This post will mostly be about more specific, technical, and historical-theological questions about Petr Chelcicky and Hussites in general. It won't have much broad appeal beyond interest in these things.
I recently re-read parts of Murray Wagner's book on Petr Chelcicky. I had read it seven or so years ago, so I was interested to review some of the things in it. I've grown a lot in terms of assessing the historical discipline, as well as having a far broader and deeper base of historical knowledge, so I was curious to see how things had changed. And wow! I found myself so incredibly frustrated with the book, but I had to check myself constantly. The book was not a historical monograph, but a quasi-theological review from an Anabaptist point of view. Even so, I found myself shaking my head at the kinds of leaps of logic that he applied and how he reconstructed the historical situation of 15th century Bohemia.
Now part of the problem, for me, is that all I have to go on are works like these. I don't think this epoch is much studied in the English-speaking world, and so most of the literature (in German or Czech, I presume) is inaccessible to me. So all I have to go on is based on older works and trying to read between the lines. And even doing so, increasingly aware of all that I don't know, I was consistently unimpressed with Wagner's assessment, something clearly colored and driven by his Anabaptist presuppositions. Thus, I can't even count how many times he uses the word "separatist" to describe Chelcicky when that term is not only ambiguous, but something not derived from the source materials. In addition, Wagner applies some flattened account of logic and reason to judge things, rather than trying to understand how medieval Czechs would have thought. I found myself sighing every time he would say something like, "well x would be the logical position, but Chelcicky for some reason doesn't go there". Possibly that's true, we're not always consistent; but it's also true that sometimes it is we, the analysts, who don't understand, and thus we bracket a choice as irrational. It's up to historians to try and make a judgement about these sorts of things, not expect our subjects to conform to our judgements about certain trains of thought.
The following will be a series of thoughts in response to different parts of Wagner's book:
-Wagner consistently calls Chelcicky, and the Chelcice brethren, "separatist", but the more I thought about it, the less this point makes sense. Now, Chelcicky's early life is not well understood. He was probably a small farmer, a kind of free yeoman, of some status, being that he could read and write Latin. He also spent some time in Prague before being fed up with urban life, as well as the direction of Hussite movement, returning to his village. But that's about it. I bring these events up because there's no point where Petr "breaks" his relationships with the greater Hussite movement. To call him a Separatist is to summon the ghost of the English Separatists, who had clearly decided to condemn the reformational Church of England as anti-Christ. Instead, while Chelcicky will lament and accuse that Hussite leaders, like Mikulas and Rokycana, have drunk the wine of the Whore, he never ceases to be friends with them, at least Rokycana. Chelcicky will at times praise Rokycana, along with other Hussite fathers, for their godliness, even as he offers this criticism of them. It's inexplicable if Chelcicky was a separatist as Wagner claims, as if a refrain, why he would ask the archbishop to resolve a conflict between the Chelcice brethren and the Vodnany fellowship. The fact that Rokycana turns his nephew Rehor (Gregory) onto Chelcicky is a sign that the two remained friends, even if Chelcicky was critical of the archbishop.
Wagner reads this situation as Rokycana trying to find a safe outlet, someone who won't threaten the concord between Bohemia and the combined forces of Pope and Emperor. That's possibly true, but not because that's the normal course. In fact, it's usually the opposite. One can look at Menno Simons writing to Francis I, or Separatist puritans writing to various bishops to see how this logic was precisely not the case. Despite claims that these groups were not only not threats, but supportive of the current regime, they were deemed threats. And while Simons took a far more pacific stance, he was not nearly as critical of the world as it was as Chelcicky was. To me, the only way that this makes sense in the Rokycana/Chelcicky instance is that Chelcicky was not, in fact, promoting any actual separatism. This is not something that happens until later, when the Chelcice Brethren become a distinct entity, first the Unitas Fratrum under Rehor's leadership, and then confessionalized under Lukas.
-This leads to my second point, about how best to understand Hussitism in the first place. I think it's a category error to bifurcate between the various groups, e.g. Utraquists, Taborites, Chelcice separatists, etc. Reason being is that none of these groups ever quite saw themselves in this way, or that if they ever did, it was a historical development. When Rome tried to bargain with the Hussites, not only were Utraquists present (both moderates like Rokycana and "conservatives" like Pribram), but also Taborite bishops, like Mikulas. They saw themselves as part of the same movement. But does that mean they're all on board with the same vision? Absolutely not. Conservatives like Pribram desired a liturgical change (i.e. communion in two kinds), and nothing more. And while the movement was officially called Utraquism for this reason, the Four Articles went clearly beyond this point. There was a desire for doctrinal and ecclesiastical reform. Following Wycliffe, Utraquists want church properties placed under state authorities. They wanted to roll back the ultramontane papacy and pursue an independent, national, church. And yet, this may not be all. The movement that explodes from Mt. Tabor is not something else, but a radicalization of Hussitism. Thus, the movement for godly reform signaled, perhaps, the end of an age, a war against the forces of anti-Christ.
