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Title: Bohemia, from the earliest times to the fall of national independence in
1620

Author: C. Edmund Maurice

Release date: September 13, 2015 [eBook #49955]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOHEMIA, FROM
THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE FALL OF NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE
IN 1620 ***

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The Story of the Nations.

BOHEMIA.

THE STORY OF THE NATIONS.
1. ROME. By Arthur Gilman, M.A.
2. THE JEWS. By Prof. J. K. Hosmer.
3. GERMANY. By Rev. S. Baring-Gould, M.A.
4. CARTHAGE. By Prof. Alfred J. Church.
5. ALEXANDER’S EMPIRE. By Prof. J. P. Mahaffy.
6. THE MOORS IN SPAIN. By Stanley Lane-Poole.
7. ANCIENT EGYPT. By Prof. George Rawlinson.
8. HUNGARY. By Prof. Arminius Vambéry.
9. THE SARACENS. By Arthur Gilman, M.A.

10. IRELAND. By the Hon. Emily Lawless.
11. CHALDEA. By Zénaïde A. Ragozin.
12. THE GOTHS. By Henry Bradley.
13. ASSYRIA. By Zénaïde A. Ragozin.
14. TURKEY. By Stanley Lane-Poole.
15. HOLLAND. By Prof. J. E. Thorold Rogers.
16. MEDIÆVAL FRANCE. By Gustave Masson.
17. PERSIA. By S. G. W. Benjamin.
18. PHŒNICIA. By Prof. Geo. Rawlinson.
19. MEDIA. By Zénaïde A. Ragozin.
20. THE HANSA TOWNS. By Helen Zimmern.
21. EARLY BRITAIN. By Prof. Alfred J. Church.
22. THE BARBARY CORSAIRS. By Stanley Lane-
Poole.
23. RUSSIA. By W. R. Morfill, M.A.
24. THE JEWS UNDER THE ROMANS. By W. D.
Morrison.
25. SCOTLAND. By John Mackintosh, LL.D.
26. SWITZERLAND. By Mrs. Lina Hug and R.
Stead.
27. MEXICO. By Susan Hale.
28. PORTUGAL. By H. Morse Stephens.
29. THE NORMANS. By Sarah Orne Jewett.
30. THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE. By C. W. C. Oman.
31. SICILY: Phœnician, Greek and Roman. By the
late Prof. E. A. Freeman.
32. THE TUSCAN REPUBLICS. By Bella Duffy.
33. POLAND. By W. R. Morfill, M.A.
34. PARTHIA. By Prof. George Rawlinson.

35. AUSTRALIAN COMMONWEALTH. By
Greville Tregarthen.
36. SPAIN. By H. E. Watts.
37. JAPAN. By David Murray, Ph.D.
38. SOUTH AFRICA. By George M. Theal.
39. VENICE. By Alethea Wiel.
40. THE CRUSADES. By T. A. Archer and C. L.
Kingsford.
41. VEDIC INDIA. By Z. A. Ragozin.
42. WEST INDIES and the SPANISH MAIN. By
James Rodway.
43. BOHEMIA. By C. Edmund Maurice, M.A.
44. THE BALKANS. By W. Miller.
45. CANADA. By Sir J. G. Bourinot, LL.D.
46. BRITISH INDIA. By R. W. Frazer, LL.B.
47. MODERN FRANCE. By André-Le Bon.
48. THE FRANKS. By Lewis Sergeant.
49. AUSTRIA. By Sidney Whitman.
50. MODERN ENGLAND. Before the Reform Bill.
By Justin McCarthy.
51. CHINA. By Prof. R. K. Douglas.
52. MODERN ENGLAND. From the Reform Bill to
the Present Time. By Justin McCarthy.
53. MODERN SPAIN. By Martin A. S. Hume.
54. MODERN ITALY. By Pietro Orsi.
55. NORWAY. By H. H. Boyesen.
56. WALES. By O. M. Edwards.

London: T. FISHER UNWIN, Paternoster Square, E.C.

SMALL RING OF PRAGUE.

BOHEMIA

FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE FALL OF NATIONAL
INDEPENDENCE IN 1620; WITH A SHORT SUMMARY OF LATER
EVENTS

BY

C. EDMUND MAURICE
AUTHOR OF THE “REVOLUTIONS OF 1848-9 IN ITALY, AUSTRIA-HUNGARY, AND GERMANY,”
“RICHARD DE LACY: A TALE OF THE LATER LOLLARDS,” &C.

Corresponding Member of the Royal Bohemian Society of Sciences

SECOND IMPRESSION

London
T. FISHER UNWIN
PATERNOSTER SQUARE

Copyright by T. Fisher Unwin, 1896
(For Great Britain).

PREFACE.
Few countries have been more strangely misunderstood by the average
Englishman than Bohemia has been. The mischievous blunder of some fifteenth
century Frenchman, who confused the gipsies who had just arrived in France
with the nation which was just then startling Europe by its resistance to the
forces of the Empire, has left a deeper mark on the imagination of most of our
countrymen than the martyrdom of Hus or even the sufferings of our own
Princess Elizabeth. The word “Bohemian” has passed into newspaper slang; and
it has been so often quoted in its slang sense by people who ought to be more
careful in their language, that it has really hindered the study of the real country
which it misrepresents. The few who care to hear anything more of a people so
strangely slandered, have often been yet further blinded by their readiness to
accept as absolute truth the prejudices of the German and Magyar opponents of
the Bohemian national feeling. From these sources they have derived an
impression of a set of narrow Ultramontanes, who, oddly enough, combine their
religious bigotries in favour of Roman Catholicism with a reliance on Russia in
political affairs. These prejudices ought certainly to yield to an acquaintance
with the people in their own country. A Roman Catholicism, tempered by an
enthusiasm for Hus and Z̆ iz̆ ka and King George, can scarcely be a very
obscurantist form of creed; and an intense feeling of national distinctness can
hardly be compatible with an anxiety to be absorbed by the great North-eastern
Empire, though undoubtedly it produces a stronger repulsion against the equally
denationalising force of Pan-Germanism. Perhaps a careful study of the history
of a country so much misunderstood will be the best preparation for a fairer
appreciation of its present difficulties.
I have now to thank the many kind friends who have helped me in my work.
Of these the chief helper has been Professor Mourek. During the whole of my
stay at Prague I received every assistance from him which a foreigner studying
in that town could possibly require; and since I have returned to England he has
helped me most energetically in procuring various illustrations necessary for my
book. I have also to thank Count Leo Thun (the cousin of the late Governor of
Bohemia) for many useful hints and introductions. I should also thank Mr.
Custos Borovsky, of the Rudolfinum, for the kindness with which he supplied
me with introductions during my visits to other towns in Bohemia and Moravia.
I should also thank Professor Rez̆ ek for many useful hints, especially about the

difficult reign of Ferdinand I. Professor Kalausek I have to thank for hints about
the earlier period. Professor Tomek I must thank for allowing me to use the map
of Prague which appears in my book. I must also thank Dr. Toman for the use of
the curious pictures of Z̆ iz̆ ka. For help in my work in other towns I must thank
Father Wurm, of Olmütz (Olomouci); Mr. Palliardi, of Znaym (Znojem);
Professor Brettholz, of Brünn (Brno); the Sub-librarian of C̆ aslau; Professor
Lemminger, of Kuttenberg (Kutna Hora); Mr. Gross, of Krumov; Father Fuc̆ ik,
of Prachatice; Professor Strnad, of Pilsen (Plz̆ en); Monsignore Rodler, of
Budweis (Budejóvice); the Keeper of the Archives at Wittingau (Tr̆ ebon̆ ), and
Professor Sedlac̆ ek, of Tabor. I also wish to thank Mr. C̆ elakovsky, of the Town
Archives of Prague, for the suggestion about the relation of the early Utraquist
rising to the differences between Bohemian workmen and German employers
(see Chap. ix. pp. 231, 232).
The question of when and how far to use the Bohemian names of places is
one of some difficulty. My own instinct would be to use them wherever
possible. But it cannot be denied that there are cases in which the German forms
are so well known to English readers, and some in which the Bohemian names
seem so unpronounceable, that it would be affectation to follow the strict rules
of national expression. Praha, of course, has been hopelessly Anglicized into
Prague; and Olomouci, Cheb, Brno, and Plz̆ en have been as certainly
Germanised into Olmütz, Eger, Brünn, and Pilsen. Even in these cases I have on
some occasions added the Bohemian names in brackets. But it was so difficult
to know what names of Bohemian towns are generally known in England, that I
may sometimes seem to have been inconsistent in my practice. Only let me
assure my readers that my wish has been to impress on them the distinctive
character of the Bohemian language, and at the same time to secure the
recognition of any places with whose names they are already familiar.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

I.
From the Earliest Period of Bohemian History to the 1-17
Hungarian Invasion
(-885.)
Characteristics of Bohemian history—Story of Queen Libus̆ a—Early
Slavonic kingdom—The struggle with the Franks—Resistance to
Frankish “conversions”—Boris of Bulgaria and Methodius—The
Cyrillic language—Cyril and Methodius in Moravia—Career of
Svatopluk—Renewed struggle with the Franks—Conversion of
Bor̆ ivoj—The Slavonic ritual—Opposition of Svatopluk and his
courtiers to Methodius—The appeal to the Pope—The “Pilatici”—
Approval of the ritual by John VIII.—Wiching’s fraud—Svatopluk
and Arnulf—Expulsion of the Methodian Christians from Moravia—
Death of Svatopluk—Mojmir and the Slavonic ritual—The Hungarian
invasion.

II.
Bohemian Saints and Warriors in the Tenth Century 18-32
(885-997.)
Bohemian feeling about the saintly and the military character—
Svatopluk’s struggle and fall—Separation of Bohemia from Moravia
—Reigns of Bor̆ ivoj and Vratislav—The heathen reaction under
Drahomíra—Life, death, and character of St. Wenceslaus—Reign of
Boleslav the Cruel—Rise of the Vrs̆ ovici—Boleslav the Pious—Life
and death of St. Adalbert.

III.

Relations of Bohemia to Poland and to the Empire in the 33-66
Eleventh, Twelfth, and Thirteenth Centuries
(997-1253.)
Effect of the Hungarian invasions on the position of Bohemia—The
struggles between Bohemia and Poland—Romantic stories of Oldr̆ ich
and Brac̆ islav—Revival of the Slavonic ritual—Brac̆ islav’s victories
in Poland—The scene in the Church at Gnesen—Invasion of Bohemia
by Henry III.—The Pr̆ emyslovci made hereditary Dukes—Spitihnĕv’s
anti-German policy—Election and policy of Vratislav—The family
opposition and its results—Relations with Henry IV.—The first
Bohemian king—Relations with the Hohenstauffen—Vladislav’s
policy and the opposition of the nobles—Frederick Barbarossa—The
second King of Bohemia—Bohemians in Italy—Summary of
Vladislav’s reign—New disorders—Election of Pr̆ emysl—Divisions
in the Empire and their effect on the Bohemian position—Contests of
King and Priest—Breach between Bohemia and the Empire—
Conquest of Austria by Bohemia—Accession of Ottakar II.

IV.
The Growth of Bohemian Life from Accession of Pr̆ emysl 67-106
Ottakar I. to Death of Pr̆ emysl Ottakar II.
(1198-1278.)
Relative importance of Constitutional questions in different histories
and at different periods—Causes of decline of early Bohemian
liberties—Policy of Pr̆ emysl Ottakar I.—The German settlement in
Poric̆ —Extension of its privileges to other towns—Special position of
Moravia—The town-rights of Brünn—The Mongol invasion—
Collapse of Europe—Pope and Emperor—King Wenceslaus I.—First
check of the Mongols—Impulse given by these events to the
movement for municipal liberty—Towns as a check on the nobles—
Power of the jury—Effect of this movement on trade—On political
capacity—Pr̆ emysl Ottakar II.—His relations to nobles and clergy—
Difficulties between towns and monasteries—Ottakar’s policy in that
respect—His foreign policy—Circumstances of the annexation of
Austria to Bohemia—The marriage with Margaret—Relations of
Ottakar to Vienna—The struggle in and conquest of Styria—Story of

conquest of Carinthia and Carniola—Ottakar’s tyranny in Styria—
Ottakar’s relations with Hungary—Anarchy in the Empire—Refusal
of Imperial Crown by Ottakar—Long discussions and divisions
among the Electors—Circumstances of the election of Rudolf of
Hapsburg—Ottakar’s protest—Pope Gregory X. and Bruno of Olmütz
—The Council of Lyons—Rudolf’s claims on Ottakar’s conquests—
The first war between Ottakar and Rudolf—Surrender of the
conquered lands to Rudolf—Differences about the terms of peace—
Rudolf’s difficulties between towns and archbishops—Falling off of
Rudolf’s supporters—The conspiracy in Vienna and its suppression—
The final war—Battle of the Marchfeld and death of Ottakar—
Estimate of the work of Pr̆ emyslovci—Causes of Ottakar’s fall.

V.
Time of Anarchy in Bohemia from Death of Ottakar II. to 107-
Accession of Charles IV. 129
(1278-1346.)
Rudolf’s moderation as a conqueror—Impossibility of his policy—
Kunigunda and Otto of Brandenburg—Treachery and tyranny of Otto
and his followers—The famine—Return of King Wenceslaus II.—
Zavis̆ of Falkenstein—Marriage of Wenceslaus—Intrigues and death
of Zavis̆ —Policy of Wenceslaus—Death of Rudolf and new divisions
in the Empire—Albert’s concessions and election—Relations of
Wenceslaus to Hungary—Death of Wenceslaus II., and accession and
murder of Wenceslaus III.—Struggles between Rudolf of Hapsburg
and Henry of Carinthia for Bohemia—Election of Henry of
Luxemburg as Emperor—Election of John as King of Bohemia—His
prospects and promises—The Archbishop of Mainz—Henry of Lipa
—The towns and the nobles—Audacity of Henry of Lipa—Return of
John—Civil war in Bohemia—Practical victory of Henry—His
intrigues against Elizabeth—John and the citizens of Prague—
Difficulties of Elizabeth—Prosecution of Bishop John—Cruelty of
John—Charles as Governor of Bohemia—Intrigues of nobles against
him—Resistance of Charles to John—Friendliness of Pope Clement
to John and Charles—The Slavonic ritual—Election of Charles as
Emperor—Battle of Crecy and death of John.

VI.
Reign of Charles IV. 130-
153
(1346-1378.)
Difficulties of explaining Charles’s career by his antecedents—
Influences of his Paris experiences on him—Earlier attempts at
“higher education” in Bohemia—Charles’s aims in founding his
University—His plans—The “Four Nations”—Immediate effects of
the foundation—The New Town of Prague—Foundation of Carlstein
—The Majestas Carolina—Reasons for its withdrawal—Its merits and
defects—Abolition of the fire and water tests—Appeal granted to the
Serfs—Connection of “Charles I.” of Bohemia with “Charles IV.” of
Germany—The Golden Bull—Resistance to the Emperor, and his way
of meeting it—Concession to the House of Hapsburg—Relations of
Charles with young Louis of Bavaria, in the Tyrol, in Brandenburg—
His relations with Italy, Rienzi, Petrarch—Attempt to make the
German Empire hereditary.

VII.
The Reform Movement from the Diet of 1359 to the 154-
Retirement of the Germans from the Prague 187
University
(1359-1409.)
Movements of thought in the thirteenth century—Uncertainty in their
direction—The “Beghards” or “Picards.”—Position of Charles in
relation to religious reform—The Diet of 1359—Charles’s ideas of
reform—Conrad Waldhauser—The Bohemian language question—
Milic of Kromĕr̆ íz̆ —Thomas of S̆ títný—Growth of Bohemian
literature, and opposition of the “Masters” to it—Death of Charles—
Accession and character of Wenceslaus IV.—His relations with the
Pope—His quarrels with the clergy—Archbishop Jenstein’s
opposition—Death of John of Nepomuc and its consequences—
Wenceslaus’s relations with the nobles—Power and policy of the
Rosenbergs—Imprisonment of Wenceslaus by the nobles—John and
Sigismund—Violence of Wenceslaus—Opposition of the Electors to

him—His deposition in 1400 from the Empire—Sigismund’s policy in
Prague—The second imprisonment of Wenceslaus and his escape—
Matthias of Janov—Founding of the Bethlehem Chapel—Early career
of Jan Hus—Relations of the English and Bohemian Reformations to
each other—The Prague University proposals of 1403 against Wyclif
—Attitude of Hus towards Wyclif—Unique theological position of
Hus—Zbynĕk and Hus—Wenceslaus and the Council of Pisa—
Attitude of rival parties—The votes of the “Nations”—Hesitations
and final decision of Wenceslaus—The German resistance to the
decree—The two sides of the question—Retirement of the Germans
from Prague.

VIII.
From the Retirement of the Germans from the University 188-
of Prague to the Death of Hus 220
(1409-1415.)
Injustices of Hus’s opponents in reference to the voting question—
Election of Alexander V.—New attacks on heresy—Hus’s answers—
Queen Sophia—The burning of Wyclif’s books—Wenceslaus and
John XXIII.—Intervention of Sigismund—Pope John’s crusade—The
sale of indulgences—Opposition of Hus—Revolt of his followers
from him—First appearance of Jerom in Bohemian controversy—
Effect of his interference—The treacherous execution of the
opponents of Indulgences—Michael de Causis—Hus’s retirement
from Prague—The “De Ecclesia”—Jakaubek of Kladrau—
Banishment of Pálec̆ and Stanislaus—Intervention of Sigismund—
The safe-conduct—The arrival at Constance—Promises of Pope John
—Michael and Pálec̆ —Imprisonment of Hus—“The Cup for the
laity”—Hus’s letter and its perversion—Sigismund at Constance—
Deposing Popes—Jerom at Constance—The Bishop of Litomys̆ l and
the Bohemian nobles—The trial of June 5th—Of June 7th—
Sigismund’s anger with Hus—June 8th—Deposition of Popes and of
Kings—“Abjure”—Chlum’s handshake—Sigismund’s condemnation
of Hus—Last letters and interviews—Condemnation of “the Cup”—
The final scene at the Council—The martyrdom.

IX.

From the Death of Hus to the First Coronation of 221-
Sigismund 260
(July 6, 1415-July 28, 1420.)
Differences between Hus and his followers—Effect of his death—The
Interdict on Prague and its results—Attitude of Wenceslaus—Of
Sigismund—Jerom’s trial and death—Quarrel with the Council about
the bishopric of Olmütz—Growing differences among the Utraquists
—Nicholaus of Hus—Z̆ iz̆ ka—Effect of their action on Wenceslaus—
Election of Martin V.—End of Council of Constance—Scene between
Z̆ iz̆ ka and Wenceslaus—The “New Town” of Prague—John of Z̆ elív
—The Defenestratio—Anger and death of Wenceslaus—Attitude of
Sigismund—C̆ enek of Wartenberg—Conditions offered to Sigismund
by the Assembly—Queen Sophia—The three parties in Bohemia—
Mode of life of the Taborites—Z̆ iz̆ ka’s character—The appeal for
peace—Differences between the Calixtine nobles and the Calixtine
citizens—Ulric of Rosenberg—First struggle between the nobles and
the Taborites—The compromise—The Kuttenberg persecution—
Sigismund’s demands—Z̆ iz̆ ka’s surrender of Pilsen—“No faith with
heretics”—Sigismund’s lies—C̆ enek’s double treachery—Z̆ iz̆ ka’s
cruelties—The march of the Taborites to Prague—Forcible Reformers
—Sigismund’s retreat—The First anti-Hussite “Crusade”—Frederick
of Hohenzollern and the Margravate of Brandenburg—Differences in
Sigismund’s camp—New burnings of Utraquists—The battle of
Z̆ iz̆ kov Hora—More differences in the camp—The “Four Articles of
Prague”—The discussion—The compromise—Coronation of
Sigismund.

X.
From the First Coronation of Sigismund to the Opening of 261-
the Council of Basel 289
(1420-1431.)
Demands of the Taborites—Peter Payne—John of Z̆ elív—Withdrawal
of Taborites—Differences of the Calixtines with Sigismund—His
retirement from Prague—Nicholaus of Hus—Hynek of Crus̆ ina—The
battle of the Vys̆ ehrad—Differences of the Bohemians from their
enemies in the war—New divisions among the Utraquists—The siege

of R̆ íc̆ an—The “vestment” controversy—Death of Nicholaus of Hus
—Martinek Hauska and Transubstantiation—The Adamites—Z̆ iz̆ ka’s
treatment of them—Capture of Kuttenberg and Jaromír and return of
the nobles to the Utraquists—Resolution of the Assembly about
Sigismund—New quarrels between nobles and citizens—The
“Second Crusade”—The siege of Z̆ atec—The “miracle”—Cruelties of
Sigismund in Moravia—The capture of Kuttenberg—Z̆ iz̆ ka at bay—
The recapture—Z̆ iz̆ ka’s final victory over Sigismund—Tyranny of
John of Z̆ elív in Prague—“Prince Korybut”—Betrayal and death of
John of Z̆ elív—Collapse of the “Third Crusade”—Z̆ iz̆ ka’s struggles
with the nobles—His final victories and death—Procop the Great—
The new war policy of the Bohemians—Pr̆ zibram and Peter Payne—
Korybut’s blunder—John Rokycana—The “Fourth Crusade”—
Cardinal Beaufort—The siege of Mies—The rout of Tachov—New
discussions—Demands for a Council—Death of Martin V.—Cesarini
and the “Fifth Crusade”—The flight from Taus—End of the
“Crusades.”

XI.
From the Opening of the Council of Basel to the Fall of 290-
Tabor 322
(1437-1452.)
Reasons for the meeting of the Council of Basel—More lies of
Sigismund—The peasant risings in France and Germany—Bohemian
towns in German hands—Meeting of the Council—Arrival of
Bohemians in Basel—Rokycana and Peter Payne—Policy of Cardinal
Cesarini—The first meeting—Procop and Cesarini—Rokycana on
“the Cup”—Difference of Rokycana from his colleagues—Peter
Payne—The English opposition—Cesarini sows division among the
Utraquists—End of the first stage of the discussion—Growing
differences—Rokycana and Pr̆ zibram—The delegates from Basel—
Final struggle between the nobles and Procop—Battle of Lipaný and
death of Procop—C̆ apek and the Orphans—Meinhard of Neuhaus—
Negotiations with Sigismund—The “Compacts of Basel”—Election
of Rokycana to the Archbishopric—Restoration of Sigismund—His
new treacheries—Flight of Rokycana—Peter Payne as judge—Effect
of his decision—Revolt of Rohac—Sigismund’s retirement and death

—Struggle between Albert of Austria and Ladislaus of Poland—
Acceptance of Albert’s son Ladislaus as King of Bohemia—Meinhard
and Ptac̆ ek—New discussions between Calixtines and Taborites—
Last appearance of Peter Payne—Story of his imprisonment and
ransom—Rise of George of Podĕbrad—Treachery of the Basel
delegate—Capture of Prague and death of Meinhard—George’s
policy—Opposition and fall of Tabor.

XII.
From the Fall of Tabor to the Death of George of 323-
Podĕbrad 340
(1452-1470.)
George’s attitude towards the young king—Entry of Ladislaus into
Prague—His Catholic sympathies—His death—Candidates for the
throne of Bohemia—Election of George—Significance of this
election in European history—George’s moderation—His relations
with Matthias of Hungary—Pius II. and the Turks—Resistance to
George in Moravia and Silesia—The revolt of Breslau—The
compromise—Increase of George’s power and influence—Pius II.’s
change of feeling—His condemnation of the Compacts of Basel—
Fantinus de Valle and King George—George’s defiance of the Pope—
Frederick III. and King George—Pius and the revolt of Breslau—
Growing opposition in Bohemia to the king—Death of Pius II. and
election of Paul II.—The deferred greeting—The Bull of deposition—
Zdenek of Sternberg—The rebellion of the nobles—Losses of George
—Election of Matthias—The insulting terms of peace—George’s
defiance of Pope and princes—His victories and death—Death of
Rokycana.

XIII.
From the Beginning of the Bohemian Brotherhood to the 341-
Accession of Ferdinand I. to the Throne of Bohemia 373
(1419-1526.)
Parallels between English and Bohemian history—Likeness and
difference between the Bohemian Brothers and the English
“Friends”—Contrast between English and Bohemian traditions—

Peter of Chelc̆ ic—His early career—Relations with Rokycana—
Change of Rokycana’s policy towards the Brothers—Gregory
persecuted by Rokycana—Organisation of the Brotherhood—Further
persecutions—Death of George and accession of Ladislaus II.—
Denunciations by the “Masters” of Prague—Death of Gregory—His
warnings to the Brothers—Growth of the Brotherhood—Lukas of
Prague—Struggle between Lukas and Amos of S̆ tekna—The
compromise with the world—New persecutions—Bohuslav of
Hassenstein—Amos’s denunciations—Ladislaus offends the
Constitutionalists—The protectors of the Brotherhood—The
examination at Prague—The Printing Press—Ladislaus’s appeal to
Moravia, and its repulse—Persecution in Bohemia—Erasmus and the
Brothers—Death of Ladislaus—Decline of freedom in Bohemia—The
struggle between the towns and the nobles—King Louis—Lev of
Roz̆ mital and Pas̆ ek of Wrat—Louis’s reforms—Luther’s appearance
—Luther and Hus—Luther’s warnings to the Utraquists—Gallus
Cahera—Pas̆ ek’s new intrigues—The tyranny in Prague—Louis’s
vain resistance—Lev of Roz̆ mital and Henry of Rosenberg—The
Turkish invasion—Louis’s vain appeal—His flight and death—Battle
of Mohács—Election of Ferdinand I.

XIV.
Reign of Ferdinand I. 374-
405
(1526-1564.)
Questions at issue in Bohemia at the time of Ferdinand’s accession—
Ferdinand’s mistakes—The Turkish war—Ferdinand’s reforms in
Prague—Soliman’s siege of Vienna and its repulse—Final fall of
Pas̆ ek and Cahera—Ferdinand’s aims—The Brothers and the
Anabaptists—Conrad of Krajek—The Confession of the Brotherhood
—John Augusta—Luther’s relations with the Brotherhood—His
defence of their Confession—Ferdinand’s attacks on the Brotherhood
—Utraquist opposition to the “Compacts”—Augusta with Calvin and
Luther—Luther refuses to Germanise Bohemia—Growth of Lutheran
principles in Bohemia—The Bohemians and the Schmalkaldic war—
The League for Bohemian Liberty—The insurrection of 1547—
Consequences of its failure—Renewed persecution of the

Brotherhood—The Litomys̆ l Brothers—Arrest and torture of Augusta
—Ferdinand’s ingenious cruelty—Expulsion of the Brothers from
Bohemia—Their settlement in Poland—Removal to Prussia—Their
treatment in Prussia—Ferdinand’s difficulties with the “local” claims
—The “Estates of the Circles”—The Komora Dvorska and its uses—
Catholics and Utraquists—New torture of Augusta—Ferdinand’s
appeal to Moravia and its repulse—Augusta’s difficulties with the
“Elders”—Protestant hopes from Maximilian—Power of the Jesuits—
New persecution of the Brothers—Augusta’s position—The final
attempt at his conversion—His verbal concession to Utraquism and its
misrepresentation—His last imprisonment and final release—Death of
Ferdinand.

XV.
From the Death of Ferdinand I. to the Beginning of the 406-
Reaction under Rudolf II. 424
(1564-1600.)
Progress of despotism in Bohemia—Ferdinand’s great excuse—The
fall of Utraquism—Character and policy of Maximilian—His special
difficulties—National feeling of the Brotherhood—Blahoslav and
Augusta—Lutheran desire for uniformity—Augusta’s defeat and
death—The “Bohemian Confession”—The Conference of 1575—
Consequences of its failure—Change of policy and death of
Maximilian—Character and tendencies of Rudolf II.—Revival of Art
and Science—Use of it by the Jesuits—Struggle of Jesuits with the
Brothers—Difficulties of the Brotherhood—The expulsion of the
Krajeks and its consequences—Jesuit successes—Resistance of
Moravia—Peter Vok von Rosenberg—General character of the
struggles.

XVI.
From the Beginning of the Reaction to the Death of 425-
Rudolf II. 453
(1600-1612.)
Causes of Rudolf’s change of policy—The Turkish question—Growth
of power of the Komora Dvorska—Rudolf’s insanity—Opposition of

his family to him—The Edict of 1602—of 1604—Bocksay’s
insurrection—Growing opposition to Rudolf—Karl von Z̆ erotin—His
training, character, and policy—Rudolf removes him from office—
His relations with Illyezhazy—His championship of Matthias—
Differences between Rudolf and Matthias—Lichtenstein and Berka—
The Moravian rising—Christian of Anhalt—Z̆ erotin’s feelings about
war—Alliance between Hungary, Moravia, and Austria against Rudolf
—Wenceslaus Budovĕc—His struggles for religious liberty in
Bohemia—His opposition to Matthias—The Assembly of 1608—
Importance and originality of Budovĕc’s demands—Rudolf’s
resistance—Failure of Matthias in Bohemia and success elsewhere—
Lobkovic, Martinic, and Slavata—Adam of Sternberg—Resolution of
Bohemian Protestants to resort to armed resistance—Bohemia and
Silesia—Rudolf’s final resistance to the Protestants—Budovĕc’s
leadership—The Defenders—Peter Vok of Rosenberg—Rudolf’s final
concession—The Letter of Majesty—The Archduke Leopold—The
peacemakers—Concession by Rudolf to Matthias—The Passau plot;
its rise, horrors, and end—Flight of Leopold—Matthias crowned at
Prague—Last hopes and death of Rudolf.

XVII.
From the Death of Rudolf II. to the Battle of the White 454-
Hill 482
(1612-1620.)
Matthias’s difficulties—Policy of Z̆ erotin—Erasmus von Tschernembl
—His differences with Z̆ erotin—Z̆ erotin and Khlesl—Relations of
Bohemia to Moravia and Silesia—Policy of Khlesl—The
Transylvanian question—Khlesl worsted by Z̆ erotin—Election of
Matthias as Emperor and its results—The nobles and the towns—
Results of their quarrels—The provincial question again—“Hapsburgs
or no Hapsburgs?”—New persecution—Ferdinand of Styria—
Khlesl’s change of policy—The Troppau question—Fall of Z̆ erotin—
Election of Ferdinand as King of Bohemia—The renewed persecution
—The Assemblies of 1618—The Defenestratio—The Provisional
Government—Fall of Khlesl—Alliances on both sides—Deaths of
Maximilian and Matthias—Silesia, Lausitz, and Moravia join the
Bohemians—Thurn’s invasion of Austria and its end—Bethlen Gabor,

and the rising in Hungary—Election of Frederick as king—Discontent
of the peasantry with the movement—Difficulties of the Assembly—
Bethlen’s successes and failures—Maximilian of Bavaria—The final
invasion—Battle of the White Hill.

XVIII.
From the Battle of the White Hill to the Present Time 483-
509
Completeness of the overthrow of Bohemian independence in 1620—
Execution of leaders of insurrection—Persecution of Protestant
preachers—Triumph of the Jesuits—Their absolute power—
Destruction of memorials of Protestant leaders—Loc̆ ika’s protest and
death—Resistance and overthrow of Kuttenberg—Z̆ erotin and
Ferdinand—Resistance of Z̆ erotin and Sabovsky—Penal laws against
Protestants—Their expulsion in 1627—Overthrow of constitutional
and municipal liberty and national independence—Crushing out of the
language—Career of Comenius—His life before leaving Bohemia—
His allegory—He settles at Lissa—“Janua aurea”—The “Didactica”—
Invitation to Sweden—Comenius and Hartlib—Success and failure in
England—Milton’s letter to Hartlib—Comenius in Sweden—At
Elbing—Comenius and De Geer—Disappointment at peace of
Westphalia—Election as Bishop of Brotherhood—Effect of his
addresses—His later labours—Results of his work—General
stagnation in Bohemia—Accession of Maria Theresa and its results—
Suppression of the Jesuits—Joseph’s Edict of Toleration—
Shortcomings of his religious policy—Of his educational policy—His
opposition to Constitutional liberty—His abolition of serfdom—
Leopold II.—Revival of Bohemian Literature—Frantis̆ ek Pelc̆ el—
Caspar von Sternberg—Josef Dobrovsky—Leopold II. and
Dobrovsky—The National Museum—The Königinhof MS.—S̆ afarik
and Palacký—The Grünberg MS.—The controversy about these MSS.
—Palacký’s History—The discovery of ancient peasant art—Later
controversies.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

SMALL RING OF PRAGUE Frontispiece
LIBUS̆ A’S BATH JUST BELOW THE VYS̆ EHRAD 9
CYRIL AND METHODIUS, FROM THE WINDOW 13
OF A CHURCH IN CAROLINEN-THAL
TOMB OF ST. LUDMILA 23
CHURCH BUILT BY ST. ADALBERT AT 31
PRACHATICE
RADNICE BRNE: OLD DOOR OF TOWN COUNCIL 73
HOUSE OF BRÜNN
JÍHLAVA (IGLAU), THE GREAT MINING CENTRE 77
IN MORAVIA
CATHEDRAL OF OLMÜTZ ON SITE OF CASTLE 117
WHERE WENCESLAUS III. WAS MURDERED
LIKENESS TAKEN FROM CHAPEL IN CARLSTEIN 131
CARLSTEIN (KARLUV TYN) 135
MAPS SHOWING GROWTH OF PRAGUE UNDER 138, 139
CHARLES IV.
STATUE OF CHARLES IV. NEAR HIS BRIDGE IN 152
PRAGUE
KRUMOV, ONE OF THE CHIEF SEATS OF THE 169
ROSENBERGS
VILLAGE OF HUSINEC 175
HUSINEC, SHOWING COTTAGE WHERE HUS WAS 176
BORN

JAN HUS 179
THE GREAT RING OF PRAGUE. SCENE OF 201
MURDER OF THE OPPONENTS OF THE
INDULGENCE
MARKET-PLACE OF PRACHATICE, THE TOWN 228
WHERE HUS AND Z̆ IZ̆ KA WENT TO SCHOOL
ENTRANCE INTO FORTIFIED PART OF TABOR 237
HOUSE IN TABOR WITH OLD TABORITE 240
COMMUNION TABLE IN FRONT OF IT
FIGURE OF MINER WITH MINING LAMP AND 244
STAFF IN CHURCH OF ST. BARBARA AT
KUTTENBERG (KUTNA HORA)
KUTNA HORA, OFFICE WHERE THE COINS WERE 245
STRUCK BY THE ITALIANS BROUGHT TO
KUTNA HORA BY WENCESLAUS II.
TOWN COUNCIL HOUSE OF PILSEN (PLZ̆ EN) 246
THE CASTLE OF PRAGUE 251
VIEW OF PRAGUE SHOWING Z̆ IZ̆ KA’S HILL TO 256
THE NORTH-EAST
ROAD NEAR TABOR, SHOWING TOWN WALL 263
Z̆ IZ̆ KA ON HORSEBACK AT THE HEAD OF THE 275
FLAIL-BEARING TABORITES (FROM AN OLD
PICTURE COPIED IN DR. TOMAN’S
PAMPHLET)
OLD PICTURE OF Z̆ IZ̆ KA IN HEAVEN (FROM DR. 281
TOMAN’S PAMPHLET)
(CHODI) BOHEMIAN PEASANTS OF THE 287
BAVARIAN BORDER
JOHN ROKYCANA 295
ZNAYM (ZNOJEM), SCENE OF SIGISMUND’S 313
DEATH

GEORGE OF PODĔBRAD, FIRST HERETIC KING 327
OF BOHEMIA
JOHN AUGUSTA 381
MORAVIAN WOMAN 429
HALL IN THE CASTLE OF PRAGUE FROM 468
WHENCE MARTINIC AND SLAVATA WERE
THROWN
PLACE IN FRONT OF TOWN COUNCIL HOUSE OF 485
PRAGUE WHERE THE BOHEMIAN NOBLES
WERE EXECUTED AFTER THE
INSURRECTION
STATUE OF ST. JOHN NEPOMUC 486
CHURCH OF ST. BARBARA AT KUTNA HORA 488
JOHN AMOS KOMENSKY 492
SLOVAK WOMAN FOUND IN PARTS OF MORAVIA 505
AND ALSO IN HUNGARY
BOHEMIAN WOMAN WITH “DOVE” HEAD DRESS 507
AND NATIVE WORK

BOHEMIA AND MORAVIA.

T. Fisher Unwin, Paternoster Square,
London, E.C.

THE STORY OF BOHEMIA.

I.
FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD OF BOHEMIAN HISTORY
TO THE HUNGARIAN INVASION.
(-885.)

The history of a lost nationality is necessarily tragic and can rarely be
commonplace. In the case of Bohemia the interest is increased by the variety of
the parts which she was forced to play, each of which, while of great value to
the world, assisted in some degree to hasten her ruin. Thus, for instance, the
intense desire to maintain her own independent life brought her into collision
with neighbouring States which were determined to crush or to absorb her;
while, on the other hand, her position as the champion of a race, of which she
was but one member, dragged her into further quarrels that were not necessarily
the result of her geographical position. And, lastly, the very desire to maintain
her national existence, and to defend the freedom of her Slavonic kinsmen,
constantly compelled her to mix in the quarrels of that larger world with which
she and they had so little sympathy; and even to accept a share in the
responsibilities of that Empire, which, calling itself Roman, was always
becoming more and more Teutonic, and therefore more anti-Slavonic.
And in that struggle between Teuton and Slav the one thing which, from the
earliest to the latest times, has been the most prized treasure, and the subject of
the fiercest championship of the Bohemian, is his language. Every effort for
constitutional government and national liberty has always directly connected
itself with this aspiration for the preservation, development, and general
recognition of this great right. Sigismund, in the time of his most cruel attempts
to crush out the freedom of his subjects, was denounced as “the enemy of our
language,” rather than of our nation. Hus is honoured, even by Roman Catholic
Bohemians, as the assertor and developer of their language. It was the great
crime of Joseph II. that he desired to destroy it. If we could have talked with a
Bohemian Christian of the ninth or tenth century, we should have found his
deepest feelings stirred by a reference to the language which was then assuming
its first shape; and the same subject has the deepest interest for the Bohemian
patriot of the nineteenth century, now that his language has become one of the
most varied and expressive of modern Europe.

Nor must we forget the connection of the ecclesiastical independence of
Bohemia with her most vivid political life. From the time when the mission of
Cyril and Methodius brought to the front the question of a Slavonic ritual, and
of an ecclesiastical organisation, which was to be separated as far as possible
from Teutonic influences, to the time when Bohemia sank before Ferdinand in
the struggle between national Protestantism and Imperial Romanism, the
questions of Bohemian language and Bohemian self-government were mixed up
continually with the claim to be guided in spiritual things by a clergy who
preached and prayed in the Slavonic language.
Even the earliest traditions show that long before the introduction of
Christianity the Bohemian ideal of national life had been totally different from
that of the surrounding nations. The poem of “The Judgment of Libus̆ a,” which
seems to embody the earliest picture of Bohemian life, is no Iliad or
Niebelungen Lied, no story of robber dens or rapes of the Sabines, but the
representation of a peace-loving nation trying to uphold traditions of communal
ownership of land, and the gentle guidance of the wisest in judicial affairs,
modified by an organised expression of popular opinion.[1]
So great an impression did the poems, in which this ideal is set forth, produce
on the Bohemian mind, that extracts from them are translated at full length by
the chronicler Cosmas, who took an active part in the bustling politics of the
eleventh century, when these ideals must have seemed to belong to a very
distant past.
According to this writer, certain people who had been scattered by the failure
of the Tower of Babel, wandered into Germany where they found various wild
beasts. One party in the course of their wanderings found a plain lying near the
mountain Rip, and between the rivers Ogra (Eger), and Wlitawa (Moldau). This
plain they called Bohemia after the eldest of the party named Boemus. Here
they founded a peaceable and communistic settlement where they desired to
make war on none but the beasts. But, some ambitious men having introduced
the evil of private property, it became necessary to choose a judge to decide the
disputes which now unavoidably arose. So they chose as their judge their best
man named Crocco, who founded a camp. He had three daughters, of whom the
eldest was skilled in medicine, the second was a kind of religious teacher, who
instructed the people in the worship of Oreads and Dryads; while the third,
Libus̆ a, was distinguished for her political wisdom and foresight, and was
supposed to be an inspired prophetess.

Libus̆ a was accordingly chosen to the judicial office on her father’s death.
But Crocco’s formation of a camp seems to have stirred the military spirit in the
Bohemians; and the story which follows clearly indicates the transition from the
earlier and more peaceable stage to the later developments of national
organisation. Two powerful chiefs are disputing for the land, which has come to
them from their father. The question is submitted to Libus̆ a, as the chief judge.
On the day of the trial she appears in great state, summons before her the heads
of the different families or tribes, and submits to them her proposals for settling
this question. She declares that, according to the old custom of their people, the
land ought either to be equally divided between the brothers, or else they ought
to share it in common. The leaders of the tribes, after collecting in some way the
votes of the assembly, decide that the land is to be held in common, basing their
judgment also on the old traditions of the nation. Thereupon the elder of the
disputants rises in anger, and declares that he ought to have retained the land in
right of primogeniture, and further that the Bohemians ought not to submit any
longer to women, who were fitter for receiving the advances of wooers than of
dictating laws to soldiers.
Then follows a scene which seems at once to fix the point of change arrived
at, and to make the circumstances more familiar for ordinary readers by the
parallel which it suggests with a familiar transition to military kingship
recorded in the Second Book of Samuel.
Libus̆ a, anxious to warn her people of the full effect of the course they are
taking, sets forth to them the dangers of a military monarchy. Beginning with a
reference to the story of the petition of the frogs to Jupiter, she reminds them
that it will be more easy to choose a chief than to remove him. “Before him
your knees will tremble, and your tongue cleave to your mouth. You will with
difficulty answer, ‘Yes, sir! yes, sir!’ He will condemn men by his nod without
your judgment being taken; he will cut off the head of one, and throw others
into prison; some of you he will make slaves, and others exactors and torturers;
others, again, he will make cooks or bakers or millers. He will appoint you as
tribunes or centurions or cultivators of his vines and wheat, as armourers and
preparers of skins. He will reduce your sons and daughters to subjection, and
will carry off the best of your horses and mares and cattle to his palace. He will
take what is best from your fields and plains and meadows and vineyards, and
turn them to his own use.” But though the criminal folly of the change proposed
is indicated as clearly by Libus̆ a as by Samuel, yet in both stories we find by a
strange contradiction the same half-mystical enthusiasm for the person of the
first king.

Libus̆ a, unable to resist the popular demand that she should take a husband
and give the Bohemians a king, tells the people to go to a certain village where
they will find a man ploughing with oxen. Him they are to greet as their king,
and his posterity will rule in this land for ever. The messengers plead that they
do not know the way to the village. Libus̆ a answers that if they will follow her
horse it will guide them. They obey; and they at last arrive at the village of
Stadic, where they find Pr̆ emysl ploughing. They call on him to change his
dress and mount the horse, as Queen Libus̆ a and all the people demand him as
their ruler. Pr̆ emysl therefore sets free his oxen, telling them to go whence they
came, and strikes his goad into the ground. The oxen vanish from sight, and the
goad puts forth leaves and fruits. Then Pr̆ emysl comes with the messengers; but
he insists on taking with him his ploughman’s boots, that his successors may be
made humble and merciful by the memory of the state from whence they
sprung; “and these boots,” says Cosmas (writing in the eleventh century), “are
preserved at Vys̆ ehrad to this day in the Duke’s chamber.”
There is another legend which still more quaintly marks this transition from
mild and readily accepted rule to the era of physical force. According to this
story the maidens of Bohemia founded a city which they called Dĕvín from
Devina, “a maiden.” The young men to maintain their independence set up an
opposition town called Hrasten. The intercourse between these rival towns
seems to have been sometimes friendly and sometimes hostile; but always
apparently on equal terms as long as Libus̆ a lived. After her death, however, the
men won the day, and ever afterwards held the women under their control.
But the golden age of Queen Libus̆ a is long past, when we catch sight of the
Bohemians in even the earliest period of authentic history. First we have a dim
vision of a great Slavonic Empire stretching northwards to the Spree, and
eastwards to the Carpathians; of struggles with Avars and Huns, and, above all,
with the Franks. Then suddenly, as the dim mist clears a little, we find that the
Franks have become Christian, and the great struggle between German and
Slav, hinted at already in the poem of “Libus̆ a’s Judgment,” has begun in
earnest. The centre of resistance to the German, however, is not in Bohemia, but
in the neighbouring Slavonic dukedom of Moravia; and it gathers round a
prince named Rostislav, who is encouraging both Moravians and Bohemians to
stand firm against those peculiar ideas of Christianity, which Charles the Great
and his descendants tried to thrust upon reluctant nations by fire and sword.
Some Bohemians had indeed been compelled by Louis, the grandson of Charles
the Great, to accept baptism; and Christian Bohemia owned the authority of the
German Archbishop of Regensburg.[2]

But the Duke of Bohemia, encouraged by Rostislav, still held out against the
Carlovingian form of Christianity; the Moravians defeated Louis in 849, and
Rostislav strengthened his own position as the champion of Slavonic
independence by an alliance with the Bulgarians. This alliance was to produce
results very unexpected at the time by Rostislav, and powerfully affecting the
future of Moravia and Bohemia. Boris, the powerful king of Bulgaria, had
received at his Court a Christian monk named Methodius, the son of a patrician
of Thessalonica. Apparently Methodius had originally been brought to the
Bulgarian Court on account of his artistic talent; but he was also a very zealous
Christian; and when Boris ordered him to paint such a picture, in the hall of his
palace, as would strike terror into all who saw it, Methodius improved the
occasion by painting a picture of the Last Judgment. The inquiries and
explanations that followed prepared the way for the acceptance of the new faith
by the king of Bulgaria and his subjects.

LIBUS̆ A’S BATH JUST BELOW THE VYS̆ EHRAD.

But the Greek missionaries found that the want of a written language
prevented them from giving their Slavonic converts full instruction in the
details of the Christian creed. Methodius, therefore, called in the help of his
brother Cyril, who had been occupied in the conversion of the Chazars, a people
whose country lay a little to the north of the Bulgarian kingdom.
Cyril was a learned monk, who had been trained at the Court of
Constantinople, and was well skilled in various languages. Taking the Greek
alphabet as his basis, but altering its form, he invented a written language for
the Slavonic race, into which he translated a liturgy, several books of the Bible,
and some of the early Fathers.

The news of the conversion of the Bulgarians quickly came to the ears of
Rostislav, for the great Bulgarian kingdom touched the eastern side of Moravia;
and the recent alliance had brought the two peoples into closer intercourse.
Unwelcome as Christianity had seemed to the Moravians, when presented to
them as a demand of Frankish invaders, and taught in an unknown tongue, its
lessons came with a very different force when urged by pious and peaceable
monks, recommended by friendly kinsmen, and expounded in a language
intelligible to the converts. Rostislav no doubt quickly perceived that the new
teaching might form a valuable link in the alliance of the Slavs against their
enemies. He appealed to the Emperor of the East to send Cyril and Methodius
to Moravia; and, when they arrived at the town of Devina, Rostislav and his
followers went out to welcome them; and after Cyril had retired from the
mission, Methodius was recognised by the Pope as Archbishop of Moravia and
Pannonia.
But troubles very soon began for the new-comers. The German party in
Moravia were resentful at the introduction into the churches of what they
considered a barbarous language; and they saw danger to their power, both in
the adoption of a ritual which was understood by the people, and in the
assertion of an episcopal authority which claimed to be independent of the
German bishops. Nor was it only by foreigners that the influence of Cyril and
Methodius was endangered; an opposition was roused even among the
Moravians themselves. Svatopluk, the nephew and rival of Rostislav, seems to
have accepted some kind of nominal Christianity, but unaccompanied by any
change of life, or even by any great reverence for the externals of worship; and
he opposed the new apostles of the Slavs with the greatest fierceness. The
opposition of this ambitious prince no doubt arose at first from his desire to
pose as the champion of the German party, who were undermining his uncle’s
authority. According to one story he had already attempted to poison Rostislav,
and having failed in that purpose he conspired with the Emperor Louis against
him, made him prisoner, and sent him off to the Imperial Court to be tried.
Louis threw Rostislav into prison, and put out his eyes. But Svatopluk, though
he succeeded in seizing the Dukedom, did not long retain the confidence of the
Emperor or the German party. He, in his turn, was deposed and thrown into
prison.
Then the Moravians rose against the Franks, under a man named Slavomir,
who, according to one story, was a pupil of Methodius. The Emperor thereupon
set Svatopluk free, and sent him at the head of an army to suppress the new
rising. Svatopluk betrayed his soldiers to his countrymen, destroyed the German

army, and once more became Duke of Moravia. He now felt it impossible any
longer to pose as the champion of the German party; and he had married the
sister of Duke Bor̆ ivoj, of Bohemia, in order to strengthen the alliance of the
Slavs against the Franks. As a part of his new policy, he was forced, for a time,
to encourage the movement of Methodius; and it was during this period that the
archbishop or one of his followers converted and baptised Bor̆ ivoj, and induced
him to found two churches in memory of St. Clement of Rome, whose remains
Cyril had discovered in his expedition to the Chazars.
There seems some difficulty in ascertaining how far the Slavonic ritual came
into general use in Bohemia at this time. It is tolerably certain, on the one hand,
that Methodius did not desire to oppose the authority of the Bishop of
Regensburg, who claimed to be primate over the Bohemian Christians; and that
bishop, like all the German prelates, was opposed to the spread of the Slavonic
ritual. On the other hand, it is clear that, as Christianity grew in Bohemia, it
connected itself with Slavonic traditions; and we find that in less than a century
from this time the Bohemian congregations had adopted a Slavonic hymn as a
necessary part of their ritual.
But, however slow the progress of Slavonic Christianity may have been in
Bohemia, Methodius does not seem to have excited there that savage hostility
which he continued to provoke in Moravia. Svatopluk and his courtiers were, no
doubt, indignant at the higher morality preached by Methodius; and one of the
claimants of the German Empire, with whom Svatopluk was alternately in
alliance and enmity, resented extremely the authority claimed by Methodius
over Pannonia as well as Moravia. But, in order to strengthen their position, the
opponents of Methodius took advantage of his having come from
Constantinople, to attack him as a rebel against the Pope, and a supporter of the
Greek heresy of the Single Procession.

CYRIL AND METHODIUS, FROM
THE WINDOW OF A CHURCH IN
CAROLINEN-THAL.

The first of these charges was singularly inconsistent with the traditions of
both the brothers, who led the mission to the Slavs. Cyril had been partially
induced to go on his mission to the Chazars by the unfriendly relations which
had arisen between him and the Patriarch of Constantinople. While in the
Chersonesus he had discovered the bones of the Roman saint, Clement, who
had died there; and he had ever since recognised this saint as the special patron
of his mission to the Slavs. After Cyril and Methodius had established
themselves in Moravia, they had applied to Rome for sanction to their work;
and when they had been summoned to the Court of the Pope, in consequence of
this application, Cyril had been so much attracted to the place that he had
entered a Roman monastery, and had abandoned the mission, for the future, to
Methodius. Methodius, on his part, seems to have been little inclined to resist
authority, where no moral or religious principle was concerned. So in 879 he
readily accepted the summons to appear before the Roman Synod, and easily
convinced Pope John VIII. of his willingness to obey him. Methodius was
equally happy in vindicating his orthodoxy in the matter of the Double
Procession.

But when these points had been settled, there still remained the real subjects
of dispute. These were the lawfulness of the Slavonic ritual, and the position of
Methodius as Archbishop of Moravia. Svatopluk had thrown himself with
eagerness into the cause of Methodius’s opponents, and joined in the
denunciation of the Slavonic ritual, declaring that it degraded worship by
connecting it with a barbarous dialect. The champions of the Latin ritual
attempted to strengthen their cause by referring to the inscription written by
Pilate on the Cross in Hebrew and Greek and Latin. This argument brought
them the nickname of Pilatici, or followers of Pilate, while Methodius and his
disciples appealed, in answer, to the authority of the Apostles, who, on the Day
of Pentecost, had uttered in all languages the wonderful works of God. Pope
John seems clearly to have understood that the opposition to Methodius arose
rather from prejudice of race than from ecclesiastical principle; and he
recognised this fact in the Bull which sanctioned the Slavonic ritual. For in this
document he expressly required that all the clergy in the diocese of Moravia and
Pannonia, whether Slav or of whatever race they might be, should be
submissive to the archbishop. A very noteworthy modification was subjoined to
this decision which seemed to stamp a popular and democratic character on the
Slavonic movement. “If Svatopluk,” said the Pope, “and the members of his
Court desire to use the Latin ritual, they may do so still.”
An even more crushing blow to the hopes of the enemies of Methodius was
given in a second decision of the Pope. The German party had persuaded
Svatopluk to appoint a preacher named Wiching as Bishop of Nitra in Pannonia,
thereby hoping at any rate to counterbalance the authority of Methodius. Pope
John, however, decided that he would only recognise this appointment on
condition that Wiching acknowledged the archbishop as his superior; and he
expressly recommended Svatopluk to choose his next bishop with the advice
and consent of Methodius. So alarmed were Wiching and his friends at this
letter from the Pope that they succeeded in suppressing it, before it could reach
Svatopluk; and they forged another in which the Pope was made to say that
Methodius had indeed recanted his heresy about the Double Procession; but that
he was forbidden to use the Slavonic ritual, and that Bishop Wiching was
appointed to carry out the papal decrees.
Methodius denied the genuineness of the document, and wrote to Rome for
another letter. John confirmed his former decree, and summoned Wiching to
Rome to answer for his proceedings. Wiching, however, refused to go; and he
was backed in his opposition both by Svatopluk and by Arnulf, the claimant of

the Empire, whose hold over Pannonia had been one of the chief causes of the
opposition to the episcopal authority of Methodius.
The relations between Methodius and Svatopluk, always hostile, would now
have probably culminated in the death or exile of the archbishop, but that a
quarrel broke out between Svatopluk and Arnulf; and the desire of Svatopluk to
overthrow Arnulf’s influence in Pannonia naturally hindered his action against
Methodius. For the few remaining years of the archbishop’s life, he was able to
carry on his work, both moral and religious, with much less opposition; but
when, after his death, his friends attempted to get his pupil Gorazd appointed as
successor in the archbishopric, Wiching succeeded in stirring up Svatopluk
against him, in renewing the alliance with Arnulf, and finally in securing the
expulsion from Moravia of the leading followers of Methodius. But in spite of
the opposition of dukes and Germans, the Slavonic ritual held its own in
Moravia, and Svatopluk’s son Mojmir became its champion against the bishops
of Salzburg.
Important, however, as the defence of the Slavonic language and ritual was in
the history of Bohemia and Moravia, the enemy against whom it had specially
served as a watchword had ceased to become the object of uncompromising
hostility. A new power had made its way into Europe, more dangerous, for the
moment, to Slavonic unity and Bohemian independence than Frank, Saxon, or
Bavarian; and the Bohemians and Moravians were for a time compelled to
forget their fears and hatred of the Germans, in order to combine with them
against a new enemy.

