What must have been the feelings of Huss as the guard escorted him hack to his cell! For six months he had been kept a close prisoner. His health had given way under the hardships to which he had been subjected. Once his life had been in such danger that the council were like to lose their victim, and from policy rather than compassion he was removed to a more airy and comfortable cell, and the pope’s physician had been sent to attend him. With the interval of a slight recovery, he was again attacked with a new access of his severe distemper. "I have been," so he writes, "a second time dreadfully tormented with an affection of my bladder, which I never had before, and with severe vomiting and fever; my keepers feared I should die, and they have led me out of my prison." This was probably for a few moments to enjoy the fresh air. His keepers seem to have been moved to compassion by his sufferings, and some of them appear to have shown him no little kindness. After four months’ imprisonment at Constance, Huss was removed to Gottlieben. Here his situation was changed much for the worse. His prison was the tower. In the day-time he was chained, yet so as to be able to move about. At night, on his bed, he was chained by his hand to a post. His subsequent treatment was still more harsh. His keepers were changed after the flight of the pope—and not for the better. His friends were not allowed to see him. New attacks of his disease—violent head-aches, hemorrhage, colic—followed in consequence of this close and cruel confinement. For more than two months his sufferings were extreme. It was not till the beginning of the month of June that he was removed from his prison at Gottlieben, and conveyed to Constance. Without the uninterrupted quiet of even a single day, his trial proceeded. He found himself compelled to meet it in infirm health, and in a most weak and exhausted condition. He had demanded of the judicial committee an advocate to manage his cause for him, but this, which he was at first encouraged to expect, was finally refused him, on the ground that no such privilege could be granted to a heretic. He was thus presumed guilty even before he was tried. Gerson did not hesitate afterwards to ascribe the condemnation of Huss to the injustice of this proceeding. "Had he been allowed an advocate, the council would never have been able to convict him of heresy." Huss was undoubtedly disappointed at the refusal of a request so just and reasonable. Yet he calmly submitted to the wrong. "Well, then," said he, "let the Lord Jesus be my advocate, who also will soon be my judge."

He was thus forced of necessity to depend upon himself alone for his defense. In chains, and in the endurance of the most severe sufferings, he was obliged to draw up his answers to the charges presented. And here he found, to his grief and indignation, that the most unfair advantages had been taken of him. Passages from intercepted letters, in part distorted, and conversations with theologians once his friends, but who had now deserted him, in which he had used familiar expressions in confidence, were recalled and employed to his prejudice. His letters to his friends at Prague, by a system of espionage as well as through their indiscretion, had fallen into the hands of his enemies, and been used against him. Paletz sometimes visited him in prison, and sought to overwhelm him by harsh language. "Sad greeting" Huss calls it, as well he might. He speaks of Paletz generally as his fiercest enemy, who did him the most injury. Still his Christian spirit, overcoming every revengeful thought, led him to pray, "May God Almighty forgive him." "Yet," says he, "never in my whole life did I receive from any man harsher words of comfort than from Paletz." In such circumstances as these Huss had to look around him for the means of making his defense. But he found himself totally in want of books. At first he had not even a Bible, and was obliged to ask his friends to procure him one. He says, indeed, that he had brought with him the Sentences of Lombard and a Bible, but he could not have taken them with him into his prison. Could the cruelty of his enemies have deprived him even of these? It must have been so.

All these things were enough to have driven any ordinary man to despair. To be denied an advocate; to have his few books withheld from him; to have numerous and skilful enemies taking every possible advantage of his helplessness, in framing charges of which he was long kept in ignorance; to know that the learning, talent, and sympathies of the whole council, spurred on by the bitterest malice, were arrayed against him, was enough to discourage the efforts and palsy the energies of any man whose help was not in a more than mortal arm. Enfeebled by disease, worn out with suffering and want of sleep, he had been called to appear before the council and enter upon his defense. On every side he saw hostile faces and prejudiced judges. His conscientious scruples were met by derision, and his arguments were answered by ridicule. He was frequently interrupted or cut short in his replies. New articles were presented, which he had never seen or heard of until the moment when they were produced. His request for a further and fuller hearing was met by threats of the consequences should he persist in his demand of what had been promised. A form of retraction had been presented him, which he could not conscientiously adopt. His request to be instructed in what respects he had erred, that he might intelligently disavow his errors, was set aside. He saw before him, instead of an impartial jury, a band of men, through malice or prejudice, conspiring to effect his ruin. Well might he look around him as he left the council, disheartened and despondent. We can but follow him as he is led back to his prison, with the sympathies ever due to the innocent and the wronged. How slowly and sadly must the hours of a sleepless night have dragged along, bringing new burdens and anxieties, instead of repose to his exhausted frame! Now his mind reverts to the scenes of the previous day, and the tumultuous assembly, like a stormy sea of angry faces, is present before him. He recalls the years that are past, and stands again in his Bethlehem chapel, in the presence of those who had been awakened to a new life by his thrilling words. Forgetting the tragedy of which he is to be the victim, he is only anxious that the cause for which he has labored may still live on, nurtured to a more vigorous growth by the ashes of his funeral pile. The light of another day at last steals in upon the prisoner, restless on his bed, and brought back to self-consciousness by the clanking of his chain. He recalls, as his exhausted energies will permit him, the points on which he alternately hopes and despairs to be permitted to address the council. How fondly he lingers over the possibility that some at least in that assembly who shall hear his words, shall carry them away in memory, and thus in after days be enabled to repeat to others the lessons of his dying testimony. Fully convinced he is, that the truth he has preached shall still live. The God of truth will not suffer it finally to perish. A century or even centuries may pass over it, buried beneath martyr’s dust, but the time of its resurrection and triumph will come at last.

