The Jail. Experiences in 1916. Josef Svatopluk Machar

to live down her past, but is defeated by the petty traditions of a provincial town. Among Machar's miscellaneous collections of verse may be mentioned "The Warriors of God", the ironical title of a ​volume of incisive and epigrammatic political satire which followed in 1897, and the "Satiricon" of 1904, which is similar in character.

      The publication of "Golgotha" in 1901 marks the beginning of a new series of poems, upon which Machar has worked intermittently ever since. He is now no longer concerned with the personal emotions of his earlier lyrical period, but is attracted by the collective destinies of mankind as displayed in the drama of history. But Machar's conception of historical characters and events is nevertheless often strongly affected by his personal bias. Thus. "In the Glow of the Hellenic Sun" and "The Poison from Judaea", both published in 1906, by their very titles indicate Machar’s sympathies for classical antiquity on the one hand, and his anti-clerical sentiments on the other. During the year 1911 they were followed in rapid succession by "The Barbarians" (early Middle Ages), "The Pagan Flames" (renaissance) and "The Apostles" [reformation period). No further additions to the series have yet been published.

      This gallery of historical portraits and perspectives deserves special notice by reason of the vividness with which Machar has reconstructed scenes and depicted figures from the most diverse periods and of the most diverse types. Taken as a whole it forms an outlined epic of mankind's development, the component parts of which are short but often extremely effective dramas. Thus, "On Golgotha" in the first volume of the series, is a graphic and unconventional narrative of Christ's crucifixion, written in blank verse of great poetical beauty. Machar himself says that the music of Beethoven was ringing within him when he wrote this poem, and this well accounts for the stately cadences in which the scene is enacted to its unrelenting conclusion. And without analysing in detail the series as a whole, it is sufficient to refer in general terms to the admirable manner in which Machar visualises Babylonian kings, Chinese ​chroniclers. Greek tyrants, Roman emperors, Popes, savage invaders, poets, painters, and soldiers, and in a few firm strokes presents their leading characteristics.

      As a prose-writer Machar also ranks very high in Czech literature. Here again we find the same polemical tendencies, the same bold criticism of social and political shams, and, it must be added, the same unsparing self-revelation. For instance. "The Confession of a Literary Man" (1901) is Machar's autobiography, in which he depicts his youth and manhood with sardonic frankness. One of his most famous prose works is "Rome", prompted by his violent aversion to Catholicism and its adherents. Much of Machar's prose writing consists of newspaper feuilletons commenting upon topics of the day, and it is probably these which have gained him the greatest number of readers. Yet however trifling the subject in itself, the vigorous style in which it is discussed invests it with a more than transient interest.

      Machar's record as an author reveals him as a personality of unswerving courage. In the course of his career he has not flinched from wounding the national susceptilities of his fellow-countrymen when he considered that the interests of truth demanded it. He has lost friends and made enemies by the uncompromising expression of his views. It was inevitable that such a man should come into contact with the Austrian authorities during the war, and it is the various incidents connected with his supervision and inprisonment which form the subject of "The Jail". Here we have all manifestations of the typical Machar,—his strong human sympathies, his psychological insight, his courage, his candour, his sarcasm, his humour, his dramatic instinct and his faculties for describing places, persons and events. But the qualities of the book are so obvious that they do not need to be indicated further. It is enough to add ​that "The Jail" has a two-fold value,—as a piece of literature and as a historical document. On either score it was worth translating into English,—the double merit made its translation an urgent duty, which it has been a pleasure to fulfil.

      London, March 10th 1921.P. Selver.

      Chapter I

       Table of Contents

      ​

      I.

      TAILOR: Hi! hist! hi, neighbour, a word with you!

      CARPENTER: Go your way, and leave me in peace.

      TAILOR: Only a word. Is there nothing new?

      CARPENTER: Nothing except that it is forbidden to speak of anything new.

      TAILOR: How is that?

      CARPENTER: Step up to this house. Take care! Straightway upon his arrival the Duke of Alba had an order issued by which two or three who speak together in the street are declared guilty of high treason without a trial.

      TAILOR: Alas, preserve us!

      CARPENTER: Under pain of life-long imprisonment it is forbidden to speak of affairs of state.

      TAILOR: Alas for our liberty!

      CARPENTER: And under pain of death nobody shall say aught against the actions of the Government.

      TAILOR: Alas for our lives!

      CARPENTER: And fathers, mothers, children, relatives, friends and servants are invited with a promise of great things to divulge to a specially established court what goes on within the very household.

      TAILOR: Let us get home.

      CARPENTER: And the obedient are promised that they shall suffer no injury either to body, or honour, or possesions.

      TAILOR: How merciful! Why I supposed—etc. etc. According to Goethe's "Egmont" this scene was enacted at Brussels in the year 1567, but it was enacted in reality on countless occasions in the lands of the Bohemian crown in the years 1915 to 1916.

​It can safely be asserted that time after time in the course of the last 300 years our nation was afflicted by persecutions as other countries by earthquakes. A very thorough-going persecution fell to our lot immediately after the battle of the White Mountain; it was a persecution which might be called an imperial one. It was aimed at the rebellious lords, but the Czech nation almost breathed its last as a result of it. And it was the first misfortune,—not for us, since nations always outlive their dynasties,—but for those who carried it out. A river of blood began to flow between them and us,—and such blood never dries up. The persecution which followed it was also interesting, and might be called a religious one. It is interesting because it has been described with considerable vividness by Jirásek^[1] in his magnificent work entitled "Temno" (Gloom). Its victims were books and people whose confession of faith was different from that prescribed by the holy Roman Catholic Church; and this again was a misfortune for the Church—the Hussite spirit had always smouldered amongst us under the ashes.—the holy Church made efforts to keep it smouldering. The subsequent persecution which might be compared with a continual earthquake, because it lasted long over a hundred years, was a persecution by the lords, and was directed against the serfs. Jirásek, Svátek^[2] and others have also written interesting accounts of it. It is true that it did not fall upon the nation as a whole, but on the other hand, an enormous number of individuals were its victims. The persecution by Metternich was one of the mildest. It was directed not only against us Czechs, but against all the nations in Austria, and indeed, against a large part of Europe. It was milder because ​it allowed people freedom of movement; they were permitted to eat, drink, sleep, keep awake, dance, swim, walk, skate etc.—but to make up for this their spirits were enclosed in a dark room where windows and doors were blocked up so as to prevent light and fresh air from getting in. That is the reason why the wretched literature of our renaissance is so tame, and our revivalists such timid creatures. The soul needed neither to see nor to hear,—it's only desire had to be: To be a good subject of its overlord. After the year 1848 began the political persecution which brought Havlíček^[3] to Brixen, dismissed inconvenient officials and teachers. Confiscated books, suppressed newspapers, locked up editors, sent strict governors to Prague, brought Czech people before German judges and also continued for a respectable number of years, proceeding sometimes more severely, sometimes only leniently, sometimes vanishing for a period after which, having rested, it immediately began