`Come back, young fiery spirit,
If but one hour, to learn
The secrets of the folded heart,
That seemed to thee so stern.'
IN the morning, one of the town-sergeants entered the prison, and with a cheerful, congratulatory air desired Hubert to follow him. ‘I may wish you joy, sir,' he said, ‘for I think your troubles are over now. A fine thing it is for a man to have a good lord, to stand by him and to take his part! The Chancellor of Paris has spoken for you, as a scholar of fair repute, and one of his own household. At his request, you are to be put into his hands to deal with as he thinks fit. That means, that you will be let off with a "do so no more," just for form's sake.'
`Such kindness is worthy of my noble lord, who hath ever used me far better than I deserve,' said Hubert, as he put on his gown, and prepared to follow the friendly sergeant. He was brought by him to the chancellor's house, and there formally delivered over to Charlier, who received him in the name of his master, and gave the sergeant a written acknowledgment for his person.
No sooner were they alone, however, than Charlier turned upon him angrily: ‘You troublesome, rebellious young fool!’ he said. ‘It was an ill day for my lord when he took you out of the prison of the Sorbonne, which your own misdeeds had got you into. So you must needs disgrace him and his household in the eyes of the Holy Council, and of all the world! It was a light thing for you to lose his letter, and neglect his work—in your eagerness to run off to the Brühl and see the Burning. Bad enough, indeed, but a light thing, I say, compared with the affair of the Placard. One would think your narrow escape at the Sorbonne might have taught you the danger of lampooning your betters. But to some men there is no teaching anything. Nevertheless, the business will have had one good result. My lord knows you now, Master Hubert Bohun; and we shall see an end of the partiality and favoritism that so wronged his excellent judgment.'
The hot young blood sprung to Hubert's forehead, but he kept silence, as he thought of the scene in the church, and the insults endured with patience there. He simply asked Charlier, ‘Will my lord be pleased to see me himself? ‘Perhaps he will, at his leisure, though it is more than you deserve.'
But the chancellor did not make Hubert wait upon his leisure. He sent for him immediately; and Charlier, as if he was still a prisoner, led him into his presence. Hubert made a lowly reverence, and then looked up sadly in the face of his lord. Very full was that face of care and sorrow;—but it was also very stern. Even since Hubert saw him last, the furrows on the broad forehead had deepened, the lines round the firm lips had hardened. If Jean Gerson had borne his part in offering up a burnt sacrifice, at least it had not been a sacrifice that cost him nothing.
Still, ere he spoke to Hubert, his eyes rested for an instant, with a softened expression, on the wounded arm. But the softness passed immediately, and he said, slowly and sternly, ‘Hubert Bohun, you stand accused of two faults;—I am fain to begin with the slighter. What has become of the packet which on Saturday was entrusted to your care?'
It was well for Hubert that Charlier, in his anger, had reminded him that he would be questioned on this subject; otherwise, so thoroughly had it passed from his mind, that he might have had to pause and think ere he answered, and the hesitation would have told against him. Now he said clearly and simply, ‘My lord, I brought it to Lebrun. He was not in his house; but I found him on the Rhine bridge, and gave it into his own hand.'
‘Where is the receipt? '
I said, being hurried, that I would return for it later. ‘In that, I own, I did wrong.'
‘Being hurried, forsooth,' broke in Charlier, ‘to go to the Burning.'
His master gave him a look that awed him into silence; and then said, turning again to Hubert, ‘Why did you not return for it? '
‘Because, my lord, I saw a boy fall into the river from the bridge. I tried to save him: we were long in the water, and I was hurt. I was taken to the house of one named Robert, a citizen whom I knew; and there I spent the night. At the hour of matins yesterday, I was returning home after hearing Mass in the cathedral, when they arrested me.'
The chancellor's countenance showed the surprise he felt at this unexpected reply; and Charlier indulged in an incredulous murmur, but did not dare to speak out. The chancellor resumed, more gently, ‘You were better employed than we thought for. Did you succeed in your work of charity? '
‘The child was saved,' said Hubert.
‘He will believe anything that boy tells him, to the very end,' thought the exasperated chaplain. ‘If Hubert Bohun said he had slain the seven champions of Christendom, the chancellor would only ask him which he began with.'
‘Are you seriously hurt?’ pursued the chancellor.
‘Oh no, my lord; it is nothing.'
‘Nothing, I can believe you think it, weighed in the balance with a life. My letter was important, but had you lost it in saving life I should never have reproached you. Even culpable carelessness I could easily forgive. But if indeed that placard, which appeared yesterday on the church doors, is from your hand, it is not against me that you have offended.'
‘My lord, I never even heard of it until the people called me to read it to them, as I was going into church yestermorn.'
The chancellor looked at him steadily, and in silence.
Charlier could contain himself no longer. ‘My lord, may I speak?' he said.
