Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City (35 page)

BOOK: Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City
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When the news from Constance reached Prague and within a few weeks spread through Bohemia and Moravia, friends and foes of Jan Hus gathered to protest the council’s sentence or to uphold its legitimacy. Fifty-eight Hussite barons converged on Prague to hold a protest meeting and on September 2 ceremoniously signed and sealed a forceful document that defended Hus and declared that the accusation of heresy had dishonored the entire land; whoever, of whatever station in life, held that there was heresy in Bohemia was “a son of the devil and the father of lies.” (Eight copies of the document were sent to Constance with 452 seals affixed.) Three days later, on September 5, fifty-five barons (three had evidently changed their minds) agreed to form a league to defend “the law of Christ,” as theologically defined by the masters of Prague University, and a week later the masters, for their part, issued a public statement praising the innocence of Jan Hus. King Vaclav IV was irresolute, as usual, but it was well known in town that important persons at court favored Hussite ideas and demands, including some of the king’s councillors, Queen Sophia (his second wife, another Bavarian princess), and a group of pious women of considerable political influence who had gathered around her, among others, Anna of Frimburg, wife of the master of the mint, Eliška of Krava
, and Anna of Mochov, whose husband had once offered Hus asylum at his castle of Kozí Hrádek.
The Constance council, continuing in session, called the protest of the Hussite League a sorry and grotesque spectacle and demanded that everybody who had signed appear before the cardinals to be investigated. Orthodox opposition against the Hussites stiffened when the council sent Jan Železný, bishop of Litomyšl and an ardent defender of the church, to
Prague (he felt unsafe there, for good reason) to make sure that King Václav’s court declare itself unmistakably in its support and that the heretics submit more speedily. A group of fourteen Catholic nobles gathered on October 1, in response to the Hussite League, to declare its loyalty to king, church, and hierarchy, and the archbishop, under pressure from Constance, a month later renewed a strict interdict on Prague—citing, of all reasons, the continued presence there of Jan of Jesenice, Hus’s onetime legal adviser and, possibly, organizer of the Hussite League. The archbishop’s decree inevitably backfired and, instead of strengthening the Catholic cause, played into the hands of the Hussite clergy. Since masses were not to be celebrated in Prague or sacraments administered, the Hussite clergymen, supported by demonstrative townspeople, immediately moved into the churches and took over the parishes, freely preaching and offering communion
sub utraque specie
—that is, giving both bread and wine to the communicants. The Catholic clergy was forced to seek refuge in the suburbs and orthodox Christians walking there were called “Mohammedans” by the Prague Hussites because, it was said, they were going from Mecca to Medina. The conflict was not made less corrosive by reports from Constance that the council had arrested Master Jeroným of Prague, a flamboyant and tremendously gifted ally and friend of Hus, and tried him for heresy too. Jeroným first recanted, then, in his own melodramatic way, recanted his recantation, and died in Constance at the stake on May 30, 1416.
Among the close friends of Hus and the masters of the university, Jakoubek of St
bro emerged as the most energetic adversary of the Constance council and for some time the undisputed leader of the Hussite reform movement. He was a saintly and often stubborn man of wide-ranging ideas on divinity and politics and faced the uneasy task of keeping together the many factions of the movement, from the conservatives who hoped for an ultimate conciliation with church and emperor to the radicals impatient to break with pope and emperor as soon as possible. Howard Kaminsky, an American historian, believes that the Hussites would not have survived the onslaught of their many enemies had Jakoubek not tried to define a middle course, often against himself. His personal views were radical, yet he felt the necessity not to alienate the more traditional Hussites in the baronial league and among his university colleagues. The chronology of his training runs almost parallel to that of Hus, who was fond of calling him “Kuba,” but he differed intellectually from his friend by his early commitment to the native ideas of Mat
j of Janov. Returning to the Ur-church, as Mat
j and Wyclif had done, Jakoubek had
rediscovered, or was prompted to rediscover, the tradition of the Eucharist
sub utraque specie
and first began, against Hus’s hesitations, to offer the parishioners communion in the shape of simple bread and wine at the Church of St. Martin in the Wall; Hussite priests at the churches of St. Michael, of the Old Town, and of St. Vojt
ch followed his example. The Constance council declared this to be heretical in 1415, and the Hussite movement made a chalice its first symbol, proudly showing it on its standards.