II.
BOHEMIAN SAINTS AND WARRIORS IN THE TENTH
CENTURY.
(885-997.)

The ideal of life and character hinted at in the Libus̆ in Saud affects, in an
often contradictory way, the popular judgments of the prominent characters of
Bohemian history. So strangely does this tendency manifest itself at more than
one stage of the story, that it would almost seem as if the ordinary conceptions
of national greatness, and sometimes even of independence, were entirely
obscured by the Christian aspiration after a peaceable national life. Kings and
warriors, who had done much to extend the prestige and power of Bohemia, are
remembered mainly for their cruelty and oppression; while saints, who may in
some degree have weakened the sense of Bohemian independence, are not
merely honoured, but are even put forward as the symbols of distinctive
national life. Thus, for instance, Svatopluk, the cruel and unscrupulous
persecutor of Methodius and his followers, might, from the ordinary nationalist
point of view, have been looked upon as the establisher of Slavonic greatness,
the champion of Moravian independence, and even the protector of Bohemia
and Moravia against a cruel and barbarous invader.
Under his rule Moravia had become the centre of a great Slavonic alliance
extending eastwards to Bulgaria and northwards to Magdeburg. The exact
relations between the dukedom of Moravia and the other States referred to may
be difficult to define; but the whole story of his relations with Bohemia shows
that Svatopluk exercised an authority there which was, at least, equal to that
maintained by the German Emperor over many of the states subject to him; and
we may fairly assume that he held a somewhat similar position towards the
other Slavonic States which surrounded him.
Such a position, in the then condition of Europe, could not but excite rivalry
and jealousy among the neighbouring princes; and Arnulf, the Duke of
Pannonia, who had aspired to the throne of the Frankish Empire, was
particularly jealous of a man whose power, as he considered, had been largely
due to the patronage which Arnulf had granted to him. The exact merits of the
numerous quarrels between these princes it is impossible to estimate accurately;

but it is clear that, as Svatopluk gained power, he became more and more
resolved to throw off the authority which Arnulf found difficult to assert. At last
Arnulf, having lost hope of maintaining his authority by his own force, and
perhaps suspecting that Pannonia would itself fall a prey to his rival, resolved to
call in a new ally to his assistance.
The emperors of Constantinople had followed the tradition of the Western
Empire, by playing off their barbarian invaders against one another. And, as the
Romans had used their alliance with the Goths to drive back the hordes of
Attila, so the Emperor of Constantinople had called on the descendants of
Attila’s followers to protect the decaying empire from the inroads of the
Bulgarians.
It was apparently in the latter part of the sixth century that the Hungarians, or,
as some called them, the Turks, had been driven into Europe by the pressure of
other Asiatic races. They had been hospitably received at Constantinople, and,
after various fortunes, had settled, in the eighth century, among the Chazars. But
they were never allowed to remain long in one place; and it was in consequence
of their alliance with the Emperors of the East that they overran Transylvania,
and secured their first settlement in their future kingdom. Even here, however,
they were not allowed to remain quietly, and another tribe succeeded in driving
them out of Transylvania for a time.
It was while this contest was at its height that the new invaders attracted the
attention of Arnulf; and, in the year 892, finding himself in a desperate plight,
he persuaded the Hungarians to join him in an invasion of Moravia. Svatopluk
fought gallantly against his enemies, and more than once repelled them from his
dukedom; but, in 894, he was finally defeated by the combined forces of his
opponents. Then comes in a story which illustrates in a startling manner the
Bohemian feeling that no military successes could atone for acts of cruelty and
treachery. Although Svatopluk was undoubtedly fighting for the independence
of his country, he was seized, according to this legend, with so extreme a fit of
penitence for his crimes, that he fled from the battle to a secret place in the
mountains, where he killed his horse, buried his sword in the ground, and lived
and died a hermit. What gives a still stranger flavour to the legend is the cause
which Cosmas assigns for the Duke’s penitence; for this cause was not his
persecution of Methodius, but his ingratitude to Arnulf.
The ruin of the Moravian dukedom speedily followed. According to one
tradition, Wiching, Svatopluk’s German bishop, was used by Arnulf to stir up
division between the sons of Svatopluk. If so, he must undoubtedly have used

his influence in favour of the younger Svatopluk, and against Mojmir, the
champion of the Slavonic ritual. But, whatever the cause of division, the fact of
the civil war is undoubted; and all the enemies of the country took advantage of
it. In 896 the Hungarians again invaded Moravia, and this time with much
greater success. The struggle was, however, continued for a few years longer,
during which the Emperor endeavoured to assist Mojmir; but at last, in 907,
Mojmir was killed in battle, and the old dukedom of Moravia was completely
destroyed.

TOMB OF ST. LUDMILA.

Although the overthrow of this powerful State broke down, for a time, a
barrier between the savage invaders and the settled governments of Europe, it
seems, strangely enough, to have produced less immediate evil to Bohemia than
to the German principalities. It is, however, easy to understand that the
protection and championship of a neighbouring State by such a ruler as
Svatopluk may have had its disadvantages, both in checking the independence
of the country protected, and in involving it in wars in which it had little
interest. Indeed, it appears as if Bor̆ ivoj and his immediate successors were too
much concerned with the internal struggles of their country, to take much
immediate interest in the apparently larger issues which were being settled in
the neighbouring States. The Bohemian struggles were mainly concerned with
the rivalry between heathens and Christians. The zeal of Bor̆ ivoj for the new
faith soon irritated a large number of his subjects against him; and, being
unwilling to maintain his authority by force of arms, he abdicated in favour of
his son Spitihnĕv. In the latter we seem to catch a glimpse of a premature
champion of toleration, who, while desiring to encourage the progress of
Christianity, resented the excessive influence of the Christian priests, and
declared that he was equally the king of his heathen and Christian subjects
alike. This, however, was a position that it was obviously impossible to
maintain at such a transitional period; and, after Spitihnĕv’s death, Bor̆ ivoj,
being recalled to the throne, resolved that the propagation of his creed should
not again suffer by the laxity of his family. He therefore put his second son,
Vratislav, under the special care of Methodius; and, after Bor̆ ivoj and Methodius
were both dead, Vratislav’s mother, Ludmila, continued to influence him in
favour of the new faith. But the power of Ludmila was counteracted, especially
among the nobles, by her daughter-in-law Drahomíra, who became the centre of
the heathen opposition to Ludmila and the clergy; and she trained her son
Boleslav to follow in her footsteps. Vratislav’s other son, Václav (or, as we call
him, Wenceslaus), was protected from Drahomíra’s influence by his
grandmother Ludmila; and thus the two brothers became the champions, the one
of the Christian, and the other of the heathen party, in the State. The Duke was
so little conscious of the mischief that was brewing that, after building the town
of Bolislava in honour of his younger son, he celebrated the occasion by
building a church in that town in honour of Cyril and Methodius; and he
apparently sanctioned that division of his territory between his sons which was
carried out after his death. No sooner, however, was Vratislav dead, than
Drahomíra commanded the Christians to close their churches; and this order
was speedily followed by a massacre; nor was Wenceslaus able to save even his
grandmother Ludmila from the vengeance of his mother. Indeed, this favourite

saint of the Bohemians seems to have had so little vigour, as a ruler, that he
could not protect even the clergy, whom he most desired to favour, from the
intimidation of Boleslav and Drahomíra. Thus, for instance, when he invited the
Bishop of Regensburg to consecrate a new church at Prague, the bishop was so
terrified by the threats of his enemies that he dared not come. It would, indeed,
be unjust to deny that the position of a Christian Duke in the midst of this
sudden revival of heathenism was a most difficult and dangerous one; nor is
there the smallest ground to suspect Wenceslaus of personal cowardice. On the
contrary, he is represented on two occasions as offering personal combat to an
invading prince, in order to save his country from the evils of war; and no
doubt, according to his lights, he was very willing to sacrifice himself for the
good of Bohemia. Yet one cannot but detect certain weaknesses in his career,
which may well have alarmed some of the stronger, if coarser, statesmen, who
stood near the throne; and though he distinguished himself by many acts of
benevolence and devotion, and succeeded on several occasions in preserving
peace and preventing bloodshed, yet it was not wholly by his virtues that he
excited the indignation of the party led by his brother. The tendency to
encourage those who were engaged in other work to become priests, and his
excessive reliance on the authority of the Emperor, might well have given
occasion to a more reasonable opposition than that which expressed itself in the
mere persecution of the Christians.
Nor is it a wholly satisfactory sign that his piety, like that of Edward the
Confessor, took the form of a contempt for marriage, or, to use the ecclesiastical
phrase, of the zeal for preserving his virginity. He was therefore probably in the
right when he meditated retiring into a Benedictine monastery; but the Pope,
glad enough, no doubt, to secure a Christian Duke on the throne of a half-
converted nation, threw great difficulties in the way of his abdication. His
mother and brother, indignant at the frustration of their hopes, resolved on
murder; and as a first step, to their purpose, they invited Wenceslaus to be
present at the baptism of the son of Boleslav. So unexpected a concession to
Christianity aroused the suspicions of Wenceslaus; but his religion throughout
seems to have had a touch of fatalism, and he went to the feast in the full
expectation of death. While the revelry was at its height, he withdrew from the
table to worship in the church; and it was there that Boleslav found him and
murdered him, while he clung to the door of the church for safety. The murder
was followed by a general massacre of the Christian priests, among whom is
especially mentioned Podiven, the follower known to English readers as having
warmed his feet by treading in the footsteps of his master.[3]

The German Emperor was naturally indignant at the murder of his faithful
protégé; and he exacted from Boleslav, as the price of peace, the recall of the
banished Christians, the renewal of the tribute which he had just remitted to
Wenceslaus, and an oath of allegiance, such as had hitherto been paid to the
Emperor only by German princes. Boleslav was apparently induced to submit to
these severe terms, partly by his fear of the power of the Emperor, partly by a
sense of the danger which was still threatening the civilised States of Europe, a
danger which could only be faced by an alliance with the new ruler who had
arisen in Germany. For while Bor̆ ivoj and his successors had been struggling to
assert their power over their heathen subjects, the old Saxon kingdom had
succeeded in producing a champion of European freedom and civilisation.
Henry the Fowler had thrown off the effete yoke of the Franks, and rallied the
Germans under his banner; he had then routed the Hungarians at the celebrated
battle of Merseburg, and had founded towns, by which a new order of
civilisation was being introduced into Germany. His son Otto was vigorously
carrying on the struggle against the Hungarians; and Boleslav, however much
he might dislike foreign rule, saw that an alliance with Otto was the only hope
for his country. The Hungarians were now advancing into Bohemia, and
Boleslav encountered them on the frontier and completely defeated them. He
then proceeded to suppress a robber tribe who had given much trouble to
Wenceslaus, and who had established a castle on the borders of Bohemia, from
whence they had harassed the country.
The chroniclers declare that Drahomíra was swallowed up in an earthquake,
and perhaps her death removed the chief anti-Christian influence in the life of
Boleslav; for, to whatever motives of conviction or policy the change may have
been due, it is evident that, from this time forward, he not merely abandoned his
persecution of the Christians, but used all his power to encourage their
influence. The son whose baptism had been the occasion of the murder of
Wenceslaus, became a monk; while the second son was trained with such effect
in the principles of Christianity that he afterwards gained the name of Boleslav
the Pious. But to the father of these princes the Bohemian chroniclers are as
inexorable as they had been to Svatopluk; and, while Wenceslaus is
remembered as one of the chief national saints of Bohemia, his brother lives in
history as Boleslav the Cruel.
If the weaknesses of Wenceslaus tend to diminish our sympathies with the
movement of which he is the champion and martyr, we may perhaps feel a more
undivided interest in the next phase of the development of Bohemian
Christianity, and a more unmixed admiration for the saint who represents that

period. There were two demands made by the Christian leaders in Bohemia
which specially connected patriotism with religion. These were the claim for a
Slavonic ritual, and the attempt to establish an independent bishopric at Prague.
But, though both of these claims sprang from the feeling of national
independence, it was only the question of the bishopric, which appealed to such
champions of Bohemia as Boleslav the Cruel. That strong and deep longing for
the protection and development of the national language, which expressed itself,
at this time, in the cry for the Methodian ritual, was not a feeling which the
mere military champions of Bohemia could understand or recognise. The Pope
seems to have been conscious of this division, and to have availed himself of it
to make more grudging concessions to the national feeling than the merits of
Boleslav the Pious, and the memory of St. Wenceslaus might seem to have
demanded. He granted, indeed, the free election of a bishop of Prague, and
sanctioned, at the same time, the foundation of a nunnery of which Boleslav’s
sister was to be abbess; but he clogged the latter concession by the condition
that the Slavonic ritual should not be used in the new nunnery. Perhaps it was a
similar desire for compromise which led Boleslav to recommend to his clergy
and people, for the first bishop, a Saxon named Dettmar, who, however, was
noted for his knowledge of the Bohemian language. Friendship with Saxony
was doubtless attractive to the wiser men of Bohemia, for more than one reason.
It was the centre of that resistance to the Hungarian power which they felt to be
so vital to European civilisation. It contained a large proportion of men of
Slavonic race; and Magdeburg, where Dettmar had been trained, was the great
home of such learning and culture as were then to be found in Germany.
But the fierce heathen spirit, which had been strengthened by Boleslav the
Cruel, could not be suppressed at once either by his conversion, or by the
probably sincerer piety of his son. It is now that the strong and cruel aristocracy
of Bohemia begin to show their power both against king and people. Even in
heathen times we hear of at least one family who claimed a sort of equality with
the royal line, and who continued during the tenth and eleventh centuries to play
much the same part as that of the Douglases in Scotland in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries. There was, however, one important difference between the
cases. With all their selfishness and unscrupulousness, the Douglases always
stood by Scotland against its external enemies, while the Vrs̆ ovici were
continually betraying Bohemia to Pole or German in order to gain their own
ends. Nor were the Vrs̆ ovici the only specimens of a lawless and cruel class; and
Boleslav the Pious and Bishop Dettmar soon incurred the hatred of that class.
The bishop, however, did not long survive his appointment; and he was soon to
be succeeded by a man far more notable in Bohemian history. This man was

Vojtĕch, the son of a powerful Bohemian noble, who was as distinguished for
his virtues as for his wealth and rank. Vojtĕch, by the advice of Dettmar, had
been sent by his parents to study at Magdeburg; and on his entrance into the
clerical profession, he had received from the Archbishop of Magdeburg his
name of Adalbert. When he returned to Bohemia, he was called to succeed
Dettmar in the bishopric of Prague. He soon began to denounce the state of
morals around him. Divorce was frequent; impurity of all kinds terribly rife;
and the nobles, not content with oppression at home, were constantly selling
their unfortunate dependants into slavery. The stern denunciations of Adalbert
soon roused against him the hatred of his own class, which was increased in
bitterness by the rivalry between his family and that of the Vrs̆ ovici.
On one occasion a woman, whom he had saved from her angry husband and
sent into a nunnery, was dragged out and murdered by her husband. Boleslav
desired to repress such violence by the sword; Adalbert at first persuaded him to
abstain from bloodshed; but, when the insurgent nobles built a fortress on the
banks of the Elbe, from which they harassed all the Christians who came that
way, the king felt bound to act; so he marched against the insurgents and
signally defeated them. Adalbert, horrified at being in any way the cause of
bloodshed, fled to Pannonia, which had now been conquered by the Hungarians.

CHURCH BUILT BY ST. ADALBERT AT PRAHATICE.

Geysa, the leading chief of the Hungarians in that district, was a hospitable
and large-minded man, who welcomed strangers heartily. Adalbert used the
opportunity to teach Christianity, and many of the Hungarians were converted.
Amongst other converts was Geysa himself, who consented to have his son
Stephen christened by Adalbert. Over this child Adalbert’s influence was
evidently great; and when Stephen grew up, he became the first Christian king
of Hungary, recognised as such both by Pope and Emperor. From the reign of
St. Stephen the Hungarians themselves reckon their beginning as a settled
monarchy; and thus they owe their change from the condition of a marauding

horde to an orderly and progressive nation, to the teaching of the Bohemian
saint.
Twice Adalbert was recalled to Bohemia, and twice he again left it in disgust.
On the last occasion he took refuge with the King of Poland, and from thence
went to convert the heathen Prussians, by whom he was killed. His body was
brought back by the Poles and buried at Gnesen. Next to the actual memory of
his life, his most notable legacy to his country is the hymn which he wrote in
the native language, and which soon became, and long remained, a kind of war-
cry of Bohemian independence.

III.
RELATIONS OF BOHEMIA TO POLAND AND TO THE
EMPIRE IN THE ELEVENTH, TWELFTH, AND THIRTEENTH
CENTURIES.
(997-1253.)

The invasion of the Hungarians had changed the attitude of Bohemia, as of
other countries, towards the German Empire. The necessity of saving
themselves from the ruin which overwhelmed the dukedom of Moravia,
naturally compelled the Bohemians to recognise their former enemies as their
only sure protectors; and, as the vigorous line of Saxon princes put new force
into the German kingdom, this relation became necessarily closer. But it was
long before the German rulers were able to realise that they could gain any help,
in turn, from the rising dukedom of Bohemia. Torn by the divisions between
heathen and Christian, distracted to an unusual degree by family quarrels,
harassed by powerful neighbours, Bohemia seemed, in the tenth and early part
of the eleventh century, more fitted to be the tool or the prey of the Emperors
than their ally. Nor was it only a weakening of internal security which had been
produced by the Magyar invasion. The break-up of Slavonic unity, by the
overthrow of Svatopluk, had caused a confusion of races in certain districts,
which made them the subject of dispute between rival powers.
Of these mixed lands, the two in which Bohemia was most interested, were
the district of Lusatia (afterwards called the Lausitz), over which she disputed
with Saxony, and the even more variously peopled province of Silesia, which
was the great cause of controversy between Bohemia and Poland. Of these two
subjects of difference the Silesian question was the far more pressing and
important. The common feeling of danger, produced by Hungarian invasion,
had, indeed, affected Poland as much as other European countries; but, as the
raids of the invaders grew less frequent, the sense of union, developed by that
danger, grew weaker; and when the Hungarians began to settle down as a
peaceable and Christian nation, the Poles began to abandon their defensive
attitude, and gradually to become aggressive in their turn.
Nor was the Silesian question the only cause of jealousy between Poland and
Bohemia. The town of Cracow, the former capital of Croatia, was as much

desired by both the rival nations as Silesia could be; since it was important both
for military and political purposes. Moreover those ecclesiastical
considerations, which were always influencing the foreign politics of Bohemia,
played a somewhat important part in the struggle with Poland. The desire of the
Polish Duke to secure the burial of Adalbert at Gnesen had not been wholly due
to religious feelings. The kings and bishops of Poland wished to make Gnesen
the centre of a large diocese, in which Prague should hold a subordinate
position; and an offer of money which the Duke of Poland made to a Bohemian
monastery founded by Adalbert, was no doubt intended as a bribe to the monks,
to induce them to further these schemes of ecclesiastical and political ambition.
These enterprises were unfortunately aided by that treacherous family, the
Vrs̆ ovici, who had already played so fatal a part in their country’s history. They
seem to have again tried to carry out their treasons by stirring up family
jealousy. Young Boleslav, a nephew of Boleslav the Pious, showed himself
eager to assert his claims to the Dukedom of Bohemia. Mĕs̆ ek of Poland
encouraged his kinsman’s intrigues, and, by a sudden surprise, Cracow was
seized, and Silesia was overrun by the Polish troops.
Boleslav the Pious demanded reparation for this outrage, and circumstances
soon gave him the opportunity for revenge. A Russian chief unexpectedly
invaded Poland and laid waste a great part of it. Boleslav the Pious seized this
opportunity to recover Cracow, and he placed there a governor of sufficient
vigour to hold the fortress against all attempts of the Poles to recover it, even
after they had succeeded in making peace with Russia. Indeed the new governor
would willingly have extended the Bohemian territory by making reprisals on
Poland; but this was strictly forbidden by the Duke of Bohemia.
The death of Boleslav the Pious, and the accession to the dukedom of his
weak and profligate son, Boleslav the Third, gave a new opportunity both to
native and foreign intrigues. Indeed the Vrs̆ ovici are represented by some
historians as acting in this reign rather the part of patriotic opponents of a tyrant
than of selfish intriguers for power. It is, however, unfortunately clear that they
did not abandon their intrigues with the Polish pretender; and he was able to
take advantage of the non-payment of the soldiers in the garrison of Cracow to
stir up division in the fortress. By this means he was once more able to surprise
the garrison, and to put all the Bohemians to the sword. Great confusion now
followed; the German Emperor, Henry II., seized the opportunity of fishing in
troubled waters, and something like a conquest of Bohemia by Poland was for a
time the result of this struggle. The accounts, however, of the details of the
struggle seem uncertain and contradictory; and it is not until the Bohemians had

in some measure re-established their independence that we once more find
ourselves on firm ground.
Strangely enough, it is just when we have reached a point at which modern
research and early tradition seem to be in practical harmony that we light upon a
series of stories of the most romantic kind. Oldr̆ ich, the brother of Boleslav III.,
had been established on the throne after the expulsion of the Poles. He seems to
have been an eccentric prince, given to somewhat unconventional explorations
of his kingdom. In one of these wanderings he came upon a handsome peasant-
girl washing clothes in a stream. He at once fell in love with her, and soon after
woo’d, won, and married her. The great ladies of the court at first resented the
arrival of the peasant-queen; but in time the grace and courtesy of Beatrix broke
down the opposition of her jealous critics, and the birth of her son Brac̆ islav
was celebrated with splendid feasts. Brac̆ islav was to be the future hero and
restorer of the greatness of his country; and, as usual, the political and military
revival of Bohemia is preluded by a reawakening of the interest in the national
language.
In another of his wanderings Oldr̆ ich found, in the depth of the forest, an old
hermit, to whom he confessed his sins; and he was so much impressed by the
power and saintliness of the man, that he persuaded him to leave his solitary
life, to return to the town, and to assist the duke and other pious men in
founding the monastery of Sázava. He soon found that this hermit had in his
keeping copies of the old Slavonic services introduced into Bohemia by
Methodius, which had doubtless disappeared from the country in the recent
troubles. Encouraged by Oldr̆ ich, and at a later time by his son Brac̆ islav, the
national ritual was rapidly extended from Sázava to other churches.
Oldr̆ ich bequeathed to his son both his zeal for the national language and the
national independence, and also the love of romantic adventure. Even before his
accession to the throne, Brac̆ islav had attracted attention as a hero of romance.
He had made a sudden expedition to the nunnery of Schweinfurt, to carry off
from thence the beautiful daughter of a German Count. The gate of the nunnery
was secured by a bar; but Brac̆ islav cut through the bar with his sword, and
carried off his bride in triumph, though some of his followers were cut off and
killed. But the great purpose of his life was to recover the ground which
Bohemia had lost in her struggle with Poland. Even before his accession to the
throne, he had reconquered the greater part of the province of Moravia, which
the Poles had torn away from Bohemia; and, as soon as he became duke, he
resolved to carry his plans yet further, and to invade Poland itself. The death of
Duke Casimir of Poland, and the infancy of his successor, facilitated this

expedition. Brac̆ islav retook Cracow by storm, overran much of Silesia, and
transplanted many of the Poles to Bohemia, where he suffered them to maintain
their old laws and customs. He then marched to Gnesen, the centre of the
intended scheme for establishing the ecclesiastical supremacy of Poland over
Bohemia. The city was ill-defended, and Brac̆ islav entered it in triumph.
Then followed one of those scenes which show how strangely the fiercer
elements in the Bohemian character were checked and crossed by influences
like those of St. Wenceslaus and St. Adalbert. It will be remembered that the
body of the latter saint had been buried by the king of Poland at Gnesen, and
Brac̆ islav had many motives for desiring to recover so valuable a possession.
But the scene which preceded the restoration of the national saint to the country,
which had so ill-treated him during his life, is curiously unlike the ordinary
performances of a military conqueror; and, if there are any who think that such
a mediæval legend is beneath the dignity of history, they should remember that
the historian Cosmas, who has preserved it for us, was a man actively engaged
in the ordinary political affairs of his time.
At first the Bohemians were disposed to carry things with a high hand; and,
in spite of the warnings of the chief pastor of the town, they tore down the altar
which covered the body, in order to seize it the more easily. For this offence
they were struck dumb and blind for the space of three hours; and on recovering
their senses they consented to submit to a three days’ fast before taking further
action. On the third day the same priest, who had warned them of the
consequences of their sacrilege, told them that he had had a vision of St.
Adalbert; and that the saint had bidden him to tell the Duke and his companions
that the Father in Heaven would give them what they asked, if they did not
repeat those evil deeds which they abjured in their baptism. On the morning
following this announcement, the Duke and his followers entered the church
and prostrated themselves before the tomb of St. Adalbert. Then the Duke arose
and addressed them as follows: “Do you wish to amend your errors and to turn
from evil works to wisdom?” To this they answered, “We are prepared to amend
whatever our fathers or we have done wrong against this saint of God, and to
cease from every evil work.” Then the Duke, extending his hand over the sacred
tomb, addressed the crowd as follows: “Stretch out, my brothers, your hands to
God, and listen to my discourses, which I wish you to confirm your faith in by
an oath. Therefore, let this be my first and most urgent decree; that your
marriages, which you have hitherto treated as if they were mere fornications,
and like the union of brute animals, should in future be made lawful, according
to canonical rules, private and indissoluble, so that each husband shall be

content with one wife, and each wife with one husband. But, if a wife shall
despise a husband, or a husband his wife, and if a quarrel between them shall
boil over into a separation, then I do not will that the one of them that refuses to
return to lawful union shall be made a slave according to the custom of our
land; but rather that, by the slavery of our unchangeable decree, such persons,
whoever they may be, shall be carried into Hungary; and it shall not be
permitted to them to buy their liberty, or to return to this land, lest the contagion
of one little sheep should creep into the whole sheep-fold of Christ.” Then the
pastor of the church answered: “Let him who does otherwise be anathema.”
After further provisions for enforcing purity of life, the Duke added, “But, if
a woman shall have declared publicly that she was not loved as an equal, but
was afflicted and persecuted by her husband, let the judgment of God be given
between them; and let the one who is found guilty pay the penalty.” Further
provisions were then introduced for punishing homicides; but with regard to
murderers of fathers, brothers, or priests, they were to be bound by hand and
belly with iron, and sent out of the kingdom, to wander, like Cain, over the
whole earth. Those, again, who set up taverns, which are the source of all
crimes and impurities, were to be anathema; and he who was caught in the act
of keeping a tavern was to be hung, and his drinks to be poured out upon the
earth, lest any one should be polluted by this execrable draught. Further
provisions then followed against holding markets or doing servile works on
Sunday, and against burial of the dead in unconsecrated places.
After these sins had been denounced as offensive unto God, and as the cause
why St. Adalbert left his native country, all present were called upon to assent to
the changes of conduct proposed. When they had done so the archbishop broke
open the tomb, and disclosed the body of the saint. So delicious, says Cosmas,
was the smell which came out that many seemed as if they had tasted rich food,
and for three days they needed no more; many sick were healed; yet only the
Duke, the archbishop, and the nobles were suffered to see the body. They then
prayed St. Adalbert to allow them to carry him to Prague; and the Duke and
bishop, taking the body from the tomb, wrapped it in silk, and set out with it in
a solemn procession. After the body were carried the spoils taken from the
Poles; and the Polish nobles (among whom was the great-grandfather of
Cosmas) followed the procession as prisoners, their hands and necks being
loaded with irons.
It was not to be expected that Brac̆ islav’s proceedings would pass
unchallenged; and both Pope and Emperor were appealed to, to redress the
wrongs done to the Church and to Poland. Both of them answered the appeal;

but the complaints of the Pope were soon silenced by the building of a
monastery, and by the judicious distribution of money among the cardinals.
Henry III. was not so easily satisfied. He had doubtless adopted the Imperial
policy of playing off the rival kingdoms against each other; and the Bohemian
victories, won so easily, and without his intervention, were most unwelcome.
His avarice, moreover, was roused by the news of the booty which Brac̆ islav
had brought back from Poland. He therefore peremptorily demanded the
surrender of the spoil, under pain of war. Brac̆ islav boldly replied that, “while
the Bohemians were willing to pay to the Emperor that tribute which they had
always paid him, they would resist to the death any attempt to lay on them
unlawful burdens.” Henry retorted that the law had a wax nose, which a king
could always bend with his iron hand.
Such an exchange of courtesies was naturally followed by war; and, while a
Saxon army marched into Bohemia on one side, the Emperor himself speedily
followed by another entrance. But the Bohemians were ready for the invasion;
and, while the imperial army were resting in a wood, they were surprised by
Brac̆ islav’s soldiers and cut to pieces, Henry only saving himself by the
swiftness of his horse. The Duke of Saxony in vain tried to make terms with the
Bohemians, and was speedily forced to retreat to his own country.
This success, indeed, was not quite so complete as it seemed at first; for, in
the following year, Henry once more invaded Bohemia, and gained such
successes that Brac̆ islav was compelled to pay a higher tribute, and to restore
many towns to Poland. Nevertheless, he was able to retain some hold even over
those towns, by exacting a perpetual tribute from them; nor was Bohemia ever
again so completely at the mercy of Poland as it had been in the previous reigns.
The divisions in the Bohemian Ducal family seemed, however, to Brac̆ islav
to be as great a danger as could arise from any foreign enemy; and he persuaded
the nobles to guard against such dangers in the future by making the crown
hereditary in his family, and abandoning the unlimited right of election. Such a
law could not finally prevent family quarrels, or defeat the designs of ambitious
adventurers. But it is worth noting, as indicating the feeling of an able ruler
about the dangers to which his country was exposed.
It will be easily understood that the conduct of Henry III. and the Duke of
Saxony had quickened once more in Bohemia that anti-German feeling, which
the struggles with the Magyars and the Poles had for a time forced into the
background. Brac̆ islav had, no doubt, been statesman enough to restrain such a
feeling within due bounds; but, when his son Spitihnĕv came to the throne, he

gave far fiercer expression to his hatred of the old enemies of Bohemia. No
sooner was he established in his power, than he issued a decree ordering all the
Germans to leave the country; nor was even his mother allowed an exemption
from this sentence. His brother Vratislav set himself against this policy, and
tried to make the province of Moravia a centre of opposition to the king. But
Spitihnĕv invaded Moravia, forced Vratislav to fly to Hungary, and treated his
wife with such cruelty that she died from the effects. In order to make his power
yet more secure, the Duke persuaded his other brothers, Otto and Conrad, to
abandon their claims to the special districts of Moravia, which their father had
granted to them, and to come to the ducal court at Prague.
Spitihnĕv, however, like Svatopluk of Moravia and Boleslav the Cruel, was
one of those violent men who are subject to reactions as inexplicable as their
first outbursts. Under the influence of the Bishop of Prague, he consented to be
reconciled to Vratislav, and to allow him to return to Moravia; and this
concession was a prelude to a complete change of policy. So mild, indeed, did
he become, that he gained the reputation of being a friend to the poor, a just
judge, and an encourager of religion.
It is difficult to say to which part of his reign we are to assign an act, which
seems at first sight a strange contrast with his furious national prejudices. This
was his suppression of the Slavonic ritual in the monastery of Sázava. But the
apparent inconsistency is easily explained. The Emperors and Popes were no
longer the props of each other’s power; for Henry III. had struck out that new
policy, which aimed at the humiliation of the Papacy, and the exaltation of the
Empire at its expense. Under these circumstances, a king of Bohemia who
wished to hurl defiance at the Germans and their ruler, was necessarily forced to
rely on the support of the Pope. Now the very bitterness of the struggle against
the German Empire had crushed out those ideas of tolerance towards national
feeling which had prevailed in the days of John VIII. The Slavonic ritual
represented at once a concession to the Greek heresy, and a substitution of a
national language for the Latin, which symbolised the power of the Papacy.
Spitihnĕv, therefore, was obliged to suppress this incitement to heresy before he
could obtain the help of the Papacy against the Emperor.
But, whatever changes might have marked the closing years of Spitihnĕv’s
reign, he could not hope at once to suppress that fierce spirit of national hatred
which he had called into prominence; especially since it had entwined itself, in
many cases, with personal ambitions and jealousies. When, then, Vratislav
succeeded to his brother’s dukedom, he found himself in an exceptionally
difficult position. The persecution which he had suffered from his brother

naturally inclined him to a reversal of Spitihnĕv’s policy; but he found that the
rest of his family by no means shared his desire for such a change. The most
turbulent and ambitious of his brothers was named Jaromír. He had been early
persuaded to enter deacon’s orders, in the hope of ultimately succeeding to the
bishopric of Prague. Soon, however, he wearied of a life for which he had no
natural inclination; he therefore fled to Poland, and entered the Polish army.
When, then, the Bishop of Prague died, Vratislav naturally felt that any claim
which Jaromír might have founded on former promises, was cancelled by his
desertion of his profession; and this seemed a good opportunity for introducing
the new policy of conciliation of the Germans. Vratislav, therefore, offered the
bishopric to a Saxon chaplain named Lanczo. Though Saxon birth might have
special recommendations to those who remembered St. Adalbert’s training at
Magdeburg, yet, on the other hand, the share which the Saxons had taken in the
invasions of Henry III. had produced a deep feeling of resentment in many
Bohemians. Conrad and Otto resolved to give expression to these discontents,
by persuading Jaromír to renew his tonsure; and they resolved to support his
claim to the bishopric.
Vratislav hoped to solve the difficulty by an appeal to a General Assembly.
The Assembly met, and Vratislav in their presence presented Lanczo with the
episcopal ring and staff. For a few moments dead silence followed this act; then,
after some mutterings amongst themselves, several nobles sprang up, and
announced their intention to support the claims of Jaromír by force of arms. The
opposition was so fierce that Vratislav yielded, and Jaromír was made Bishop of
Prague.
But the ambition of the new bishop was not yet satisfied. It had been found
necessary, in a previous reign, to divide the diocese into two parts, one
Bohemian and one Moravian; and the Bishop of Olomouci (Olmütz) was then
made practically independent of the Bishop of Prague. Jaromír now demanded
that the Bishop of Olmütz should be deposed, and his diocese absorbed in the
diocese of Prague. This proposal was, of course, opposed by Vratislav;
whereupon Jaromír went secretly to Olmütz and assaulted his rival bishop,
injuring him severely. Vratislav now felt that the time had come to appeal to the
Pope against his unruly brother. Alexander II. sent a legate to Bohemia to try the
case; but, though the Duke and the nobles received him with great honour,
Jaromír denied the authority of the Papal emissary, and refused to resign the see
at his bidding.
This, however, was not a time when the Pope could be bearded with
impunity. In 1073 Alexander died, and Hildebrand was chosen Pope, with the

title of Gregory VII. He summoned Jaromír to Rome; and, after a short attempt
at resistance, the turbulent prince submitted to that powerful will. But even
Gregory had allies with whom he could not dispense; and Matilda of Tuscany,
who was connected with the Bohemian ducal family, chose to interest herself on
Jaromír’s behalf, made up a temporary reconciliation between the brothers, and
persuaded the Pope to restore Jaromír to the bishopric of Prague, after he had
performed some kind of penance, and had given a promise to abstain from
interference with the Bishop of Olmütz. Jaromír, therefore, returned to
Bohemia, and continued to be a thorn in the side of his brother, and of all his
order-loving countrymen.
It is obvious that neither the conduct of Jaromír nor of Gregory can have
tended to sweeten Vratislav’s feelings towards the anti-German party; and his
personal resentment and the desire for greater security for his throne, doubtless
mingled with larger considerations, to recommend to him an important change
in Bohemian policy, which was vitally to affect the future of the country.
Ever since the death of Henry II., the Bohemian Dukes had had a new chance
for playing a part in the affairs of the German Empire. The six German princes,
to whom the Saxon Emperors had wished to limit the right of election to the
Empire, had found it impossible, or at least, extremely difficult, to come to a
satisfactory decision on occasions when the champions of rival candidates were
equally divided. So they were forced to add the Duke of Bohemia as a seventh
Elector, to secure a better chance of a satisfactory decision, and in 1024 Duke
Oldr̆ ich had actually taken part in an Imperial Election. At that time, no doubt,
the Emperors were still strong enough to dispense with allies who were not
directly and naturally connected with the Empire; but when the struggle with
the Popes began, the need for fresh support became more evident, and the
friendship of the new Elector of the Empire became more valuable.
When, then, in 1075, Vratislav offered his help to the Emperor in the struggle
which was then becoming desperate, his alliance was gladly welcomed. Henry
IV. had just then been excommunicated by Gregory for his opposition to the
Papal claims over the German bishoprics; and he was threatened with rebellion
by some of his most powerful subjects. Vratislav’s opportunity was therefore
well chosen; and throughout the many changes of fortune in his stormy career,
Henry found his new ally both faithful and helpful. Many victories were gained
by the help of the Bohemian soldiers; and perhaps the most noteworthy battle,
as affecting the future Bohemian history, was that at Mailberg in 1082, when
Vratislav, with the help of the Bavarians, defeated Leopold, Margrave of
Austria, who had just revolted against Henry. The Emperor would gladly have

presented the Mark of Austria to the victorious Duke; but Vratislav wisely
shrank from this extension of his dominions. Other offers of territory by Henry
were either declined by the Duke or found incapable of execution; and at last, in
1086, the Emperor, finding no other reward acceptable to his ally, publicly
recognised Vratislav as King of Bohemia, and released him from tribute to the
Empire.
Thus Bohemia passed for the moment from a position of dependence to one
of equal alliance with the German Emperor. It might seem, indeed, when one
considers the later developments of Bohemian history, as if the country would
have been happier had it held aloof from the quarrels of Emperors and Popes,
and developed itself on narrower and more peaceful lines. But, by the statesmen
of that time, the matter must have been seen in a very different light. The
perpetual interference by Emperors, Popes, and Kings of Poland in the internal
affairs of Bohemia seemed to have become an unavoidable evil; and the only
apparent remedy was to seize the moment when the Emperor was in difficulty,
and to show him that his despised dependant might become a necessary ally.
But the general character of Vratislav’s policy justifies us in attributing to
him higher motives than those above mentioned. He seems to have really
desired to encourage a wider development of thought and culture in Bohemia.
Both Germans and Jews were granted special privileges to induce them to settle
in Prague; and it may well be believed that he hoped to extend this connection
between Bohemia and the European world, by concerning himself with the
politics of the Empire.
Nor did he fail to do honour to native excellence. One man in particular
stands out amongst his favourites, as a proof of Vratislav’s sympathy with
artistic power. This was Boz̆ etĕch, who was distinguished both as painter,
sculptor, and architect. Such a variety of excellence so attracted the Duke that
he appointed Boz̆ etĕch as Abbot of Sázava; and by his help he once more
brought back into use the often-disputed Slavonic ritual. Pope Gregory, indeed,
indignantly demanded its suppression; but Vratislav, strong in the support of the
Emperor and of the general feeling of Bohemia, stood firm on behalf of this
symbol of national life. Unfortunately, rulers who choose their favourites for
merit rather than for birth, naturally rouse the hostility of those courtiers, who
have only the latter claim to distinction; and while Boz̆ etĕch was sternly
rebuked for presumption by the Bishop of Prague, another favourite of
Vratislav’s gave offence to the heir to the throne, and was murdered by the
young prince and his followers.

This act of violence is one proof among many that Vratislav’s policy was too
vigorous for the leaders of Bohemian opinion. His successors could not
maintain Bohemia in the position in which he would have placed her; and even
the royal title fell into disuse, in consequence, partly, of the disputes about the
succession. Indeed, the chief evidence of the progress, which Bohemia had
made under Vratislav, is to be found in the fact that the internal quarrels which
followed his reign were not able to drag the country down to the condition into
which she had previously fallen. Poland was not able to recover her hold over
Bohemia; and Henry IV. was so conscious of his debt to Vratislav that he
refused to interfere in a contest between members of the ducal family, on the
ground that such questions should be left to the free choice of the Bohemians
themselves.
In spite, then, of Vratislav’s partial success, the divisions which followed his
death could not fail to weaken Bohemia; and at last one of the Dukes resolved
upon a terrible method for suppressing internal disorder. This duke bore the
name of Svatopluk; and his career was not wholly unlike that of his namesake
in the old Moravian times. By the help of Mutina and Boz̆ ej, two of the leaders
of the Vrs̆ ovici, he had deposed Duke Bor̆ ivoj, and placed himself upon the
throne of Bohemia. Bor̆ ivoj appealed to Polish support for the recovery of his
kingdom; and, during Svatopluk’s absence, he invaded Bohemia at the head of a
Polish army. Mutina, who had been left as one of Svatopluk’s chief
representatives, offered little resistance to the invaders, and he was, in
consequence, denounced to the Duke as having intrigued with Bor̆ ivoj.
Thereupon Svatopluk resolved to destroy the whole race of the Vrs̆ ovici. He
summoned all the nobles to a banquet in Breslau; and among them came
Mutina, not suspecting what was to follow. At the close of the banquet
Svatopluk suddenly turned upon Mutina, and accused him and his family of
being the authors of all the treasons in Bohemia for many years past. Then he
made a sign to an officer, who rushed upon Mutina and cut off his head as he
was trying to rise from his seat. His sons were then seized and their eyes put
out. Then messengers were despatched all over the country, who hunted out
every member of the family of the Vrs̆ ovici, and killed all whom they could
seize—men, women, and children. Some of them fled, to Poland, and others to
Hungary; and for a long time the family was unknown in Bohemia. But this
savage act of vengeance did not produce the general results at which its author
had aimed. Svatopluk himself was murdered during an invasion of Poland by
one of the exiled Vrs̆ ovici; and the succeeding reign was as much disturbed by
family quarrels as any which had preceded it.

But the real stability of Bohemia, and the substantial unity which under-lay
its divisions, were to be proved very soon, by a most searching test. In 1125 the
line of the Franconian sovereigns of Germany ended; and Lothar, Duke of
Saxony, was chosen Emperor. It will be remembered that the Saxons had now
for some time been recognised as the most dangerous rivals of Bohemia; and, at
the time of Lothar’s accession, an opportunity seemed to offer itself for using
the Imperial power to crush out Bohemian independence. Sobeslav, the next
Duke of Bohemia, had just obtained the throne by the influence of his mother
Svatava, who had persuaded the Bohemian nobles to ignore the claims of her
eldest son, Otto. Otto at once appealed to Lothar, who asserted his right, as
Emperor, to decide the succession to the Dukedom of Bohemia.
Such a claim would have been resented at any time; but Otto had specially
offended Bohemian feeling, by consenting to hold the province of Moravia as a
fief from the Emperor, instead of a dependency of the Duke of Bohemia. All the
national feeling of independence at once burst into flame; Sobeslav answered
Lothar “that he trusted in the mercy of God, and in the merits of the holy
martyrs of Christ, St. Wenceslaus, and St. Adalbert, that our country would not
be delivered into the hands of foreigners.” Then he went round to the
monasteries imploring Divine help; and when he finally set out on his march,
the spear of St. Wenceslaus and the banner of St. Adalbert were carried at the
head of the army. At the same time Sobeslav despatched a message to the
Emperor, reminding him that the Bohemian nobles were the sole electors of
their duke, and that the Emperor had only the right of confirming their choice.
But Otto had filled the leaders of the Saxon army with the belief that the nobles
of Bohemia were on their side; so the Emperor and his friends declared that
Sobeslav’s speech was mere raving.
Following Otto’s guidance, the Saxon army now marched through a thick
wood till they came to the pass of Chlum. Here they found themselves wedged
in between two mountains, and so blocked by the snow that they had to
dismount from their horses. While the invaders were thus cut off from any hope
of retreat, Sobeslav’s army broke in upon them from three different sides.
Surprised and unable to defend themselves, the Saxons were cut to pieces;
while many of the Bohemians were encouraged by visions of St. Wenceslaus
and St. Adalbert. So great was the victory that, in the words of one chronicler,
“there was rejoicing through all the family of St. Wenceslaus.” Lothar admitted
that he had been misled by Otto, recognised the “judgment of God,” and
presented Sobeslav with the ducal standard.

Sobeslav, like all the wiser rulers of Bohemia, while determined to maintain
the independence of his country, was unwilling to provoke any needless quarrel
with Germany. Even with Lothar he soon entered into friendly relations; and,
after the death of the Saxon Emperor, he used his vote as Elector of the Empire
on behalf of Conrad of Hohenstauffen. Once more the connection between
Bohemia and the Empire became one of close friendship; and Sobeslav
appealed to Conrad to confirm his nomination of his son Vladislav as successor
to the throne. Evidently fearing the divisions which might follow his death,
Sobeslav further strengthened Vladislav’s position by securing a special
promise from the nobles and knights that they would accept this prince as their
duke. The correctness of Sobeslav’s fears was soon proved by the events which
followed his death. When in 1140 the duke was known to be dying, the nobles
of Bohemia met at the Vys̆ ehrad, where they consulted long about the
succession to the throne; and, though they finally decided to accept Vladislav as
their duke, he soon found that his tenure of authority was a frail and uncertain
one.
His difficulties, indeed, were much increased by the reforming zeal of one of
the most important of the statesmen on whom he had to rely. Zdík, Bishop of
Olmütz, had just returned from a pilgrimage to Palestine, full of eager
enthusiasm for establishing a new order of things. By this “new order” he
understood a revival of clerical discipline, an increase of monasteries, and a
stricter enforcement of general purity of life. Vladislav sympathised with the
bishop’s zeal; and he had also enthusiasms of his own, which were equally
difficult of realisation. He removed corrupt magistrates, and he insisted that his
subjects should have the right to appeal to him against the decisions of those
subordinate courts which often represented rather the will of the lords than the
intentions of the law.
Such reforms, however welcome to the peasants, the townsfolk, and the
stricter clergy, were bitterly opposed by the nobles, whose power they
weakened, and whose oppressions they redressed. Therefore, in 1142, the
nobles again met, to depose Vratislav from the throne, and to choose a successor
in his place. After some discussion, they fixed upon Conrad, the Margrave of
Moravia, and placed him at the head of the insurgent forces. Vladislav soon
heard of their intrigues; and, while he entrusted the Bishop of Olmütz with the
organisation of the ducal troops, he himself sent messengers to the conspirators,
reminding them of their oaths of allegiance; and he specially appealed to his
cousin Otto, the son of the prince who had headed the Saxon invasion,
reproaching him with the fact that he had just restored him to his father’s lands.

But all these appeals were in vain; the insurgent army advanced to “Vizoca,”
where they were encountered by Vladislav. The fight was a fierce one, and
many of the leading nobles were killed; but at last, by pretending a panic, they
decoyed the ducal army into a dangerous position, and there turned on them and
routed them. Vladislav retreated to Prague; and then, leaving his brother
Theobald to defend the city, he went to the Emperor to ask his assistance. The
Emperor remembered his debt to Sobeslav, and willingly interceded for his son;
and Conrad of Moravia was soon compelled to fly before the forces of his
Imperial namesake. Great part of the next four years was wasted in compelling
the insurgents to return to their allegiance; but at last the Emperor succeeded in
making peace between the contending parties, and Conrad was restored to the
government of Moravia.
Vladislav now became eager to resume his interrupted career of reform; and,
as a first step, he began to rebuild the monasteries which the rebels had
destroyed. Like Vratislav, however, he now felt himself forced by the opposition
which he had encountered at home to rely more than ever on the German
Emperor; and he was thus dragged into expeditions which had little concern for
Bohemia. At first, indeed, the wars in which he engaged were not of a kind to
offend the feelings of his countrymen. The crusade, for instance, in which he
followed Conrad in 1147, was too much in accordance with the ideas of the
time to provoke any open opposition from the nobles; while his invasion of
Poland in 1149 was, doubtless, only too popular in Bohemia. But an expedition
of a far more important character, and far more closely bound up with the
Imperial power, was, a few years later, to occupy the thoughts of Vladislav and
his countrymen.
In the year 1154 the Emperor Conrad died, and the Electors of the Empire
met to choose his successor. The influence of the Duke of Bohemia in these
elections had now been completely recovered; and Vladislav played a
considerable part in securing the success of his candidate, the son of Conrad, the
celebrated Barbarossa.
But Vladislav’s enemies were on the watch to break a connection so
important to his power. Vladislav, for some reason not easy to ascertain, refused
to attend Barbarossa’s first Council at Merseburg. This absence was at once
seized upon by his rival and kinsman Oldr̆ ich to draw the Emperor’s favour
away from the new duke. Fortunately, Vladislav, though absent, was well
represented by his shrewd adviser, Daniel, Bishop of Prague; and by the
bishop’s influence Oldr̆ ich was quieted for a time. Vladislav took note of this

intrigue; and to prevent its recurrence he drew closer his ties with the Emperor,
and consented to support the Emperor in a new invasion of Poland.
This connection gave Barbarossa the opportunity to interest Vladislav in his
important projects for recovering and making firmer his position as Holy
Roman Emperor. The rising of Arnold of Brescia had drawn the Pope and the
Emperor for a time into an alliance; and the appeal of Lodi against the tyrannies
of the greater Lombard towns had given the Emperor a new excuse for
establishing his rule in Italy. So he became anxious to secure sufficient support
from the princes of the Empire; and he was ready to grant favours to those most
likely to be of service to him. In 1156 he raised the Margravate of Austria into
an independent dukedom; and in the following year he proposed to restore to
Vladislav that royal title which had gradually fallen into disuse in Bohemia, on
condition that the new King should bring his forces to assist him in the siege of
Milan.
This was the third occasion on which a royal crown had been offered to the
Dukes of Bohemia; and it was in some ways the most significant of the three.
The first offer had been made to St. Wenceslaus, and had been based entirely on
the ground of his personal qualities. The saint had refused it as inconsistent with
his character. The offer made to Vratislav had been of a wholly different kind
from the first proposal; but the way in which the title speedily fell into disuse
has led some to doubt if Henry IV. had intended the crown to be hereditary. In
the case of Vladislav, however, there was no doubt as to the intentions of
Barbarossa. Indeed, he clearly showed that he considered the grant of this
dignity as the revival of the old Moravian kingship; and, in order to emphasise
the importance and independence of the new dignity, he accompanied it by the
grant of territory which the Bohemians had previously claimed, but over which
their rights had hitherto been disputed. Although, therefore, the continual
contests for the throne of Bohemia, which followed the death of Vladislav,
made it impossible for the rival pretenders to make good their claim to the royal
title, there was, nevertheless, no doubt that, from this time forth, any lawfully
elected ruler of Bohemia had the right to call himself king. Yet, splendid as this
proposal was, Vladislav felt it necessary to consult his chief adviser, Bishop
Daniel of Prague, before he would give the promise which could alone secure
him the new dignity. Daniel had no doubts in his own mind; indeed, he seems
throughout to have been more zealous for the Imperial alliance than Vladislav
himself, and even to have taken a warm interest in the details of the Italian
campaign. He, therefore, readily used his influence in favour of the proposal;
and the bargain between the Emperor and the King was accordingly struck.

Few wise and well-meaning rulers have ever done greater mischief to their
country than Vladislav accomplished by that hastily made bargain; but nothing
could be honester than his way of carrying out the compact; and he clearly
showed that he believed himself to be acting for the good of his country. He
hastened back to Bohemia, and called a General Council of the nobles, to whom
he announced the whole transaction. Immediately fierce protests broke forth.
The Duke, without any consultation with his lawful advisers, had raised himself
to a new dignity, and had dragged the country into a foreign war. The adviser of
such unlawful acts deserved to be crucified. This threat was obviously aimed at
Bishop Daniel, but Vladislav hastened to take the whole responsibility upon
himself. “I have made this promise,” he said, “to the Emperor, by no man’s
advice, but of my own free will. I give this answer to the honours which he has
granted to me. Whosoever intends to help me in this business, him I will
provide with fitting honour and with the money necessary for this work; but he
who cares not for it let him sit at home content with the games and the ease of
women, and secure of the peace which I will guarantee to him.”
It should be noted that, under the scornful rhetoric of this speech, there is
concealed the admission of the important constitutional principle, that the king
had no right to demand the service of his subjects in a foreign war. In saner
moods and at later periods, Bohemians were eager to assert this great liberty.
But, for the moment, the king’s appeal acted like magic in silencing opposition
and rousing enthusiasm for the war. Songs were composed and speeches
delivered in honour of the siege of Milan; and, while the young nobility
disregarded the warnings of their elders and hastened to take up arms in the
Imperial cause, the peasants gladly left their wearisome occupations and
oppressed condition to flock to the banner of their beloved king. The splendid
services accomplished by Vladislav in that ill-fated war strengthened his
influence in the Councils of the Empire; and it is at least pleasant to mention
that, at the siege of Brescia, the King of Bohemia used his influence with
Barbarossa to soften the terms offered to the unfortunate Brescians. His
personal share in the war was indeed cut short, partly by ill-health, partly by the
necessity of returning to Bohemia, which was disturbed by the insurrection of a
new pretender. But his son Frederick and his brother Theobald brought new
reinforcements to the camp of Barbarossa; and a large part of all the glory that
could be won in such a cause was due to the Bohemian soldiers.
Nor was Vladislav less successful in rousing the enthusiasm of his subjects in
favour of another war, which had as little connection as the Italian expedition
had had with the welfare of Bohemia. Queen Geysa, of Hungary, appealed to

Vladislav in 1164 to help her young son in his struggle against a pretender to
the Hungarian throne. Again Vladislav promised his help, and again the
constitutional protest against his promise produced an explanation which served
to show the deference of the king to the laws, while its complete success proved
his personal popularity in the country. This campaign gave additional proof of
the king’s military reputation; for the Emperor of Constantinople, who had
invaded Hungary on behalf of the rebels, was eager to make a special peace
with his Bohemian opponent; and when he failed to effect this purpose, he
speedily returned to his own country and accepted the proposals of Vladislav
about the terms of his peace with Queen Geysa.
The reign of Vladislav stands out strangely in the middle of the disorderly
twelfth century. We see there a king suppressing disorder without suppressing
freedom; armed insurrection by selfish intriguers, changing as if by magic into
constitutional opposition on behalf of most important liberties; and all these
gains apparently connected with an increase in military glory and national
prestige, such as might well dazzle even men of some sagacity and foresight.
But the glory, and, what was of far more importance, the peace of Bohemia,
were of short duration. The death of Bishop Daniel broke the chief link between
Vladislav and Barbarossa. The bishop had remained with the Emperor during
his Italian campaign; his counsels had always been welcome, and his influence
had, no doubt, been a strong force in securing Bohemia to the Imperial cause.
Nor did his death produce a merely negative effect on the relations between
Bohemia and the Empire. It brought into play another influence which was
exerted on the opposite side.
Vladislav’s queen, Judith, favoured the party of Pope Alexander III.; and by
her advice a Saxon bishop, who had taken the Papal side, was elected as
Daniel’s successor. As the new bishop was totally ignorant of the Bohemian
language, his election weakened Vladislav’s popularity with his people as much
as his favour with the Emperor. Three years later, the enemies of the king once
more found their opportunity to make use of these discontents against him.
Vladislav, without any consultation with the nobles, and without any notice to
the Emperor, resigned his power to his son Frederick; and the intriguers, whom
he had with such difficulty suppressed, were now easily able to rouse an
insurrection against his successor. Then followed twenty-five years of miserable
dynastic squabbles, during which Conrad of Moravia was able to play the part
of king-maker, and, by the help of the puppets whom he placed on the throne of
Bohemia, to secure a temporary independence for the province which he
governed.