His master's tone was the reverse of encouraging as he said, coldly, ‘If you will, but be brief.'
‘For the past month and more, my lord, Bohun has done nothing but take the part of that heretic. I myself heard him say—and I crave your pardon for repeating such words —I heard him say that he did not believe Jesus Christ could be governing the Church, when such things as that man's condemnation were done in it.'
‘I did say it,' Hubert broke in. On the evening of June 8, after the meeting of the Council. But I was wrong —I know it now—and he was right who said that day, "Christ reigns now and always, and, albeit there is no pope, He does not cease to govern His Church!" '
The faith that breathed in those noble words lit up in the chancellor's sad face a momentary gleam of pleasure. But it passed instantly, for he remembered who had spoken them, and felt indignant with Hubert for daring to quote the heretic, and still more with Charlier for provoking him to it. ‘Have you anything more to say?’ he asked his chaplain, with an air of irritation.
‘One thing more, my lord. What Bohun did in Paris— the affair of the placard, I mean—may have escaped your memory.'
‘My memory is not so treacherous. It is because I remember so well that I know how to deal with this matter, and a few words will suffice for it. Hubert Bohun, look up. If thine eye shrinks from mine, 'twill be the first time since I knew thee. Thou didst tell the truth in Paris, thou wilt it tell now. Hast thou done this thing? '
‘No, my lord.'
‘Hast thou contrived or counseled, or had act or part in it, in any way?'
‘No, my lord.'
‘There was a brief pause. Then the chancellor said, I knew it, my son.'
Hubert breathed again. With the great throb of relief at his heart, eager words sprang to his lips.
‘My lord, I could not have done it! Once long ago, in my folly, I feigned idle words for the King of France, and men called it treason. But this—this were blasphemy! Moreover, I can prove my innocence. It were easy to send for Robert, who was with me all the time, and can make oath that I never left his house.'
‘It needs not. When I trust, I trust wholly. The matter is ended. It shall be named no more, by any one.'
This with a glance at Charlier. ‘Hubert, the Council sits tomorrow. You shall attend, and write for me.'
The tone in which he said that one word, ‘Hubert,' had a tenderness Hubert could hardly bear. But he steeled himself, with an effort, to the inevitable task before him. ‘My lord,' he said sadly, ‘I cannot write for you in the Council.'
The chancellor looked at him in surprise;—then a half smile played about his stern, sad lip.
‘Because you have been suspected?’ he asked. ‘You poor, proud, foolish boy! Have I not said that I trust you? '
‘It is just that;—it is the trust, the goodness beyond words, my lord hath ever shown me, which makes it so hard for me now. How can I speak? And yet how can I hold my peace? Nay, come what will of it, I must speak. I can write no more in the Council because of that thing which the Council did ere yesterday.'
Charlier uttered an exclamation of horror. The chancellor started, and his countenance changed perceptibly. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked sharply. ‘Do you presume to judge the Council?'
‘My lord, I judge no man. But this I know; he whom they slew ere yesterday died like St. Stephen, and is gone whither St. Stephen went. And with those who slew him God will reckon.'
‘Blasphemy!’ cried Charlier, taking a step forward; but no one heeded him.
Sorrow, anger, amazement, struggled in the look the chancellor bent upon Hubert. ‘How dare you speak thus?' he asked.
‘I dare anything now,' answered Hubert. ‘I have seen enough to take fear away from me forever. I have seen how no shame can touch, no horror can daunt, no agony can hurt the man who trusts God, and stands on His side against the world.'
‘If this be not sheer raving, it is rank heresy,' began Charlier again.
But the chancellor turned upon him suddenly, and in that voice of anger he so seldom used bade him, ‘Go, leave my presence! '
His anger was unreasonable, or rather, it was vented upon the wrong person. But Charlier dared not disobey; he went out trembling, and at the same time vowing vengeance against Hubert.
When they were alone together Gerson addressed Hubert, more apparently in sorrow than in anger. ‘You are in the snare of the devil. It is not the first time that he has taken upon him the form of an angel of light. But that he should have so deceived you as to make you plead the cause of a heretic, almost passes belief.'
‘My lord, I do not plead for him—God will plead. Safe with Him is His martyr's cause.'
‘Martyr?' All the emphasis of wrath was flung into the word. Still, the chancellor controlled himself, though with an evident effort.
‘I must have patience,' he said. ‘You are but a boy—a foolish, ignorant, conceited boy, and I own there was that in the man which might well— Child, you mistake the tinsel for the gold, the counterfeit for the true coin. Did not Judas bear himself devoutly before men? Did he not cast out devils and work miracles? Did he not say, "Master, Master?" '
‘Ay; but that he suffered patiently for the Master's sake —forgiving his enemies and praying for his persecutors—that have I never heard,' said Hubert.
