ocean," and so are an "emblem of his doctrine, diffused throughout the world." Thus perished this man, after as terrible and prolonged a fight with the " principalities, and powers of this world," close leagued with those of "darkness," as ever was fought by martyr or confessor; -the more terrible that it was fought by him alone, the first of the long and illustrious procession of martyrs of Reformation who were destined, with Milton has it,) "to shake the Powers of Darkness, and scorn the fiery rage of the Old Red Dragon." Huss trod his dark path alone, unsupported by the example of that "cloud of witnesses" who gave courage to his successors: by himself was he to hush the doubts which could not but assail any man who undertook to assert his opinions against the voice of all prescription, armed with all power; and this, too, amidst imprisonment, sickness, "cruel mockings," and every form of wrong. In a word, he drank the cup of martyrdom drop by drop, with every conceivable ingredient of bitterness in it, involving in all probability, a sum of suffering of which, after all, the last brief fiery agony was the least part. To the deep shadows which often rested on his soul, amidst his prison solitude, there are some touching allusions in his letters; he there speaks of the dark forebodings which troubled him, and of the terrible dreams which sometimes haunted his sleep.* As the voluminous accounts of martyrdom scarcely present us with any scene that reminds us more strongly of our blessed Lord in the hall of Pilate and amidst the soldiers of Herod: so, there is none in which the example of the great Master has been more completely copied by the disci-the unresistable might of weakness," (as ple. The patience, dignity, and fortitude of a Christian were marvellously displayed in the whole deportment of the martyr. He "partook of the sufferings of Christ" and "the glory of Christ rested on him." It was something wonderful, that, as he was of too high and hardy a spirit to quail under the accumulated wrongs and cruelties of his persecutors, this very spirit did not betray him into momentary passion or irritation that after being so fiercely chased he did not at last turn on the hunters, and resent, with unseemly defiance, the insufferable indignities heaped upon him. Luther would certainly have raged like a lion in the toils; Huss was led as "a lamb to the slaughter." But this is only half his praise; he was inflexible as gentle. Neither the open violence of the Council, nor the artful interrogatories with which he was plied in prison; neither threats and intimidations, nor promises and cajolery; nor, what was hardest to resist of all, the earnest importunities of friendly voices, could warp his steadfast spirit. And this inflexibility, conjoined with such meekness and patience, give to the character and conduct of Huss, an air of moral sublimity which the world has rarely seen equalled. Even the page of L'Enfant, the copious chronicler of the Council of Constance, one of the most honest and laborious, but also one of the dullest, of historians, lights up with a glimmer of animation, and is ruffled with something like energy and pathos, when he comes to depict the closing scenes of the life of the great Bohemian Reformer.* *One of the most touching and noble appeals made to the Reformer is that of John de Chlum; an appeal which, though it must have cost Huss a pang to part with such a friend, must have sounded in his ears. had he needed such a stimulus, like a trumpet. When every hope was lost, and De Chlum was about to separate from the martyr for the last time, he addressed him in these words: "My beloved Master, I am unlettered, and consequently unfit to counsel one so enlightened as you. Nevertheless, if you are secretly conscious of any one of those errors which have been publicly imputed to you, I do entreat you not to feel any shame in retracting it; but if, on the contrary, you are convinced of your innocence, I am so far from advising you to say anything against your conscience, that I exhort you rather to endure every form of torture than to renounce anything that you hold to be true." Huss replied with tears, that God As we read the tragic story, it is impossible not to feel our indignation kindle against the corrupt Church which burned him, or murmuring with those souls beneath the altar," How long, O Lord, how long?" While it is true that John Huss was a pioneer of the Reformation, it is also true that the Reformation he sought was not of doctrine so much as of morals and of government. He pleaded, quite justly, that he was not guilty of the heresies of which his enemies accused him: he was, as already said, burned for very different reasons. He was orthodox on transubstantiation, believed in the intercession of saints, worshipped the Virgin Mother, held by purgatory and prayers for the dead; and, though he thought the cup ought to be given to the laity, did not make even that, (which was the bond and characteristic symbol of his followers,) an essential point. In inveighing against the monstrous evils of the great Schism, was his witness, how ready he had ever been, and still was, to retract on oath, and with his whole heart, from the moment he should be convicted of any error by evidence from Holy Scripture. *Especially in letters xxiii, xxxii, Huss, Oper. In one, he speaks of a dream in which frightful serpents seemed to be crawling about him. against the corruptions in the government | resistance at Worms, the absolute supremof the Church, and the vices of her ministers, acy of conscience, unless its errors be demhe had done little more than many others onstrated by clear proof from what both both before him and after him. Nay, at of them affirmed to be alone the ultimate auConstance itself almost equal freedom was thority in matters of faith, -the Scripture. used. But, as Waddington justly observes, Though much more than this is required the offence of Huss consisted in this that