At his last appearance before the council, Huss had vainly been urged to accept the terms they had presented. But he could not conscientiously recant doctrines that he had never held, nor could be disavow those of the error of which he was not convinced. A milder farm of abjuration had been promised him by Zabarella, the Cardinal of Florence. This, it was intimated, he might safely subscribe. To this course he was advised and urged by some of his friends, more anxious for his life than he was himself. This form was brought to Huss in his prison by the Cardinal of Ostia, the president of the council. It had been drawn up by their order, and the tenor of it was as follows:

"I, John Huss, etc., in addition to the protestations made by me, which I hereby renew, do protest, moreover, that although many things are imputed to me which I never entertained the thought of, I submit myself with humility to the merciful orders and correction of the sacred council, touching all things that have been objected or imputed to me, or drawn from my books, or, in fine, proved by the deposition of witnesses—in order to abjure, revoke, and retract them, and to undergo the merciful penance imposed by the Council, and generally to do all that its goodness shall judge necessary for my salvation, recommending myself to its pity with entire submission." In this formula of recantation there was manifest a greater leniency than was exhibited by the Bohemian enemies of Huss. Cardinal Zabarella, by whom it was probably drawn up, was evidently more inclined to moderation and mercy than many other members of the council. And although no one dared openly to advocate his cause, we have every reason to believe that among the few in the council who were kindly disposed to him, or at least sought to save his life, there were some of no little influence. The presiding cardinal, John de Viviers of Ostia, treated him with humanity and kindness. There were strong inducements, not only in the hope of saving his life, but in the entreaties and persuasions of his friends, to lead Huss to adopt the form of recantation that had been drawn up. But it was here, and in these very circumstances, that his character shone forth most brightly. He had no ambition to found a sect, or attain notoriety by putting forth new and strange dogmas. His constant appeal—and this was his real crime in the eyes of the council that had judged the pope, and allowed no other being, human or divine, to share its tribunal—was to the word of God. Nobly did he exhibit, and heroically did he adhere to that principle which was the stronghold, a century later, of the great German reformer.

Huss could not accept the form of recantation drawn up for him, grateful as he expressed himself for the kindness by which it had been modified, if not dictated. He felt that to adopt it would be a compromise of principle. Calmly and clearly he stated his reasons for rejecting it: "My father," said he, in reply to the cardinal, "may the Almighty Father, most wise and holy, count you worthy the reward of eternal glory, through Jesus Christ. Most reverend father, I am truly grateful for your kind and fatherly favor. But I dare not submit, according to the tenor of this proposition made by me to the council. For in such a case I must needs condemn many truths, an act which (as I have heard from their own lips) they call scandalous. Besides, through such an abjuration I must perjure myself by the confession that I have held errors. By these things should I give scandal to the people of God, who heard from me in my preaching that with which this would be inconsistent. If therefore Eleazar, under the Old Testament, of whom we read in Maccabees, would not falsely confess that he had eaten meat by the law forbidden, lest he should sin against God, and leave an evil example to those that should come after him, how shall I, a priest of the New Testament, although unworthy, for fear of a punishment which will soon be passed, consent, by a grievous sin, to transgress the law of God—first, by departing from the truth, secondly, by committing perjury? In truth, it is better for me to die, than, by flying from a momentary pain, fall into the hands of God, and perhaps have fire and everlasting contempt for my portion. And, inasmuch as I have appealed to Jesus Christ, the most powerful and righteous Judge, committing his own cause into his hands, I do therefore abide by his most holy decree and sentence, knowing that he will judge each man, not according to false testimony, nor according to fallible councils, but according to truth and individual desert."

Such an answer, from one whose words meant what they expressed, was worthy of, and could have proceeded only from a spirit lifted above the world, and made heroic by faith in God. Many, no doubt, of the friends of Huss regretted the decision which he had made. Under the pressure of the immediate danger of his life, they would at least have counseled him to temporize. One of these, a member of the council, whose kindness Huss had before experienced, sought to overcome by gentle persuasions the scruples which he felt in regard to recanting. "As to your first objection," said he, "let not this, my most loving and beloved brother, have weight with you, that you thus condemn the truth. For it is not we, but they, who condemn it—they who now are your and my superiors. Consider the saying, ‘Lean not to thine own understanding.’ There are many learned and conscientious men in the council. ‘My son, hear the law of thy mother.’ This much to your first objection.

"As to the second, in regard to perjury: This perjury, if it be perjury, would recoil not upon you, but upon those who require it. Your views on these subjects are not heresies unless you persist obstinately in maintaining them. Augustine, Origen, the Master of Sentences, and others have fallen into error, but they cheerfully forsook it. I have many times believed myself to be acquainted with matters in which I was ill-informed. When set right, I joyfully returned to correct views.

"I write, moreover, briefly, for I write to a man of understanding. You will not recede from the truth, but will approximate to the truth. You will not perjure yourself, but will better yourself. You will not give scandal, but you will edify. Eleazar was a noble Jew. Judas, with his seven sons and the eight martyrs, was nobler. St. Paul was let down from the wall secretly in a basket, that he might work out better things. May Jesus Christ, the judge of your appeal, grant you apostles, and these are they. Conflicts yet await you for the faith of Christ."