‘You have heard, "Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity (that is, the grace of God), I am nothing." The man you speak of shut upon himself the door of grace. He died in disobedience to the voice of the Church, which is the voice of God. His doctrines would have spread rebellion and disorder; and they, and he, have been justly condemned. Enough of him; he stands now before his Judge. His name I care not to hear or utter; it will be, I suppose, forever accursed amongst men. Though it might have been far otherwise; God gave him noble gifts, if he had but used them for His glory. Hubert Bohun, think of thyself. Do not turn from the light, and mistake the way to heaven. Do not wander out of the true path and follow vain shadows, or perchance one day your feet will stumble on the dark mountains, and you will look for light, and behold darkness and the shadow of death. Hubert, Hubert,' his hard face softened, and his voice grew tender, do not cast thyself away.'
‘My lord, when you speak thus to me, I can scarce endure it; your wrath even were easier to bear than your kindness. But it avails not. I see only one step before me yet that step I must take. I must go from you.'
‘Go from me? I am not sending you away. No, not even for your wild, reckless words.'
Hubert shook his head sadly.
‘Yet I must go,' he said. ‘It were better for me to die than by the lifting of a hand, by the stroke of a pen, to have act or part or share any more in the doings of the Council.'
‘This is a fit of midsummer madness. One would think you were a cardinal, or a bishop at the least! Your part in the doings of the Council is but the part of this pen in my hand, as humble and as safe. And yet, Hubert, still I say, do not go from me. Time and good instruction will dissipate your delusions. I myself will instruct you in the Catholic faith with more care than heretofore. Perhaps, indeed, I have been remiss in this matter. God forgive my sins of omission! I thought you more fitted for the active than for the contemplative life. I must amend this negligence, of which the enemy has taken advantage to sow the tares of heresy.'
‘No, my lord, not so. I am clear of heresy. I believe all I have been taught, only with better understanding than I have ever done before. I maintain no doctrine; I only protest against a crime. If I were to hold my peace, the very stones would cry out. And I have no way of protesting save by refusing any more to serve those who did this thing, or those who approved of it.'
That last word, ‘approved,' carried a sting with it.
‘Go thine own way, then!’ said the chancellor, at last thoroughly indignant, and turning his face away from him. ‘We part here, and forever.'
‘Yes, we part,' Hubert answered mournfully. ‘Only once more, for this last time, let me thank you for the kindness of the past—let me pray your forgiveness.'
‘No, not one other word,' the chancellor interrupted sternly. There was a silence: Hubert stood still; the chancellor sat motionless, with his face turned away. At last he looked at Hubert again, and said in a voice that trembled audibly, ‘Hubert Bohun, you have bitterly disappointed me.'
‘Oh, my lord!’ cried Hubert, his own voice full of pain.
`You are only like all the rest. Ingratitude is the world's way. It is a bitter, evil world—would to God I were done with it! I thought—I was weak enough to think that you—you—' Then, with a sudden change of tone and manner, and half-unconsciously extending his hand, Hubert, I thought you loved me.'
Hubert was at his feet in a moment, pressing the hand to his lips. ‘God knows I love you, better than any living man.' Quick tears choked his voice, but he resumed presently—' Only say that we do not part in wrath! '
‘We part in sorrow, and we part forever,' said the chancellor, withdrawing his hand, though not ungently.
‘Go from me, Hubert Bohun; go, and God forgive thee! '
‘God bless my noble lord, the best friend I ever had! God give my lord the blessing of peace! '
Hubert turned sadly away, and the door closed upon him. Could he have witnessed the pain of the strong heart he left behind, it would almost have brought him back again. Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils,' said the chancellor. He had many lessons just then of the untruth, the unfaithfulness, the malice, the cruelty of men. Those he was contending for often pierced his soul with sharper arrows than those he was contending against. Whilst fighting bravely against many adversaries for what he thought to be right and truth, he had received a wound from another quarter, which, jealously concealed, unacknowledged even to himself, still bled inwardly. For many a future day that trouble would ' not pass, but grow.' John Huss had never said, what his more impetuous fellow-martyr said afterward to his judges: In dying, I will leave a sting in your hearts, and a gnawing worm in your consciences.' Yet the memory of that patient, heroic death can never have left any man who had a share in it; and the noblest least of all. Henceforward not even earthly prosperity and success were given to the chancellor. From this time forth All things grew sadder to (him) one by one.' He could say truly, as he often did say, I am a stranger upon earth;' yet the end of the pathetic prayer, Hide not Thy commandments from me,' did not seem to find an answer then. It rather seemed as if, while the earth was iron, the heavens above him were brass. We know this by a sure sign and token. Now, and for some time afterward, there was in his speech and writings, in his actions even, a great bitterness and hardness. In one memorable instance this hardness reached a point which we must need call cruelty, nor was he free from the reproach of ‘a virtual breach of faith.' These are not the fruits which bear witness to a heart in communion with God, or a soul at peace with Him.