Huss spoke with deep humility of his own errors, accusing himself “of
having felt pleasure in wearing rich apparel, and of having wasted hours
in frivolous occupations.” He then added these touching admonitions: “May
the glory of God and the salvation of souls occupy thy mind, and not the
possession of benefices and estates. Beware of adorning thy house more
than thy soul; and above all, give thy care to the spiritual edifice. Be
pious and humble with the poor, and consume not thy substance in feasting.
Shouldst thou not amend thy life and refrain from superfluities, I fear
that thou wilt be severely chastened, as I am myself.... Thou knowest my
doctrine, for thou hast received my instructions from thy childhood; it is
therefore useless for me to write to thee any further. But I conjure thee,
by the mercy of our Lord, not to imitate me in any of the vanities into
which thou hast seen me fall.” On the cover of the letter he added, “I
conjure thee, my friend, not to break this seal until thou shalt have
acquired the certitude that I am dead.”(135)
On his journey, Huss everywhere beheld indications of the spread of his
doctrines, and the favor with which his cause was regarded. The people
thronged to meet him, and in some towns the magistrates attended him
through their streets.
Upon arriving at Constance, Huss was granted full liberty. To the
emperor’s safe-conduct was added a personal assurance of protection by the
pope. But in violation of these solemn and repeated declarations, the
Reformer was in a short time arrested, by order of the pope and cardinals,
and thrust into a loathsome dungeon. Later he was transferred to a strong
castle across the Rhine, and there kept a prisoner. The pope, profiting
little by his perfidy, was soon after committed to the same prison.(136)
He had been proved before the council to be guilty of the basest crimes,
besides murder, simony, and adultery, “sins not fit to be named.” So the
council itself declared; and he was finally deprived of the tiara, and
thrown into prison. The anti-popes also were deposed, and a new pontiff
was chosen.
Though the pope himself had been guilty of greater crimes than Huss had
ever charged upon the priests, and for which he had demanded a
reformation, yet the same council which degraded the pontiff proceeded to
crush the Reformer. The imprisonment of Huss excited great indignation in
Bohemia. Powerful noblemen addressed to the council earnest protests
against this outrage. The emperor, who was loath to permit the violation
of a safe-conduct, opposed the proceedings against him. But the enemies of
the Reformer were malignant and determined. They appealed to the emperor’s
prejudices, to his fears, to his zeal for the church. They brought forward
arguments of great length to prove that “faith ought not to be kept with
heretics, nor persons suspected of heresy, though they are furnished with
safe-conducts from the emperor and kings.”(137) Thus they prevailed.
Enfeebled by illness and imprisonment,—for the damp, foul air of his
dungeon had brought on a fever which nearly ended his life,—Huss was at
last brought before the council. Loaded with chains, he stood in the
presence of the emperor, whose honor and good faith had been pledged to
protect him. During his long trial he firmly maintained the truth, and in
the presence of the assembled dignitaries of church and state, he uttered
a solemn and faithful protest against the corruptions of the hierarchy.
When required to choose whether he would recant his doctrines or suffer
death, he accepted the martyr’s fate.
The grace of God sustained him. During the weeks of suffering that passed
before his final sentence, heaven’s peace filled his soul. “I write this
letter,” he said to a friend, “in my prison, and with my fettered hand,
expecting my sentence of death to-morrow.... When, with the assistance of
Jesus Christ, we shall again meet in the delicious peace of the future
life, you will learn how merciful God has shown Himself toward me, how
effectually He has supported me in the midst of my temptations and
trials.”(138)
In the gloom of his dungeon he foresaw the triumph of the true faith.
Returning in his dreams to the chapel at Prague where he had preached the
gospel, he saw the pope and his bishops effacing the pictures of Christ
which he had painted on its walls. “This vision distressed him: but on the
next day he saw many painters occupied in restoring these figures in
greater number and in brighter colors. As soon as their task was ended,
the painters, who were surrounded by an immense crowd, exclaimed, ‘Now let
the popes and bishops come; they shall never efface them more!’ ” Said the
Reformer, as he related his dream, “I maintain this for certain, that the
image of Christ will never be effaced. They have wished to destroy it, but
it shall be painted afresh in all hearts by much better preachers than
myself.”(139)
For the last time, Huss was brought before the council. It was a vast and
brilliant assembly,—the emperor, the princes of the empire, the royal
deputies, the cardinals, bishops, and priests, and an immense crowd who
had come as spectators of the events of the day. From all parts of
Christendom had been gathered the witnesses of this first great sacrifice
in the long struggle by which liberty of conscience was to be secured.
