Chapter 6 : Huss and Jerome





The gospel had been planted in Bohemia as early as the ninth
century. The Bible was translated, and public worship was conducted
in the language of the people. But as the power of the pope increased,
so the Word of God was obscured. Gregory VII., who had taken it
upon him “to pull down the pride of kings,” was no less intent upon
enslaving the people, and accordingly a bull was issued forbidding
public worship to be conducted in the Bohemian tongue. The pope
declared that “God was pleased that his worship should be celebrated
in an unknown tongue, and that a neglect of this rule had given rise
to many evils and heresies.” Thus Rome decreed that the light of
God’s Word should be extinguished, and the people should be shut

up in darkness. But Heaven had provided other agencies for the
preservation of the church. Many of the Waldenses and Albigenses,
driven by persecution from their homes in France and Italy, came
to Bohemia. Though they dared not teach openly, they labored
zealously in secret. Thus the true faith was preserved from century
to century.

Before the days of Huss, there were men in Bohemia who rose
up to condemn openly the corruption in the church and the profligacy
of the people. Their labors excited widespread interest. The fears
of the hierarchy were roused, and persecution was opened against
the disciples of the gospel. Driven to worship in the forests and
the mountains, they were hunted by soldiers, and many were put
to death. After a time it was decreed that all who departed from
the Romish worship should be burned. But while the Christians [98]

yielded up their lives, they looked forward to the triumph of their
cause. One of those who taught that “salvation was only to be
found by faith in the crucified Saviour,” declared when dying, “The
rage of the enemies of truth now prevails against us, but it will not
be forever; there shall arise one from among the common people,
without sword or authority, and against him they shall not be able
to prevail.” Luther’s time was yet far distant; but already one was
rising, whose testimony against Rome would stir the nations.
John Huss was of humble birth, and was early left an orphan by
the death of his father. His pious mother, regarding education and
the fear of God as the most valuable of possessions, sought to secure
this heritage for her son. Huss studied at the provincial school, and
then repaired to the university at Prague, receiving admission as a
charity scholar. He was accompanied on the journey to Prague by
his mother; widowed and poor, she had no gift of worldly wealth
to bestow upon her son, but as they drew near to the great city, she
kneeled down beside the fatherless youth, and invoked for him the
blessing of their Father in Heaven. Little did that mother realize how
her prayer was to be answered.

At the university, Huss soon distinguished himself by his untiring
application and rapid progress, while his blameless life and
gentle, winning deportment gained him universal esteem. He was a
sincere adherent of the Romish Church, and an earnest seeker for
the spiritual blessings which it professes to bestow. On the occasion
of a jubilee, he went to confession, paid the last few coins in his
scanty store, and joined in the processions, that he might share in
the absolution promised. After completing his college course, he
entered the priesthood, and, rapidly attaining to eminence, he soon
became attached to the court of the king. He was also made professor
and afterward rector of the university where he had received his
[99] education. In a few years the humble charity scholar had become
the pride of his country, and his name was renowned throughout
Europe.

But it was in another field that Huss began the work of reform.
Several years after taking priest’s orders he was appointed preacher
of the chapel of Bethlehem. The founder of this chapel had advocated,
as a matter of great importance, the preaching of the Scriptures
in the language of the people. Notwithstanding Rome’s opposition
to this practice, it had not been wholly discontinued in Bohemia.
But there was great ignorance of the Bible, and the worst vices prevailed
among the people of all ranks. These evils Huss unsparingly
denounced, appealing to the Word of God to enforce the principles
of truth and purity which he inculcated.

A citizen of Prague, Jerome, who afterward became so closely
associated with Huss, had, on returning from England, brought
with him the writings of Wycliffe. The queen of England, who had
been a convert to Wycliffe’s teachings, was a Bohemian princess,
and through her influence also the reformer’s works were widely
circulated in her native country. These works Huss read with interest;
he believed their author to be a sincere Christian, and was inclined to
regard with favor the reforms which he advocated. Already, though
he knew it not, Huss had entered upon a path which was to lead him
far away from Rome.

