Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City (9 page)
Read Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City Online
Authors: Peter Demetz
BOOK: Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City
14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
It was advantageous to dwell and do business in the shadow of Prague Castle, but for the humble people life was made more difficult by recurrent sieges, often by stubborn Polish and Moravian princes, as in 1105 and 1142, and by the conflagrations devastating the castle and its
suburbium.
In the late eleventh and the twelfth centuries, as if driven by the impulse of colonization felt in Bohemia if not in Europe in general, people shifted from the left to the right bank more rapidly, particularly after the fire on the left bank in 1142 and the completion of Queen Judith’s Bridge in 1172, a structure of red sandstone comfortably crossing the river on twenty pillars, somewhat north of the later Charles Bridge. A number of settlements of Czechs, Germans, Jews, and even Italians emerged on the right bank, only sporadically inhabited before; by 1230 there were eight churches on the left bank in addition to those at the castle and those affiliated with the monasteries, while the right bank and its hamlets had twenty-two places of worship, including the Jewish “Old Synagogue,” which, unfortunately, has disappeared without a trace, and the residence of the Knights Templars, who came in 1223. The mendicant friars came early: the Franciscans in the 1220s, during the lifetime of St. Francis, and the Dominicans in 1226, only ten years after the rules of their order had been confirmed by the pope. A marketplace was established as early as 1105, according to Cosmas, as the center of this new settlement, goods were regularly offered and sold on Saturdays, and for the protection of foreign merchants a manor house was built close to the market where they could feel safe. A little later, the dukes or the kings demanded that they stay there at the Týn (a word etymologically close to “fence” or “town”), open their wares for inspection, and pay a market fee, or
Ungelt,
to the authorities. There is documentary evidence that by 1212 a certain Blažej was appointed to supervise market affairs in the name of the king, and he functioned as the first town judge or, perhaps, royal sheriff in the urban history of Prague.
suburbium.
In the late eleventh and the twelfth centuries, as if driven by the impulse of colonization felt in Bohemia if not in Europe in general, people shifted from the left to the right bank more rapidly, particularly after the fire on the left bank in 1142 and the completion of Queen Judith’s Bridge in 1172, a structure of red sandstone comfortably crossing the river on twenty pillars, somewhat north of the later Charles Bridge. A number of settlements of Czechs, Germans, Jews, and even Italians emerged on the right bank, only sporadically inhabited before; by 1230 there were eight churches on the left bank in addition to those at the castle and those affiliated with the monasteries, while the right bank and its hamlets had twenty-two places of worship, including the Jewish “Old Synagogue,” which, unfortunately, has disappeared without a trace, and the residence of the Knights Templars, who came in 1223. The mendicant friars came early: the Franciscans in the 1220s, during the lifetime of St. Francis, and the Dominicans in 1226, only ten years after the rules of their order had been confirmed by the pope. A marketplace was established as early as 1105, according to Cosmas, as the center of this new settlement, goods were regularly offered and sold on Saturdays, and for the protection of foreign merchants a manor house was built close to the market where they could feel safe. A little later, the dukes or the kings demanded that they stay there at the Týn (a word etymologically close to “fence” or “town”), open their wares for inspection, and pay a market fee, or
Ungelt,
to the authorities. There is documentary evidence that by 1212 a certain Blažej was appointed to supervise market affairs in the name of the king, and he functioned as the first town judge or, perhaps, royal sheriff in the urban history of Prague.
Landmarks of P
emyslid Prague
emyslid Prague
Not far from this marketplace, which is Starom
stský Square today, rich merchants built elaborate and massive Romanesque stone houses; recent archaeological research has unearthed nearly seventy of these buildings, rare in Central Europe, which were hidden behind later Gothic and even classicist facades. These houses, most of them on Celetná, Jilská. Husova, and nearby streets, were two stories high, the lower floor being reserved for business, the upper as private space; though there was no heating and the windows were covered in winter with heavy leather, the columns and ceilings were finely structured. The richest of these Romanesque houses, later ascribed to a clan of the Czech gentry, can still be found at
et
zová Street. On the north side of the market, closer to the river, Jewish and German merchants were settling in rather close proximity: the Germans before the end of the eleventh century at the Po
and around the Church of St. Peter, which they yielded briefly to the Teutonic Knights; and the Jews possibly after fires had destroyed their left-bank neighborhood.
