Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City (32 page)
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Authors: Peter Demetz
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The Prague Wyclifites, Jan Hus among them, were well aware that, in challenging the book-burning archbishop, they were able to rely on the protection of court and King, who had his own ax to grind as far as the archbishop was concerned. The Wyclifites and King Václav IV banded together against the Bohemian church hierarchy and the university enemies of the Wyclifites. It was not clear whether, in this temporary and highly unstable alliance, the Wyclifite masters were skillfully manipulating the king against their university enemies, or whether it was the king who used the Prague Wyclifites and their high moral seriousness to serve his international political aims.
King Václav IV (definitely not resembling the English king Edward I, whom Wyclif so admired) had been deposed as Holy Roman Emperor by decision of the prince-electors in 1400, and he was not averse to using the conflicts of the schism between Rome and Avignon to undo his humiliation and to strengthen his dignity and international power by recommending himself as a ruler eager to help restore order to the church. The new Roman pope, Boniface IX, had approved Ruprecht of the Palatinate, Václav’s German adversary, as emperor (and, after Boniface’s death, so did his successors Innocent VII and Gregory XII), and Václav IV had good reason to express sympathy to those cardinals who, weary of the schismatic disorder, wanted to organize a grand council to solve these questions once and for all. His idea was that the council would depose Gregory XII and Benedict XIII of Avignon and elect a single new pope. His problem was that conservatives in the Bohemian church and in the German lands remained loyal to Ruprecht and Gregory XII; in Prague itself, Archbishop Zbyn
k, together with his hierarchy, professed the same ecclesiastical obedience and abhorred the idea that the king of Bohemia should move away from it.
k, together with his hierarchy, professed the same ecclesiastical obedience and abhorred the idea that the king of Bohemia should move away from it.Toward the end of 1408, a French delegation of august church dignitaries, committed to plans for a general council at Pisa, appeared in Prague and at Kutná Hora, a rich and proud silver-mining town west of Prague, where the king then resided, and began discussions about Václav’s neutrality. The king was eager to seize his chance to enhance his international visibility and, perhaps, to be Holy Roman Emperor again, if Gregory XII’s support of Ruprecht would cease to be legitimate. Václav could not hope to be helped by Archbishop Zbyn
k, but, needing political support, he intended to enlist the university’s many learned masters and doctors, and he shrewdly asked for legal advice from them. It was a diplomatic way to find out how much institutional support he could expect; he could not have been entirely surprised to discover that the Bavarian, Saxon, and Polish “nations” were unshaken in their loyalty to Ruprecht and Pope Gregory XII, and that only the Wyclifites, mostly Czechs of the Bohemian “nation,” were willing to support neutrality and the convening of a general council (the less pope, the better).
k, but, needing political support, he intended to enlist the university’s many learned masters and doctors, and he shrewdly asked for legal advice from them. It was a diplomatic way to find out how much institutional support he could expect; he could not have been entirely surprised to discover that the Bavarian, Saxon, and Polish “nations” were unshaken in their loyalty to Ruprecht and Pope Gregory XII, and that only the Wyclifites, mostly Czechs of the Bohemian “nation,” were willing to support neutrality and the convening of a general council (the less pope, the better).In turning to Prague University, the king had the international situation in mind, not the squabbles of the local professors, yet it cannot be said that the Wyclifite masters supported him to further the Czech nation in the modern sense. They were passionately engaged in religious reform,
ever more radical as the years went by, and first of all they wanted to change the university’s power structure, which threatened the advance of their dissenting thought; they also believed—and here the problem of nationality does enter—that this power structure did not entirely correspond to the actual composition of the student body and faculty. King Charles IV had established the university for “loyal inhabitants”
(regnicole fideles)
of the kingdom of Bohemia and for others who wanted to partake of the rich symposia of scholarship in Prague; from the beginning, however, the
regnicole fideles
of whatever language were in a distinct minority while the other three “nations” dominated the examination boards and the most influential university positions. The Saxons (north) comprised students from Saxony, Brandenburg, Frisia, Pomerania, Scandinavia, the Netherlands, and England. The “
natio Polonica”
(east) comprised Poles, Lithuanians, Prussians, Silesians, and Lusatians, whatever their native language. The Bavarian “nation” (south) included not only Bavarians but also Tyroleans, Austrians, Hessians, Swiss, and Lombards. The
“natio Bohemica
,” a rather diverse bunch, included, of course, students from Bohemia and Moravia (both Czech and German speakers), as well as Hungarians, some of whom may have been Slovaks, from the Carpathian countries and the Balkans. At the beginning, the
natio Bohemica—
that is, the
regnicole fideles
addressed by King Charles IV—constituted one-sixth of the total university population, and by the turn of the century, after many students had left for the new universities of Cracow, Vienna, and Heidelberg, the Bohemians increased to at least one-fifth of the academic population. The reformers of the Bohemian “nation” had few chances if the system remained unchanged.