By others, also, Huss was urgently pressed to recant. Again and again, both in private and public, he was beset by the importunities of those who felt for him a strong attachment, or who, highly respecting his character and talents, wished to snatch him from the flames. The council, moreover, with all the eagerness of some of its members for the severest measures, could not be altogether blind to the wiser policy of forcing Huss to acknowledge publicly the supremacy and infallibility of their judgment. The question, in fact, was reduced to this: The council, or private judgment—which must yield? The council would allow no rival. They had deposed a pope, and the acknowledgment of their supremacy was with them a vital point. Huss could not blindly submit to place them in the seat of Christ—to enthrone them above the word of God. This was his crime. In the eyes of the council it was an aggravated one, and it ensured his doom.

The prisoner remained steadfast in his purpose. His conscience forbade him to sacrifice the truth. To all the solicitations of friendship, to all the authoritative advice of members of the council, to public and private persuasions, he remained equally unmoved. "I would sooner," said he, "have a millstone bound about my neck, and be cast into the sea, than give occasion of scandal to my neighbor; and, having preached to others constancy and endurance, I will set them an example, looking for help to the grace of God." There was never in the prisoner a moment’s wavering. Among others that visited him was Paletz, his former friend. He evidently had not counted on the constancy of Huss. Resolved to humble him as a rival, he could scarce have sought his life. All the persuasions of Paletz were employed to shake the prisoner’s firmness. "Put yourself," said Huss, "in my place. What would you do if you were thoroughly assured that you had never held the errors which they wish you to retract?" "I confess," said Paletz, "it is hard," and for once the tears filled his eyes. The persecutor paid his victim the tribute of sympathy, wrung out by respect for truthful constancy, and perhaps the memory of former friendship. It is not impossible that remorse for his conduct, which was leading to a strangely fatal result, had something to do with his tears.

In one of his letters Huss gives the substance of the argument of one of the doctors who was urging him to a blind submission to the council. "Even though the council," said he, "should tell you that you have but one eye, and you have two, you would be bound to assent to their statement." "And I," replied Huss, "while God spares my reason, would never allow such a thing, though the whole world were agreed upon it, because I could not say it without wounding my conscience." No wonder the doctor was confused by the reply. The illustration he had selected was too ridiculous for ridicule. It only set the conscientiousness of Huss, as well as the absurdity of the demands made upon him, in a too obvious light.

Nothing now remained for Huss but to prepare himself and his friends for the fatal result which his own constancy rendered inevitable. Carefully and clearly does he lay down the principles upon which his conduct was based. He does not trifle with his fate. His words are calm and serious, as were befitting his circumstances. "Often," says he, "have the demands of the council upon me been urged. But, inasmuch as they imply that I recant, abjure, and submit to penance, in matters of truth which I must give up—requiring me to abjure, and perjure myself by confessing errors falsely imputed to me; demanding that I should give offense to many of God’s people to whom I have preached, for which I should deserve that a mill-stone should be tied about my neck, and I be cast into the midst of the sea; and because, if I should submit, in order to escape a temporary trouble and penalty, I should plunge myself into far greater, unless I should repent—for these reasons I cannot yield. And for my consolation, I think of the seven martyrs of the Maccabees, who chose rather to he cut in pieces than disobey God by eating flesh. I think, moreover, of Eleazar, who would not even say that he had eaten flesh contrary to the law, lest he should set an evil example to those that should come after him, choosing rather to endure martyrdom. Wherefore, having these before my eyes, as well as many holy men and women of the New Testament who gave themselves up to martyrdom because they would not consent to sin; and, moreover, having preached so many years on the duty of constancy and endurance, I cannot but say of a course by which I must utter many falsehoods, and commit perjury, giving offense to many of God’s children—far be it, far be it from me! For my Master, Christ, shall be hereafter my reward, while even now he gives me the aid of his presence."

Such were the reasons which Huss repeatedly and on different occasions urged in defense of his course. They were neither fanciful nor fanatical, but such as would be appreciated by his friends and followers at Prague. To these he wrote from time to time as occasion offered, and his letters were publicly read in the Bethlehem chapel, where his voice had once been so often heard. "My dear brethren," so he writes hack to Bohemia, "I have thought that it might be well to admonish you how my books written in the Bohemian language have been condemned in the council of Constance—though itself full of pride, avarice, ambition, and almost every vice—as being heretical. They have hardly been seen or read, or, if read, not understood. ... If ye had been present here at Constance, ye would have seen this council, called holy, and therefore claimed to be infallible, as though it could not err, to be shameful and scandalous; for the very citizens of this country say, as I have heard, that this city will not recover in thirty years from the sins and scandals of this council." He bids his friends not to be frightened at the decision against his books. "They have attempted to frighten me from the truth of Christ, but the strength of God in me they have been unable to overcome. ... They would not venture to discuss with me, though I professed my willingness to be instructed, on the authority of the Sacred Scriptures. ... Not by these, but by terrors and threats have they tried to overcome me. But the God of mercy, to whose word I bow, is with me, and still will be, as I am confident, and in his grace will keep me even until death."

In another letter Huss reminds his friends of the treatment of the books of Jeremiah—full as harsh as that which his own had experienced, and yet they were not suppressed. In later times the sacred writings were burned, as well as the works of several of the fathers, but they could not be suppressed. He bids them not to neglect his books, or give them to his enemies to be burned. As to themselves, they need not be terrified. The forces of Antichrist would perhaps leave them at peace. The council of Constance world scarcely come to Prague, and some of his followers, he believed, would sooner die than give up his books.

