ry of
Central Europe shows several instances of attempted breaks from
tradition and striving after a more lasting political re-grouping such
as Ottokar seemed to have aimed at; I hope to return to this subject
later, though I may only touch the fringe of it.

Ottokar's plans were completely upset, first by the death of his
obliging friend Richard of Cornwall, next by events attending and
arising out of the choice of a new Emperor by the German Electors.
Ottokar being a Slav, and a very powerful one at that, was heartily
hated by all German Princes, so they, being in a majority, disallowed
Ottokar's right to vote at all, and elected as Emperor one Rudolph
Count of Habsburg. History of this time was recorded by Germans chiefly,
and they have spared no trouble to blacken Ottokar's character, by which
process Rudolph of Habsburg is made to stand out as a light shining in
the darkness. In Germanic eyes Ottokar's fault was that of being a Slav,
successful and of great ability. I cannot agree with the German
chronicler's estimate of Rudolph. We are expected to accept him as a
modest sort of backwoods peer, the kind that wears flannel next its skin
and keeps its small estates unencumbered. We have also a pretty picture
in verse of this Rudolph. He is described as meeting a priest carrying
the Host, on the bank of a foaming mountain torrent somewhere among the
Alps where the ruins of the Habsburg still show against the sky like an
abandoned hawk's nest; the name probably derives from Habichts Burg,
Hawk's Castle. Rudolph dismounted, placed the priest on his horse and
humbly, cap in hand, led it across the stream. Years after this
picturesque event the priest, carefully disguised, attended the Council
of Electors and at the psychological moment, produced his harp, burst
into song on the subject of Rudolph, and so swayed the Electors that
they offered the German crown to that modest and retiring Habsburg. I
cannot believe this story of the priest among the Electors, and my
disbelief is based on experience of elective bodies. Can you imagine the
Parish Council, in the throes of electing a suitable person to keep the
village pump in order, being confronted by a mysterious stranger who
suddenly interrupts the proceedings by singing the praises of "good old
Jarge" to the accompaniment of an accordion? No, there is something
wrong about that election story; I believe Rudolph was a schemer, and
the whole affair cut and dried before he s