ever more radical as the years went by, and first of all they wanted to change the university’s power structure, which threatened the advance of their dissenting thought; they also believed—and here the problem of nationality does enter—that this power structure did not entirely correspond to the actual composition of the student body and faculty. King Charles IV had established the university for “loyal inhabitants”
(regnicole fideles)
of the kingdom of Bohemia and for others who wanted to partake of the rich symposia of scholarship in Prague; from the beginning, however, the
regnicole fideles
of whatever language were in a distinct minority while the other three “nations” dominated the examination boards and the most influential university positions. The Saxons (north) comprised students from Saxony, Brandenburg, Frisia, Pomerania, Scandinavia, the Netherlands, and England. The “
natio Polonica”
(east) comprised Poles, Lithuanians, Prussians, Silesians, and Lusatians, whatever their native language. The Bavarian “nation” (south) included not only Bavarians but also Tyroleans, Austrians, Hessians, Swiss, and Lombards. The
“natio Bohemica
,” a rather diverse bunch, included, of course, students from Bohemia and Moravia (both Czech and German speakers), as well as Hungarians, some of whom may have been Slovaks, from the Carpathian countries and the Balkans. At the beginning, the
natio Bohemica—
that is, the
regnicole fideles
addressed by King Charles IV—constituted one-sixth of the total university population, and by the turn of the century, after many students had left for the new universities of Cracow, Vienna, and Heidelberg, the Bohemians increased to at least one-fifth of the academic population. The reformers of the Bohemian “nation” had few chances if the system remained unchanged.
The university’s “nations” had quarreled before, but matters had been patched up by administrative compromises, because most of the scholars disliked outside interference in their affairs. The earlier disputes had, of course, concerned appointments, stipends, and benefits—there was not enough money for everybody. Usually, conflicts would erupt about appointments; if the candidate was born in Silesia, for instance, the Bohemians would punctiliously argue that he was not a Bohemian native, but would agree to his appointment provided that any future candidate for the position would be selected from their ranks. In the later 1380s and 1390s, language began to take precedence over territorial place of origin—some scholars may have belonged to the
natio Bohemica
but not all of them were
natione Bohemi
(that is, Czech speakers)—and slowly the principle of national inclusion and exclusion, long opposed by the universalism of the medieval church, began to raise its ugly head. During the reign of
King Charles IV, Archbishop Arnestus had immediately intervened when an Augustinian monastery wanted to restrict its admission of applicants who were Czech speakers, but hardly a generation later, the learned and irritable Adalbertus Ranconis de Ericinio established two fellowships for students in Paris and Oxford but stipulated that they be
natione Bohemi
(that is, Czechs) on their fathers’ and mothers’ sides.
natio Bohemica
but not all of them were
natione Bohemi
(that is, Czech speakers)—and slowly the principle of national inclusion and exclusion, long opposed by the universalism of the medieval church, began to raise its ugly head. During the reign of
King Charles IV, Archbishop Arnestus had immediately intervened when an Augustinian monastery wanted to restrict its admission of applicants who were Czech speakers, but hardly a generation later, the learned and irritable Adalbertus Ranconis de Ericinio established two fellowships for students in Paris and Oxford but stipulated that they be
natione Bohemi
(that is, Czechs) on their fathers’ and mothers’ sides.
When the French delegation appeared at Kutná Hora in late 1408, King Václav IV also invited a delegation of distinguished scholars from Prague University to explore the justification for and support of neutrality in the papal schism. He could not have expected a unified vote from the professors, but he must have been quickly disappointed by the differences among them. This university group comprised, among others, the German rector, two conservative Czechs, and, from the Wyclifite faction, Jan Hus’s friend the lively Master Jeroným, well known internationally. Václav, who hoped for a majority decision in his favor, first assured the Germans that he would never interfere with their privileges but angrily turned (an anti-Wyclifite writer later attested) on the Wyclifites, whom he held responsible for creating problems and threatened to have them burned. Yet his only hope was in these restless Bohemian Wyclifites, for the other three “nations” were totally unwilling to give up their obedience to the Roman pope. For some days, there was considerable lobbying behind the scenes, but on January 18, 1409, the king issued his decree of Kutná Hora, which radically changed the traditional legal structure of Prague University, giving three votes to the Bohemian “nation” and only one to all the other “nations”—disenfranchising the masters of three “nations” with one stroke and elevating the Bohemians to a dominance that enabled him to claim that a majority at the university fully supported his neutrality and the preparations for the Pisa council.
It cannot be said that King Václav IV, of a Luxembourg family and married to a Bavarian princess, was an ardent Czech patriot, but he needed the support of the
natio Bohemica
as much as the Wyclifites needed his backing, and for a time they banded together. The king was not interested in the quarrels between the masters, and the Wyclifites were not chiefly concerned with French cardinals or the election of a new pope. The decree moved between old and new ideas and implications. It may be true that all human beings must love all other beings, the initial sentences say, but necessary love should proceed from well-ordered care, ex
ordinata caritate
, inspiring the king to favor his own before extending his love to others. His own was the
natio Bohemica
, the true heir of the kingdom
(regni
iusta heres), or the legal inhabitants of his kingdom, but these
Bohemians were confronted in new ways
not
with the three traditional “nations” but with one unified
“natio Theutonica
”
consisting of “foreigners and immigrants” (
externi et adveni
)
.