Of course, there's clearly far more to the Taborites than simply a more radical theology. Utraquists and Taborites, as they're usually designated, both try to claim the mantle of Wycliffe and Hus. But besides theological differences, they reflect, quite drastically, the social situation in Bohemia. The principality was highly centralized, with all wealth, privilege, and power located in Prague. The city was one of the gems of the Medieval period, taking on a kind of life of its own, a center of trade, culture, etc. Yet this explosion of wealth and power put it at odds with the provincials, the vast countryside. While many aristocrats and landlords spent their lives in the city, there were lower level elites and middling sorts who resented this redistribution of power. On top of this, the peasantry was even further removed, and further abused, by absentee landlords and a marketization of their works. This fueled the radicalization of Tabor and the far more staid, and tactical, reform of the predominantly Prague-based Utraquists.
These divisions might not have meant anything substantial if the Taborites did not prove themselves incredibly powerful. Under the military genius of Zizka, the "Warriors of God" smashed imperial armies time and again. But, as Wagner correctly points out, many Utraquists were concerned about longevity. They had to reckon with the fact that the Taborite armies were powerful and the sword of the Hussite cause, but they also recognized the long game. There were many barons who were either still Roman or they were fence-sitters. There was also the fact that simply driving the Empire out of Bohemia did not remove the constant threat. Utraquist tacticians needed to find some peace agreement with Rome, some guarantee of existence.
Yet they were not alone. Taborites also began to calculate their odds of survival. The provincial radicalism unleashed at mt. Tabor became increasingly a problem. Taborite leaders understood that they needed Prague, and yet the social radicalism made many landowners and aristocrats uneasy and fearful. Thus, at a certain point, the Taborite leadership cracked down on the so-called "Pikartists" and "Adamites", probably involving real precedents of radical behavior in conjunction with projected fears of anarchy. The leveling social equality was stemmed, and feudal dues were reimposed. It's impossible in this era (and pretty much any era) to uncouple theological issues from social and political ones. The Pikartist doctrines of the eucharist, which were attacked as simply memorialist, were hived off as aberrant. Yet, at the same time, this exaggeration was to hide the actual disagreements between Taborite leaders and the Praguers. Chelcicky and Rokycana both agreed that Mikulas was being somewhat deceptive, trying to hide behind Wycliffe's technical ambiguity about what sort of presence of Christ was in the eucharist. I think we may reasonably wager that just as Mikulas was part of the push to purge radicals like Huska from the Taborite wing, he would offer conciliatory measures to the Prague doctors, even as he found their conservatism wrong-headed. The Taborite bishop was political, but that didn't mean he didn't have real positions on things.
From all of these points, I think the movement from Tabor, being a social and theological radicalism, was not in contradistinction to the Prague-based Utraquism, but a wing of it. All were Hussites, and all desired a national reform. But what this meant, and who it benefited, and how, was where the real differences were had. If the Taborites were simply separatists, as Wagner claims, then the seamless move back into the main Hussite party is inexplicable. There was no re-entrance. It would be inexplicable, in an age where canonical ordination was of supreme importance, why no Utraquist balked at Taborite claims of office if they had not emerged from within the same doctrinal matrix. That's not to say that there weren't Taborite radicals who wanted to eject the entire system as anti-Christ, but they were not at the helm, even if they exerted pressure. There were not different movements of Hussitism, only different wings of a Hussite movement to liberate the Czech church.
-From this vantage, one can re-examine Chelcicky's perspective. Since an actual break would be rather significant, something that many would have noticed (and condemned), it's unlikely Chelcicky was a separatist. However, it did not mean he was simply an Utraquist or a Taborite, since these labels only signify wings or flavors of a movement for the church of Bohemia*. Wagner thinks Chelcicky rejected the parish-system, but that depends on what that, exactly, means. If it means that he rejected church lands, that were parceled out and reflected jurisdictional areas, then that's true, but he's also in company with the large majority of Hussites. But does that mean Chelcicky rejected chains of ordained authority, linked through ordination? No. Wagner struggles to understands Chelcicky's position, which then makes it unclear for me what he's actually saying. At times, Wagner explicates Chelcicky as a near-Donatist, at other times clearly an Augustinian. It's clear that Chelcicky had not given up on the sacramental character of the priesthood, even though he was highly critical of much of it. But there's no evidence Chelcicky took the lack of good priests as a launchpad to start his own movement. Chelcicky seems to have been severely pessimistic about the state of things, that derives from a commitment to the cause, not disinterest in it. When he went to Prague, he was mortified by the Prague master, the current archbishop Jakoubek, about his endorsement of murder for Christians. It seemed like whatever further the Hussite cause, even if it violated the law of God, it was permitted. This turn of events made it clear to Chelcicky, not only that city life was corrupting, but that connection to the state had poisoned the minds of Christians.
