Count Arensberg; or, The days of Martin Luther

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600069907

f-

THE DATS OF LUTHEE.

VOL. I.

COUNT ARENSBERG;

OS,

THE DAYS OF MARTIN LUTHER.

By JOSEPH SORTAIN, A.B.,

OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN.

** Oh, how comely it is, and how reviving

To the spirits of just men, long oppress'd,

When God into the hands of their deliverer

Puts invincible might,
» » » • »

With plain heroic magnitude of mind ! "

Milton.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

BRIGHTON :
R. FOLTHORP, NORTH STREET.

LONGMAN AND CO., LONDON.

1853.

J^£^. /, «^^^,

London:

Printed by Stkwast and Musrat,

OldBailqr.

mmmm

PEEFACE.

In the followmg pages^ it is attempted to portray
some few of the salient facts which occurred during
the early days of the Reformation. In regard to
those facts themselves the most scrupulous historical
fidelity has been observed ; so that although the
form of the work is fictitious^ it is hoped that the
reader will accept with confidence the substance of
the narrative.

We — and our readers will pardon the use of the
word ** we," for it is employed with truth, inasmuch as
the Author has been materially assisted by his wife —
we have not hesitated to record either the attractive
qualities of Pope Leo X., or those features in the

VI PBEFACE.

character of Martin Luther which, his fervent admirers
though we are, we have had regret in recognizing.

Ranke, in his impartial and most learned " History

of the Papacy," says, —

^^ Amid exuberance of effort and execution, of mind and
art, and in the enjoyment of the secular development of the
highest spiritual dignity, lived Leo X. People would dispute
about his having the honour of giving his name to this age ;
and his merits may not have been so great. But he was
now Leo the fortunate. He had been nourished in the ele-
ments that go to form this present world ; he possessed suffi-
cient liberality and susceptibility of mind to promote and
enjoy its beauty and its bloom. After finding so much en->
joyment in the Latin works of direct imitators, he could not
fail to be interested in the original compositions of his con-
temporaries. In his presence were exhibited the first trage-
dies in the Italian tongue, and the first comedies too, not-
withstanding the scandal occasioned by the doubtM morality
they derived from Plautus. There is hardly one which he had
not first seen. Ariosto was one of the acquaintances of his
youth ; Machiavel had once and again written expressly for
him ; for him Baffaello filled rooms, galleries, and chapels,
with the ideal forms of human beauty, and the pure expres-
sion of existence. ♦ * • The palace daily resounded
with music, and the Pope himself hummed in concert with

PBEFACE. VU

its melodies. It may be thought that this was a kind of
mere mental luxury ; be it so, it is the only luxury that is
worthy of a man. Moreover, Leo X. was Aill of kind per-
sonal sympathy with others. Never would he refuse a
favour, even although it were impossible to grant it, but in
the mildest expressions. ' He is a good man,' says one of
those observant persons, ambassadors; Wery open-handed
and kind-hearted, and, but that he is led into them by his
relations, he would avoid all irregularities.' ' He is a learned
man,' says another, *' and the friend of learned men ; imques-
tionably religious, yet he likes to enjoy life.' True, he did
not always maintain the decorum expected of a Pope. At
times he would set o£F from Rome, to the mortification of the
master of ceremonies, not only without a surplice, but, as the
latter notes in his journal, ' which is worst of all, in boots.'
He passed the autumn in rural recreations ; in hawking at
Viterbo, and stag-hunting at Comuto, while the Lake of
Bolsena afforded him the amusement of fishing ; lastly, he
always spent a part of the year at Malliano, his favourite
residence. Thither, too, he was accompanied by men of
prompt and nimble wits, such as improvisatores, who could
enliven the passing hour."*

Critically speaking, the above delineation of the
character of Leo X. is open to some few exceptional
* Rankers History of the Papacy, vol. i. pp. 61-2.

• ••

Vm , PBEFACE.

remarks, his faith in the dogmas of his Church having
been more than questioned ; but, in the main, it con-
veys a candid estimate. And we have endeavoured, in
the following work, to maintain its dispassionateness.

In regard to the truly illustrious Martin Luther —
the man who we believe was endowed by God with

" Invincible Might,
With plain heroic magnitude of mind" —

we have not concealed his ebullitions of passion and
of language. Respecting which, however, we would
fain quote words that may be found in an article of
the ''Christian Remembrancer";* an article which
for power of mental and moral analysis, or for elo-
quent description, has been but rarely surpassed.
The writer, we must think, was prepossessed against
the great Reformer ; nevertheless, on the subject of the
latter's violence in emotion and in diction, he re-
marks, —

'^Faults of temper are the natural faults accompanying
strong powers of action. Luther could not have done what

* " Christian Bemembrancer,** Jan. 1848. Art iv. Martin
Luther, p. 140.

