in most editions. It has now been proved that the Manuscript of Grüneberg is a falsification dating from the present century, and its genuineness is now no longer maintained by any scholars, though a natural patriotic feeling has rendered it painful to many to admit that this manuscript, which was attributed to the ninth century, and described as "the most ancient document in Bohemian, and indeed in all Slavonic literature," is nothing but a fraudulent imposture.
It is proverbially easy to be wise post eventum, that is, in this case, after the fact of a forgery is recognised, but it is difficult to repress very natural surprise that the mysterious manner in which the Manuscript of Grüneberg first became known did not create greater suspicion than was actually the case. The manuscript was (in 1818) sent anonymously by post to Francis Count Kolovrat-Liebsteinsky, then high burgrave (or governor) of Bohemia. That nobleman had shortly before published an appeal to the Bohemians in favour of the National or Bohemian Museum, of which he was one of the founders, and which had as principal object the preservation of the relics of Bohemian antiquity. It was not until many years later that John Kovár, steward on Count Colloredo's estate of Grüneberg, declared that he had found the manuscript in an outlying room of the castle of Grüneberg; he further stated that he had believed his master, Count Colloredo, to have been so thoroughly German in his feelings that he would have destroyed the manuscript had it been shown to him. It is difficult for others than Bohemians to realise the absurdity of such a statement. The strictly absolutist government of Austria during the first half of the present century inexorably suppressed all public demonstrations