Being called upon for his final decision, Huss declared his refusal to
abjure, and fixing his penetrating glance upon the monarch whose plighted
word had been so shamelessly violated, he declared, “I determined, of my
own free will, to appear before this council, under the public protection
and faith of the emperor here present.”(140) A deep flush crimsoned the
face of Sigismund as the eyes of all in the assembly turned upon him.
Sentence having been pronounced, the ceremony of degradation began. The
bishops clothed their prisoner in the sacerdotal habit, and as he took the
priestly robe, he said, “Our Lord Jesus Christ was covered with a white
robe, by way of insult, when Herod had Him conducted before Pilate.”(141)
Being again exhorted to retract, he replied, turning toward the people:
“With what face, then, should I behold the heavens? How should I look on
those multitudes of men to whom I have preached the pure gospel? No; I
esteem their salvation more than this poor body, now appointed unto
death.” The vestments were removed one by one, each bishop pronouncing a
curse as he performed his part of the ceremony. Finally “they put on his
head a cap or pyramidal-shaped mitre of paper, on which were painted
frightful figures of demons, with the word ‘Arch-Heretic’ conspicuous in
front. ‘Most joyfully,’ said Huss, ‘will I wear this crown of shame for
Thy sake, O Jesus, who for me didst wear a crown of thorns.’ ”
When he was thus arrayed, “the prelates said, ‘Now we devote thy soul to
the devil.’ ‘And I,’ said John Huss, lifting up his eyes toward heaven,
‘do commit my spirit into Thy hands, O Lord Jesus, for Thou hast redeemed
me.’ ”(142)
He was now delivered up to the secular authorities, and led away to the
place of execution. An immense procession followed, hundreds of men at
arms, priests and bishops in their costly robes, and the inhabitants of
Constance. When he had been fastened to the stake, and all was ready for
the fire to be lighted, the martyr was once more exhorted to save himself
by renouncing his errors. “What errors,” said Huss, “shall I renounce? I
know myself guilty of none. I call God to witness that all that I have
written and preached has been with the view of rescuing souls from sin and
perdition; and, therefore, most joyfully will I confirm with my blood that
truth which I have written and preached.”(143) When the flames kindled
about him, he began to sing, “Jesus, Thou Son of David, have mercy on me,”
and so continued till his voice was silenced forever.
Even his enemies were struck with his heroic bearing. A zealous papist,
describing the martyrdom of Huss, and of Jerome, who died soon after,
said: “Both bore themselves with constant mind when their last hour
approached. They prepared for the fire as if they were going to a marriage
feast. They uttered no cry of pain. When the flames rose, they began to
sing hymns; and scarce could the vehemency of the fire stop their
singing.”(144)
When the body of Huss had been wholly consumed, his ashes, with the soil
upon which they rested, were gathered up and cast into the Rhine, and thus
borne onward to the ocean. His persecutors vainly imagined that they had
rooted out the truths he preached. Little did they dream that the ashes
that day borne away to the sea were to be as seed scattered in all the
countries of the earth; that in lands yet unknown it would yield abundant
fruit in witnesses for the truth. The voice which had spoken in the
council hall of Constance had wakened echoes that would be heard through
all coming ages. Huss was no more, but the truths for which he died could
never perish. His example of faith and constancy would encourage
multitudes to stand firm for the truth, in the face of torture and death.
His execution had exhibited to the whole world the perfidious cruelty of
Rome. The enemies of truth, though they knew it not, had been furthering
the cause which they vainly sought to destroy.