stský Square today, rich merchants built elaborate and massive Romanesque stone houses; recent archaeological research has unearthed nearly seventy of these buildings, rare in Central Europe, which were hidden behind later Gothic and even classicist facades. These houses, most of them on Celetná, Jilská. Husova, and nearby streets, were two stories high, the lower floor being reserved for business, the upper as private space; though there was no heating and the windows were covered in winter with heavy leather, the columns and ceilings were finely structured. The richest of these Romanesque houses, later ascribed to a clan of the Czech gentry, can still be found atetzová Street. On the north side of the market, closer to the river, Jewish and German merchants were settling in rather close proximity: the Germans before the end of the eleventh century at the Poand around the Church of St. Peter, which they yielded briefly to the Teutonic Knights; and the Jews possibly after fires had destroyed their left-bank neighborhood.These different settlements were far from constituting a unified city; there was Prague Castle and its
suburbium,
the Vyšehrad and its
vicus
, the new market settlement, nearby the Jewish and German neighborhoods, and all around hamlets and villages. In some Hebrew documents the settlements between the two castles at Prague and the Vyšehrad were called Mezigrady (Between-the-Castles), and it was only during the thirteenth century that the name Prague, first reserved for the castle or marketplace below, began to refer to the settlement(s) on the right side of the river too. About 3,500 people lived here on a stretch of land close to the size of Nuremberg, Ghent, or Bruges at that time.
suburbium,
the Vyšehrad and its
vicus
, the new market settlement, nearby the Jewish and German neighborhoods, and all around hamlets and villages. In some Hebrew documents the settlements between the two castles at Prague and the Vyšehrad were called Mezigrady (Between-the-Castles), and it was only during the thirteenth century that the name Prague, first reserved for the castle or marketplace below, began to refer to the settlement(s) on the right side of the river too. About 3,500 people lived here on a stretch of land close to the size of Nuremberg, Ghent, or Bruges at that time.
The biographer who wants to know more about P
emysl Otakar II, fifth king of Bohemia and the most powerful ruler of the dynasty, hears conflicting voices among his contemporaries and Otakar’s almost condescending silence. He left us not a single line in his own hand, and remains hidden behind the elaborate allusions of Middle High German knightly poems and the rhetorical terms of Latin chronicles or Czech and Styrian texts praising his magnificence or telling us how evil and treacherous he really was. Prince Otakar was born, probably in 1233, at the illustrious
Prague court of his father, King Václav I, and his German mother, Kunigunde, of the noble Hohenstaufen family, granddaughter of an emperor of Byzantium and later closely related through her sisters to the most important European courts, including those of Emperor Otto IV and the king of Castile. Historians have speculated about Otakar’s early training and education; at the Prague court, the king and his nobles were committed to the fashionable ideas of chivalry, horsemanship, the hunt and the joust, but it is also suggested that Otakar, as a second son, was, according to tradition, surely trained for a position in the church, at least as long as his older brother Vladislav lived (he died in 1247). At the cathedral or the collegiate school at the Vyšehrad, he may have acquired a smattering of dynastic history, the beginnings of Christian teachings, and a little Latin. Considering the presence at court of German clerics, ladies-in-waiting to the queen, and itinerant poets, his German may have been passable (though I wonder how he really conversed with his Austrian mistress or the German and Austrian poets who rode with him in his wars).
emysl Otakar II, fifth king of Bohemia and the most powerful ruler of the dynasty, hears conflicting voices among his contemporaries and Otakar’s almost condescending silence. He left us not a single line in his own hand, and remains hidden behind the elaborate allusions of Middle High German knightly poems and the rhetorical terms of Latin chronicles or Czech and Styrian texts praising his magnificence or telling us how evil and treacherous he really was. Prince Otakar was born, probably in 1233, at the illustriousPrague court of his father, King Václav I, and his German mother, Kunigunde, of the noble Hohenstaufen family, granddaughter of an emperor of Byzantium and later closely related through her sisters to the most important European courts, including those of Emperor Otto IV and the king of Castile. Historians have speculated about Otakar’s early training and education; at the Prague court, the king and his nobles were committed to the fashionable ideas of chivalry, horsemanship, the hunt and the joust, but it is also suggested that Otakar, as a second son, was, according to tradition, surely trained for a position in the church, at least as long as his older brother Vladislav lived (he died in 1247). At the cathedral or the collegiate school at the Vyšehrad, he may have acquired a smattering of dynastic history, the beginnings of Christian teachings, and a little Latin. Considering the presence at court of German clerics, ladies-in-waiting to the queen, and itinerant poets, his German may have been passable (though I wonder how he really conversed with his Austrian mistress or the German and Austrian poets who rode with him in his wars).
