CZECHOSLOVAKIA 



11; 



the ragged skyline, which is Prague's 

 chief charm, is visible and one gets a 

 more intimate view of the spots where 

 history has been made in many a hard- 

 fought fight. The numerous spires re- 

 mind one of the pikes and spears of a 

 warrior host and the domes of the 

 churches suggest the round-topped hel- 

 mets of the Swede invaders. 



When the sun begins to set behind the 

 Petrin, the saw-toothed towers of the 

 cathedral, to which one's gaze so fre- 

 quently returns, stand out dull brown 

 and edged with darker tones against a 

 hazy sky ; but the dun brown buildings 

 beyond the romantic towers of the his- 

 toric bridge of Prague respond to the 

 farewell kiss of the setting sun as do the 

 towering columns of Baalbek, glowing 

 with a mellow light. Then one suddenly 

 realizes why the Bohemians call their be- 

 loved capital Zlata Praha, Golden Prague. 



"thd gathering of thk falcons" 



No rainbow following storm was more 

 colorful than Golden Prague during the 

 Seventh Sokol Congress. Six former 

 festivals had attracted the attention of 

 the world and had, in increasing meas- 

 ure, alarmed the rulers of the crazy-quilt 

 empire of the Hapsburgs. 



The Congress was no longer a thinly 

 veiled challenge to the tyrant's power, 

 but a testimony of triumph to those 

 Czechoslovak volunteers who had fought 

 on many a far-flung battle line and to 

 those others, forced to stay at home, who 

 had tirelessly plotted the overthrow of 

 the hated Hapsburgs. 



One witnessing the gathering of the 

 Sokols, or Falcons, from all parts of the 

 new republic was in danger of thinking 

 that once again he had fallen a willing 

 victim to histrionic craftsmanship, backed 

 by all the persuasive power of mass and 

 color, of movement and music. But the 

 formerly oppressed lands that now con- 

 stitute Czechoslovakia have long been 

 the stage for the preliminary scenes of 

 this stirring drama, and the actors in the 

 moving climax have been life members 

 of a countless cast. 



So when the day of liberation came, 

 and fresh-faced maids wearing the gay 

 costumes of their race grouped them- 

 selves about the base of the ugly, rugged 



monument to Huss which stands in the 

 old town square of Prague, one almost 

 expected those stern features to lighten 

 with triumphant warmth at the joy of 

 the delivery from Teuton tyranny. 



City and program were alike full to 

 overflowing. Participants and spectators 

 came by the hundreds of thousands, most 

 of them bringing their own food with 

 them. Sokols came from Chicago and 

 other parts of America with food drafts, 

 for, without this help from outside, jubi- 

 lation would have brought starvation in 

 its train. 



Miles of crowded cars dumped their 

 polychrome loads in Prague and then 

 rushed away to bring more joyous souls. 

 Most of the visitors had never before 

 seen their beautiful capital, whose 

 bridges, streets, and palace walls are 

 steeped in history. Eager patriots of all 

 ages were massed about every museum, 

 public building, and point of vantage, 

 and diversity of color was furnished by 

 innumerable costumes that would make 

 one think that when the rainbow was de- 

 signed only the softer colors were em- 

 ployed. 



The streets were moving bands of 

 brightest hues, their flag-trimmed flanks 

 a sea of flaming red and dazzling white. 

 with many Stars and Stripes to thrill the 

 visitor from transatlantic scenes. The 

 great avenue, Vaclavske Xamesti, was a 

 sea of surging shapes, moving in form- 

 less masses till the grand parade ar- 

 ranged in regular patterns the chaos of 

 color whose brightness so intrigued the 

 eye (see pages 120 and 121). 



FUNERAL FLAMES FOR TIIK VALIANT 



This noble street, two hundred feet in 

 width and nearly half a mile from end to 

 end, has lately echoed to the tread of 

 many glad parades in which the Czecho- 

 slovak volunteers, now home from war. 

 were greeted by their womenfolk and 

 marched in light-foot ranks between long 

 lines of girls in holiday attire. There 

 also burned the funeral flames, lighted in 

 honor of those who had given their live- 

 to their country's cause, and under the 

 evening sky vast shadowy masses knelt 

 in thankful tribute to those valiant souls 

 who died on foreign soil. But on this 

 day the troubled past was pushed aside 