Yet another stake was to be set up at Constance. The blood of another
witness must testify for the truth. Jerome, upon bidding farewell to Huss
on his departure for the council, had exhorted him to courage and
firmness, declaring that if he should fall into any peril, he himself
would fly to his assistance. Upon hearing of the Reformer’s imprisonment,
the faithful disciple immediately prepared to fulfil his promise. Without
a safe-conduct he set out, with a single companion, for Constance. On
arriving there he was convinced that he had only exposed himself to peril,
without the possibility of doing anything for the deliverance of Huss. He
fled from the city, but was arrested on the homeward journey, and brought
back loaded with fetters, and under the custody of a band of soldiers. At
his first appearance before the council, his attempts to reply to the
accusations brought against him were met with shouts, “To the flames with
him! to the flames!”(145) He was thrown into a dungeon, chained in a
position which caused him great suffering, and fed on bread and water.
After some months the cruelties of his imprisonment brought upon Jerome an
illness that threatened his life, and his enemies, fearing that he might
escape them, treated him with less severity, though he remained in prison
for one year.
The death of Huss had not resulted as the papists had hoped. The violation
of his safe-conduct had roused a storm of indignation, and as the safer
course, the council determined, instead of burning Jerome, to force him,
if possible, to retract. He was brought before the assembly, and offered
the alternative to recant, or to die at the stake. Death at the beginning
of his imprisonment would have been a mercy, in comparison with the
terrible sufferings which he had undergone; but now, weakened by illness,
by the rigors of his prison-house, and the torture of anxiety and
suspense, separated from his friends, and disheartened by the death of
Huss, Jerome’s fortitude gave way, and he consented to submit to the
council. He pledged himself to adhere to the Catholic faith, and accepted
the action of the council in condemning the doctrines of Wycliffe and
Huss, excepting, however, the “holy truths” which they had taught.(146)
By this expedient Jerome endeavored to silence the voice of conscience and
escape his doom. But in the solitude of his dungeon he saw more clearly
what he had done. He thought of the courage and fidelity of Huss, and in
contrast pondered upon his own denial of the truth. He thought of the
divine Master whom he had pledged himself to serve, and who for his sake
endured the death of the cross. Before his retraction he had found
comfort, amid all his sufferings, in the assurance of God’s favor; but now
remorse and doubt tortured his soul. He knew that still other retractions
must be made before he could be at peace with Rome. The path upon which he
was entering could end only in complete apostasy. His resolution was
taken: to escape a brief period of suffering he would not deny his Lord.
Soon he was again brought before the council. His submission had not
satisfied his judges. Their thirst for blood, whetted by the death of
Huss, clamored for fresh victims. Only by an unreserved surrender of the
truth could Jerome preserve his life. But he had determined to avow his
faith, and follow his brother-martyr to the flames.
He renounced his former recantation, and as a dying man, solemnly required
an opportunity to make his defense. Fearing the effect of his words, the
prelates insisted that he should merely affirm or deny the truth of the
charges brought against him. Jerome protested against such cruelty and
injustice. “You have held me shut up three hundred and forty days in a
frightful prison,” he said, “in the midst of filth, noisomeness, stench,
and the utmost want of everything; you then bring me out before you, and
lending an ear to my mortal enemies, you refuse to hear me.... If you be
really wise men, and the lights of the world, take care not to sin against
justice. As to me, I am only a feeble mortal; my life is but of little
importance; and when I exhort you not to deliver an unjust sentence, I
speak less for myself than for you.”(147)
His request was finally granted. In the presence of his judges, Jerome
kneeled down and prayed that the divine Spirit might control his thoughts
and words, that he might speak nothing contrary to the truth or unworthy
of his Master. To him that day was fulfilled the promise of God to the
first disciples: “Ye shall be brought before governors and kings for My
sake.... But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye
shall speak: for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall
speak. For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which
speaketh in you.”(148)
The words of Jerome excited astonishment and admiration, even in his
enemies. For a whole year he had been immured in a dungeon, unable to read
or even to see, in great physical suffering and mental anxiety. Yet his
arguments were presented with as much clearness and power as if he had had
undisturbed opportunity for study. He pointed his hearers to the long line
of holy men who had been condemned by unjust judges. In almost every
generation have been those who, while seeking to elevate the people of
their time, have been reproached and cast out, but who in later times have
been shown to be deserving of honor. Christ Himself was condemned as a
malefactor at an unrighteous tribunal.
