Now, you'd think that some random statement like "You gotta do the frog in Prague" would have gotten lost in the haze of that night along with almost everything else people said. Fortunately it didn't. Thankfully for all of us it stayed with me. But why? Why did this particular line stay with me? Well, because I'd heard it before. I wasn't sure where, but it was familiar, and not just because of the rhyme.
The good news was that by this point I had a fair amount of time on my hands. I had begun my leave from work in order to focus on getting rid of stuff and moving out of my apartment, and all the other necessary planning and activities around the trip, and things were going really well.
Part of this exercise was going through my library and making hard choices about what to keep and what to pass along. So, for the first time in a very long time I was deliberately looking at each book I had, and making a decision. Now, my library has accumulated over my lifetime, and comes from many different sources, and spans a wide variety of subject matter.
One of the books I have is the Malleus Maleficarum, or "Hammer of the Witches". Written in 1486 by Heinrich Kramer, it is a treatise on the prosecution of witches. Well, for whatever reason I decided to take a quick flip through it. I knew I was keeping it for sure, it's just odd, and I like odd books. But for some reason I was feeling compelled to give it a bit of a read. So, glass of red wine in hand (wine goes well with library reduction - helps ease the pain), I began to read.
And there it was.
The frog in Prague. Just a brief reference, but there it was, clear as day: Alzbeta Ulitzka, a fortune teller in Prague, who lived along the golden road, the alchemists alley within the walls of Prague Castle, in the mid 15th century. She was tried as a witch, accused of having turned one of Frederick III of Habsburg's bastard, but beloved sons, into a frog. She was found innocent, but suspicions remained.
I was intrigued by this and decided to do a bit more research on the road (as I've got the time). Eventually I found reference to a legend of a young man who went in search of this "frog in Prague". This source suggested that the reason for Ulitzka having been found innocent was because, she was in fact, not a fortune teller or witch, but an alchemist, and had successfully transmuted lead into gold, and that the whole bit about the bastard son was actually an elaborate ruse on the part of Frederick III to publically discredit and imprison her while actually bringing her into the castle to work for him making more gold to help fund the Bohemian War, in which he finally defeated George of Podebrady. This young man, Jan, had learned that the formula had been hidden "somewhere in Prague" and was determined to seek it out, even though he didn't have the slighest clue as to where to begin.
I actually found this reference, of all places, at that cool book store in Inverness that I talked about previously. I couldn't afford the book that this story was in, but I did give it a quick read, and will try to retell it for you all here.
Jan and the Frog in Prague
Once upon a time a young man named Jan journeyed to Prague in search of his fortune. He had heard tales of hidden riches beyond his imagination and had set out to discover them and return to his home a wealthy man. He didn't know where, and he didn't know how, but when he was a kid he was considered quite the detective, so he had no doubts as to his abilities.
He began, as every search of a great city must, in Prague's main square.
And while he marveled at it's enormity, it's beauty, the spires of Our Lady of Tyn church, and all of it's other many wonders, no obvious direction did this meeting place provide.
Until he chanced upon the famous astronomical clock within the tower of the town hall.
Such an instrument to behold, describing the movement of the stars on it's upper face, and their influence on the those named for each day in it's lower face. Surely this must have a message for him.
Nope. But it sure was perty.
Looking to his left Jan observed the scenes depicted upon this building where it was foretold that a young author of fine skill and existential angst (turned out to be Kafka) would one day live. Perhaps there there would be a clue.
His initial failure, made worse by the mocking sounds of the nearby Dixieland band playing Oh When the Saints...
Not mocking. No. This was a sign. He must look for a saint to guide him.
But who?
He first went to St. Nicholas. This kind saint had two edifices in his honour, one on each side of the river. Certainly if any saint were to guide him it would be he.
Jan entered this great place seeking inspiration for his quest. A hint, a direction, a sign.
Walking about in the quite hush of the holy place Jan heard a voice.
"Seek ye the frog."
He looked to the altar.
He looked to the organ.
He looked to the musical angels of the organ, for musicians had guided him here.
He looked to the likeness of many a holy man.
He looked to the pulpit where the big voices normally come from.
But nothing. With dispair in his heart he looked to the heavens and said "I see nothing".