About this time there arrived in Prague two strangers from England,
men of learning, who had received the light, and had come
to spread it in this distant land. Beginning with an open attack on
the pope’s supremacy, they were soon silenced by the authorities;
but being unwilling to relinquish their purpose, they had recourse to
other measures. Being artists as well as preachers, they proceeded
to exercise their skill. In a place open to the public they drew two
pictures. One represented the entrance of Christ into Jerusalem,

“meek, and sitting upon an ass” [Matthew 21:5.] and followed by
his disciples in travel-worn garments and with naked feet. The other
picture portrayed a pontifical procession,—the pope arrayed in his [100]
rich robes and triple crown, mounted upon a horse magnificently
adorned, preceded by trumpeters, and followed by cardinals and
prelates in dazzling array.

Here was a sermon which arrested the attention of all classes.
Crowds came to gaze upon the drawings. None could fail to read
the moral, and many were deeply impressed by the contrast between
the meekness and humility of Christ the Master, and the pride and
arrogance of the pope, his professed servant. There was great commotion
in Prague, and the strangers after a time found it necessary,

for their own safety, to depart. But the lesson they had taught was
not forgotten. The pictures made a deep impression on the mind of
Huss, and led him to a closer study of the Bible and of Wycliffe’s
writings. Though he was not prepared, even yet, to accept all the
reforms advocated by Wycliffe, he saw more clearly the true character
of the papacy, and with greater zeal denounced the pride, the
ambition, and the corruption of the hierarchy.

From Bohemia the light extended to Germany; for disturbances
in the University of Prague caused the withdrawal of hundreds of
German students. Many of them had received from Huss their first
knowledge of the Bible, and on their return they spread the gospel
in their fatherland.

Tidings of the work at Prague were carried to Rome, and Huss
was soon summoned to appear before the pope. To obey would be to
expose himself to certain death. The king and queen of Bohemia, the
university, members of the nobility, and officers of the government,
united in an appeal to the pontiff that Huss be permitted to remain at
Prague, and to answer at Rome by deputy. Instead of granting this
request, the pope proceeded to the trial and condemnation of Huss,
and then declared the city of Prague to be under interdict.
In that age this sentence, whenever pronounced, created
[101] widespread alarm. The ceremonies by which it was accompanied

were well adapted to strike terror to a people who looked upon
the pope as the representative of God himself, holding the keys of
Heaven and hell, and possessing power to invoke temporal as well
as spiritual judgments. It was believed that the gates of Heaven were
closed against the region smitten with interdict; that until it should
please the pope to remove the ban, the dead were shut out from the
abodes of bliss. In token of this terrible calamity, all the services
of religion were suspended. The churches were closed. Marriages
were solemnized in the church-yard. The dead, denied burial in
consecrated ground, were interred, without the rites of sepulture, in
the ditches or the fields. Thus by measures which appealed to the
imagination, Rome essayed to control the consciences of men.

The city of Prague was filled with tumult. A large class denounced
Huss as the cause of all their calamities, and demanded that
he be given up to the vengeance of Rome. To quiet the storm, the
reformer withdrew for a time to his native village. Writing to the
friends whom he had left at Prague, he said: “If I have withdrawn
from the midst of you, it is to follow the precept and example of
Jesus Christ, in order not to give room to the ill-minded to draw on
themselves eternal condemnation, and in order not to be to the pious
a cause of affliction and persecution. I have retired also through an
apprehension that impious priests might continue for a longer time
to prohibit the preaching of the Word of God amongst you; but I

have not quitted you to deny the divine truth, for which, with God’s
assistance, I am willing to die.” Huss did not cease his labors, but
traveled through the surrounding country, preaching to eager crowds.
Thus the measures to which the pope resorted to suppress the gospel,
were causing it to be the more widely extended. “We can do nothing
against the truth, but for the truth.” [2 Corinthians 13:8.]
“The mind of Huss, at this stage of his career, would seem to
have been the scene of a painful conflict. Although the church
was seeking to overwhelm him by her thunder-bolts, he had not [102]

renounced her authority. The Roman Church was still to him the
spouse of Christ, and the pope was the representative and vicar of
God. What Huss was warring against was the abuse of authority, not
the principle itself. This brought on a terrible conflict between the
convictions of his understanding and the claims of his conscience.
If the authority was just and infallible, as he believed it to be, how
came it that he felt compelled to disobey it? To obey, he saw, was to
sin; but why should obedience to an infallible church lead to such an
issue? This was the problem he could not solve; this was the doubt
that tortured him from hour to hour. The nearest approximation to