At last the contest was brought to an end by the accession of King Pr̆ emysl to
the throne in 1198; and he settled the question of Moravian government by
conceding the rule of that province to his brother Vladislav. Pr̆ emysl came at the
right moment to recover for Bohemia the power and influence of which the civil
wars of a quarter of a century had deprived her. Once more, as in the time of
Henry IV., Germany’s difficulty was Bohemia’s opportunity. The death of
Henry VI., the son of Barbarossa, had thrown the Empire into all the disorder
which arises from a disputed succession; and Pr̆ emysl found his interest in
playing off one rival emperor against another, just as the Emperors had
previously played with the rival candidates to the Bohemian throne. Philip and
Otto soon found that their respective causes were practically at the mercy of the
Bohemian king; and, if Dubravsky has any authority for saying that Pr̆ emysl’s
surname of Ottakar was a tribute to his devotion to Otto, never, certainly, did a
nickname convey keener irony.
Nor did the election of Frederick II. diminish the power of Pr̆ emysl. His
influence had considerably contributed to that election; and Frederick’s lifelong
war against popes and priests compelled him to rely on any friend who would
stand by him against those dangerous antagonists. In his eagerness to secure
Pr̆ emysl’s help, the Emperor confirmed to the Bohemian crown those German
territories in Silesia and the Lausitz, which had so long been the subject of
dispute. He also granted to Pr̆ emysl the power of appointing bishops in
Bohemia without any outside interference. Pr̆ emysl’s sympathies with Frederick
were further quickened by the struggles with the clergy of Bohemia in which he
found himself involved. The same difficulties which our Henry II. had so
recently experienced, in his attempts to bring the clergy under the authority of
lay tribunals, were harassing Pr̆ emysl during a large part of his reign; and his
attitude in these matters provoked against him Papal censures as stern as those
which were aimed at his Imperial ally. The contest between king and priest in
Bohemia ended in a compromise; but the substantial victory probably remained
with the king.
Pr̆ emysl’s vigour tended, no doubt, to reconcile the discontented nobles to his
rule; but, in the reign of his son Wenceslaus, the opposition again began to make
head. Young Pr̆ emysl Ottakar, the son of Wenceslaus, had been appointed
Margrave of Moravia; and the power connected with this office induced the
nobles to make the young prince the centre of their intrigues. The terrible events
of 1241 suppressed faction for a time in Bohemia; for in that year the invasion
of Genghis Khan shook all the States of Europe to their centre, and gradually
forced into the background any minor cause of division. The details of this

invasion are more properly connected with the events to be dealt with in the
following chapter. Here it is enough to say that the panic produced by this
invasion enabled Wenceslaus to rally round him the whole forces of the
kingdom, and to establish the reputation of Bohemia as the champion of
European civilisation.
But there was one ruler, in whom neither fear of danger nor gratitude for
deliverance could quench his hostility to the Slavonic kingdom. This was
Frederick of Babenberg, Duke of Austria, who was otherwise known as
Frederick the Quarrelsome. Ever since the time when Vratislav had defeated the
Margrave Leopold in his rising against Henry IV., the rulers of Austria had been
doubtful friends to Bohemia; and, though accident might sometimes have
forced them into an alliance, their ordinary attitude was that of suspicion, if not
of open hostility. Frederick the Quarrelsome was one of the bitterest in his
opposition. He invaded Moravia in the very year after the repulse of the
Mongols; and he continued the struggle till his death.
That death, however, instead of bringing peace to Wenceslaus, only raised
against him a far more formidable opponent. The Emperor Frederick had
opposed the efforts of his turbulent namesake; but, when the Duke died without
an heir, it seemed an excellent opportunity for seizing Austria as a fief of the
Empire. Wenceslaus, on the other hand, desired to secure the dukedom for his
son Vladislav; and, in spite of Imperial opposition, he seems to have won for his
son the sympathies, of a part, at least, of the Austrian nobles.
Thus then ended abruptly that alliance between Bohemia and the Empire
which had been so useful to both parties. Neither Wenceslaus nor Frederick lost
time in their declarations of hostility to each other. In 1247 Wenceslaus openly
joined in the schemes of Innocent IV., for deposing the Emperor, and setting up
William of Holland in his place; and Frederick revenged himself by stirring up
the discontented Bohemian nobles against their king. The struggle was a sharp
one; the rebels succeeded for a time in deposing Wenceslaus and setting up
young Ottakar in his stead; but the threats of Innocent IV. brought them back to
their allegiance; and a compromise by which young Ottakar was confirmed in
his former government of Moravia removed him from the ranks of his father’s
enemies. The death of Frederick II. once more plunged the Empire into disorder.
Wenceslaus saw his opportunity in this confusion; and, as Vladislav was now
dead, the King persuaded young Ottakar to seize the dukedom of Austria for
himself. The Austrians accepted their new duke without any apparent
reluctance; and thus, when Wenceslaus died in 1253, Ottakar II. became king of

a Bohemia, which included not only Silesia and the Lausitz, but also the
dukedom of Austria.

IV.
THE GROWTH OF BOHEMIAN LIFE FROM ACCESSION OF
PR̆ EMYSL OTTAKAR I. TO DEATH OF PR̆ EMYSL OTTAKAR
II.
(1198-1278.)

In the present century the development of national constitutions has had a
special interest for historians. This interest has arisen partly from the spectacle
of the unusual number of new experiments in government which have been
made in our own time; partly from the growing sense that the history of wars
and Courts has become less important, and that the growth of law and of
popular life ought to take the place of those exploded subjects of interest. But
the exact legal position of the different component parts of a nation is not
generally easy to ascertain at an early period of its history; nor, when it is
ascertained, has the knowledge always brought us nearer to the discovery of the
really living and progressive force in the nation at that period.
Thus, in the case of Bohemia, though we get continual hints of national
feeling and popular aspiration, these do not always centre in legally constituted
bodies, nor do they keep pace with any orderly line of constitutional
development. Assemblies seem constantly to have met, but these were, in the
main, assemblies of nobles; and the general national feeling more often took the
form of an enthusiasm for the Bohemian language, or the reverence for a native
saint, than of a demand for the extension of the rights of any class, or for a
limitation of the royal power.
Perhaps it was a natural consequence of this popular indifference to political
progress, as compared with the zeal for the preservation of the national
language, and the religious ritual, that, by the close of the twelfth century, we
find few traces remaining of those free institutions which seemed to connect
themselves with the story of Libus̆ a. Even those securities for popular freedom,
which undoubtedly prevailed in historical times, had been, in the course of the
eleventh and twelfth centuries, corrupted into new sources of tyranny. Of these
the most important had been the Z̆ upa, or local assembly. This had been formed
partly for purposes of self-defence, partly for ecclesiastical organisation; and,

though it had centred at one time in a castle, at another in a church, yet it had
originally been governed by a judge, elected by the district.
But from the time of Boleslav the Cruel, the Dukes began to make it their
practice to grant these local judgeships to nobles who had done them special
service; and those nobles were generally allowed either to sell their offices or to
bequeath them to their heirs. The temptation to use this position as an
instrument of oppression was yet further increased by the profit which the
judges were allowed to make out of the fines that they had inflicted. The money
thus accumulated was often used for the purchase of neighbouring lands; and
thus lands formerly held by freemen, or on the communal system, passed into
the power of the official nobles. In the meantime those nobles, who did not
become Z̆ upani, were able to profit by the growing unpopularity of the local
tribunals to strengthen the power of their own feudal courts over their
dependants; while the continual wars, and the practice of selling captives into
slavery, encouraged the growth of an even more helpless and degraded class.
The coolness with which many of the grants of land transfer workmen of
various kinds as mere appendages of fields and fishponds, is in itself a proof of
the degraded position to which the peasant class in Bohemia had been reduced;
and the fact that military service seemed one of the few means of escaping from
serfdom led the peasants to favour those wars which in the end increased their
misery.
When the peculiarly disturbed state of Bohemia, which followed King
Vladislav’s retirement from power, had been for a time brought to an end, or at
least modified by the accession of Pr̆ emysl Ottakar to the throne of the
kingdom, it became necessary to provide some remedy for the miserable state of
things which was destroying the country; and above all to find a new
opportunity for the development of peaceful trade, and some power which could
counteract the lawless intrigues of the nobles. The calling into life of
communities which should be out of reach of the power both of feudalism and
officialism was the natural method of meeting these difficulties; and, in the ruin
of the rest of the country, there seemed to be two places where there still
lingered traditions that could be made available for this purpose.
Curiously enough, amid the decay of national freedom, the privileges granted
to foreigners still remained undiminished; and, stranger still, it was from these
communities that a new material for national life was to be drawn. In the district
of Poric̆ , which Vratislav had raised into a suburb of Prague, a settlement of
German workmen had been planted by that king; and to encourage them in the
continuance of their occupations, he had granted them rights of self-

government, which had survived the freedom of the Z̆ upani, and the other
elements of independence which had been enjoyed by the poorer classes of
Bohemia. They had been allowed to choose their own judge without
interference from any one; and, except in the cases of the most extreme crimes,
which were dealt with by the Duke himself, they were allowed to carry on their
own affairs according to their own laws. They were never to be compelled to go
on military service, except when the actual defence of the country required it. A
Bohemian wishing to bring an action against a German was obliged to prove his
case through two German witnesses and one Bohemian before a German judge.
They were to be safe from that compulsory intrusion into their houses by nobles
who came from a distance, which was one of the great burdens of the Bohemian
citizens; and in many other matters they were allowed to follow the customs of
their own country. The respect felt for these privileges is sufficiently shown by
the fact that, even in the time of turbulence and disorder between the abdication
of Vladislav, and the accession of Pr̆ emysl, we find a formal confirmation by
Duke Sobeslav of Vratislav’s grant to the settlers in Poric̆ .
Here then Pr̆ emysl could find a tradition which might justify him in
developing, without violent change, liberties of the greatest importance to his
country; and accordingly in 1213 he grants to the citizens of Freudenthal the
settlement of their town “in accordance with that Teutonic law which has
hitherto been unwonted and unused in the lands of Bohemia and Moravia; but
which, having been granted to you first by our illustrious brother Vladislav,
Margrave of Moravia, we confirm with our royal authority.” And then, as an
important hint of coming developments, and an indication of the thoroughly
national purpose of this movement, he grants them, during the life of himself
and his brother, the tithes on the metals found within four miles from the city, to
be used for the improvement of the aforesaid city.
But, if the new development of town life took root at this time in the western
parts of Bohemia, it seems to have had a still earlier growth in the more eastern
province of Moravia. That province had always had peculiar traditions of its
own. It was a fragment of the old kingdom of Moravia, and had been
incorporated in the Bohemian dukedom, at the time of the Hungarian invasion.
It always retained a sense of its important position; and Barbarossa himself had
increased that feeling when, in granting the royal crown to Vladislav, he spoke
of the new dignity as a revival of the old Moravian kingdom. Moreover, by
some means or other, a German element seems to have penetrated into this
province; and it is now generally believed that in Moravia, as in Bohemia, the
first traditions of municipal self-government were drawn from German sources.

Nevertheless, when in 1229 King Pr̆ emysl recognised the municipal liberties of
Brünn (Brno), he evidently refers to them as connected with local rights which
had been traditional for a considerable time in that town; and in the book of
decisions of the Moravian municipal tribunals, the Law of Brno is sometimes
pitted against that Law of Magdeburg which was generally accepted as the
model of town rights. Brünn, too, became in a peculiar manner the centre of the
towns of Moravia, and its laws became a new source of life to a great portion of
the Bohemian kingdom; and its Book of Rights, with its splendid binding and
beautiful illuminations, may still be seen in the town council house at Brünn.
So, when in 1229 Pr̆ emysl Ottakar confirmed the ancient laws of the province
of Brünn, he gave a new, and probably more attractive, impulse to the
movement for civic self-government.

RADNICE BRNE: OLD DOOR OF TOWN COUNCIL HOUSE OF
BRÜNN.

These rights, however, were of gradual growth, and at the time of Pr̆ emysl’s
decree they were not developed to that point which the subsequent records of
their interpretation would lead one to expect. Thus, although we find securities
against arbitrary arrest, we do not find that definite arrangement for the
production of legal witnesses which was afterwards established; and, though the
judge is no longer allowed to decide questions alone, the check upon him seems
to be rather that of officials and nobles than of his fellow-citizens. But,
whatever defects and limitations we may find in these early provisions for

municipal liberty, the movement in its favour was soon to be hastened by one of
the most tremendous shocks which had convulsed Europe since the fall of the
Roman Empire. This was nothing less than the invasion of Genghis Khan and
his Tartar hordes, which has already been slightly alluded to in the previous
chapter.
It appears that the Cumani, a still barbarous tribe, had come into collision
with the Tartars in Asia; and, either flying from Tartar vengeance, or following a
new career of conquest, the Cumani entered Hungary. There they joined with
some of their kinsmen who had formerly settled there, and began to harass the
Hungarians. The Tartars quickly followed on their heels; and, having overrun
Russia, they made their way into Hungary, defeated King Bela, and laid waste
his territory, killing men, women, and children. From thence they swept over
Poland, and advanced into Moravia, while others attacked Bulgaria and Greece.
The terror-struck descriptions of the writers of the period seem to combine the
memories of Gothic and Hunnish invasions with the imagery of the Apocalypse.
Like so many conquerors, Genghis Khan seems to have had a conception of a
special mission to destroy imposed on him by some invisible Power; and he and
his followers were looked on, for a time, as irresistible. He had twelve thousand
men wearing breastplates of skin, and always on horseback, and twenty or thirty
horses without any one to guide them following every rider; for the Mongol
Tartars could do nothing on foot because of their short legs and long bodies.
They were killing all except those children whom Genghis Khan was branding
on the face with his mark. Their women were said to fight on horseback; and
those who slaughtered the most were the most admired.
While Europe was panic-struck, and every man was calling on his neighbour
for help, Pope Gregory IX. and the Emperor Frederick II. were fighting with
each other for the possession of Sicily; and, while Frederick pleaded that he
could not put himself at the head of the Imperial forces till Gregory would let
him alone, the friends and admirers of Gregory were accusing Frederick of
having himself invited in the Tartars; and some even declared that they had seen
his messengers in the Tartar army. Alone almost among the princes of Europe,
Wenceslaus of Bohemia, who had now succeeded to the throne, seems to have
preserved some nerve and sense. He called upon the Duke of Austria, the
Patriarch of Aquileia, the Duke of Carinthia, and the Margrave of Baden to help
him to gather together his forces near Olmütz (Olomouci); and he made so
determined a stand that the invasion was rolled back upon Hungary.
Even after this defeat of the Tartars the terror of them hung for years over
Europe; but, though Bohemia itself was not yet free from danger, Wenceslaus,

as King of Bohemia, and his son Pr̆ emysl Ottakar, as Margrave of Moravia, now
set themselves to redress the injuries done by the Tartar invasion. In 1243 they
began to enlarge and restore the towns which had been destroyed by the Tartars;
and in order to induce the frightened citizens to devote themselves to this work,
they found it necessary to encourage them by the grant of further liberties.
The conception of municipal government evidently makes great strides at this
time. Accused persons are now more carefully guarded from arbitrary
sentences; and we also find the jury rising to an equality with the judge in the
decision of certain matters. More clearly, too, do we detect the determination to
put a check on the tyranny of the nobles by the development of civic liberties.
“We will,” says Wenceslaus, in his extension of the privileges of Brünn, “and
we irrefragably decree that no baron or noble of the land shall have power in the
city of Brünn, or shall do any violence in it, or shall detain any one, without the
license and proclamation of the judge of the city; and we will that, whoever of
the citizens has servants or possessions outside the city, shall not be summoned
by the provincial judge, or the officials of the province, but shall be judged by
the judge of the city.”

JÍHLAVA (IGLAU), THE GREAT MINING CENTRE IN MORAVIA.

The power of demising property without interference from others, freedom of
marriage or non-marriage to widows and maidens, various forms of protection
against violence, facilities for holding markets, and the removal of customs
duties—such are the chief subjects dealt with in these civic constitutions. The
discovery and working of minerals, which largely date from this time, led to
new opportunities of self-government. In the town of Iglau (Jíhlava), where
miners had been prominent in the defence of their country against the Tartars,
the powers granted to them and the neighbouring citizens were particularly
large. “We wish and command,” say Wenceslaus and Pr̆ emysl Ottakar his son,
“that, whatever the jury of our city and the jury of the miners have ordained, for
the commercial good, should be inviolably observed by all.” Even tax-collectors
of the king are to consult the miners in certain matters; while special securities
are given against possible defalcations by debtors of noble birth.
Great as was the advance which is implied in these decrees, the use made of
them by the citizens shows that they understood how to extend their liberties
still further. The benefit derived from the powers granted to civic judges might
have been neutralised by the way in which the judgeships were still conferred
by the kings on their personal favourites; but the jurymen of Brünn claimed for
themselves the power of checking, and even overruling the judge, which must
have been a far better guarantee for the self-government of the city than any that
was directly contained in the royal decree.
“The judge,” say these administrators, “must reverence the jury as legislators,
never dictate sentences on his own authority, never arrest any one without their
knowledge, never appropriate to himself the fines of the city, never bring back
those that are driven from the city, without the consent of the jurors; always
listen to them, and arrange all the business of his office according to their
advice.”
How much the sense of equality before the law grew under this
administration may be illustrated by the following instance. A servant has
brought an action against a fellow-servant for wounding him; while at the same
time a master brings an action against the same defendant for debt. The question
arises which of these shall be heard first. The jury decide that “since the body of
a man is more precious than money,” the defendant should answer for his
violence to the man whom he has wounded, before he answers to the master for
his debt. More bold still was the assertion of the rights of the citizens to hold the
nobles responsible to the city tribunals for lands held within the city. And while
they held their own against the nobles outside, the popular magistrates increased
their authority within the city. The power of regulating trade, which in England

was seized by the Guilds, was, in the Moravian towns, at once taken into the
hands of the civic authorities; and thus those conflicts, which Mrs. Green has
described as prevailing in so many English towns, between the magistrates and
the leaders of the trades, never assume such prominence in the history of Brünn
and Olmütz.
Nor was it only in their immediate security for liberty and good government
that these civic rights were of advantage to Bohemia and Moravia. Questions
were forced upon the practical consideration of the jurors, the very discussion of
which formed an important element in political education. Thus the treatment
by the jurors of the questions of the value of torture, and ordeal by battle, as
methods of discovering truth, show how experience was already preparing the
way for the overthrow of abuses, which were yet too strongly supported by
popular prejudice to be removed at once. The steady growth of these liberties,
which had received so powerful an impulse from the needs produced by the
Tartar invasion, was still further promoted by Pr̆ emysl Ottakar II., and became
in his hands part of a complete scheme for humbling the power of the nobility.
Wenceslaus, in spite of some fine qualities, had been a self-indulgent and
pleasure-seeking man; and he had, like some of his predecessors, mortgaged
many of the royal lands and castles to the nobles. This had naturally increased
their power, and had enabled them to organise those insurrections against the
king in which they had at first succeeded in involving his son. But even while
he was still Margrave of Moravia, young Pr̆ emysl Ottakar had broken loose
from these influences; and by various economies and convenient pecuniary
transactions he had succeeded in raising money enough to purchase back the
lands from the nobles, compelling them, sometimes against their will, to
surrender their mortgages. He also forced them to break down those castles
which had been great causes of disorder and weakness in the country. Nor did
he fail to strengthen his cause by alliance with the clergy.
Ever since the quarrel between Frederick II. and Wenceslaus, that King had
been a devoted champion of the Pope; and in the growing weakness of the
Empire, the Pope became more and more the one great Power to which a rising
and ambitious king could appeal. Ottakar II. became distinguished as a friend of
the Church, not only by his strong support of the Papal power, but by his
endowment and development of the monasteries. In this, indeed, he was
carrying on that revival of Bohemian life which Wenceslaus had begun after the
repulse of the Tartars. But it was evident that these ecclesiastical exemptions
must sometimes come into collision with those civic liberties of which we have
spoken.

This contradiction was evidently felt by Ottakar; and it showed itself in three
different ways. The freedom of trade, which, under certain limitations, was so
welcome to the towns, was by no means in accordance with the claims of the
abbots. They wished that certain occupations should be carried on under their
control; and not that there should be any exchange of the articles connected with
those occupations. Thus we find in some of the grants to the monasteries that,
while the monks and their dependants are relieved from certain forms of
taxation, the exemption is specially limited to those who are not engaged in
trade. Secondly, there was an obvious risk of a conflict of authority between the
monastic tribunals and those of the city. Thirdly, the records of Brünn, and of its
imitators, show that the growing ideas of equality before the law did not always
seem to the citizens quite consistent with the privileges claimed by the clergy.
Nor must it be supposed that charters to monasteries and charters to towns
represented, in the same degree, the ordinary idea of human liberty. The
dependants of the abbot were as much at his mercy as those of any feudal lord;
and though it might be an advantage for them to escape from the oppressions of
the Z̆ upani, it was not always certain that the abbot would be a gentler master.
That Ottakar felt the difficulty of this conflict, and desired to compromise
between the interests of these rivals for his favour, is strikingly illustrated by the
two cases of Hradiste and Litomys̆ l. In the former case, Ottakar was particularly
anxious to secure the good will of the citizens, because he looked upon their
town as a possible bulwark against Hungarian invasion; but the neighbouring
convent of Vilegrad feared that the grant of liberties to Hradiste would interfere
with the privileges of their convent. The compromise to which Ottakar was
forced seems a considerable surrender to ecclesiastical pretensions. The
townsmen were to settle in one particular island, for which they were to pay rent
to the monastery. The monastery was to retain all its former rights over waters,
fisheries, mills, meadows, woods, and corn-fields; and, though the town was to
hold a market two days a week, the profit of that market was to go on one day
to the king, and on another to the monastery; and, above all, the judge of the
town was to be appointed by the monastery. But in this decree there is a
provision which seems to suggest how even such a compromise might work for
freedom. The common rights in pasture held previously by the townsmen are to
be shared with the dependants of the monastery; but the dependants of the
monastery in their turn are to share their common rights with the citizens of the
town. Thus there would naturally grow up a combination among the dependants
of the monasteries, like those unions which, in England, gave such trouble to
the abbots of St. Albans and Dunstable.

In the case of Litomys̆ l the grants to the monastery and those given to the
town are so entangled that it is sometimes difficult to distinguish between the
benefits received by the respective recipients of the royal favour; and, in this
case, Ottakar seems to have cut the knot by raising Litomys̆ l to the ordinary
position of a royal town, and thereby emancipating it from the control of the
monastery. Ottakar indeed had one sure protection against any possible offence
which the Church might fear from the growth of civic liberty. Bruno, Bishop of
Olmütz, was his right-hand man in this as in other parts of his work. Himself a
German by birth, he warmly encouraged the introduction of German town rights
into the cities of Moravia; while, on the other hand, he always succeeded, until
the final catastrophe of Ottakar’s life, in strengthening the good understanding
between the Pope and the King of Bohemia.
Thus there were now growing up in Bohemia the elements of internal liberty,
under the patronage of a king strong and wise enough to hold his own against
the nobles. Had Ottakar been content to remain King of Bohemia alone, the
effect of his reign on his country might have been permanently beneficial. But it
is now necessary to speak of that career of conquest and aggression which
raised up against him so many enemies, and which at last put into the hands of
his most dangerous rival the weapon by which king and country were alike
overthrown.
However evil were the final results of his aggressions, it must be owned that
there was a certain plausibility in the justification offered by Ottakar for each of
his conquests. To begin with the first and most important of them, the conquest
of Austria. The Babenbergers had been undoubtedly troublesome neighbours to
the Dukes of Bohemia; and Frederick the Quarrelsome, the last of the line, had
been also so oppressive to his subjects that they had appealed to the Emperor to
choose them a new duke. On this occasion the King of Bohemia had been one
of those to whom the enforcement of the ban of the Empire had been entrusted.
When, then, on the death of Frederick the Quarrelsome, the land seemed likely
to fall into the hands of the Emperor, or to be torn in pieces by rival claimants,
Wenceslaus and Ottakar may have naturally considered it a matter of self-
defence to establish their rule, and with it some kind of order, in the lands of so
near a neighbour; and they were further encouraged in their attempt by the
approval of Pope Innocent IV.
But the latter phases of the conquest are perhaps less excusable, and even
somewhat discreditable to Wenceslaus and his son. The Austrian nobles, on the
death of the Emperor Frederick had resolved to choose the Margrave of
Meissen as their duke, and to send representatives to invite him to accept the

ducal crown. On their way through Bohemia, Wenceslaus invited them to a
banquet, and tried to cajole them into choosing his son as their duke. The
messengers, alarmed and taken by surprise, declared that they had no authority
to accept this proposal. Wenceslaus, thereupon, uttered such threats, that the
Austrians considered it dangerous to continue their journey; and they returned
to their country to reconsider the question.
Apart from the claim given to the Margrave of Meissen by the choice of the
nobles, there were two rival claimants to the dukedom of Austria; Margaret the
widow of the Emperor Henry VI., and daughter of Leopold the Glorious, the
most popular of all the Babenberg House; and Gertrude a niece of Frederick the
Quarrelsome, and wife of the Margrave of Baden. Margaret was, of course,
tolerably advanced in life, and had taken a vow of virginity after the death of
her husband; but Wenceslaus and Bruno of Olmütz persuaded young Ottakar to
make good his claim to the duchy by wooing the widow. In an evil hour for
herself, Margaret consented to Ottakar’s proposal; the approval of the Pope, and
possibly some slight display of military force, completed Ottakar’s claim; and
he was accepted by some at least of the Austrian nobles as their Duke.
In Austria, as in Bohemia, Ottakar looked chiefly for his support to the great
cities. Vienna flourished under his rule; and he granted special privileges to the
neighbouring town of Neustadt. But the hostility of the nobles still continued;
and they were resolved that, at all events, the German province of Styria should
not fall into Bohemian hands. The difficulty of Ottakar’s position on this
question lay in the fact that the most important rival claimant was Bela, King of
Hungary, who, like Ottakar, was a special favourite of the Pope; and in the
beginning of the struggle the King of Hungary succeeded in establishing his
authority in Styria. But, by the admission even of Ottakar’s enemies, the
tyranny of the Hungarians in Styria was so great that, when Ottakar again made
an attempt on the province, he was welcomed as a deliverer; and for the time he
made good his footing.
It was now necessary to get a formal sanction for these conquests; and
Ottakar chose Richard of Cornwall, from the rival claimants to the German
Empire, as the puppet most useful for this purpose. Richard was willing enough
to secure so influential a supporter; but the King of Hungary was not so easily
satisfied. In 1260, he once more poured his forces into Styria and Austria; and
he was now followed, not only by the Hungarian troops, but by the savage
Cumanians, and even, according to one account, by the Tartars. The struggle
was a fierce one; but it ended in the complete victory of the Bohemians.

Ottakar, however, thought it necessary to secure himself against future
invasions, by a singularly questionable step. The unfortunate Margaret, to
whom, it was evident, he must very soon have become unfaithful, was to be
repudiated on the ground of her former vow of virginity, in order that Ottakar
might marry Kunigunda, the daughter of Bela, King of Hungary. Urban IV., like
many of his predecessors, was extremely desirous to procure a good
understanding between Hungary and Bohemia, as in the union of these
kingdoms he saw the best hope of security against a future Tartar invasion; so
Kunigunda was crowned Queen of Bohemia by the Archbishop of Mainz.
But Ottakar’s conquests were not yet at an end. Ulrich, the Duke of Carinthia
and Carniola, had a very troublesome brother called Philip, who was generally
at feud with some prince or other. Amongst his other enemies was the Patriarch
of Aquileia, to whose office he desired to succeed. Ulrich, knowing Ottakar’s
influence with the Pope and the ecclesiastics generally, tried to secure that
influence in favour of the election of Philip to the patriarchate. Ottakar agreed,
on condition that Ulrich would make him his heir in Carinthia and Carniola.
Ulrich consented to this proposal; and, by Ottakar’s influence, the Chapter of
Aquileia elected Philip Patriarch. Philip was apparently unaware of the bargain;
and he was therefore extremely indignant, when, on Ulrich’s death, the King of
Bohemia entered Carinthia and Carniola as the lawful heir of Ulrich. This
bitterness was further increased when the Pope refused to confirm the election
of the Chapter, and Philip found himself without either patriarchate or
dukedom.
Ottakar was now the lord of all the territories which form the western part of
the present Austrian Empire, with the exception of the Tyrol. But his hold on
these conquered territories was by no means so certain as it at first appeared.
Though none of his rivals were able, at the moment, to make good their claims
against him, yet any one of them might reckon on a formidable amount of
discontent in all the conquered provinces. For the same policy which he had
pursued in Bohemia of breaking down the power of the nobles, by destroying
their castles, was carried on in his new dominions; and, while in all of them it
caused considerable opposition, in Styria the discontent soon ripened into
rebellion.
The attitude of the Styrian nobles had, from the first, been one of more
determined hostility than Ottakar had encountered in his other dominions; and it
soon provoked him into measures which increased the evil. One can scarcely
accept as undoubted history all the charges of cruelty made against him by the
Styrian noble Ottakar von Horneck, who was evidently in full sympathy from

the first with those who resisted the Bohemian claims. Still less can we accept
as authentic the reckless attacks of the chronicler Victor, who was a chaplain of
the House of Hapsburg. But those facts, which seem to be indisputable, are
sufficient of themselves to account for Ottakar’s failure to reduce the province
to submission. As usual in such cases, intriguers were found to intensify the
king’s suspicions by false accusations; some nobles were thrown into prison on
insufficient evidence; and when the case broke down against them, their accuser
was in turn imprisoned. Finally, Milota, the governor appointed by Ottakar,
tried to bring in Bohemian soldiers and Bohemian settlers to maintain the
authority of the king.
But, though all these elements of discontent were gradually ripening to
violent conclusions, to outward appearance Ottakar was still at the height of his
power. Old King Bela of Hungary, in dying, placed his wife, daughter, and
barons under the special protection of Ottakar; and, when Bela’s son and
successor Stephen tried to shake off the power which his father had given to
Bohemia, he found himself opposed by the bishops and archbishops of
Hungary, and by some even of the barons. Ottakar was able to dictate peace in
Hungary itself, and Stephen was forced to renounce all claims to Styria and
Carinthia.
A change, however, was shortly to occur in Europe which was to diminish
one of the chief causes of Ottakar’s success. In his, as in former reigns,
Germany’s difficulty had been Bohemia’s opportunity; and it was Ottakar’s too
ready recognition of this fact which now brought him into collision with the
wisest and most patriotic rulers in Europe, as well as with some of the most
daring intriguers. Ever since the death of Henry VI., the son of Barbarossa, the
claim to the throne of the Holy Roman Empire had been perpetually disputed.
The striking and romantic figure of Frederick II. had indeed arrested the
attention of Europe in a marked manner; but the intense hatred felt for him by
all the Popes, his own preference of Sicily to Germany, and the complete
disorganisation produced by the Tartar invasion, had combined to prevent him
from establishing any firm rule in the Empire. Since his death the phantom
figures of William of Holland, Conrad the Fourth, Alfonso of Castille, and
Richard of Cornwall had flitted across the stage of German politics, each
contributing a certain amount of increase to the general anarchy. In the absence
of any settled central government, the great towns of Germany had endeavoured
to form leagues for their own protection, and in the general interest of order; but
even these had a difficulty in maintaining their existence against the pretensions
of the archbishops and the robberies of the knights and nobles.

In such a state of things the first instinct of those who desired to restore order
was to choose the strongest ruler who could be found; and therefore it was not
altogether surprising that the Imperial crown was offered, by some at least of
the German princes, to Ottakar himself. The grounds of Ottakar’s refusal have
been variously given; and it is highly probable that both of the explanations
offered were parts of the truth. On the one hand his nobles, already jealous of
his power, were extremely unwilling that he should have a new and independent
force at his back, which would enable him still further to overawe them; while,
on the other hand, Ottakar himself saw clearly that the position of King of
Bohemia and King-maker of the Empire was a far safer and more powerful one
than the position of a Holy Roman Emperor, checked, and often controlled, by
the Electors of the Empire.
The Elector who took the most prominent part in this offer to Ottakar had
been the Archbishop of Köln; but Werner of Mainz now succeeded in inducing
the Archbishops of Köln and Trier to join him in an alliance which was to
secure the election of an Emperor who would be amenable to their advice.
Werner had been specially alarmed at the growth of Ottakar’s power; for any
development of Bohemian independence would weaken the power of the
Empire over the diocese of Prague, and would thereby weaken also the
ecclesiastical authority of Mainz. He was, therefore, specially anxious to secure
a counterbalancing power to Ottakar’s, but a power which would at the same
time be dependent on the Electors of the Empire. The Archbishops first
considered, and then rejected, the proposal to raise to the Imperial throne the
Count Palatine of the Rhine; for they soon saw that he might be useful as an
ally, but extremely dangerous as a master. As the great hindrance to the unity of
the Empire seemed, at that time, to come from the South, it was particularly
necessary for the Archbishops to win to their side Duke Louis of Bavaria, who
was the principal rival and enemy of Ottakar. Bavaria had recently been divided
into two parts, between the two brothers Louis and Henry; and the warm
friendship of Henry for Ottakar had strengthened the opposition of Louis.
Louis, indeed, may have himself dreamt of the Imperial crown; but neither the
Archbishops, nor the more northern Electors, were disposed to concede this
dignity to him. They had, however, a bait which was sufficiently attractive to
the Duke.
It appeared that in the year 1257, the Duke of Bavaria had taken part in one
of those confused elections to the Empire which had given an opportunity for
every kind of irregular interference. The Archbishops now proposed to
recognise this precedent as conferring on the Duke of Bavaria the position of

Elector of the Empire, and thus completing the mystic number of seven, without
the help of the King of Bohemia. A candidate for the throne had, however, still
to be found; and, as the idea of choosing one of the more powerful princes was
now definitely abandoned, the Margrave of Brandenburg and the Duke of
Saxony put forward a kinsman of their own, named Siegfried of Anhalt.
The majority, however, of the Electors, and the most active spirits among
them, desired to strengthen their position in the South rather than the North of
Germany; and it was now that Frederick of Hohenzollern, the Burggraf of
Nürnberg, brought forward the candidate for whom he had been secretly
preparing the way. This was Count Rudolf of Hapsburg, the owner of a castle
near the Lake of Constance, who had become known in his own neighbourhood
as the protector and champion of Bern and other growing towns. He had gained
considerable reputation for military ability; and he had evidently some of that
personal power of fascination so important to a great ruler. Fortunately for his
chances of success he had already attracted the attention of Werner of Mainz, at
the time when the Archbishop was on his journey to Rome to be confirmed in
his diocese. But, besides this important support, Rudolf had another source of
influence, the peculiar use of which was to be a marked characteristic of his
descendants. He had a large number of marriageable daughters. One of these
was promised to the Count Palatine of the Rhine; and by marriage with another
the Duke of Saxony was persuaded to abandon the cause of Siegfried of Anhalt.
By what means the Elector of Brandenburg was won over is not quite clear;
and, in all probability, he was the least willing of the Imperial Electors to grant
his support to Rudolf. His opposition, however, cannot at this time have been
very decided; for, when the Electors held their formal meeting, the resolution to
support Rudolf was unanimous.
Thus far the intrigues appear by some mysterious means to have been kept
from the knowledge of Ottakar. But such an arrangement could not long be hid.
Henry of Bavaria must necessarily have been admitted to the knowledge of
some of these proceedings; and, although the Electors were anxious to
conciliate him, he was not yet prepared to abandon his friendship for Ottakar.
Probably, therefore, it was through his means that Ottakar had received notice
of the meeting of the final Assembly for deciding the election; and he was able,
therefore, to send a representative to it. Apparently, however, the King of
Bohemia had not even yet realised the full extent of his enemies’ intrigues; and
it was with the greatest surprise and indignation that his representative
discovered that the meeting to which he had been summoned was merely called
to confirm an election already previously agreed upon. That Ottakar should be

indignant at this ignoring of his electoral rights was natural enough; but the
amazement and horror which the election of Rudolf excited in his mind can
only be described in his own words.
In November, 1273, he addressed to Pope Gregory X., who had then been
recently elected, his protest against the decision of the Electoral College.
Beginning with a most glowing and somewhat fulsome description of the
Papacy, he then proceeds as follows:—
“Wherefore, if the commonwealth is ever oppressed, neither reason nor our
wishes allow us to have recourse to any but you. Whence, since the Princes of
Germany who have the power of choosing the Cæsars have agreed (we would
not speak with spiteful poison, nor has detraction a place in a royal speech) to
direct their votes to a less suitable Count, in spite of the protest of our
customary messengers whom we sent to Wrauenwrt, where the election ought to
have been held; and since, to the injury of the Empire and to our prejudice, after
our appeal to the Apostolic Chair, they have decorated him with the majesty of
the sacred diadem, we return to you as the inexhaustible fountain of justice and
piety, entreating your Holiness not to permit us to be trampled on in our rights,
which the aforesaid princes try to crush down with manifest injuries; and that
you will deign to turn your sacred mind to the weeping state of the Empire; and
that the blessed benignity of Mother Church will take compassion on it; since
that Empire, before which the whole world has trembled, which was entrusted
with all the most excellent dignities of monarchy, has now fallen to those
persons whom obscurity hides from fame, who are deprived of power and
strength, and weighed down by the burden of poverty. Pity us! holiest Father!
lest that which is so pressed down may be seen to be most unworthy; since, if
the Apostolic Chair permits it, if the world tolerates it, that so high an exaltation
should be granted to those that are low, it would be reduced to nothing; and that
which the Arab has served, the Indian has obeyed, the Italian has submitted to,
the Spaniard has looked up to, which the whole world has reverenced, should
become despicable in the eyes of all. Him whom the Senate and Roman people,
whom law and virtue, whom God Himself has established on the throne, every
one will despise as scorning the bridle of a poor man. And thus justice will be
stifled, concord will be banished, peace will perish in a reign of crimes, injuries
will flourish unpunished, neighbour will rise against neighbour, and such
calamity and misery will hang over us that all who live will hate their life.”
Surely a more pathetic appeal was rarely addressed by a great ruler to the
head of the Christian Church. But Gregory X., though willing like his
predecessors to be on good terms with the King of Bohemia, was probably not

so ill-informed of the affairs of Europe as not to know that many of the evils
which Ottakar depicted as likely to follow on Rudolf’s election, had already
disturbed the Empire for many years past; and he was soon to be convinced that
the election of Rudolf might be the best way of removing them. Rudolf, on his
part, lost no time and spared no pains in destroying in the Pope’s mind the only
objection which might possibly have interfered with his acceptance. While
eager to secure his recognition and coronation as Holy Roman Emperor by the
Pope, Rudolf, more than any Emperor since Henry the Fowler, desired to be, in
all essentials, merely a German King. He eagerly assured the Pope that he had
not the slightest wish to assert those claims in Italy and Sicily which had
brought Frederick II. and other emperors into collision with the Papacy; nay, he
would even defend the nominees of the Pope in their claims on Sicily, and
would in all things be the faithful servant of the Church. But, though Gregory
very soon showed an inclination to accept the choice of the German Electors, he
still paused on the brink of so important a decision; and this pause was
ingeniously used by the ablest of Ottakar’s advisers, Bruno, Bishop of Olmütz.
Gregory, who seems to have been one of the most high-minded Popes of the
period, was sincerely desirous of restoring a better state of things in Europe,
partly as a preparation for a new expedition to Palestine. In order to ascertain
the real feeling and purposes of the Christians of Europe, he requested various
bishops to report to him on the condition of the countries with which they were
acquainted. Whatever other results this appeal may have produced, Bruno saw
in it an admirable opportunity for furthering his master’s interests. The growth
of heresy, the maintenance of the Cumani by the King of Hungary, the extreme
poverty and misery of the clergy, the indifference of the bulk of the people to
religious services, the intrusion of the mendicant friars into the offices of the
parochial clergy and bishops, the unwillingness of the laity to hear their sins
denounced, and the continual encroachment of lay judges on the privileges of
the clergy—all these evils are aggravated by the elevation to high places of
those who ought rather to be subjects. The only trustworthy champion of the
Christian faith is the King of Bohemia; even in the very diocese of Prague he is
the only patron who grants the presentation of the clergy to the bishops; and on
him mainly will fall the burden of resisting a new Tartar invasion. Bruno
undoubtedly stood high in the opinion of Gregory; and, even apart from his
advice, there were obvious grounds for inquiry in the circumstances of Rudolf’s
election. A Council was therefore held at Lyons for the full investigation of this
question; an unusually large number of bishops attended it; and it doubtless
received dignity in the eyes of many by the presence of Thomas Aquinas and
Bonaventura. Bruno’s protest was heard at full; while, on the other hand,

Rudolf’s readiness to meet the demands of the Pope, and to acknowledge the
rights of the clergy was pressed upon Gregory’s attention. Anxious to treat
Ottakar mildly, but conscious that the Church and the Empire would both gain
by the election of Rudolf, Gregory decided that, though Ottakar’s claim to share
in the election was undoubtedly just, yet, as the six other Electors took the
opposite side to that which he advocated, he was in the minority, and ought
therefore to yield; and the Pope persuaded Bruno to use his influence with his
master in favour of Rudolf.
But the question, in the meantime, was assuming a new aspect. Rudolf’s
alarm at the opposition of Ottakar, and his desire to secure all the Imperial
rights, were combining with other circumstances to induce him to put forward a
claim for the restoration to the Empire of the Duchies of Austria, Styria,
Carniola, and Carinthia. Ottakar had been unwilling to resist the pressure of the
Pope and the advice of Bruno; but he now demanded that, before doing homage
to Rudolf, he should have a clear guarantee for the possession of the lands that
he had conquered.
In his determination to resist the demands of Rudolf, Ottakar seems to have
been strangely unaware of the dangers that were surrounding him. Rudolf was,
in the meantime, making allies with great sagacity. Count Meinhard of the Tyrol
had been the Count of Hapsburg’s most intimate friend; and he was one of the
many who looked with jealous eyes on Ottakar’s possession of Carinthia. The
Archbishop of Salzburg had claimed some rights in Styria, and was besides
continually harassed by encroachments on the part of Ottakar; Henry of Bavaria
had been one of those to whom the nobles of Styria had offered their dukedom;
and though his friendship for Ottakar shows that he must have abandoned this
claim for a time, the offer of one of Rudolf’s useful daughters finally detached
him from his alliance with Bohemia.
In the meantime, the indefatigable Burggraf of Nürnberg had discovered and
fomented the discontents of the nobles of Austria and Styria; and he announced
to Ottakar that the Ban of the Empire had been proclaimed against him. But
even now Ottakar was unaware of Rudolf’s plans; he probably despised his
military ability; and he thought it sufficient to send a small force to the defence
of the Bohemian frontier, while he gave himself up to hunting and other
amusements. He was, therefore, terribly startled when, in September, 1276,
Rudolf suddenly entered Austria. Almost at the same time Count Meinhard
invaded Carinthia, and the Styrian nobles, rising in insurrection, drove out
Milota from their country. Still Ottakar hoped to save himself by the devotion of
the towns; for six months, Vienna justified his expectations by holding out

against Rudolf’s army; and Paltram, the Burgomaster, roused the citizens to a
vigorous defence on behalf of the King, who had showed them such favour.
Ottakar, now stirred to action, marched into Austria and occupied one side of
the Danube; from whence he hoped to make an attack on the rear of Rudolf’s
army. But the Count Palatine of the Rhine hastened to seize the fortresses which
lay between him and the German army; and it was now that Ottakar became
thoroughly aware of the defection of his nobles. Fortress after fortress
surrendered to Rudolf without a struggle; and at last the poorer men in Vienna,
seeing the continual destruction of their vineyards outside the city, called upon
Paltram to surrender. He, finding that Ottakar did not arrive, despaired of
holding out longer; though, before surrendering, he exacted from Rudolf a
promise that he would maintain the liberties of Vienna.
As soon as Bruno of Olmütz heard of this loss, he advised Ottakar to yield.
Ottakar was most reluctant that the struggle should end without a pitched battle;
but another enemy now threatened to appear on the scene. Ladislaus, the new
king of Hungary, was smarting under the recollection of the defeats which his
predecessor had sustained; and he prepared to invade Bohemia. This new
danger seems to have decided Ottakar to yield. He therefore publicly
surrendered to Rudolf all his claims on Austria, Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola,
and did homage to him as Emperor for his kingdom of Bohemia and Moravia.
Such a settlement could not possibly be lasting. Ottakar had not yet been
defeated in any pitched battle; his wife Kunigunda is said to have reproached
him for his weakness in yielding so soon; and, in the carrying out of the treaty
which followed, numerous questions, of doubtful interpretation, quickly came
to the front. In this case, one of Rudolf’s otherwise successful daughters proved
a source of contention rather than of unity. Guta, the daughter whom Rudolf had
offered as a bride to Ottakar’s son, had been promised large lands as her dowry;
and Ottakar maintained that, as these lands must necessarily lie in Austria, he
was not bound to evacuate those territories, but should rather claim them as his
due. Rudolf, on the other hand, insisted that the terms of the treaty involved the
evacuation of the whole of Austria.
A question which must have touched Ottakar far more nearly was the
interpretation of the clause about the extension to the supporters of each King of
all the securities gained by the peace. The discontent of the nobles with
Ottakar’s rule had extended even to Bohemia and Moravia; and many of the
king’s native subjects had entered into intrigues with Rudolf. Rudolf maintained
that, as these men must be considered his supporters, they were entitled to the
same concessions as the other champions of his cause. It was obvious that such

grounds of division as these, by whatever compromise they might be settled at
the moment, must leave a lasting sting behind them; and there is no sign in the
letters of either King of even such a pretence of friendship, as the ordinary
exigencies of diplomacy might seem to require. Both Rudolf and Ottakar were,
in fact, preparing for a new struggle, and looking about for allies.
At this stage the chances seemed to be in favour of Ottakar. In the first
struggle he could rely on nothing but the military forces of his own kingdom,
and the sympathies of those citizens whom he had favoured; while Rudolf was
backed by the approval and encouragement of the great princes of the Empire,
by the sanction of the Pope, by the assistance of the King of Hungary, and by
the eager sympathy and co-operation of the discontented subjects of Ottakar.
Now, these supporters seemed to be gradually dropping off from the
Emperor. Rudolf had by no means abandoned that championship of the towns
for which he had been so distinguished before his election to the Imperial
throne; and of all the enemies of the town life of Germany the prince-bishops
were looked upon as the most determined and dangerous. Rudolf had therefore
to choose between adherence to his old policy and the favour of his
archiepiscopal supporters. With a courage which was doubtless united to far-
sighted wisdom, he boldly defended the municipal rights of Köln against the
encroachments of its Archbishop. That powerful Elector was thus completely
alienated from Rudolf’s cause; and he speedily succeeded in persuading his
brother Archbishops of Trier and Mainz to desert their nominee. The defection
of Werner of Mainz so alarmed Rudolf that he seemed disposed to make some
sacrifice of principle in order to conciliate him. But the concessions which the
Emperor offered were not sufficient to appease the jealousies and suspicions of
the Archbishop; and Werner now began to listen only too readily to the
advances of Ottakar.
The Margrave of Brandenburg can never have been a warm supporter of
Rudolf. He had married Ottakar’s sister; and he was united to him also by the
still closer link of military comradeship; for Ottakar and he had fought side by
side in one of those invasions of Prussia, which were supposed to be so
advantageous to the souls of the heathen population, and which undoubtedly
tended to increase the power and territory of the Margrave of Brandenburg. Nor
does the Duke of Saxony seem to have been finally secured to the interest of
Rudolf by the marriage with his daughter. Even the Dukes of Bavaria did not
feel that they had profited as much as they had hoped to do by their support of
the Emperor; and they were not a little alarmed at his evident intention to turn
the provinces, which he had won for the Empire, into a private possession of the

House of Hapsburg. Nor was Rudolf more fortunate when he tried to find allies
abroad whose support might compensate him for the loss of his friends at home.
In vain he made advances to our Edward I.; and an attempt to strengthen his
hands by alliances with the princes of Italy, had the sole result of exciting the
suspicions and enmity of Pope Nicholas III.
Ottakar was, of course, greatly encouraged by these secessions from his rival;
and he hoped still further to strengthen his own position by detaching the King
of Hungary from his alliance with Rudolf, and by stirring up an insurrection in
Austria. In both these efforts, however, he was unsuccessful. The conspiracy
formed by some of the Austrian nobles, in concert with the still discontented
Burgomaster of Vienna, was detected by Rudolf before it had come to a head;
and while Paltram was forced to save himself by flight, one of the leading
nobles was seized and condemned to death.
The discovery of this conspiracy seems to have been the signal for the new
outbreak of war; and it was now apparent that Rudolf had not been wholly
weakened by the desertion of his powerful supporters. The forces on which he
could still rely were more ready to act under his command than the great princes
of the Empire would have been; and his one independent ally probably gave
him more efficient help than he could have derived from any distant general.
This was Ladislaus of Hungary, who had been firmly secured to Rudolf’s side,
partly by the gift of one of his inexhaustible tribe of daughters, and partly by a
vague promise of extension of territory. Ottakar was apparently unaware of the
firmness of this alliance; and he entered Austria with a somewhat small force,
expecting an easy victory. One or two fortresses fell quickly into his hands; but
the sudden appearance of the King of Hungary at the head of a large army took
him completely by surprise; and, after suffering a slight defeat, he found it
convenient to retreat to some distance.
Rudolf in the meantime had rallied round him his most determined
supporters. Chief among these was Frederick of Hohenzollern; and the Emperor
also received ready help from Count Meinhard of the Tyrol, the Archbishop of
Salzburg, and the Bishop of Basel. Besides these supporters, he had under his
command a strong force of South Germans; while fiercest and keenest of all the
soldiers in his ranks were those who fought under the banners of the
discontented Styrian nobles.
The rival armies met on the banks of the river Morava on the plain called the
Marchfeld. The battle was a fierce one. The Bishop of Basel and Frederick of
Hohenzollern broke the left wing of the Bohemian army; while, on the other

side, Ottakar, at the head of a chosen band of knights, drove back the right wing
of the Imperialists, and even struck down the Emperor himself. But the Styrian
nobles so fiercely resisted the advance of the Bohemians, that they gave time to
Rudolf to reform his troops; while Frederick of Hohenzollern followed up his
success by attacking the reserve guard, which ought to have advanced to
Ottakar’s rescue. These reserves were headed by Milota, Ottakar’s Governor of
Styria. It is said that Milota himself had a bitter grievance against the king, on
account of an injury inflicted on his brother. Whether this is true or not, it seems
certain that, just when these troops ought to have hastened to the support of the
main army, they were suddenly seized with a panic, and fled in confusion. The
panic quickly spread to the troops posted next to them; and the battle was
hopelessly lost. Ottakar fought with desperate courage to the last; and, whether
he died sword in hand, or whether, as others say, he was killed by the Styrian
nobles after he had surrendered, it is certain that his body was found on the
battlefield.
With him, for a time, fell the liberty and independence of Bohemia; and,
though his son bore the name of king, and even recovered for a short period an
appearance of independence, yet, politically considered, the male line of those
Bohemian native rulers, who traced their descent to Libus̆ a and Pr̆ emysl, came
to an end on the plain of Marchfeld in August, 1278. Bohemian independence
was, indeed, to revive under a different form; and, nearly two centuries later, a
native Bohemian king was once more to rule at Prague; but never again was a
purely Bohemian dynasty to be established on the throne.
With all its faults, the line of the Pr̆ emyslovci had produced as many able and
patriotic rulers as most royal houses can boast of. They had steered their
country through its difficult progress from Paganism to Christianity. They had
reduced the rival kingdom of Poland from the position of a dangerous aggressor
into that of a tributary State. They had helped to roll back the tide of Hungarian
conquest; they had made themselves a powerful factor in the policy of the
German Empire. Amid the despair of Europe, they had stood almost alone
against the crushing invasion of the Tartars. And last, and most important of all,
they had begun to develop the municipal liberties of their country, in a way
which gave good promise of future prosperity. That in this last matter they had
borrowed largely from German models, only showed their power of rising
superior to a most natural national prejudice; while, in the case of Ottakar II.,
his enlightened policy towards the Jews must have often brought upon him the
rebukes of those clergy on whom he so much relied for help. He failed, because
he was not content to be king of Bohemia, but wished to be the head of a

powerful State which could dictate the policy of the Empire. Had he been
satisfied to develop the liberties of his own country in peace, he might have laid
the foundations of a State, which could even now have been playing an
independent part in the affairs of Europe.