-From this point, I think claims about Petr's influenced by Waldensianism needs to be incredibly modest, if even deployed at all. There's no evidence that Chelcicky knew anything about Waldensianism first hand, though that doesn't mean he wasn't indirectly influenced. It's quite possible that their presence influenced some of the earlier proto-Hussite masters that Chelcicky relies on. It's really hard to say. While it's probably fair to say that Chelcicky lacked the kind of nationalist bigotry some of his contemporaries possessed against Germans, it's hard to go as far as to say that he welcomed them with open arms. Germans represented pope and empire, and they spoken a foreign language in a land that they seemed mostly to exploit. Again, that doesn't mean Chelcicky was given over to a fervor for Czech nationalism. There's evidence he met with the Lollard/Hussite Englishman Peter Payne, but even Wagner finds this meeting incredible, since neither likely could talk well to the other. If anything, it's because Payne learned Czech, rather than them conversing in Latin. But the point is that while Waldensianism may have had an innate influence upon some of the figures that led up to Hussitism, and then on figures after, it's unlikely they had any direct or substantial influence. Claiming that there are similarities of ideas is not only historically untenable, but that many of the Waldensian ideas were not wholly their own, but were present within the Roman world as well, even if these were deployed, understood, or reworked in various and different ways. Plus, all were reading the same Bible, in a similar exegetical context, with the same florilegia of church fathers. Waldensians weren't scholastics and didn't inhabit the universities, but that doesn't mean they weren't medieval.
-And yet, Chelcicky was not simply in the mainstream of Hussitism, and wrote radically critical texts. While proximate to mt. Tabor, that only shows that Chelcicky was of the same provincial milieu that was frustrated with the urban powers-that-be and the way they abused the peasantry. It doesn't mean he was simply a product of Tabor, even if he represented a similar strand of pronvincial radicalism. And yet it does not develop in the same direction. He unequivocally rejects mainstay Taborite eucharistic doctrines, he recoils from their chiliasm, rejects their militarism, and ultimately sides against Donatist notions of ordination. And yet, Chelcicky represents the same provincial revolt against Prague, with its urban debaucheries, its greed and wealth, its abuse of the peasantry, and celebration of the feudal estates from within its high walls. Unlike some radical Taborites, these facts did not warrant rejecting Prague's civil authority, or trying to capture and reform it. But it did mean a call for Christians to abandon such a death trap. And yet, Chelcicky never quite loses his respect for Rokycana, though he does break off communications for over a decade. He never quite gives up on the Czech church, or denies that it is a church, even as he believes it is mortally wounded by the poison of emperor and pope. He never ceases to criticize Utraquists for trying to build their own version, with a church enthralled to princely politics, with its cadre of fawning university professors. It's clear that Chelcicky rejects not only scholastic theology, which he believes is a trick to dilute the truth, but the kind of evolutionism among ultramontane papists. He excoriates such doctors who sneer at the early church as backwards, dirty, poor, stupid, and inept, which had given way to the power and beauty of the imperial church.
Thus, Chelcicky does not represent anti-intellectualism, but rejects the university system. His critiques would apply well today, not only of universities as such, but seminaries as well. These institutions belch forth theological platforms that allow one to avoid the moral imperatives of the NT. They, as well, provide comfortable and cushioned lives that allow one to ignore the suffering of many. Today's peasants may very well be the commercial wage worker, who are given their own semi-theological myth about why the world is as it is. Chelcicky's criticism is not that such people are innately righteous, either from a class or national affection, but that their wickedness and ignorance, such as it is, is a product from being so viciously oppressed. They are being misled, into the maw of Satan's mouth, by the dark arts of the university professors who bless and uplift the lords and the knights who smash and oppress. Chelcicky's salvation is not found in changing the system, but in Jesus Christ, who had overcome these dark powers. Thus, Chelcicky sees a way out in simply living out the life of a Christian, even when the church has failed in this matter. And yet, unlike later Protestant separatism or even the later Unitas Fratrum, Chelcicky does not set out on his own, but remains a lonely prophet. It seems that he is concerned to call the Czech church back to the truth, to sober up from the wine of Babylon, and return to its first love. It doesn't mean he ceases to act, but that he acts from within. The brethren that he guides represent a wing from within Hussitism, not a fracture. Again, if this is not the case, his request for Rokycana to judge (near the end of Petr's life no less) makes no sense. He will remain a sage among the faithful, even if the Czech church still won't shake it chains.