a solution, which he was able to make, was that it had happened
again, as once before in the days of the Saviour, that the priests
of the church had become wicked persons, and were using their
lawful authority for unlawful ends. This led him to adopt for his
own guidance, and to preach to others for theirs, the maxim that
the precepts of Scripture, conveyed through the understanding, are
to rule the conscience; in other words, that God speaking in the
Bible, and not the church speaking through the priesthood, is the
one infallible guide.”

When after a time the excitement in Prague subsided, Huss
returned to his chapel of Bethlehem, to continue with greater zeal and
courage the preaching of the Word of God. His enemies were active
and powerful, but the queen and many of the nobles were his friends,
and the people in great numbers sided with him. Comparing his pure
and elevating teachings and holy life with the degrading dogmas
which the Romanists preached, and the avarice and debauchery
which they practiced, many regarded it an honor to be on his side.
Hitherto Huss had stood alone in his labors; but now Jerome,
who while in England had accepted the teachings ofWycliffe, joined

in the work of reform. The two were hereafter united in their lives,
and in death they were not to be divided.
[103] Brilliancy of genius, eloquence and learning—gifts that win
popular favor—were possessed in a pre-eminent degree by Jerome;
but in those qualities which constitute real strength of character,
Huss was the greater. His calm judgment served as a restraint upon
the impulsive spirit of Jerome, who, with true humility, perceived
his worth, and yielded to his counsels. Under their united labors the
reform was more rapidly extended.

God permitted great light to shine upon the minds of these chosen
men, revealing to them many of the errors of Rome; but they did
not receive all the light that was to be given to the world. Through
these, his servants, God was leading the people out of the darkness
of Romanism; but there were many and great obstacles for them to
meet, and he led them on, step by step, as they could bear it. They
were not prepared to receive all the light at once. Like the full glory
of the noontide sun to those who have long dwelt in darkness, it
would, if presented, have caused them to turn away. Therefore he
revealed it to the leaders, little by little, as it could be received by
the people. From century to century other faithful workers were to
follow, to lead the people on still farther in the path of reform.

The schism in the church still continued. Three popes were now
contending for the supremacy, and their strife filled Christendom
with crime and tumult. Not content with hurling anathemas, they
resorted to temporal weapons. Each cast about him to purchase
arms and to obtain soldiers. Of course money must be had; and to
procure this, all the gifts, offices, and blessings of the church were
offered for sale. The priests also, imitating their superiors, resorted
to simony and war to humble their rivals, and strengthen their own
power. With daily increasing boldness, Huss thundered against the
abominations which were tolerated in the name of religion; and
the people openly accused the Romish leaders as the cause of the
miseries that overwhelmed Christendom.

[104] Again the city of Prague seemed on the verge of a bloody conflict.
As in former ages, God’s servant was accused as “he that troubleth
Israel” [1 Kings 18:17.] The city was again placed under interdict,
and Huss withdrew to his native village. The testimony so faithfully
borne from his loved chapel of Bethlehem was ended. He was to

speak from a wider stage, to all Christendom, before laying down
his life as a witness for the truth.
To cure the evils that were distracting Europe, a general council
was summoned to meet at Constance. The council was called, at the
desire of the emperor Sigismund, by one of the three rival popes,
John XXIII. The demand for a council had been far from welcome
to Pope John, whose character and policy could ill bear investigation,
even by prelates as lax in morals as were the churchmen of those
times. He dared not, however, oppose the will of Sigismund.

The chief objects to be accomplished by the council were to
heal the schism in the church, and to root out heresy. Hence the
two anti-popes were summoned to appear before it, as well as the
leading propagator of the new opinions, John Huss. The former,
having regard to their own safety, did not attend in person, but were
represented by their delegates. Pope John, while ostensibly the convoker
of the council, came to it with many misgivings, suspecting the
emperor’s secret purpose to depose him, and fearing to be brought

to account for the vices which had disgraced the tiara, as well as
for the crimes which had secured it. Yet he made his entry into the
city of Constance with great pomp, attended by ecclesiastics of the
highest rank, and followed by a train of courtiers. All the clergy
and dignitaries of the city, with an immense crowd of citizens, went
out to welcome him. Above his head was a golden canopy, borne
by four of the chief magistrates. The host was carried before him,
and the rich dresses of the cardinals and nobles made an imposing
display.