At his retraction, Jerome had assented to the justice of the sentence
condemning Huss; he now declared his repentance, and bore witness to the
innocence and holiness of the martyr. “I knew him from his childhood,” he
said. “He was a most excellent man, just and holy; he was condemned,
notwithstanding his innocence.... I also—I am ready to die: I will not
recoil before the torments that are prepared for me by my enemies and
false witnesses, who will one day have to render an account of their
impostures before the great God, whom nothing can deceive.”(149)
In self-reproach for his own denial of the truth, Jerome continued: “Of
all the sins that I have committed since my youth, none weigh so heavily
on my mind, and cause me such poignant remorse, as that which I committed
in this fatal place, when I approved of the iniquitous sentence rendered
against Wycliffe, and against the holy martyr, John Huss, my master and my
friend. Yes! I confess it from my heart, and declare with horror that I
disgracefully quailed when, through a dread of death, I condemned their
doctrines. I therefore supplicate ... Almighty God to deign to pardon me
my sins, and this one in particular, the most heinous of all.” Pointing to
his judges, he said firmly: “You condemned Wycliffe and John Huss, not for
having shaken the doctrine of the church, but simply because they branded
with reprobation the scandals proceeding from the clergy,—their pomp,
their pride, and all the vices of the prelates and priests. The things
which they have affirmed, and which are irrefutable, I also think and
declare, like them.”
His words were interrupted. The prelates, trembling with rage, cried out,
“What need is there of further proof? We behold with our own eyes the most
obstinate of heretics!”
Unmoved by the tempest, Jerome exclaimed: “What! do you suppose that I
fear to die? You have held me for a whole year in a frightful dungeon,
more horrible than death itself. You have treated me more cruelly than a
Turk, Jew, or pagan, and my flesh has literally rotted off my bones alive;
and yet I make no complaint, for lamentation ill becomes a man of heart
and spirit; but I cannot but express my astonishment at such great
barbarity toward a Christian.”(150)
Again the storm of rage burst out, and Jerome was hurried away to prison.
Yet there were some in the assembly upon whom his words had made a deep
impression, and who desired to save his life. He was visited by
dignitaries of the church, and urged to submit himself to the council. The
most brilliant prospects were presented before him as the reward of
renouncing his opposition to Rome. But like his Master, when offered the
glory of the world, Jerome remained steadfast.
“Prove to me from the Holy Writings that I am in error,” he said, “and I
will abjure it.”
“The Holy Writings!” exclaimed one of his tempters, “is everything then to
be judged by them? Who can understand them till the church has interpreted
them?”
“Are the traditions of men more worthy of faith than the gospel of our
Saviour?” replied Jerome. “Paul did not exhort those to whom he wrote to
listen to the traditions of men, but said, ‘Search the Scriptures.’ ”
“Heretic!” was the response, “I repent having pleaded so long with you. I
see that you are urged on by the devil.”(151)
Erelong sentence of condemnation was passed upon him. He was led out to
the same spot upon which Huss had yielded up his life. He went singing on
his way, his countenance lighted up with joy and peace. His gaze was fixed
upon Christ, and to him death had lost its terrors. When the executioner,
about to kindle the pile, stepped behind him, the martyr exclaimed, “Come
forward boldly; apply the fire before my face. Had I been afraid, I should
not be here.”
His last words, uttered as the flames rose about him, were a prayer.
“Lord, Almighty Father,” he cried, “have pity on me, and pardon me my
sins; for Thou knowest that I have always loved Thy truth.”(152) His voice
ceased, but his lips continued to move in prayer. When the fire had done
its work, the ashes of the martyr, with the earth upon which they rested,
were gathered up, and like those of Huss, were thrown into the Rhine.
So perished God’s faithful light-bearers. But the light of the truths
which they proclaimed,—the light of their heroic example,—could not be
extinguished. As well might men attempt to turn back the sun in its course
as to prevent the dawning of that day which was even then breaking upon
the world.