The writer of the
Colmar Chronicles,
an account in Latin composed in the late fourteenth century by a scribe in an Alsatian monastery, describes young Otakar as a “handsome youth, of swarthy complexion [
fusco colore
]
,
middling stature, broad chest, full lips, vivacious and wise,” and a wondrous reflection (especially of the
figura mediocriter longa
and the
pectus magnum
) strikingly illuminates the stone effigy with armor and sword which the artist Peter Parler created in 1373 to adorn Otakar’s tomb in Prague Cathedral (his worried face was disfigured by irate Swedes who tried to rob his grave in 1648). There is something strangely young and tragic about Otakar; he was fifteen when he revolted against his father, thirty when he was at the height of his power, and forty-five when he was killed, almost like a mad dog, on the fields of Dürnkrut and Jedenspeigen.
Colmar Chronicles,
an account in Latin composed in the late fourteenth century by a scribe in an Alsatian monastery, describes young Otakar as a “handsome youth, of swarthy complexion [
fusco colore
]
,
middling stature, broad chest, full lips, vivacious and wise,” and a wondrous reflection (especially of the
figura mediocriter longa
and the
pectus magnum
) strikingly illuminates the stone effigy with armor and sword which the artist Peter Parler created in 1373 to adorn Otakar’s tomb in Prague Cathedral (his worried face was disfigured by irate Swedes who tried to rob his grave in 1648). There is something strangely young and tragic about Otakar; he was fifteen when he revolted against his father, thirty when he was at the height of his power, and forty-five when he was killed, almost like a mad dog, on the fields of Dürnkrut and Jedenspeigen.
Young Otakar entered Bohemian political life by committing a few blunders, but he quickly learned from his mistakes. The noble families were once again dissatisfied with King Václav I; the landed barons felt endangered by his policies, which favored the new towns and a growing money economy. Otakar did not lead the revolt against his father, but was talked into it when it became surprisingly successful at first; and the king, a seasoned diplomat, hesitated in his responses. In July 1248, Otakar, clearly manipulated by his older friends, was proclaimed
rex iuvenis Boemorum
at Prague Castle while his father gathered his forces in the northeast of Bohemia. But the youthful
rex
and the rebels underrated the power
of the Roman Curia; the pope intervened, the Prague clerics’ support for the revolt faded, and when the wily older king captured the right bank in a surprise maneuver, it was necessary to negotiate. The king took his time, and after some tactical compromises, he imprisoned Otakar for a few days and put two leaders of the revolt to death, one beheaded and the other broken on the wheel, without trial or investigation. In the meantime, the crown prince had died, and the king restored Otakar to the dignity of margrave of Moravia, though with his few privileges diminished and under close supervision.
rex iuvenis Boemorum
at Prague Castle while his father gathered his forces in the northeast of Bohemia. But the youthful
rex
and the rebels underrated the power
of the Roman Curia; the pope intervened, the Prague clerics’ support for the revolt faded, and when the wily older king captured the right bank in a surprise maneuver, it was necessary to negotiate. The king took his time, and after some tactical compromises, he imprisoned Otakar for a few days and put two leaders of the revolt to death, one beheaded and the other broken on the wheel, without trial or investigation. In the meantime, the crown prince had died, and the king restored Otakar to the dignity of margrave of Moravia, though with his few privileges diminished and under close supervision.
The first lesson which Otakar learned—perhaps too well, as a Czech historian suggests—was that he had to work with the Curia, not against it. He took his oath of loyalty to the church seriously; two Bohemian crusades against the Prussians on the shores of the Baltic (where he participated in establishing the royal fort of Königsberg, first mentioned in 1256) were certainly undertaken with a view to the Curia, as was his sudden turn away from the Baltic exploits when it became clear that Rome did not have much interest in supporting his plan to make his Moravian bishop responsible for the spiritual administration of the new lands and souls. The other lesson, which he learned not well enough, was to deal adroitly and circumspectly with the great feudal families of Bohemia and elsewhere. Whenever they disputed his royal prerogatives, he was not ready to forgive easily, and more than a trace of impatience and cruelty in his decisions can be found in his tempestuous dealings with the restive nobles, who were to take their bloody revenge.