Even in the danger in which Huss found himself of his life, he did not fear to give free expression to the severe judgment he had formed of his judges. He speaks of their having condemned their head, while many of themselves were guilty of the same crimes. "Would to God," says he, "that in this council it had been said by divine authority, ‘Let him that is without sin among you first pass sentence.’ Undoubtedly they would have gone forth, one after the other. Why, then, have they heretofore bowed to him, kissed his feet, called him Most Holy, when they have known and seen that he was a heretic, a murderer, a reprobate wretch, as they have publicly charged him with being? Yea, why did the cardinals speak of him as holy, when they knew that he murdered his predecessor? Why did they allow him, while he was yet pope, to drive such a traffic as he did in holy things? They are his counselors for the very purpose of giving him the best advice, and if they failed to do it, are they not equally guilty? ... I think we may plainly see Antichrist revealed in the pope, and others present at the council."

Such were the views which Huss had held at Prague—now confirmed by his experience at Constance—and in the conviction of the truth of which he was willing to die. In full anticipation of the final result, he wrote, on the tenth of June, a letter to his friends in Prague, in which he gives them for the last time—as he feared—his counsel and encouragement. In this parting address, that might be almost dated from the martyr’s stake, he speaks with an apostolic earnestness and unction. He forgets no class, neither rich nor poor, male nor female, but adapts his words to the circumstances of each.

"I, Master John Huss in the hope that I am God’s servant, wish, on behalf of all the faithful of Bohemia who love God, that they may live and die in the grace of God, and at last be saved. Amen. Ye princes, high and low, I pray for and admonish you, that ye obey God, reverence his word, and live according to it. I beseech you to abide in the truth of God, which I have preached and written to you from his word and from the holy prophets. I beseech you, if any one among you has heard from me, by public speech or otherwise, or has read in my books, anything contrary to the truths of God, that you reject it, although I am not conscious of having written or taught any such error.

"I beseech, moreover, if anyone has observed any levity in my speech or conduct, that he copy not my example, but intercede with God in my behalf that such levity may be forgiven me. I beseech you to love and hold in high esteem those priests who discharge well the duties of their office, especially those who labor in the word of God. But beware of the wicked, especially those Godless pastors that go about, as the Master says, in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye nobles, I beseech you, deal fairly with your subjects, and maintain just government. Ye burghers, I beseech you that ye each live in his estate in such a manner as to keep a clear conscience. Ye artisans, labor faithfully, and earn your bread in the fear of God. Ye servants, serve your masters in truth. Ye schoolmasters, instruct the youth to purity of life, and teach them with diligence and fidelity. First of all, that they fear God, and keep him before their eyes. Then, that they study with all diligence, not for gain or the honor of the world, but for God’s glory, the good of men, and their own salvation. Students in the university, and all other pupils, I pray you be obedient to your masters in all that is honorable and praiseworthy, following their good example, and diligently studying, that by your means God’s glory may be promoted, and yourselves with others advance in all that is good.

"Finally, I pray you all gratefully to regard the excellent lords Wenzel de Duba, John de Chlum, Henry Plumlow, William Zagetz, and other nobles from Bohemia, Moravia, and Poland, and treat them with studious respect. For many a time have they set themselves against the whole council, and manfully defended the truth, exerting themselves to the utmost to save my life, especially Duba and Chlum, to whom you may give full credit in the entire account which they will render you of what has taken place. For they have been often by, when I have answered before the council, and they know who those Bohemians are who have treated me with severity and harshness, and how the whole council cried out against me when I merely answered the questions which they asked.

"I beseech you, moreover, to pray to God for the emperor, and for your king and queen, that the God of mercy may be with and among you forever.

"This letter have I written to you in prison and in chains, and this morning I have heard of the decision of the council that I must be burned. But I have full confidence in God that he will not forsake me, nor permit me to deny his truth, or with perjury confess as mine the errors falsely imputed to me by lying witnesses. But how gently God my Master deals with me, and supports me through surprising conflicts, ye shall learn when, amid the joys of the life to come, we shall, through the grace of Christ, behold one another again.

"Of my dear friend, Master Jerome, I hear nothing, except that he is kept close in prison, where, like me, he awaits death for the faith which he has manifested in Bohemia. But our bitterest enemies, the Bohemians who have ill-treated us, go from bad to worse. I beseech you, pray God in their behalf. But this one thing I do especially beseech of you, that ye cherish the Bethlehem church, and faithfully attend to it as long as God shall give you grace, that God’s word be preached therein; for of such a church is the devil the sworn enemy, and he raises up against it the priests and their tools, for he sees that by its means his kingdom is in danger of being broken up. But I hope in God that he will sustain the church in his good pleasure, and cause his word to be imparted there through others more largely than it has been by my poor efforts.

"I beseech you, love one another—swerve not from the truth. Meditate upon it—how the righteous may not be crushed. Given on Monday night before the day of St. Vitus, by a faithful messenger."

Such was the calm and manly tone of this letter of Huss, written under the impression that it would be his last! It manifests throughout a noble and Christian spirit. There is no railing at his enemies. There is no wild fanatic enthusiasm. There is no despondency. In a more than human strength he prepared himself to meet his fate.