for a full and consistent system of religious the "Bible," and not the "Church," was liberty, it was a large instalment of it; and the source of his reforming zeal. for vindicating so much of the great charter of the "Rights of Conscience," and ratifying it with a martyr's seal, John Huss is entitled, to be held in lasting and grateful remembrance. It would have been well if the Reformation that Huss contemplated had included dogma; for there could be no effectual reformation without it. Hence chiefly it was that Luther's was more durable and efficacious. Both reformers had their eyes first opened by those moral enormities which most readily struck the sense, and which were the ne plus ultra of the recession of the Church from Christian truth. Both spoke with almost equal vehemence against false miracles, indulgences, and the vices of the clergy. But Luther looked further, and saw deeper; and attacked, one after another, those corruptions of doctrine which were the secret roots of the evils in practice. So little force is there in the modern and too favourite notion, that dogma is of little or no consequence, or that one set of dogmas is nearly as good as another! Looking at men in general, as are their convictions (supposing these firm and sincere), such also will be their life, whether good or evil. The superstition which buries truth, and the scepticism which doubts whether there be any, are in the end almost equally pernicious to the morals of mankind; both alike tend to repress all that is noble and magnanimous in our nature. What we find true in politics, is certainly not less true in theology; and we all know what sort of patriot and statesman he is likely to prove who believes that it matters not what party-badge he wears or what political creed he professes; who doubts whether it be not wisest to let the world jog on as it will, and to acquiesce in any time-honoured abuse, or inveterate corruption which it will give trouble and involve sacrifice to extirpate. But there is this difference in the two cases, that the world will tolerate in theology the character which it is too astute not to abhor in politics. It is in vain, however, to blame Huss for not going deeper or further. He lived a century before Luther; and neither he nor his contemporaries were prepared in the fifteenth century to receive or act upon views which were feasible only in the sixteenth. But to this high praise he is unquestionably entitled, that he asserted the very same maxim on which Luther justified his It has been seen that really Huss penetrated very imperfectly into the evils of Popery. By some, however, the contrary would seem to be assumed; for he has been represented, not only as the precursor but the prophet of the Reformation; and an appeal has been made to certain medals, (supposed to have been struck contemporaneously with his death, or shortly after it,) inscribed with a prediction that "after a hundred years his oppressors should answer to God and to him Centum revolutis annis Deo respondebitis et mihi." L'Enfant has examined this matter with his usual fullness and fairness, and shown that there is no ground for supposing these medals to be anterior to the Lutherian Rẹformation, and that there is nothing in any of the acknowledged remains of Huss, which show that he pretended to anything more than merely mortal presages as to the future of the papacy. It is true there are expressions which show that he felt convinced that the evils of the Church were so enormous that a time of Reformation must come; that a tree so rotten must fall. But they only prove that he saw what many a mind between Huss and Luther saw as clearly. Nor is it possible to read many of the satires on the clergy during the middle ages, without being convinced that those who have wrote and read them must have divined that a system, the corruptions of which were so notorious, so odious, and so ridiculed, could not be very long maintained. It was a probability on which any mind of more than moderate perspicuity might safely speculate; just as we may now confidently predict from the present symptoms and position of the Papacy that it will, within a very short time, perhaps in less than one brief year, be the subject of startling revolutions. There it stands, an anachronism in the world's history; with all its errors stereotyped; stationary amidst progress, and immutable amidst change; showing in the late Encyclical that it does not in the slightest degree recede from aspirations and pretensions to which it is im possible to give effect; regarding all that read the prophetic year by the Julian calenpasses around it with a smile of senile mad-dar, or otherwise, would be thus significant. ness; the patron still, so far as it can or dare In point of fact, both periods have been very act upon them, of the very principles which significant, the first as heralding the Euroled it to persecute Huss and Luther; the pean Revolutions (and amongst them, that at lion still, but an old lion, with teeth broken Rome) which led to the occupation of Rome and claws pared; with the worst possible by the French; and the second as signalgovernment of its own, and acting as a uni- ised by the imperial Convention which is to versal obstructive (wheresoever it has influ- terminate it. But, as already said, it is imence) to the formation of others that are bet- possible not to distrust minute interpretater; giving the world infinite plague, and a tions of unfulfilled prophecy. While we source of perpetual difficulty and worry to hold with Bishop Butler, that it is imposEurope; with its subject nations more and sible for any man who compares the history more divided as to the extent of their alle- of the world with the prophetic pages of giance, and as to the measure of the faith to the Bible, not to be struck with the general be reposed in its Decrees; while on the other conformity between them; and, while we hand, we see it about to be deserted by the may well