V.
TIME OF ANARCHY IN BOHEMIA FROM DEATH OF
OTTAKAR II. TO ACCESSION OF CHARLES IV.
(1278-1346.)

If tried by the standard of ordinary conquerors, Rudolf of Hapsburg must be
admitted to have been merciful, and even generous, in his dealings with
Bohemia. Although, after the death of Ottakar, he continued for some time to
hold Moravia as a conquered province, he set himself to restore those Moravian
cities which had suffered by the war; and he readily confirmed all the municipal
liberties, which had been granted by Ottakar and previous kings. He always
treated Kunigunda as a Queen; he secured to her, not only her own money
dowry, but also that district of Opava (in Moravia) which had been specially
settled upon her; and, as will be seen, he protected her from the cruelty of the
friends in whom she had too rashly trusted. To her son, Wenceslaus, he was
even more generous. The daughter whom he had promised in 1276 to the son of
the still powerful King of Bohemia, he was still ready to give to the orphan of a
defeated and conquered man.
As soon as the boy’s age permitted such a step, he restored him to his father’s
throne, and helped him, sometimes by wise advice and sometimes by force of
arms, to maintain his power over his subjects. Doubtless this policy, however
magnanimous, was part of a scheme of action which tended to strengthen and
increase Rudolf’s power. The towns in Moravia, whose liberties he confirmed,
he raised into free cities of the German Empire; and he saw the wisdom of
winning to his side, and holding in friendly subjection, the young and spirited
King of a kingdom which had so often been a hindrance to schemes of Imperial
policy. Yet, allowing for these considerations, it cannot be denied that the
consistent execution of such a policy must have required a masterly self-
restraint, and a splendid coolness of judgment, not often found in conquerors of
any time.
But the feat which he had attempted was one which many circumstances
combined to make impossible; and men, of a very opposite type to Rudolf’s,
speedily frustrated his efforts for a peaceable and gradual absorption of
Bohemia in the German Empire. Queen Kunigunda had naturally desired to

make a further stand against her husband’s conqueror; and she called to her aid
the son of that Otto of Brandenburg who had been Ottakar’s companion in arms,
and afterwards his brother-in-law. He came; and the queen had speedy cause to
regret her invitation. The struggle between Otto and Rudolf was of short
duration, and the Margrave was soon willing to accept the Emperor’s terms of
peace and one of his inexhaustible tribe of daughters.
Otto soon showed that it was not for the sake of the wife and son of his old
friend that he had come to Bohemia. Under pretence of investigating some old
charter of Ottakar’s, Otto sent German soldiers to Prague to find out the places
where Ottakar’s bailiff had kept the royal treasure. These soldiers entered one of
the chief monasteries, and there discovered a large chest which had been used
by many people during the war as a storehouse for food, clothes, and other
property. This chest the Germans at once broke open and plundered of its
contents; and then, as if determined to offend the national feeling to the utmost,
they rushed into the chapel of St. Wenceslaus and rifled the tomb of the saint.
These outrages were followed by a yet more daring act of violence. Otto
suddenly entered Prague by night, seized the queen and prince in their rooms,
while still half dressed, and carried them off to a fortress, where he set German
soldiers to guard them, and would permit no Bohemian to see them. Some
Bohemian nobles demanded the release of these captives, and Otto promised to
set them free; but he broke his promise. Kunigunda, indeed, by a series of ruses,
succeeded in escaping from her imprisonment and taking refuge in her own
special dominions at Opava; but her boy remained a prisoner in Otto’s hands.
In the meantime the soldiers, who had been brought in by Otto to carry out
his tyrannical purposes, began a series of plundering expeditions on their own
account. The unfortunate peasants fled from their fields and took refuge in the
woods, leaving the lands wholly uncultivated. Even worse calamities fell on the
towns. The large-minded policy of the two Ottakars and of Wenceslaus I. now
proved a source of evil and division. They had tried to induce Germans and
Bohemians to live together in towns, established under German municipal laws,
and often peopled in the first instance by German immigrants. But these
enlightened kings had not been able thereby to stifle race-hatred and jealousy;
and the German settlers now looked upon the wild soldiers of Otto as their allies
against the native Bohemian citizens. They invited the leaders of the plundering
parties into the towns, and with their help expelled the Bohemians. Prague was
the only city strong enough to resist this Germanising process; and Tobias, the
Bishop of Prague, tried to rally the faithful nobles of the kingdom round
Kunigunda. This effort was a desperate one; and, even when Otto left Bohemia

for a time, his viceroy, the Bishop of Brandenburg, carried his ruthless policy
still further, plundering the clergy and treating the remonstrances of Bishop
Tobias with scorn and insolence.
At last the Bohemians were forced to call in their former conqueror to deliver
them from this cruel tyranny; and Otto soon succumbed to the Imperial forces.
He consented to summon an Assembly at Prague, at which he appointed Bishop
Tobias as chief ruler of the kingdom; and he further issued a decree that those
Germans who had entered Bohemia for the purposes of plunder should leave the
country within three days. He again promised to release young Wenceslaus, and
again broke his promise. The German robbers, awed doubtless by the power of
Rudolf, hastened to obey the orders of their master. But the evil seed which they
had sown did not cease to produce its natural fruits.
It must be remembered that for three years the lands had been left
uncultivated; and trade, except where carried on by Germans, had been totally
paralysed. The consequence of these misfortunes was a terrible famine.
Unemployed workmen and starving peasants crowded into Prague and enforced
by violence their demands for food and clothing. Driven out by the authorities
of the city, they perished of cold in the woods; large holes were filled with the
dead bodies; family affection ceased in the bitter struggle for life; and, when all
kinds of strange food had been tried and exhausted, mothers killed and ate their
own children.
At last, in 1283, a better harvest began to restore some hope for a return to
human conditions of life. Then wild rumours and speculations fed the rising
expectation. A beautiful rainbow was the source of bright prophecies; and a half
belief began to arise in some minds that King Ottakar was not really dead, and
would return in triumph. Suddenly a definite announcement took the place of
dreams and fancies. Not Ottakar, but his son Wenceslaus, was to return to reign
in Bohemia. Base and sordid to the last, Otto had demanded from the half-
starved Bohemians a ransom of 35,000 marks, as compensation for what he
called his care and expense in guarding the young Bohemian king, in reality as a
bribe not to break any more promises. But the sum was paid, and no doubt
willingly.
There is something inexpressibly touching in the enthusiasm which greeted
the return of the twelve-year-old king. Men, hardly recovered from years of
starvation and plague, seemed at once convinced that at last a better time was
coming; and on June 9, 1283, barons, knights, clergy, citizens, and peasants
flocked out to meet the young king, Bishop Tobias leading the motley throng,

and all singing the hymn of St. Adalbert, the opening words of which had
served Ottakar as a war-cry at the fatal battle of the Marchfeld.
But the troubles of Bohemia were not yet at an end. The boy followed his
most natural instinct in appealing to his mother to join him in Prague.
Unfortunately, Kunigunda had in the meantime formed a connection which
proved most dangerous to the peace and order of the country. Zavis̆ of
Falkenstein belonged to a noble family of Moravia, and he had succeeded in
securing the queen’s affection during her residence in Opava. Whether the
marriage, which was recognised at a later time, had already taken place, or
whether, as some said, their connection was one of illicit love, certain it is that it
was the affection between them, rather than the form of its expression, which
excited the indignation and jealousy of the Bohemian nobles; and Zavis̆ soon
justified that indignation.
No sooner did he appear at the Court of Prague than he set himself to oppose
and drive away such patriots as Bishop Tobias, and to put his own favourites in
their place. An insurrection quickly followed; and though Rudolf exerted
himself to pacify the insurgents, he soon showed in an unmistakable manner his
own distrust of the new ruler of Bohemia.
In January, 1285, Wenceslaus, now arrived at his fourteenth year, was
married to Guta, the daughter of Rudolf. Zavis̆ was so conscious of Rudolf’s
distrust, that he did not venture to enter the town where the marriage was
solemnised. This absence, however, did not satisfy the Emperor; and he took the
extreme step of carrying back Guta with him, after her marriage, to preserve her
from the influences which prevailed at Prague. Either encouraged by these signs
of Rudolf’s feelings, or irritated by some new insolence on the part of Zavis̆ , the
Bohemian nobles raised a second insurrection; but they were again
unsuccessful, and it was not till the death of Kunigunda, in 1287, that
Wenceslaus succeeded in shaking off the power of his stepfather.
An excellent excuse for this final effort for freedom was supplied by Rudolf,
who declared that he would not restore Guta to her husband until Zavis̆ was
banished from the court. Wenceslaus was, no doubt, glad enough to get back his
wife in exchange for his stepfather; and, when Zavis̆ intrigued with the King of
Hungary and tried to entrap Wenceslaus, the young king decoyed him back to
Prague and there imprisoned him. The friends of Zavis̆ , both in Hungary and
Bohemia, attempted his rescue; but Rudolf again intervened; and after the
Hungarian invasion had been repelled, Wenceslaus was at last persuaded by his
Imperial father-in-law to put Zavis̆ to death.

The young king now devoted himself to the restoration of order. He broke
down castles, encouraged trade, extended the liberties of the cities, and gained a
high reputation for justice. He even attempted to substitute for the vague mass
of traditional custom a regular code of written laws; but in this attempt he was
defeated by the nobles, who often showed themselves too strong for him.
The fatality which seemed to attend the best and most law-loving kings of
Bohemia dragged Wenceslaus also into the complications of Imperial and Polish
politics. In 1291 Rudolf died; and it soon became evident how bitter was the
hostility which the Hapsburg family had excited among the princes of Germany.
Albert, the son of Rudolf, had indeed made good his power in the dukedoms
of Austria and Styria, but he had shown little sign of his father’s vigour or
ability; and the suspicion felt by the Bohemians towards the whole house of
Hapsburg was increased, in the case of Albert, by the personal quarrels which
had embittered his relations with his brother-in-law, Wenceslaus. Rudolf,
indeed, had made great efforts to preserve the peace; but, as soon as he was
dead, the quarrel again broke out, and Wenceslaus joined with other Electors of
the Empire to choose Adolf of Nassau as Emperor, in opposition to Albert.
His success in securing this election left the King of Bohemia free to carry on
the struggle with Poland. He recovered the often-disputed town of Cracow, and
resumed that claim to the kingdom of Poland which, in some form or other, had
been traditional in Bohemia since the time of King Vladislav. Adolf would
gladly have strengthened the allegiance of Wenceslaus by this or any other
concession; but Albert had an advantage which eventually enabled him to
outbid his rival. He still retained in his hands the towns of Eger (Cheb) and
Pilsen (Plz̆ en), which his father had never surrendered to Bohemia. These
towns, from their nearness to the Bavarian frontier, might be specially
dangerous to the Bohemians if held by an enemy of their country; and their
restoration to Wenceslaus meant the practical revival of Bohemian
independence. This bribe therefore proved too strong for Wenceslaus’s faith; he
withdrew his support from Adolf, and helped to place Albert on the throne of
the Empire. In the following year the King of Poland finally surrendered his
crown to Wenceslaus; and in 1300 Albert gave his Imperial sanction to the
union of Poland with Bohemia.
There was yet another kingdom whose internal affairs had always a
dangerous attraction for the kings of Bohemia. In 1301 the direct line of the old
kings of Hungary came to an end; and a Hungarian bishop, backed by some of
the nobles, offered the crown to Wenceslaus. The young king, though refusing

the offer on his own account, was disposed to accept it on behalf of his son; but
this acceptance brought upon him the hostility of the two greatest Powers of
Europe. The Pope complained that the election was uncanonical; because the
bishop who had taken the leading part in it was not authorised to crown the
kings of Hungary. The Emperor Albert, on his side, had already become
suspicious of the growing power of Bohemia; and, according to one chronicler,
his avarice had been excited by the fame of the silver mines at Kuttenberg
(Kutna Hora). Wenceslaus, indeed, though ready enough to hold his own against
the Emperor, was as anxious as his father had been to remain on good terms
with the Pope. He acknowledged the irregularity in the form of his son’s
election; and, at the same time, he entreated the Pope to secure him the crown in
a canonical manner. But it soon appeared that Boniface’s complaint about the
form of election was a mere pretext, and that the Pope was really intending to
grant the crown of Hungary to the King of Naples. To this arrangement
Wenceslaus would not consent; and hence it came that in 1304 he was
compelled to defend Bohemia against the forces of the Empire, supported by the
authority of the Pope. This time, however, there was no division in the national
feeling. However unwelcome some of Wenceslaus’s schemes might be to the
Bohemian nobles, they had too recently learnt, by bitter experience, the folly of
deserting a national king for a foreign invader. The Bohemians offered a
unanimous resistance to the Imperial army, and Albert was forced to retreat.
But the doom of the male line of the House of Pr̆ emysl was, none the less,
hopelessly fixed. Wenceslaus died in the following year; and his son, after
resigning his claim to the kingdom of Hungary, gave himself up to dissipation
and profligacy. The Poles began to revolt; and during an expedition to Cracow
the last of the male line of the Pr̆ emyslovci was murdered by a traitor.

CATHEDRAL OF OLMÜTZ On SITE OF
CASTLE WHERE WENCESLAUS III. WAS
MURDERED.

It seemed for the moment as if the turn of the House of Hapsburg had once
more come. During the bitter divisions in the Bohemian Assembly which
followed the death of their king, Albert succeeded in thrusting his son Rudolf on
the attention of the Electors; and the majority of those who were present
consented to elect this prince to the Bohemian throne, and even to declare their
crown hereditary in the House of Hapsburg. But this success was only
momentary, for a fierce hatred of the Hapsburgs was deeply rooted in the
Bohemians; and, by a curious irony of fortune, the opponents of Rudolf called
to their aid the son of that Duke of Carinthia who had won his Dukedom by
supporting Rudolf’s grandfather against Ottakar II. Rudolf died after a few
months; and the majority of the next Assembly chose Henry of Carinthia as
their king.
But Albert would not yet yield; and he set up his son Frederick as Rudolf’s
successor. The fight was a fierce one; and it was soon changed from the attempt
of an Emperor to conquer a new kingdom into a struggle of the House of
Hapsburg to maintain its political existence. The opposition to that House was
due, not only to the bitter Bohemian feeling against the German oppressor, nor
yet to the jealousy felt by the great Princes of the Empire towards successful

upstarts, but also to the hatred of those townsmen and peasants who had looked
to Rudolf as their protector, and who found in his descendants their most deadly
enemies.
In May, 1308, the Emperor Albert was murdered by his nephew; and, as the
murderer was the son of Ottakar’s daughter, he was looked upon by the
Bohemians as the avenger of his grandfather. The Electors of the Empire were
now resolved that no further chance should be given to the House of Hapsburg;
and Henry of Luxemburg was elected to the Imperial throne. The fate of
Bohemia once more followed that of the Empire; for the new Emperor quickly
saw his opportunity in the unpopularity of both the claimants of the Bohemian
crown. He secured the hand of Elizabeth, the daughter of Wenceslaus, for his
son John, and thus paved the way for the latter’s succession to the Bohemian
throne. Hence it came about that in 1310 the Estates of Prague enthusiastically
welcomed John of Luxemburg as their king.
It even seemed, for the moment, as if this election would be the signal for a
yet more complete victory of the House of Luxemburg over that of Hapsburg;
for, at the very same time, the Austrians suddenly rose against their Dukes, and
expelled them from all but three towns of the Duchy. But the Emperor Henry
refused to encourage this insurrection; and the Hapsburgs continued to maintain
their position as Dukes of Austria.
Few kings have ever succeeded to the rule of a foreign country with a better
hope of popularity than did John of Luxemburg. The terrible years of anarchy
had made the Bohemians desirous of a strong government, and ready to
welcome any one who seemed to have force and vigour enough to restore order.
As the rival of the hated House of Hapsburg, and the deliverer from the
incapable Henry of Carinthia, the new king was specially acceptable; while his
marriage with the daughter of Wenceslaus might have almost cheated the
enthusiastic Bohemians into the belief that they were once more to be governed
by a national sovereign. John, too, seemed willing enough to meet these
aspirations more than half way. He not only recognised that claim, which had
been formerly asserted against Vladislav, that Bohemians should not be called
to fight outside their kingdom; but he declared that no official should be
appointed in Bohemia or Moravia who was not a native of those countries; and,
more startling still, that none but natives should be suffered to buy lands,
inheritances, fortresses, or any other rights within the country.
But it soon became evident that, if these promises were to be kept to the ear,
they were certain to be broken to the sense. The earliest cause of offence, was,

no doubt, one which might be excused to a boy of fourteen. By the advice of his
father, John accepted the Archbishop of Mainz as his chief counsellor, and
gradually drew around him a number of German courtiers. It appears, indeed,
from trustworthy evidence, that this German Churchman preserved better order
in Bohemia than that which prevailed in the latter part of John’s reign; yet his
position was, notwithstanding, a most difficult one, and several circumstances
combined to make it impossible.
The national feeling of independence, which had been roused to new life by
the promises of John, was unfortunately manipulated at this period by one of
those unscrupulous intriguers who sometimes drift to the front in times of
disorder. His name was Henry of Lipa; and he had already played a part in the
reign of Henry of Carinthia, in exciting the nobles of Bohemia against the rulers
of the towns.
Ever since the time of Ottakar II. the claim of the towns to a share in the
government of Bohemia was being more strongly asserted; and a controversy
which, under their native rulers, might have been settled by peaceful means, had
led, in a time of foreign tyranny, to an outbreak of civil war. In the first phase of
the struggle, the towns had so far made good their claim that they were admitted
to share in the discussions of the Assembly which offered the crown to John;
and such a victory must have tended to prejudice men like Henry of Lipa
against the new king.
Nor was it difficult to give a national colouring to the class selfishness of the
nobles. It will be remembered that Ottakar II. had introduced a large German
element into the towns which he had founded. This measure of wise policy had
been changed into a means of cruel oppression by Otto of Brandenburg; and,
unfortunately for the cause of the towns, Otto had been, apparently, the first
ruler who summoned their representatives to share in the deliberations of the
Estates of the Realm.
Moreover, Henry of Lipa added to his class prejudices a more personal
reason for opposing the existing government. He was attached to the widow of
the late King Rudolf, who was known to her supporters as the Queen of Grätz;
and he was resolved to make good both her claims and his own at the expense
of the peace and order of the country.
To the unscrupulous intriguers who were plotting against their power, John
and the Archbishop of Mainz were unfortunately soon to supply some just
causes of complaint. The death of the Emperor Henry seemed to open to John a
chance for claiming the Imperial throne; and, when he found that his youth was

held to disqualify him for that dignity, he threw all his influence on to the side
of Louis of Bavaria, as he was resolved that no Hapsburg, at any rate, should
again become Holy Roman Emperor. This contest withdrew both him and the
Archbishop from Bohemia; and the German Councillors who were left to
support the queen were little able to stand against Henry of Lipa. John soon
found that his championship of the Bavarian cause was likely to involve him in
a dangerous war; and, fearing to leave a disturbed Bohemia behind him, he
hastened to satisfy his opponents by dismissing his German advisers and taking
Henry of Lipa into his counsels.
A new Hungarian war which broke out at this time enabled Henry to increase
his power, and he used it for inflicting new oppressions on the Bohemian towns.
But a bolder act of presumption at last exhausted the patience of the Court.
Henry ventured, without consulting king or queen, to grant Agnes, the queen’s
sister, in marriage to a Duke of Silesia. This insolence at last roused John to
action, and Lipa was arrested. Before any further steps could be taken, John was
once more called to the German war; and he again left the Archbishop of Mainz
as his viceroy. Henry of Lipa once more appealed to Bohemian feeling against
the German prelate; and, though many of the better men among the Bohemian
nobility were now disposed to stand by their queen, they were not strong
enough to hold their own against these intrigues. John was now earnestly
entreated to return to Bohemia; but, when he hastened back, at the head of his
Rhenish forces, his Bohemian advisers urged him to leave the Germans behind,
and to throw himself on the support of his faithful nobles. John rejected this
advice; he re-entered Bohemia at the head of his German troops, and proceeded
to attack the lands of those nobles who had resisted him.
A general panic now seized the Bohemians; they recalled to their minds the
tyranny of Otto of Brandenburg; and the rumour quickly spread that John was
about to use German soldiers to crush out Bohemian independence. What had
been the intrigue of a mere selfish faction, now swelled into a national
opposition; and the war raged fiercely. Henry of Lipa, indeed, remained the
ostensible leader of the insurgents; but he had so little sympathy with real
national feeling, that he called in Frederick of Austria as his ally; and, when
John offered terms to the rebels, Henry refused them, on the ground that any
treaty of peace must also include the Austrians. At last the Emperor Louis
intervened in the struggle. John was persuaded to send away his Rhenish troops,
to renew his promise to appoint only Bohemian advisers, and once more to give
high office in the State to Henry of Lipa. To these terms the king consented; but
Queen Elizabeth, with keener insight, refused altogether to trust this new

Councillor; and Henry thereupon devoted his whole energies to making
mischief between the king and queen.
The intriguers had now discovered what manner of man they had to deal
with. Vain, profligate, and pleasure-seeking, John was easily persuaded by the
young nobles that his wife had gained too much power over him; and, when
they had once sown in his mind this suspicion, they were able to develop an
elaborate romance of imaginary plots, by which the queen was supposed to be
undermining the throne of John, and securing the power to herself and her son.
John’s selfish vanity soon drove him into violent action. He hastened to the
fortress where the queen was then staying, and used such violent language that
she fled in terror from the place. Then he removed from her her favourite
attendants, carried off her children, and shut up his eldest son for two months in
a dark room.
The indignation which this conduct caused among the citizens of Bohemia
was much increased by the various forms of extortion which John now
proceeded to inflict both on towns and monasteries—extortions devised solely
to obtain money for the pleasures of the King and his courtiers. John, indeed,
had been as ready as any other King of Bohemia to promise the citizens
exemption from certain forms of taxation; and consequently they now
complained, not only of oppression, but also of broken faith. Nor was it merely
in the matter of taxes that the privileges of the citizens were violated. In earlier
times the nobles had claimed the right of demanding forcible quartering in the
houses of citizens for those who were engaged on expeditions in the king’s
service. This claim naturally led to great abuses, against which Ottakar and
Wenceslaus had tried to protect their subjects. In this matter also John had
promised to carry out the policy of his predecessors. But he now encouraged
even his own kinsmen to demand this compulsory entertainment. One citizen
was seized and crucified because he would not give up his money to these
intruders; others were plundered and unjustly imprisoned.
At last the citizens of Prague drew up a formal complaint, which they
authorised six of their number to present to John. Some mischief-maker
persuaded the king that this protest was a first step to insurrection; and his
suspicions were further inflamed by the news that the queen had recently come
to Prague, and had been received with great honour. Furious at this supposed
conspiracy, the king and Henry of Lipa at once marched against Prague. The
citizens, astonished at the interpretation which had been put upon their
remonstrance, were at first disposed to admit the king, in the hopes of an easy
explanation; but some of the nobles, who had remained faithful to the queen,

were opposed to this policy; and they offered such determined resistance, that
John was compelled to retreat from the city. A sort of truce was patched up for a
time, though John insisted that the six citizens who had drawn up the
remonstrance should be expelled from the city. Then he hurried away to finish
the war between Louis and Frederick; and Henry of Lipa was left chief ruler of
the kingdom. He soon succeeded in bringing to an end the temporary
reconciliation between John and Elizabeth; and the queen was forced to fly to
Bavaria, where she remained for some time, in dependence on her Bavarian
relations, since John would not allow any support to be sent to her from
Bohemia.
Then followed many years of oppression and disorder, during which John
only appeared in Bohemia when he wished to demand money from the citizens,
which he then hastened to spend at Paris or on the Rhine, either in the provision
of splendid tournaments, or on some of the many wars which the princes of the
Empire were waging against each other or against the Imperial towns. John’s
special attraction was to Paris, where the court of King Charles was becoming a
centre of pleasure and excitement. It was probably his alliance with this king
which gradually separated John from the cause of Louis of Bavaria; for Charles
felt himself bound to stand by his dependant at Avignon, Pope John XXII., who
had always been opposed to the claims of Louis.
During this time of disorder the nobles had gradually succeeded in drawing
into their power many of the royal fortresses; and, the central authority being
thus fatally weakened, robbery and violence prevailed throughout the country.
Poor Elizabeth ventured back to Prague about 1325; and she used her best
efforts for the good of her country. On the occasion of a plague, she arranged
processions in which sacred relics of great value were publicly exhibited; she
endowed monasteries, and protected them, even with a high hand, against the
intrusions of the nobles; while, for her personal consolation, she contemplated a
thorn from the Sacred Crown, which King Charles of France had sent her as a
present during some of the revels which her husband was enjoying at Paris.
Bishop John of Prague might have given her some help in the government of
the country; but he was summoned to Avignon to be tried as a protector of
heretics, and detained there for thirteen years before he was tried and acquitted.
It was impossible, however, to expect that either the queen or the bishop could
hold their own against such men as Henry of Lipa; and, after the death of the
queen in 1330, even King John began gradually to realise that some better
provision must be made for the government of the country. So, three years later,

he consented to send his eldest son, who had hitherto been detained at Paris, to
try his hand at the restoration of order in Bohemia.
This son had originally been named Wenceslaus, at the time when John was
still hoping to conciliate the national feeling of Bohemia; but he had
subsequently been re-named Charles, in honour of John’s model and ally, the
King of France. He was now seventeen years old; he was welcomed by the
Bohemians as the son of their beloved Elizabeth, and his dignified and
straightforward manners tended to increase the attachment of his subjects. He
speedily showed that enthusiasm for his mother’s country which was to produce
such striking results, when once his hand was free. By judicious economy, he
tried to buy back for the Crown those castles which had been mortgaged to the
nobles; and he made progresses through his dominions, hearing the grievances
of the people and trying to redress them. This policy did not suit those
disorderly nobles who had hitherto ruled at their pleasure. They easily
succeeded in stirring up John’s suspicions against his son, as they had
previously done against his wife; and Charles was deprived of his power and
sent off to the Tyrol. Not many years elapsed, however, before John discovered
that his son would be still necessary to him, if he wished to gain any advantage
from the kingdom of Bohemia. But Charles had now realised that his father was
habitually sacrificing the honour and freedom of the country for the sake of his
own pleasures; and in 1342 the young prince declared that he would only
undertake the government of Bohemia if John would consent to stay away from
it for two years, and would be content with the sum of five thousand marks
during that period.
The popular feeling in Bohemia was strongly in favour of Charles, as against
his father. Indeed, so hated had the latter become, that, when he was shortly
after afflicted with blindness, many Bohemians considered that this suffering
was a judgment upon him for his cruelty and oppression. He therefore
considered it advisable to accept these terms; and Charles’s position was made
still easier by the friendship of Pope Clement VI., who, while anxious to
conciliate the friendship of John, was keenly alive to the desirability of securing
to his side the national sentiment of Bohemia. He therefore raised the Church of
Prague into an archbishopric, emancipating it entirely from the archbishopric of
Mainz; and he also conceded that often disputed demand for the use of the
Slavonic ritual in the monasteries of Bohemia.
Indeed, both John and Clement had a very special reason for desiring to keep
the popular young prince in friendly alliance with them. The ambition, which
John had once cherished on his own behalf, had now been turned into a desire

for the exaltation of his son. For different reasons both the King and the Pope
were now eager for the overthrow of Louis of Bavaria; and they heartily agreed
that Charles was the most hopeful candidate for the Imperial throne. The other
Electors were equally ready for this change; and in July, 1346, Charles was
chosen Holy Roman Emperor. Such a step could not long fail to produce
dangerous results; but, before the opponents of the new Emperor were prepared
for action, the attention of Europe was distracted from their quarrels by a war
between England and France. John eagerly rushed to the support of his old ally;
and, in August, 1346, he died fighting at the battle of Crecy—a death much
admired by the readers of romances, and an infinite relief to the oppressed
Bohemians.

VI.
REIGN OF CHARLES IV.
(1346-1378.)

In writing the life of men who have played a great part in the affairs of the
world, it is generally possible to find some hint in the earlier periods of their life
of a preparation for the important work which has distinguished their later
years. In the case of Charles IV. this link seems at first sight exceptionally
difficult to find. He had been torn away from his mother’s influence in his
earliest childhood; treated with exceptional harshness, at that tender age, by his
father; kept away so long from the country which he was afterwards to govern,
that when he first returned to it he had completely forgotten the Bohemian
language; suddenly thrust into a partial government of the country, at the age of
seventeen; regarded by his father and those who surrounded him with the
utmost suspicion, and snatched away from the government when he was just
beginning to get a firm hold of it. Then he was dragged into Italian wars with
which he had little sympathy, and where men seemed to fight as much with
poison as with swords; a witness of his father’s dissolute life, and surrounded
by evil companions; and, to crown all his difficulties, when he had attained to
full manhood, but had not yet become king of Bohemia, he had been suddenly
raised to the highest dignity in Europe. Such was the preparation which Charles
had received for the government of a kingdom which required special
knowledge, special sympathies, and somewhat exclusive care.

Karl IV. mit der Kaiserin Anna.

LIKENESS TAKEN FROM CHAPEL IN CARLSTEIN.

But in the fragment of autobiography which Charles has left us, he has
himself supplied the clue to at least some part of this difficulty. That residence
in Paris, and intimacy with the King of France, which was to John merely a new
opportunity for self-indulgence and luxury, gave to Charles both that interest in
the higher education of a people which was of so much service to Bohemia, and
a personal zeal for study which doubtless saved him from many of the evils
which surrounded him. The King of France took a great fancy to his young
namesake; and, though he and most of his family were ignorant of literature, he
saw the value of it for others, and urged his chaplain to encourage Charles in his
studies. Paris was at that time the centre of learning. It contained the most
completely organised University, except that of Bologna; and it attracted
students from many parts of Europe. The influence of the king’s chaplain
doubtless developed in Charles that reverence for the clergy and the pope which
was, perhaps, more of a real moral conviction in him than in any prince of his
time. He was also fortunate in the ease with which he acquired new languages;
and this gift enabled him to recover his power of speaking Bohemian without
losing his knowledge of German. Whence he could have derived that intense
Bohemian feeling, which showed itself in all the more important acts of his life,
sometimes even to the prejudice of his work as German Emperor, it is very
difficult to say; but, doubtless, the fervent and practical piety, which always
distinguished him, led him to cling to such traditions as he could gather about
the mother of whom he had seen so little; and the zeal for her country, when he
saw the wrongs inflicted on it by his father, would have been quickened in him
by that hatred of injustice and oppression which was so strong an element in his
character. But, be the causes what they may, certain it is that the first important
use which he made of his double power of Bohemian king and German emperor
was to lay the foundations of a scheme for making Prague the intellectual
centre, not only of Bohemia, but of the whole Empire.
In Bohemia, as elsewhere, book-learning had primarily been considered as
part of the training of the clergy. Under Ottakar II., indeed, an attempt had been
made to enlarge the range of studies, and perhaps to interest in them people of
other professions and races. But, after the fall of Ottakar, Rudolf had feared
anything which would attract his Austrian subjects to Bohemia; and the
Austrian students had been ordered to leave Prague. Wenceslaus II. had tried to
revive and develop his father’s ideas; but, as it was not even then understood
that a University could be intended for all men, the nobles successfully opposed
the scheme, as an attempt to increase the power of the clergy.

Charles soon showed that, while anxious to work with the clergy in this, as in
other matters, he yet aimed at something much higher and wider than a mere
clerical school. Doctors of law, medicine, and natural science were summoned
to join in his new institution; and the Faculties were organised, partly on the
model of Paris and partly of Bologna. The Rector, who was elected by masters
and students, was the chief judge of the University; but, in the matters which
purely related to their own art or science, the elected heads of the Faculties were
left to manage their own affairs. Important as the lectures at the University were
considered, a great deal of the instruction was conveyed through the medium of
public discussions, in some of which all the Masters of Arts were compelled to
take part. Questions of the alterations of the Statutes were decided by a general
assembly, in which masters and students had equal votes.
But one of the most distinctive points of Charles’s scheme, and one which
produced most important effects both for good and evil, was the division of the
University into four Nations. These were called respectively the Bohemian,
Bavarian, Polish, and Saxon. The Bohemian Nation included Hungary; the
Bavarian, most of South Germany; the Polish, Prussia and Silesia; and the
Saxon, all the rest of North Germany, with Denmark and Sweden. Each of these
Nations chose one Elector; the four Electors chose seven others; the seven
chose five; and then these five chose the Rector of the University. For special
cases, not dealt with by the general assembly, a council of eight was appointed,
containing two representatives from each Nation. How much Charles desired to
make his University a centre for the whole Empire may be gathered from the
fact that among the first eight professors one was a Saxon, one a Westphalian,
and one a Frenchman. The tendency to welcome men of learning was
characteristic of Charles’s reign; nor was his welcome confined to teachers and
writers; artists also shared his patronage; and his reign was marked by efforts
after external splendour and stern morality which are seldom found in
combination. The most remarkable outward symbol of these divergent
tendencies is the celebrated fortress of Carlstein (Karluv Tyn, Charles’s town),
which, in its form, its decoration, and special objects, seems to combine the
memories of Charles’s work as king, as moral reformer, and as patron of Art.
Devised for the better protection of the crown jewels, and, at a somewhat later
period, of the charters of Bohemia, it also afforded a place of retirement for
periods of strict and almost ascetic devotion; while the pictures on its walls, and
the precious stones which cover its roof, recall the memory of the
encouragement which the King gave to the Arts of his time.

CARLSTEIN (KARLUV TYN).

But the attempt to combine his work as Emperor with his work as King of
Bohemia was to be the great difficulty of his career; and scarcely had he
succeeded in bringing the University into working order before the great rush of
students began to alarm the inhabitants of Prague. Complaints were made of
disorders, of the high price of provisions, and of difficulties arising from the
want of accommodation in the city. This last objection Charles proceeded to
meet by founding a new suburb of Prague, to be united by ditch, wall, and
bridge with the old city, and to enjoy the same privileges as the rest of Prague.
This helped forward Charles’s plans for raising Prague into Imperial
importance; and the work of uniting all the different parts of the city was
undertaken on so splendid a scale that, in a time of famine, Charles was able to
solve “the problem of the unemployed,” by setting more than a thousand men to
work on the new walls. But there still remained the disorders which had been
brought about by the arrival of German students, who distrusted the justice of
Bohemian tribunals. In order to restore peace, Charles placed the University
directly under his own authority, and allowed no appeal from the decisions of
the Rector, except to the highest court. This creation of an independent
corporation of learning was a necessary stage in the growth of the University,
and contained seeds both of good and evil, to be developed at a later time.
In the founding of this University, Charles had aimed at the accomplishment
of two different objects; the establishment of an intellectual centre for the
Empire, and the development of a new life in Bohemia. The second of these
objects was probably the one nearest to his heart; and it was not only by the
encouragement of learning that he hoped to promote it, but by attention to every
phase of national well-being. He, like his grandfather Wenceslaus, desired to

substitute a written code of laws for the floating mass of customs and traditions
by which Bohemia was, in great part, governed. How far Wenceslaus had gone
towards the execution of this plan cannot be ascertained; but Charles actually
drew up his code, and gave it the name of the Majestas Carolina. If we may
judge from his preface, and from the subject which stands first in the code, the
cause of oppression and disorder which most impressed him in Bohemia was
the alienation of royal lands by the Kings. The power which special nobles had
gained, through these grants, had been often used in a most disorderly manner.
The efficiency of the central Executive had been unduly weakened; and an
excuse had been given for those continual demands for exceptional taxation,
which had so painfully marked the reign of King John. Charles therefore drew
up a careful list of the cities and lands, which, under no circumstances, should
be alienated by the King, nor should any grant of them be asked for by others.
Special arrangements were made for the registration, in a public court, of lands
sold by the nobles; lands were not to be granted to the “dead hand”; special
means of remedy were to be provided against oppression by the King; special
restrictions were to be placed on the power of nobles over their dependants.
Other provisions of various importance were contained in this document; but
the great, and essential, point about it was, that these “Constitutions” were to be
read four times a year in Bohemia, before a full assembly of the people, that all
might know the laws by which they were governed.

PRAGUE (PRAHA) in 1200. PRAGUE (PRAHA) in 1388.

MAPS SHOWING GROWTH OF PRAGUE UNDER CHARLES IV.

This provision pointed to Charles’s chief object in composing the Code; and
it was doubtless this very demand which roused to its height the opposition of
the nobles. It was not merely this or that privilege which the King was
threatening; it was the whole fabric of feudal power, which depended much
more on the separate and individual influence of each noble on his estate, than
on any decrees of a collective Assembly; and this influence must necessarily

give way before a code of written law, set forth by the King, and accepted and
supported by the main body of the people.
Charles was no “benevolent despot,” determined to thrust upon his people, by
force, principles of government for which they were not prepared. He yielded to
the resistance of the nobles, and withdrew the main part of the Majestas
Carolina. The concession was undoubtedly a wise one; and, however excellent
were many of the changes which he had proposed, there were parts of this
remarkable document which make one glad that they were not stereotyped in a
code, nor sanctified in the memories of Bohemians by so close a connection
with their popular king. Thus, for instance, Charles opens his code with a strong
declaration of devotion to the Catholic faith, with a prohibition to Pagans and
Saracens against settling in Bohemia, and with a promise to put down heresy
with the sword.[4] Again, the declaration of the power of lords over their
dependants is only limited by taking from the lords the right of putting out their
eyes or cutting off their hands and feet; and though Charles, no doubt, was
thinking more of these limitations than of the power which he still left to the
nobles; yet it was obvious that such a statement in a code might be used in the
very opposite sense to that in which it was written. That is to say, the code
might have been appealed to in later times as securing to the nobles all the
powers of which it did not expressly deprive them.
But Charles had the statesmanlike instinct which tells a man when to yield
and when to stand firm. There was one reform on which he was determined, and
which he insisted on carrying out in spite of the opposition of the nobles. This
was the abolition of those supposed tests of justice, by which accused persons
were compelled to hold, or to walk upon, burning iron, or to prove their
innocence by risking drowning. We are so apt to consider these superstitions as
bound up with old religious feelings, that we almost instinctively expect to find
this kind of abuse supported by the pious and orthodox in those generations, and
opposed chiefly by some coldly superior persons who are untouched by the
popular feeling of the time. But nothing is clearer than that Charles was stirred
to this great reform by an intense sense of piety and reverence. Witness the
words by which he had preluded this reform in the Majestas Carolina. “For he
who should presume to tempt the omnipotence of God, and to make ridiculous
His secret judgment, by forcing his neighbour to perish by means contrary to
nature, does not deserve to enjoy the comfort of his own natural life.” In this
reform he was steadily supported by Archbishop Arnestus; and, in spite of the
opposition of the nobles, he succeeded in getting these terrible abuses
suppressed. With regard to the ordeal by battle he was less successful. Indeed he

was apparently disposed to accept a rather curious compromise on the subject.
Duelling of all kinds he loathed as disorderly; but, in the case of charges of
treason, he permitted a prosecutor who could bring nine respectable witnesses
to support his charge, to make good his accusation by the final test of the duel.
It does not appear, however, that he succeeded in reducing this foolish practice
even within these limits.
Lastly, and perhaps best of all, he secured to the peasantry the right of
appealing to the King from the feudal courts of their lords. Doubtless the
readiness of the nobles to accept this important reform was much increased by
Charles’s willingness to do justice as against himself. Thus, in a dispute with
some nobles about the possession of a certain castle, he consented to submit the
question to two Bohemian nobles chosen for the purpose; and he abode by the
compromise which they suggested.
In short, in his position as King of Bohemia, Charles generally appears as one
of those exceptional rulers who combine a genuine zeal for reform with a real
sense of justice, and that statesmanlike self-restraint which teaches a man the
difference between the desirable and the possible, between the ultimate ideal
and the immediately practicable. But it is impossible to separate Charles the
Emperor from Charles the King of Bohemia. Many of his greatest reforms, such
as the establishment of the University and the assertion of the independence of
the Prague archbishopric, could not have been carried out so easily, perhaps not
at all, unless he had been able to use his authority as Emperor to back his power
as King of Bohemia, and to secure also the sympathy and approval of the Pope.
So thoroughly was the connection of his Imperial office with his Bohemian
kingship recognised by his subjects, that it is the rarest thing to find this popular
King mentioned in the chronicles by his proper Bohemian title of Charles I.,
still less by his early name of Wenceslaus. The Emperor Charles IV. has
overshadowed and absorbed Wenceslaus alias Charles I. of Bohemia; and yet so
far was he from losing thereby the sympathies of the Bohemians, that it is they
and not the Germans who cherish his memory as that of a great and popular
ruler.
The German view, indeed, is more nearly represented by the saying of
Maximilian I., “Charles was the father of Bohemia, but the stepfather of the
Holy Roman Empire.” This saying, like most epigrams that have lived, has a
mixture of truth and falsehood. Certainly one of the morals of Charles’s career
might seem to be the impossibility of combining these two important offices in
a manner which should satisfy the just demands both of Germans and
Bohemians. But though, as will presently appear, the weaker and worse part of

his policy was connected with his position as Emperor, yet there is evident,
even in his plans for Germany, a real enthusiasm for order, good government,
and, above all, independence of that Papal power which had paralysed German
progress.
The Golden Bull, with which his name is specially connected, shows in many
respects these noble aims. The disorderly state into which the Empire had fallen
had been largely due to the uncertainty of the Electorate. The titles which
carried with them a right of voting for the Emperor, had been so often shared by
different claimants, and the lands which originally marked these titles had been
so often divided, that few could tell who had really the right of choosing the
ruler of Europe; while the irregularity of many elections had given opportunity
for the assertion of spurious claims, like those of the Dukes of Bavaria. Charles
fixed the Electorate on a clear basis, and settled the lands which gave the right
of voting. He also sternly prohibited those private feuds which had done such
evil in Germany. Lastly, he boldly asserted the right of the Electors to choose
the Emperor, without waiting for confirmation of their choice by the Pope. But,
at the same time, he secured for the King of Bohemia the leading position
among the Electors of the Empire; he declared his independence of the Imperial
courts; and he asserted the right of the Bohemians to choose their own king, as
soon as the House of Luxemburg was extinct.
Obviously there was here much to provoke opposition. The smaller princes,
fierce at the restriction on their rights of quarrelling, broke into fresh disorders;
the dukes of Bavaria took up arms to reassert their suppressed electoral rights;
the dukes of Austria were indignant that their claims to the Bohemian
succession, founded on the decree passed in King Rudolf’s Assembly, were now
definitely repudiated. Charles dealt in different ways with these sets of
opponents. The turbulent rioters he forcibly suppressed, but readily admitted to
favour when repentant. From Bavaria, however, he thought it necessary to take
stronger securities. After he had defeated the Dukes in battle, he succeeded in
persuading them to sell to him lands and cities, which he added to the kingdom
of Bohemia, and thereby extended that kingdom as far as Nürnberg. It might be
plausibly urged that Bohemia needed securities for peace against so turbulent a
neighbour as Bavaria; but it was evident, from the additions to his kingdom
which Charles carried out at a later time, that this was but part of his scheme for
securing to Bohemia that predominance in the Empire which was hinted at in
the Golden Bull. Bavaria and the smaller princes being brought to reason, there
remained still the struggle with Austria. Here one might have expected that the
long-standing feud between Bohemian and Austrian, and between the House of

Luxemburg and the House of Hapsburg, would have made the contest deadly in
its course and crushing in its results. Strange to say, it ended in a settlement
which must, even at the time, have startled some Bohemians, though no doubt
they could never have expected that the following century would see the claim
then legalised grow into practical results. In consideration of the peaceable
abandonment by the House of Hapsburg of its immediate claims, it was
promised the succession to the throne of Bohemia as soon as the direct lines of
Charles and of his brother John should have come to an end. In all these matters
Charles had shown a genuine desire for peace and order, which must surely
deserve all recognition.
The same credit cannot be given to another phase of his policy, which arose
from his relations with Louis, the son of his former rival, the Emperor Louis of
Bavaria. The causes of this quarrel must be shortly told. John, the brother of
Charles, had married Margaretha Maultasche, Countess of Tyrol; and he had
thereby acquired her lands. Margaretha, who seems to have been as foul in mind
as she was ugly in face, made a false charge of impotency against her husband;
and, under this excuse, she hastened to welcome the advances of young Louis,
the son of the Emperor, who helped her to drive her husband from the Tyrol.
The Emperor recognised a so-called marriage between his son and
Margaretha; and this act contributed not a little to the storm of indignation
which drove the Bavarian from the throne of the Empire and raised Charles to
his place. Charles was scarcely seated on the throne, before he resolved to
revenge his brother by a raid on the Tyrol. The raid produced no results but
bloodshed and misery; and John was forced to console himself for the loss of
his lands by the Margravate of Moravia, and for the loss of Margaretha by
marriage with a more faithful wife.
But the quarrel between Charles and Louis was not yet at an end. On the
extinction of the line of the former Margraves of Brandenburg, the territory had
been granted to Louis by his father, and he had remained in undisturbed
possession of it for several years. Suddenly, in 1348, a claimant came forward
to the Margravate. This man declared that his name was Waldemar; that he was
son of the late Margrave of Brandenburg; that, since 1319, he had been
supposed to be dead; that his death had been really pretended, in order to escape
from a marriage, which, after its celebration, he had found to be illegal; and
lastly that, his wife being now dead, he had come forward to claim his
inheritance. The story was sufficiently absurd; and it might have been thought
that, even if it were true, a prince who had pretended to be dead for nearly thirty
years, might, in the interest of peace, consent to pretend a little longer. Charles’s

excuse for crediting the imposture was that, as he was too young to remember
the real Waldemar, he trusted in the evidence of the Duke of Saxony and other
princes of the Empire, who, after investigating the case, declared their belief in
the genuineness of the claim. Encouraged by this evidence, Charles only too
gladly seized the opportunity for avenging his brother. He declared war on
Louis, removed him from his Margravate, and established Waldemar in his
place. Eventually it was proved that the so-called Waldemar was the subject and
tool of the Duke of Saxony; and Charles, convinced of the imposture, was
forced to reinstate Louis in Brandenburg. But, his attention once fixed on this
province, he saw in it a new opportunity for aggrandising his House and
Kingdom; and, in restoring it to Louis, he secured to his own son Wenceslaus
the succession to the Margravate.
But, if this unfortunate episode illustrates afresh the dangers which Charles
had to encounter in combining his positions of German Emperor and Bohemian
King, there was at least one side of his policy for which Germans, even more
than Bohemians, have cause to thank him. It has already been mentioned that in
the Golden Bull Charles had asserted the right of the Electors of the Empire to
choose an Emperor without waiting for the confirmation of the Pope. This bold
proposal was connected with that desire for a German rather than a Roman
Empire, which Rudolf of Hapsburg and other wise rulers had cherished.
Charles, as we shall see, had no desire to weaken the Papacy in spiritual
matters, and he had been willing enough to go to Rome to be formally crowned
in the sacred city; but he wished to free the German princes from that
intolerable burden of the rule over Italy which was always involving the
Emperors in useless expeditions, and at the same time to prevent the Popes from
interfering in German affairs.
In his desire to escape from the burden of Italian politics, Charles had to
resist the pressure of two advisers, each remarkable in his special way, and each
disposed to revive the memory of that expedition to Italy, which Charles’s
grandfather, Henry of Luxemburg, had so rashly attempted. The interview
between the first of these advisers and the King must have been most
impressive. It was during a temporary coolness between Charles and Pope
Clement VI., that Charles, while staying in his palace at Prague, was informed
that a merchant, who had recently come to the city, desired to see him on urgent
business. The supposed merchant was admitted; but when called on to state his
business, replied with the startling words, that he had been sent to Charles by a
hermit, to inform him that God the Father and God the Son had hitherto ruled
the world; but that in future it would be ruled by the Holy Spirit alone.[5] This

formula was apparently familiar to Charles, for he at once recognised the
speaker as the ex-tribune Rienzi. Rienzi, when challenged, at once admitted his
identity; then he went on to give a sketch of the rise and fall of his government
in Rome, and urged Charles to send him back to Rome as his representative.
The strain of mysticism in Rienzi’s language, coupled with the Pope’s former
warnings, alarmed the orthodox Charles, and he sent at once for Archbishop
Arnestus. A few questions from Arnestus soon involved Rienzi in statements
which savoured of heresy. The archbishop at once arrested him, and soon after
sent him to Avignon, where he was kept as a prisoner for some time. Even from
prison Rienzi appealed to Charles for sympathy, on the ground that he was the
illegitimate son of the Emperor Henry, and therefore Charles’s uncle. Charles
replied that such a consideration would not affect his action, as we all came
from Adam; and he urged Rienzi to think of his soul, and not to listen to the
friar, whose prophecies would drag him to ruin. The end of Rienzi’s career is
well known; how, returning as Senator and Papal representative to the city
which he had formerly governed in the name of the People, he was soon after
murdered by the Romans, whom he had tried to restore to the “Good State.”
The other adviser, who tried to involve Charles in the responsibilities of the
government of Rome, was a man of very different type. This was the poet
Petrarch, who had first been interested in Charles by the admiration which the
latter had expressed, during a visit to Avignon, for the beautiful Laura. So good
a judge of beauty must, of course, be the poet’s ideal ruler; and Petrarch was
only too eager to play the part of Dante to the grandson of Henry of
Luxemburg. His first appeal to Charles was left unanswered; but, after the fall
of Rienzi, the poet returned to the attack, and urged upon the Emperor the duty
of coming to Rome, and administering the Holy Roman Empire from its capital.
Charles had heard much of Petrarch between the writing of these two letters;
and, admiring his graceful style, readily entered into correspondence with him,
and pointed out to him the difficulties and dangers of the course which he
advised. Petrarch did not cease to urge his proposal, and twice he fancied that
his dream was about to be realised; once, when Charles went to Rome to be
crowned by the Papal representative, and again, at a later time, when he
consented to escort the Pope from Avignon to Rome, and even to compel the
Visconti to abandon their opposition to the Papal claims over some of the
northern towns of Italy. But the first expedition was merely intended to
strengthen his throne by the kind of prestige which the Papal approval was still
supposed to give to it; and the second visit was undertaken in the interests of
Italian order and Papal dignity. In short, though Charles was anxious for
Petrarch’s company, and would have liked him to lecture on literature to the

University of Prague, and to the young Wenceslaus, he had no intention of
following the poet’s advice in the weighty concerns of government.

STATUE OF CHARLES IV. NEAR HIS
BRIDGE IN PRAGUE.

Before concluding this general sketch of Charles’s career, it is necessary to
refer to a project, the character of which may be easily misunderstood. Even
when freed from Italian influence, and united, at least in intellectual interests,
with Bohemia, the German Empire might still be exposed to the disorders
arising from the contests of its princes, especially at the time of the election of
the Emperors. This evil Charles proposed to remove by making the Imperial
crown hereditary in the House of Luxemburg. One must not judge this scheme
as a mere piece of personal ambition. Doubtless there is always something
repugnant to our ideas of strict honesty in those frequent attempts, during the
Middle Ages, to turn an elective position to the permanent advantage of the
family of its accidental occupant. But we must remember that there is an
important difference between the purpose of Charles IV. and other attempts
which appear to have the same character. When, for instance, Rudolf of
Hapsburg used his Imperial position to turn the Counts of Hapsburg into Dukes
of Austria; when the Margrave of Brandenburg made use of his Mastership of
the Teutonic knights as a means of uniting East Prussia with Brandenburg; or
when the Savoyard Pope Felix used his Papal power to extend the dominions of

the House of Savoy; none of these attempts could have profited any one except
the ambitious promoters of them. But, if Charles could have made the German
Empire hereditary in a House which was already powerful by its position in
Bohemia, and could at the same time have delivered it from the terrible
encumbrance of the connection with Italy, many a bitter civil war might surely
have been spared. His attempt failed; and, from some points of view, one may
say that it was well that it failed. But a great design cannot be completely
judged by its results alone.

