In This Picture, The
Idea That Most Impressed Me Was, The Representation Of That More
Refined And Subtle Torture Of Martyrdom Which Consists In The
Incertitude And Weakness Of An Individual Against Whom Is Arrayed The
Whole Weight Of The Religious Community.
If against the martyr only
the worldly and dissolute stood arrayed, he could bear it; but when
the church,
Claiming to be the visible representative of Christ, casts
him out; when multitudes of pious and holy souls, as yet unenlightened
in their piety, look on him with horror as an infidel and blasphemer,
- then comes the very wrench of the rack. As long as the body is
strong, and the mind clear, a consciousless of right may sustain even
this; but there come weakened hours, when, worn by prison and rack,
the soul asks itself, "Can it be that all the religion and
respectability of the world is wrong, and I alone right?" Such an
agony Luther expressed in that almost superhuman meditation written
the night before the Diet at Worms. Such an agony, the historian tells
us, John Huss passed through the night before his execution.
Now for the picture. The painter has arrayed, with consummate ability,
in the foreground a representation of the religious respectability of
the age: Italian cardinals, in their scarlet robes, their keen,
intellectual, thoughtful faces, shadowed by their broad hats; men whom
it were no play to meet in an argument; there are gray-headed,
venerable priests, and bishops with their seal rings of office, - all
that expressed the stateliness and grandeur of what Huss had been
educated to consider the true church. In the midst of them stands
Huss, habited in a simple dark robe; his sharpened features, and the
yellow, corpse-like pallor of his face, tell of prison and of
suffering. He is defending himself; and there is a trembling
earnestness in the manner with which his hand grasps the Bible. With a
passionate agony he seems to say, "Am I not right? does not this word
say it? and is it not the word of God?"
So have I read the moral of this noble picture, and in it I felt that
I had seen an example of that true mission of art which will manifest
itself more and more in this world as Christ's kingdom comes; art
which is not a mere juggler of colors, a gymnastic display of effects,
but a solemn, inspiring poetry, teaching us to live and die for that
which it noblest and truest. I think this picture much superior to its
companion, the Martyrdom of Huss, which I had already seen in America.
JOURNAL - (CONTINUED.)
Wednesday, August 3. Frankfort to Cologne. Hurrah for the Rhine! At
eleven we left the princely palace, calling itself Hotel de Russie,
whose halls are walled with marble, and adorned with antique statues
of immense value. Lo, as we were just getting into our carriage, the
lost parcel! basket, shawl, cloak, and all! We tore along to the
station; rode pleasantly over to Mayenz; made our way on board a
steamer loaded down with passengers; established ourselves finally in
the centre of all things on five stools, and deposited our loose
change of baggage in the cabin.
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