Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City (36 page)

BOOK: Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes from the Life of a European City
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In 1418, the people of Prague were astonished to see a group of Christians from the north of France arrive in town—fewer than fifty men with their wives and children. It turned out they had been persecuted by the church and had chosen to come to Bohemia, where the word of God was more freely preached than anywhere else. They were welcomed and assisted by Queen Sophia and her women and a few rich people, who visited them to dispense help; the difficulty was that nobody spoke their language and they had among them only a man trained in Latin (vir
latinus)
who read to them from Scripture in their own idiom. However, people soon noticed that the newcomers had strange religious habits. They did not go to church often, did not take communion
sub utraque
specie or were outright indifferent to the Eucharist; the university masters would have been even more dumbfounded if they had been fully aware that these “Picardians” (as they called them) did not believe in the virginity of Mary or in the divinity of Christ, and had totally broken with the doctrine and rites of the church. People in Prague were suspicious, and a moderate Hussite chronicler suggested they were actually “wild wolves in the disguises of sheep.” Ultimately the unwelcome guests left town—nobody really knew when and how—but some of their ideas survived for many years with the Hussites in the countryside and on distant mountains and in remote valleys of Bohemia. It is even less clear whether Gilles Mersault, a cloth cutter from Tournai, came with them then or only two years later, when the Prague radicals were in the ascendancy. But he took it upon himself to return to his Christian brothers at Tournai and Lille to inform them about Hussite Prague, and distributed his own samizdat leaflets at night, challenging the church authorities. He was arrested, tried for heresy, and burned at the stake in 1423.
Increasing international pressure exerted by the church and by Emperor Sigismund threatened the Hussites’ advances just at the time when their attitude and doctrines began distinctly to diverge. Hussite conservatives and moderates, mostly in Prague, and radicals, mostly in the countryside
but with an important stronghold in the New Town, tried to patch up the divergences in theoretical disputes and many meetings, for there was danger of military intervention from abroad. A royal attempt to restore the old order, as the church demanded, noticeably failed in the fall of 1416, yet the enmity of the church was unchanged, and the university masters had good reasons to reaffirm their alliance with the Hussite nobles, who were, however, disturbed by the actions and doctrines of the Hussite left emerging so forcefully in the countryside.
The trouble was that King Václav IV feared that his half brother Sigismund, heir presumptive to the Bohemian throne, who had begun to negotiate with Czech Catholic nobles, would supplant him with the help of the church. So he once again revised his policies in order to show that he did not want to tolerate religious unrest. He sent ambassadors to Rome and to Sigismund, and in 1419 issued a number of decrees suggesting that he meant business. The Catholic parish priests returned with a vengeance, or so it seemed to the Hussite parishioners. They started to clean the churches and wash the altars as if they had been infected by the plague, little choirboys had to repent if they had served the Hussites, members of the reform movement were excluded from the celebration of mass, and extreme unction was refused dying Hussites unless they recanted their beliefs. After the Prague towns lodged a protest at court, King Václav IV relented a little, once again saying that he wanted only peace; he confirmed that communion
sub utraque specie
was to be offered in eight places, among them St. Ambrose, St. Mary of the Snows (in the New Town), and St. Benedict (in the Old Town). This was not enough to placate the ire of the people. Reform was turning to revolt and revolution, and while Jakoubek and the masters fell silent, unwilling as ever to break totally with legitimate secular authority, Jan Želivský, a preacher at St. Mary of the Snows who actively sympathized with the rural radicals, quickly emerged as the first political leader of Prague’s Hussite left.
In the countryside, peasants, craftsmen, and their preachers left their villages and small towns (especially after the churches had been restored to the returning Catholic priests) and began to assemble en masse on mountains and hills to hear the word of God and to receive communion
sub utraque specie.