PREFACE. IZ

he did, if he had not been constitationallj endowed with
powers of action in the most wonderful degree ; and to possess
these powers was to possess a never-failing stimulus to tem-
per. Action of all kinds is connected with^ and depends more
or less on, the elements of passion in the human mind. That
necessary state of desire in the mind which all action sup-
poses, in order to account for itself and explain its own origin^
is of the nature of passion : and, therefore, in literal truth no
human being can act at all without some passion to make
him ; and passion is the electric or magnetic power which sets
everything within him in motion, and makes him the acting
creature he is. • ^ • • •

'^ Luther had enormous activities, and had that strong
passion which goes along with them. . • • • The war
in which he was engaged was controversial — a war in which
words and not swords carried the day. The strength of his
nature, consequently, was developed in the shape of words.
His fertility and ready wit gave him peculiar command over
this field. Nature gives horns to bulls, and hoofe to horses ;
to Luther she gave a tongue. The word always came im-
mediately as it was wanted, and impetus suffering no check
went on tiU strength had become coarseness. • • • .

'^ Luther, in addition to a temperament, had also a motive ;
he was the leader of a cause. The storm of nature drove on
with the directness of intention, and knocked down every
obstacle in the one line of its own motion.

X FBEFACE.

^^ Bitter as wonnwood to his foes, Luther was all heart
and love to fiiends; and to those who went along with him.
.... The jovial and hearty equality on which he put
himself with others, endeared him to companions, as his com-
passion and charity did to his class of poor friends. Wholly
without the airs of a great man, free as air, easy and welcome
as home, he radiated social heartiness and comfort ; and men
were happy around him, as they are happy round a fire.
The music of his tongue, the brilliancy and fertility of his
humour, and all his social gifts and talents, delightful in
themselves, were more delightful because they were hisj
and the dispenser of rich treats, was himself the great treat
of all.''

With the recognition of these lineaments of Pope
Leo X. and Doctor Martin Luther, the desire has been
to convey a truthful picture of sundry characteristics
of each; above all, to present honest illustrations of
the conditions and feelings that marked the nascent
Reformation.

Only in one particular are we aware of being open
to a* charge of discrepancy with some historians. It is
that one in which Luther is introduced as a Member
of Council with the Elector of Saxony. It may have
been (but we more than doubt it) that Martin Luther

PREFACE. XI

never had any personal communication with Frederick
the Sage, of Saxony ; however, their correspondence,

one of the most cordial and intimate description, is

before the world.

Brighton^ March 1, 1853.

COUNT ARENSBERG;

OB.

THE DAYS 0¥ MAETIN LUTHER.

CHAPTER I.

" I GKIEVE to find your Holiness in such suffering
this morning," said Cardinal S. Georgio, addressing
Pope Leo X., who lay recUning upon a couch, with
features that were shrunk and haggard, as if from acute
pain.

But there was also an expression of distress upon
the countenance of the Pontiff, which the experienced
and observant Cardinal felt sure must have had a
mental origin, and his own face grew pale the instant
he remarked it.

" We are indeed in suffering ; more, much more
than is our wont," replied the Pope, "but let your
Eminence be seated. Your, eloquent tongue, your

VOL. I. ^. B

2 COUNT ABBNSBBBO; OB5

refined judgment, shall furnish anodynes. At the
thirteenth hour we have summoned our divine Baf-
fiiello, and — good fortime is it! we shall have your
Eminence's counseL"

" Transcendent mind I " exclaimed the Cardinal,
'^ that can thus soothe the pangs of the frail body by
the reposeful spirit and the cahn beauties of undying
art!"

** Ah I S. Georgio, thou flatterer I " returned the
PontifE *^ Thou and I have bartered the comforts of
Holy Church and Corpo di Bacco! at a poor ex-
change, if the stoicism of philosophy, or the smiles
of taste, sicken at a pain. Tell me, my lord Cardinal,
is our martyrology a mere legend ? or, if it be a truth,
what could have given our confessors such equanimity
and such triumph, even when some of them were at the
stake ? ''

'^ Animal courage, or pride, or ambition, most as-
suredly, may it please your Holiness,'' rejoined S.
Georgio> ^supposing that martyrolc^ to be true.
Have we not heard of cases parallel among the Incas
of Peruvia? and, verily, no Christian dogmas sup-
ported them I But your Holiness is proof in ques-
tion, how a follower of Plato can endure. As to
Christianity, who will deny that, in so far as it
goes, it is good and harmless? Myths I myths! your
Holiness."

