Like seed borne upon the winds, the truths to which Wycliffe had drawn attention spread far and wide. It fell on congenial soil in Bohemia. About that time Conrad of Waldhausen had assailed, in that country, the depravity of the mendicants and other abuses. He died in 1369. About the same time Militz and Mathias of Janow had both opposed the prevailing corruptions. The former died in 1374 and the latter in 1394. They all died in peace, because, although they attacked the current evils, which were patent to all, they did not attack the doctrines of the Church.
Anne, the daughter of the King of Bohemia, had married Richard II of England. She was a godly woman and had the gospels both in the Bohemian and the German tongues. This marriage formed a link between the two countries, and many young Bohemians came to Oxford to study, while Englishmen were likewise to be found studying at Prague. When the queen died, her attendants took Wycliffe’s writings with them to their native land.
John Huss, a Bohemian of humble origin but no small ability, studied at Prague and became late rector of the University, an office he held only for a short time. In 1402 he was ordained and became preacher in a chapel called Bethlehem, built especially for the purpose of preaching in the Bohemian tongue, a practice previously unknown. He was a thoroughly honest, upright man who could not endure the religious corruption of his day without witnessing against it. He severely rebuked the clergy in his sermons, thereby incurring their enmity. He rigorously attacked the popular superstitions, the unwholesome reverence for relics, and the craving after miracles, in order to satisfy which many of the clergy had descended to what were merely tricks to deceive the masses. His attacks on the vices of the clergy being continued, the Archbishop complained to the King, but without result.
Huss now met Jerome. Jerome was a layman who had traveled in various lands, including England, where he heard of Wycliffe’s doctrines and was sufficiently interested to copy two of his books. The two men had much in common.
The Church, seeing the hold which Wycliffe’s teachings were obtaining in Bohemia, condemned them, and in 1405 the Archbishop of Prague was ordered by the Pope to suppress these heresies. Huss incurred further criticism at this time because he was not prepared unreservedly to condemn Wycliffe’s teachings. In 1409 it was forbidden to propagate in the University those of Wycliffe’s teachings which were regarded as heretical.
Huss was now ordered to cease preaching in Bethlehem chapel. A great bonfire was made of Wycliffe’s works, an action which called forth a protest from Huss. He and his associates were excommunicated. Popular feeling became inflamed by the controversy, and riots occurred in the city. When John XXIII became pope, an influential appeal was made to get the ban on Huss removed. Huss also wrote to the Pope himself and denied he was a heretic. As a matter of fact, he accepted the principal dogmas of the Church, such as transubstantiation, and was not, therefore, technically a heretic.
About this time the Pope proclaimed an iniquitous crusade against the King of Naples, offering full indulgences to those who took part in the war. Huss and Jerome were stung into protest against such iniquity — that absolution from sin should be offered as a reward for shedding blood. The advocates of the Papacy were more furious than ever. This was the year 1412. Public excitement was roused to a high pitch. The King intervened and threatened capital punishment to any who insulted the Pope. Huss, however, continued his protests. One day a preacher of the crusades, offering his indulgences, was challenged by three young men of the working class, who said that Huss had taught them the vanity of such indulgences. They were apprehended, condemned and hastily executed, an act which greatly inflamed the passions of the multitude, who regarded the young men as martyrs. Meanwhile the controversy continued unabated; Huss denied that any human judge could forgive sins and affirmed that there was no need to fear unjust excommunication.
In 1413 all Wycliffe’s books were condemned by Rome to be burned indiscriminately, Huss was anathematized, and Prague (except for the area where the King resided) was put under an interdict and any who supported Huss were warned they would share his fate.
The glaring evils rampant in the Church had become a disgrace to Christendom, while added to this there was now the pitiable spectacle of two rival popes anathematizing each other and even raising armies to fight one another. According to their own estimates of each other, there were not three popes, but three Antichrists reigning in Christendom. At the Council of Pisa in 1409, the two rival popes were deposed and Alexander V was recognized. The result was there were then three popes, each doing his utmost to maintain his position. Alexander V died the next year and was succeeded by John XXIII, a notoriously wicked man. He was, however, persuaded by the Emperor Sigismund to call another Council, which met at Constance and which sat for four years from 1414 to 1418. This Council deposed John and one of the other popes, while the third resigned, and Martin V was elected pope. The great object of the Council, the reform of the Church, was not achieved; the leopard cannot change its spots. Those who formed the Council were themselves (with perhaps some exceptions) colored by the prevailing vices. Yet the hollow mockery of a form of godliness was maintained. The daily proceedings began with a devoutly worded prayer to the Holy Spirit, the Emperor Sigismund read the gospel, and the Pope celebrated mass.
Many of those who addressed the Council condemned the prevailing abuses in scathing terms. If testimony were needed as to the corruption of the professing Church of that day, it would be found in ample measure in the proceedings of the Council of Constance. But if the Council of Constance did no lasting good, it branded itself with eternal infamy by the condemnation and death of two holy men — Huss and Jerome.
Huss went to Constance to refute the charges against him. Although his safety and liberty had been assured by the solemn promise of the Emperor Sigismund, he was, nevertheless, soon after his arrival at Constance cast into a dungeon and loaded with fetters. The vile conditions under which he was immured nearly terminated his life, but his captors did their best to restore him that their prey might not thus escape their clutches. Strangely enough, Pope John himself, who had presided at the opening meeting of the Council and had subsequently escaped when he saw matters going against him, was brought back as a prisoner to the same castle.