Jakoubek was not a tribune of the people, and he increasingly disliked those of his clerical brethren willing or even eager to exercise worldly power more legitimately represented by the king, town, university, or Hussite gentry. He was a scholar who had to speak and act politically; he seems to have lacked the popular appeal of Jan Hus, whom he also succeeded at the pulpit at the Bethlehem chapel, and only later in life he shifted to writing in Czech rather than in his accustomed and scholarly Latin. Though Jakoubek was resolute in defending the most radical demands of Mat
j of Janov and Wyclif, in practice he disliked the sectarian and outlandish beliefs often adopted on the Hussite left; when the radicals did away with most of the mass and elected their own bishop, irrevocably breaking with the church, Jakoubek openly resisted the move for both theological and pragmatic reasons. At one time, the radicals dominant in Prague forced him to leave town to repent under the supervision of radical priests, and a few revolutionaries may have even conspired to kill him, but he died peacefully on August 10, 1429, back in Prague and among his friends and disciples, still unwavering in his willingness to bring together the diverse followers of his friend Jan Hus. He did not want to see Bohemia totally alienated from shared Christian traditions.
The stories about the life and death of Jan Hus and his friend Jeroným, as well as the strongly organized Bohemian opposition against the Constance council and the Roman church, made Prague a wondrous haven for European dissidents, seekers of truth, itinerant prophets, and religious visionaries. The Holy Inquisition had closed its Prague office in 1415 (it was reopened two centuries later), and while the university had long attracted dissident theologians from Saxony and elsewhere in Germany (never mind the decree of Kutná Hora) there were also other newcomers, individuals from England and an entire group from France, seeking asylum,
an opportunity to join the good fight, or simply wanting to live in peace in a new Christian world. In the Bohemian provinces, radicals often combined Hussite ideas with much older habits of protest against the church and social authority. Long-submerged ideas of a Christian fundamentalism, originally ascribed to the Lyon merchant Peter Waldes, appeared among the Hussites of southern Bohemia, and recent scholarship assumes that the Czechs learned about Waldensian attitudes and ideas (for instance, the denial of purgatory and the unwillingness to take any oath) from German-speaking peasants living along the Austrian-Bohemian border and long persecuted, for their heresies, by the flying courts of the Inquisition. In the southern Bohemian forests, little communities of Adamites were established but quickly destroyed—the men, women, and children killed—by radical Hussites who were revolutionaries but also deeply puritan. Their legendary military leader Jan Žižka reported to Prague that these bestial people believed that God resided in each and every one of them, went about naked or nearly so, danced orgiastically around their fires, and made love when and with whom they wanted. The women tore off the men’s loincloths and screamed, “Let out your prisoner, give me your soul, and accept mine!”
 
Peter of Dresden and Friedrich Eppinge, the first German or rather Saxon dissidents from the Dresden school of the Holy Spirit, came or returned to Prague in 1411, even before Hus had broken with King Václav IV, and were given refuge at the house of the Black Rose on P
kopy, the center of the Bohemian “nation” at Prague University. (Ultranationalist interpreters of the Hussite movement have yet to deal with the ready welcome the Czech masters extended to their German colleagues.) Of Peter of Dresden not much can be said for certain; he was among the early defenders of communion “in both kinds” with communicants being offered the chalice as well as the bread; when he later went on a missionary voyage to Germany, as did so many of his brethren, he was arrested by the Inquisition and put to death. Friedrich Eppinge, who was personally close to Hus, publicly defended Hus’s ideas about the need to study Wyclifite writings in depth before judging his ideas, but he died in 1412 and was not alive to support his friend in the difficult times thereafter. After Eppinge’s death, Master Nicholas of Dresden emerged as the most important and active theologian of the Black Rose school; he was possibly better qualified than any of his friends to grasp fully the complexities of the Prague situation. He was first trained in Dresden but had studied at Prague University since 1400 and may have heard Hus’s sermons at the
Bethlehem chapel in 1402; as Amadeo Molnár suggests in his story of the Waldensian movement, Nicholas had independently studied the history of the church and at Wildungen, in Germany, had offered communion
sub utraque specie
on his own because he believed that it was essential to accept what Christ had done at the Last Supper.