Young Otakar demonstrated admirable skill and courage, and as margrave of Moravia asserted a P
emyslid presence in Austria, which was on the brink of anarchy after the death of the Babenberg duke Frederick in 1246. The emperor had tried to appoint administrators there, but they could not function, and in 1251 Otakar, who had systematically cultivated close contacts with many Austrian noble families (much to the ire of the suspicious Hungarians and Bavarians), was invited by a gathering of these Austrians to accept the dignity of
dux Austriae,
and he took up residence in Vienna. For political reasons it was suggested that he marry Margarete of Babenberg, heiress to the Austrian lands (the bridegroom was nineteen years old and she, once married to King Henry VII [1211-42], a widow in her mid-forties). This
mariage de raison
was quickly concluded with the approval of the church hierarchy, and Margarete moved to Prague Castle; this did not prevent Otakar from loving young Agnes, of the noble Austrian Kuenring family (he had a son and two daughters with her), and contemporaries recall her as a young woman with hair
cropped like a boy’s (she must have looked like Jean Seberg in
Au bout de souffle).
In fighting his enemies Otakar showed himself more tenacious than brilliant as a strategist; against the Bavarians he suffered a deplorable defeat at Mühldorf in 1257 because a retreat was badly planned and many heavily armed knights drowned in the Inn River; and in 1260 he turned the battle of Groissenbrunn against the Hungarians (during which he had some difficulties fighting the legendarily ferocious nomad horsemen of the steppe, the Cumans) into a massive defeat of the Hungarian king Béla.
emyslid presence in Austria, which was on the brink of anarchy after the death of the Babenberg duke Frederick in 1246. The emperor had tried to appoint administrators there, but they could not function, and in 1251 Otakar, who had systematically cultivated close contacts with many Austrian noble families (much to the ire of the suspicious Hungarians and Bavarians), was invited by a gathering of these Austrians to accept the dignity ofdux Austriae,
and he took up residence in Vienna. For political reasons it was suggested that he marry Margarete of Babenberg, heiress to the Austrian lands (the bridegroom was nineteen years old and she, once married to King Henry VII [1211-42], a widow in her mid-forties). This
mariage de raison
was quickly concluded with the approval of the church hierarchy, and Margarete moved to Prague Castle; this did not prevent Otakar from loving young Agnes, of the noble Austrian Kuenring family (he had a son and two daughters with her), and contemporaries recall her as a young woman with hair
cropped like a boy’s (she must have looked like Jean Seberg in
Au bout de souffle).
In fighting his enemies Otakar showed himself more tenacious than brilliant as a strategist; against the Bavarians he suffered a deplorable defeat at Mühldorf in 1257 because a retreat was badly planned and many heavily armed knights drowned in the Inn River; and in 1260 he turned the battle of Groissenbrunn against the Hungarians (during which he had some difficulties fighting the legendarily ferocious nomad horsemen of the steppe, the Cumans) into a massive defeat of the Hungarian king Béla.
When Otakar wanted to consolidate his realm, he had to ask himself who was to inherit it, and after the Curia denied his request that his children born to Agnes be legitimized, the idea emerged to divorce Margarete, who had been unable to bear him an heir, and to contract a Bohemian-Hungarian marriage to strengthen the peace. This was all done rather speedily; a group of clerics investigated Margarete’s past and conveniently discovered that she had, as a widow, entered a Dominican convent in Trier, taking an oath of chastity which invalidated her marriage to Otakar; Otakar married young Kunhuta, granddaughter of King Béla, strikingly beautiful and rich, intelligent, and, possibly, a spoiled brat. On October 18, 1261, Margarete quietly left Prague Castle for a silent old age in Austria, and on December 23, just two months later, Otakar, now twenty-eight, and sixteen-year-old Kunhuta were ceremoniously welcomed to Prague Castle by the archbishop of Mainz, six bishops, and Otakar’s princely in-laws from Brandenburg and Poland. After the couple had been crowned in the cathedral, a magnificent feast was prepared, with music, dancing, and rich gifts for the guests, who dined at long wooden tables in a hall constructed for the purpose on Letná Hill.