But events of which Huss was not aware led to a postponing of the time of his execution. While the council had resolved that if he should refuse to recant he should be burned, and this fact had been communicated to him to awe and frighten him into submission, they had also secretly resolved, in the confident expectation that he would consent to the form of recantation, that, after having given this consent, he should for the remainder of his life be doomed to close imprisonment. The tenor of this proposed decree, giving hope of the issue which the council most desired, shows that among its members there were those who entertained no doubt of being able to persuade Huss to recant, and save his life. This proposed decree is worthy of being given entire, as it shows what the tender mercies of the council would have been even in case Huss had submitted. It is as follows:

"But, inasmuch as from some manifest signs it is conjectured that the said John Huss experiences contrition for his former sins, and, influenced by sound advice, is desirous of returning to the truth of the church of God, with a pure heart, and with faith unfeigned, therefore this holy council cheerfully allows him to present himself voluntarily, for the purpose of abjuring and revoking all heretical pravity and error, specially the errors of John Wickliffe, receiving him, upon confessing of his own accord, with the prodigal son, the sins he has committed and manifesting penitence, and absolving him, humbly seeking absolution from the sentence of excommunication which rests upon him. But, inasmuch as from the doctrines of the said John Huss, unsound, inconsistent with the faith, and full of error, innumerable scandals and seditions have sprung up in the church of God, and among the people, and through him grievous sins have been committed against God and the holy church in the matter of perverse doctrine, and contempt for the keys and censures of the church, to the imminent danger of the Catholic faith, therefore this present most holy council decrees and declares that the said John Huss, as a man scandalous, seditious, pernicious to the holy church of God, shall be deposed and degraded from the sacerdotal rank, or whatever rank in the church he may hold, committing, nevertheless, to the most reverend fathers in Christ, the archbishop of Milan, the bishops of Feltri, Asti, Alexandria, Bakora, to execute in a becoming manner, as the order of the law requires, the degradation of John Huss in the presence of this most holy council; and the council pronounces and decrees that John Huss, as a man dangerous to the Christian faith, for the aforesaid reasons, shall be immured and imprisoned, and ought to be immured and imprisoned, and thus perpetually to remain, and shall be proceeded against in other respects according to canonical sanctions."

This sentence was to have been read in case Huss should consent to abjure, when his degradation from the priesthood was immediately to follow. The impression, thus shared by the council, that Huss would yet be induced to recant, was due in part undoubtedly to the hopes of the prisoner’s friends, rather than to any words or actions of his own. From first to last, the idea of escaping by a feigned retraction seems never to have entered his mind. On the morning of the tenth of June, such an announcement of the action of the council was made to him—with the intention, no doubt, to induce him to recant—as led him to believe that he was to be executed the following day. Under this impression he wrote his farewell letter to the Bohemians. But the next day came, and the next, and the execution of the sentence was still deferred. It is not surprising that in the mind of the prisoner there should have sprung up a faint hope that he might yet be delivered from the power of his enemies. In his letters, which he still continued to write to his friends in Prague during this interval, we see traces enough of this latent and feeble hope to show us that Huss did not regard death with the indifference of a stoic, or prolonged life with the repugnance of a misanthrope. He felt, in the sense in which Paul did, that it was Christ for him to live, but if truth demanded a victim, he was ready to be offered up. In the doubtful hope that he might yet be by some means rescued, he writes: "Our Savior recalled Lazarus to life after he had lain in the grave four days, and had upon him the smell of corruption. He preserved Jonah three days in the belly of the fish, and sent him back to preach again; he called forth Daniel from the den of lion, to record the prophecies; kept the three young men in the furnace from the power of the flames, and liberated Susannah when already condemned to death. Therefore, easily might he deliver me too, poor mortal!—if it served to promote His own glory, the progress of believers, and my own best good—for this time, from prison and from death. For His hand is not shortened, who by his angel led Peter, while the chains of his hands fell off, from the dungeon, when already condemned to die at Jerusalem. But ever let the will of the Lord be done, which I desire may be fulfilled in me, to his glory and to my own purification from sin."

Huss did not fail to write again to his friends at Prague as soon as the opportunity was afforded. "God be with you," he says, "my most beloved in the Lord. I had strong reasons to believe that my previous letter to you would be my last, so near then was the prospect of the goal of death. But now, when I learn that I am spared, my joy is that I may write to you yet once again, and testify my gratitude. As it concern my death, God knows why I and my dear brother, Master Jerome, are not executed. He, as I hope, will die innocent and blameless, and he gives evidence that he will suffer and die more courageously than I, poor sinner! But God has kept us so long in prison, that we may think so much the more humbly on our past sins, and so much more deeply repent of them; and he has given us time and space for the severe conflict which blots out great sins, and that our conversation may be so much the more abundant. Yea! he has given us time enough, in order that we might so much the more fully reflect upon the shameful ignominy and cruel death of our loved King, the Lord Christ, and be so much the more patient to suffer. Thus may you learn that eternal joys are not to be reached through the joys of this world, but the saints, through much tribulation and anguish, have pressed into the kingdom. For some of them were hewn asunder; some were spit upon; some sodden; some flayed alive, or buried alive, stoned, crucified, crushed between mill-stones, and dragged hither and thither until they died. Some were drowned, burned, hung, torn in pieces, and, before they died, shamefully and cruelly treated in prison. But who could undertake to recount all the forms of pain and martyrdom which were endured under the Old Testament, and have been repeated since, to the shame and disgrace of those who inflicted them—the ecclesiastics! Why should anyone then be surprised that now, with all their base deeds and the injuries they inflict, they remain unpunished? Indeed, I rejoice that they have been forced to read my hooks, in which their baseness is plainly set forth, and I know that they have read them far more diligently than they read the holy gospel, only that they may discover something with which they may be able to find fault."

The anxiety of the council, and especially of the emperor, to induce Huss to retract, led them to continue efforts of exhortation and persuasion. The emperor at least could not contemplate the prospect of the execution of Huss without apprehension as to the results that might follow. It would undoubtedly exasperate the whole Bohemian nation, and their execration would fall, not without reason, upon his own head. The cry of an indignant people, and perhaps the secret reproaches of his own conscience, arose before him and made him hesitate. He had gone too far with the council already to attempt to shield Huss from the sentence of death, unless some retraction on his part could be secured. The attempt to do it would only exasperate the council and lead it to counteract his schemes, or perhaps regard him as implicated in heresy. The abjuration of Huss alone could relieve the emperor from his perplexity; and to obtain it he spared neither prayers, persuasion, nor threats. From first to last, all these efforts were vain. "I have refused to abjure," so Huss writes to the University of Prague, "at least till the articles I hold are proved to be erroneous on the authority of Sacred Scripture." He disavowed any wish to cling to anything incorrect which could be found in his writings. "I exhort you," he says, "to hold in detestation whatever you shall find to be false in my articles."

