communion frequently, and his language with regard to the worship of images became even stronger than before. He writes[1] that “the simple-minded are seduced in a damnable manner, for they confer, as it were, a divine power on a wooden or stony image, and regard it with amazement, reverence, and affection, forgetting that it is but a senseless and lifeless block of wood, neither blessed nor consecrated by the word of God. Verily, any gallows is more acceptable and more useful in a city than some much-honoured picture or statue in a church, for by means of the gallows God’s justice is accomplished and indicated, and the wickedness of the people is diminished. . . .
If we recall the superstitious terror and abhorrence which the “gallows-tree” inspired in mediæval days, we will see the force and the temerity of Janov’s comparison.
As was inevitable, the authorities of the church again began to take proceedings against him. In 1392, Matthew was ordered to deliver up to the vicar of the archbishop for inspection two works which he was known to have written. We have, however, no account of the result of this examination. It was a more serious matter when, in the autumn of the same year, Janov was again summoned to appear at the archiepiscopal law court. It appears probable that Archbishop Jenzenstein had, in consequence of the contents of the books mentioned above, again forbidden him to officiate as a priest at Prague, and particularly to administer the sacrament daily to laymen. On the formal promise of Matthew that he would henceforth obey all orders of his ecclesiastical superiors, he was now reinstated in all his dignities as a priest and preacher at Prague.
Probably, previous to his second appearance at the archiepiscopal court, Matthew’s mind had undergone a profound change, of which he has given us an account that has great
- ↑ This eloquent passage (in Regulae, Book V.) is too long for quotation in its entirety.