And the voice responded "Not here you dolt. Do you really think such a quest would be this easy? Seek ye the garden, and then go visit the houses of other saints. Don't bother with the my other place across the river though."
Unfamiliar with Prague, Jan climbed the tower of St. Nicholas to seek out a garden.
He cast his gaze across the city and saw much green space, and, being the lazy bugger that he was he went to the nearest one just down the way.
Entering the Wallenstein Garden, not too distant from the church of St. Nicholas, Jan was immediately struck by it's beauty.
Going to the central arcade he looked the ceiling, for it was adorned with images and could perhaps offer him up a direction. Besides, last time he looked at a ceiling a voice spoke to him, so it was worth a try. Right?
Sadly no. Little did Jan know that it would only work once as the author of his destiny enjoyed multiple devices.
The birds did not speak.
Nor this fierce man.
The fish simply gargled. It was of no help, Perhaps another garden. Or perhaps the aid of another saint.
He went to St. Jacob's but sadly his visioned was blurred, his time hurried, and he came away with little news.
He searched the vineyard and gardens that run across the slope of hill on which perches Prague Castle.
He tasted the sweet nectar of the new grapes, the first pressing of the season, mere weeks old, and tasting like cider, was refreshed, but was not inspired.
He scanned the city from the grandest of vantage points along it's water ways.
Jan walked it's streets and explored it's markets.
Beautiful buildings and many people he saw, but no further did he get in his quest.
He sought out statues to hear their voices.
But they had no faces.
Were indisposed.
Lost in their music.
Or busy pledging their true love to one not of their kind.
Alas you poor, confused, hart.
Jan walked through the evening.
He required sustenance.
He needed help.
Nay! He needed a guide.
Jana was not the guide that Jan sought, but she was the one he found. And all day Jan spent his time walking the city with Jana, as she showed him and others the beauty of her city, and it's many marvels, and regaled them with stories of her life which Jan found astounding.
Jana told of a time under the Soviets when the only type of icecream available was soft icecream. Flavours were chocolate and vanilla, and every so often pistachio. She spoke of learning English, and how her first teachers were the same people who had been teaching her Russian only a few months earlier, themselves having only begun to learn English.
And with accompanying monologue of fascinating information both historical, mythical, personal, and perhaps at times at tad improbable, she showed Jan and others many fascinating things.
Interesting architecture of the modern era.
The famed Charles Bridge, named for Charles IV (or Charles IIII if he were a clock).
Music houses.
Hanging men.
The Jewish Quarter with it's Old New Synagogue, a "new" synagogue that had been built from the bricks of an older one.
And the clock tower near by.
The Kafka museum, brought to you by the letter K.
And the Museum of Communism, brought to you by those who are thankful for the Velvet Revolution of 1989 who saw to the peaceful end of the soviet occupation of what is now the Czech Republic.
Jan was curious if the huntsman and the hart would make it in the long run.
And a restaurant near the river that shows the height the waters rose at times of great floods.
The highest being in 2002.
The beauty of the river and a water wheel.
The absolute coolness of the library.
Buildings that tell the stories of their past.
And the John Lennon wall, that continues to transform daily as new art, names, and thanks are added. Layer upon layer of gratitude to a great man who was an inspiration to young people in Prague as they sought and struggled for their independence.
And to a street that lead to the castle, and although it has it's name and numbers now, is a reminder of a time when homes were identified by the images over the door, and not by a mere number.
The House of the Golden Key, Red Lamb, Golden Chair...
The Green Lobster.
The Three Violins.
The Medusa.
Jana, after a long day of journeying throughout Prague finally lead her group, Jan included, to the gates of Prague Castle.
Jan wondered at a form Tiger Woods would envy.
And there they beheld St. Vitus', a grand cathedral near 600 years in the construction.
Jan was in awe.
But Jana did not stop there.
Jana could not take them into these spaces but walked the group around the castle grounds, amidst the palaces and churches and other buildings, until finally they came to the Golden Road, that road where Ulitzka had done her great deed. That road that had begun Jan's quest, even though he had only just now step foot upon it.
It was then that Jana looked at Jan and said to him,
"I can tell by your strange manner and odd questions that you seek something. And I bet I can guess what it is."
