Again, as in Ireland, these national feuds were mixed up with
religious differences. The seeds of future strife were early sown.
Christianity came from two opposite sources. On the one hand, two
preachers, Cyril and Methodius, had come from the Greek Church in
Constantinople, had received the blessing of the Pope, and had
preached to the people in the Bohemian language; on the other, the
German Archbishop of Salzburg had brought in hosts of German
priests, and had tried in vain to persuade the Pope to condemn the
two preachers as heretics. And the people loved the Bohemian
preachers, and hated the German priests. The old feud was raging
still. If the preacher spoke in German, he was hated; if he spoke
in Bohemian, he was beloved; and Gregory VII. had made matters worse
by forbidding preaching in the language of the people.

The result can be imagined. It is admitted now by all
historians--Catholic and Protestant alike--that about the time when
our story opens the Church in Bohemia had lost her hold upon the
affections of the people. It is admitted that sermons the people
could understand were rare. It is admitted that the Bible was known
to few, that the services held in the parish churches had become
mere senseless shows, and that most of the clergy never preached at
all. No longer were the clergy examples to their flocks. They
hunted, they gambled, they caroused, they committed adultery, and
the suggestion was actually solemnly made that they should be
provided with concubines.

For some years a number of pious teachers had made gallant but vain
attempts to cleanse the stables. The first was Conrad of
Waldhausen, an Augustinian Friar (1364-9). As this man was a German