Meanwhile another traveler was approaching Constance. Huss
was conscious of the dangers which threatened him. He parted from [105]
his friends as if he were never to meet them again, and went on his
journey feeling that it was leading him to the stake. Notwithstanding
he had obtained a safe-conduct from the king of Bohemia, and
received one also from the emperor Sigismund while on his journey,
he made all his arrangements in view of the probability of his death.
In a letter addressed to his friends at Prague he said: “I am
departing, my brethren, with a safe-conduct from the king, to meet
my numerous and mortal enemies.... I confide altogether in the
all-powerful God, in my Saviour; I trust that he will listen to your
ardent prayers, that he will infuse his prudence and his wisdom into

my mouth, in order that I may resist them; and that he will accord
me his Holy Spirit to fortify me in his truth, so that I may face
with courage, temptations, prison, and, if necessary, a cruel death.
Jesus Christ suffered for his well-beloved; and therefore ought we to
be astonished that he has left us his example, in order that we may
ourselves endure with patience all things for our own salvation? He is
God, and we are his creatures; he is the Lord, and we are his servants;
he is Master of the world, and we are contemptible mortals;—yet he
suffered! Why, then, should we not suffer, also, particularly when
suffering is for us a purification? Therefore, beloved, if my death

ought to contribute to his glory, pray that it may come quickly, and
that he may enable me to support all my calamities with constancy.
But if it be better that I return amongst you, let us pray to God that I
may return without stain,—that is, that I may not suppress one tittle
of the truth of the gospel, in order to leave my brethren an excellent
example to follow. Probably, therefore, you will never more behold
my face at Prague; but should the will of the all-powerful God deign
to restore me to you, let us then advance with a firmer heart in the
knowledge and the love of his law.”

[106] In another letter, to a priest who had become a disciple of the
gospel, 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 trifling 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,“
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.
The pope, however, profiting little by his perfidy, was soon
after committed to the same prison. 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 [107]
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 loth 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 he was “perfectly at liberty
not to keep faith with a heretic,“ and that the council, being above
the emperor, “could free him from his word.” 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 prison, and with my fettered
hand, expecting my sentence of death tomorrow.... When, with
the assistance of Jesus Christ, we shall meet again 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.”
[108] 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. He was deeply
troubled at the sight; but the next day his grief was changed to joy, as
he beheld many artists come to replace the figures in greater numbers
and brighter colors. Their work ended, the painters exclaimed to the
crowd gathered eagerly about them, “Now let the popes and bishops
come! They shall never efface them more!” Said the reformer, as he
related his dream, “I am certain that the image of Christ will never
be effaced. They have wished to destroy it, but it will be imprinted
anew on the hearts of men by much better preachers than myself.”
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 that
of his own free will he had appeared before the council, “under the
public faith and protection of the emperor here present.” 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.” Being again exhorted to retract, he
[109] 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 a crown
or mitre, on which were painted frightful figures of demons, and
bearing the inscription, “The Arch-Heretic,” was placed upon his
head. “Most joyfully,” he said, “will I wear this crown of shame for
thy sake, O Lord Jesus, who for me didst wear a crown of thorns.”
When he was thus arrayed, the prelates devoted his soul to Satan.
Huss, looking heavenward, exclaimed, “I do commend my spirit
into thy hands, O Lord Jesus, for thou hast redeemed me.”

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 or 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.”

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 [110]
the flames rose, they began to sing hymns; and scarce could the
vehemence of the fire stop their singing.”

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 fulfill 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
[111] flames with him! to the flames!” 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 safeconduct
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 ofWycliffe and Huss, excepting, however,
the “holy truths” which they had taught.

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 [112]
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 for 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.”

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.” [Matthew 10:18-
20.] 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
[113] 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 has 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 John
Huss 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.”