VII.
THE REFORM MOVEMENT FROM THE DIET OF 1359 TO
THE RETIREMENT OF THE GERMANS FROM THE PRAGUE
UNIVERSITY.
(1359-1409.)

Many causes had paved the way for that revolution, both of thought and
action, which marks the fourteenth century. The complete failure of the crusades
had shaken the faith of the people generally in the leadership of those princes
and nobles who had organised these expeditions. The insurrection of “the
Shepherds” in France had been one of the first results of this feeling; while the
extraordinary performances of the Flagellants or Scourging Friars showed yet
more clearly the extravagances which the popular discontent might produce.
Nor, in the general whirl of thought and feeling, was it easy to foresee on
which side any new development of this feeling should be classed; whether it
should be condemned as a source of heresy and a disturbance of order, or
applauded as a revival of stronger faith and stricter discipline. The Dominicans
and Franciscans, called into existence to combat heresy and to strengthen the
Papal power, were looked upon by the secular clergy as intruders on their lawful
privileges and disturbers of the peace; while the Franciscan renunciation of
property gradually led them on to the advocacy of doctrines, which were at least
as inconvenient to Popes and Cardinals as to the secular nobles.
It is characteristic of the way in which anxiety for their temporal possessions
was colouring all the feelings of the defenders of the Church, that, throughout
the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the name with which its champions were
most eager to brand their opponents, as indicating the darkest shade of heresy,
was the name of “Picard.” This word was a corruption of “Beghard,” the title of
a Flemish sect, which had been distinguished for its devotion and zeal for
prayer, but which had alarmed the rulers of the world by its advocacy of
community of goods.
The confusion produced in men’s minds by the failure of the Church’s armies
to recover Palestine, was still further increased by the retirement of the Popes to
Avignon, and at a later time by that schism in the Papacy which followed the

restoration of the Papal rule in Rome; and, along with the desire for the re-
establishment of the unity of the Church, there grew the wish for a revival of
peace and purity in the general life of Europe.
Of all the rulers of the fourteenth century Charles IV. seemed the most likely
to guide these conflicting movements into channels, which should be at once
favourable to the champions of the Papacy, and welcome to the promoters of
peace and purity.
As King of Bohemia he had inherited, through his mother’s family, traditions
of special devotion to the Church; and most of the circumstances of his career
were of a kind to encourage the hopes of the Pope and the clergy. He had been
elected to the Imperial throne, in opposition to the most bitterly anti-papal of
Emperors, Louis of Bavaria; he had steadily opposed all the proposals which
had been made to him, to induce him to assert his Imperial authority over the
Italian cities; and he had prefaced the Majestas Carolina with an assertion of his
adherence to the Catholic faith, and a denunciation of heresy. No doubt that
clause in the Golden Bull which repudiated the necessity of a Papal sanction to
the election of an Emperor, had drawn a protest from the Pope; but this error
had surely been more than compensated for, by the zeal which Charles had
shown for the restoration of the Pope to Rome, and for the maintenance of the
Papal authority in Italy.
It must, then, have been with a shock of painful surprise that, in 1359, Pope
Innocent VI. found himself suddenly opposed by this orthodox champion of the
Church. The first cause of division had been a demand of Charles, that the Pope
would repeal some decrees which hindered the Emperor from reforming the
discipline of the clergy. Innocent had been so indignant at this demand, that he
had tried to rouse the Electors against the Emperor; but he had wholly failed in
that attempt, and had been forced to make some concessions to Charles.
The next point of difference was connected with a yet more burning question.
Innocent had demanded new tithes from the princes of the Empire. Many of
them had refused; and now, at an Assembly at Mainz, the Papal Legate again
raised the question, possibly hoping to obtain Charles’s support. But the
Emperor answered his demand by an expression of surprise, that the Pope was
so much more zealous for collecting money than for reforming the morals of the
clergy. Then, turning suddenly to the Dean of Mainz, who was wearing a
splendid silken robe ornamented with gold, he made him exchange the
magnificent dress for the simple cloth robe which Charles himself wore; and, as
he put on the grand dress of the ecclesiastic, he appealed to the spectators to say

if he did not now look more like a knight than a dean. This practical exhibition
of clerical luxury the Emperor followed by a stern rebuke to the bishops for not
enforcing a more strict decorum of life among the clergy; and he even
threatened to tax their income for the support of the royal exchequer.
In Germany, unfortunately, there were many nobles who were ready to take
advantage of the reforming movement to promote their own ends. That the
clergy should live more simply seemed to these nobles a most desirable thing;
and to help them to attain so satisfactory a condition, they proceeded to plunder
their houses, and lay waste their lands. Such acts were utterly opposed to
Charles’s intentions; and he checked these outrages so sternly that the Pope was
once more forced to recognise him as his safest and strongest supporter. Perhaps
this last circumstance made it easier for Charles to carry out his plans for
reformation in Bohemia. In that kingdom, however, he worked by different
methods, and with somewhat different objects from those at which he had
aimed in his German schemes of reformation; for in Bohemia he trusted rather
to the moral effect which could be produced by great preachers than to
legislation or forcible repression.
The first of these preachers, whom the King summoned to Prague, was an
Austrian named Conrad Waldhauser, who began to come prominently forward
in 1360, the year after Charles’s attempt to reform the German clergy. Conrad’s
preachings were largely directed against the luxury of women; but he also
denounced the tyranny of the nobles and their usurious exactions from the
peasantry. His fiercest attacks, however, were aimed against the Mendicant
Orders, and specially against their simoniacal attempts to obtain ecclesiastical
offices. It was these attacks that brought the greatest danger to the preacher; for
the Franciscans were still strong in Papal support; and Conrad was summoned
before the Legate to answer a charge of heresy. As both King and Archbishop
stood by the accused, the attempts of his enemies were defeated; and he
continued till his death in 1369 to exercise great influence in Bohemia.
But Conrad was a German, and preached, of course, in his native language;
and Charles felt that, if the reformation were really to take hold of the people,
they must be addressed in their own language. He therefore brought forward a
preacher of a rather different type from Conrad. This was Milic of Kromĕr̆ íz̆ , a
Moravian of rather plebeian origin. He had early attracted Charles’s attention,
and had been already appointed to some office about the court in 1350. He had
risen steadily in the king’s favour, and had been raised in 1363 to one of the
chief posts in the Chancellery. An ascetic dislike to worldly honours now
induced him to resign all these offices, in order to become a preacher. He at first

retired to a living in a distant town; but, finding that the beautiful garden which
was attached to the pastor’s house gave him too much pleasure, he returned to
Prague, and began to preach at the Church of St. Nicholas in the Small District,
and afterwards at St. Giles’s in the Old Town.
At first his Moravian accent excited some ridicule; but the eloquence and
moral fervour of his preaching soon brought him large audiences; and he was at
last called on to preach three times a day in different places. His horror at the
evils of the time was so great that he soon began to prophesy the coming of
Antichrist; and, at one time, when Charles was, as he considered, falling short
of his duty, Milic even denounced the King as Antichrist. The Archbishop of
Prague became alarmed at this attack, and put Milic in prison; but Charles
himself never resented the opposition of those whom he respected; and Milic
was set free again. Like so many of the reformers of the time, he had been
greatly distressed at the retirement of the popes to Avignon; and, when Charles
was trying to persuade Pope Urban V. to return to Rome, Milic went to Rome,
and there also delivered his sermons on the coming of Antichrist. The Roman
authorities were alarmed, and Milic was again thrown into prison; but, when the
Pope actually returned to Rome, he was again set free and sent back to Prague.
He now abandoned his preaching on Antichrist, and restricted it to the
advocacy of moral reforms. The death of Conrad Waldhauser made Milic the
undisputed leader among the preachers of Prague; and, while the Teyn Church
became the chief scene of his labours, he also prepared discourses for a
preacher in another church. His most successful work was in reclaiming fallen
women. Of these he had sometimes more than three hundred under his charge,
whom he had rescued from an evil life; and he not only built a penitentiary for
their residence, but he persuaded the ladies of Prague to give them places in
their service. Charles nobly seconded his efforts by pulling down a notorious
house of ill-fame, and building a church on the site of it.
But Milic’s fierce denunciations of the sins of the clergy continued to stir up
enemies against him; and in 1374 Gregory XI., who had returned to Avignon,
sent a warning to the King and Archbishop, as well as to the Bishops of Breslau,
Cracow, and Olmütz against the danger of Milic’s teaching. He went to Avignon
to defend himself; but, though he succeeded in satisfying the Pope and cardinals
of his innocence, he never returned to Bohemia; for he was seized with an
illness while at Avignon, and died there on St. Peter’s Day, 1374.
Milic had been assisted by his humble origin in gaining the sympathies of the
poor; but even more alarming to the Germans who had gathered in Prague was

Milic’s follower Thomas of S̆ títný. He was descended from a noble family, and
had been one of the earliest pupils of the University of Prague. He was thus able
to give a more permanent literary reform to the teachings of the reformers. Nor
did he confine himself, as Conrad and Milic had done, to efforts after moral
improvement; for he grappled also with those more subtle questions of theology
which were coming at that time into prominence. Master Eckhard, the founder
of the Mystics, had been appointed at one time as Vicar-General of Bohemia.
He had no doubt gained considerable influence in that country; and S̆ títný’s
utterances, especially about Faith and Love, were coloured by the teaching of
the mystical school.
But the chief point of objection urged against S̆ títný by his enemies was that
he wrote in Bohemian. Since the time of Otto of Brandenburg, the German
language had gained much ground in the town councils of Bohemia; and the
foundation of the Prague University had brought a rush of German scholars to
that city. The arrangements for the votings of the Nations had secured a
predominance to the German element in the University; for not only did the
Bavarian and Saxon nations represent almost exclusively the German influence;
but even in the districts from which the Polish nation was drawn, there was a
large German admixture. Of course those students who had come from a great
distance had given a special proof of their genuine interest in learning; and they
naturally looked upon themselves as the representatives of a higher culture than
that of the ordinary townsfolk of Prague. Hence it came that the leading doctors
of the University inclined to consider German rather than Bohemian as the
suitable language for men of culture, especially when writing on abstruse
subjects; and this feeling they were all the more anxious to assert, because, in
the general stir of thought, a native Bohemian literature was beginning to attract
attention.
Charles himself had studied the language carefully, had favoured the revival
of the Slavonic ritual, and, as already mentioned, had chosen Milic of Kromĕr̆ íz̆
in order to encourage the popular preaching of Bohemian. Under these
circumstances, satirists, poets, and historians began to write in their native
language; and the Masters of the University felt that they would have a hard
struggle before they could denationalise Bohemia. They were therefore
especially irritated when a cultivated nobleman like S̆ títný insisted on
discussing the most profound and subtle questions of theology in the Bohemian
language; and this alarm was certainly not diminished when they found that he
coupled these speculations with denunciations of the corruptions of the clergy,
the tyrannies of nobles, and even the injustices of kings. Thus, then, a general

movement for the reform of morals and the improvement of the clergy was
more and more connecting itself with the struggles between German and
Bohemian for the supremacy of their respective languages. It is conceivable that
even so bitter a controversy as this might have been guided into more peaceable
channels by a king who combined zeal for the Church, hearty appreciation of
German learning, and a real enthusiasm for Bohemian traditions. But whether or
not Charles would have been equal to such a task, there can be little doubt that
his death in 1378, and the accession of his son Wenceslaus IV., did prepare the
way for the more violent explosion which followed.
A great name is, in any case, a very dangerous inheritance; and when that
inheritance implies an obligation on the heir to carry out a great work begun by
his predecessor, the tradition generally involves failure and disgrace. In
Wenceslaus, as in so many sons of great rulers, some of the qualities which had
secured his father’s success were conspicuously wanting. Charles had known
when to insist, and when to abstain from insisting, on the reforms which he had
most at heart. He had known how far to go in the punishment of offences, and
when to pardon graciously; above all, he had known how to respect, and even to
utilise, the abilities of honest opponents. None of these lessons of statesmanship
could Wenceslaus ever learn; he was absolutely without self-restraint or sense
of proportion; and, consequently, though his aims were generally those of a
wise and patriotic ruler, he frequently used the methods of a cruel tyrant.
Yet, with all these grave defects, Wenceslaus was far from being the
unscrupulous and self-indulgent monster which his enemies delighted to paint
him. In the early years of his reign his policy was wise and enlightened, though,
even then, it was marked occasionally by that hastiness and uncertainty which
belonged to his passionate temperament. But, in the difficult position in which
he was placed, every step which he took was a dangerous one, and was certain
to encounter fierce opposition.
The first work which his Imperial position imposed on him was the effort to
restore order in the Church, by putting an end to the divisions between the rival
Popes. In this point he wisely followed the policy of his father, and supported
the claims of Pope Urban VI., who was actually living at Rome. The assembly
of German princes accepted the decision of the Emperor; and at Prague he
received the support both of the University and the Archbishop. But a difficulty
at once arose. The Pope of Avignon was, as a matter of course, supported by the
King of France; and the old traditions of the House of Luxemburg were in
favour of friendly relations with the French kings. Greatly, therefore, to Urban’s
indignation, Wenceslaus insisted on renewing his alliance with Charles in the

next year to that in which he had recognised Urban as pope; he also refused to
support that Pope in his quarrels with the House of Anjou for the possession of
Sicily; and an even more vital cause of difference between Urban and
Wenceslaus was the determination of the King to assert his authority over the
clergy of Bohemia.
It was in these quarrels with his clergy that Wenceslaus first showed that
tendency to violent methods, which undermined his own power and inflicted
great injury on the cause of Church reformation. In 1385 he was involved in a
quarrel with the Dean of Breslau. It appeared that a cask of beer sent to the dean
by his brother had been intercepted by the Town Council, on the ground that no
foreign beer should be admitted into the town. The dean, therefore, laid an
interdict upon Breslau. Wenceslaus came to inquire into the matter, and
demanded that the religious services should be celebrated, as long at least as he
stayed in the town. The dean refused; and thereupon Wenceslaus banished the
whole Chapter of Breslau from the town for two years, and handed over a large
part of their property to the citizens.
But the most dangerous of his clerical enemies was the Archbishop of
Prague, John of Jenstein. The Archbishop, himself of noble birth, had had a
quarrel with the Marshal of the Court about certain rights of fishing on the Elbe;
and, in asserting these rights, he had destroyed a weir which the marshal had
made. Wenceslaus took the side of his official, and demanded that the
Archbishop should make compensation. Jenstein refused; and Wenceslaus
thereupon confiscated his property. But these acts, however arbitrary, might
possibly have been forgotten, had they not been followed by a more celebrated
quarrel.
In the year 1393 the Vice Chamberlain, who was the chief judge of the royal
law-court, had put to death two priests. It is uncertain what their offences were;
but the Archbishop claimed them as under his jurisdiction, and asserted that
they should only have been tried in his court. About the same time, the
Archbishop had wished to seize and punish certain Jews, who, after being
baptised as Christians, had relapsed into Judaism. As the Jews were under the
special protection of the King’s court, the Vice Chamberlain refused to
surrender them to the Archbishop. For these two acts of opposition to his power,
the Archbishop excommunicated the Vice Chamberlain, and denounced him as
a heretic. The King received this news with great indignation; and his anger was
still further quickened by a more personal insult. Not long before this time, he
had recommended a special favourite to a bishopric in Pomerania; but, as the
rulers of Pomerania had resisted the appointment, Wenceslaus had been unable

to establish his claim. He was therefore resolved to endow a new bishopric in
Bohemia, to which his nominee could be appointed; and the death of the abbot
of a monastery in Prague suggested to the King the advisability of suppressing
the monastery in order to obtain funds for the endowment of his new bishopric.
The Archbishop opposed the creation of this bishopric as a diminution of his
own diocese; and he may very likely have considered the suppression of the
monastery as an act of injustice. In defiance, therefore, of the King’s order, the
Archbishop directed the monks to proceed to the election of a new abbot, which
they accordingly did. Wenceslaus hastened back to Prague in great indignation;
and the Archbishop fled to the Castle of Raudnice. The King claimed this as a
royal castle; and he therefore considered the Archbishop’s flight thither as
conclusive proof of an organised conspiracy against the royal authority. Finding
that Jenstein would not return to Prague, the king summoned before him the two
chief officials of the archbishopric, Puchnic, and John Nepomuc. When they
persistently refused to give any evidence against the Archbishop, Wenceslaus
ordered them to be tortured. As they continued to defy him, he had them burnt
on the hand; and, at last, fixing upon Nepomuc, either as the most defiant or the
most important of his victims, he ordered him to be bound hand and foot, and
thrown into the Moldau.
This crime was to produce even greater triumphs for the clerical party than
those which had followed the murder of Becket; and Wenceslaus seems to have
repented of it almost as soon as it was committed. He set Puchnic free, and gave
him money compensation for his sufferings; and he recalled Jenstein to Prague.
The Archbishop came; a sort of reconciliation was patched up, but its unreality
was evident from the first. Jenstein secretly fled to Rome and demanded that the
Pope should lay an interdict on Bohemia. At the same time all the clergy
appealed to Sigismund, King of Hungary, the brother of Wenceslaus, to come to
Bohemia to avenge their wrongs. Strange to say, this second appeal was the
only one which produced a result. The new pope, Boniface IX., was eager to
obtain the support of Wenceslaus, and therefore took his part against the
Archbishop. Sigismund, on the contrary, was always ready to plot against his
brother; and he easily found allies among the Bohemian nobility.
For, though the offences of Wenceslaus against the clergy had attracted the
most attention, his injuries to the secular nobles had been not less keenly felt. In
his desire to weaken the more powerful members of the aristocracy, he had
formed a private Council among the small nobility and citizens; and, by their
help, he had opposed and counteracted the greater nobles. He had further
offended their sense of dignity and decorum by playing the part of Haroun

Alraschid, and paying secret visits to the houses of his various subjects, to
discover any offences which might have escaped the notice of the ordinary
tribunals. This conduct had made him so unpopular with the nobles that, even
before Sigismund’s intervention, they had formed a conspiracy against him. The
ostensible leader of this conspiracy was the king’s cousin Jodok, the Margrave
of Moravia; but perhaps its most powerful member was Henry of Rosenberg.
This nobleman, like so many of his time, was a distinguished patron of
literature and art; though his influence in such a movement was no doubt due to
the more material considerations of his high rank, wide connections, and large
territorial influence.

KRUMOV, ONE OF THE CHIEF SEATS OF THE
ROSENBERGS.

The Rosenbergs were the members of a very powerful group of families
called the Vítkovici, who were the practical rulers of the south and south-east of
Bohemia. There they exercised an authority which was little short of regal. They
had bodies of soldiers at their command; they coined money and built fortresses
at their pleasure. They professed to trace their origin to the Italian family of the
Orsini; and they had played almost as important a part in the thirteenth century
as the Vrs̆ ovici had played in the earlier history of Bohemia. Of these Vítkovici
the Rosenbergs were the most important branch; and their name shows that they
had to a large extent Germanised themselves, even in the time of Ottakar. They
had strengthened their position in Bohemia by founding towns and monasteries,
planting woods, and building churches; and their fishponds became so
important that the town of Prague was mainly supplied from them. So deeply-
rooted was their power that the signs of its past greatness are visible even at the
present day, in the towns of Krumov, Tr̆ ebon̆ , Prachatice, the monastery of
Hohenfurt, and the castle and village of Rosenberg. It will easily be understood
that the leader of so powerful a clan would deeply resent such attempts as those
of Wenceslaus to infringe the privileges of the nobility, and to call men of lower
rank to his Councils. Nor did the nobles rely solely on Bohemian support. Jodok
of Moravia had taken counsel with the Duke of Austria and the Margrave of

Meissen, who were always ready for any opportunity of weakening the
Bohemian kingdom. Such a combination as this would have been dangerous
even to Charles; and Wenceslaus was quite unable to stand against it.
The rebels were quickly ready for action; and in the year 1394, as Wenceslaus
was on his way to Prague, he was seized by Jodok and his followers, and
imprisoned in the Castle of Prague. The demands of the insurgent nobles were
now formulated. They insisted that Wenceslaus should leave them in possession
of all the fortresses that had been pledged to them, and that he should appoint
Jodok as his Viceroy in Bohemia. Duke John of Görlitz, the youngest brother of
Wenceslaus, hastened to the rescue of the king; and, though Jodok succeeded in
carrying off his prisoner to Austria, John was welcomed by the citizens of
Prague, who swore to recognise him as the administrator of the country till the
King should once more be at liberty to act.
In the meantime the princes of the Empire had become indignant at the
treatment of their Emperor; and they persuaded the Duke of Austria to set him
free. Wenceslaus returned, embittered and suspicious, to his kingdom; and his
brother John soon found that the position of liberator and peacemaker was a
very difficult one. The rebel nobles had fled to Austria, whence they made raids
upon their native country; John attempted to make peace between the king and
the insurgents; but, when Wenceslaus found that John had mistaken the extent
of the powers entrusted to him by the rebels, he accused his brother of deceiving
him, and deprived him of his vice-royalty. Many of the citizens of Prague had
become attached to John, and they remonstrated against his deposition.
Thereupon Wenceslaus deposed all the members of the Town Council,
appointed a new Council in their place, and then went through the town,
accompanied by an executioner, who cut off the heads of the King’s leading
opponents at the doors of their houses. In his discontent with John, Wenceslaus
now appealed to his brother Sigismund. Sigismund came, and John soon after
died, not without suspicion of poison. Sigismund at once persuaded Wenceslaus
to recognise him as his heir if he should die without sons, to appoint a Council
of the nobles, and to promise not to introduce any changes in the government
without the consent of that Council.
The hollowness of the peace which followed was very quickly seen. When
Jodok came to see the king at Carlstein in the same year, Wenceslaus was so
carried away by the recollection of his cousin’s insults, that he had him arrested
and imprisoned. Then, suddenly remembering the treaty of peace, he set him
free again. But Jodok thought more of his imprisonment than of his liberation;

and, though nominally reconciled, the King and the Margrave remained
enemies throughout life.
The Bohemian quarrels had, in the meantime, given opportunity for the
intrigues of Wenceslaus’s rivals in the Empire. That jealousy which the Electors
always felt of the concentration of the Imperial power in any one family, had
been for some time directed against the House of Luxemburg. Charles’s
extension of Bohemian territory, by the addition of German lands, had caused
much suspicion and dislike. But his combination of vigour and self-restraint,
and his complete hold over his Bohemian subjects, had prevented the intriguers
from making any head during his lifetime. Now, however, the quarrels of
Wenceslaus with his subjects had given a double opportunity to his German
opponents; for while, on the one hand, they could point to his long detention in
Bohemia as a proof of his indifference to Imperial affairs, on the other hand, the
disaffection of his Bohemian subjects supplied a hopeful weapon for
undermining his power.
His two leading enemies were Rupert, Count Palatine of the Rhine, who
aimed at the Imperial dignity, and the Archbishop of Mainz, who had secured
his see by a promise to support the intrigues of Rupert. These conspirators
succeeded in winning to their side Pope Boniface IX. This Pope had indeed
been at first friendly to Wenceslaus; but he had been offended by the readiness
with which the King of Bohemia had listened to the French proposals for the
election of a new Pope in place of the two rival claimants to the Holy See.
Under various pretexts, the Duke of Saxony and the Archbishops of Trier and
Köln were drawn into the conspiracy; and so, in February, 1400, the Electors
met at Frankfort and resolved to choose a new Emperor.
The most plausible grounds for this deposition were mainly of a negative
kind. Wenceslaus was charged with failing to procure a peaceful settlement of
the affairs of the Church, and with paying no heed to those wars which were
disturbing the Empire. Though Wenceslaus might have found ample excuse for
these failures, he could not directly deny them; but the other charges were either
false or grossly exaggerated. One of them, however, must be quoted, since it has
so much bearing on the troubles which were approaching in the Bohemian
kingdom. This was a charge that he “had drowned, burnt, and otherwise
murdered and tortured reverend prelates and priests.” This accusation shows
that the murder of Nepomuc was to be represented, at the pleasure of
Wenceslaus’s enemies, either as part of a general massacre of priests, or as the
cruel execution of one specially righteous man.

It was, therefore, as the champion of Holy Church against its oppressor, that
Rupert was chosen Holy Roman Emperor. In this character he at once marched
into Bohemia and won the support of Jodok and the discontented nobles. Again
Wenceslaus was forced to make terms with his enemies; and again Sigismund
was called in and appointed Viceroy. But Sigismund gained favour with no
party. Jodok and his friends resented the power entrusted to him; the citizens of
Bohemia complained of the heavy taxes which he laid upon them; and
Wenceslaus resisted his proposal that he should counteract the schemes of
Rupert by accompanying Sigismund to Rome, and by accepting the Imperial
crown from the Pope. Finding his plans thwarted, Sigismund suddenly seized
upon his brother, and carried him off as prisoner to Vienna. From this
imprisonment Wenceslaus succeeded in escaping in 1403; and, on his return to
Prague, he was welcomed as the liberator of Bohemia from Sigismund.
In the meantime the reform movement had been approaching a crisis. The
teacher who, after the death of Milic, had gained most influence in the country,
was a Bohemian nobleman named Matthias of Janov. He had not devoted
himself so exclusively as Conrad and Milic had done to the denunciation of
moral abuses, but had also attacked practices like the worship of images and
saints; and he had been the first to bring before the public the question which
was afterwards to be so interesting to Bohemians, the granting of the cup to the
laity in the Holy Communion. But though this latter fact gives Matthias a kind
of historic interest, he seems to have been in the main a source of weakness to
the cause which he defended. Never wholly disinterested in his objects, he soon
flinched from the attacks of the rulers of the Church; and in 1389 he formally
recanted his reforming doctrines.

VILLAGE OF HUSINEC.

Along with the movement for ecclesiastical reform, the Bohemian national
revival had been steadily making way; and the opposition of the German party
had served to deepen the zeal of the reformers for the encouragement of the
Bohemian languages. A most important link was formed in 1396 between the
linguistic and the moral revival. In that year a man named John of Milheim
founded a chapel which was to be entirely devoted to Bohemian preaching, in
order, as its founder expressed it, “that the Word of God should not be fettered,
and that Bohemian preachers should not be obliged to go from house to house.”
The new foundation was to be called the Bethlehem Chapel, and was to be
consecrated to the Holy Innocents. Strange to say, the first three preachers seem
to have been somewhat hesitating and uncertain in their tendencies; and it was
not till 1402 that the appointment of Jan Hus secured to the Bethlehem Chapel a
special position in the history of Bohemia.

HUSINEC, SHOWING COTTAGE WHERE HUS WAS BORN.

On July 6, 1369, Jan Hus was born at Husinec, in the south of Bohemia. This
village lies in a deep valley among pine-covered hills, and the tiny cottage in
which Hus was born still remains. As his parents were poor, he was forced to
support himself in his early days by singing in churches; and even after he had
been sent to the University he was in such straits that he was at one time
compelled to live on dry bread. Nevertheless he made steady way in the
University; two years after taking his degree of Master of Arts, he was
appointed examiner; in 1401 he was elected Dean of the Faculty of Arts, and in
1403 he was chosen Rector of the University. He had thrown himself from the
first into the national cause; and he denounced, from his pulpit in the Bethlehem
Chapel, the expedition of the rebel nobles against Prague. He showed great zeal
in giving new literary expression to the Bohemian language, and expunged from

it the Germanisms which had crept into it. He also persistently opposed the
encroachments of the Germans in the government of the University. At the same
time he always declared that he would prefer a good German to a bad
Bohemian, even if the latter were his brother.
It was in this same year, 1403, that the national reform movement began to
connect itself generally with questions of ritual and doctrine. The exact point in
history at which the doctrines of Wyclif gained influence in Bohemia, is very
difficult to fix. The marriage of Anna, the sister of Wenceslaus, in 1381, to
Richard II. of England, undoubtedly produced close contact between the two
countries. It is clear, from his own statements, that Wyclif was much impressed
by the forwardness of the Bohemians in religious knowledge, and specially by
the fact that they had already translated the Bible into their native tongue. But,
although this experience much affected the work of the English Reformer, it
seems doubtful how soon he began to repay the debt, by imparting his ideas to
Bohemia. Apparently, neither Matthias of Janov nor Thomas of S̆ títný were
deeply acquainted with Wyclif’s works; and neither his condemnation in 1382
nor his death in 1385 seem to have excited much interest in Bohemia. Yet, on
the other hand, it is evident, from the scene which is about to be described, that
both Hus and some of his followers must have given considerable attention to
Wyclif’s writings.
It was, however, the enemies of the English Reformer who first publicly
called the attention of the Bohemians to his works. A German Silesian, named
Hubner, had selected from Wyclif’s writings forty-five propositions which he
asked the University of Prague to condemn. The period of Hus’s Rectorship
seems to have come to an end before this proposal was made; and on May 28,
1403, the new Rector of the University convoked an assembly of the Masters of
Arts, and laid before them the propositions which Hubner had compiled. Hus at
once came forward to answer Hubner, but he based his opposition entirely on
the inaccuracy of the summaries laid before them. He referred to the burning
alive of certain adulterators of saffron, which had recently taken place in
Prague; and he declared that such a fate was better deserved by these
adulterators of books. But some of his followers went much further. Stephen
Pálec̆ threw a book of Wyclif’s on the table, declaring that he was willing to
defend it against all attacks; and Stanislaus of Znaym (Znojem) offered to prove
that none of the articles attributed to Wyclif were heretical. This statement so
offended some of the older Masters that they at once left the room; but, in spite
of their retirement, a majority of those who remained condemned the forty-five
Articles of Wyclif, and decided that they should not be taught in Bohemia. The

influence of Wenceslaus was, for the moment, thrown on the side of reform;
and, after the death of the Archbishop of Prague, he appointed to the see an ex-
soldier named Zbynĕk Zajíc, who had a great dislike to many of the impostures
which had been encouraged by the clergy. The new Archbishop at once sent Hus
to inquire into several fictitious miracles which had recently become notorious
in the country; and, by his help, these abuses were checked for the time.

JAN HUS.

But, while Hus was zealous against every form of moral corruption, he had
by no means committed himself to those doctrines for which Wyclif had been
branded as a heretic. At the same time he had read and studied many of the
purely philosophical works of the English Reformer; and he expressed his belief
that much good was to be learned from them. With the Englishman’s hatred of
moral corruption Hus sympathised yet more warmly; while the national
character of the two movements naturally roused a sympathy between their
respective supporters. The revival of the English language, as a literary
expression of thought, had received considerable impulse from Wyclif’s
translation of the Bible; and the use of English, rather than Latin or Norman-
French, in theological writings became one of the notes of the Lollard
movement. In this tendency Hus could not fail to observe the likeness to his

own efforts to maintain the Bohemian language against the inroads of the
Germans.
All these considerations produced in Hus so strong a personal admiration for
Wyclif that he expressed a wish that his soul might be with his. The
combination of such a wish with the rejection of many of Wyclif’s doctrines as
heretical, was utterly unintelligible to most of the contemporaries of Hus. This
pious expression of moral sympathy was naturally connected by many with the
attacks which Stanislaus of Znojem was at the same time making on the
doctrine of Transubstantiation; and, consequently, the rashness of Hus’s
followers, coupled with his own expressions of personal feeling, caused him to
be branded as a heretic, with regard to doctrines about which he held the
orthodox belief.
But the opposition to the reform movement could not long be confined to the
masters of the University of Prague. In 1405 Pope Innocent VII. became
alarmed at the progress of heresy, and issued a Bull against the doctrines of
Wyclif. In deference to this denunciation, Wenceslaus ordered an inquiry into
these doctrines; and Archbishop Zbynĕk became even more excited on the
subject. On May 14, 1408, even the Bohemian nation in the University
consented to hold a meeting for the examination of Wyclif’s books; but they
could only be induced to come to the harmless conclusion that the Articles of
Wyclif should not be taught in any heretical sense, and that his Dialogus and
Trialogus should not be studied by members of the University before they had
taken their degree. Such a decision could not satisfy the Archbishop; and, in
June, 1408, he issued a new decree forbidding the clergy to preach against
Transubstantiation. This decree was soon followed by a demand that all who
possessed copies of Wyclif’s books should surrender them to the Archbishop;
and the majority of the University obeyed this command, only five students
refusing.
Hus had openly expressed his dislike of some of the prosecutions, by which
the Archbishop attempted to enforce some of his prohibitions; and such a
protest from so prominent a reformer could not be allowed to pass unnoticed at
such a crisis. So, early in 1408, the clergy of Prague presented to the archbishop
certain articles against Hus. Most of these are concerned with his denunciations
of the pecuniary greed of the clergy; but they also include a reference to his
wish that his soul might be with Wyclif. For the moment, indeed, these
complaints produced little result; for just at this time Archbishop Zajíc himself
announced that, after inquiry, he could find no heresy in Bohemia. Moreover, it

was unavoidable that this smaller controversy should be lost sight of, for a time,
in the apparently larger issue of the reunion of Christendom under one Pope.
The division of the Papacy between Rome and Avignon had begun to cause
such a scandal in the Church that a new Council was held necessary for the
restoration of order and unity. Wenceslaus saw in the meeting of this Council an
opportunity for recovering the position of which he had been deprived. He had
never admitted the legality of his deposition from the Imperial throne; and,
since only a part of the Electors had sanctioned that step, he had plausible
grounds for disputing its validity. When, then, the Council of Pisa proposed to
deal with the Papal Schism, Wenceslaus consented to send ambassadors to that
Council, on condition that they should be recognised as the representatives of
the Holy Roman Emperor. To secure the consent of the Council to this proposal,
Wenceslaus readily accepted the decision of that body, that, as a preparatory
step to the Unity of the Church, the two rival Popes should be required to
resign; and he forbade his subjects to recognise the authority of either Gregory
XII. or his rival till the Council should have decided on their claims. This
demand at once produced a new line of division between the contending parties
in the Bohemian Church. Hus and his friends had welcomed the Council of
Pisa, as a possible means of accomplishing the reforms which they desired; and
they made no difficulty about approving the deposition of the two Popes. The
Archbishop, however, and the great body of the Bohemian clergy, maintained
that they were bound by their allegiance to Gregory XII.; and in this view the
three foreign “Nations” in the University eagerly supported them.
This division of opinion at once brought to a head that desire for reasserting
their national independence which the Bohemians had so long cherished. The
dislike of being swamped in their own capital by foreigners had been steadily
growing in the minds of the Bohemians. This feeling had been at first expressed
in complaints about the rise of prices and the overcrowding of the city; but it
had gained a much greater intensity when the native population realised that the
supremacy of their language in their own country was at stake. The resistance of
the Germans to the demands of Wenceslaus enabled the Reformers to join their
movement for national independence with the assertion of the royal authority;
and, as a means of accomplishing both these ends, they proposed that the
Bohemian Nation should in future have three votes in the election of University
officials, while each of the three foreign “Nations” should be still limited to one
vote. Wenceslaus had already made some concessions to the national party in
the University; and they naturally thought that he would at once approve of a

concession which would tend to strengthen his hands in his struggle against
Gregory XII.
To their great surprise, however, they at first met with a rebuff. Wenceslaus
was desirous of recovering his position as Emperor; and for that he needed
German support. He also wished to appear as the orthodox champion of the
Church; and a recent event had brought home to him the danger into which the
Bohemian Reformers were running, in this respect. Stephen Pálec̆ and
Stanislaus of Znojem had been sent as commissioners to the Council of Pisa; on
their way thither they had been arrested at Bologna and imprisoned as heretics.
This so alarmed the king, that when the Bohemian Deputation waited on him at
Kutna Hora, he not only rejected their proposals, but sharply rebuked Hus and
his friends for bringing discredit on the nation by tainting them with heresy.
Consistency of purpose, however, was never one of the virtues of
Wenceslaus. A Bohemian nobleman of the name of Lobkovic had considerable
influence with the king; and he was a strong champion of Hus and his party. He
pointed out to Wenceslaus that those who proposed this reform at the University
were the supporters of the king’s policy in the Council of Pisa. Queen Sophia,
with whom Hus had already become a favourite, no doubt used her influence in
the same direction. The king was convinced that his interests were, for the time,
on the side of the Reformers; and, in January, 1409, he issued the desired decree
which granted three votes to the Bohemian Nation in University elections.
But the powerful German party did not yield without a struggle. They
pleaded that their oaths as Masters of Arts bound them to maintain the
settlement made by Charles IV.; and they pointed out that that Emperor had
intended to make his University the centre of all the learning of the Empire.
Finally they suggested that, if the Bohemian Nation objected to be swamped by
them, it ought to separate from them and have a council, tribunal, and elections
of its own.
Of these arguments, the first may be fairly dismissed as one of those pieces of
ill-tempered rhetoric which are usually thrust forward on such occasions. If an
oath to maintain the laws of an association implies an opposition to any possible
change in those laws, there can be few corporations in the world which are not
deeply tainted with perjury. But the second argument, which appealed to the
wishes and intentions of Charles IV., had undoubtedly some plausibility,
especially when one considers that the University was only sixty years old. An
answer to this objection could, however, be easily found by the Bohemians.
Though Charles IV. had no doubt desired to make the University the centre of

the Empire, other words of his could be quoted to show that he had also
intended that his Foundation should secure special advantages to the
Bohemians.
The explanation was, that Charles’s idea, however grand, was self-
contradictory; and, while inconsistent schemes may work very well, as long as
all who are interested in them wish them to do so, they must fall to pieces at
once if they are administered by two antagonistic parties with directly opposite
ideals about the welfare of the institution. Charles had undoubtedly wished, as
the Germans said, to make Prague an intellectual centre for Europe; he had also
desired, as the Bohemians said, to call out the national life and encourage the
national literature of Bohemia. It now appeared that these two objects were
incompatible; and the question was, which must yield to the other. Charles IV.
was a great statesman; but, as in the case of so many great men, the effect which
he ultimately produced was precisely the contrary of that which he desired. He
had wished to found a University, which should gratify the feelings both of
Bohemians and Germans, and be a centre of unity and peace to the Empire. He
had, instead, given an impulse to life, movement, and struggle, which was to
overthrow many abuses which he condemned, but also to drag down in their fall
much which he desired to maintain.
Finding that their arguments were of no avail, the Germans devoted
themselves to more practical forms of obstruction. They insisted on
disregarding the decree of the King and on voting in the old fashion at the next
election of the Examiners. The Bohemians resisted this attempt; and the
consequence was that no examination took place. A similar dispute arose about
the election of the Deans of Faculties; and a similar result followed. It was
obvious that the continuance of this struggle must end in the destruction of the
work of the University. Moreover, whatever doubts Wenceslaus might have on
other subjects, he was quite clear about the duty of enforcing his own decrees.
So, on May 9, 1409, he summoned an extraordinary meeting of the University,
at which he appointed a new Rector and a new Dean of Arts on his own
authority. The Germans, finding further resistance hopeless, resolved to
abandon the struggle; and, on May 16th, several thousand German students left
Prague for ever.

VIII.
FROM THE RETIREMENT OF THE GERMANS FROM THE
UNIVERSITY OF PRAGUE TO THE DEATH OF HUS.
(1409-1415.)

The overthrow of German supremacy in the Bohemian University has been
considered by both sides to mark a great crisis in the history of Bohemia. The
national character, which had been stamped at so early a time on the reforming
movement, now became more visible to the world at large, and at the same time
more exclusive and defiant. Nor was its effect on the life and death of Hus less
notable. When he became recognised as the most complete embodiment of the
principles of the Bohemian Reformation, his German enemies naturally fixed
upon him as the chief actor in this important stage of the movement; and wild
charges of violence and intimidation towards the Germans helped to increase
the hostility which had been roused by the suspicion of heresy.
Nevertheless, it seems clear enough that, though Hus ultimately rejoiced in
the change produced by the German secession, he had yet taken but a secondary
and hesitating part in producing the change itself. On returning from Kuttenberg
(Kutna Hora), after Wenceslaus’s first rejection of this proposal, Hus,
disappointed and anxious, was seized with illness; and, while worn with
suffering, he asked a friend whether, after all, the change was a just one. This
appeal has been quoted by a modern writer as a proof of the duplicity of Hus;
and the same antagonist has scornfully contrasted this anxious hesitation with
the exulting approval of the change which Hus proclaimed at a later time.
To those who try to weigh both sides of a question, it may not seem so
difficult to understand that Hus may have heartily desired, and exulted in, the
victory of the reforming party and the freedom of the Bohemians from German
domination, and yet may have hesitated in his own mind, especially in sickness,
about the justice of the particular step which brought things to a crisis. The
point which rather seems to distinguish him from other men in the matter was
the candour with which he confessed those previous doubts at a place and in a
time when such a confession was certain to be used against him.
But if the charge of duplicity against Hus is founded mainly on ignorance of
human nature, the accusation of violence which was brought against the

Bohemian reformers may have been partially due to a confusion between two
contests which were taking place at the same time, and in which the same
parties were to some extent involved. For, while the Germans and Bohemians
were struggling for supremacy in the University of Prague, Wenceslaus was
devoting his energies to the punishment of the Archbishop and clergy for their
championship of Gregory XII. In this, as in every other case, Wenceslaus soon
damaged his cause by his utter want of self-restraint. Mobs were let loose upon
the clergy, many acts of violence were committed, and a general sense of
insecurity prevailed. Zbynĕk, who had plenty of that bull-dog courage which
one might expect from an ex-soldier, replied to the king’s violence by putting
Prague under an interdict. How the king might have met this defiance one may
guess from his previous conduct; but the Archbishop and his clergy were saved
from the fate of Nepomuc by a sudden change of circumstances.
The Council of Pisa had agreed to depose the two existing claimants of the
Papacy; and, after some discussion, they chose a new Pope, under the name of
Alexander V. At first, of course, this Pope was not very favourably inclined to
an Archbishop who had steadily opposed his election; but, when Zbynĕk
accepted his authority, and showed his appreciation of him by sending him rich
gifts, Alexander became alarmed at the spread of heresy in Bohemia, and
granted a commission for inquiry into the writings of Wyclif, and a permission
to Zbynĕk to remove those writings from the eyes of the faithful.
This commission gave a new opportunity to the enemies of Hus; and they
presented a petition against him to the Archbishop, in which they charged him
with sixteen acts of heresy and disorder. Some of these charges had already
been put forward on former occasions, others alleged against him heresies
which he repudiated; but there are four accusations at least that are specially
worth noting, both for their own character, and on account of the answers made
to them by Hus. The fourth charge was that in a conversation, which took place
at the time of the drowning of John Nepomuc and the arrest of the Dean of
Prague, Hus had spoken lightly of these acts, and had condemned the proposal
to put Prague under an Interdict on account of them. Hus replied to this charge
by quoting his actual words. “If,” said he, “he himself, or any other, had been
killed or imprisoned, that was no reason why men should cease to give praise to
God throughout the kingdom of Bohemia.” The fifth clause he answered by one
of those distinctions which seemed to his enemies so dishonest. Hus was
accused of saying that anti-Christ had fixed a foot in the Roman Church, which
it was difficult to move. To this charge Hus answered that he had never said this
of the Roman Church, because he considered that that Church consisted of all

those who held the faith preached by St. Peter and St. Paul at Rome; but that he
did maintain that anti-Christ had set his foot very firmly in the Roman Court
(Curia). Thirdly, he objected to two of the charges against him on the ground
that they implied his use of words which had no equivalent in the Bohemian
language, and which, therefore, he could not have used in the Bethlehem
Chapel. Lastly, in answer to the charge of having stirred up ill-will between
Bohemian and German, he denied that he had done this, unless either German
or Bohemian had taken unjust occasion from his words; and he reiterated his
statement that he loved a good German better than a bad Bohemian.
It was evident that these articles were intended to identify still more closely
the struggle of the Archbishop and clergy against secular intrusion and heretical
doctrine with the struggles of the Germans for supremacy in Bohemia. But if,
by so doing, Zbynĕk secured a stronger following in the outside world, and
bound to his cause those Germans who had remained in Bohemia, he irritated
against him still more strongly the feeling of the Bohemian nobles and of a
large number of the citizens of Prague; and he even alienated from him many of
the inferior clergy.
Another powerful influence, which was specially exerted at this time in
favour of Hus, was that of the Queen Sophia. She had been greatly impressed
by the preacher, and had taken him as her chief adviser, some say her confessor;
and, though it may be true of Wenceslaus that he hated Zbynĕk more than he
loved Hus, the reverse is true of his wife. Yet in spite of all this force of
opposition, Zbynĕk showed very little sign of yielding. He consented, indeed, to
postpone any final act until the Margrave of Moravia could be consulted. But,
whether Jodok delayed beyond the time proposed, or whether the Archbishop
simply grew tired of waiting, he resolved, on June 10, 1410, publicly to burn
two hundred of Wyclif’s books; and accordingly they were burnt in great state,
in the court of the archiepiscopal palace, the bells of the churches being tolled
during the performance.
As if to mark the man against whom this proceeding was specially aimed, the
Archbishop followed it up by commanding the closing of all private chapels, a
command understood by everybody to be intended especially against the chapel
in which Hus preached. Hus and his friends indignantly appealed to the Pope
against these proceedings; and they did not fail to point out that many of the
works which were burnt were not theological at all, but simply dealt with
abstract philosophy. Indeed, the traditions of learning and culture, which the
German scholars had hoped to secure to their side, in their first struggle against
the Bohemian language, were now appealed to by the opposite party with much

more force. Zbynĕk was ridiculed in satirical songs for having burnt books
which he had never read; and the University of Bologna, when consulted by the
Pope, denounced the burning of the books as an insult to the University of
Oxford. Zbynĕk, indeed, would have fought to the last; but Pope Alexander was
shaken by the opposition which these proceedings had called forth, and he
checked the inquiry into Wyclif’s books, and continued to delay matters, till the
decision was taken out of his hands by death.
Both parties made haste to approach the new Pope, John XXIII.; and he
demanded that Hus should come to Rome. The danger of the way made a good
excuse for refusal; and John, having received rich presents from Zbynĕk,
consented to excommunicate Hus for contumacy. This, however, did not affect
Wenceslaus’s attitude; for, irritated by Zbynĕk’s opposition, and impressed by
the queen’s partiality for Hus, the king had become a zealous champion of the
Reformers. He demanded that Zbynĕk should compensate those whose books
he had burnt; and, on his refusal, he confiscated his property for the benefit of
the owners of the books. At the same time the king and his friends wrote to the
Pope to assure him that he had been ill-informed about the circumstances of the
case. The Pope being thus politely set on one side, and riot and disorder
continuing, there seemed an opportunity for some outsider to step in.
This opportunity was eagerly seized by Sigismund. He had never formally
resigned that administrative power which Wenceslaus had granted to him in his
time of emergency; and, though he had nominally supported Wenceslaus against
Rupert in his claim to the Imperial crown, he was now intriguing to succeed the
latter and to set aside his brother. Wenceslaus, on his part, was willing enough
to listen to proposals for peace when they did not come from a clerical source;
and Zbynĕk consented to accept the arbitration proposed. But, when the
arbitrators demanded that the archbishop should write to the Pope to ask him to
repeal the excommunication of Hus, Zbynĕk refused to submit to this decision;
and he went to Presburg to appeal personally to Sigismund. There, however, he
fell ill and died; and, in a few months, the controversy had assumed quite
another form.
It will be remembered that the Council of Pisa had professed to put an end to
the disunion in the Church by deposing the two claimants of the Papacy, and
electing Alexander V. in their place. But, though Alexander V., and his
successor, John XXIII., had probably been accepted by a majority of the
authorities of the Church, the deposed Popes still, at times, put forward claims
which could easily be taken advantage of by those who wished to stir up
division in the Church. Ladislaus, the king of Naples, who had a grudge against

John, took up the cause of Gregory XII. Therefore, in December, 1411, John
proclaimed a crusade against the King of Naples, and promised plenary
indulgence to all who would support this expedition, either in purse or person.
The commissioners for promoting this war arrived in Prague in 1412; and
they soon set to work, not merely to preach the crusade, but to organise a
regular system for the sale of the indulgences. Some attempt to start this trade
had been begun in 1393, but it does not seem to have been then carried on on so
extensive a scale. Now the Legate farmed out the right of selling these
indulgences to other priests, granting them preferment in the Church, and
receiving from them a commission on what they raised. As respectable
clergymen would not often undertake such an office, the trade fell into the
hands of men of disreputable lives, who were thus brought prominently to the
front. Hus had objected, from the first, to the attempt to involve the Bohemians
in a war which he considered unchristian; and, when to the proposal for the
crusade was added the organisation of the sale of indulgences, he determined to
raise the question in an assembly of the University.
But he now found that some, who had been hitherto his followers, were
prepared to resist and oppose him. Stanislaus of Znojem and Stephen Pálec̆ had
been released from their imprisonment at Bologna, at the request of
Wenceslaus; and since their return to Prague they had gradually drifted into the
ranks of the opponents of reform. Stanislaus had been the first to show this
change. The charge of heresy on which he had been arrested had been based on
a pamphlet dealing with Wyclif’s doctrines. He pleaded that the apparent
Wyclifite tendency of the pamphlet was due to its incompleteness; and, when
ordered to finish it, he did so in a sense hostile to the doctrines of Wyclif.
It will be remembered that, though Hus had repudiated many of the doctrines
of the English Reformer, he had yet opposed the general condemnation of his
works, and had spoken warmly of his character. Therefore Stanislaus’ attack
upon Wyclif paved the way for an open opposition to Hus. Pálec̆ , indeed, had
remained on the side of his old leader during the struggle with Zbynĕk, but the
opposition to the Papal Bull drove him also into the orthodox ranks. The cry of
cowardice has been raised against him by the friends of Hus, and seems, indeed,
to have been sanctioned by Hus himself. But, unscrupulous and malignant as
Pálec̆ afterwards showed himself, it may be doubted whether the charge of
cowardice was, in this instance, a just one. It must be remembered that in his
previous opposition to Popes, Hus had protected himself by the well-recognised
formula that the Pope had been misinformed on the condition of affairs in
Bohemia. On this occasion the question at issue was not so much one of

information about special facts as of clear moral principles; and the issue of the
Bull took away all possibility of throwing the blame of the Pope’s action on
misleading advisers. Moreover, the opposition of Hus was no longer covered by
the authority of the King. Wenceslaus, having once committed himself to
opposition to Gregory, was not disposed to inquire too curiously into the
methods which were used to suppress the fallen Pope. He had therefore
sanctioned John’s Bull, and thereby approved the crusade. It may well,
therefore, have been that Pálec̆ , though willing to resist the ordinary current of
clerical opinion, might yet doubt the lawfulness and propriety of setting himself
against his spiritual and temporal rulers. At any rate, when Hus brought before
the Masters of the University his proposal to denounce the crusade and its
methods, Pálec̆ and Stanislaus headed the opposition to their former leader, and
won the majority of the Masters to their side.
But Hus was not to be silenced. He continued to preach and write against the
sale of indulgences; and he proposed to hold a discussion on the Papal Bull in
the Carolinum, a college founded for the clergy by Charles IV. He was now
compelled into a position which seems to anticipate the more advanced
Reformers of the following century; for when the new Archbishop, Albik, called
on him to obey the Apostolic commands, he answered that the Apostolic
commands were those contained in the teaching of Christ and His Apostles;
that, so far as the Pope’s commands agreed with them, he would obey them
gladly; but that, if they did not agree with them, he would not obey them, if the
fire were kindled in his presence.
Hus was now at issue with old friends, with the leaders of learning, and with
the rulers of Church and State. It was therefore with special satisfaction that he
must have hailed a new supporter who came to his aid at this crisis. This was a
young Bohemian nobleman, named Hieronymus, or Jerom. He has often been
credited with the first introduction of Wyclif’s works into Bohemia, though
some historians have thrown doubt on this claim. Whether it were so or not, he
certainly now formed a link between the reforming leaders and the fashionable
world, which did not previously exist. His easy circumstances and noble birth
gave him entrance to the Court circles of Europe; and his attractive manners,
splendid dress, and love of display gained him fame and popularity. Moreover,
he had found great delight in exciting discussions on doubtful points of
theology in the various Universities which he had visited. He began these
discussions at Heidelberg, apparently against the wish of the University
authorities. He had visited Oxford, whither a reputation for heresy had preceded
him; and he had specially provoked the opposition of Gerson, the Chancellor of

the Paris University, by the controversies which he had inaugurated in that
famous centre of learning. He now plunged boldly into the dispute about the
sale of indulgences. His brilliant and polished oratory threw into shade for the
time the simpler eloquence of Hus. He was followed home, on one occasion, by
a large crowd of students; and the reforming movement began to attract the
sympathies of the younger nobles.
But it soon became evident that the new converts would bring more zeal than
dignity to the camp of the reformers. The forms of ridicule of the clerical party
indulged in by these fiery spirits can scarcely have been welcome to the soberer
reformers who had been first drawn to the teaching of Hus. Thus, for instance, a
procession was organised, which marched through the streets of Prague, and in
which the chief figure was a student, who was dressed as a woman of ill-fame,
wearing round her neck an imitation of the Papal Bulls. Such demonstrations as
these, when accompanied by satirical songs, naturally led to disorder and riot.
Wenceslaus, who was divided in feeling between his friendliness to Hus and his
desire to enforce his own decrees, tried in vain to effect a compromise between
the contending parties, and, finding reconciliation or even partial restraint
impossible, he forbad the reformers to offer any further opposition to the sale of
indulgences.
This decree at once called out the sterner and nobler side of the reforming
spirit. In spite of the king’s prohibition, three young men came to the church
where the champions of the indulgences were preaching, and made a public
protest against the preacher’s words. The intruders were promptly secured by
the officials of the town council, and were at once taken to the Great Ring. A
large crowd gathered to see what was intended, and Hus came forward to
remind the councillors that he was the first promoter of the opposition to the
indulgences, and that they ought therefore to punish him before they punished
these young men. The Councillors gave an answer which seemed to imply that
the prisoners should not be injured; but no sooner had the crowd dispersed than
the youths were taken into a side street and summarily executed.
Great excitement followed this treachery; and numbers of people paraded the
streets declaring their readiness to die for the truth. Hus, from his pulpit, praised
the young men who had been executed, and exhorted his hearers to stand by the
truth.
Another opponent now came forward to give new impulse to the attacks on
Hus. This was a German priest of questionable antecedents, called Michael de
Causis. He drew up a list of articles against the reformer, which revived, more

definitely, the charge of sympathising with Wyclif’s doctrine, both as to the
Sacraments, and the interference of secular authorities with the property of the
clergy. With these charges Michael now combined the accusation of stirring up
the people against the bishops, and making ill-feeling in the University. Pope
John, already indignant at the opposition to his Bull, was roused by these
charges to more decided action. He excommunicated Hus, and laid an Interdict
on Prague. Several Germans tried to give practical force to this sentence by
rushing armed into the Bethlehem chapel, and attempting to kill Hus; but his
friends rallied round him, and the assassins were forced to retire.

THE GREAT RING OF PRAGUE. SCENE OF MURDER OF THE
OPPONENTS OF THE INDULGENCE.

During all this time Wenceslaus seems to have shown towards Hus a
forbearance such as he hardly ever exhibited towards others who crossed his
path. Doubtless one must trace in this conduct the influence of the queen; but, to
whatever cause it was due, it did not fail to affect the feelings of Hus. He was
shocked at the amount of disorder and bitterness prevailing in Prague; and he
was grieved to think that he was, to some extent, the cause of it. The desire for
peace and concession which these considerations produced was naturally
quickened by personal gratitude to the King; and he now consented to leave
Prague for a time, and to retire to Austi, where he remained under the protection
of a powerful noble.
It was during this retirement that he composed the book “De Ecclesia,” which
was to cost him so dear. In this he declared, more distinctly than before, his
disbelief in the necessity of the Pope and Cardinals as a part of the constitution
of the Church, and his belief in the essential equality of all Orders of the clergy.
But his retirement from Prague brought no cessation to the fierceness of the
controversy. Jakaubek of Kladrau, who now took the lead among the friends of
Hus, demanded a reformation of the lives of the clergy, and declared that no
peace could be made till these were amended. Wenceslaus once more stepped in
as peacemaker. He appointed a commission of four, to which the representatives
of the opposite parties were to present their different statements for
consideration and arbitration. Stanislaus and his friends drew up an address, in
which they spoke of the Church, “whose head is the Pope, and whose body is
the Cardinals.” For this Jakaubek and his friends proposed to substitute the
words, “whose head is Jesus Christ our Saviour, and His representative is the
Pope.” When, however, the opposite parties came before the arbitrators,
Stanislaus, Pálec̆ , and their friends refused to submit to the order of discussion
suggested by the commissioners; whereupon Wenceslaus cut short the
proceedings by banishing from Bohemia Stanislaus, Pálec̆ , and two of their
friends, as disturbers of the peace.
In the meantime Hus had been vexed with scruples of conscience, as to
whether he had violated his duty in consenting to leave Prague, and to abandon
his pulpit at the order of the King; and, after vainly endeavouring to satisfy
himself by a comparison of quotations from St. Augustine and others, he at last
came back to Prague, though he could not at once make up his mind so far to
defy the king as to return to his pulpit in the Bethlehem Chapel. While he was in
this hesitating state, the crisis arrived which was to solve his difficulties for him,

and give him the longed-for opportunity of vindicating his teaching before the
world, without directly defying the King of Bohemia.
In August, 1414, Sigismund once more arrived in Prague. He had contrived,
on the death of Count Rupert, to get himself elected Holy Roman Emperor, but
had afterwards reconciled Wenceslaus to this arrangement, by promising to
recognise the latter as Emperor, during his life, if Wenceslaus would allow him
to retain the name of King of the Romans, which implied heirship to the
Empire. This promise seems to have been very ill-kept; but probably
Wenceslaus was too busy with his Bohemian troubles to care to enforce a claim
which had formerly proved so irksome to him. At the period at which we have
arrived, he was contented to leave both the dignity and power to his brother.
Circumstances now afforded a splendid opening for the display of both. The
quarrel between John and Ladislaus, after being patched up by a temporary
peace, had broken out again so fiercely that John had been forced to fly from
Rome, and to take refuge in Bologna. From thence he appealed to Sigismund to
call a new Council for the settlement of the troubles of the Church, and the final
suppression of the schism in the papacy; and he consented that it should be held
in the free, Imperial town of Constance. Hus also saw his opportunity in this
Council, and he appealed to Sigismund to secure him a public hearing before it.
Sigismund readily consented, and promised also to give a safe-conduct for the
purpose. Before starting, however, Hus secured from the new Archbishop,
Conrad, and from the chief Inquisitor in Bohemia, letters declaring their belief
in his orthodoxy. He then put himself under the special care of John of Chlum
and Wenceslaus of Duba, and, under their escort, he started from Prague,
without waiting for the arrival of the safe-conduct. To judge by some
expressions in his letter to Sigismund, and still more by a letter which he left at
Prague, to be opened by a friend in case of his death, Hus had already a gloomy
anticipation of the fate which awaited him. But his spirits rose as the journey
continued; for everywhere he met with kindness and hospitality, even from the
Germans, and at Nürnberg he was chosen to preach before the nobles and
clergy. So, with raised hopes, on the 3rd of November, 1414, he arrived at the
town of Constance.
He and his friends were somewhat startled to find that the inn at which he
lodged was close to that already occupied by the Pope, who had so recently
excommunicated him. John of Chlum and Henry of Lac̆ embok decided that the
best course would be to go at once to the Pope, and tell him that Hus had
arrived, under the promise of safe-conduct from the Emperor. The Pope
answered that he had no desire to hinder Hus in any way; that he had no wish to

do him any violence; and that Hus might remain safe in Constance, even if he
had killed the Pope’s own brother. The arrival, two days later, of a messenger
from Sigismund bearing the safe-conduct must have further confirmed Hus’s
sense of security; and, so safe did his friends suppose him, that a rumour even
spread among some of them that he was to preach before the Council.
But, in the meantime, there had arrived in Constance two enemies far more
deadly to Hus than Pope or King. These were Michael de Causis, the German
priest, and Stephen Pálec̆ , his former friend and recent opponent, who had so
lately been banished from Prague as a disturber of the peace. They agreed to
draw up extracts, chiefly compiled from Hus’s book “De Ecclesia,” some of
them tolerably accurate, others perverting his meaning. These Pálec̆ carried
about among the Cardinals, bishops, and friars, and he stirred them up to take
action against Hus. At last, on the 28th of November, while Hus was at dinner,
there arrived at his house two bishops, the burgomaster of Constance, and a
German gentleman. Not knowing Hus by sight, they first applied to John of
Chlum for an opportunity of speaking with Hus, on behalf of the Cardinals.
Chlum seems at once to have suspected treachery, and he told them that Hus
had come to Constance to speak publicly before the Emperor and Council, and
that he was under the protection of the Emperor’s safe-conduct. The bishops
answered that they had come in the interests of peace and to prevent disorder.
Then Hus, rising from table, came to them, and said that, though he had come to
speak to the whole Council and not to the Cardinals only, yet, if the Cardinals
desired it, he would come to see them.
When he was brought to the palace, the Cardinals told him that they had been
informed that he taught many errors. He answered that he would sooner die than
teach errors, and he would amend any if they were shown to him. Then the
Cardinals went away for a time, leaving him under the guard of soldiers. Still,
they seem to have hesitated, and, in order to obtain clearer proof, they sent a
monk to try to entrap him into confession of heresy. But, when this failed,
Stephen Pálec̆ and Michael de Causis urged them to arrest him. One point,
which they strongly pressed in proof of his heresy, was the practice which
Jakaubek of Kladrau had introduced since the departure of Hus, of
administration of the Communion in both kinds to the laity. Then they raised
against him the charge which he had so often denied, of a sympathy with
Wyclif’s opposition to the doctrine of Transubstantiation. They revived the old
grievances of the Germans in the matter of the University votes, and then
charged him with having incited to the plunder of the clergy, and of having
stood alone in the support of the doctrines of Wyclif against both Germans and

Bohemians. The Cardinals then sent a messenger to Chlum, who had
accompanied Hus to the palace, and told him that he might leave Hus and return
home. Chlum hastened to the Pope, reminded him of his former promise, and
insisted again on Sigismund’s safe-conduct. Pope John answered that he had not
ordered the arrest of Hus, but that he could not resist the Cardinals.
Hus, in the meantime, had been hurried off to a Dominican convent, in a
suburb of Constance, and was there thrown into a damp prison. Chlum was not,
however, to be silenced; and he put up bills on the great church at Constance,
denouncing the Pope and Cardinals for their breach of faith. Then he appealed
to the Bohemian nobles who had come to the Council; and they and the leading
Polish nobles also prepared a protest against the treatment of Hus, to be
presented to Sigismund on his arrival. In the meantime, the treatment of Hus
showed a mixture of cruelty and cunning on the part of his opponents. While,
on the one hand, the prison in which he was confined was so damp as to
produce fever, he was yet allowed to communicate freely with his friends; and
two of the letters which he wrote from prison had some influence on his fate. In
one of these he defended the practice, which Jakaubek was now introducing, of
Communion in both kinds. In the other he declared that, even if he were
condemned by false witnesses, his friends were not to believe that he had
forsaken the truth. This latter letter seems to have fallen into the hands of Pálec̆ ,
or some other enemy; and it was at once perverted into the statement that, if he
revoked and recanted anything at Constance, he would still continue to hold and
teach it notwithstanding.
While these intrigues of the enemies of Hus were being reduced into a
literary form, Sigismund at last arrived at Constance. Most English readers will
remember the scene, as Carlyle has given it, of his splendid appearance on his
entrance into the Council, of his pompous address about the need of suppressing
the schism in the Church, and of his rebuke to the man who ventured to correct
his Latin—“Rex sum Romanus et super grammaticam.”
The question of Hus’s imprisonment was brought before him by the
Bohemian and Polish nobles; and he at first protested, with much indignation,
against the violation of his safe-conduct. But the necessity of dealing with the
question of the Papacy compelled him, for a time, to abandon further inquiry
into the Bohemian heresies; for the representatives of the Popes arrived soon
after at the Council. At first the discussion was confined to the consideration of
the disorders produced by the multiplication of claimants to the Papal throne;
and a demand was made for the simultaneous resignation of all the rivals, in
order that the ground might be cleared for a new election. But it soon became

evident that the case against John XXIII. was based on very different grounds
from the opposition to his rivals; and fearing the consequences which might
ensue, he fled from Constance. The Duke of Austria, willing enough to hamper
a Council presided over by a member of the House of Luxemburg, lent his aid
to this scheme, and John escaped to Freyburg. He was, however, seized and
brought back; and he was soon after degraded from the Papacy, on account of
his horrible crimes.
His attempted escape gave a new opportunity to the enemies of Hus. If, they
said, one prisoner of the Council could escape, why not another? Hus was too
lightly guarded at the convent; and he must be put under safer charge.
Therefore, on the night of March 24th, a guard of a hundred and seventy armed
men carried him off to a fortress, outside the city, belonging to the Bishop of
Constance; and there he was chained night and day. Again his friends
indignantly protested; but Sigismund was now evidently falling under hostile
influences. He had been offended already with Hus for having come to the
Council without waiting for the safe-conduct; and he was persuaded that the
fact that Hus possessed that safe-conduct had been in some way suppressed.
Indignant at this rumour, Sigismund, on the 8th of April, by the advice of the
Council, revoked all the letters of safe-conduct which he had granted. At last, on
April 17th, commissioners were appointed to report on Hus’s case.
It appears to have been about this time that Jerom also arrived at the Council.
His career, since the struggle against the indulgences had been very
unsatisfactory. He had first gone to Presburg to preach before Sigismund, and
had there been imprisoned. Escaping from prison, he had made his way to
Vienna; but had again been arrested there, and had consented to submit to an
examination by an Austrian bishop. Set free on parole, he had broken his word
and fled back to Bohemia, from whence he addressed a taunting letter to the
bishop. It was, therefore, under the shadow of some discredit that he came to
Constance, and offered to answer any charges of heresy which might be brought
against him. At the same time he demanded a safe-conduct from Sigismund;
and, not being able to obtain it, he fled from Constance, to which he was
forcibly brought back by the officers of the Duke of Bavaria. He was then
imprisoned, and kept heavily ironed for nearly a year.
Hus accused him of having disregarded the advice of his friends; and though
it is not clear, whether this refers to his coming to the Council, or to his conduct
when there, it is certain that his appearance must have made Hus’s position
more difficult.