The archbishop of Mainz had some qualms about the coronation of Kunhuta, not mentioned in the pope’s permission, but Otakar’s gift, including a hundred measures of gold for his archdiocese and four measures of silver for the adornment of Mainz Cathedral, made him change his mind. There may have been some talk in the wings, for the cleric writing about these affairs in the
Annales Otakariani
was caught between his loyalty to the dynasty and his feeling for the aging former queen. He tried to explain to himself why she had left and sadly remarked, “God knows the reason.” Later chronicles, especially those on the Austrian side, suggest that Otakar succumbed to the evil charms of power-hungry Kunhuta; it is true that she was more independent than most, established her own office with a chancellor in charge, and, after Otakar had been killed, married Záviš of Falkenštejn, his archenemy, a leader of Prague’s internal
opposition to the king, who ruled the country for a time and was put to death by a pro-Hapsburg faction in 1290.
Annales Otakariani
was caught between his loyalty to the dynasty and his feeling for the aging former queen. He tried to explain to himself why she had left and sadly remarked, “God knows the reason.” Later chronicles, especially those on the Austrian side, suggest that Otakar succumbed to the evil charms of power-hungry Kunhuta; it is true that she was more independent than most, established her own office with a chancellor in charge, and, after Otakar had been killed, married Záviš of Falkenštejn, his archenemy, a leader of Prague’s internal
opposition to the king, who ruled the country for a time and was put to death by a pro-Hapsburg faction in 1290.
Otakar never won epic battles, but he was accomplished in turning even military half-measures to his political advantage, and in the 1260s and early 1270s he strengthened his power by military expeditions, skillful politicking, and fiduciary arrangements in a way that astonished European observers. By invitation and marriage he had become duke of Austria, and after his expeditions against the Hungarians, he held on to Styria and the land down to Pordenone, north of Venice, until 1276 and acquired Carinthia by bequest (paying off his cousin Philip, the eternal bane of his life, with an empty title and more persuasive subsidies). He ruled Carniola, a region then including Slovene Ljubljana, asserted his power in the patriarchy of Aquileja, an old bishopric (in the northern Italian province of Udine), and prompted other important towns of the Adriatic region to seek his royal protection. Bohemia nearly touched the sea, though not as literally as in Shakespeare’s
The Winter’s Tale,
and rhetorically gifted contemporaries, at least those in the chronicles, praised his realm extending from “sea to sea” and were able to imagine P
emyslid standards fluttering on the shores of the Baltic and close to the Adriatic. It was a kingdom, a modern Czech historian suggests, that anticipated the contours of the later Austrian monarchy of many nations, and it was ironic that it was to be destroyed by Otakar’s enemy Rudolf of Hapsburg, who, in turn, left it to his heirs to build the realm anew, to be ruled later from Vienna rather than Prague.
The Winter’s Tale,
and rhetorically gifted contemporaries, at least those in the chronicles, praised his realm extending from “sea to sea” and were able to imagine P
emyslid standards fluttering on the shores of the Baltic and close to the Adriatic. It was a kingdom, a modern Czech historian suggests, that anticipated the contours of the later Austrian monarchy of many nations, and it was ironic that it was to be destroyed by Otakar’s enemy Rudolf of Hapsburg, who, in turn, left it to his heirs to build the realm anew, to be ruled later from Vienna rather than Prague.Otakar’s authority was based on personal power and on shifting local alliances at home and abroad; his tendency to centralize administrative decisions alienated many Czech nobles, especially in the south of the country, and many powerful Austrians feared loss of their prerogatives to Otakar’s administrators. The Styrian noble Siegfried von Mahrenberg, whom Otakar suspected of disloyalty, was seized, dragged to Bohemia, held in a Prague Castle dungeon, and killed there, provoking his relatives to seek their revenge. Otakar had considerable support in the Bohemian towns and in Vienna but many enemies among Czech and Moravian nobles, as, for instance, Záviš of Palkenštejn and Boreš of Riesenburk; though it is true that many noble Austrian families were loyal to him, especially the Kuenrings (declared to be robber barons by later Austrian historians), it was symptomatic that when he faced ruin, members of the Vienna town patriciate led by Paltram vor dem Freithof conspired to defend him and had to run for their lives when Rudolf of Hapsburg finally and triumphantly entered the city in 1276.
Other books
The Winter Sea by Susanna Kearsley
A World Apart by Peter McAra
Fear the Dark by Kay Hooper
Blancanieves debe morir by Nele Neuhaus
Night's Touch by Amanda Ashley
Yellowcake by Margo Lanagan
Stroke of Genius by Marlowe, Mia
The Complete Idiot's Guide to Werewolves by Brown Robert
Year of the Dragon (Changeling Sisters Book 3) by Heather Heffner
Unbridled and Unbranded by Elle Saint James