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 upon 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 the holy martyr,
John Huss, my master. 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 Huss, not for having shaken the doctrine
of the church, but simply because they branded with reprobation the
scandals of the clergy,—their pomp, their pride, and all the vices
of the prelates and priests. The things that they have affirmed, and
which are irrefutable, I also think and declare like them.”
His words were interrupted. The prelates, trembling with rage, [114]
cried out, “What need have we of further proof?” “Away with the
most obstinate of heretics!”

Unmoved by the tempest, Jerome exclaimed: “What! do you
suppose that I fear to die? You have held me 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.”
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
to be judged by them? Who can understand them until 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.”
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
[115] 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.” 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 that 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.
[116] 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,
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 skillful 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 allies were greatly superior in numbers, yet
instead of advancing boldly to attack the Hussites, they stood as if
spell-bound, silently gazing upon them. 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 papist
countries of Europe. Great were the inducements held out to those [117]

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.” [Psalm 53:5.]

[118] The papal leaders, despairing of conquering by force, at last
resorted to diplomacy. A compromise was entered into, that while
professing to grant to the Bohemians freedom of conscience, really
betrayed them into the power of Rome. The Bohemians had specified
four points as the condition of peace with Rome: The free preaching
of the Bible; the right of the whole church to both the bread and
the wine in the communion, and the use of the mother-tongue in
divine worship; the exclusion of the clergy from all secular offices
and authority; and in cases of crime, the jurisdiction of the civil
courts over clergy and laity alike. The papal authorities at last
agreed to accept the four articles, stipulating, however, that the right
of explaining them, of deciding upon their exact meaning, should
belong to the church. On this basis a treaty was entered into, and
Rome gained by dissimulation and fraud what she had failed to gain
by conflict; for, placing her own interpretation upon the Hussite
articles, as upon the Bible, she could pervert their meaning to suit
her own purposes.

A large class in Bohemia, seeing that it betrayed their liberties,
could not consent to the compact. Dissensions and divisions arose,
leading to strife and bloodshed among themselves. In this strife the
noble Procopius fell, and the liberties of Bohemia perished.

Sigismund, the betrayer of Huss and Jerome, now became king
of Bohemia, and, regardless of his oath to support the rights of the
Bohemians, he proceeded to establish popery. But he had gained
little by his subservience to Rome. For twenty years his life had
been filled with labors and perils. His armies had been wasted and
his treasuries drained by a long and fruitless struggle; and now, after
reigning one year, he died, leaving his kingdom on the brink of civil
war, and bequeathing to posterity a name branded with infamy.

Tumults, strife, and bloodshed were protracted. Again foreign
armies invaded Bohemia, and internal dissension continued to distract
the nation. Those who remained faithful to the gospel were
subjected to a bloody persecution. As their former brethren, entering [119]
into compact with Rome, imbibed her errors, those who adhered to
the ancient faith had formed themselves into a distinct church, taking
the name of “United Brethren.” This act drew upon them maledictions
from all classes. Yet their firmness was unshaken. Forced
to find refuge in the woods and caves, they still assembled to read
God’s Word and unite in his worship.

Through messengers secretly sent out into different countries,
they learned that here and there were isolated confessors of the
truth—a few in this city and a few in that, the object, like themselves,
of persecution; and that amid the mountains of the Alps was
an ancient church, resting on the foundations of Scripture. This
intelligence was received with great joy, and a correspondence was
opened with the Waldensian Christians.

Steadfast to the gospel, the Bohemians waited through the night
of their persecution, in the darkest hour still turning their eyes toward
the horizon like men who watch for the morning. “Their lot was
cast in evil days, but they remembered the words first uttered by
Huss, and repeated by Jerome, that a century must revolve before
the day should break. These were to the Hussites what the words
of Joseph were to the tribes in the house of bondage: ‘I die, and
God will surely visit you, and bring you out.’” About the year 1470
persecution ceased, and there followed a period of comparative
prosperity. When “the end of the century arrived, it found two
hundred churches of the ‘United Brethren’ in Bohemia and Moravia.
So goodly was the remnant which, escaping the destructive fury of

fire and sword, was permitted to see the dawning of that day which
Huss had foretold.”