The execution of Huss had kindled a flame of indignation and horror in
Bohemia. It was felt by the whole nation that he had fallen a prey to the
malice of the priests and the treachery of the emperor. He was declared to
have been a faithful teacher of the truth, and the council that decreed
his death was charged with the guilt of murder. His doctrines now
attracted greater attention than ever before. By the papal edicts the
writings of Wycliffe had been condemned to the flames. But those that had
escaped destruction were now brought out from their hiding-places, and
studied in connection with the Bible, or such parts of it as the people
could obtain, and many were thus led to accept the reformed faith.
The murderers of Huss did not stand quietly by and witness the triumph of
his cause. The pope and the emperor united to crush out the movement, and
the armies of Sigismund were hurled upon Bohemia.
But a deliverer was raised up. Ziska, who soon after the opening of the
war became totally blind, yet who was one of the ablest generals of his
age, was the leader of the Bohemians. Trusting in the help of God and the
righteousness of their cause, that people withstood the mightiest armies
that could be brought against them. Again and again the emperor, raising
fresh armies, invaded Bohemia, only to be ignominiously repulsed. The
Hussites were raised above the fear of death, and nothing could stand
against them. A few years after the opening of the war, the brave Ziska
died; but his place was filled by Procopius, who was an equally brave and
skilful general, and in some respects a more able leader.
The enemies of the Bohemians, knowing that the blind warrior was dead,
deemed the opportunity favorable for recovering all that they had lost.
The pope now proclaimed a crusade against the Hussites, and again an
immense force was precipitated upon Bohemia, but only to suffer terrible
defeat. Another crusade was proclaimed. In all the papal countries of
Europe, men, money, and munitions of war were raised. Multitudes flocked
to the papal standard, assured that at last an end would be made of the
Hussite heretics. Confident of victory, the vast force entered Bohemia.
The people rallied to repel them. The two armies approached each other,
until only a river lay between them. “The crusaders were in greatly
superior force, but instead of dashing across the stream, and closing in
battle with the Hussites whom they had come so far to meet, they stood
gazing in silence at those warriors.”(153) Then suddenly a mysterious
terror fell upon the host. Without striking a blow, that mighty force
broke and scattered, as if dispelled by an unseen power. Great numbers
were slaughtered by the Hussite army, which pursued the fugitives, and an
immense booty fell into the hands of the victors, so that the war, instead
of impoverishing, enriched the Bohemians.
A few years later, under a new pope, still another crusade was set on
foot. As before, men and means were drawn from all the papal countries of
Europe. Great were the inducements held out to those who should engage in
this perilous enterprise. Full forgiveness of the most heinous crimes was
insured to every crusader. All who died in the war were promised a rich
reward in heaven, and those who survived were to reap honor and riches on
the field of battle. Again a vast army was collected, and crossing the
frontier they entered Bohemia. The Hussite forces fell back before them,
thus drawing the invaders farther and farther into the country, and
leading them to count the victory already won. At last the army of
Procopius made a stand, and turning upon the foe, advanced to give them
battle. The crusaders, now discovering their mistake, lay in their
encampment awaiting the onset. As the sound of the approaching force was
heard, even before the Hussites were in sight, a panic again fell upon the
crusaders. Princes, generals, and common soldiers, casting away their
armor, fled in all directions. In vain the papal legate, who was the
leader of the invasion, endeavored to rally his terrified and disorganized
forces. Despite his utmost endeavors, he himself was swept along in the
tide of fugitives. The rout was complete, and again an immense booty fell
into the hands of the victors.
Thus the second time a vast army, sent forth by the most powerful nations
of Europe, a host of brave, warlike men, trained and equipped for battle,
fled without a blow, before the defenders of a small and hitherto feeble
nation. Here was a manifestation of divine power. The invaders were
smitten with a supernatural terror. He who overthrew the hosts of Pharaoh
in the Red Sea, who put to flight the armies of Midian before Gideon and
his three hundred, who in one night laid low the forces of the proud
Assyrian, had again stretched out His hand to wither the power of the
oppressor. “There were they in great fear, where no fear was: for God hath
scattered the bones of him that encampeth against thee: thou hast put them
to shame, because God hath despised them.”(154)