Page:The Lady's Realm v 6 1899.pdf/412

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 * ANDBY FRANCIS COUNT LÜTZOW.|||
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OHEMIA has at all periods been a land of ghosts and “spirits.” With the intuition of genius, George Sand, who never visited the country, has, in her “Consuelo,” and “Comtesse de Rudolstadt,” described many of the ancient legends and traditions of the country, and the weird visions which appeared to the mysterious inhabitants of subterranean caverns and dungeons.

The north-eastern districts of Bohemia, in which the castles and ruins of Zampach, Brandeis, Litic, Pottenstein, and many others, are situated, are particularly rich in these romantic traditions. This is especially the case as regards the old ruins on the top of the volcano-like hill of Zampach. The ruins, indeed, have, in the present century, almost disappeared, but the hill is still, because of old associations, visited (not altogether to the delight of the proprietors) by countless tourists, who carefully examine the scanty fragments of masonry that still remain. Intimately connected with these ruins is the memory of John of Smoyno, known to the Bohemians as “Pancír” (the man in armour), from his custom of always appearing in full armour.

John of Smoyno was only one of the many robber-knights who then terrified the north-eastern districts of Bohemia, but his fame has remained exceptional. When King Charles I. of Bohemia, better known as the German Emperor Charles IV., started on an expedition against the robber-knights of north-eastern Bohemia, it was Zampach, the stronghold of the redoubtable Pancír, that was first attacked by the Royal forces. The situation of Zampach, which has already been noted, rendered the siege a difficult undertaking. The King’s forces were detained a considerable time before the castle, and the spot near the village of Pisecna where the King’s tent stood is still pointed out. Hunger at last forced Zampach to submit, and the Pancír surrendered unconditionally to his King. The depredations committed by John of Smoyno so incensed the King that he gave immediate orders that the Pancír should be hanged. The spot is still shown where the execution took place, and the peasants even—no doubt incorrectly—point out the tree to which the Pancír was hanged. The story of the Pancír, historical in its main points, soon became legendary. His gigantic sword is still shown in the house of the parish priest at Pisecna, and a portrait, obviously belonging to a later period, is pointed out as that of the Pancír in the same place.

The castle of Zampach was destroyed by order of Charles, though apparently not entirely, for as late as the beginning of the present century we read that the vast ruins were used as a quarry for building purposes by the inhabitants of the modern village of Zampach, which is situated at the foot of the hill. But the old castle was never re-built, and quaint legends gathered round the deserted spot. One of these refers to the “Devil’s Bridge.” We are told that one of the lords of Zampach was inspired with guilty love for the fair châtelaine of the neighbouring castle of Landsberg. According to the legend, which is by no means in accordance with the present topographical condition of the country, deep ravines then separated the neighbouring castles. But the devil, ever eager to assist sinners, in one night built a long bridge for the lovers—that is to say, the long-stretching hill known to my English visitors as “The Ridge,” which nearly, though not quite, connects Zampach with Landsberg. From that day the two castles were doomed to ruin. Zampach was destroyed in the manner already mentioned; Landsberg also, we are told, was taken by assault and destroyed shortly after the erection of the Devil’s Bridge.

While, as already mentioned, the castle on