Leo Perutz was an immensely popular writer of the 1920s and 30s who was largely forgotten after his enforced emigration (he was Jewish) to Palestine after the Anschluß (the union of Austria with Nazi Germany in 1938). In the 1970s and 80s he was republished, and many new translations have recently appeared.

After his enforced emigration from Vienna in 1938, nothing by Perutz appeared until By Night under the Stone Bridge in 1953, subtitled ’A novel from old Prague’.

It consists of fourteen chapters, each of which is a novella complete in itself, using stories and legends of the Prague of Emperor Rudolf II (reign: 1576-1612). From the various novellas a story emerges, involving the most famous characters of sixteenth-century Prague: Emperor Rudolf himself, who was more interested in alchemy and art than in ruling, Rabbi Loew, with whom the legend of the golem [a kind of Jewish version of Frankenstein ed.] is associated, and Mordechai Meisl, the fabulously wealthy Jew who financed Rudolf’s art collection. But the real subject of the novel is Prague, especially the Prague ghetto, the destruction of which in the name of urban renewal the young Perutz observed as a schoolboy.

The linking story is the love of the Emperor for Esther, the beautiful wife of Mordechai Meisl, whom he saw when riding through the Jewish quarter. He calls Rabbi Loew and describes the woman, whose image will not leave him in peace. When the Rabbi replies that she is the wife of a Jew and cannot be his, Rudolf threatens to expel the Jews from all his lands. To protect the Jews, the Rabbi uses magic to fulfil the Emperor’s desire: he plants a rose and a rosemary bush on the banks of the Moldau, under the great stone bridge, and says a magic formula over them. The two plants intertwine, and every night the Emperor dreams he is in Esther’s arms. But, although only fulfilled in dreams, their love is still sinful, and the Lord sends the plague to the Jewish ghetto, until Rabbi Loew pulls up the rosemary bush and throws it into the Moldau.

Around this love story, which he weaves from a few delicate threads, Perutz has painted a lively picture of the Bohemian capital at the beginning of the seventeenth century, just before the religious wars were to deprive it of much of its glory. The ghetto, palaces, streets and squares are thronged with soldiers, beggars, minstrels, clowns, alchemists, nobles, among whom historical figures such as the astronomer Kepler and the young Wallenstein (a famous General in the Thirty Year’s War) appear. It adds up to a portrait of a civilisation at its vigorous peak, with, behind it, constant reminders that the tragic end of Rudolf was the harbinger of the disasters and destruction of the Thirty Year’s War.

’Young Waldstein (Wallenstein, ed.) smiled, his gloom had vanished, and he couldn’t help thinking of Johannes Kepler, who had told him that not Mars but Venus was going to preside over his adventure.

"As the loveliest of all women has been pleased to choose me as her lover," he began, taking her hand...

"Don’t misunderstand me," the loveliest of all women interrupted. "For one night," she said, freeing her hand and starting to fumble with her dark violet dress. "For one night only, captain, please note. Because I want to be free to do what I choose with myself. But that one night will be worth a hundred to you."

"If," said young Waldstein, without showing much disappointment, "if you have decided to make me your lover for tonight why will you not show me your face, so that I may caress it?"

"Because," said the lady, still fumbling with her dress, "I am more concerned than you think with my reputation... You can ask anything of me tonight, but the mask stays on."

She threw back her head, dropped her arms, and the dark velvet dress slipped to the floor.’ p101

After his enforced emigration from Vienna in 1938, nothing by Perutz appeared until By Night under the Stone Bridge in 1953. Subtitled ‘A novel from old Prague’, it is rather different in structure from his other works. It consists of fourteen chapters, each of which is a novella complete in itself, using stories and legends of the Prague of Emperor Rudolf II (reign: 1576—1612). From the various novellas a story emerges, involving the most famous characters of sixteenth-century Prague: Emperor Rudolf himself, who was more interested in alchemy and art than in ruling, Rabbi Loew, with whom the legend of the golem is associated (see review of Meyrink’s The Golem in this book), and Mordechai Meisl, the fabulously wealthy Jew who financed Rudolf’s art collection. But the real subject of the novel is Prague, especially the Prague ghetto, the destruction of which in the name of urban renewal the young Perutz observed as a schoolboy.

The linking story is the love of the Emperor for Esther, the beautiful wife of Mordechai Meisl, whom he saw when riding through the Jewish quarter. He calls Rabbi Loew and describes the woman, whose image will not leave him in peace. When the Rabbi replies that she is the wife of a Jew and cannot be his, Rudolf threatens to expel the Jews from all his lands. To protect the Jews, the Rabbi uses magic to fulfil the Emperor’s desire: he plants a rose and a rosemary bush on the banks of the Moldau, under the great stone bridge, and says a magic formula over them. The two plants intertwine, and every night the Emperor dreams he is in Esther’s arms. But, although only fulfilled in dreams, their love is still sinful, and the Lord sends the plague to the Jewish ghetto, until Rabbi Loew pulls up the rosemary bush and throws it into the Moldau.

Around this love story, which he weaves from a few delicate threads, Perutz has painted a lively picture of the Bohemian capital at the beginning of the seventeenth century, just before the religious wars were to deprive it of much of its glory. The ghetto, palaces, streets and squares are thronged with soldiers, beggars, minstrels, clowns, alchemists, nobles, among whom historical figures such as the astronomer Kepler and the young Wallenstein (a famous General in the Thirty Year’s War) appear. It adds up to a portrait of a civilisation at its vigorous peak, with, behind it, constant reminders that the tragic end of Rudolf was the harbinger of the disasters and destruction of the Thirty Year’s War.

‘Young Waldstein (Wallenstein, ed.) smiled, his gloom had vanished, and he couldn’t help thinking of Johannes Kepler, who had told him that not Mars but Venus was going to preside over his adventure.

«As the loveliest of all women has been pleased to choose me as her lover,» he began, taking her hand...

«Don’t misunderstand me,» the loveliest of all women interrupted. «For one night,» she said, freeing her hand and starting to fumble with her dark violet dress. «For one night only, captain, please note. Because I want to be free to do what I choose with myself. But that one night will be worth a hundred to you.»

«If,» said young Waldstein, without showing much disappointment, «if you have decided to make me your lover for tonight why will you not show me your face, so that I may caress it?»

«Because,» said the lady, still fumbling with her dress, «I am more concerned than you think with my reputation... You can ask anything of me tonight, but the mask stays on.»

She threw back her head, dropped her arms, and the dark velvet dress slipped to the floor.’ p101