The efforts of the emperor to induce Huss to abjure, only filled the prisoner with a sad and melancholy pity for his oppressor. He would not have exchanged places with him for the world. "Place not your confidence in princes of the earth," wrote he to his Bohemian friends. Sorely had he been deceived in his estimate of the character of Sigismund. He now acknowledged the more correct apprehensions of his friends. "Truly did they say that Sigismund would himself deliver me up to my adversaries; he has done more—he has condemned me before them."

Thus by his firmness Huss forced the emperor to incur the disgrace of his own conduct, and, had he sought revenge for the violation of the imperial faith, he had it in denying him the power to rescue him from the funeral pile.

The most sanguine friends of Huss must by this time have become fully convinced that his doom was sealed. The firmness of his purpose was proof against all persuasions. His mind was fully made up to meet the result which appeared inevitable. His main anxiety now was to secure such an audience before the council as had been promised him by the emperor.

It only remained for him to take a final leave of his earthly friends and interests. In letters of touching pathos he utters his farewell to those to whom he was bound by a mutual attachment. He wrote to Hawlik, his successor in Bethlehem chapel, urging him not to oppose the doctrine of the cup. He exhorted Christiann of Prachatitz to diligence in pastoral duty, and requested him to greet, in his name, Jacobel and the friends of truth. He admonished the members of the university to mutual love and sobriety of conduct, stating to them also the reasons which forbade him to recant, while he prayed for his enemies that God would forgive them. He begged them to stand by Bethlehem chapel, and to appoint Gallus as his successor. To their love and confidence he recommended his faithful friend, Peter the Notary. To his benefactors he returns his hearty thanks, admonishing them to stand fast in their fidelity, and expressing his confidence that God would repay them for what they had done in his behalf. He expresses his apprehension that a severe persecution of the true servants of God in Bohemia would follow his death, unless God should make use of the civil power to prevent it.

To his friends generally, whom he does not venture to name lest the unavoidable omission of some should give offense, he extends his salutations, declaring it his unshaken purpose not to recant, yet protesting his desire to be instructed that he might disavow any article which could be shown to be false. He expresses his sense of obligation to the king and queen, the barons and nobles of Bohemia and Moravia, and especially to the Bohemians in Constance, for their friendly offices, and their efforts to secure his liberation. From his own experience, he admonishes his friends not to put their trust in an arm of flesh. To Chlum (June 29) be addresses cheering words of the future glory with Christ, of those who suffer for him now. Of his different friends, including Martin, Peter the Notary, Duba, the family of Liderius, and others, be takes leave, in tender and affecting words. He urges that care should be taken of his letters, and that they should be carried back to Bohemia, lest his friends should be implicated or brought into danger by means of them. The lines which he received from time to time from his friends, he immediately destroyed.

In the letter in which he narrates his sad interview with Paletz, he expresses his joyful assurance of the heavenly glory that shall crown his martyrdom, and his confidence in the strength which Christ alone can impart, praying for "a fearless spirit, a true faith, a firm hope, and perfect charity." He does not forget his nephews (sons of his brother), but directs that they should be placed in some secular calling, since he feared that if they were educated for the priesthood, they would not discharge its duties as they ought. He dissuades his friends generally from coming to him at Constance, for fear of the consequences; and the sight of Christiann, who had come in the vain hope of serving him, completely unmanned him, and melted him to tears. All the provision which he could make for the payment of his debts at Prague, was made, and in case it proved insufficient, he begged his creditors to forgive him for the sake of their common Master, Christ.

Disburdened of other care, Huss was now anxious only for a final hearing before the council. He begged that the emperor might be present, and that he might himself have a place assigned him near the imperial presence. He requested also that the noble knights, Chlum, Duba, and Latzembock, would take good care to be present, to witness to his words, and prevent any false reports in regard to his statements from going abroad.

In the prospect of the doom before him, Huss sought a confessor. Whom would he select? Scarcely could he wish for such a one as the council would appoint. He could value but lightly the absolution conferred by hands stained with simony and corruption. His conscience was void of offense, and at peace with God, and no superstitious reverence for the priesthood induced him to believe that his salvation was dependent on sacerdotal absolution. It was undoubtedly more with the desire of a full and free conference with his former friend, than from any other motive, that he sought the privilege of having a confessor granted him, and asked that Paletz might be appointed.

Nothing could more fully testify the humility and the forgiving spirit of Huss than this request. He felt that he had been wronged by those Bohemians who, before the council, had pursued him with unrelenting hostility. Among these Paletz had held the foremost rank, and he it was whom Huss, with a magnanimity unsurpassed, selected to hear his dying confession. Of him he had most to complain, and to him he had the most to forgive. "Alas!" said he, "the wounds which we receive from those persons in whom our soul has placed its hope, are the most cruel; for to the sufferings of the body are joined the pangs of betrayed friendship. In my case it is from Paletz that my most profound affliction proceeds." Again he says, "Paletz is my greatest adversary; it is to him that I wish to confess myself." This request of Huss was refused him, and in his place the bishops sent a monk, whom he speaks well of, and who, after having given him absolution, recommended to him to submit, but without absolutely commanding it.

