia. But, in order to strengthen their position, the opponents of Methodius took advantage of his having come from Constantinople, to attack him as a rebel against the Pope, and a supporter of the Greek heresy of the Single Procession.

CYRIL AND METHODIUS, FROM THE WINDOW OF A CHURCH IN CAROLINEN-THAL.

The first of these charges was singularly inconsistent with the traditions of both the brothers, who led the mission to the Slavs. Cyril had been partially induced to go on his mission to the Chazars by the unfriendly relations which had arisen between him and the Patriarch of Constantinople. While in the Chersonesus he had discovered the bones of the Roman saint, Clement, who had died there; and he had ever since recognised this saint as the special patron of his mission to the Slavs. After Cyril and Methodius had established themselves in Moravia, they had applied to Rome for sanction to their work; and when they had been summoned to the Court of the Pope, in consequence of this application, Cyril had been so much attracted to the place that he had entered a Roman monastery, and had abandoned the mission, for the future, to Methodius. Methodius, on his part, seems to have been little inclined to resist authority, where no moral or religious principle was concerned. So in 879 he readily accepted the summons to appear before the Roman Synod, and easily convinced Pope John VIII. of his willingness to obey him. Methodius was equally happy in vindicating his orthodoxy in the matter of the Double Procession.

But when these points had been settled, there still remained the real subjects of dispute. These were the lawfulness of the Slavonic ritual, and the position of Methodius as Archbishop of Moravia. Svatopluk had thrown himself with eagerness into the cause of Methodius’s opponents, and joined in the denunciation of the Slavonic ritual, declaring that it degraded worship by connecting it with a barbarous dialect. The champions of the Latin ritual attempted to strengthen their cause by referring to the inscription written by Pilate on the Cross in Hebrew and Greek and Latin. This argument brought them the nickname of Pilatici, or followers of Pilate, while Methodius and his disciples appealed, in answer, to the authority of the Apostles, who, on the Day of Pentecost, had uttered in all languages the wonderful works of God. Pope John seems clearly to have understood that the opposition to Methodius arose rather from prejudice of race than from ecclesiastical principle; and he recognised this fact in the Bull which sanctioned the Slavonic ritual. For in this document he expressly required that all the clergy in the diocese of Moravia and Pannonia, whether Slav or of whatever race they might be, should be submissive to the archbishop. A very noteworthy modification was subjoined to this decision which seemed to stamp a popular and democratic character on the Slavonic movement. “If Svatopluk,” said the Pope, “and the members of his Court desire to use the Latin ritual, they may do so still.”

An even more crushing blow to the hopes of the enemies of Methodius was given in a second decision of the Pope. The German party had persuaded Svatopluk to appoint a preacher named Wiching as Bishop of Nitra in Pannonia, thereby hoping at any rate to counterbalance the authority of Methodius. Pope John, however, decided that he would only recognise this appointment on condition that Wiching acknowledged the archbishop as his superior; and he expressly recommended Svatopluk to choose his next bishop with the advice and consent of Methodius. So alarmed were Wiching and his friends at this letter from the Pope that they succeeded in suppressing it, before it could reach Svatopluk; and they forged another in which the Pope was made to say that Methodius had indeed recanted his heresy about the Double Procession; but that he was forbidden to use the Slavonic ritual, and that Bishop Wiching was appointed to carry out the papal decrees.

Methodius denied the genuineness of the document, and wrote to Rome for another letter. John confirmed his former decree, and summoned Wiching to Rome to answer for his proceedings. Wiching, however, refused to go; and he was backed in his opposition both by Svatopluk and by Arnulf, the claimant of the Empire, whose hold over Pannonia had been one of the chief causes of the opposition to the episcopal authority of Methodius.

The relations between Methodius and Svatopluk, always hostile, would now have probably culminated in the death or exile of the archbishop, but that a quarrel broke out between Svatopluk and Arnulf; and the desire of Svatopluk to overthrow Arnulf’s influence in Pannonia naturally hindered his action against Methodius. For the few remaining years of the archbishop’s life, he was able to carry on his work, both moral and religious, with much less opposition; but when, after his death, his friends attempted to get his pupil Gorazd appointed as successor in the archbishopric, Wiching succeeded in stirring up Svatopluk against him, in renewing the alliance with Arnulf, and finally in securing the expulsion from Moravia of the leading followers of Methodius. But in spite of the opposition of dukes and Germans, the Slavonic ritual held its own in Moravia, and Svatopluk’s son Mojmir became its champion against the bishops of Salzburg.

Important, however, as the defence of the Slavonic language and ritual was in the history of Bohemia and Moravia, the enemy against whom it had specially served as a watchword had ceased to become the object of uncompromising hostility. A new power had made its way into Europe, more dangerous, for the moment, to Slavonic unity and Bohemian independence than Frank, Saxon, or Bavarian; and the Bohemians and Moravians were for a time compelled to forget their fears and hatred of the Germans, in order to combine with them against a new enemy.