At last, on May 14, 1415, the nobles of Bohemia and Poland were able to
make their protest before the Council against the treatment of Hus. They also
indignantly complained of the insults and slanders which were being circulated
against the Bohemian nation, as if they were profaners of the Sacrament, and
guilty of all sorts of indecencies in its celebration. The Bishop of Litomys̆ l rose
in answer to this to say that he was the author of these reports; and that this
desecration of the Sacrament was the natural consequence of granting the cup to
the laity. Another bishop answered their reference to Hus’s safe-conduct by
saying that Hus only obtained it after his imprisonment. To this the Bohemian
lords retorted that John of Chlum had himself shown the safe-conduct to the
Pope before the arrest of Hus. They defended his non-appearance at Rome in
answer to the summons of the Pope; and they produced the testimony of the
University of Prague to his orthodoxy. Then, after reiterating their denial of the
charges made by the Bishop of Litomys̆ l, they wound up with a rather amusing
outburst of aristocratic feeling. The Bishop of Litomys̆ l had demanded their
names, that he might know to whom he had to give answer. They had fancied
that their names were tolerably well known to him; but, for their part, they were
perfectly willing to give not only their own names, but those of their ancestors.
On a later occasion they produced the certificate which the Bohemian Inquisitor
had given to Hus.
At last, after repeated appeals, Hus was granted an audience on June 5th. But
no sooner did he try to answer the various charges brought against him, then all
the Council howled at him, and, after demanding that he should give a simple
answer (Yes! or No!), were proceeding to condemn him on the evidence of the
falsified letter to his friends. Fortunately Oldr̆ ich and Peter Mladenovich, who
had accompanied Hus to Constance, heard the noise of the riot, and hastened to
inform John of Chlum and Wenceslaus of Duba. They went at once to
Sigismund, who was not present at the Council; and he sent the Count Palatine
and Frederick of Hohenzollern to order the Councillors to hear Hus patiently.
After some further disorder, the audience was adjourned to the 7th of June.
At the next meeting many new points were raised against Hus, both of
doctrine and conduct. He defended his resistance to the condemnation of
Wyclif’s books, on the ground that he had been called on to say that every
proposition of Wyclif’s was either heretical, scandalous, or erroneous. At the
same time he admitted that he had wished his soul to be with Wyclif, on account
of Wyclif’s pure life. When charged with having appealed to Christ when
condemned by the Pope, he declared that to be a most just and efficacious
appeal, a statement which was received with laughter by his judges. At the same

time he indignantly denied having encouraged his followers to smite with the
material sword. Lastly, while maintaining the justice of the decision about the
Bohemian votes, he denied the extraordinary charge of Pálec̆ that he had driven
out the Germans.
But he was, unfortunately, doomed to irritate against him on every occasion
the intense vanity of Sigismund. One great object of his enemies was to deprive
him of any benefit accruing to him from his safe-conduct; and they caught
eagerly at an expression of his that he had come, freely and voluntarily, to the
Council. Provoked at the constant distortions of his language, he broke out with
a boast, which, however true, was most ill-judged. If, he said, he had not wished
to come to the Council, neither King nor Emperor could have compelled him;
for there were many friends who would have hidden him in their houses, so that
neither Wenceslaus nor Sigismund could have found him. When a murmur
arose at this, John of Chlum stepped forward and said that, though he was but a
poor gentlemen in his own country, he, for one, would have guarded Hus for a
year, whoever liked or disliked it; and that there were many others who would
have protected him in strong castles. This belittling of his power roused
Sigismund’s anger. He exclaimed that he had sent Hus his safe-conduct before
he left Prague; and that he had provided the noblemen for his escort; and he
now advised Hus to submit himself completely to the Council. Hus at once
answered, in his more ordinary tone, that he thanked Sigismund for the safe-
conduct; and, for his part, he would be glad to be corrected by the Council if he
were shown to be wrong.
On June 8th, he was examined more in detail on thirty-nine Articles gathered
from his writings. Some of these dealt with the subtle questions of
Predestination; but others were concerned with his assertions in the “De
Ecclesia” that a visible head was not necessary to the Church; and that a Pope in
mortal sin ceases to be a true Pope. Hus was able, with great force, to appeal to
the action of the Council itself in justification of these doctrines. If a Pope in
mortal sin did not cease to be a true Pope, by what right had they deposed John
XXIII.? If the visible Head was necessary to the Church, who was the Head
then, when all the Popes had either resigned or been deposed? Such arguments
were probably too forcible to be convincing.
But again, by some strange fatality, Hus was further to irritate against him the
suspicion and anger of the Holy Roman Emperor. “Not only,” said Hus, “did a
Pope cease to be a true Pope if in mortal sin, but the case of the deposition of
Saul by Samuel showed that a King might be treated in a similar way.”
Sigismund was sitting at a window in a back part of the room when this

utterance was made; but the Cardinals eagerly called him forward and made
Hus repeat his statement. Nor was this the only offence which he was doomed
to commit against the Emperor on that fatal day. When the examination had
concluded, the chief Cardinal asked Hus whether he would submit entirely to
the Council, or if he wished to defend any of the Articles alleged against him.
But when Hus demanded an opportunity for further discussion, the Cardinal
answered that the Council insisted on his abjuration and revocation of the
Articles alleged against him, and his promise not to preach them any more. To
this Hus answered, that he could not revoke and abjure opinions which he had
never held, mentioning as an instance the denial of Transubstantiation. As for
the opinions which he had set forth, he would retract them when they had been
refuted. Sigismund endeavoured to convince him that he could abjure Articles
which he had never held; whereupon Hus ventured to dispute the Emperor’s use
of the word “abjurare.” This further denial of the power of the Roman Emperor
over the Latin language roused to a still higher pitch the irritation of Sigismund
“Super Grammaticam;” and he told Hus that, unless he would abjure and revoke
all the errors alleged against him, the Council must deal with him according to
its laws.
Upon this a fat and richly dressed priest, who was sitting in the window, cried
out that they should not allow him to recant, since he would not keep his word;
and again he quoted the falsified version of Hus’s letter. Then Pálec̆ and
Michael de Causis pressed upon him a number of charges, some new and some
old, mixing up actual writings and doings of Hus with doctrines which he had
repudiated; and, after this had continued for some time, the Council decided to
send him back to prison, to see if a period of delay would induce him to revoke
his heresies.
For the moment Hus seemed to be crushed by the noise and bitterness of his
enemies. He was leaving the Council with the sense that the world was entirely
against him, when, as he drew near to the door, John of Chlum pressed through
the crowd and shook him warmly by the hand. The memory of that handshake
seems to have lingered to the last in the mind of Hus. Other friends, too, were
still faithful to him; and, after he had left the Council, several of them pressed to
the window of the convent where the Council was being held, to hear what
should follow.
Sigismund was now thoroughly inflamed against Hus. He had belittled the
protection which Sigismund had offered him, and had declared that his friends
could protect him against the Emperor; he had quoted a Scriptural instance of
the deposition of kings; and, above all, he had disputed Sigismund’s authority

over the Latin language. Such a man could not be suffered to live; and the
Emperor now declared that he delivered him over to the Council to be burnt, if
they so pleased; adding further, that no recantation was to be trusted. He also
implied that the death of Jerom must follow that of Hus.
Hus now saw that his fate was sealed; and one observes in his letters to his
friends the tone of a man who is preparing for death. He was particularly
anxious, lest the more ignorant of his followers should suffer for doctrines
which they had not understood, and which they had merely adopted from a
sense of personal devotion to their teacher. So he wrote to one of these
followers, that, if he should be attacked for his adherence to Hus, he should
answer his accusers by saying, “I hope that the Master was a good Christian, but
I have not understood or read through the things which he taught in the
schools.” The thought of the corruptions of the clergy still weighed upon his
mind; and he advised his nephews rather to learn some manual work than to
become priests; lest, if they assumed the spiritual office, they should not
maintain it as it deserved.
In the meantime, the Council, with singular maladroitness, had singled out
for special condemnation the granting of the Cup to the laity; and thus, at one
stroke, they changed the doctrine of a few obscure men into the war-cry of an
indignant nation. This decree called the attention to Hus to this matter, which,
till then, he had not deeply considered; and he wrote to his successor at the
Bethlehem Chapel that he ought not to oppose the granting of the Cup to the
laity, since there was nothing but custom against it; and that, if he opposed
Jakaubek, there would be a division amongst the faithful.
But, while Hus was thus interesting himself in the affairs of his countrymen,
the Council were not suffering him to rest in peace. One of the few priests who
had shown themselves friendly to Hus at the Council wrote to him urging
sophistical arguments in favour of a form of recantation; and Pálec̆ paid him
several visits, to worry him into confessions of heresy. Yet, bitterly as he felt the
persecutions of his former follower, that same self-distrust and earnest desire for
justice which he had shown in the question of the three votes, and again on his
retirement from Prague, appeared, even more remarkably, in this last interview.
He entreated his enemy to pardon him for having charged him with deliberate
falsehood on the occasion of Pálec̆ ’s first attacks in the Council. The savage
apostate was moved even to tears for the moment, though his pity was of short
duration.

At last, on July 5th, Wenceslaus of Duba and John of Chlum were sent to the
prison to demand Hus’s final answer. But these messengers had been ill-chosen
as exponents of the sophistries of Sigismund and the Cardinals. John of Chlum
addressed the prisoner as follows: “Master John, we are laymen and cannot
advise you. Therefore, see if there is anything in the things which they object to
you, in which you feel you are to blame. If so, do not fear to be instructed and
to revoke it; but, if you do not feel yourself guilty in your conscience in these
things, then by no means act against your conscience, nor lie in the sight of
God, but rather continue till the death in the truth which you have
acknowledged.” Then Hus answered, “Lord John! know, that if I knew that I
had written or preached anything contrary to the law or to our Holy Mother the
Church, God is my witness that I would humbly revoke it. But I always desired
that they should show me better and more probable Scriptures than those that I
had taught; and, if they are shown me, I will most readily recant.” A bishop,
who had come with the Bohemian nobles, now introduced the sophistical
platitude which is common on such occasions—“Do you wish,” he said, “to be
wiser than the whole Council?” “I do not wish,” answered Hus, “to be wiser
than the whole Council; but I ask you to give me the least of the Council who
can inform me by better and more efficacious Scriptures; and I am ready to
revoke what I said.”
On the following day he was brought forth to receive his final condemnation.
The articles on which he was to be condemned were read out against him,
though he continued to protest against the manner in which his words had been
perverted. To his horror, he found that they had added to the charges against him
a new article, in which he was accused of saying that he was a fourth person of
the Deity. He demanded the name of the author of this slander; but the Council
refused to tell him. Then, as a climax to his offences, they quoted his appeal to
Christ as against the Pope. At that he cried out “O Lord God! do this Council
condemn Thy law and Thy acts as an error? because Thou, when oppressed by
Thy enemies, didst commit Thy cause to Thy God and Father, and gavest us
thereby an example to appeal to Thee as the justest Judge, humbly demanding
Thy help.” Then for the last time he recapitulated the circumstances under
which he had come to the Council. When he referred to the safe-conduct, he
fixed his eye upon Sigismund; and the Emperor was observed to blush. This
blush is worth mentioning as the only sign of grace in that mean and
treacherous career. But, of course, neither appeal nor blush could avail Hus
anything; and his statement was almost immediately followed by his
condemnation to the stake.

Then he knelt down and said, “Lord Jesus Christ, pardon all my enemies for
Thy great mercy; Thou knowest that they have falsely accused me, that they
have produced false witnesses, and that they have produced false articles
against me; pardon them for Thy mercy.” This prayer was received with shouts
of laughter. Then they stripped him of his priestly dress, and put on him a crown
which declared him to be an Heresiarch. This was followed by a proclamation
committing his soul to the devil, to which he answered, “And I commit it to my
blessed Lord Jesus Christ.”
He had now quite recovered his composure; and, on his way to the stake, he
smiled when he saw the place where his books were being burnt; and he smiled
again when the paper crown fell off his head and he saw the three demons
which had been painted on it. When they put a heavy chain round his neck to
fasten him to the stake, he exclaimed, “The Lord Jesus my Redeemer was
bound with a heavier chain for me.” Even after the faggots had been piled round
him, the officials came to him, asking him to recant. He answered by
repudiating the false charges that had been made against him, and declared that
he had only preached the truth of the gospel and the holy Doctors. Then, as they
lit the fire round him, he cried out, “Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy
on me;” but, as he added the words, “Who wast born of the Virgin Mary,” a
flame struck him on the mouth, and he died praying.
N.B.—For the two stories which are most generally quoted about Hus, I can find no sufficient authority.
The beautiful tradition of his comment on the woman who brought the faggot to burn him, seems to belong
to a much later date; while the earliest authority, which I have discovered, for the prophecy about the
goose and the swan, is Martin Luther himself. But both the stories are eminently characteristic; and they
deserve to live as legend, if not as authentic history.

IX.
FROM THE DEATH OF HUS TO THE FIRST CORONATION
OF SIGISMUND.
(July 6, 1415-July 28, 1420.)

Few great teachers are ever well represented by their immediate followers
and disciples; but hardly any have been distinguished from their followers by so
many and such important differences as those which separated John Hus from
the men who are known by his name. First of all there was the gulf which
separates the man who rejoices to die for his faith from those who delight in
killing on its behalf. But that difference between teacher and follower, though
much more vital, is, perhaps, also more common than the barrier of doctrinal
difference which separated Hus from those who claimed to represent him. The
very practice, which supplied the war-cry of the coming struggle, was one
which Hus had merely approved with a friendly tolerance, never advocated with
any special enthusiasm; and that difference of feeling is characteristic of the
whole relations between Hus and his followers. On the one hand the
constitutional reforms of the Church, hinted at in the “De Ecclesia,” would
certainly have been rejected by the Calixtine party; while, on the other hand, the
doctrines and practices of the Taborites would have been opposed by Hus
himself. It will therefore be more convenient, in describing the following
struggle, to speak of the Reformers by their doctrinal name of “Utraquists,”
rather than by the personal but misleading title of “Hussite.”
But, if the spirit of the living Hus could scarcely be said to rest upon those
who called themselves by his name, undoubtedly the death of Hus was
recognised, on both sides, as the essential cause of the wars which followed.
Men might wrangle about this or that doctrine or practice; but the murder of a
Bohemian, in a place to which he had been sent under the special protection of
the King and the nobles, was a point which could never be forgiven or forgotten
against Sigismund or the Council of Constance; especially when this murder
was connected with an attempt to brand as heretics the whole Bohemian nation.
This feeling breathes through the fiery letter of the nobles of Bohemia, which
was sent to the Council on the 2nd of September, 1415. They accused the
Councillors of having condemned Hus on false evidence; and they declared him

to be a good Catholic. They give the lie to all to dare to assert that there is
heresy in Bohemia or Moravia, except only to the Emperor Sigismund, who,
they hope, is innocent in the matter; and they declare that they will defend the
law of Christ and His preachers, even to the shedding of blood.
While the nobles threw down their gauntlet to the Council in this formal
manner, the main body of the people showed their feeling by fierce riots against
the monks. Churches and monasteries were burnt; many monks were driven
from Prague, and some priests were killed in the riots. The Archbishop of
Prague determined to stand by his Order; and he too fixed on the Communion in
both kinds as the dividing line between the two parties. Finding that he could
neither prohibit this practice nor obtain compensation for the injuries done to
the clergy, he laid Prague under an Interdict.
This Interdict became a new source of division. The Utraquists utterly
disregarded it, and exposed themselves to the charge of rebellion against the
Church. The Catholics, on the other hand, scrupulously recognised the
archbishop’s decree, and therefore felt bound to celebrate their services only in
the Vys̆ ehrad, which was outside the prohibited area. The Catholic visits to that
fortress were compared by the Utraquists to the more celebrated pilgrimages to
Mecca; and hence the name of Mahometan was added to the other terms of
abuse, which were being so freely scattered by the rival theologians.
The attitude of Wenceslaus was wavering and uncertain. He had, indeed, been
disposed to accept the Council’s condemnation of the granting of the Cup to the
laity; but he had used his best influence to save Hus, and he had resented his
execution, as another proof of that faithlessness of Sigismund, of which he had
already had such painful experience. He refused, however, to join the League
which the nobles had formed to defend the liberties of Bohemia, partly, perhaps,
because they connected it with a defence of the practice just condemned by the
Council; and he even consented to support an Opposition League formed by the
Catholic nobles in defence of the Church.
Sigismund, on his part, began to entertain hopes that he might contrive to
sow division between these rival parties; and, feeling that his share in the death
of Hus was the point which prevented his success in these intrigues, he wrote to
the Bohemian nobles assuring them that he deeply regretted that death, that he
had done his best to prevent it, and that, if Hus had only consented to come
under the Emperor’s protection to Constance, instead of starting alone from
Prague, all would have been well; but he added that he could not have saved
Hus at the last, without breaking up the Council altogether. Whether these

falsehoods deceived any one may be doubted. At any rate they did not
accomplish Sigismund’s immediate purpose; for, when the Bishop of Litomys̆ l
arrived, with authority from the Council to suppress heresy in Bohemia, he
received no encouragement either from king or from nobles, and, when he
attempted violence, he was driven out by force.
Indeed, whatever terms the nobles of Bohemia might have thought right to
make with Sigismund, as the heir to the Bohemian throne, they could not, with
any credit to themselves, come to terms at this time with the Council of
Constance. In the same letter in which the nobles had condemned the burning of
Hus, they had also complained of the imprisonment of Jerom; and with Jerom it
was clear that the Council were determined to proceed to extremities. Worn
with starvation and chains, the unfortunate prisoner at last yielded to his
persecutors; and, while his countrymen were protesting against his
imprisonment, he had consented to recant his errors, and to acknowledge the
justice of the death of Hus. The Italian cardinals now desired to set him free; but
the German and Bohemian members of the Council, backed by the Chancellor
of the University of Paris, insisted that this recantation was not to be trusted,
and that Jerom should be further examined as to his doctrines. Michael de
Causis and Stephen Pálec̆ fastened with relentless eagerness on their second
victim, and, by so doing, they saved his honour and reputation, and gave him an
opportunity of showing his better side.
In May, 1416, he was granted a new hearing before the Council; and, after
having been for some time pestered with questions, he was at last allowed to
speak for himself. His long oration, filled with classical allusions, greatly
impressed the Italian scholar, Poggio Bracciolini, who was present on this
occasion. But it will scarcely strike modern readers as so edifying as the simpler
utterances of Hus. The conclusion, however, was more worthy of the occasion.
It contained a manly and straightforward eulogy on Hus, an expression of his
deep regret at the weakness which had led him to recant, and a declaration of
his adherence to the teaching both of Hus and of Wyclif. Then, on May 14,
1416, he was led out to be burnt, and went singing to the stake.
If this execution had not been sufficient to prevent a reconciliation between
the Bohemians and the Council of Constance, another event of the same period
would certainly have deepened the division between them. The Bishop of
Olmütz died about this time, and Wenceslaus nominated a new bishop in his
stead. The Council, however, intervened; and they not only rejected
Wenceslaus’s nominee, but they demanded that he should accept instead that
Bishop of Litomys̆ l whom he had just driven out of the country as a disturber of

the peace, and who was so deeply hated for his prominent share in the
condemnation of Hus. Wenceslaus of course refused, and thereby widened the
gulf between himself and the orthodox Catholics.
Unfortunately, however, the effect of this consolidation of national feeling
was speedily weakened by the divisions which had begun to show themselves in
the Utraquist party. Teachers were coming to the front who demanded far more
sweeping reforms than those which Jakaubek of Kladrau and the other friends
of Hus were at all disposed to approve; and they wished to enforce these
reforms by the extremest violence. As these reforms were aimed, not only at
abuses in the Church, but also at the influence of the wealthy men in the State,
the Reformers soon roused against them the fears and anger of the well-to-do
citizens of Prague. Nor were these alarms likely to be modified when it became
evident that two men, at least, of important position and remarkable ability,
were disposed to place themselves at the head of the reforming movement.
The leader who first attracted the attention of the crowd and the fears of the
King was Nicholaus of Hus, the Guardian of the Fortress of Hus, and the
proprietor of the village of Husinec. He had been a favourite with the King, and
was reputed, even by his enemies, to be a man of great ability and insight. He
now gathered together such great crowds of people for prayer and preaching
that Wenceslaus began to suspect him of aiming at the throne. But the more
pacific abilities of Nicholaus were soon to be thrown into the shade by his
fiercer and more brilliant ally, John Z̆ iz̆ ka of Troc̆ nov.
Though Z̆ iz̆ ka, like Nicholaus, had been a favourite at Court, he had already
once offended the king by a daring act of independence. Influenced, no doubt,
by Sigismund and his friends, Wenceslaus had at one time supported the Order
of Teutonic Knights in their struggle against the King of Poland. The anti-
German feeling in Bohemia was already running high, even at that time; and
sympathy with their Slavonic kinsmen induced many Bohemian officers to
hasten to the support of the Poles, in opposition to the wish of the King. In this
semi-rebellious movement Z̆ iz̆ ka had taken a prominent part; but he had, since
then, been pardoned and received back into favour. His independent spirit,
however, was ill-suited to a Court life, and he was not long in giving new
offence to Wenceslaus.

MARKET-PLACE OF PRACHATICE, THE TOWN WHERE HUS AND Z̆ IZ̆ KA WENT TO SCHOOL.

Tradition gives an early date to the first signs of sympathy between Z̆ iz̆ ka and
Hus. Within a walk of the village of Husinec stands the old town of Prachatice,
where the ruins are still shown of the school in which Z̆ iz̆ ka and Hus are said to
have studied together. However this may be, there can be no doubt that it was
very soon after the death of Hus that Z̆ iz̆ ka began to assume that position of
leadership among the extremer Utraquists, which ultimately gained him such
fame both among friends and enemies. This section of Reformers had already
discovered that they did not receive that sympathy from the citizens of Prague
which they believed to be their due. Many of them were compelled to leave the
city; and they gathered together on a mountain near Austi, to which they gave
the name of Tabor, and to which their supporters gradually flocked from all
parts of the kingdom. These gatherings so alarmed Wenceslaus that they even
weakened his hostility to the Council of Constance; and not only the followers
of Nicholaus and Z̆ iz̆ ka, but even some of the more moderate Utraquists became
objects of his suspicion.
This change of feeling naturally increased the hopes of Sigismund, and he
became even more sanguine of success, and more bitter against the followers of

Hus, when the Council of Constance elected, under the name of Pope Martin V.,
that Cardinal Colonna, who had urged upon John XXIII. the first proposal for
the condemnation of Hus. Under the influence of this new Pope, all the schemes
of reform, which the Council had once thought of considering, were sacrificed
to the one aim of the suppression of heresy; and in April, 1418, the Pope
secured himself a freer hand by dissolving the Council of Constance.
Urged, then, by pressure from Emperor and Pope, and by his own fear of
Utraquistic excesses, Wenceslaus banished one of the Reformers from Prague,
and recalled the Catholic clergy, who had been expelled from the city. He
discovered, indeed, that Utraquism had taken so deep a root in Prague that it
would be necessary to grant at least three churches to its preachers. But this
concession did not satisfy the more zealous champions of the cause; and the
favour shown by the King to the Catholics provoked riots among the
Reformers. Then Wenceslaus demanded that the citizens should all give up their
arms to him.
Z̆ iz̆ ka now saw that the controversy with the Catholics must sooner or later
end in war; and he was determined that his followers should not be unprovided
for such a struggle. He therefore resolved to obey the royal summons, but in a
peculiar manner of his own. He gathered together his followers, led them into
the presence of the King, and assured him that they were ready to stand by him,
with life and property, against his enemies. The unfortunate Wenceslaus felt
bound to thank Z̆ iz̆ ka and his followers for this loyal declaration; but Z̆ iz̆ ka
knew well enough that he had thereby forfeited the royal favour. He therefore
quickly retired from Court, and joined Nicholaus of Hus in organising their
followers on Mount Tabor. The alarm of Wenceslaus was naturally increased by
these proceedings; and he began to meet the opposition by deposing the Town
Councillors in the different divisions of Prague, and thrusting in their
opponents. This was a more arbitrary act of power than he had yet resorted to in
this struggle; and it naturally hastened on the violent crisis which had long been
approaching.
The quarter in which the outbreak finally took place had a peculiar character
of its own, which some historians believe to have affected the character of the
coming struggle. It will be remembered that Charles IV. had done much, not
merely to develop the intellectual greatness of Prague, but also to increase its
physical size. A completely new suburb had been added during that reign, which
was known as the New Town of Prague. This division of the city was governed
by its own Council, and rapidly assumed a peculiar character. Charles’s policy
attracted many Germans to the city; and, while the more prominent struggle

between the rival “Nations” of the University had been growing in intensity, it
is believed by some that an equally bitter feeling had been springing up among
those Bohemian workmen who had fallen under the rule of German employers
of labour. The historians who hold this view maintain that the workmen, who
desired to escape from this domination, fled from the older parts of Prague, and
found new possibilities of life and of organisation in the New Town. Whether
this migration can be clearly proved or no, it is certain that, both at this and later
crises, there appears a more democratic and, in some respects, a more national
spirit in the movements which had their rise in the New Town, than in those of
other parts of the city.
It was then, in the church of St. Stephen, in the New Town, that on the 30th
of July, 1419, a fiery preacher named John of Seelau (Zelív) delivered a sermon
in the presence of an excited crowd of the followers of Z̆ iz̆ ka. After being
worked up by pictures of the coming judgment, these fiery reformers marched
in procession through the streets. As they passed the Council House, some insult
appears to have been offered them by those who were looking out of the
windows; whereupon the infuriated Utraquists rushed upstairs into the council
chamber, and hurled the newly-elected Councillors from the window, the crowd
below receiving the falling men on the points of their spikes. Then Z̆ iz̆ ka and
his friends proceeded to seize the town into their hands, elected four captains
for each district, and appointed Councillors in the place of those who had been
killed.
Wenceslaus was furious at this news, and vowed that he would exterminate
all Wyclifites and Hussites. Many of his advisers, however, were still in
sympathy with the principle of Utraquism; and they persuaded the King to come
to terms with the rioters, and to confirm the election of the new Councillors.
The excitement of the controversy and the humiliation of this confession were
too much for the strength of Wenceslaus. He was seized with a fever; and, in
August, 1419, ended at last his long and tragic reign.
The concessions into which Wenceslaus had been persuaded by his queen and
his nobles, produced less effect on the minds of the citizens of Prague than the
violent threats which had preceded them; and, at the time of his death, the
feeling against him was so fierce that his friends did not venture to give him a
public funeral, but buried him secretly by night. A still plainer evidence of this
feeling was shown in the renewal of the riots against the monks. Altars, organs,
and images of saints were destroyed; and many of the monks were driven out of
the city.

Several of the nobles who had been hitherto inclined to the Utraquist cause,
were so much alarmed at these excesses that they called upon Sigismund, as
next heir to the throne, to hasten to Bohemia, to restore order. The messengers
found him preparing to start on an expedition against the Turks; and his German
and Hungarian councillors persuaded him to delay his visit to Bohemia, until he
could enter it at the head of a victorious army. He therefore appointed
Wenceslaus’s widow Sophia as regent in his place; and he chose a council to
assist her, of which the most prominent member was C̆ enĕk of Wartenberg.
C̆ enĕk was one of those men who will always receive more condemnation
and less pity than are their due. He was evidently a man of some attractive
qualities, and, originally at least, of excellent intentions. He had taken the lead
in the protest against the execution of Hus; and, if he had shown himself
somewhat too tolerant towards the early excesses of Z̆ iz̆ ka and his friends, he
had at least helped to preserve Wenceslaus from being driven by those acts into
the arms of Sigismund. But to steer the kingdom through the dangers with
which it was threatened by the fierce intolerance of Sigismund on the one hand,
and of Z̆ iz̆ ka on the other, required stronger nerve and clearer purpose than
C̆ enĕk possessed; and thus his continual changes of party were effected in a
manner which have left a deep stain on his memory.
When the Bohemian Assembly first met to consider the position of affairs, it
seemed as if the moderate Utraquists would be able to carry the day; for a
resolution was passed that the Estates would only consent to the coronation of
Sigismund on the following conditions: First, that he would permit the
Communion in both kinds to be celebrated in all the churches, and would try to
procure the sanction of the Pope to this practice. Secondly, that he would place
no clergy in temporal authority. Thirdly, that he would not permit the
publication of any Papal Bulls until they had received the approval of the
King’s Council. Fourthly, that he would not appoint any foreigners to either
temporal or spiritual offices, nor set German magistrates over towns where
Bohemians dwelt. Lastly, that the proceedings of the law-courts should be
conducted in the Bohemian language. These were the principal demands of the
nobles; but the citizens of Prague, who were daily gaining greater influence in
the councils of the State, added certain conditions of their own. These were that
Sigismund should grant an amnesty for the recent disturbances; that he should
not permit the establishment in Prague of any more houses of ill-fame; and that
he should permit the reading of at least the Gospel and Epistle in the Bohemian
language. Such a programme might seem to unite for the moment all sections of
Bohemians who desired peace and independence for their country; but, when

Sigismund replied by putting aside the whole of these demands, and declaring
that he would only promise to govern as his father had governed before him, the
situation was entirely changed.
Strange as it sounds, in speaking of so turbulent a country, it is none the less
true that, till this time, there had been no instance of a combined national
resistance in Bohemia to a King who was the sole lawful claimant of the throne.
There had been plenty of instances of setting up rival members of the royal
family against each other; attempts by discontented nobles to call in a foreign
King or Emperor to their help; and even something like a provincial
insurrection of Moravia against Bohemia; but that the National Assembly of
Bohemia should formally commit itself to an attempt to exclude from the
country the lawful heir to the throne, who was at once the only living
representative of the House of Luxemburg, and the ruler of the Holy Roman
Empire—this was a step so unprecedented that it may well have caused
hesitation in those who were called upon to take it.
Doubtless this difficulty might have been avoided if Sophia could have
ventured on more independent action. But the Queen, though she had exercised
so useful an influence over her husband during his lifetime, seems, after his
death, to have fallen completely into the background, and to have taken her cue
from Sigismund, or from his principal advisers.
The result, then, of the deliberations of the Bohemian Assembly was that the
nation was broken up into three parties. These were as follows: (1) The Catholic
Party, which was in favour of complete submission to Sigismund. (2) The
Moderate Utraquist Party which would have accepted him if he would have
granted some amount of religious liberty. (3) The Extreme Reforming Party,
which thoroughly distrusted Sigismund, and desired to throw off his authority.
The first of these parties found its supporters chiefly in Moravia, and
particularly in the German-speaking districts of that province. By a strange
irony of fortune, its leader was that Wenceslaus of Duba who had stood so
gallantly by Hus at the Council of Constance. But though he, and one or two
others of the party, may have cherished some national aspirations, they were, as
a body, too much out of sympathy with the keen Slavonic feeling of the country
to be reckoned as a Bohemian party at all. The second party, which gradually
acquired the name of Calixtines, from the importance which they attached to the
custom of granting the Cup to the laity, were really composed of two very
different elements. Many of the great nobles, while theoretically zealous for the
Cup, were far more anxious to maintain that position in the country which
largely depended on the favour of the king; while, on the other hand, learned

preachers like Jakaubek of Kladrau were as zealous for the reforms which they
desired as many of the extremer Utraquists could be, and would have risked and
sacrificed as much to secure them.

ENTRANCE INTO FORTIFIED PART OF TABOR.

But, though men like Jakaubek of Kladrau had an important part to play in
the coming struggle, it was from the third Bohemian party that there were to be
drawn the most determined fighters, and the most impressive figures, in the
struggle of Bohemia against the German Emperor. This party had been founded
by those fiery spirits who had been banished from Prague by Wenceslaus; and
they derived their name of Taborite from the mountain which they had made
their chief place of refuge after their expulsion from Prague. So great was the
enthusiasm which they caused that, when Wenceslaus forbade any further visits
to Tabor under penalty of death and confiscation of goods, large numbers of the
peasantry willingly sacrificed all their possessions, and risked the chance of
death, to unite themselves with this chosen band. A community so formed
naturally developed very remarkable qualities; and a stern Puritanical gloom,
combined with the Puritanical nobleness of aspiration, rapidly showed itself
among them. Rich and poor shared their food with each other; no strife or theft

was permitted; intoxicating liquors were excluded from the mountain; and not
only was gambling forbidden to the elders, but even the children were deprived
of their games. Such is the account given of the Taborites by a somewhat hostile
chronicler, who thus proceeds to describe their manner of passing the day:
“Having then completed the moderate refreshment of the body, the priests
rise with the people to give thanks to God. They march round the Mount of
Tabor, bearing the venerable Eucharist—the virgins preceding the Sacrament,
and the men and women in their squadrons following, all shouting and singing
psalms as seems convenient. When this procession is finished, they exchange
farewells with their clergy, not bending to the right or left lest they should
trample on the wheat; and so they come to the place whence they started.”
These people, already prepared for religious enthusiasm by the stern discipline
of such a life as this, were kindled yet further by fiery sermons, founded chiefly
on the visions of the Apocalypse, in which prophecies were delivered of the
speedy coming of Christ, and the reign of the Saints, which was to be hastened
by the putting to death of the enemies of Christ. They were told that they were
to bathe and sanctify their hands in the blood of their enemies; and that, while
they were to imitate the zeal and indignation of their Master, this was not the
time to imitate His gentleness. All human learning, said the fiercer of the
preachers, was to be treated with contempt; and the taking of degrees at the
University was a vanity.
Nor was it only the training, which they had received from their preachers,
that prepared the Taborites for the part which they were to play in the coming
struggle. Z̆ iz̆ ka was eminently fitted to be the hero of a revolutionary party. To a
fiery sincerity, and a steady devotion to that high ideal of life which was implied
in the Taborite creed, he united a genius for leadership and organisation which
the greatest generals might have envied; a statesmanlike instinct for seizing the
right moment and the right course of action; and a savage ferocity which none
of his opponents could surpass.

HOUSE IN TABOR WITH OLD TABORITE
COMMUNION TABLE IN FRONT OF IT.

But, though this fiery band, and their uncompromising leader, were to give
the tone to the struggle which was fast approaching, one passing hint was given,
before the outbreak of the war, of the presence among the Bohemians of gentler
spirits who would gain a hearing at a later and more appropriate time. One or
more of those Taborites, who had not imbibed that contempt for learning which
had been inculcated by their wilder preachers, applied to the Masters of the
Prague University, to know whether war on behalf of religion was not forbidden
by the command to Peter to put up his sword into his sheath. Jakaubek
answered, on behalf of his colleagues, that, though a war for the propagation of
the Faith was undoubtedly forbidden to Christians, yet a defensive war for the
protection of the Faith was certainly lawful.
This question, as has been already suggested, has more importance as a
prophecy of future religious developments than as a characteristic utterance of
the period. But the answer has a more immediate significance, as indicating a
policy which was to separate the learned professors of the University from the
more aristocratic section of the Calixtines. This difference has already been
referred to above; but it requires to be emphasized and developed. In the case of
C̆ enek of Wartenberg the difference seems to have been partly due to a sense of
loyalty to the House of Luxemburg, and to a shrinking from some of the

violences in which the Taborites indulged. But C̆ enek’s prominent position in
his party was not due solely to his personal qualities or even to his personal
rank. It was also largely derived from the guardianship which he possessed over
the lands of Rosenberg; and this position must also be considered as colouring
the character of his policy.
Ulric von Rosenberg, like his guardian C̆ enek, played a somewhat
questionable and uncertain part in the coming struggle. But the times and
circumstances of his changes of position lead one to attribute to him somewhat
different motives of action from those which influenced his guardian. He seems
to have begun his career as a decided Utraquist; but his subsequent oppressions
of his Utraquist dependents show a bitterer change of feeling than can be laid to
the charge of C̆ enek; while his special opposition to Z̆ iz̆ ka seems to mark the
real ground of his questionable policy. In mere doctrine he may have had some
sympathy with the reforming movement; but he was soon alarmed by the
democratic character of the Taborite party and of its leader; and the great power
which had been so long wielded by the Rosenbergs, was thrown, in the main,
into the defence of aristocratic privileges and feudal rights. For the moment,
however, the nobles could put forward the excuse that they were supporting the
claims of a Queen, who was not stained with the blood of Hus, nor committed
to an anti-national policy; and, it was on her behalf that C̆ enek now organised a
standing army, and seized into his hands several important fortresses.
Z̆ iz̆ ka, on his part, felt that no time was to be lost in saving the cause for
which he desired to struggle. So, at the head of a band of his drilled peasants, he
suddenly marched upon the fortress of the Vys̆ ehrad, drove out the royalist
garrison, and put his own men in their place. Then, on the 10th of November,
the Taborites set out in various bands, from the three or four towns which were
occupied by their party; and they marched to Prague, to hold a great meeting
there. The main body met at the town of Zinkov, where they organised their
forces before proceeding on their march. But three hundred men had started
alone from Austi, apparently ill-armed and ill-prepared for attack. This detached
body was met on its way by one of the royalist nobles; and on the first attack he
put to flight the men of Austi with much slaughter.
The fugitives escaped to Knin, at which point the main body of their friends
had now arrived. Baron von Sternberg, the general of the royalists, marched
thither to meet the advancing Taborites, and probably hoped to obtain an easy
victory. But the sturdy peasants repelled his attack with such vigour that the
royalists were forced to retreat; and on the 4th of November, 1419, the Taborites
entered Prague without further opposition. The royalist party were at once

called to arms; while, on the other side, Nicholaus of Hus and Z̆ iz̆ ka marched
into the Small Division of Prague, and, after a fierce struggle, seized upon the
great fortress, which still overlooks the town. The Queen fled from Prague
under the protection of Ulric of Rosenberg. C̆ enek in the meantime gathered
new forces on her behalf, and persuaded several towns to declare for the royalist
cause.

FIGURE OF MINER WITH
MINING LAMP AND STAFF IN
CHURCH OF ST. BARBARA AT
KUTTENBERG (KUTNA HORA).

KUTNA HORA, OFFICE WHERE THE
COINS WERE STRUCK BY THE ITALIANS
BROUGHT TO KUTNA HORA BY
WENCESLAUS II.

Each party was now conscious of the strength of its opponents; and, under
such circumstances, those moderate citizens of Prague who combined a zeal for
freedom with a desire for peace, were able to hold the balance between the
contending parties. So a compromise was effected, by which the queen and the
nobles were pledged to protect religious liberty and especially Communion in
both kinds; while the citizens, on their part, consented to restore the fortress of
Vys̆ ehrad to the Queen, and to abstain from any injuries to churches or images.
Z̆ iz̆ ka, however, distrusted the Queen’s party, and was discontented with these
terms. So he withdrew with most of his troops to his chief fortress of Pilsen
(Plz̆ en).

TOWN COUNCIL HOUSE OF PILSEN (PLZEN).

Although the recovery of the Vys̆ ehrad was an important gain to the royalist
cause, the great centre of the extreme Catholic feeling was the town of Kutna
Hora. That town, from its importance as a mining centre, and from the special
favour shown to it by the kings, had become a kind of rival to Prague; and in a
time of civil war such rivalry naturally ripened into active hostility of the
fiercest description. In spite of the occasional fierceness of such outbursts as
that which had produced the slaughter of the Councillors of the New Town,
there had been, till now, little organised cruelty in the contest between the two
parties. Now, however, whether actuated by municipal rivalry or religious
hostility, the men of Kutna Hora began to inaugurate a system of persecution
which was to produce terrible reprisals. They seized upon all the Utraquists
whom they could find, and even paid other towns so much a head to send them
victims. Some of these they buried alive in pits; some they burnt, and some they
beheaded; so that in a short time more than sixteen hundred had been put to
death.
In the meantime Sigismund had returned from Hungary to Moravia; and in
Christmas, 1419, he and Queen Sophia held a meeting at Brünn (Brno). The
citizens of Prague sent a deputation to this assembly to entreat for terms of
peace. Sigismund ordered them at once to pull down all the chains which they
had placed across the streets; to destroy all their new fortifications; and to bring

back the Catholic priests who had been driven out. The citizens were so anxious
to avoid a collision with Sigismund that they consented to these terms; and they
destroyed their fortifications amid the jeers of the Catholics and Germans.
Z̆ iz̆ ka now fully realised the impossibility of any compromise, and he
prepared for a desperate struggle. His first intention had been to make the town
of Pilsen the centre of his operations. From that town he had succeeded in
driving out all the Catholics; and its fortifications were so strong that he hoped
to make it good against all comers. But the growing strength of the fortress of
Tabor led him to change his opinion; and he decided to withdraw from Pilsen,
and to concentrate the whole force of his followers on the mountain from which
they took their name. According to one account, the divisions in Pilsen itself
were the main cause of this decision. Certainly some special explanation is
needed of a step which proved, in one way, so disastrous to the reforming cause;
for, during all the victories gained by the Utraquists, they were never able to
recover this important fortress again.
It was not, however, unconditionally that Z̆ iz̆ ka consented to abandon this
position. He stipulated that he should be allowed to depart freely to Tabor, and
that the granting of the Cup to the laity should be permitted in Pilsen.
Wenceslaus of Duba, as leader of the Catholic forces, consented to the terms
which Z̆ iz̆ ka proposed. Unfortunately, however, the doctrine that faith should
not be kept with heretics had already taken deep root amongst the opponents of
the Utraquists. While Z̆ iz̆ ka was still on his way from Pilsen to Tabor, he was
attacked by Peter of Sternberg, at the head of a royalist force. Unprepared for
this attack, and very inferior in the number of his forces, Z̆ iz̆ ka at first retreated
before his enemies; but, finding himself compelled to fight, he took up his
position on the bank of a fish-pond near the town of Sudomír. There, for the
first time, he adopted the plan which became a special characteristic of his
battles. He entrenched himself behind his baggage-waggons, over which his
men fired at the advancing foe. The struggle was a fierce one; but at last the
royalists were compelled to retreat, and Z̆ iz̆ ka went on in safety to Tabor.
But though much of the success of the Utraquist wars was due to the energy
of Z̆ iz̆ ka and his followers, the leading citizens of Prague had also a very
important influence on the struggle; and Sigismund’s actions soon roused in
them that desperate courage which had seemed for a moment to forsake them.
The nickname of Sigismund, “Super Grammaticam,” has been fixed on this
Emperor by Carlyle; but an even more distinctive name would have been
Sigismund “Super Veritatem.” Many other rulers have told lies in their time of
emergency; but surely no one ever took so much pains to write himself down a

liar as Sigismund did at every stage of his career. It will be remembered that he
had written most urgently to the Bohemians, to express his regret for the death
of Hus, and to assure them that he had done all he could to prevent it. Yet, as
soon as Pope Martin had published his Bull, urging a crusade against the
Hussites, Sigismund seized upon a merchant of Prague named Krasa, and
publicly burnt him in Breslau, on the express ground that he had disapproved of
the burning of Hus and Jerom.
C̆ enek of Wartenberg, who had been entrusted by Sigismund with the care of
the fortress of Prague, now declared that he could no longer serve the king. At
nearly every stage in the career of this unfortunate nobleman, his change of
opinion, however excusable in itself, was stained by some act of treachery. On
this occasion he invited the subordinate governors of the castle to dinner, and
seized that opportunity for arresting and imprisoning them. Having thus
mastered the castle, he placed it under the care of the citizens of Prague. He
then arrested seventy-six of the clergy, and drove several of the opposing
citizens from the town.
But C̆ enek was never long of one mind; and he soon began to despair of the
struggle on which he had entered. On the one hand the Catholic defenders of the
Vys̆ ehrad held out successfully against his attacks; and at the same time he
seems to have been sincerely shocked at the outrages committed by the
Taborites. In the early outbursts, though there had been much plundering and
some bloodshed, there had been little deliberate cruelty. Now, however, Z̆ iz̆ ka
began to imitate only too closely the cruelties of the Kuttenberger; for finding a
number of monks in a castle which he had stormed, he burnt them alive after the
victory was over. When this cruelty was followed by the destruction of many
churches and monasteries, C̆ enek began to shrink from the cause which he had
defended, and to urge the citizens of Prague to come to terms with Sigismund.
Finding, however, that he was unable to persuade them to take this course, he
resolved secretly to betray the castle to Sigismund, on the understanding that
the Communion in both kinds should be permitted on C̆ enek’s own estates.
Sigismund apparently consented to this arrangement; and C̆ enek secretly
admitted into the castle four thousand of the royalist soldiers, of whom many
were Germans. Furious at this treachery, the citizens made so fierce an attack
upon the castle that C̆ enek was panic-struck and fled secretly to Sigismund. But
the attack was made without organisation or arrangement and the citizens were
repelled.

THE CASTLE OF PRAGUE.

Several noblemen had followed C̆ enek in his desertion of the national cause;
and at last the citizens decided to send a new embassy to Sigismund, under the
protection of Wenceslaus of Duba. Sigismund’s hope and indignation had alike
been raised by the recent events; and he demanded that the citizens should
surrender all their arms to the defenders of the Vys̆ ehrad. On receiving this
demand, the Town Council of Prague sent defiance to the king, and resolved to
fight till the last.
Both parties now prepared for action; and, while Sigismund was issuing an
appeal to all citizens and princes to come to help him against his rebellious
subjects, Z̆ iz̆ ka and Nicholaus of Hus were preparing to march to Prague at the
head of their Taborite forces. Many of the workmen and peasants were now
beginning to stir themselves for the national cause; and, before Sigismund could
secure the help of the Electors of the Empire, he was to have a slight taste of the
dangers which he was about to encounter. The Kutna Hora miners had roused
much opposition by their cruelties on behalf of the royalist cause; and the
charcoal burners, who had hitherto been dependent upon them, had now
revolted against them. After vainly attempting to pacify their new opponents,

the Kuttenberger appealed to Sigismund, and he sent them a detachment of the
royal troops. The charcoal burners met the soldiers with stones and arrows; and,
cheered on by a Taborite priest, they drove back the royalists in confusion to the
mountains. The priest, however, was wounded; and the charcoal burners then
retreated.
In the meantime Z̆ iz̆ ka and his forces were on their march. Their importance
was now recognised by their opponents; and Wenceslaus of Duba attempted to
intercept them. Z̆ iz̆ ka encountered the royalists near Porc̆ ic, signally defeated
them, and entered Prague in triumph on the 20th of May, 1420.
The powerful help of the new-comers was doubtless welcomed by the
citizens of Prague; but they speedily discovered that differences of habit and
feeling were likely to produce as many difficulties in the relations of the two
parties to each other, as had already been produced by differences of doctrine.
Both sections of the Utraquist Party had desired to introduce a purer life and
simpler habits; and in many cases they had taken steps to enforce them. But the
Taborite ideal, and still more the Taborite methods of realising it, differed
considerably from those of the comfortable and orderly citizens of Prague. The
latter, it appeared, indulged in delicately trimmed beards and moustachios; their
wives wore trains, which seemed to the Taborites unduly long; and the hair of
the younger ladies fell in long and curiously made plaits on their shoulders. The
sturdy peasant reformers resolved summarily to correct these evils; so they
seized the citizens in the streets, and compulsorily shaved them, cut off the
trains of their wives’ dresses, and even shortened the locks of the girls. The
citizens naturally objected to such strong methods of reform; and the Taborite
captains cut short these proceedings by sending their followers to dig trenches
for the defence of the town.
But the value of the new defenders was soon proved; for a force of royalist
troops on their way to the castle at Prague, were completely cut to pieces by a
sally of the Taborites; and when Sigismund at last advanced against the city, the
approach of this fierce peasant army, wielding the spiked flails which were
generally their only weapon, struck him with such fear that he at once
abandoned the siege of Prague, and devoted himself to more easy enterprises.
Nor were the nobles of Bohemia more fortunate in their efforts. Ulric of
Rosenberg, who had followed C̆ enek in his desertion of the popular cause, was
driven back from Tabor by Nicholaus of Hus, and confined himself for a time to
imprisoning and starving the Utraquist priests whom he found on his lands.

In the meantime, the appeal of the Pope and the Emperor for a crusade
against the Utraquists was producing its effect. Not only from Germany, but
from various parts of Hungary, Spain, France, England, and Holland, and in
some cases even from Poland, trained warriors came to join Sigismund’s army.
Prominent amongst the German princes was Frederick of Hohenzollern. He
had been secured to Sigismund’s cause by a transaction which roused new
bitterness in Bohemia against the Emperor. It may be remembered that Charles
IV. had added Brandenburg to the Bohemian kingdom. Thomas of S̆ títný, and
other stern moralists, had objected to this acquisition, considering it as a mere
act of personal aggrandisement, and of no real benefit to the kingdom. But, in
the history of every country, there have been additions of territory which,
however questionable in their origin, have afterwards roused on their behalf a
strong national feeling. Nor must it be forgotten that the circumstances, under
which Sigismund surrendered this territory, certainly justified considerable
indignation on the part of the Bohemians. In 1415, four years before he was
actually King of Bohemia, without any consultation with Wenceslaus or the
Bohemian Assembly, Sigismund handed over Brandenburg to Frederick of
Hohenzollern, whose ancestor had so actively assisted Rudolf in the conquest of
Bohemia.
It soon appeared that the national feeling against Germans in general, and the
Hohenzollerns in particular, was not limited to the Utraquists, but was shared
even by those Bohemian nobles who followed Sigismund in battle. So intense
was this hatred that the Bohemians and their allies had to be quartered in
different parts of the field; and doubtless this disagreement was one cause of the
strange delay in the operations of the army which followed their arrival before
Prague. Two weeks were spent by the captains of the host in raids upon the
neighbouring towns, whence they brought in Utraquist priests whom they burnt
in the camp. One occasion is specially noted by the chronicler, in which three
old men and four boys were brought in, in company with their priest. These
prisoners, after having been struck and insulted for some time, were ordered to
abjure the practice of Communion in both kinds, and when they refused, were
burnt. During all this time Z̆ iz̆ ka was working at the fortifications of a hill
which overlooks the town, and from which he hoped to conduct the defence.