Jan bid her to continue.
"You seek the fortune of Prague, Ulitzka's great gift."
"Yes, I truly do", said Jan, "but I have no idea what I'm searching for. I've looked everywhere, seen many things, and yet, I do not have the faintest clue what I'm trying to see. I hear voices, they tell me things. It's honestly creeping me out a little if you want to know the truth. And still, I don't have a frickin' clue."
"You seek the Frog in Prague", said Jana.
"What what?", replied Jan.
"The Frog in Prague. It's kinda like our version of the number 42."
"I have seen no frogs. Truly. I have looked at statues, fountains, markets, peoples, churches, walls upon walls upon walls of ornamentation. And honestly, it defies all odds as far as I can tell, but I have yet to see one frog. Heck, I even went to see the marionette theatre production of Don Giovanni in hopes that maybe I would see a sign of some kind there, and as far as I could tell, no frogs.
"But you're telling me I need to find the Frog in Prague? Well, then here I am. I will be that frog. Right here, in front of the home of Kafka. May his spirit transform me on the spot. If he can dream a man a cockroach, certainly he can make me a frog."
And Jan assumed the position of the frog.
And Jana did laugh, as she recognized the form.
"I am sorry Jan, that will not work", she said.
"Then what am I to do?", Jan asked in despair.
"You should return here tomorrow, pay the money, and see all of these wonderful places. It is well worth the visit and perhaps you will find what you seek."
And that is precisely what Jan spent almost the entire next day doing.
The next day Jan returned to the castle, and began with St. Vitus Cathedral.
He walked it's exterior.
He went inside and though he was totally gobsmacked by how incredible it was...
... no frogs.
And people, seriously. Gobsmacked. This cathedral punched Jan in the gut and practically brought him to tears.
He searched St. George Basilica.
He checked out cool things in the museum.
A glass cat, copy of something by St. Augustine, pretty necklace, lion on a slavic cross, and skeleton, amongst others. Still no frog.
He walked through the royal palace.
Saw some of the archives...
...the great hall...
... a room painted with all the heraldry and depicting their relations.
No frog.
Jan then went to what he thinks was the Rothenburg Palace, though he really didn't recall given everything else he had been seeing.
It was a place of beauty, with very cool objects like the musical painting/clock thing, and an interesting presentation on the gargoyles of St. Vitus.
But no frog.
Heavy in heart, as his time in Prague was soon done, his feet were weary, his options all but exhausted, and his quest seemingly a failure, Jan looked out the window to admire the view.
And it was then that he remembered the fish.
You remember the fish. Jan had been told to seek a message in the garden, yet there was none to be found. Just this fish gargling at him.
Gargling. Gargoyles.
The fish had provided a sign. Truly he had. Jan must look to the gargoyles that adorned the Cathedrals. But which church. Certainly it must be St. Vitus, such a grand cathedral, and so close to the home of old Ulitzka.
Jan turned and with a fresh set of eyes returned to the gargoyle show in the palace.
And there it was.
The Frog in Prague.
But it wasn't enough to find a picture, he had to see it with his own eyes.
Back out into the castle grounds he sped; directly for St. Vitus and the fulfillment of his quest. Looking up, way up, he began to circle the great cathedral, squinting in the afternoon sun to better see those fantastical creatures that adorned the church.
A hideous man.
Around Jan went, nearly the entire way, and just as he was fearing that he had missed it and would spend an eternity circling this cathedral there it was...
The Frog in Prague.
By this point in his quest Jan had completely forgotten what the entire point to finding this frog was. Some kind of back story involving the potential for gold, or some other type of great wealth seemed to have something to do with why Jan had changed his name and set out on this quest in the first place.
It kinda didn't matter anymore though. His quest was complete and whether he found the secret of some fictional witch turned alchemist concocted from two minutes of research on the internet didn't matter in the slightest.
The true treasure of Prague is that it is a frickin' amazing city.
About the Author
Christopher suffers from a poor memory and attempts to make up for it with an active imagination. His approach appears to work well for blogs and RFP responses alike, though people at work who have to deliver on the crap he made up may disagree with that last part.
Photo credit: Jana, my super awesome guide for a day.
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