Paletz, moreover, who had previously been applied to, had refused. He recoiled from the painful task which the humility and magnanimity of Huss had imposed. He was, however, vanquished by the nobleness and generosity of the prisoner’s conduct, and he determined to visit him in his cell.

When Huss saw him enter, he addressed him not in the language of reproach or passion, but in a mild and melancholy tone. "Paletz," said he, "I uttered some expressions before the council that were calculated to offend you. Pardon me." This was undoubtedly the confession which he most desired to make. And now he had made it, and Paletz was his confessor. His persecutor was deeply affected, and entreated Huss to abjure, undoubtedly with the deepest sincerity, for he never seems to have apprehended that his prosecution would cost him the life of one that was once his friend, and whom he could never have ceased really to respect. "I conjure you," said he, "do not look to the shame of retracting, but only to the good that must result from it." "Is not the opprobrium," replied Huss, "of the condemnation and the punishment greater in the eyes of the world than that of the abjuration?" "How, then," asked Huss, as if in gentle reproach for the imputation of such a motive, "How, then, can you suppose that it is a false shame which prevents me?" It was on this occasion, probably, that Huss asked the question before referred to, of Paletz, what he would do if the case were his own, and he were required to retract errors that he never held. With tears Paletz confessed that the case would be hard indeed. "Is it possible," rejoined Huss, "that you, who are now in this state before me, could have said in full council, when pointing to me, ‘that man does not believe in God?’" Paletz denied having said it. "You said so, however," repeated Huss, "and, in addition, you declared that since the birth of Jesus Christ there never was seen a more dangerous heretic. Ah! Paletz, Paletz, why have you wrought me so much evil?" Paletz replied by again exhorting him to submit, and then withdrew, weeping bitterly.

It is no wonder that, in the excited state of the prisoner’s mind, and in the solitude of his cell, his dreams should have partaken of the character of his waking thoughts, or that they should have assumed a prophetic aspect. He believed that in this manner he had received intimations of future events. "Know," he writes to his friends, "that I have had great conflicts in my dreams. I dreamed beforehand of the flight of the pope, and after relating it, Chlum said to me in my dream, ‘The pope will also return.’ Then I dreamt of the imprisonment of Jerome, though not literally according to the fact. All the different prisons to which I have been conveyed have been represented to me beforehand in my dreams. There have also appeared to me serpents, with heads also on their tails, but they have never been able to bite me. I do not write this because I believe myself a prophet, or wish to exalt myself, but to let you know that I have had great temptations, both of body and soul, and the greatest fear lest I might transgress the commandment of our Lord Jesus Christ."

What must have been the strength of the consolation by which Huss was sustained amid all the gloomy scenes and trials of his tedious and cruel imprisonment, and especially with no prospect of relief except by death! In the noble letter which he wrote on the eve before the festival of St. John the Baptist, he displays the grounds of his comfort, peace, and confidence. "Much consoles me," he says, "that word of our Savior, ‘Blessed be ye when men shall hate you. Rejoice ye in that day, and leap for joy, for, behold, great is your reward in heaven.’ A good consolation; nay, the best consolation; difficult, however, if not to understand, yet perfectly to fulfill, to rejoice amid those sufferings. This rule James observes, who says, ‘My beloved brethren, count it all joy when you fall into divers temptations; knowing this, that the trying of your faith, if it is good, worketh patience.’ Assuredly it is a hard thing to rejoice without perturbation, and in all these manifold temptations to find nothing but pure joy. Easy it is to say this, and to expound it, but hard to fulfill it in very deed. For even the most steadfast and patient warrior, who knew that he should rise on the third day, who, by his death, conquered his enemies, and redeemed his chosen from perdition, was, after the last supper, troubled in spirit, and said, ‘My soul is troubled even unto death’; as also the gospel relates, ‘that he began to tremble, and was troubled’; nay, in his conflict he had to be supported by an angel, and he sweat, as it were, great drops of blood falling down to the ground; but he who was in such trouble said to his disciples, ‘Let not your heart be troubled, and fear not the cruelty of those that rage against you, because ye shall ever have me with you to enable you to overcome the cruelty of your tormentors.’ Hence his soldiers, looking to him as their king and leader, endured great conflicts, went through fire and water, and were delivered. And they received from the Lord the crown of which James speaks, 1:12. That crown will God bestow on me and you, as I confidently hope, ye zealous combatants for the truth, with all who truly and perseveringly love our Lord Jesus Christ, who suffered for us, leaving behind an example that we should follow in his steps. It was necessary that he should suffer, as he tells us himself; and we must suffer, that so the members may suffer with the head; for so he says, ‘Whoever would follow me, let him take up his cross and follow me.’ O most faithful Christ, draw us weak ones after thee, for we cannot follow thee if thou dost not draw us. Give us a strong mind, that it may be prepared and ready. And if the flesh is weak, succor us beforehand by thy grace, and accompany us, for without thee we can do nothing, and least of all, can we face a cruel death. Give us a ready and willing spirit, an undaunted heart, the right faith, a firm hope, and perfect love, that patiently and with joy we may for thy sake give up our life." Such was the letter of Huss—worthy of the noblest of the martyrs. Only in its subscription does it show any trace of the errors or peculiarities of the Romish church. It closes thus: "Written in chains, on the vigils of St. John, who because he rebuked wickedness was beheaded in prison: may he pray for us to the Lord Jesus Christ."

