< In Place of Conclusion >

Kaplicka
a pilgrim's rest.

A letter from Prague, September 24, 1922!
by Anton Krupicka.
When Anton Krupicka left Bohemia for the United States 34 years ago his homeland was still a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Bohemia was now a part of idependent Czechoslovakia. I am citing from a letter published in Hospodar, which Krupicka wrote during his visit in his homeland.

"V Praze jsem se zdrőel tŕden a pak jsme jel do v’sky P“knŽ OleűnŽ u Horovic. JmŽna n‡draő’ jsou pozm“n“na a j‡ dle polohy vťbec nic nepoznal, musel jsem se prťvodŹ’ho pt‡ti, kde uő jsme, kde őe m‡m vystoupit. Sestoupil jsem z vlaku a rozhl’őel se, ale neupamatoval jsem se na nic. Po zept‡n’ kudy se m‡m ub’rat k mŽ rodnŽ d“din“, pokraŹoval jsem p“sky, neb na n“jakou pż’leőitost ku svezen’ nebylo ani pomyűlen’. Kdyő jsem spatżil prvn’ staven’, musel jsem se zastavit, abych se trochu vzpamatoval z pocitu, jaky se ve mn“ vzm‡hal. Mus’m se v‡m pochlubiti, őe jsem si upż’mn“ zaplakal. Kdyő jsem se trochu uklidnil, vstoupil jsem do vsi a zam’żil k hostinci, kterŽmu ż’kavali "U kupcť". Nenechal jsem se poznat ő‡dnŽmu, nikdo m“ neznal a j‡ tŽő nikoho a tak po 34 letech jsem se ocitl v mŽm rodiűti, kde jsme byl śpln“ ciz’m. Vűichni mi byli nezn‡m’. Kdyő jsem żekl kdo jsem, ti staż’ ovűem se hned na mne upamatovali, ale jakŽ bylo jejich udiven’ a vypt‡v‡n’, nemohu vypsat. Abych se pżiznal, velkŕ dojem na mne uŹinilo, kdyő jsem se ptal, kde jsou ty kapliŹky s obrazy podŽl cest a kż’őe. Byla to vődy pam‡tka, na tom m’st“ se vődy n“co stalo. Bylo mi żeŹeno, őe po pżevratu to dav rozbil a t’m si pomohl. Ba, pżihnal prŕ se i z‡stup na kl‡űter a cht“l vűe rozb’t. Nemohu ten dav pochopit, jak jsou vűichni rozzlobeni a rozh‡r‡ni. Oni asi myslili, jak budou m’t republiku, őe budou mit vűeho dosti, ale to nev“d’, őe mus’ jeden kaődŕ pracovat, aby jim republika mohla d‡ti, co od n’ ő‡daj’."

"I stayed a week in Prague and then I continued to my small village Pekne Olesne near Horovice. The names of the train stations have been changed and I could not orient myself according to the location, I kept asking the ticket agent where are we, where do I have to get off. When I left the train and was looking around but I couldn't remember anything. After I asked which way to my native village I continued on foot, because there the idea of getting a ride was unthinkable. When I noticed the first building, I had to stop to get hold of my emotions which overcame me. I have to boast a bit that I had an honest cry. When I calmed down a little I walked into the village directly to the pub which used to be called "at merchant's". At first I did not tell anybody who I was, nobody recognized me, and I did not recognized anybody either, so after 34 years I found myself in my native village as a complete foreigner. They all were foreigners to me. When I told them who I was the older ones of course remember me immediately. I cannot describe their surprise and their questioning. I was deeply impressed when I asked about all the pilgrims' rests with the images along the roads, or the crosses. They were placed there in a memory of something which happened there. I was told that after the coup d'etat the people broke them and that's how they helped themselves. THere even was a mob of people wanted to destroy the monastery. I cannot understand those people, how they are all so angry and ready to fight. They were under the impression that as soon as they have a republic they will have a plenty of everything but they do not know that each one of them has to work, so that the republic can give them what they are demanding from it."