" Myths? Myths, lord Cardinal?'* demanded Leo,
in sorroMrful earnestness. ''And yet all myths, even
the veriest legends, have some truth as tiieir substra-

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. O

tuin. And wliat> & Geor^o, what if, in especial^
these myths should have truth in them I Would to
Grod I could either implicitly believe^ or utterly re-
nounce and scorn, those words which I heard the
fanatic Savanorola utter oyer the dying pillow of my
fatherl'^

Such was the conversation on the morning of 15th
of May, A.D. 1517, between Leo X« and Cardinal S.
GecNTgio.

The Pontiff had long been called to endure acute
and very dangerous physical pain. We regret to have
to add that, apart from any outward provocations of
sorrow, his mind was open to those irritations that
spring from unsettledness of faith. His taste for the
lately revived literature c^ ancient Paganism brought
with it a sympathy for its varying creeds ; yet, con-
stitutionally unfit for arriving at any dialectic cer-
tainty, his mind oscillated again and again between
unbelief on the one hand, and a disingenuous credulity
on the other.

Not so, however, was the case with the Cardinal S.
Georgia He, together with many other princes of
the Churchy smiled down all the doctrines of Chris-
tianity. To him, and to many of his brethren, the
Odes of Anacreon were better suited than were the
Psalms of David; and the Poeans of Pindar than the
triumphant sonsrs in the Apocalypse.

The coaverBatioa wMch'we We been narrating wa3
suddenly stopped short by the ^itrance of an usher,
who was followed by one, at the first glance of whom

4 COUNT ABENSBEK6; OB,

the sombre earnestness of the Pontiff lost all its dark-*
ness^ and his voice even changed its tone.

*' Thou art welcome, thrice welcome, my son ! " ex^
claimed Leo cheerily, as an exquisitely handsome man
advanced and knelt before him.

The delight of the Pontiff may be accounted for,
if by no other reasons, by the beauty, the grace
of form, and the perfect attire of him whom he
looked upon. Large, calm eyes, whose dark pupik
floated in the deepest azure; a face which revealed
energy, yet gentleness — ^fire, yet amiability — variety,
yet oneness — all prompt for harmonious action; the
accidents of which were slightly arched eyebrows — and
lips coral in colour and half-opened as if ready for
either a smile or a repartee; the predominant expres*
sion being that of transparent candour without weak-
ness—all these, we say, were, in themselves, enough to
attract off from his own sorrows the attention of the
Holy Father.

" Thou art welcome, thrice welcome, my son!*' the
Pope reiterated, as the young man rose from his knees.
" Suffering though I am, thou wilt cheer me ; wilt thou
but say ^ finis coronat opus I ^ Have you finished your
promised frescoes ? "

" They are finished, may it please your Holiness —
and all thanks to the Holy Virgin !" returned Bafiaello;
for it was the great painter who was now modestly
standing before the Pontiff.

*' Laus Deo I Laus Deo I" burst from the lips of
Leo, and rising eagerly, forgetful of his pains of body.

THE DATS OF LtJTHElL O

•* Come^ your Eminence," he added quickly to tlie Car-
dinal, '^ and you shall be the first to witness, with us,
what will be the glory of our Pontificate."

The attendants were quickly summoned to assist
their master, and he was moving towards the new
apartments of the Vatican, when the usher again
appeared and announced the Cardinals Petrucci and
Bandinello de' Sauli. A flush instantly surmounted
the cheeks of Leo and as instantly vanished, making
the paleness of his coimtenance the more obvious. But
he retained his self-possession; so much so, that he
turned a deliberate look upon the face of S. Georgio,
and scanned its changes of colour, and the big drops
that burst out upon his forehead. His own features
betrayed, though but slightly, that he had arrived at
some painful yet decisive conclusion.

The two Cardinals approached and fulfilled their
homage ; and, for a few seconds, there was an unusual
restraint upon all parties.

Grief, scorn, rage, all seemed in conflict within the
bosom of the Pontiff*, and he could do no more than fix
his eyes upon his visitors. It was with a look, how-
ever, that made them tremble.

At length, and with a desperate eflfort, Petrucci
broke the silence.

*' We have obeyed your summons. Holy Father, and,
in reliance on your safe conduct, pledged on our be-
half to the Spanish crown, we are here to answer accu-
satiom fouler than were ever alleged against Princes
of the Church."

6 COUNT arensberg; or,

*'AhI say ye so?" murmured Leo. "Then why
did you fly from Borne, Petrucci, if your conscience
was your advocate ? And why now lay such stress upon
our promise of safe conduct ? Hath your long know-
ledge of ourselves made you doubt our justice or our
leniency?"