believe that, as the scroll of the secular supports which have so long upheld future is read by the light of events, that it, and challenged to try whether it can view will be strongly corroborated, it is difkeep itself from tumbling down. If the ficult to imagine, from the very nature of French Emperor had studied, for ten years prophecy, (addressed as it is to a world together, how to involve it in difficulties, governed by moral laws, and yet predicting and perhaps Europe with it, he could not events which are to admit of no possibility have thought of anything better than of being either accelerated or frustrated,) his somewhat enigmatical Convention." that it can be otherwise than conjecturally Whether fairly carried out with all its interpreted. He who would pry too closely appendant conditions, or not, it offers al- into unfulfilled prophecy, is like the too cumost equally perilous alternatives to rious Athenian, who wished to know" what Rome. It is impossible for any man not it was that the philosopher was carrying to presage -as Huss and Luther could concealed under his cloak?" "I carry it in their day-that a time of startling there," was the reply, "for the very purchange is at hand. pose of concealing it." It is much the same with the enigmas of unfulfilled prophecy till the event makes them plain. And if we too importunately inquire as to the future, that may be said to us, which was said to those who asked the Saviour, "Lord, wilt thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?" "It is not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath put in his own power." If we could put faith in what most of us must always be very distrustful of, the interpretation of unfulfilled prophecy, it would be difficult not to be startled by the singular coincidence that the time fixed by many interpreters, (and some of them lived long ago,) for the dénouement of the great papal drama synchronises with that fixed for carrying out the imperial Convention, namely, the year 1866; for surely it is not easy Meanwhile, it does not require any great to imagine the Emperor Napoleon determin- sagacity to believe that startling changes ing his policy by conjectural interpretations are coming upon that wonderful fabric of the Apocalypse! It is very certain, not which it took so many centuries to compact, only that some recent interpreters have fix- and has already taken so many to disinteed on that year as being a significant epoch grate; that, "after the Convention," chaos; for the Papacy, but that, Fleming, more and that none need particularly covet to be than a hundred and fifty years ago, predict-in Rome in the month of December, 1866. ed that either 1848 or 1866, according as we CHAPTER LX. ROGER HAMLEY'S CONFESSION. please God to send him back safe, he would put his fate to the touch. And till then he would be patient. He was no longer a boy to rush at the coveted object; he was a man capable of judging and abiding. Molly sent her father, as soon as she could find him, to the Hall; and then sate down to the old life in the home drawing-room, where she missed Cynthia's bright presence at every turn. Mrs. Gibson was in rather a querulous mood, which fastened itself upon the injury of Cynthia's letter being addressed to Molly, and not to herself. "Considering all the trouble I had with her trousseau, I think she might have written to me." "But she did her first letter was to you, mamma," said Molly, her real thoughts still intent upon the Hall upon the sick child-upon Roger, and his begging for the flower. "Yes, just a first letter, three pages long, with an account of her crossing; while to you she can write about fashions, and how the bonnets are worn in Paris, and all sorts of interesting things. But poor mothers must never expect confidential letters, I have found that out." "You may see my letter, mamma," said Molly; "there is really nothing in it." "And to think of her writing, and crossing to you who don't value it, while my poor heart is yearning after my lost child! Really life is somewhat hard to bear at times." ROGER had a great deal to think of as he turned away from looking after the carriage as long as it could be seen. The day before, he had believed that Molly had come to view all the symptoms of his growing love for her, symptoms which he thought had been so patent, as disgusting inconstancy to the inconstant Cynthia; that she had felt that an attachment which could so soon be transferred to another was not worth having; and that she had desired to mark all this by her changed treatment of him, and so to nip it in the bud. But this morning her old sweet, frank manner had returned -in their last interview, at any rate. He puzzled himself hard to find out what could have distressed her at breakfast-time. He even went so far as to ask Robinson whether Miss Gibson had received any letters that morning; and when he heard that she had had one, he tried to believe that the letter was in some way the cause of her sorrow. So far so good. They were friends again after their unspoken difference; but that was not enough for Roger. He felt every day more and more certain that she, and she alone, could make him happy. He had felt this, and had partly given up all hope, while his father had been urging upon him the very course he most desired to take. No need for "trying" to love her, he said to himself, that was already done. And yet he was very jealous on her behalf. Was that love worthy of her which had once been given to Cynthia? Was not this affair too much a mocking mimicry of the last? Again just on the point of leaving England for a considerable time! If he followed her now to her own home,- in the very drawing-room where he had once offered to Cynthia! And then by a strong resolve he determined on this course. They were friends now, and he kissed the rose that was her pledge of friendship. If he went to Africa, he ran some deadly chances; he knew better what they were now than he had done when he went before. Until his return he would not even attempt to win more of her love than he already had. But once safe home again, no weak fancies as to what might or might not be her answer should prevent his running all chances to gain the woman who was to him the one who excelled all. His was not the poor vanity that thinks more of the possible mortification of a refusal than of the precious jewel of a bride that may be won. Somehow or another, THIRD SERIES. LIVING AGE. VOL. XXXII. 