The Hussites were particularly strong in the south, at Ústí on the Lužnice River, Písek, and near Bechyn
, and they gathered demonstratively at Easter 1419 on a hill called Tábor, after the place where Christ transfigured had appeared to three of his disciples (Matthew 17: 1—8). Chroniclers say that they “built tents in the manner of a chapel” and held services, the men separate from the women and children, divided
among themselves the food they had brought, serenely and calmly addressed one another as brother and sister; gaming, drinking, dancing, and dicing were severely frowned on. Later, other groups gathered on hills they called Mount Horeb or Mount Olivet, and as young preachers, the disciples of the Prague masters, exhorted the crowds to resist the royal decrees, evangelical love of peace rapidly gave way to new belligerence, a growing enmity to the Prague masters, and adventist and chiliast ideas of the coming of the Lord to change the world once and for all. On July 22, 1419, a mass meeting was held on Tábor Hill of tens of thousands of enthusiastic and armed radicals from all regions of Bohemia and Prague, especially the New Town. The militants were out in force, and it is more than probable that among the assembled preachers was Jan Želivský, eager for political resistance and discussion of a plan to rise against the king, or at least by limited action to signal that the moment of rebellion was near.
On Sunday morning, July 30, a week later, people of the Prague Hussite community gathered at St. Mary of the Snows to hear Jan Želivský preach and, once again, to march through the streets in procession to defend the chalice, though the town magistrate had forbidden street demonstrations; many of them carried weapons in case they should meet any opposition. Želivský first preached a provocative sermon on a text from St. John’s Revelation, lamenting the fall of Prague and calling for punishment of the unjust (the notes for his sermon have been preserved); then, holding the Eucharist high in his hands, he led a procession up along the Horse Market (now Wenceslas Square), turned into Št
pánská Ulice and onto St. Stephen, where mass was being celebrated by a priest of the order of the Knights of the Cross with the Red Star. The demonstrators broke down the door and chased away the priest, nearly tore the building down and held their own simple service; this being done, the demonstrators turned down the street, quickly reached the hall of the New Town, and demanded that the councillors release the prisoners recently arrested in street violence. It was 9:30 a.m., and the councillors who, together with a few anti-Hussite burghers, had locked the portal talked to the crowd from the windows above and angered the demonstrators. One chronicle has it that they threw stones, one of which hit Želivský’s monstrance (the same reason given many years before when mobs had invaded the Jewish quarter).
Historians still discuss the question whether Jan Žižka, later the strategist of the Hussite army, was in the crowd by chance or by intention; at any rate, the crowd stormed the tower, took the aldermen and threw them
from the high windows down to the square. Those who did not die when they fell onto the lances and pikes were finished off by clubs, swords, and knives, and their corpses were disfigured; it was said that Jan Želivský stood by with the monstrance held high, urging the killers on. Twelve or thirteen men died, among them the New Town burgomaster and a few councillors and patricians; one man was killed in the torture chamber of the town prison. A royal subchamberlain led three hundred cavalry from Hrad
any Castle to intervene but arrived too late and immediately withdrew from the superior mass of Hussite demonstrators. A proclamation was issued by the insurgents, four urban directors were speedily elected to administer town business, men of means and not necessarily Želivský’s followers, and the seal and chains of office taken from the killed councillors were duly delivered to these newly elected magistrates; royal councillors of Hussite sympathies tried to persuade King Václav (when in his first rage he threatened to kill all the Wyclifites) that he should forgive what had happened. The king complained of pains in his left hand, was unable to take communion because he could no longer swallow, and died of a stroke on August 16, 1419, roaring like a lion, contemporaries assure us.