" Your Holiness," repKed Petrucci with ill-sup-
pressed irony, — "your Holiness hath indeed shewn
justice and leniency: first, by expelling my brother
from Siena, and plundering myself of my patrimony ;
and then by giving heed to the false scandals of my

enemies."

" Then thou comest, infamous traitor," fiercely ex-
claimed the Pontiff, " to accuse the Holy See, and not
to purge thyself from accusation."

During this recrimination, S. Georgio was in tor-
ture; and his tumultuous emotions of anxiety and
alarm were concealed only at the expense of ex-
cruciating efforts at self-command. At last these
failed him, and at the moment when prudence would
have counselled him to remain neutral, he inter-
posed: —

" Pardon, may it please your Holiness, — pardon
this unseemly daring in his Eminence. Family and
personal sorrows must have usurped his better judg-
ment."

" Ay, and perjured his fealty to our person . and
our Holy Chair," the Pontiff retorted. « And,"
added he, as, with a withering look, he turned
upon the mediator, " take heed, S. Georgio, how fwr

THE BATS OF LUTHEB. 7

your own Eminence becomes identified with your
client."

** Yea indeed," murmured Petrucci : " friends axe to
be identified in sorrows, not in triumphs ! Witness my
own father Pandolfo and the Medici."

This allusion to the ingratitude of the Pope, towards
one who had been his own and his family's best
friend during their adversity, was too close a topic
for the Pontiff, and he instantly evaded it.

^^A truce," said he, "to such irreverent banter-
ings I Art thou dumb, my Lord de' Sauli ? — and
wherefore?"

** I am here at the command — alas 1 no longer,
as of yore, at the invitation — of your Holiness. He
who, while he was honoured by the Holy Father's
confidence, could volunteer to speak, must now stand
only to be questioned, whilst he is beneath sus^
picion."

" Would to God 1 de' Sauli, that you had been
faithful to our old and loved companionship I " sighed
the Pope. " But" — and his tone became more bitter —
*^ have you not forgotten all — ^yes, all — our vows of
friendship, our common joys, our sameness of pursuits
and tastes, our "

The gentler emotions of Leo were gradually rising,
as he was proceeding thus to recall old, familiar, and
well-loved hours with his former friend. But, with a
desperate self-struggle, he retained his purpose; and,
on an ahnost imperceptible movement to his chamber-
lain, the folding-doors were thrown open, a company

8 CIOUNT ABENSBEBO; OB,

of his guards entered and enclosed the two Cardinals ;
and the Pontiff, In a voice half stem, half choked with
sorrow, said merely, while he turned his back upon the
astonished group, —
« To St. Angelo ! "

k*«."»S

THE DATS OF LUTHER« 9

CHAPTER II.

Ik order to understand the events recorded in the
previous chapter^ it triH be necessary for us to glance
at a few of the historical circumstances of the period
with which our tale comiiQeuces.

Pope Leo X*, son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, had
for five years filled the chair of St. Peter; during
which, although occupied by incessant intrigues with
both the small powers of Italy and the greater states of
Transalpine Europe, he had shewn the most princely
care for the arts and sciences at Rome. It cannot be
said that either he was the first or the most munificent
of the Pontiffs in the patronage of genius ; for, to omit
others, among whom Sixtus IV. deserves especial men-
tion, the warrior. Pope Julius IL, was pre-eminent in
the countenance which he gave to the highest interests
of literature and taste. Under his fostering care it
was, that Bramante and Michael Angelo enjoyed that
warmth of nurture which, if not necessary for matur-
ing their talents, was essential for their practical
activity. It is well known that, without the large
sympathies and unbounded expenditure of this Pontiff,

10 COUNT ABEKSBER6; OB,

neither could the first of these great architects have
gained a notice of his sublime plans, or laid the
foundations of the new Church of St. Peter's, nor
could the second have advanced so gloriously towards
its completion. And when to this is added that,
during the same reign, Michael Angelo's highest as-
pirations as a painter were not merely sanctioned, but
stimulated; that at the same time Baffaello's noble
rivalry was, with a most generous hand, encouraged,
so that by far the greater portion of his works in the
Vatican were finished before that reign closed, — it
will be allowed that Leo X., instead of commencing,
only continued the lofty function of patronizing the
development of the beautiful and the sublime.

But he did it nobly. It is true that, throughout his
Pontificate, his preference of Baffaello was unnecessarily
exclusive. And yet, who shall grieve thereat? For
so gentle, so dependent upon warm complacency, was
this prince of painters, that, but for such concentrated
approbation, his untiring labours might have been in-
termitted.