Czech, German, and American scholars of Nicholas and his unusual fate must confront the question whether he was actually a Hussite or a Waldensian, or both. He certainly was a highly gifted theologian and Latin writer and, after the death of Hus, the only person in Prague to compete intellectually with Jakoubek; it is not surprising that for a few years Jakoubek and Nicholas, the Czech and the German, closely collaborated in defining the shared heritage of Hus. Jakoubek, who had to keep in mind his allies among the nobles, the masters, and the patriciate, was eager to temper his radical leanings with appropriate qualifications and pragmatic recommendations, but Nicholas was not burdened by second thoughts about the local political situation or by a need to soften his views. The parting of the ways came, as has been suggested, after the Hussite League was formed in the early fall of 1415—Jakoubek fully aware of the inevitable and practical boundaries of his radical theory, Nicholas now going far beyond Hussite ideas to involve himself in a new belligerence, more than once tinged by a Waldensian fundamentalism which he may have learned earlier in Germany; his total aversion to the idea of purgatory, to the taking of any oath, and to making any distinctions between priests and bishops was unacceptable to the university masters. Jakoubek and his allies wanted a constitutional structure of religion and political life in Bohemia, but Nicholas, not bound by loyalty to the king of Bohemia, lived and was to die for a permanent Christian revolution beyond the confines of any one country. The masters, and Jakoubek, must have felt relieved when he went to Germany in 1416, possibly to work for a union of Hussites and Waldensians. He fell into the hands of the Inquisition, and was burned at the stake in Meissen in 1417.
By that time, the increasing tension between moderates and radicals weighed heavily on the minds of the Prague University masters, and the Prague burgrave,
en
k of Wartenberk, believed it was necessary to ordain young and older priests to strengthen the cause and to integrate those with Waldensian leanings more fully. The archbishop, loyal to the Roman church, could not be approached in the matter, so
en
k, being a man of action, simply kidnapped one of the archbishop’s assistants, brought him to the castle of Lipnice, and told him to ordain the candidates gathered there, including a few German Hussites from the Black Rose.
Among them was Bartholomäus Rautenstock, who first preached to a group of Prague German Hussites but later lived in a little town near the Bohemian border under the protection of the Hussites, and traveled through Germany in the manner of itinerant Waldensian preachers. His friend Johannes Drändorf, of a rich family but choosing voluntary poverty in the name of Christ, was first trained in Saxony and left with the dissidents in 1411 to study at the Black Rose for ten years. He too was ordained at Lipnice, preached in Prague, and was sent to southern Bohemia to work among the German peasants there; long of Waldensian persuasion, he went on missionary trips to Germany like many of his brethren. Peter Turnow, another dissident theologian at the Black Rose, originally came from East Prussia and Saxony, but he left Prague in 1414 for Bologna, where he studied for a while before going on to Greece, then returning via Venice to Prague, much changed by 1423. He wrote a treatise on the rites and teachings of the Greek Orthodox Church, of great interest to his Prague Hussite brethren, and went to teach in Germany too. The Inquisition had been watching these German Hussites closely and, unable to lay hands on them while they worked in Bohemia, caught up with them when they came to preach in Germany. Rautenstock, Drändorf, and Turnow were executed in 1425, but in different German towns. In spite of its medieval bureaucracy, the Holy Inquisition worked quite efficiently.
The English connection had been established early by Czech students and docents who trained at Oxford and brought Wyclif back to Prague; English Wyclifites, materially and politically supported by the magnanimous Sir John Oldcastle, sent copies of Wyclif’s treatises to Prague to replace the ones that Archbishop Zbyn
k had burned. Among the admirers of Wyclif and Sir John was Peter Payne, the principal of St. Edmund Hall, Oxford, who was investigated for his links to Sir John and accused of sedition and high treason; Sir John managed to escape from the Tower of London and hide in the countryside, and Payne left England for Germany, where he was welcomed by the Waldensians; later, after Sir John had been imprisoned again to be executed, Payne went to Prague, where he was welcomed among the masters and taught at the Black Rose. Payne, called “Master English” by his new Prague friends, supported Jakoubek in his earliest fight for the chalice and was quickly entrusted with high functions in which his Wyclifite learning, his disinclination to identify fully with the radicals, as well as his international perspective were of importance. He had difficulties learning Czech and spoke Latin with a strong Oxford accent, yet he was put in charge of important embassies to the court of Poland, to Emperor Sigismund, to the Council of Basel, to
Romania, and, in his old age, to Constantinople; he clearly served the Hussite cause loyally as its minister of foreign affairs. Payne survived all revolutionary changes, wars, and tiring disputations (often lasting three days and longer), and died peacefully in Prague in about 1456 in the Monastery of the Slavs, founded by King Charles IV.

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