VIEW OF PRAGUE SHOWING Z̆ IZ̆ KA’S HILL TO THE
NORTH-EAST.

At last, on the 14th of July, the invading army grew weary of its delays, and
prepared for a general attack on various parts of the city. In this plan the
invaders were to be aided by the garrisons which occupied respectively the
fortress of the Vys̆ ehrad and the castle of Prague. The battle began by an attempt
to storm the hill which Z̆ iz̆ ka had fortified. This attack was undertaken by the
Margrave of Meissen, the hereditary enemy of the Bohemians. As his soldiers
charged up the hill they were encountered, not only by Z̆ iz̆ ka’s forces, but also
by private citizens, and even by women. The stones hurled by these defenders
produced such effect that the first attack was repelled. But the Germans quickly
returned to the charge; nor could the desperate courage of the defenders wholly
prevent their advance. One of the Germans seized on a woman who was
defending the hill; but she vowed that she would not yield to anti-Christ, and
she was killed in defending herself. Still the invaders pressed on. Z̆ iz̆ ka was
himself wounded and struck down, and was with difficulty rescued by the flails
of his followers. The Germans had almost reached the top of the hill, when
suddenly the gate of the city, which stood nearest to the hill on the other side,
was thrown open, and a priest came out bearing the Sacrament, and followed by
fifty archers, and some more of the flail-bearing peasants. At the same moment
all the bells in the city were set ringing; and, with a great shout, echoed from
within the walls, the new-comers rushed up the hill to meet the advancing
enemy. Immediately the invaders were seized with a panic and fled; three
hundred of them were killed in the descent, and others dangerously wounded.
Sigismund’s forces retreated to their tents, and the citizens of Prague hastened
to their churches to return thanks for their victory. The scene of this battle was
called by some Bojiste (the battlefield) in consequence of the great slaughter of

the Germans; others called it the Hill of the Cup; but the name which has driven
out every other is that which connects it with the general of the day; and it is
still known as Z̆ iz̆ kov Hora—the hill of Z̆ iz̆ ka.
It might have seemed that such a victory, however startling, would scarcely
have ended a war, begun with so great preparation, and engaged in by so
formidable an army. But the bitter feeling between the German and Bohemian
Royalists had now risen to such a height as to make common action impossible.
On the one hand, the Germans furiously accused the Bohemians of having
betrayed them in the battle; and, in revenge for this supposed treachery, they
attacked and burnt some of the houses in the outlying villages, and threw the
women and children into the fire. The Bohemians, on the other hand, were more
and more disposed to make peace with their countrymen; and it will be
remembered that some of the nobles had already shown an inclination to
Utraquism. As for Sigismund, his first and main thought was to secure the
crown of Bohemia to himself with the smallest amount of trouble.
Under these circumstances the Bohemian part of the army willingly entered
into negotiations with the defenders of the city; and the latter proposed, for
Sigismund’s acceptance, four Articles of Peace, which were to become very
famous in the following years. The first of these was the free preaching of the
Word of God; the second, the granting of the Cup to the laity; the third, the
removal of the clergy from rule in secular affairs, and their restriction to the
apostolic mode of life; the fourth was the public suppression of deadly sins.
Sigismund consented to discussion on these points between the Utraquist
preachers and the Catholic priests, who had followed his army. The leading
orator on the Utraquist side was John Pr̆ zibram, a man who was to play a
conspicuous part in the coming controversies.
Strangely enough, it was found that the Catholic clergy were willing to make
many concessions in the discussion. But the Conference broke down on a point
which may be called the main issue of the Later Reformation—the question,
namely, whether, in cases of doubt, the deciding authority should be the Church
or the Scriptures. Perhaps few could have expected that the clerical disputants
would have come to an agreement; and the Bohemian Royalists did not seem to
have been shaken by this result in their desire for peace. Indeed, such readiness
did they show to accept the Four Articles, that the citizens of Prague considered
their cause secure, and consented to elect Sigismund as their King. So on July
28, 1420, Sigismund, having given a general promise to govern better, was
solemnly crowned at Prague; and two days later the great army of Crusaders
returned, cursing the King as a breaker of his word and a favourer of heretics.

X.
FROM THE FIRST CORONATION OF SIGISMUND TO THE
OPENING OF COUNCIL OF BASEL.
(1420-1431.)

In spite of the dramatic circumstances of Sigismund’s coronation at Prague,
any hopes of peace or reconciliation, which the citizens may have entertained,
at the moment, were speedily to be frustrated, partly by the bitter divisions in
the Utraquist camp, partly by the incurably untrustworthy character of the king
whom they had chosen. The former difficulty was the one which first forced
itself on public attention. The Taborites had taken the leading part in the victory
which had just been won; and they resolved that their will should be felt in the
settlement which was to follow it. Furious at the recent burning of their friends
before the very eyes of the citizens, they demanded that these murders should
be revenged by the burning of the prisoners who had been taken in the battle;
and the rulers of the city yielded to their wishes. Elated by this success, the
Taborites insisted that twelve new Articles should be added to the four which
had been already set forth by the Calixtines. Most of these new proposals were
in the direction of more vigorous provisions for punishing self-indulgence and
immorality. But the bitter national feeling manifests itself in the demand for the
complete establishment of the law of God, in the place of those pagan and
Teutonic laws, which do not agree with the laws of God. Further, all the
revenues of the priests were to be seized for the public good; usury was to be
suppressed; all enemies of the truth to be expelled; all heretical monasteries and
all unnecessary churches, altars, and ornaments to be destroyed.
The discussion of these proposals was marked by the first public appearance
in Bohemia of a man who was to play a remarkable part in the coming struggle.
This was Peter Payne, an English Master of Arts, who had been forced to fly
from Oxford on account of his sympathy with the doctrines of Wyclif. He had
been welcomed by the scholars of Prague, and had been admitted to a Master’s
Degree at their University also. Although his doctrinal Protestantism had led
him to conclusions far beyond those adopted by any Bohemian party, yet his
English sense of justice and love of compromise often marked him out as a go-
between and moderator in the controversies of his adopted countrymen. He now

came forward to suggest the senses in which the Articles of the Taborites might
be accepted, without injury to either party. But, although the Calixtines were
anxious to find a method of reconciliation with the Taborites, the latter were
guided on this occasion by much fiercer spirits than Peter Payne.

The chief of these extreme advisers was John of Z̆ elív, who had so excited the
Utraquists, on the occasion of that first riot, when the Councillors of the New
Town were thrown out of the windows. He now demanded the deposition of
those Councillors of the Old Town who were opposed to the Taborite doctrines.
This point, too, was conceded; yet, for some reason, not clearly ascertainable,
the Taborites were still dissatisfied, and on August 22nd they left Prague.

But the second hindrance to the establishment of peace in Bohemia was to
have an even more marked effect in hastening on the new war. It was not only
the Taborites who distrusted their new ruler; Sigismund soon provoked against
him many of those who had been most desirous for peace. One of the first
points which roused their opposition, was his demand that the ornaments of the
churches and the royal treasure should be used for the payment of the foreign
soldiers, who had just been employed in the invasion of Bohemia. He also
began to renew the old and evil policy of pledging the monasteries and the royal
castles to the nobles. Lastly, although he had encouraged the citizens to hope
that he would sanction the Four Articles, he still declined to give them any
formal approval, or even to make arrangements for a discussion upon them; nor
would he give the citizens any security against the attacks of those fierce
Catholics who still held the fortresses of Prague and Vys̆ ehrad. These divisions
of opinions were obviously too vital to permit of any friendly understanding
between the two parties. So Sigismund soon after left Prague; and the
suspicions between king and people rapidly ripened to a violent solution of their
differences.
Sigismund had now adopted, to the full, the principle that no faith was to be
kept with heretics; and, while he assured the Praguer of his desire for peace, he
was appealing to the Pope and the electors to join a second crusade for the
suppression of the heretics. The citizens first fully realised the treacherous
character of Sigismund’s policy when they began to renew their attacks on the
Vys̆ ehrad. The possession of this fortress by the Catholics was a continual
danger to the city; yet, when the Utraquists sent their next deputation to
Sigismund, to entreat its acceptance of the Four Articles, he demanded that,
even before the Articles should be discussed, the citizens of Prague should
abandon their siege of the Vys̆ ehrad. This demand received a still more startling
interpretation a short time after, when the Town Council intercepted a letter
from the king to the defenders of the fortress, urging them to make a sudden
attack on the city, which he would second from another point.
With some difficulty the citizens now persuaded Nicholaus of Hus to bring a
force of the Taborites to their help. The king had secretly arranged to send ships
down the Moldau to the defence of the Vys̆ ehrad; and the citizens had put
chains across the island which lies below the fortress, so as to hinder the ships
from passing. Nicholaus was set to guard this island; but not even the sense of a
common danger could stifle the differences between the Calixtine leaders and
the captains of the Taborites. The Royalists, in their fear of starvation, offered to
surrender the Vys̆ ehrad, if the king did not relieve them within a certain time.

This proposal the citizens were willing to accept; but Nicholaus was so
indignant at the terms granted to the garrison, that he abandoned the island and
retired into the city. A nobleman, named Hynek of Crus̆ ina, now undertook the
defence of the city; and when Sigismund again arrived before it, he found it
fortified against him.
Again, the division in his camp between the native nobles and his Hungarian
and German followers speedily showed itself. Some Moravian barons advised
him to abandon the attack, and frankly owned that they feared the flails of the
rustics. Sigismund, whose sympathies were becoming more and more alienated
from his countrymen, taunted the Moravians with cowardice and treachery.
They thereupon sprang from their horses and declared that they were ready to
go where the king would never be. Sigismund then ordered them to occupy a
dangerous and marshy position on the low land in front of the city, while the
Hungarians were to charge from a higher point. This double attack was at first
successful, for the Utraquists fled in some confusion. But Hynek rallied their
forces, telling them that the Lord would deliver their enemies into their hands.
He and Nicholaus of Hus rushed forward gallantly with the others; and once
more the fear of the flails of the rustics caused a panic among the Catholics.
About five hundred of the Royalists were either killed or wounded, and the rout
was complete. Then the men of Vys̆ ehrad consented to surrender. But though
their captors succeeded in conveying them safely into Prague, they could not
save the church organs and images in the fortress from being destroyed by the
crowd.
The war now raged fiercely on both sides; but while, in matters of physical
cruelty, the Bohemians were as reckless as their opponents, on two important
points there was a marked difference between the conduct of the rival armies. In
the first place, the stern morality of the Utraquist leaders prevented any of those
outrages on women in which the Hungarian soldiers freely indulged; and,
secondly, the doctrine that no faith should be kept with heretics produced an
utter unscrupulousness on the Imperialist side, in the observance of terms of
truce or surrender, which cannot certainly be alleged, in the same degree,
against the Bohemian leaders.
Yet, in the middle of their desperate struggle for national existence against
German and Hungarian, the Calixtines and Taborites could not be induced to
suspend their internal quarrels. Z̆ iz̆ ka, indeed, desired at first to adopt a more
conciliatory policy than was customary with his colleagues; and he persuaded
the Taborites to act with the citizens of Prague in offering the crown of Bohemia
to the King of Poland. But even he soon felt compelled to adopt a more

aggressive line of action; for the Calixtines had been so alarmed at the power of
John of Z̆ elív, that they had prohibited the further introduction of novelties in
doctrine, and had deposed those Councillors of the Old Town who had been
elected under the influence of John. Z̆ iz̆ ka was so alarmed at these proceedings,
that he abandoned a siege which he was conducting in a distant part of
Bohemia, and marched against the fortress of R̆ íc̆ an, which was in the near
neighbourhood of Prague.
This fortress had long been a danger to the citizens; but they were perfectly
well aware that Z̆ iz̆ ka’s present motive for marching against it was a desire to
control the deliberations of the Town Councillors. Hynek of Crus̆ ina was so
indignant at Z̆ iz̆ ka’s conduct that he threw up the captaincy of Prague, and not
long after adopted the cause of Sigismund. Z̆ iz̆ ka had his usual good success in
the siege; but there is at least a doubt whether his proceedings were marked by
his usual good faith. The Calixtine leaders had promised to spare the lives of the
defenders of the fortress if they would surrender; yet, after the surrender was
completed, Z̆ iz̆ ka burnt alive nine of the priests whom he found in the garrison.
But neither the undoubted cruelty nor the possible treachery of this proceeding
could prevent Z̆ iz̆ ka’s victory from producing the desired effect on the
Calixtines; and they now consented to admit the Taborites to a free discussion
of the points of difference between them and their rivals.
This discussion had at least one advantage. It showed clearly what was the
point which the Taborites looked upon as the vital difference between
themselves and the Calixtines. For, when the Masters of the Prague University
brought forward a long list of subjects of controversy, one of the Taborite
leaders complained that they had not come there to discuss all those points; but
that they simply wished for a decision on the question whether they should or
should not wear special vestments at the performance of the Mass. Jakaubek of
Kladrau consented to limit the discussion to this one point; and, although no
resolution was arrived at, the Taborites clearly saw that the majority in Prague
were against them. The fierce spirit of fanaticism, which had already led the
Taborites into such excesses, now roused them to fury against the Calixtines;
and in one town, at least, they proclaimed that any priest who was found
wearing a special dress at the celebration of the Mass, should be burned alive in
his vestments.
But this dangerous division between the thinking and the fighting forces of
the Utraquist party was checked by two events which were both of considerable
importance in the history of the movement. The first of these was the death of
Nicholaus of Hus, who was thrown from his horse as he was leaving Prague.

This death naturally threw more power into the hands of Z̆ iz̆ ka; and he had
always felt, much more strongly than Nicholaus, the necessity of maintaining
the alliance with the Calixtine rulers of Prague. The other event, which drew the
more moderate men of the two parties together, was the outbreak of a new
division in the ranks of the Taborites themselves.
That a body, with the origin, constitution, and mode of life which have been
already described, should develop new and unexpected phases of thought, might
have been guessed from the beginning of the movement; but that the particular
doctrine now broached should have caused division among any section of the
Utraquists must sound very strange to modern ears. In any revolt against
excessive priestly power, one would have expected that such a doctrine as
Transubstantiation would have been the first to be attacked. Yet, while both
Calixtines and Taborites were fiercely denouncing the civil power of the clergy,
while they were attacking every outward badge which seemed to separate the
clergy from the laity, they had yet shrunk with horror from any attack on the
doctrine of Transubstantiation. When, then, Martinek Hauska, a leading
Taborite preacher, began to denounce this doctrine, he roused the fiercest
opposition among his Taborite colleagues; and two of their more learned
members wrote, in February, 1421, to Jakaubek of Kladrau and John Pr̆ zibram,
to consult them about the best means for opposing this heresy. The answer to
that question was only too easily given; for, while each party disagreed with
every other on the definition of heresy, there was a striking unanimity about the
right method of dealing with it when defined. So, while the Calixtines burnt one
of the preachers of the new doctrine in Prague, the Taborites, doubtless finding
them too numerous for such treatment, forcibly expelled them from Tabor.
Deserted and repudiated by all their neighbours, these unfortunate exiles
wandered about in the woods, till their destitute condition, acting on their
already excited fancy, drove them into a state of partial insanity. They plucked
off their clothes, and declared that they would return to the state of innocence.
That men in such a condition would fall into acts of impurity seems highly
probable; but it would surely be unjust to believe all the rumours circulated
against people who had no opportunity of stating their own case. The main fact,
however, of their living habitually without clothes seems to be generally
admitted; it was that peculiarity which gained them their name of Adamites; and
it was on that ground that Z̆ iz̆ ka seized and burnt fifty of them. They entered the
fire smiling, declaring that they would reign that day with Christ in heaven.
While these events were weakening the opposition between the Calixtines
and the main body of the Taborites, other causes were securing still more

positive advantages to the moderate party in Prague. In April, 1421, Kutna Hora
at last fell into the hands of the joint armies of the Taborites and Calixtines; and
this victory was speedily followed by the capture of the town of Jaromír. Then
C̆ enĕk of Wartenberg, Ulric of Rosenberg, Hynek of Crus̆ ina, and other
noblemen who had revolted to Sigismund, came back to the Utraquist camp.
John of Z̆ elív seems to have been the guide and adviser of the Utraquist forces
in this campaign, and he compelled C̆ enĕk to make public confession of his
wickedness in having betrayed the castle of Prague to the king. When this
concession had been made, the nobles returned to Prague, and regained for a
time some of their old power. That power was strengthened by the speedy
capture of the castle of Prague, which up to this time had held out against the
citizens; and the acceptance by the nobles of the Four Articles seemed to
complete the reunion of parties.
On July 1, 1421, a great Assembly was held of nobles, knights, and citizens,
at which the question was discussed whether they should once more recognise
Sigismund as their king. The Moravian nobles were opposed to his deposition,
while the stricter Utraquists were equally strong against recalling him; and the
Estates at last came to a curious compromise, which was expressed in the
following words: “That they will not have Sigismund for their king unless it is
the will of God, and unless the famous Masters of Prague, the Bohemian lords,
the communities of the Taborites, the knights, soldiers, towns, and other
Bohemian communities, give their consent thereto.”
Then a Council of Representatives from all classes of the community was
chosen to manage the affairs of State while the throne was vacant. And, if there
had been anything of hesitation and compromise in the form of their decree,
there was no sign of such feeling in their answer to the envoys whom
Sigismund had sent to assert his claim to the throne. They drew up a long list of
their reasons for rejecting him as king. The first grounds of complaint were the
deaths of Hus, Jerom, and Krasa, and the encouragement which Sigismund had
given to the Crusaders against Bohemia. They then dwelt on his surrender of
Brandenburg without the consent of the Assembly; and they wound up their
indictment by denouncing his rejection of the Four Articles. Sigismund
answered this attack by again repudiating any sanction on his part to the deaths
of Hus and Jerom; by declaring himself perfectly ready to hear discussions on
the Four Articles; and, finally, by taunting the Utraquists with their burning of
priests and churches.
But, although a want of confidence in Sigismund might bind together for a
time the various sections of the Utraquist party; yet, on the other hand, the

intense distrust which the treachery of C̆ enĕk and the other nobles had caused,
could not be removed by this superficial appearance of reconciliation. John of
Z̆ elív, though he had admitted the nobles to a kind of absolution, was foremost
in mistrusting the repentance which had been accompanied with so much
humiliation. A sudden invasion of Bohemia by the Silesians produced a new
cause of distrust; for the nobles were suspected of having been very remiss in
their resistance of the invaders. This brought to a head the suspicions which had
originally been grounded on points of doctrinal difference; and the sterner
members of the Utraquist clergy declared that they had no adequate security for
the genuineness of the conversion of the nobles. John of Z̆ elív followed up this
attack by demanding the removal of all the clergy who adhered to the old ritual,
and who would not sing in Bohemian. The Town Councils consented to the
change, and John succeeded in thrusting into the vacant preacherships some
supporters even of those doctrines which had been condemned by both sections
of the Utraquist party.
But the fear of foreign invasion was once more to drive into the background
for a time the internal divisions of the Utraquist party. The fiery energy of
Martin V. had roused the electors of the Empire from the panic into which they
had been thrown by the failure of the first crusade; and the Margrave of
Meissen, the fiercest of the enemies of Bohemia, had begun a new invasion on
his own responsibility. Z̆ iz̆ ka had been recently wounded in his only sound eye;
but, at the rumour of the new attack, he at once hurried out to battle, and the
men of Meissen fled before him. The rumours of the divisions between the
nobles and the citizens had, however, encouraged the Meissener to renew their
attack; and a few successes on their part induced Frederick of Hohenzollern to
organise a second crusade among the princes of the Empire. The Bohemian
peasants fled before the advance of the new army and took refuge in the town of
Z̆ atec. So in September, 1421, an army of two thousand Imperialists marched
against Z̆ atec, and the terrified citizens began to despair of resistance.
But their anxieties and dangers came to an unexpected end. As the watchers
were gazing one day from the city walls on the camp of the enemy, their
attention was caught by a sudden glow of fire. The flame rapidly spread through
the camp, and all the tents of the enemy were consumed. To the astonished eyes
of the watchers it seemed as if a miracle had been worked on their behalf; but
the real explanation, though wonderful enough, was not connected with those
interferences with the order of nature to which conventional phraseology has
confined the name of miracle. The fact was that the Electors of the German

Empire had heard that the terrible Z̆ iz̆ ka was approaching; and so the great army
of the second crusade had burnt their tents and retreated without striking a blow.

Z̆ IZ̆ KA ON HORSEBACK AT THE HEAD OF
THE FLAIL-BEARING TABORITES.

(From an old picture copied in Dr. Toman’s
pamphlet.)

Sigismund had been absent in Hungary during this struggle, but he now
advanced at the head of a Hungarian army to Brünn (Brno), committing every
kind of barbarity on the way. It will be remembered that he had recently
announced that he had never objected to a discussion of the Four Articles. He
now summoned all the Moravian nobles before him, and threatened to put them
to death unless they would abjure all those Articles. Apparently the nobles were
not made of the same stuff as the sturdy preachers of Tabor and Prague; for,
with two exceptions, all the Utraquist nobles of Moravia consented to abandon
their creed and accept that of Sigismund.
Doubtless encouraged by this success, Sigismund marched to Kutna Hora at
the head of an army of about eight thousand men. Z̆ iz̆ ka advanced to the relief
of the town, and the townsmen themselves made a gallant defence; but some
traitor opened one of the gates to the Imperial soldiers, and the massacre which
followed on their entry made so deep an impression on the imagination of the

Bohemians, that in later ages it was compared to the Massacre of St.
Bartholomew. Z̆ iz̆ ka’s forces were now completely surrounded; and, on the
22nd of December, 1421, he found himself at the mercy of his opponents in a
bitter winter and without any possibility of obtaining food. Sigismund now
thought his victory secure; but he little knew with whom he had to deal. In spite
of cold and hunger, Z̆ iz̆ ka kept his troops firm and patient till midnight. Then,
having observed the weakest point in the royal army, he made a sudden and
unexpected dash, broke through the Royalist lines, and was soon raising new
forces and new provisions in the country. The Hungarians now scattered
themselves about, plundering and ravishing in the neighbouring villages, when,
suddenly, in January, 1422, a party of the plunderers were startled in an outlying
village by the appearance of Z̆ iz̆ ka at the head of a new army. Sigismund was
once more panic-struck. He ordered the town of Kutna Hora to be set on fire;
fastened the councillors to his carriage, and fled as fast as he could go to the
town of Deutschbrod (Nemecky Brod). Z̆ iz̆ ka, in spite of the hard frost,
followed with all his horses and baggage-waggons; and he so completely routed
Sigismund that twelve thousand of the Hungarian army were killed, and the
King never again entered Bohemia during Z̆ iz̆ ka’s life.
But, in the meantime, the divisions in Prague were reaching their height. John
the Priest (as John of Z̆ elív was now called) had, on October 19th, struck a
popular coup d’état. He had persuaded the people to depose the nobles from
office, and to choose one man as captain of the city, with four others for each
division of the town. The new Councillors, who were appointed under this
arrangement, proceeded to summon to Prague a certain John Sadlo, who had
been a zealous Utraquist, but who happened to have incurred the suspicion of
the new rulers of the town. He was promised a safe-conduct; but, on arriving in
Prague, he was seized and summarily executed. The moderate men of Prague
now felt that a stand must be made; and they called a meeting at which
Jakaubek of Kladrau and Peter Payne drew up certain Articles for the
government of the clergy. Four directors were to be chosen to regulate the
appointment to every church in Prague, and to prevent the introduction of
novelties in ritual, unless publicly justified from Scripture. John was urged by
his followers to resist this proposal; but he seems to have felt it better to give
way, and to accept the three colleagues, who were combined with him in the
administration.
But, however much such an arrangement might satisfy the champions of
Utraquist orthodoxy, it could not restore the sense of order and stability which
had been shaken by John’s overbearing proceedings, and especially by the

murder of Sadlo. C̆ enĕk of Wartenberg and other nobles again fled to
Sigismund; and, although the citizens of Prague and the Masters of the
University were far from being disposed to that course, they felt that the
security to be obtained by the presence of a King would be their best guarantee
against the encroachments of the extreme party. The King of Poland had
rejected the offer of the crown; but the Duke of Lithuania seemed more ready to
listen to the advances of the Bohemians. Apparently, however, his sympathies
arose rather from a general Slavonic feeling, and a personal dislike of
Sigismund, than from any doctrinal sympathies with the Utraquists. He had
been a comparatively recent convert to Christianity; and he had all the
consequent zeal for orthodoxy. The Calixtines assured him that they had no
desire for separation from the Romish Church, and that they did not admit the
charge of heresy. In the hope, therefore, of defeating Sigismund, and of bringing
back the Bohemians to the Catholic Church, Witold of Lithuania consented that
his nephew, Sigismund Korybut, should be sent to represent him in Bohemia.
Prince Korybut, however, insisted that, before he would enter Prague, Priest
John should be deposed from his power. Those nobles who had remained
faithful to the national cause were specially eager to carry out this
understanding. They deposed all the Councillors both in the Old and New
Town; and they arranged that each quarter should choose new Councillors for a
year, of whom none should be priests or Masters of Arts. At the same time
Has̆ ek of Waldstein was chosen chief captain of the town. But the terror which
John had excited among the nobles and richer citizens could not be removed by
these arrangements. So on March 8th two councillors were sent to John, to ask
him to come to the Town Council to consult with them. When he came, they
asked his advice about the plan of campaign, and seemed to listen respectfully.
Then they went on to urge him to make peace between the rival parties, before
they went to battle. John answered that, if they desired peace, they must not take
away houses from those to whom the Community had given them, nor must
they depose faithful servants such as the late Captain of the town. Then, whilst
they were still speaking, the burgomaster gave a sign; and the soldiers rushed in
and seized Priest John and several of his friends, took them into an outer hall,
and executed them. As soon as the people of the town heard the news, they rose
in fury, broke into the Council House, seized and beheaded the leading
Councillors, and compelled Has̆ ek of Waldstein to fly for his life.
But it seemed as if the death of John had really deprived the extreme party in
Prague of their chances of final success; for, when in May, 1422, Korybut

arrived in Prague, he was able, with apparently little trouble, to remove the
Councillors of the extreme party, and to restore the Calixtines.
For a time Korybut seemed to give new strength and coherence to the
Utraquist movement; but his reign was not of long duration. Martin V. had been
extremely alarmed at the sympathies shown in Poland and Lithuania for the
Utraquist cause; and by his orders the Polish clergy persuaded King Ladislaus
to organise a new expedition against the Utraquists, while they induced Witold
of Lithuania to recall Prince Korybut. But, though the summons for a third
crusade was sent out to Poles, Lithuanians, Swedes, and Norwegians, yet the
Pope soon found that it was easier to cajole kings than to convert peoples. Not
only did the Poles and Ruthenians refuse to serve in the crusade; but, in spite of
Ladislaus’s rebukes, they hastened to take up arms for the Bohemians; and so
the third crusade collapsed even more ignominiously than the former ones.

OLD PICTURE OF Z̆ IZ̆ KA IN HEAVEN.

(From Dr. Toman’s pamphlet.)

The fear of a foreign invasion being thus removed, the nobles resolved on a
final struggle for power with the Taborites. Z̆ iz̆ ka had reluctantly consented to
recognise Korybut as king; but the recall of the latter broke this link between
the nobles and the Taborite leader. He had resented the treacherous murder of
John of Z̆ elív; and he had special causes of his own for distrusting the leading
nobles. He himself belonged to that Order of Knights, or gentry, which was in
continual rivalry with the greater nobility; while his intense religious zeal, and
his scorn of caste, had drawn him close to the fiery peasants of Mount Tabor,

and increased his contempt for the vacillations and treacheries of C̆ enek of
Wartenberg and Ulric of Rosenberg. The struggle which now followed was a
fierce and bloody one; but it ended in the complete victory of Z̆ iz̆ ka, and the
consent of the nobles to return to the popular cause. They were the more willing
to come to terms as the King had just mortally offended Bohemian feeling by
granting the province of Moravia to Albert, Duke of Austria, and had recognised
him as his heir in Bohemia. Korybut had now escaped from his uncle and
returned to Bohemia; and, though he was no longer recognised as their legal
ruler, he was welcomed as an ally and a captain in their wars, and he marched
with the united Utraquist army into Moravia, to deliver it from Albert of
Austria. Z̆ iz̆ ka, though now completely blind, also led his forces into Moravia.
But in October, 1424, he was seized with a sudden illness and died. His death
naturally created a great sensation; and it is a proof of the substantial success of
his work that the changes which were expected to take place, in consequence of
his death, were much greater than any that actually occurred. A section, indeed,
of his more immediate personal followers did form themselves into a separate
party under the name of the “Orphans”; but though, like Z̆ iz̆ ka, they were more
moderate in their doctrines than the rest of the Taborites, they continued, for all
practical purposes, to act with the latter; nor did Sigismund find that the terror,
which the name of Hussite had inspired, had at all diminished. A married priest
named Procop rapidly rose to the position which Z̆ iz̆ ka had held; and so far was
he from slackening the zeal of his followers that he soon introduced a more
aggressive element into the warfare. Tired of remaining so long on the
defensive, he resolved that the Germans and Hungarians should feel something
of the misery which they had inflicted on Bohemia; and he began a series of
invasions of Austria, Bavaria, and Hungary, which considerably added to the
terrors which had been produced by Z̆ iz̆ ka.
Curiously enough, the changes in the Calixtine party became more noticeable
at this time than among those who seemed more likely to be affected by Z̆ iz̆ ka’s
death. Jakaubek fell at this time into the background, and John Pr̆ zibram came
more to the front. Pr̆ zibram was one of those bitter theologians who delight to
dwell on the negative side of their doctrines, rather than on those that tend to
unity and positive faith. He had been willing enough to maintain the cause of
the Four Articles of Prague against the Catholic priests; but, now that the
Catholic cause seemed lost in Prague, he began to express so offensively and
insultingly his opposition to the Taborites, that he disgusted the more moderate
men of his own party; and on Christmas Day, 1426, he demanded, in a further
discussion, that the Hussites should specially condemn the doctrines of Wyclif.

This proposal produced a definite change in the position of Peter Payne.
Although his doctrinal convictions were probably well known, yet, in the
interests of peace and order, he had hitherto been willing to co-operate with the
Calixtines in checking the excesses of the Taborites. But the attack on his
distinguished countryman, to whose writings he probably looked for guidance
more than to those of Hus, was too much for his personal and patriotic
sympathies, and he eagerly took up the cause of Wyclif. The decision of the
meeting, however, was against the English reformer; and Korybut, who shared
his uncle’s dislike to the heretical position into which the Hussites had been
forced, seized upon this resolution as a sign of their desire to return to union
with the Church. So he sent messengers to Pope Martin to assure him that this
decision represented the real feeling of the country.
But this unfortunate step, instead of producing reunion with Rome, only
called out new divisions in the Utraquist party. John Rokycana, the preacher at
the Teyn Church, heard of these negotiations; and, though a strict and zealous
Calixtine, he was a warm patriot, and by no means disposed to put either his
faith or his nation at the feet of either Emperor or Pope. So in April, 1427, he
preached an alarmist sermon warning the people that their interests were being
betrayed. The people sprang to arms; Korybut was imprisoned; and Pr̆ zibram
and several of his allies were banished from Prague. But, to prove that the
movement had a national rather than a doctrinal purpose, Rokycana and his
friends passed a resolution in favour of at least a modified form of
Transubstantiation. Thus Peter Payne was compelled to take his part with the
Taborites, while a new division was formed among the Calixtines themselves.
But in the meantime the aggressive policy of Procop had roused Martin V. to
new energy; and since Germans, Hungarians, and Poles had each in turn failed
him, he entrusted the management of a fourth crusade to an Englishman. This
was the celebrated Cardinal Beaufort, who was now appointed legate for
Bohemia, Hungary, and Germany, and under whose auspices a special Hussite
tax was raised throughout the Empire. The Margrave of Brandenburg and the
Archbishop of Trier took the leading part in the command of the army; and in
July, 1427, the new crusaders entered Bohemia and began the siege of Kladrau.
While they were almost hoping to capture the town, Procop suddenly advanced
against them at the head of the united Utraquist army. Immediately the strange
panic, which had become traditional at the approach of the Utraquists, seized
upon the enemy; and they fled to the town of Tachov, which was at that time in
their hands. Here Beaufort met them, reproached them with their cowardice,
and persuaded them to prepare for battle. But no sooner did Procop’s army

again appear in sight than the panic once more returned. Beaufort, enraged,
seized the banner of the Empire and tore it to pieces in their presence. But the
sense of fear was too strong, even for soldierly dignity; and at last the indignant
Cardinal was swept away in the flight. Several new victories followed, though
Pilsen (Plz̆ en) still held out against the Utraquist armies. Beaufort demanded
that a new anti-Hussite tax should be raised, and at the same time sent a
command to the men of Pilsen that they should abstain from a proposed
discussion with the Hussites on points of doctrine. The discussion took place
notwithstanding; and Rokycana and Peter Payne were appointed to represent the
Utraquist party.
The Cardinal might have spared his fears; for the result of the discussion was
to widen the gulf, not between the Catholics and the Utraquists, but between the
Calixtines and the Taborites. This led to other discussions between the two
Utraquist parties, of so fierce a kind that it seemed as if their enemies might
almost succeed in profiting by their divisions. But those enemies were now
becoming thoroughly exhausted. The raids of Procop had brought home to
Germans and Hungarians the danger of provoking the Bohemians too far; while
among many of the German citizens the question was beginning to be asked,
whether a cause which enabled untrained peasants to strike terror into the best
armies of Europe was not perhaps the cause of God. Under these circumstances
the cry for a Church Council to settle these matters by discussion, rather than by
force of arms, was becoming general, and, much as the Pope loathed such an
idea, he found the ground cut from under his feet by the desertion of his most
sturdy supporter. The war between France and England had suddenly received a
new turn by the appearance of Joan of Arc; and Cardinal Beaufort’s anxiety for
the success of his country decided him on the desperate step of employing the
money and men whom he had raised to fight against Bohemia in the war against
France. Alarmed as the Pope and his friends were at this sudden desertion, they
hoped for a time that the wonderful Maid might herself take up their cause
against the heretics. But when this hope was cut short by her defeat and
imprisonment, the cry for a Council became again strong, and Martin was even
told that, if he sincerely desired to put down the Hussites, he would prove it by
granting the discussion.

CHODI BOHEMIAN PEASANTS OF THE BAVARIAN BORDER.

The fiery Pope, however, was determined to make one last appeal to arms;
and this time he chose an Italian cardinal, Giuliano Cesarini, to organise a
crusade. Before the crusade could start, Martin V. died; but Cesarini was as
determined as the Pope had been on leading the expedition to its triumph. The
Margrave of Brandenburg was again appointed commander, though the
suspicions which his previous flight had caused were so great, that the Cardinal
and the Electors insisted on checking his power by a Council of Nine.
Sigismund declared his approval of the crusade, and then wrote to Prague to
assure the citizens of his desire for peace.

In the meantime Procop had rallied his forces and advanced to the borders of
Bavaria; but they waited so long for the enemy that their food began to fail, and
some of the troops dropped off to forage for supplies. The Germans, encouraged
by this laxity, once more advanced to the town of Tachov. The Cardinal desired
them to storm the town; but the generals decided to delay the attack; and the
townsmen succeeded in so well fortifying the town that the German army
abandoned the siege, and finally retreated to Taus (Domaz̆ lic̆ e). In the meantime
the Bohemians had collected their forces, and on Aug. 14, 1431, they advanced
towards Domaz̆ lic̆ e, singing one of their favourite hymns, “Kdoz̆ jste Boz̆ i
bojovnici”—“Ye who are the soldiers of the Lord.” The Cardinal went up the
hill to consult the Duke of Saxony about the arrangements of the battle, when
suddenly he observed a strange confusion, and heard loud cries in the camp of
the Margrave of Brandenburg. Soon after, Frederick himself came hastily to
him, to tell him that his army was in full flight and could not be checked. The
panic quickly spread; and this time it was so complete, that even the waggons
and firearms were left behind; while among the spoil the Bohemians had the
satisfaction of finding, not only the coat and crucifix of Cardinal Cesarini, but
even the Papal Bull sanctioning the crusade against Bohemia. So ended the fifth
and last attempt to crush out the Hussite heresy by force; and it was now to be
tried whether the Doctors of the Church could succeed in convincing the
heretics who could not be conquered by the sword.

XI.
FROM THE OPENING OF THE COUNCIL OF BASEL TO THE
FALL OF TABOR.
(1437-1452.)

The Council of Basel seemed to many to be the natural result of the Council
of Constance. The conception of a constitutional check on the power of the
Popes, and of a better provision for the orderly government of the Church, was
an idea which had become familiar to the leading theologians of Europe during
the bitter ecclesiastical divisions of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. And it
must be remembered that, however unsatisfactory the results of the Council of
Constance may seem to us, the dignity of its members and the apparent vigour
of its action left a very different impression on the minds of many of its
contemporaries. It had succeeded in deposing and electing Popes; it had burnt
the heretics whom it had condemned; it had found princes ready to enforce its
decrees by fire and sword. And if that last exercise of its power had ended in
failure and disgrace, it might be plausibly urged that the greater part of the war
which it had initiated had been carried on after the dissolution of the Council
itself; and it was held therefore by many that the summoning of a similar
Council would revive an influence in Europe more capable than the Pope’s of
crushing out heresy and restoring power to the Church. It was just this
consciousness of the popular expectation from the new Council which
strengthened the opposition of Martin V. to the demand for its convocation. He
may, no doubt, have honestly believed that his personal initiative was more
likely to produce the desired effect on the crusaders than the necessarily divided
counsels of a large body of princes and clergy. But at the same time he was very
anxious that the experiment should not be tried of setting up so dangerous a
rival to the Papal authority.
For the time, however, the feeling of the orthodox world seemed, with few
exceptions, to be overwhelmingly opposed to his; and, even before his death,
the Council of Basel had already begun its deliberations. But, from an early
stage in the preparations for the Council, a very different conception had been
put forward of the purposes for which it might be used. The Utraquists had from
the first maintained that they had not had a fair hearing before the Council of

Constance; and their early victories had roused a hope that some less partial
tribunal might give them that opportunity of discussion of which they had been
defrauded. In the dispute after the battle of the Z̆ iz̆ ka Hill, they had had a taste
of those delights of argument for which they hungered; and the later victories of
Z̆ iz̆ ka had induced Ulric of Rosenberg to demand, and Sigismund to promise,
that even the Taborites should have their share in such a discussion.
In 1427 even Frederick of Brandenburg and Cardinal Beaufort had actually
prepared the way for a meeting which was to afford opportunities for doctrinal
discussion; and, though Pope Martin was able at that time to prohibit the
proposed conference, the Utraquists did not lose sight of the prospect then held
out to them. But, though this conception of the more pacific purpose to which a
Council might be turned, naturally induced the Utraquists to listen with some
interest and hope to the arrangements for the meeting at Basel, that hope was
strongly mixed with fear and suspicion. To them, at least, the memories of
Constance brought nothing but bitterness and loathing; and the evident hostility
of those who were calling for the Council, led them to doubt whether their
experiences of Basel would be likely to be any more satisfactory than the
unforgotten wrongs of Constance. But, above all other causes of discontent, was
their ever-deepening distrust of the promises of Sigismund; and at no time had
that distrust been more fully justified.
New promises for a fair hearing were despatched by him almost
simultaneously with preparations for a new war; and concessions of the most
hopeful kind were continually explained away. Even the great overthrow of the
last crusade did not bring to an end the fierce desire of Sigismund to re-establish
his power by force of arms; and the Duke of Bavaria and the Count Palatine of
the Rhine were eager to second his efforts in a cause which most men now
recognised as hopeless.
But the growing desire for peace was now increased by a terrible fear. The
rulers of Europe remembered that desire to throw off the power of their
predecessors, which had shown itself among the peasantry of Europe after the
failure of the crusades in the thirteenth century; and which had been renewed
after the overthrow of the French nobles by the English invaders of the
fourteenth. This same feeling was now again apparent; and this time the hopes
which accompanied it were evidently based on more reasonable grounds. That
the Saracen generals should defeat the armies of Louis IX., or that the English
nobles should overthrow the French at Crecy and Poictiers, might be convincing
arguments of the weakness of the defeated parties; but they did not necessarily
prove that those who yielded to such opponents, would succumb to the attacks

of an untrained peasantry. Now, however, for twelve years past, the peasantry of
Bohemia, armed mainly with their thrashing flails, had repeatedly put to flight
the greatest armies of Europe, and overawed their own nobility. Surely such an
example might give to the peasants of Germany and France some hope that a
time was coming in which they too might be the equals of their oppressors! In
the South of France the French peasantry rose in large numbers, demanding that
the nobles should, for the future, be content to earn their bread by the sweat of
their brow, and declaring that two priests were all that were required for the
spiritual needs of the country. In Dauphiné collections were made on behalf of
the Bohemians; while in the Rhine district three thousand peasants near Bonn
and Speier declared their determination to overthrow the power of the clergy
and nobles. Under these circumstances, there was a general cry that, if the
Council did not come to terms with the Hussites, the peasant insurrection would
spread throughout Europe.
Nor, on the other hand, were there wanting strong reasons why the
Bohemians, on their side, should be eager for a peaceable settlement. On them
had fallen the main misery of the war; and it is a curious fact that, in spite of
their brilliant successes on the battlefield, much of their country was still in the
hands of the enemy. Not only was the greater part of Moravia held down by
Albert of Austria, but, in Bohemia itself, the strong fortress of Carlstein, and the
important towns of Budweis (Budejóvice), Pilsen (Plz̆ en), and Eger (Cheb), still
held out against the Utraquists. Moreover, the discontent with the power which
Procop had gained by his victories, was working among the more moderate
section of the Utraquists in favour of a settlement in which learned men should
have more power than soldiers.
Under these circumstances, an understanding was at last brought about; and,
in January, 1433, the representatives of the Bohemians arrived in Basel. There
seem to have been some five, or possibly six, Utraquists who had been chosen
to represent their party; but the burden of the discussion, at any rate, fell upon
four people, who were each entrusted with the defence of one of the Articles of
Prague. The most important of these champions, and the one who was to gain
most credit by the discussion, was, beyond all question, John Rokycana. He had
been steadily advancing in reputation, both as a learned disputant and as a
moderate and judicious leader. The teacher from whom he had derived his
strongest convictions was Jakaubek of Kladrau; and he had, as it were, inherited
from him a special devotion to the practice of Communion in both kinds.
Rokycana, like Hus, had had great struggles with poverty in acquiring his early
education; and, though his doctrines naturally connected him with the Calixtine

section of the Utraquists, his obscure origin, combined with his strong will and
individuality of character, often brought him out of sympathy with the
aristocratic patrons of the movement.

JOHN ROKYCANA.

His first public action had been an attempt to make terms between the
citizens of Prague and Z̆ iz̆ ka, in the last year of Z̆ iz̆ ka’s struggle with the nobles,
and he induced the latter to abandon an attack upon the city. His next prominent
appearance had been of a less pacific kind; for it was connected with his
vehement opposition to the attempt of Prince Korybut to make terms with
Sigismund. Though, however, on that occasion, Rokycana had been the chief
promoter of the arrest of Korybut, Pr̆ zibram, and other champions of
compromise; yet he had steadily exerted himself to prevent bloodshed in the
collision between the two parties; and he had afterwards encouraged
arrangements for the bringing back of the Calixtine priests who had been
expelled during the struggles. Since the death of Jakaubek, Rokycana seems to

have divided the leadership of the Utraquist clergy of Prague with the
Englishman, Peter Payne.
Payne, as has been already pointed out, belonged, in doctrine, to the extremer
section of the Utraquists; but by his moderate policy he had often been drawn
into sympathy with the Calixtines. Since the death of Z̆ iz̆ ka, he seems to have
been frequently identified with that party of Orphans who claimed to represent,
more exactly than the other Taborites, the policy of their leader. This choice of
colleagues contributed still further to distinguish Payne from the main body of
those who agreed with his doctrines; and lastly, the peculiarity of his position
was increased by that reputation for learning which was always an object of
suspicion to the peasant soldiers of Tabor.
The other two Utraquist delegates at the Council of Basel were entirely
representative of the Taborite party. One was Nicholaus of Pilgram (Pelhr̆ imov),
the “Bishop,” as he was called, of the Taborites; and the other was Procop the
Great, the successor of Z̆ iz̆ ka on the battlefield. Procop, though less cruel than
Z̆ iz̆ ka, had a more exclusive faith in physical force; and he was less interested in
questions of statesmanship, or details of doctrine; but, as the most successful
general in the religious wars, he could not be passed over in the election of
representatives.
On January 4, 1433, the Bohemian delegates entered Basel, accompanied by
a troop of three hundred horsemen. A great crowd came out to meet them; and
the windows were full of people of all ages and both sexes, who gazed with
astonishment on the strange dresses of their visitors; while those who were
determined to assist their eyes by their imagination, discovered that these
terrible heretics had repulsive faces and cruel eyes. To most of the spectators the
chief object of interest was the famous general, Procop; and all strained their
eyes to get a glimpse of the man whose very name had become so great a terror
to the armies of the Empire.
Foremost among those who hastened to welcome the strangers was Cardinal
Julian Cesarini; and it must be owned that few men ever had a more difficult
part to play, or played it with more consummate tact and success. It required
some courage to claim the position of impartial arbitrator, where one of the
parties to the cause was a body of men against whom he had recently
proclaimed a destructive crusade; nor could it be altogether gratifying to him to
face in discussion men who had won their right to a hearing by putting him to
an ignominious flight. Added to these considerations, was the further difficulty
that, while he heartily desired the success of the Council, he took part in its

proceedings as the representative of a Pope who had denounced it, and who
wished to dissolve it. But the Cardinal was unusually well supplied with that
graceful tact and ready wit which so distinguishes his countrymen. He resigned
the formal presidency of the Council in deference to the Pope’s opposition; yet
he not only remained in the city, but even managed by timely interventions to
gain as much control over the proceedings of the Council as if he were still its
official chief. With regard to the Bohemian delegates, he evidently set before
himself, from the first, two objects, both of which he, in some measure,
accomplished. He was determined that the Council should pass off peaceably,
and that the Bohemians should have no cause to complain that they had failed to
obtain a fair hearing; but he was equally resolved that, if concessions should be
made to the heretics, those concessions should be, indirectly, a means of
weakening the Utraquist cause. With the keen eye of a diplomatist, he at once
noted the points of division between his opponents, and the best means of
making use of them. Friendly as was his bearing towards all the representatives
of the Bohemians, the one whom he singled out for peculiar attention and
flattery was Procop; and the determination which he showed to bring him and
his friends to the front betrays a purpose which it is not difficult to understand.
On January 10, 1433, the Council gathered in the Dominican cloister at
Basel, to receive their new guests. To most of the orthodox Councillors it must
have seemed a most humiliating moment when those, whom they had hoped to
exterminate as heretics, were admitted to argue on equal terms, in defence of the
orthodoxy of their doctrines. But Cesarini was equal to the occasion; he
welcomed the Bohemians as at last returning to the bosom of their mother
Church; and, while promising them a fair hearing, managed to emphasise the
principle that the authority of Councils and of Fathers of the Church must be
accepted as guides in the settlement of points of faith.
Rokycana answered by admitting that the Councils and Fathers would have
their due weight with his friends; but he maintained, at the same time, that the
Council of Constance had condemned their doctrines without a hearing. On
their part, they were prepared to confirm all their doctrines by reference to the
Gospels and the other sacred writings; they came to prove their innocence in the
presence of the whole Church; and they asked that they should have a fair
hearing before laymen as well as clergymen. The Utraquists were then asked
what points they wished to discuss in which they differed from the practice of
the Romish Church. They answered by enumerating the Four Prague Articles.
Cesarini now saw his opportunity, and he at once asked the Utraquist
representatives if there were not other doctrines which had been specially put

forth by them; for instance, he had heard it said that they believed the
Mendicant Orders to have been founded by the devil. Procop immediately
sprang up, and exclaimed that that was perfectly true; for, since these Orders
were not founded by Moses, the Patriarchs, or the Prophets, nor yet by Christ,
they must have been founded by the devil. This extraordinary argument was
naturally received with laughter in the Council; but Cesarini insisted on treating
it as serious, and met it by an elaborate refutation.
On the 16th of January, Rokycana opened his speech in defence of the
granting of the Cup to the laity. While grounding his argument largely on the
custom of the primitive Church, he yet fortified it by reference to decisions of
Councils; and he asked whether any Council, before that of Constance, had ever
condemned the practice as heretical.
His speech produced a deep impression, even on his opponents; but the effect
was somewhat weakened when, a few days later, Nicholaus, the Bishop of
Pilgram (Pelhr̆ imov), opened the discussion on the second Prague Article,
namely, the punishment by the Church of offences against morality. He quickly
passed into attacks on the priesthood for the neglect of their duties, and became
so fierce that he caused a disturbance in the Assembly; so that Rokycana
afterwards rebuked his colleague for his intemperate language.
A less prominent delegate, Oldr̆ ich of Znojem, was entrusted with the defence
of the doctrine of the free preaching of the Word; and the Fourth Article, on the
civil dominion of the clergy, was treated by Peter Payne. Payne had always
impressed his opponents with the subtlety of his arguments; but he must
somewhat have embarrassed his colleagues by a defence of the doctrines of
Wyclif; and, particularly by that claim of the English Reformer that the
temporal lords might, in some circumstances, take away the property of the
clergy. It was, however, among his own countrymen that Payne’s appearance
excited the most irritation; and several of them sprang up to attack him, not only
as a condemned heretic, but as a traitor to King Henry VI. The hubbub at last
became so great that he was forced to end his argument by handing in a written
paper. Then followed the champions of orthodoxy; and very bitter was the
feeling provoked by the attacks of John of Ragusa upon the Bohemian nation,
as a whole. Cesarini exerted himself to restore order; but he again insisted that
the Bohemians should express their opinions, not only on the Four Articles of
Prague, but on the Twenty-four Articles of the Taborites, which involved a
modified denial of Transubstantiation, and the rejection of many doctrines and
rites accepted by the main body of the Utraquists.

The division of opinion, called out by this demand of the Cardinal, tended to
weaken the order and decorum of the proceedings, and yet further increased the
disturbance; and the orthodox critics of the debates began to demand how it was
that the Council had failed as yet to convert the heretics, and to suggest that it
would be better to resort to the former method of the sword. The delegates
themselves gradually grew tired of the discussion, and desired to return to
Bohemia. Even those Councillors who were most anxious for the success of the
Council felt that the bitterness, which had arisen, prevented the hope of any
useful conclusion in Basel; so, by way of compromise, it was at last decided
that Rokycana and his colleagues should return to Prague; but that delegates
from the Council should be sent to continue the conference in that city. Thus
ended the first stage of the discussion; and, while Rokycana returned to
influence affairs in the capital, Procop hastened back to renew the often-
attempted siege of Pilsen.
It now became clear that the divisions, which had been so carefully fostered
between the Calixtines and the Taborites, were ready to break out into a
dangerous flame. On the one hand, Meinhard of Neuhaus, one of the few nobles
who had remained partially faithful to the Utraquist cause, called together a
meeting of his supporters, and urged them to shake off the yoke of Procop, and
to choose a captain from the ranks of the poorer nobility, who should carry on
the government with the help of a Council. On the other hand, Lupus, a priest of
the Taborites, stirred up the inhabitants of the New Town against Rokycana and
his friends, and exhorted them to refuse submission to the newly-elected
Captain. Nor did the arrival of the ambassadors from Basel tend to lessen this
bitterness; for though they held out hopes of concessions to the Calixtines, they
fanned the flame of division between them and the Taborites; and, about the
time of their return to Basel, friendly messengers came to Pilsen to urge the
Catholics to stand firm, as their victory was approaching.
Indeed, so successfully had the work of division been done, that the
ambassadors had found the means of discrediting Rokycana himself with many
of the Calixtines, and of bringing to the front the old party of Pr̆ zibram, which
had been out of favour ever since the time of Prince Korybut. The wedge which
they used to make this split was sufficiently ingenious. They proposed that the
Communion in both kinds should be allowed to those who wished it; but that
the Communion in one kind should be left, in those churches where it was
preferred. To modern thinkers, no doubt, such a compromise would seem the
ideal settlement; but to those who had been struggling, for so many years,
against the invaders who were trying to crush out these practices, it seemed as if

such a concession would only sow the seeds of fresh bitterness. Such a
compromise, said Rokycana, Wenceslaus IV. had attempted; and the attempt had
ended in a bitter fight, in which one party had expelled the other. There was
much force in Rokycana’s arguments; but it was easy to represent him as an
opponent of reasonable liberty, and (a charge which was more telling at that
moment) as a hinderer of peaceable union.
But, in the meantime, the siege of Pilsen was making such progress that the
Catholics and moderate Utraquists began to fear that the victory, which seemed
almost within their grasp, might be taken from them after all; and Sigismund
wrote to Ulric of Rosenberg that the Taborites were actually preparing to send a
special embassy of their own to Basel; and that, unless the Calixtines would go
to Pilsen, to hinder the progress of Procop, the Council of Basel would after all
be compelled to make concessions to the extreme party. While things were in
this state, Procop suddenly received news in his camp that the bitterness
between the two parties in Prague had at last led to a final outbreak. The
Taborites of the New Town had resolved to resist the authority of the newly
elected Captain, and had fortified their division of Prague against him;
whereupon Meinhard of Neuhaus had suddenly stormed the New Town and put
the Taborites to the sword. Thereupon Procop at once resolved to abandon the
siege of Pilsen, and to call on all the Taborites to follow him to Prague.
Meinhard rallied his forces for the defence; and the two armies met on the 30th
of May, 1434, near the town of Lipaný.
The Taborites followed the plan, so often adopted by Z̆ iz̆ ka, of fortifying their
camp by an arrangement of their baggage waggons. From behind these they
threw shells into the camp of the enemy, which so irritated the soldiers that they
called on the nobles to lead them to the attack. The nobles, however, were
resolved to accomplish their purposes by stratagem. The inferior troops were
placed in the front, with orders to give way at the first attack. The Taborites fell
into that trap; and, seeing the enemy, as they supposed, flying before them, they
left their entrenchments and pursued them. The picked troops of the nobles then
rushed forward, seized on the deserted waggons, and attacked the Taborites in
the rear. The supposed fugitives, at the same time, turned upon their pursuers;
the Taborite army, surrounded on all sides, was cut to pieces; and Procop and
the other leaders died, fighting to the last.
The immediate results of the battle of Lipaný were of two kinds. One of the
chief objects of Meinhard of Neuhaus and his friends had been to pave the way
for negotiations with Sigismund, and this object they at once obtained; but the
conduct of the negotiations was not altogether left to those who had been the

chief promoters of division. The death of Procop and of his immediate followers
had given an opportunity to the more moderate party of the Orphans to come to
the front; and, as C̆ apek, the leading general of the Orphans, was now the most
prominent military leader among the advanced section of the Utraquists, the
change naturally led to a removal of many of the differences which had so
weakened the common cause. C̆ apek carried on the policy of Z̆ iz̆ ka in the matter
of maintaining an alliance with those of the Calixtines who were sincerely
zealous for their country and their faith.
The man who most embodied that cause, in the eyes of the general body of
Bohemian patriots, was undoubtedly Rokycana; and thus he found that his
position had been greatly strengthened, for the time, by the apparent victory of
his opponents. While, therefore, the leaders of the Assembly were able to
organise a deputation to Sigismund, of which Meinhard of Neuhaus was the
chief leader, the terms which the deputation offered were considerably coloured
by the feeling of Rokycana and his friends; for, on the one hand, they decided to
insist on many doctrines and rites which were condemned by the Taborites; and
on the other hand, they demanded a strict enforcement of the Four Articles.
They even proposed that no one should be received into the city who did not
communicate in both kinds; that the king should admit no one into his Councils
who did not observe the same rule; and that, if any community was oppressed
by the Emperor or his officials on account of Utraquism, they should have the
right of meeting force by force. It was impossible to suppose that Sigismund
would accept terms of this kind, in so crude a form; but his growing eagerness
to recover his crown made him extremely willing to enter into the discussion.
He would, indeed, have been glad to base his claim on grounds independent
of the religious controversy; and he even ventured to appeal to the Bohemians
to accept him out of respect to his father’s memory, and to remember that his
grandmother was a Bohemian princess, descended from the old ploughman
king, Pr̆ emysl. At the same time he remonstrated so sharply with the delegates
of Basel on the slowness of their proceedings, and the quibbling of their
arguments, that they began to fear that he would drift away into complete
opposition to the Council. They, therefore, urged on both parties the acceptance
of an understanding which had been already put into shape in Basel. This
compromise involved the acceptance of the Four Articles, under certain
conditions; the most important of which were that the Communion in both kinds
should only be allowed to those who admitted the complete presence of Christ
in the Sacrament; and that, with regard to the punishment of public sins, the
clergy should only be permitted to deal with the offences of their own Order.