Huss had written what he supposed was his farewell letter to his countrymen. During the season of his reprieve—if such it may be called—he writes to various friends. Some of these have already been referred to. But one of the last was addressed to Chlum, who seemed to him dearer than a brother. Many a time had his cheering words, or the warm grasp of his hand, or his genial sympathy, brought comfort to the lonely and neglected prisoner. Huss now expresses to this noble knight his joy at hearing that he meant to renounce the vanities and toilsome services of the world, and, retiring to his estates, devote himself wholly to the service of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose service was perfect freedom. In like manner, he expresses his joy at learning that the knight Duba had resolved to retire from the world and marry. "It is even time for him," he writes, "to take a new course, for he has already made journeys enough through this kingdom and that, jousting in tournaments, wearing out his body, squandering his money, and doing injury to his soul. It only remains for him therefore to renounce all these things, and, remaining quietly at home with his wife, serve God, with his own domestics around him. Far better will it be, thus to serve God, without cares, without participation in the sins of the world, in good peace, and with a tranquil heart, than to be distracted with cares in the service of others, and that, too, at the imminent risk of his own salvation." To his friend Christiann, the rector of the university, he writes: "My friend and special benefactor, stand fast in the truth of Christ, and embrace the cause of the faithful. Fear not, because the Lord will shortly bestow his protection and increase the number of his faithful. Be gentle to the poor, as thou ever hast been. Chastity I hope thou hast preserved; covetousness thou hast avoided, and continue to avoid it; and for thy own sake, do not hold several benefices at once; ever retain thy own church, that the faithful may resort for help to thee as an affectionate father." Jacobel, moreover, with "all the friends of the truth," are saluted. The letter is subscribed, "written in prison, awaiting my execution at the stake." Last of all, Huss wrote his second farewell letter to his friends at Prague. He besought them that for his sake who would be already dead as to the body, they would do all that lay in their power to prevent the knight of Chlum from coming into any danger. "I entreat you," he writes, "that you will live by the word of God, that you obey God and his commandments, as I have taught you. Express to the king my thanks for all the kindnesses he has shown me. Greet in my name your families and your friends, each and all of whom I cannot enumerate. I pray to God for you: do you pray for me? To him shall we all come, since he gives us help."

This letter of Huss, so full of Christian kindliness of feeling, was written probably on the fourth day of July, in the immediate expectation of his martyrdom. In the addition which he made to it on the following day, was a sort of postscript to inform them of his approaching execution: "Already I am confident I shall suffer for the sake of the word of God." He begged his friends, for God’s sake, not to allow any cruelty whatever to be practiced against the servants and the saints of God. He makes the bequest of his fur cloak with a small sum of money, to the friendly notary, Peter; to others, small legacies, or some of his books; it was nearly, if not quite all, that he had to give. Instead of being rich, as was charged in prison, he had to request his friends to discharge for him a few small debts, that his creditors might not suffer.

One of the last requests that Huss had to make of his friends was addressed to the faithful Chlum. He wished this brave man whom he loved so tenderly, to remain with him to the last. "O thou, the kindest and most faithful friend," said he, "may God grant thee a fitting recompense! I conjure thee to grant me still this—not to depart until thou hast seen everything consummated. Would to God that I could be at once led to the stake before thy face, rather than be torn away in prison, as I am by perfidious maneuvers! I still have hope—I still have confidence—that Almighty God will previously snatch me from their hands to himself, through the merits of his saint. Salute all our friends for me, and let them pray to the Lord that I may await my death with humility and without murmuring."

It was in this spirit that Huss prepared himself for the final scene. Many were the letters written and messages sent, which spoke in the calm and touching eloquence of a martyr, to the persons to whom they were addressed. His first and last anxiety was, that they should be faithful to the truth—not of his own teachings, for they might be in some respects erroneous—but of the word of God. To some who might be called to follow him to the stake, he addressed such exhortations as were enforced by his own example. "Fear not to die," said he to priest Martin, one of his disciples, "if thou desirest to live with Christ, for he has himself said, ‘Fear not them that kill the body, but cannot kill the soul.’" And yet Huss gave his friend this rare counsel, as remarkable for prudence as modesty: "Should they seek after thee on account of thy adhesion to my doctrines, make them this reply: I believe that my master was a good Christian; but, in regard to his writings and instructions, I have neither read all, nor comprehended all."

In his adieus, Huss showed no respect of persons. He remembered the poor as well as the rich. He speaks of the cordwainers in the same breath with the doctors and the magistrates. Several of the families of his church in Prague are mentioned in one of his letters as specially to be saluted. His words to them "recommend them to be zealous for the love of Christ, to advance in humility with wisdom, and not to indulge in comments of their own making, but to recur to those of the saints."

Among the enemies of Huss none had shown a more inveterate and unrelenting malice than Causis. Unlike Paletz, his heart was moved neither to sympathy and compassion, nor to remorse. Several times the hardened wretch had gone to the prison where Huss was confined, and exclaimed, exulting in the savage cruelty of his nature over his destined victim, "By the grace of God, we shall soon burn this heretic, whose condemnation has cost me much money." But even this failed to excite in Huss any revengeful feelings. "I leave him to God, and pray for this man most affectionately," was the language in which he spoke of the virulent persecutor.

A noble object does Huss thus present for our study and admiration. Sometimes depressed by the fears and weakness of the flesh, but never declining the crown of martyrdom; loving his own life in the hope of future usefulness, but far more anxious for the truth he had preached; surrounded by the extreme of human terrors, yet still exclaiming, "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" Kindly does he remember his friends while he forgives his enemies. His last hours and his last earthly counsels are given to the cause he loved, and to his friends—some perhaps soon to follow him in the thorny path of suffering for the cause of truth.