1463. - Then there was a silence - for a while. "Do tell me something about your visit, Molly. Is Roger very heart-broken? Does he talk much about Cynthia?" "No. He does not mention her often; hardly ever, I think." "I never thought he had much feeling. If he had had, he would not have let her go so easily." "I don't see how he could help it. When he came to see her after his return, she was already engaged to Mr. Henderson - he had come down that very day," said Molly, with perhaps more heat than the occasion required. 66 My poor head!" said Mrs. Gibson, putting her hands up to her head. "One may see you've been stopping with people of robust health, and excuse my saying it, Molly, of your friends of unrefined habits, you've got to talk in so loud a voice. But do remember my head, Molly. So Roger has quite forgotten Cynthia, has he? Oh! what inconstant creatures men are! He will be falling in love with some grandee next, mark my words! They are making a pet and a lion of him, and he's just the kind I should have thought that it was a little of weak young man to have his head turned mortifying to Roger who must naturally by it all; and to propose to some fine lady have looked upon himself as his brother's of rank, who would no more think of marry- heir-to find a little interloping child, half ing him than of marrying her footman." French, half English, stepping into his "I don't think it is likely," said Molly, shoes!" stoutly. "Roger is too sensible for anything of the kind." "You don't know how fond they are of him, the squire looks upon him as the apple of his eye." Molly! Molly! pray don't let me hear you using such vulgar expressions. When shall I teach you true refinement - that refinement which consists in never even thinking a vulgar, commonplace thing? Proverbs and idioms are never used by people of education. Apple of his eye!' I am real "That's just the fault I always found with him; sensible and cold-hearted! Now, that's a kind of character which may be very valuable, but which revolts me. Give me warmth of heart, even with a little of that extravagance of feeling which misleads the judgment, and conducts into romance. Poor Mr. Kirkpatrick! That was just his character. I used to tell him that his lovely shocked." for me was quite romantic. I think I have told you about his walking five miles in the rain to get me a muffin once when I was ill? "So imprudent, too! Just what one of your sensible, cold-hearted, commonplace people would never have thought of doing. With his cough and all." "I hope he didn't suffer for it?" replied Molly, anxious at any cost to keep off the subject of the Hamleys, upon which she and her stepmother always disagreed, and on which she found it difficult to keep her temper. "Yes, indeed, he did! I don't think he ever got over the cold he caught that day. I wish you had known him, Molly. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if you had been my real daughter, and Cynthia dear papa's, and Mr. Kirkpatrick and your own dear mother had all lived, People talk a good deal about natural affinities. It would have been a question for a philosopher." She began to think on the impossibilities she had suggested. "I wonder how the poor little boy is ?" said Molly, after a pause, speaking out her thought. "Poor little child! When one thinks how little his prolonged existence is to be desired, one feels that his death would be a boon." "Mamma! what do you mean?" asked Molly, much shocked. "Why every one cares for his life as the most precious thing! You have never seen him! He is the bonniest, sweetest little fellow that can be! What do you mean?” "I should have thought that the squire would have desired a better-born heir than the offspring of a servant, with all his ideas about descent, and blood, and family. And - "Well, mamma, I'm very sorry; but after all, what I wanted to say as strongly as I could was, that the squire loves the little boy as much as his own child; and that Roger oh! what a shame to think that Roger And she stopped suddenly short, as if she were choked. " "I don't wonder at your indignation, my dear!" said Mrs. Gibson. "It is just what I should have felt at your age. But one learns the baseness of human nature with advancing years. I was wrong, though, to undeceive you so early-but depend upon it, the thought I alluded to has crossed Roger Hamley's mind!" "All sorts of thoughts cross one's mindit depends upon whether one gives them harbour and encouragement," said Molly. "My dear, if you must have the last word, don't let it be a truism. But let us talk on some more interesting subject. I asked Cynthia to buy me a silk gown in Paris, and I said I would send her word what colour I fixed upon-I think dark blue is the most becoming to my complexion; what do you say?" Molly agreed, sooner than take the trouble of thinking about the thing at all; she was far too full of her silent review of all the traits in Roger's character which had lately come under her notice, and that gave the lie direct to her stepmother's supposition. Just then they heard Mr. Gibson's step downstairs. But it was some time before he made his entrance into the room where they were sitting. "How is little Roger?" said Molly, eagerly. 66 Beginning with scarlet fever, I'm afraid. It's well you left when you did, Molly. You've never had it. We must stop up all intercourse with the Hall for a time. If there's one illness I dread, it is this." "But you go and come back to us, papa." |