-As a final note, unrelated to Chelcicky, it's interesting to note how some strong analogies between the reformations in England and Bohemia. In a way, the Taborites are kind of like puritans, which produced its own radical movements that the mainstream tried to reject or push away. And yet, what has been labeled as conformity is forgotten as simply compromise. Like Utraquism, Church of England conformity represented its own set of revolutionary principles, but those that went only so far and in a particular direction. Like Utraquists, they were aware of political calculations, but that also did not wholly undermine their objectives. It's as stupid to consider the Elizabethan COE as half-reformed as to consider Utraquism as half-Catholic. Of course that's the position that its critics adopted, but that's hardly what was actually happening. There were many wings to a movement that was centered on a national church that pursued reform, even if the final product was not always agreed upon.
But there are many dissimilarities as well. The most obvious was that England was never in a state of siege. The closest comparison is England's antagonism with Spain, but the Spanish Armada never landed. Perhaps if it did it would be different; also if Mary Tudor had an heir, or Phillip of Spain had a stronger claim to the English throne. There was no equivalent to the Imperial nominee Sigismund for the throne of Bohemia. Also, England's reformation was part of an international Reformation. Besides being on an island, it meant that direct attention by pope and emperor could not be directed towards solving the problem. It also meant, however, that international influences played more of a direct role. Taborites were a homegrown movement from a turbulent social context. Thus they do not match the role of "Geneva" in the English imagination as a hotbed of foreign radicalism. Of course, the English reformation involved a heavy dose of learning from various corners of Europe, from Lutheran Germans, to Reformed Germans, Dutch, Swiss, and French (even an Italian). England had various figures of influence, but they never had their Hus to which they could pin their cause. Also, England was far more firmly in the Roman orbit at the time of the Reformation, unlike Bohemia which stood not only a cross-roads between East and West (Czechs were first evangelized by the Greeks before they became Roman), but also suffered far more at the hands of foreigners. Anti-German zeal helped drive a homegrown movement. England was never so pressed by the papacy. The fear was more about a return to the War of the Roses. Thus, civil and internal instability drove high politics rather than external oppression.
-And as a final-final note, it's interesting to point out that when a kind of peace came to Bohemia, it was the church issue which triumphed. A concord was made between Rome and Prague (grudgingly) in agreeing that the Hussite church would have an independent hierarchy, but that the throne would be given to Sigismund. Thus, national autonomy was sacrificed to the Empire so that the church would remain outside of Rome's orbit. Of course, the deal was fraudulent, and Rome refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Hussite church, and its archbishop Rokycana, until another Czech patriot, George Podybrady, reignited the conflict and pushed the issue further. The settlement seemed more lasting, but it burned up in the fires of the Reformation, where the Empire, and the new Jesuit order, could systematically tear a part Bohemia under pretexts of reversing the Protestants. But even with this in mind, it's still interesting that when push came to shove, the Hussite cause was never simply Czech nationalism masquerading as an ecclesiastical and theological dispute. Perhaps that's why Chelcicky remained friends with men like Rokycana, even as he lamented his captivity to Whorish thinking.
*To elaborate, it's not always clear what variations in Hussite ecclesiology were. They, in general, lined up behind Wycliffe's emphasis upon the invisible church, looking away from land and property towards righteousness. But this did not mean Donatism, since it seems the majority of Hussites rejected the idea that ordination was invalid if the priest turned out to be wicked. And yet the focus was on the church of the elect, which worked quite well with efforts to remove church property from ecclesiastical corporations or Roman ownership. The priesthood should be poor, humble, and virtuous, reflecting Christ and His apostles, not worldliness.
Chelcicky followed this point, which meant he was not concerned so much with the question of whether such-and-such was a true church as long as the ordination chain was not broken (a point generally taken for granted). Thus separatism made less sense in this context, though it did mean that ecclesiastical flexibility was taken far more for granted, since holy living and discipleship marked out a group of Christians, whether or not they had regular access to sacraments. Chelcicky never seems to have countenanced ordaining others, or considering himself ordained, but that didn't stop him from pursuing Christian living. It was likely that the Chelcice brethren depended on local priests to receive the sacraments from, even if they would have been wary, as Chelcicky was, of associating with priests with wicked reputations.
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