Huss was now put on trial, a trial which was a mere travesty of justice. Many false accusations were laid to his charge. These he denied. In other cases he appealed to the Scriptures. A form of recantation was prepared which he refused to sign.
One of the doctors who visited Huss said to him, “If the Council should tell you that you have but one eye, though you have really two, you would be obliged to agree with the Council.”
“While God keeps me in my senses,” replied Huss, “I would not say such a thing against my conscience on the entreaty or command of the whole world.”
On the night before his death, Huss wrote that the Council had exhorted him to renounce every one of the articles which had been extracted from his books. He absolutely refused unless they could prove from the Scriptures that his doctrines were erroneous.
As a matter of fact, Huss himself was not free from many of the teachings of Rome, such as transubstantiation, but he was a preacher of righteousness, and the truths he saw and held he preached. Satan knew that he was a dangerous enemy and must be silenced. Sentence was pronounced against him, and his books were condemned. He was formally degraded by first clothing him with the garments of his priestly office and then stripping them from him, uttering a curse at each stage. A paper crown with devils painted on it was placed upon his head. “Now we commit your soul to the devil,” said one of the bishops. Huss said, “O Lord Jesus Christ, unto Thee I commend my spirit which Thou hast redeemed.” As he approached the stake, he prayed fervently and then said, “Lord Jesus, I humbly suffer this cruel death for Thy sake, and I pray Thee to forgive all my enemies.” He was fastened to the stake and the fire was kindled, the faithful martyr continuing to call on God while his breath remained.
Jerome, friend and associate of Huss, viewed the imprisonment and trial of his friend with deep concern. He went to Constance, but finding himself unable to help Huss, he left again. He too was summoned to appear before the Council, and shortly afterwards he was arrested and led in chains to Constance. His first appearance before the Council was a signal for general uproar; his examination was punctuated by violent outbursts from the assembly. Jerome was led back to prison, where he was bound to a post and his hands were chained to his neck, in which position he was kept for ten days and supplied only with bread and water. This cruel treatment was somewhat mitigated later, but he remained in prison till his execution.
Tremendous indignation was aroused in Bohemia by the martyrdom of Huss, and the Council thought it prudent to avoid, if possible, a second martyrdom. Jerome was urged to recant; weakened by the awful treatment he had borne in prison and consequent illness, he gave way, but it did not result in his release. On the contrary, a second trial was proposed. God now gave his faithful witness an opportunity for a fuller testimony. Standing before his judges, he pointed out that he had been kept for nearly a year in prison under painful and rigorous conditions, while his accusers were given every opportunity of building up a case against him. The accusations were so numerous that the court adjourned for three days. On May 26, 1416, he was given a further hearing. After having answered the various charges, he began to speak in his own defense. He drew attention to many who before him had been borne down by false witnesses and unjustly condemned. He disowned his recantation as the greatest crime he had ever committed. He boldly ranged himself on the side of Huss and Wycliffe, save that he held to the Roman dogma of transubstantiation. On May 30 he was brought before the Council for the last time. The Bishop of Lodi preached a sermon on Mark 16:14: He “upbraided them with their unbelief and hardness of heart.”
Jerome replied in a powerful and pathetic speech. Poggius, onetime Secretary of Pope John XXIII, who was present at the trial, was deeply affected by Jerome’s address. In a letter to a friend written on the day of the trial, he said, “I never knew the art of speaking carried so near the model of ancient eloquence. It was amazing to hear with what force of expression, fluency of language and excellent reasoning he answered his adversaries, nor was I less struck with the gracefulness of his manner, the dignity of his action and the firmness and constancy of his whole behavior. It grieved me to think so great a man was laboring under so atrocious an accusation. Whether this accusation be just or not, God knows: I make no inquiry into the merits of the case; I submit to those who know more of it than I do,” and further on he writes: “It was impossible to hear this pathetic orator without emotion. Every ear was captivated and every heart touched. Throughout his whole oration he showed a most amazing strength of memory. He had been confined almost a year in a dungeon, the severity of which usage he complained of, but in the language of a great and good man. In this horrid place he was deprived of books and paper, yet notwithstanding this and the constant anxiety of his mind, he was no more at a loss for proper authorities and quotations than if he had spent the intermediate time at leisure in his study.” Such was the testimony of an eyewitness and a papist.
The rest of the awful story is soon told. Like Huss, he was treated with all the contempt and ignominy his enemies could devise. A mocking crown being placed on his head, he said, “The Lord Jesus Christ, my God, was crowned for my sake with a crown of thorns, and I will gladly wear this crown for His glory.” He then knelt down for a few minutes and, rising up, sang the creed. He was led to the stake, stripped of his clothes, and bound to it, and there in the midst of the flames he sang the words, “O Lord, into Thy hands I resign my spirit.” Then just as he was saying, “Thou hast redeemed us,” he was suffocated by the flame and smoke, and his spirit departed to be with Christ. This took place on May 30, 1416.
The new pope, Martin V, was chosen on November 11 in the following year, but it soon became apparent that no radical reforms were to be made. The rules for the administration of his chancery sanctioned the very corruptions the Council had denounced —such as annates, expectancies and reservations. The Council, which had asserted its superiority over the Pope and claimed the right to depose bad popes, was now dissolved by the new pope.
In May 1418, the Pope left Constance for Rome in a scene of pomp which had few parallels in history. Arrayed in splendid robes, he rode under a canopy, supported by four counts, while the Emperor held his horse’s bridle on one side and the duke of Brandenburg on the other. It is said the whole cavalcade amounted to forty thousand persons. The Papacy was again victorious and was to continue its career of evil unchecked for another hundred years.