In later Czech history
natio Bohemica
was translated as
eský národ
(Czech nation), reminiscent of if not coinciding with nineteenth-century terminology, but in the historical context of 1409, a double reading of the term was still possible, I believe—the old legal way, relating it to the
incolae
(inhabitants of the kingdom of Bohemia), not excluding speakers of German who had been born and bred in the country; and a new linguistic way, meaning Czech speakers whose parents on both sides were Czech. The text of the decree leaves the interpretation wide open; if it is true that the writer was Jan of Jesenice, the Wyclifites’ legal expert and legal adviser to Jan Hus, it is possible to assume that he deftly addressed the legal and territorial meaning to the ears of the king and the new linguistic interpretation to his own friends in the reform group.
natio Bohemica
as much as the Wyclifites needed his backing, and for a time they banded together. The king was not interested in the quarrels between the masters, and the Wyclifites were not chiefly concerned with French cardinals or the election of a new pope. The decree moved between old and new ideas and implications. It may be true that all human beings must love all other beings, the initial sentences say, but necessary love should proceed from well-ordered care, ex
ordinata caritate
, inspiring the king to favor his own before extending his love to others. His own was the
natio Bohemica
, the true heir of the kingdom
(regni
iusta heres), or the legal inhabitants of his kingdom, but these
Bohemians were confronted in new ways
not
with the three traditional “nations” but with one unified
“natio Theutonica
”
consisting of “foreigners and immigrants” (
externi et adveni
)
.
In later Czech history
natio Bohemica
was translated as
eský národ(Czech nation), reminiscent of if not coinciding with nineteenth-century terminology, but in the historical context of 1409, a double reading of the term was still possible, I believe—the old legal way, relating it to the
incolae
(inhabitants of the kingdom of Bohemia), not excluding speakers of German who had been born and bred in the country; and a new linguistic way, meaning Czech speakers whose parents on both sides were Czech. The text of the decree leaves the interpretation wide open; if it is true that the writer was Jan of Jesenice, the Wyclifites’ legal expert and legal adviser to Jan Hus, it is possible to assume that he deftly addressed the legal and territorial meaning to the ears of the king and the new linguistic interpretation to his own friends in the reform group.
On January 26, the decree was read out at the university, but the Bavarians, Poles, and Saxons were unwilling to give up without a fight. In subsequent negotiations, they suggested that the
natio Bohemica
secede and establish a university of its own (something like this happened in a different situation, when Prague University was divided into two institutions, German and Czech, in 1882), and both sides seriously entertained the possibility that the university could be run by alternating teams of different “nations,” half the year by the Bohemians and the other half by representatives of the others. Pressed for time and suspicious of professors, King Václav IV was not really interested in continuing the debate; his delegates and a few town officials forced the rector to hand over the insignia of the university and, by the king’s order, Zden
k of Laboun and Simon of Tišnov, a friend of Hus, were appointed rector and dean of the faculty of arts. The German-speaking masters and students in the other “nations” had vowed not to submit, and after May 9 in solemn exodus left the university, town, and country. The Prague merchants complained about the loss of so many customers, whatever their language or country of origin. Historians have long discussed the number of those who left Prague; and the old suggestion of thousands of masters and students may be more hyperbolic than precise. Heinrich Denifle, researching the matriculation books of Erfurt and the then newly founded university at Leipzig, where most of the German masters and students were said to have gone, came up with statistical evidence not exactly demonstrating an exodus en masse; recent calculations speak of six hundred or six hundred and fifty people. Yet it is also true that by the exodus Prague University
lost much of its international function and, like many other European universities at the time, became local and national, though not entirely and not in the simple nineteenth-century sense.
natio Bohemica
secede and establish a university of its own (something like this happened in a different situation, when Prague University was divided into two institutions, German and Czech, in 1882), and both sides seriously entertained the possibility that the university could be run by alternating teams of different “nations,” half the year by the Bohemians and the other half by representatives of the others. Pressed for time and suspicious of professors, King Václav IV was not really interested in continuing the debate; his delegates and a few town officials forced the rector to hand over the insignia of the university and, by the king’s order, Zden
k of Laboun and Simon of Tišnov, a friend of Hus, were appointed rector and dean of the faculty of arts. The German-speaking masters and students in the other “nations” had vowed not to submit, and after May 9 in solemn exodus left the university, town, and country. The Prague merchants complained about the loss of so many customers, whatever their language or country of origin. Historians have long discussed the number of those who left Prague; and the old suggestion of thousands of masters and students may be more hyperbolic than precise. Heinrich Denifle, researching the matriculation books of Erfurt and the then newly founded university at Leipzig, where most of the German masters and students were said to have gone, came up with statistical evidence not exactly demonstrating an exodus en masse; recent calculations speak of six hundred or six hundred and fifty people. Yet it is also true that by the exodus Prague Universitylost much of its international function and, like many other European universities at the time, became local and national, though not entirely and not in the simple nineteenth-century sense.
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