Picture twelve. In this canvas, as in the previous one, history does not appear as the roar of weapons, but again as the silent, almost painful breathing of the human soul. Although the composition may at first glance evoke the familiar heroic pathos of Hussite battles, Alfons Mucha deliberately takes us elsewhere - to a moment when consciences are broken instead of swords and the meaning of suffering is sought instead of victory. The scene from Vodnany is not a celebration of battle, but an image of flight, fear and moral choice.
Vodnany, a small town sandwiched between the millstones of a terrible war, is not a strategic point but a human community thrown into the chaos of history. The characters on the screen are not soldiers, but ordinary, exhausted people, women, men and children, whose footsteps lead them far away to a home that is engulfed in fire. In the background, shrouded in smoke and dark tones, the burnt-out dwellings loom - a mute, stern indictment of a war that destroys not only buildings but also memory and the continuity of life. But this contrast between the devastation in the distance and the utterly profound human helplessness in the foreground provokes a reaction in just about everyone that gives the work an almost existential depth.
The central figure is Petr Chelčický. Not as a fighter or a tribune of the people, but as a silent witness of pain. He approaches those fleeing with a Bible in his hands - a symbol of the word that opposes violence. His gesture is not theatrical, not the pathos of victory, but the pathos of strong compassion. The eyes of the refugees show anger, despair and a desire for revenge, but Chelčický offers them another way: the way of forgiveness, faith and inner resistance to the spiral of violence. It is at this point that the painting becomes a moral appeal, not just a historical illustration. The canvas also strongly reflects Mucha's pacifist nature.
It cannot be read without an awareness of the First World War, which was raging at the time the work was written. The global conflict that swept the old world away here seeps into the medieval motif and makes it a timeless warning. Mucha writes history not with the blood of heroes, but with the tears of ordinary people. His pathos is not rousing but touching - it is full of ordinary humanity that refuses to give up even in the midst of the conflagration of history. This image thus stands not against history, but against its glorification. It reminds us that true strength lies not in revenge but in the courage not to kill. And it is in this way that it becomes deeply etched in the memory of the person who, by examining this scene with a desire to understand and empathise with the action, becomes part of the image. Reference to the eleventh picture. Read more here
Jan Vojtěch, Editor-in-chief, General News
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