The death of the king a few days after the brutal revolt of Jan Želivský’s radicals in the New Town raised anxious questions about the future of Bohemia and the course of the reform movement; in Prague, the conflict between those seeking a constitutional resolution and the radicals who were willing to trust their visionary preachers more than the learned university masters spilled out into the streets immediately. In the early morning after the king’s death, unruly crowds, among them the poorest people of the Prague towns, roamed through the streets, devastating churches and chapels almost at random, destroying paintings, organs, and relics. In the afternoon, they set out over the stone bridge to turn their rage against the church and the monastery of the Carthusians, who had been tipped off and were trying in vain to save their books and treasures. The rebellious mob broke into the church, tore up the pictures of Christ and the saints, dispersed the relics, invaded the monastery to ransack its reserves of food, clothes, and wine, and forced the assembled monks to march to the Old Town as a column of prisoners. Dire threats were uttered, especially when the monks dragged themselves over the stone bridge, yet nobody was really hurt, and the priests and monks were delivered into the hands of the Old Town magistrates, who, after some delay, again marched them off, under military guard, to a Cistercian monastery in the countryside
Not all the crowds had left the Carthusian monastery, though. They continued reveling through the night and the next day set the buildings on fire. One of the men, totally drunk, had clothed himself in church vestments, but aldermen arrested him for blasphemy and immediately put him to death. The magistrate in charge was possibly more concerned with political negotiations than with the violence in the street, and the aldermen did not intervene when lusty crowds plundered the Jewish Town on August 19 and turned against the Prague bordellos in the Old (Hampejz) and the New Town (Krakov). (Today’s Krakovská Street, right off Wenceslas Square, reveals nothing of its boisterous past.) The crowds drove out the madams and the women, set fire to the buildings, and literally tore down the houses in the red-light districts. On September .1 the people were angry again (over rumors about a confrontation with Sigismund), invaded the monasteries of St. Francis, so gloriously founded by St. Anežka, and of the Holy Spirit and drove out the nuns, but without doing bodily harm to anyone. In the provinces, excited crowds began to attack and destroy churches and monasteries as their brethren had done in Prague, especially in Plze
(Pilsen), where the Dominican monastery was devastated; at other places too, churches of the Dominicans, the “hounds of God,” were among the first to be attacked.
 
The fall of 1419 was a season of troubling unrest and incipient civil war. The Hussite moderates, led by
en
k of Wartenberk, burgrave of Prague, once again prepared for negotiations with King Sigismund, while radicals inside and outside Prague exerted their own political pressure by continuing the mass meetings; an effort to call these meetings on mountains ever nearer to Prague revealed something of their strategic intentions. On September 7, they congregated on Bzí Mountain, and two weeks later at U K
žk
(At the Crosses), close to the road leading to Prague, where they listened to the radical preacher Václav Koranda; a big group of country and town radicals marched on to Prague and passed through the gates of the Vyšehrad without difficulty. The guests were welcomed to lodge at the cloister of St. Ambrose, in the New Town, and the next meeting was scheduled for Prague itself in early November. The radical guests promptly devastated the Church of St. Michael, in the Old Town (the radical Koranda had an ax to grind with its moderate priest), but open conflict between factions was postponed. The burgrave, wanting peace in order to be able to negotiate with Sigismund from a position of strength, increased the number of troops at Hrad
any Castle and the Vyšehrad; this promptly triggered a violent counteraction by the New Town
crowds, which on October 25 stormed the Vyšehrad. If all the Hussites from the countryside had reached Prague for the scheduled meeting of early November, Hrad
any Castle (where the widow of the king still resided) and the moderates would have been in grave danger, but a commando of Sigismund loyalists ambushed the radicals approaching Prague from the south in a bloody attack. However, many radicals from western and northeastern Bohemia had reached Prague in the meantime, expecting the meeting to take place, and they immediately attacked the royal positions, guarding the stone bridge at the Minor Town, so that radicals could cross the bridge to either the Old or the New Town. In the course of three days and nights, November 4—6, much of the Minor Town was destroyed in a pitched battle between royalists and radicals; for the first time in Prague, artillery pieces, mostly fired from Hrad
any Castle, were used. The Minor Town and the stone bridge were of importance for any river crossing: royalists and radicals clashed at the very point where, two hundred years later, in 1648, the Swedes, in the last battle of the Thirty Years’ War, kept trying to cross the bridge into the heart of Prague.

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