But Rokycana complained that these and other modifications required further
explanation; and, on the other hand, the Basel delegates were alarmed at a
proposal put forward by their opponents that no Bohemian should be
summoned before any foreign tribunal, whether secular or spiritual.
All difficulties, however, gave way before Sigismund’s inexhaustible power
of lying; for, when the delegates found that his promises and concessions had no
real meaning, they began to calculate that, if he were restored, he must rely
mainly on the Catholics and the Pr̆ zibram party, and therefore would find his
interest in breaking his word to the Utraquists, and maintaining it towards the
Catholics. But, perhaps, neither Sigismund nor the delegates of Basel were quite
prepared for the result of one concession which the King was induced to make.
The Archbishop and two suffragan bishops were, according to the proposals of
the Assembly, to be elected by representatives of all classes. A Council of
Sixteen was chosen for this purpose; and they secretly fixed upon Rokycana as
Archbishop of Prague. As soon as this election became known, the Emperor and
the representatives of Basel were deeply offended at their choice; but
Sigismund, as usual, succeeded in evading a direct reply; and, in their zeal for
union, the Bohemians consented, for a moment, to overlook this evasion. So on
the 14th of August, 1436, Sigismund was once again formally accepted as king
by the representatives of all classes, the three towns of Königgrätz (Sadova),
Mies (Kladrau), and Kolin alone refusing to admit his claim.
It soon became evident that the King’s acceptance of the Compacts of Basel,
and of all the limitations of his power, had been nominal. He speedily dismissed
from office the most zealous Calixtines, and encouraged the growth of Catholic
ritual. With regard to Rokycana, the King again found a means of evading any
direct action. Philibert, Bishop of Coutances, had come to Prague as one of the
representatives of the Council of Basel; and, in consideration of his rank and
position, he was allowed to perform the duties which should have been
entrusted to the Archbishop of Prague. At the same time the King made a formal
appeal to the Council of Basel to confirm Rokycana’s election; but he advised
them secretly to find excuses for delay in answering this appeal.
Rokycana was not the man to conciliate a prince like Sigismund. He
observed with alarm the disreputable courtiers who had gathered round the
King; and he soon began to denounce the gambling, profligacy, and
drunkenness which were beginning to reappear in the city. It will be
remembered that Rokycana had, from the first, prophesied an evil result from
the compromise with the Council of Basel; and he now experienced the truth of
his own prediction. Mutual recriminations were exchanged between Philibert

and himself; each charging the other with violating the Compacts, and enforcing
their special form of ritual in a manner contrary to the agreement.
The Praguer soon showed their indignation at the treatment which their
elected Archbishop had received; and they indignantly demanded that their
nomination should be accepted. Sigismund, however, was now being drawn by
his supporters into a complete Catholic reaction. Monasteries and friaries were
restored; and ecclesiastical property, which had passed into other hands, was re-
demanded. This was a violation, in spirit at least, of the understanding on which
Sigismund had been allowed to return. Rokycana’s denunciations grew fiercer
than before; and Sigismund answered them by threats which induced the
preacher to believe that his life was in danger; so he at last sought safety in
flight.
If Sigismund had behaved treacherously and violently towards the leaders of
the Calixtines, he was equally faithless in his dealings with the Taborites. The
determined opposition which they had offered to him on his first return to the
kingdom, had compelled him to make concessions in order to secure their
allegiance; and he had promised that they should be allowed the use of their
own ritual, for six years, without any disturbance; and that they should also be
permitted to choose six Councillors for the government of their town. Doubtless
the King had at once looked forward to an opportunity for breaking these
promises; but, when they first returned to Prague, it seemed possible to weaken
the Taborites by the milder process of stirring up division between them. Soon
after the battle of Lipaný, Rokycana had submitted to Peter Payne the question
whether Wyclif and Hus had ever held the Taborite doctrines on the seven
sacraments and the invocation of saints, and other subjects of dispute. Payne
delayed his answers to these questions; and Sigismund found the matter still
unsettled on his arrival. He, therefore, peremptorily demanded that the required
opinion should at once be given. Payne, thereupon, candidly replied that he
could not discover any evidence of the acceptance of these Taborite doctrines by
Wyclif or Hus; but that, nevertheless, he (Peter Payne) was prepared to support
those doctrines. The answer was a dangerous one; for, while it emphasised the
difference between Payne and the Calixtines, it provoked a fierce denunciation
from the Taborite Bishop of Pilgram (Pelhr̆ imov), who was indignant that his
party should be deprived of the protection of two such honoured names. But,
though Sigismund might have found it more natural to accomplish the fall of his
enemies by sowing division among them, Bishop Philibert, and his colleagues
from Basel, required more peremptory measures. So Sigismund once more

broke his promises, and threatened to trample out the Taborites with fire and
sword.
These repeated acts of duplicity naturally alienated from him many of those
who had at first been disposed to support him; and when a man named John
Rohac set up a fortress on Mount Sion and denounced the King and his policy,
the Assembly of Bohemia actually refused to vote funds for suppressing the
insurgents; and they told the King that he might march against Rohac at his own
cost. Rohac, indeed, was suppressed after a short struggle; but his example was
imitated by many nobles and citizens; and Sigismund at last left Prague in
disgust and disappointment and retired into Moravia. He seems to have had
some intention of again betaking himself to Basel, partly to hinder the growing
quarrel between the Pope and the Council, partly, no doubt, to secure the help of
both against his rebellious subjects. But, on his way through Moravia, he was
taken ill, and on the 9th of December, 1437, he died at Znojem.
The power which he had gained by his re-conquest of Bohemia, and the
fierce hatred which he had excited by his whole career, were alike manifested
by the events which immediately followed his death. The champions of
Sigismund at once proposed that his son-in-law, Albert of Austria, should be
chosen king. This, they said, had been Sigismund’s dying wish; and they backed
Albert’s claim, not only by reference to his marriage with Sigismund’s daughter,
but by the old promise of Charles IV., that the House of Austria should succeed
the House of Luxemburg on the throne of Bohemia. But, on the other hand, the
House of Hapsburg had always been looked upon as enemies by all the most
patriotic Bohemians, and there were at least three reasons why Albert himself
should be specially unpopular in the country. He had tried to use the power
which Sigismund had entrusted to him, to drag away Moravia from its
connection with Bohemia. He had desired to Germanise all the cities that fell
into his hands; and he had taken an active part in the war against the Utraquists.
Although, therefore, the champions of Albert succeeded in obtaining a majority
in his favour in the Bohemian Assembly, Rokycana and his followers were able
to rally round them some of the most active spirits of the nobles and many of
the knights and citizens, and to secure the election, at Tabor, of Ladislaus, King
of Poland.
Ladislaus was chosen on the ground that, if they could not get a Bohemian
prince, the Bohemians should at least secure a king from a nation allied to them
in language and race. This King accepted the crown on behalf of his younger
brother, Casimir; and a war followed which might have been somewhat
uncertain in its results, but that Albert, who had also been chosen King of

Hungary, was compelled to hasten to that country to resist the invasion of the
Turks. There, too, he found opposition, on the ground of his strong German
feeling; many of the Hungarian nobles were disposed to revolt from him; and,
worn out with anxiety and illness, he retired to Vienna, and died there, less than
two years after his election.

ZNAYM (ZNOJEM), SCENE OF SIGISMUND’S DEATH.

His death at once produced a change in the feeling of Bohemian parties. His
widow, Elizabeth, might have been unfortunate in her marriage with a German,
and not much more fortunate in being the daughter of Sigismund; but she was,
none the less, the granddaughter of Charles IV., and, through the mother of
Charles, the most direct descendant of the old Bohemian line. The sentiment
which naturally gathers round a widowed queen seems always to have exercised
an important influence in Bohemian history, and all parties agreed to suspend
their strife until the expected heir should be born. But no sooner was it known
that the queen had been delivered of a son than the question at once arose of
who was to be his guardian. The new Emperor, Frederick III., at last consented
to accept this office; and, both as Emperor and head of the House of Austria, he
was considered the rightful protector of the young Ladislaus.
But it was evident that neither party desired that Bohemia should be at the
mercy of the Emperor of Germany, and it was therefore necessary to choose two

Councillors to govern the kingdom during Ladislaus’ minority. Ulric of
Rosenberg, who had now become the leader of the Catholic party, decided to
hold aloof, for a time, from politics; and, consequently, Meinhard of Neuhaus,
who had represented the ultra-moderate party of the Utraquists, was chosen as
the best protector of the Catholic interests in the Council, while a nobleman
named Ptac̆ ek represented the party of Rokycana.
The disorder which naturally arose in a country divided by factions, and
without a recognised king, was further increased by the revival of those
theological disputes, which had fallen, for a time, into the background. The
Taborites, whom their enemies had, no doubt, supposed to have been crushed at
the battle of Lipaný, had proved themselves a still vigorous force in the struggle
against Albert; and Ptac̆ ek became extremely jealous of their power, and desired
to suppress them. A quarrel between one of the leading Taborites and some of
the Silesians led to a Silesian invasion of Bohemia, and gave Ptac̆ ek an excuse
for demanding the suppression of the Taborite League. Rokycana for the
moment intervened to make peace among the parties, and attempted to secure a
free discussion of points of difference. At first the Taborites were unwilling to
come to these discussions, declaring that they were afraid of Ptac̆ ek’s tyranny,
and appealing to Sigismund’s former promise that they should not be compelled
to change their ritual; but at last, after actual violence had been resorted to, and
the Taborite town of Vodnian had been taken by storm, both parties consented to
a meeting at Kutna Hora for a final discussion of the points at issue. Two
presidents were chosen for the conference, Wenceslaus of Drachov, as
representing the Calixtines, and Peter Payne, as the champion of the Taborites.
Payne had recently called out an unexpected burst of enthusiasm among his
Bohemian friends. Returning, apparently, from a visit to Basel, he had been
seized at Nürnberg by a nobleman named Burian von Gutenstein, and held as a
prisoner. Burian offered to surrender him to Henry VI. of England; but Henry
feared that he might be intercepted and rescued at Basel. That Council was now
openly at war with Eugenius IV.; and, while the Pope was summoning an
opposition Council at Ferrara, the Baseler, on their side, had declared Eugenius
deposed, and had set up an anti-pope of their own. Many of those who had most
earnestly wished for the meeting of the Council were now withdrawing their
support from it; and Henry VI., who had been one of the first to urge its
convocation, now denounced and feared it. He, therefore, advised Burian to
send his prisoner direct to the Pope at Ferrara or Florence. This Burian was
willing enough to do; but Eugenius was occupied with his contest with the
Council of Basel, and with his attempt to help the Greeks against the Turks; and

he found it difficult to deal properly with his proposed prisoner. Under these
circumstances the Taborite towns cut the knot by offering to raise a large
ransom for Payne. This was accepted by Eugenius, and Payne was restored to
the Taborites amid great enthusiasm.
Thus, in spite of his foreign origin and of the offence which he had given by
his recent decision, Payne was readily accepted by the Taborites as their
spokesman at this, their final appearance as controversialists. Nay, so ready
were they to abandon, in his favour, some of their strongest feelings, that they
actually rebuked Pr̆ zibram for disputing with Payne in the Bohemian language,
since the Englishman was unable to understand it. The questions in dispute
seem mainly to have turned upon the nature of the presence of Christ in the
Sacrament; and the controversy grew so hot that Koranda, the Taborite priest,
made the same challenge to Pr̆ zibram which Hus had formerly made to the
Masters who wished to condemn Wyclif; namely, that, if convicted, he would be
willing to be burnt as a heretic, provided that his opponents would consent to
the same punishment in case of conviction. Finally, the discussion was referred
to the next Assembly of the Estates of Bohemia, an Assembly which, under
Ptac̆ ek’s influence, readily decided in favour of the Calixtines, as against the
Taborites.
Ulric of Rosenberg, who had previously held aloof from the discussions of
the Assembly, now saw his opportunity in the division of his enemies; and he
hoped to use the Calixtines as allies in crushing out their more formidable
opponents. But, while this scheme was still in a state of preparation, Ptac̆ ek
died, and the discussion of the Utraquists was temporarily brought to an end by
the rise of a new leader.
This leader was a young man of twenty-four named George of Podĕbrad. His
father had been a friend and protector of Z̆ iz̆ ka; and his family had been more
steadily identified with the Utraquist cause than most of the nobles of Bohemia.
He was the godson of Z̆ iz̆ ka, had distinguished himself in the war between
Ladislaus and Albert, and had since been made the captain of the Bunzlau
(Boleslav) Circle, a specially Protestant district. He seems to have had a
singular gift of inspiring confidence, and a diplomatic power of seizing
opportunities. Although he defended the claims of Rokycana to the
archbishopric, the Taborites were at first as zealous as the Calixtines in
welcoming him as a leader; and he adroitly contrived to bring to the front once
more that proposal for the recognition of the Compacts of Basel, which
appeared to be a bond between the different sections of the Utraquists. Nor was
it to the Utraquists alone that he at first appealed for support; for his demand

that the Emperor should surrender Ladislaus to the Bohemians attracted the
sympathies of the more patriotic Catholics. By his help negotiations were
opened with Emperor and Pope; and the death of Eugenius IV. seemed to open a
new chance for the concession by the Papacy of some of the Utraquist demands.
But, though Pope Nicholaus might be willing, for a time, to use friendly words,
the Emperor Frederick was more uncompromising, and he absolutely refused to
restore the young king to the Bohemians.
George of Podĕbrad now decided to make himself more completely master of
the situation; and a quarrel which had recently broken out between the
Bohemians and Duke William of Saxony gave him an excuse for raising a large
force of soldiers. His work was soon simplified by the action of his opponents.
Cardinal Carvajal, coming to Prague to negotiate about the demands of the
Bohemians, expressed a desire to see a copy of the actual Compacts of Basel;
and, on getting it into his hands, he tried to carry it away from the city. Several
of the Utraquist leaders followed him, and forced him to surrender the
document; but this attempt finally destroyed any hope which the Utraquists
might have cherished of a compromise with the Catholics. The sincere
Utraquists at once drew together; while Meinhard of Neuhaus openly took the
Catholic side. The excitement in Prague became intense, and George of
Podĕbrad seized the moment to march to the city. After a short pretence of
negotiation, he suddenly attacked the town on the 3rd of September, 1448, and
captured it by assault. Rokycana was welcomed back in triumph, and Meinhard
of Neuhaus was thrown into prison, where he soon after died.
Although George had acted as the champion of the Utraquists in their
struggle against Albert and Neuhaus, his first object in seizing the power into
his hands was to restore order in the country. For that purpose, he wished to
conciliate the Catholics, as much as the Utraquists; and he brought into office
Zdenek of Sternberg, one of the fiercest of the Catholic party. He even
succeeded in gradually drawing the Rosenbergs to his side; though, at the same
time, he always treated Rokycana as his chief adviser, and was urgent for his
recognition as archbishop. This policy was extremely resented by the Taborites,
and they were ready to combine, even with the discontented Catholics, against
him.
When, then, in 1452, George was at last chosen Administrator of the
kingdom, he found opposition to his authority, not only in the extreme Roman
Catholic centres of Budweis (Budejóvice) and Pilsen (Plz̆ en), but also in Tabor,
and other Taborite towns. George, however, had now risen to the position of a
national leader, accepted by all those who preferred the order and unity of

Bohemia to the triumph of any particular party. Rokycana, on his side, had
gained an influence among the Utraquists, as a whole, which made the
resistance of any section of them far less formidable than it had been in former
days. Moreover, the chief interest of the country was, for the moment, centred
rather in the recovery of their king than in the decision of any theological
doctrine; and, in their desire to rescue Ladislaus from Frederick, the Bohemians
received the sympathy of the Hungarians, and even of the Austrians.
This discontent with Frederick led to actual preparations for war on the part
of the three nations aggrieved by his action; and George, in his capacity of
Governor of Bohemia, had an excuse for raising forces without at once
declaring the purpose for which they were to be used. When, however, his
preparations were complete, in August, 1452, he suddenly marched against
Tabor. At first the Taborite priests were disposed to rouse the citizens to their
usual attitude of determined resistance; but, as soon as George appeared before
the town, the old unconquerable spirit vanished; the citizens were seized with a
panic, and consented to recognise George as Governor. Still, it might have
seemed as if this recognition was to be merely a part of a compromise,
according to which the rights and liberties of the Taborites were still to be
recognised; but when, in pursuance of this belief, they sent their Bishop
Nicholaus and their favourite priest, Koranda, to Prague, to discuss their points
of difference with the Calixtines, Nicholaus and Koranda were suddenly seized
and imprisoned, until they would consent to yield to Rokycana’s authority. Even
this did not kindle the old spirit of the Taborites; and, in December, 1452, the
Calixtine priests entered Tabor, and celebrated Mass with those rites and
ornaments which the Taborites had fought so hard to suppress.
The fall of Tabor marks a great crisis in the Utraquist movement; and though
there is another phase of that movement which has yet to be recorded, the
distinctive character, that had given it such life and force, must evidently have
been doomed to destruction before such an event could have occurred.
Important as was the element contributed to the Utraquist cause by the learned
scholars of the University of Prague, they could never have produced so vivid
an effect on Europe had they not been backed by the fiery enthusiasm, the high
ideals, and the ferociously combative spirit of the flail-bearing peasants of
Tabor. It was the flails of the Taborites which made the Moravian nobles flinch
from the battle of Vys̆ ehrad; it was they who had scared every army which came
against them, from the time of the first battle of the Z̆ iz̆ ka Hill to the day when
Cardinal Cesarini fled in panic from the country which he had been so certain of
conquering. The zeal of the Taborites for purity and simplicity of life had

supplied an impulse which no theological doctrine could of itself contribute;
while their intolerance of priestly forms, and their belief in the superiority of the
Congregation of the Faithful to the decrees of any learned society, had given
that democratic colouring to the movement which has made their traditions such
a lasting force in Bohemia, even to the present day. At the same time their
turbulent savagery and fierce intolerance made it necessary that, at some time or
other, they should be absorbed in a broader and more orderly organisation. The
Independents had now found their Cromwell; and to him they were obliged to
sacrifice much of the liberties for which they had originally fought.

XII.
FROM THE FALL OF TABOR TO THE DEATH OF GEORGE
OF PODĔBRAD.
(1452-1470.)

The parallel suggested at the end of the last chapter between Cromwell and
George of Podĕbrad must, like all such parallels, be taken with very
considerable modifications; and it was perhaps not one of the least points of
difference between these two rulers that George’s first object, after the
establishment of his power, was to bring back the King, who was still detained
by the Emperor of Germany. As a concession to one of the complaining nations,
and very likely with the hope of exciting jealousy between them, Frederick had
brought the young Ladislaus to Vienna; but, if this step conciliated the
Austrians, it does not appear to have excited any opposition on their part to the
return of Ladislaus to Bohemia. Nor were the Catholic nobles able to make use
of his restoration for weakening the power of George; they could not even
prevent the Utraquists of the Assembly from resolving that Ladislaus should be
asked, before his coronation, to accept the Compacts of Basel.
The feelings of the boy king were evidently somewhat painfully divided. The
education which Frederick had given him had produced in him a great zeal for
the Catholic cause; but the zeal was modified, and somewhat counteracted, by
his deeply rooted conviction that it was to George of Podĕbrad alone that he
owed the possibility of becoming King of Bohemia. Both these feelings were
made manifest on his arrival in Prague. When Rokycana came out at the head of
the clergy to welcome the young king, Ladislaus turned away and would hardly
notice the Archbishop, until George induced him to thank Rokycana for his
address. But, when the procession reached the Catholic College, the king sprang
from his horse and did special reverence to those clergy who had been restored
to their livings on the occasion of Sigismund’s coronation. The struggle
between Ladislaus and his strong-willed viceroy was of short duration. George
was resolved not to yield on the question of Rokycana’s position; and the young
king left Prague in great indignation. He did not, indeed, at once abandon his
efforts for effecting a reconciliation between the Pope and the Bohemians, at the
expense of the popular Archbishop; but, on his second visit to Prague in 1457,

he found both George and Rokycana still obstinate in their resistance; and the
poor boy’s efforts at the settlement of the difficulties of the Church were cut
short by illness and death. On his deathbed he again renewed to George his
admission that he owed the crown to his influence; and he entreated him to
govern the dependent provinces justly, and to secure that those, who had
followed the young King from Austria to Bohemia, should be allowed to return
peaceably to their own country.
The death of Ladislaus extinguished the last claim to direct descent from the
old Bohemian kings; and the consequence was that a larger number of
candidates than usual came forward to claim the Bohemian crown. Charles VII.,
King of France, based his pretensions to the throne on the ground that, had
Ladislaus lived, he would have been married to Charles’s daughter. The Duke of
Saxony pleaded that he had actually married the sister of Ladislaus. The Dukes
of Austria tried to revive the recollection of the promise of Charles IV.; while
the King of Poland appealed to the fact of his former election, which had fallen
into abeyance after the birth of Ladislaus. Of these candidates, the King of
France and the Duke of Saxony seem to have been by far the most pressing and
sanguine in their candidature; and both of them paid court to George; while both
of them hoped, by securing a dependency of Bohemia, to get a footing in the
kingdom before their actual election. The King of France declared his intention
of taking Luxemburg under his special protection, while William of Saxony
appealed to the desire of some of the Silesians to choose him as their ruler.
But both these candidates had reckoned their chances without knowing the
wishes of the two most important men in Bohemia. George was determined that
Silesia should never be separated from the Bohemian crown; and he had equally
little wish that any foreigner should again become king of Bohemia. Rokycana,
on his part, was not less determined that no one but George should be the King.
In addressing the Bohemian Assembly in March, 1459, the Archbishop boldly
grounded his appeal for George not only on his Bohemian birth, the purity of
his life, and his proved power to defend them against their enemies, but also on
his devotion to the Utraquist cause. Openly as this claim was put forward, it
does not seem to have alienated the Roman Catholic nobles. George’s
conciliatory policy towards the Catholics, and his personal friendship for some
of their leaders, readily induced them to acquiesce in an election which would
secure a strong national king to Bohemia. Yet from the very first Rokycana
succeeded in giving a Utraquist colouring to the decision. While the envoys of
Duke William of Saxony were eagerly expecting the election of their master,
their meditations were interrupted by a simultaneous burst of ringing from all

the churches in Prague; George speedily issued from the Town Council House
with the sword of honour borne before him; and he was led across the square to
the Teyn Church, where, after a general singing of the Te Deum, Rokycana
called on the people to thank God for giving them a king who would stand by
their faith.

GEORGE OF PODĔBRAD, FIRST HERETIC KING OF BOHEMIA.

Thus the election of George of Podĕbrad to the throne of Bohemia marks the
accession of the first heretic king in the history of Europe. Doubtless the name
of heretic had been freely thrown at Henry IV. by Hildebrand, at Barbarossa by
Alexander III., and at Frederick II. and Louis of Bavaria by every Pope who
came in contact with them; but every one knew that that name was a mere term
of abuse, of no more special significance than “knave” or “ruffian”; and that the
real point at issue in those quarrels was the question of the exercise of some
form of secular authority. George of Podĕbrad, on the other hand, was
deliberately recommended to the Assembly of Bohemia, on account of his

championship of a purely ecclesiastical practice, which had been condemned by
one Council of the Church, and by one Pope at least; and, although a later
Council might have partially and hesitatingly sanctioned the practice, that
Council had itself perished in an odour of heresy and resistance to Papal
authority.
Yet, strange to say, it was not till about four years after George’s election that
the Pope and the leaders of the Church recognised the full significance of the
event which had taken place. This delay was due to various causes. In the first
place, George, who was evidently conscious of the difficulties of his position,
and anxious to maintain his character of national king, had begun his reign by
making concessions to the Catholics. Remembering that Rokycana had never
been formally recognised as Archbishop by any ecclesiastical authority, he
looked about for some more legally appointed bishop, to consecrate him as
king. In this matter he was assisted by one whom he had good reason to look to
as his friend.
Immediately on the death of Ladislaus, the Hungarians had decided to
choose, as their king, Matthias, the son of their great general Huniades. He had
been opposed to the rule of Ladislaus, and had even raised insurrection against
him. In one of the battles which followed, Matthias had been taken prisoner by
George, and brought to Prague. On the announcement, however, of the
Hungarian election, George at once set his prisoner free, and sent him back to
Hungary as King. George now in turn appealed to Matthias to send him over
two bishops to crown him King of Bohemia. Matthias readily consented; and
George promised at his coronation to suppress heresy. A more satisfactory
concession to Roman Catholic feeling was the new arrangement for the
government of the diocese of Prague. The Dean of Prague had claimed to
administer the diocese, on account of the heresies of Rokycana. The
Archbishop, naturally enough, protested; and George settled the matter by
granting the Dean authority over the Catholic priests, while Rokycana was to
retain his authority over the Utraquists.
But apart from these concessions to Catholic feeling, the position and policy
of the Pope tended more than anything else to delay, for a time, the collision
between him and the heretic king. In the very same year in which George was
chosen King of Bohemia, Æneas Silvius Piccolomini was elected Pope of Rome
under the title of Pius II. He had been a zealous champion of the Council of
Basel, and had vainly tried to make peace between it and Eugenius IV. He was
therefore not prepared at once to condemn a practice which the Council of Basel
had, at least conditionally, sanctioned. Moreover, there was another reason,

which operated still more strongly to induce him to make friends with the King
of Bohemia. For several years past, the most zealous Catholics of Europe had
been turning their attention away from the divisions in their own Church, to
watch with terror the advance of the Turks in Europe; and, since the fall of
Constantinople in 1453, the sense of the relative insignificance of every other
question, in comparison with the expulsion of the Mahometan invaders, had
been growing in the minds of all true champions of Christendom. If, then, Pius
II. could succeed in winning to this cause the strong championship of the new
King, he might well wink, for a time, at a few little heresies in doctrine and
practice.
But, unfortunately, there were other grounds of opposition to George which
were not so easily put aside as mere suspicions of heresy might be. William of
Saxony was determined to make good his claim on Silesia; and he was able to
appeal to that sentiment of provincial independence which had been growing
during the previous century. Neither Z̆ iz̆ ka nor Procop had ever been able
thoroughly to establish the power of the Bohemians over Moravia and Silesia;
but the accession of a ruler, who seemed to be acceptable to all parties in
Bohemia, was likely to strengthen the central power at the expense of local
aspirations. The Silesians and Moravians complained that neither of their
Assemblies had been consulted in the election of George; and the towns of
Moravia, always jealous of the power of Prague, and containing a strong
admixture of German and Catholic elements, were eager to resist the
centralising power of the heretic king. Albert of Austria was able to give them
little assistance; and one after another the great cities of Moravia were reduced
to obedience. Znaym (Znojem) was the first to open its gates to George. Brünn
(Brno), more strongly fortified, was at first disposed to resist; but it soon
yielded to the threat of a siege; and Olmütz speedily followed its example. In
Iglau (Jíhlava) the Catholic reaction had risen to a greater height than in any of
the other towns of Moravia; and the leaders of the party had deposed the Town
Council and appointed one of their own; but, on being convinced that George
intended no persecution of the Catholics, Jíhlava also surrendered to the king.
The resistance in Silesia was of a more determined kind. Broken up as it was
into little Dukedoms, containing a strong German element, and often influenced
by its near neighbourhood to Saxony, Silesia had probably at no time felt that
strong sympathy with the Bohemians which still existed in Moravia, in spite of
the apparent triumph of the Catholic reaction. But the strongest opposition in
Silesia came, not from the provincial dukes, but from the town of Breslau. The
Bishop of Breslau seems to have been a more zealous Catholic than most of his

neighbours; while the citizens had continual causes of rivalry with Prague, both
on account of trade differences and of exceptional municipal privileges.
Breslau, therefore, held out against George, long after the rest of Silesia had
practically submitted to him. The Pope, still hoping to secure the help of George
against the Turks, tried to persuade the Breslauer to submit to the King, and
answered to their complaints of George’s heresy that it was for the Pope, and
not for the town of Breslau, to decide that question. At last, in 1460 George
succeeded in bringing the Breslauer to terms; but not till he had promised them
considerable ecclesiastical and municipal privileges, and had allowed them to
defer their homage to him for three years.
Bohemia, however, was not the sole obstacle to the union of Christendom
against the Turks. The Emperors of Germany had been growing steadily weaker
during the last century; and many princes had wearied of Frederick III.’s
government, and were looking about for a strong ruler who might put down the
divisions of the Empire, before leading them against the Turks. Under these
circumstances many considered that George of Bohemia would be the right man
for the place. In Hungary, too, Matthias had found great difficulty in holding his
own against the nobles; and there again, though much against his will, George
was looked upon as a possible substitute for the unpopular king. In his own
country he seemed to be gaining steadily in power. He had restored, to a great
extent, the influence of the towns which had been decaying during the Hussite
wars, and he gathered round him, not only the most eminent men in Bohemia,
but also the most distinguished foreigners from Germany and Italy.
But, in the meantime, Pius II. was becoming alarmed at the power of this
king. He had hoped that George would have come to Rome to declare himself a
true son of the Church. He found that no progress was being made in the anti-
Turkish crusade; and he heard, with alarm, that the Archbishop of Mainz and
other German ecclesiastics were preparing to demand the fulfilment of that
decree of the Council of Constance, according to which a new Council was to
be summoned every ten years. These suspicions of the Pope were much
encouraged by one of his advisers, Fantinus de Valle, who tried to convince him
that heresy had recently gained new life, and that there was a special revival of
the teaching of Wyclif. At last in January, 1462, George consented to send an
embassy to Rome, stating the terms on which he would make the necessary
submission to the Pope. This submission was to be given, practically, on the
recognition by Pius of the Compacts of Basel. The Pope was, in the first place,
indignant that George should send representatives instead of coming himself to
Rome; and he was perhaps not more favourably disposed to the deputation, that

Koranda, the Taborite preacher, was one of the members of it; for Koranda
dwelt with considerable enthusiasm on the victories of the Taborites in the
Utraquist wars, and maintained that they had acted by the grace of God, and by
the enlightenment of the Holy Spirit.
At last on March 31st the Pope, in a large assembly, declared that the
Communion in both kinds, having been condemned by the Council of
Constance, and at one time by the Council of Basel, must be considered as a
disorderly and heretical arrangement; that the Compacts had been only a
temporary provision; and he now declared them at an end. The Bohemian
ambassadors, accompanied by Fantinus de Valle, returned to Prague to report
the news to the Assembly. When they had delivered their report, George
declared that the Pope had no right to take away what the Council of Basel had
conceded, and what Eugenius had indirectly sanctioned. If any Pope, he said,
may undo what his predecessors have done, what security is there for justice?
Then, referring to the charge that he had violated his coronation oath in not
suppressing heresy, he ordered the oath to be read publicly. Then he proceeded
to say that, in declaring he would suppress heretical wickedness, he had never
meant that he would suppress Utraquism, since, said he, “it is founded in the
Gospel of Christ, according to the institution of the primitive Church, and has
been conceded to us as a privilege of our virtue and devotion, by the Council of
Basel. And as to swearing to oppose the practice, no indeed! But know for
certain that, since we were born in that Communion, since we were nurtured in
it, and since, by God’s help, we have been raised to the royal dignity in it, so we
promise to guard and defend it, and to live and die for it; and our wife and
children, and all who do any thing for the love of us, ought to live and die in the
defence of the Compacts; nor do we believe that there is any other way of
salvation for our souls than the Communion in both kinds, according to the
institution of our Saviour.” Then he turned to the nobles who stood about him,
and asked them for their decision on the question.
But it was no longer possible to maintain the former unity in the face of this
declaration; and while the Utraquist nobles promised readily to stand by the
King, Sternberg declared, on behalf of the Catholics, that, while they were
willing to support the King in all that concerned the honour of his kingdom,
they had not been consulted about the acceptance of the Compacts, and that
George must not look to them to defend them. The next day Fantinus de Valle
was admitted to speak on behalf of the Pope. He at once announced the
revocation of the Compacts by Pius, and the deposition from the clerical office
of all who gave the cup to the laity. Finally he wound up his speech by fiercely

threatening George with deposition from his throne, if he did not obey the Pope.
George thereupon turned to the lords, who stood round him, and said, “Noble
lords, you chose me as your king and protector; and since you have the power
of choosing a lord to protect you, you ought to work with him.” He then burst
out into a fierce denunciation of the Roman see, declaring that it was a seat of
pestilence; and on the following day Fantinus was seized and imprisoned.
The declaration of hostility seemed now sufficiently clear on both sides; but
again new considerations delayed the final outburst. The Emperor Frederick had
just been engaged in a war with his brother Albert about some claims in the
Archduchy of Austria. Albert succeeded in defeating the Emperor, and
imprisoning him at Vienna; but George hastened to Vienna, rescued the
Emperor, and restored him to the throne. Frederick was full of gratitude; and,
while confirming all the liberties of Bohemia, he persuaded the Pope to abstain
from excommunicating George. Pius, still bent on the Turkish war, and knowing
probably that Frederick would find some sympathy for an anti-Papal policy,
consented to a curious compromise. He would not issue a formal Bull of
anathema against George; but he sent messengers to the citizens of Breslau,
releasing them from the treaty which they had recently made, and encouraging
them to rebel. At the same time he tried to stir up discontent among the nobles.
Many of these had already become alarmed at the growing power of their king.
Although he had strictly recognised the Constitutional rights of the Assembly,
yet the expedition to Vienna had given an opportunity for reasserting one of the
privileges about which the Bohemian nobles were most sensitive; namely, the
power of refusing to follow the King when he made war outside the country.
The opposition to this expedition was speedily followed by fiercer attacks; and
the lords now accused George of illegal taxation, of interference with the
coinage, and of manipulating the land register, so as to reduce to feudal
submission those who were legally independent. With regard to most of the
nobles, however, there seemed an unwillingness at first to push things to an
extremity; but a Moravian named Hynek of Lichtenberg, who had long
cherished a personal jealousy against the king, broke out into open insurrection,
and set on fire some of the towns in Moravia. Hoping to secure the Pope’s
sympathy in this rebellion, Hynek sent to Rome for advice as to the course that
he should pursue; but, before Pius could commit himself to a distinct answer to
this question, he was taken ill, and died in August, 1464.
George was well pleased to hear that a Venetian Cardinal had been elected
Pope. But Paul II., though at first apparently friendly to George, was irritated at
some delay in the formal congratulation on his accession which was due to him

from the King of Bohemia. Hynek soon succeeded in getting a ready hearing
from those Cardinals who were most opposed to George; and, in spite of the
protest of the Bishop of Olmütz and of many leading people in Moravia, Paul
was induced to command George to withdraw his forces from the siege of
Hynek’s castle. George remonstrated with the Pope; but the previous irritation
was revived by the rumour that George had refused to send ambassadors for
fear of their being ill-treated at Rome. The continued attempts on Hynek’s
castle, and the renewal of the siege of Breslau, were treated as acts of
contumacy; and at last, on August 6, 1465, Paul issued a Bull deposing George
from the throne, and authorising the legate to punish all who should still adhere
to him.
In the meantime the growing bitterness of the Catholic nobles had been
increased by a personal quarrel between George and Zdenek of Sternberg.
Although George had been forced to rely upon this nobleman in his attempts to
conciliate the Catholics, he soon found that Zdenek’s character was not
deserving of confidence; and he was forced to refuse him a wardship, for which
he applied, on the ground that he had abused his trust on a former occasion.
This reproach roused Zdenek to still further opposition; and he induced the
lords to found a League in defence of the Pope. The immediate object of Paul
and the rebel lords was to find a king for Bohemia; and they fixed on Matthias
of Hungary, who, though he owed much friendship and help to George, was
easily attracted by the hope of a new kingdom. Many of the important towns of
Bohemia fell away from the King, and joined the lords against him. The four
great towns of Moravia formed a special League for the defence of the Catholic
faith. Pilsen and Budweis, always inclined to the Catholic cause, speedily joined
this League; and the town of Görlitz, the centre of a special district in Silesia,
was hard pressed, on account of its loyalty to the king. George was so eager for
peace that he consented to a meeting with the rebels at Prague, at which he
defended himself from the various charges brought against him by the nobles;
and he produced some of the charters from Carlstein to prove the legality of his
actions. Sternberg refused to believe George’s assertion that he had shown them
all the charters which concerned their rights; and he demanded that Carlstein
and its contents should be handed over to himself and his friends, and that the
charters should be submitted to the Emperor for confirmation. George
indignantly refused these proposals, which apparently went beyond the wishes
of many of the lords; but the Pope frightened the rebels into new opposition, by
another Bull which placed Bohemia under an interdict.

George now appealed from the Pope to a new Council, and called on Casimir
of Poland to intercede between him and Paul. Casimir willingly undertook this
negotiation, to which some victories of George seemed to give a hope of
success; but the attempt at compromise completely broke down; and the Poles
joined the anti-Utraquist alliance. Rosenberg, who had stood by the King for
some time, now went over to Sternberg; and, when George advanced to besiege
Olmütz, his own soldiers deserted his banner. George was now compelled to
retreat to Prague in April, 1469; and the Legate supposed him to be so
completely crushed that he offered him the following terms of peace. He was to
return, with all his servants, to the Catholic faith; to give up all Articles which
the Church condemned; to restore all ecclesiastical property; to recognise
Matthias as his son and successor, and allow him to appoint the Archbishop and
the heads of all the churches in Prague; and, finally, to give up to the Legate the
arch-heretic Rokycana.
Not many even of George’s enemies could have expected him to accept these
terms; and the consequence of their proposal was an exchange of fierce
defiances between the two parties, ending in a formal election of Matthias as
king of Bohemia, by the rebel nobles. But the heretic King was not so easily to
be beaten. On January 1, 1470, he sent a letter to the princes of the German
Empire, which reads more like the manifesto of a conqueror than the appeal of a
defeated and deposed king. He set forth in bitter language the treatment which
he had received from the Pope; and he warned the princes that unless they
would support him in this crisis, he would break off all connection between
Bohemia and the Empire, and stand alone.
In the meantime his enemies had begun to be divided among themselves. The
six towns, of which Görlitz was the centre, had been forced to yield for a time
to the Catholic League and had been placed under the rule of Sternberg’s son.
They had soon found him so oppressive that they revolted against him and
drove him out; and when Zdenek appealed to Matthias, Matthias treated his
complaints with contempt. Rosenberg and Gutenstein returned to their
allegiance to George; and many of the towns of Silesia and Moravia began to
cry out against the government of the League. Seizing this opportunity, George
once more invaded Moravia, and gained victory after victory over Matthias.
The King of Hungary tried to redeem his cause by making an inroad into
Bohemia; but the cruelties of the Hungarian soldiers led the common people to
rise against Matthias’s army; and the Poles seemed once more friendlily
disposed to their old allies. The Bohemian lords gradually drifted back to
George; and the complaints of the Interdict were so loud in the country that the

Cardinals began to consider the advisability of suspending it. But, before the
victory of the Bohemians could be secured, the struggle was cut short by the
death of King George, preceded, only a few weeks earlier, by the death of his
friend and supporter, Archbishop Rokycana.

XIII.
FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE BOHEMIAN
BROTHERHOOD TO THE ACCESSION OF FERDINAND I. TO
THE THROWN OF BOHEMIA.
(1419-1526.)

Reference has already been made in the previous chapters to a possible
historical parallel between the Bohemian struggle of the fifteenth century and
the English revolution of the seventeenth; but the most startling point of that
parallel has still to be mentioned. Whatever likenesses or differences there may
be between the Calixtines and the Presbyterians, the Taborites and the
Independents, or between George of Podĕbrad and Oliver Cromwell, there can,
at least, be no doubt that George Fox and his followers found their prototypes in
Bohemia in the fifteenth century; and that the treatment which the Bohemian
Quakers received from the Utraquists, exactly foreshadowed the persecution of
the English Society of Friends by their Puritan countrymen.
Yet even here we must note, by anticipation, an important difference between
the Bohemian and the English story. It is perfectly possible to give an intelligent
and connected account of the English history of the seventeenth century,
without making more than a casual reference to the Quaker movement. For,
important as the life of George Fox would be in a general sketch of European
philanthropy, it can scarcely be said to form a necessary link between any two
periods of English history. On the other hand, it is impossible to give a clear
impression of the Bohemian history of the sixteenth century without calling
considerable attention to the work and influence of the Bohemian Brotherhood.
One reason for this difference is that the movement for peace, and all the
ideas that gather round such a movement, were more in harmony with the
traditions of Bohemia than with those of England. This statement may sound
startling and paradoxical, when it follows so closely on the account of the
Utraquist wars. They, more than any other event, have brought Bohemia into
prominence in European history; and it was chiefly as fighters that the
Bohemians were known to the surrounding nations at the beginning of the
sixteenth century. Nevertheless, early traditions, whether legendary or
historical, never entirely lose their influence on the character of a nation.

The gentle figure of Libus̆ a presiding over a peaceable community is a
marked contrast to the figures of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round
Table; and the essentially combative character of St. George suggests directly
opposite ideas of saintship to those represented by St. Wenceslaus and St.
Adalbert. Nor, when the stream of religious tradition divides into the two
branches of Catholic and Protestant, does the contrast cease between the
English and Bohemian models. The legendary picture of St. John Nepomuc is
more gentle and suffering than even the historical facts would justify, and it
offers a strange contrast to all the traditions that gather round the name of
Becket; while the loving and hesitating character of Jan Hus is almost equally
unlike the sternly defiant figure of Wyclif.
There is, however, another reason for the difference exercised on their
respective countries by the Bohemian and the English Society. While the stern
idealism of the Quakers hindered them from directly influencing the ordinary
course of public life, the more accommodating character of the Bohemian
Brothers enabled them to affect the general policy of their country by
sacrificing something of their perfection as a Christian community. This point
of difference will become more clearly evident as the story proceeds; it will
now be sufficient to have called attention to the fact that, on both these grounds,
the followers of Peter of Chelc̆ ic are more closely connected with the course of
Bohemian history than the followers of George Fox with the history of England.
Peter of Chelc̆ ic, like George Fox, was a shoemaker by trade; but he educated
himself carefully, both in the Latin language and in the history of his country.
He does not seem ever to have wandered far from the little village of Chelc̆ ic, in
the Prachin district; though the narrowness of his geographical outlook did not
hinder him from plunging tolerably early into the important controversies with
which his life was concerned. It was he who in 1419 propounded to the Masters
of the Prague University his doubts on the lawfulness of religious wars. He was
not satisfied with the answer which he received; and the weakness which he
detected in Jakaubek’s arguments doubtless strengthened him in his previous
convictions.
He gradually adopted all those doctrines which we specially associate with
the name of George Fox. He rejected all rank and property for Christians;
declared that the conversion of Constantine was the ruin of the Church;
condemned oaths in law courts, and advocated the passive endurance of
injuries.

He soon began to attract attention; and when Peter Payne was driven out of
Prague, after the restoration of Sigismund, he took refuge at Chelc̆ ic with his
namesake. Apparently a dislike of the new teaching began, a little later, to show
itself amongst the Utraquists; for in 1443 we find that Peter was summoned
before an Assembly at Kutna Hora to answer for his doctrines. Nothing seems
to have come of this examination, for Peter was soon after allowed to publish
his first book; and others speedily followed, in which he attacked the Pope and
the clergy.
Just at this time Rokycana was engaged in a controversy with the Franciscan
Capistran; and, as he had completely triumphed over the Taborites, he felt ready
to sympathise with a new ally against Rome. He even recommended the
writings of Peter to many of his hearers in the Teyn Church; and Peter was
suffered to found a community which took the name of the Chelc̆ ic Brothers.
Many of those who were desiring to lead a purer and more self-denying life
drew near to the Brotherhood; and the protection and encouragement of
Rokycana gave the Society for a time the means of easy development.
But after the coronation of George of Podĕbrad, Rokycana’s feeling towards
the Brothers underwent a rapid change. His increase of power made him more
determined to assert that power at all hazards. Had the Brothers, indeed, been
contented to settle under the priests whom the Archbishop chose for them,
Rokycana might still have suffered them to remain unmolested; but he was
irritated by their desire to form a separate community of their own, independent
of all other ecclesiastical organisations. While this controversy was still in its
early stage, Peter died, and his nephew Gregory succeeded to the chief position
in the society. The new movement had now begun to include men of all classes,
although the nobles were expected to give up their rank if they actually joined
the Brotherhood.
But a more trying time was coming. In 1461, Gregory came to Prague and
held a meeting of his friends in the New Town. This was the time when
Fantinus de Valle was beginning to excite the suspicions of the Pope against the
Bohemian heresies; and, urged on doubtless by Rokycana, the King ordered the
arrest of the organisers of this meeting on the charge of being engaged in a
conspiracy. The attempts to convict them of political intrigue entirely broke
down; and they were then denounced as heretics, because of their denial of the
doctrine of Transubstantiation. Under pressure of torture, some of them
recanted, but Gregory remained firm. He reminded Rokycana of his
recommendation of the works of Peter of Chelc̆ ic, and he complained of the
Archbishop’s inconsistency in now denouncing them. Rokycana, however,

persisted in the course on which he had entered, and he refused to allow the
Brothers any of the sacraments of the Church. The Brothers now fled to the hills
of Reichenau, and resolved to form a stronger organisation for carrying on their
work.
With the curious inconsistency which naturally attaches to such movements,
they showed a great desire to connect themselves, in tradition if not in
organisation, with the older churches; and they chose as their chief president a
regularly ordained priest, named Michael. They elected a small council to
support him in his management of the Brotherhood; and then they chose their
priests by lot, and requested them to rebaptise all the Brotherhood. Although,
too, they rejected Episcopacy as a separate dignity, they practically entrusted to
Michael the special duties of a bishop. They now became known as “Jednota
Bratrska,” or the Unity of Brothers; and they speedily began to attract attention
from those who were out of sympathy with the existing churches. These were
not confined to pure-minded and earnest men like themselves, but included wild
sects like the Adamites, whom the Brotherhood were obliged to repel from their
body.
In the meantime Rokycana’s fury increased. He stirred up both King and
People against the Brotherhood, and persuaded the Assembly to pass a decree
ordering the suppression or compulsory conversion of the Brothers. Again
Gregory protested, and Rokycana now answered that no new Church could be
founded without a special revelation from Heaven. But when the Brothers
offered to explain the nature of their revelation, they were answered by
imprisonment, torture, and in some cases by burning. They were now compelled
to meet in woods, ditches, and clefts of the rock to carry on their religious
services; yet they still stood firm, and Gregory and a woman named Katerina
succeeded in keeping up methods of communication between them in various
parts of Bohemia and Moravia.
The deaths of King George and of Rokycana released them for a time from
persecution. The new King showed himself more kindly towards them. This
King was Ladislaus, the son of the King of Poland. He had been chosen King of
Bohemia, in spite of the resistance of Matthias. He was only sixteen years old
when he began to reign, and he seems to have speedily left on people around
him the impression of a youth of mild and weak temperament. He released the
Brothers who were still in prison, and they renewed their propaganda.
But their troubles were not yet at an end. Joanna, the widow of King George,
fiercely demanded their suppression; and when they asked for a free discussion

on the points at issue, the Masters of the Prague University informed them that
they might come to Prague to state their doctrines, and then submit to be
convinced of their errors by the Masters. This was precisely what the Council of
Basel had proposed to the Utraquists themselves, a proposal which they had
scornfully rejected; and the inconsistent character of the claim made by the
Utraquist leaders seems forcibly to have impressed, not only their Catholic
enemies, but even some of their supporters.
Therefore, under the pressure of public opinion, the Masters of the Prague
University consented, in 1473, to a discussion with the Brothers. Strangely
enough, the points which the Masters proposed for discussion did not refer to
the distinctive doctrines of Peter of Chelc̆ ic, but were rather concerned with the
meaning of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, and the right means of
obtaining salvation. The Brotherhood denied the doctrine of the Real Presence,
and maintained that salvation was only to be found in a virtuous life; they were
consequently denounced by the Masters of Prague, and very little real
discussion took place. The Masters soon after issued a letter, in which they
declared that the Brothers were the chief enemies of the Church; and they
further complained of them for choosing workmen for the office of priests.
It was during this phase of the controversy that Gregory died. He had
combined remarkable courage with an unselfish devotion to the cause of the
Brotherhood. He had willingly resigned the first place in favour of the priest
Michael; but he had, none the less, stamped his special convictions on the
minds of certain members of the Brotherhood; and, for a time, on the
constitution of the whole society. He warned the Brothers very strongly against
the dangerous influence of learned scholars, declaring that such people were
given to subtle intrigues, inconsistent with simplicity of life. At the same time
he gave enormous power into the hands of the Bishop of the Church. He was to
have the right of changing at will the members of the Council who acted with
him; and no Brother was to be allowed to publish any book without the sanction
of the Bishop and this Council of his nominees. More general questions of faith
and doctrine were to be decided by synods of the Brotherhood.
Though Gregory’s immediate successor in the Brotherhood was a man of like
feelings with himself, neither he nor any one else could ultimately maintain so
strict an organisation in its original form. It has, indeed, already been hinted that
the Bohemian Brotherhood, unlike their English successors, came, after a short
time, into friendly contact with the outer world; and they suffered in simplicity,
while they gained in influence.

They had now spread over a hundred and eighty square miles of territory; and
though they still for a time maintained the exclusion of worldly rank and
worldly power from their body, they did not object to accept the protection of
friendly nobles, who remained outside their body. Of these the most prominent
and sympathetic was Kostka of Postupic, whose father had endeavoured to
protect the Brothers against King George, and whose great-grandfather had
fought for Z̆ iz̆ ka. Through his influence many nobles were induced to modify
that attitude of hostility which the democratic tendencies of the Brotherhood
had naturally produced in them. But this connection could not fail in time to
produce a corresponding change in the feelings of the Brothers themselves; and
some of them began, before long, to propose a modification of the stern
principles which Gregory had enforced. Might not oaths be used on certain
occasions? Say, for instance, to free a Brother from unjust charges in a law-
court? And might not worldly offices be held, if they were administered in a
right spirit? These questions of practice, together with others of pure doctrine,
began gradually to excite divisions in the Brotherhood; and, though it was some
time before the more moderate creed could gain much ground, it soon found a
powerful and eloquent supporter, who knew how to make it acceptable.
About the year 1480, Lukas of Prague, a young and learned theologian, was
admitted into the Brotherhood. He had studied the old classics and the Fathers
of the Church; and he was strongly in favour of a relaxation of those stern
simplicities on which Gregory had insisted. He also desired to give greater
prominence to the doctrine of Justification by Faith, as distinguished from that
exclusive advocacy of good life which had hitherto been the mark of the
Brotherhood. Under the influence of Lukas, it was resolved in 1490 that the
heads of the congregations should be allowed to relax the severity of the rules,
on certain occasions, in regard both to questions of luxury and to the appeals to
the secular power.
Amos of S̆ tekna strongly denounced this compromise, and declared that the
devil of worldliness had entered as thoroughly into the Brotherhood as he had
entered into the Church in the time of Constantine and Sylvester. Mathias of
Kunvald, the successor of Gregory in the leadership of the Brotherhood,
sympathised with the sterner party; and, by his influence, the relaxing decrees
were repealed.
A project was then started for sending expeditions to various parts of the
world, in order to find out where the simplicity of faith was still maintained.
Nothing, however, seems to have resulted from these visits; and the party of
Lukas continued to gain ground. Mathias was unable to hold his own against the

pressure of the new Reformers; so at last he resigned his judgeship in despair,
and consented to the abolition of the Small Council. Thereupon Amos of S̆ tekna
and his followers revolted from the Brotherhood, and founded a new sect which
was called, after its founder, the Amosites. At the same time the old society
became generally known as the Bunzlau Brothers, after the town of
Jungbunzlau (Mláda Boleslav) which was now their chief centre.
Two results followed from this separation; first, an intensity of bitterness
between the old Society and the seceders, greater than that between the
Utraquists and the Brothers; and, secondly, the adoption of new modifications
and compromises by those who adhered to the old Society. All compromises
have a certain want of logic about them; and compromises between the Church
and the World on such questions as war and peace, simplicity and luxury,
equality and distinctions of rank, must necessarily produce results which, while
painful and pathetic to those who realise the state of mind of their framers, will
strike an unsympathising world as grotesque and even ludicrous.
Under the new arrangements, the members of the Brotherhood were allowed
to wear dress in proportion to their rank, if they did not become luxurious; but
silk and embroidery were still strictly forbidden. The compromise about war
was still stranger. If a Brother considered that the war which his king had made
was a just one, he should not refuse to take part in it if the lot fell upon him; but
he was to try, whenever possible, to find a substitute, or to get some office about
the Court which would excuse him from military duty, or to find some service
in connection with the army which did not involve fighting; but if he could not
find any such means of escape, then let him fight in God’s name; but let him not
fight for idle fame, and let him draw the sword with reluctance.
Some of the other modifications of principle seem more in accordance with
ordinary conceptions of life. Trade might now be practised, but usury was to be
avoided. Beer might be sold, if pure; but it was only to be sold in a public
manner to travellers. Oaths, again, might be taken by witnesses if they were
convinced of the justice of the cause in which they appeared.
But though such relaxations permitted the extension of membership to those
who had hitherto been excluded from the Brotherhood, the bonds of the Society
were drawn closer than ever round those members who had entered it. Strict
arrangements were made for the visitation of the Brothers by their clergy, and
for inquiry into the morals of each family; more rigid limitations than before
were placed on the acquirement of property by the clergy themselves, while the
appeals to worldly law-courts were more carefully guarded against by the