On the occasion to which we have referred in the
former chapter, Baffaello had approached the Pontiff to
announce the completion of his last four pictures in the
Vatican.

The Pope, as we have shewn above, was interrupted
in his design of immediately inspecting this new triumph
of Raffiiello's labours ; and we must defer further notice
of them till hereafter.

The cause of that interruption presents one of the

THE DATS OF LUTHEIL 11

most painM facts in the history of the Roman Church.
Notwithstanding the attractive character of Leo ; not-
withstanding the gracious and conciliating terms on
which he lived with all his Cardinals ; notwithstanding
his general habit of indulging all around him^ as well
as of indulging himself; there were many exceptional
outbursts of caprice^ and false dealing, and tyranny,
in his conduct both towards the highest and lowest
functionaries in his government. One of these was
his summary displacement of the brother of Cardinal
Petrucci from his high office at Siena, and his confisca-
tion of the hereditary revenues of the Cardinal himself.
The fierce discontent which raged within the bosom of
Petrucci found fuel in the hearts of several of his
brother Cardinals ; and his frequent ebullitions of fary,
instead of being smothered, were fed by their hitherto
suppressed disafiection.

What could have caused this disafiection towards the
Pope, is open to conjecture. It may be — ^it probably
was — that his extreme youth for a Pope so apparently
closed all avenues for their own elevation to the
Pontificate, that their feelings towards him became
alienated.

But not to anticipate. It would seem that Petrucci
resolved on satiating his revenge by murdering the
PontiflP, and during the absence of the personal physi-
cian of the latter, endeavoured to introduce Battista da
Vercelli, a creature of his own, with the design of
mingling poisons with his medicines. A personal deli-
cacy, which made the Pope refuse a new practitioner to

12 COUNT abensbebg; or,

hiB contidence, saved him ; and the Cardinal, irritated
beyond bounds at the disappointment of his malice,
yented his passions in language the most treasonable
and indiscreet. Alarmed at its threatening conse-
quences, he fled from Rome; but, on Leo guaran-
teeing to the Spanish ambassador his safe conduct,
Fetrucci, unaware that the treacherous correspondence
of his secretary had been intercepted, returned, in
obedience to the summons of the Pope. It was then,
as we have already narrated, that Leo— with bad faith,
it must be owned — committed him and his brother Car-
dinal to the castle of St. Angelo.

It was on the evening of the day following, that a
company of some four or five Cardinals were assembled
in a retired chamber of the palace of Soderini, and
the cadaverous countenances of the little assembly,
the trembling fingers with which they handled various
papers that lay upon the table, the almost whispers with
which they addressed each other, and the occasional
starts of one or more of them as a larger rain-drop
than usual fell upon a window-sill without — all these,
as symptoms of fear and secresy, betrayed some dark
and perilous proceeding.

Some time had passed — during which, if there had
been a mere spectator, the whole would have appeared
a curious pantomime of alarm — when Soderini, the
master of the house, said, in a louder tone and with
assmned gaiety, —

" Why, brother Adrian, thy very lips are blanched
as white as thy teeth within them. Tush, man I dost

THE BATS OF LUTHEB. 13

thou forget that we are princes of the Churchy and
that, for the saJsie of decency alone^ the Holy Father
must connive at us, even if — which is not likely-r-he
should detect our folly?"

" Detect ? " asked Cardinal Adrian faintly. " Detect ?
And know you not, monsignor, that Battista ; that your
own secretary — Antonio Nino; that your own mili-
tary retainer — Pocointesta, have all been subjected to
the question, and by no less shrewd an examiner than
the procurator-fiscal, Mario Perusco ?"

'* Peste !" exclaimed the host. ^* And what of that ?
The rack may, indeed, wring Petrucci and De' Sauli ;
but what words have we ever uttered in their hear-
ing — and more, what words of ours have they ever
read?" .

** Curses on that mad fool, Petrucci 1" murmured a
third Cardinal, " that he ever wrote those letters."

There was a general start ; for, though it came from
a distance in a long corridor, their quickened hearing
could catch the sound of approaching steps, and their
instinct told them that those steps were hurried.

All rose, and turned breathless to the door. It was
soon opened, and Soderini's secretary stood, aghast and
speechless, before them.

" Speak I speak, knave I" shouted his master, losing
all patience at the affirighted man's ineffectual attempts
to command his tongue. " Speak, sirrah I or, by Pluto !
thou shalt suffer I"

The poor secretary could only mutter, " S. Geor^o I
S. Georgiol"

14 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

"What? what of S. Georgio?*' they all together—
and with a half-shriek — exckimed.

*^ His Eminence I his Eminence !" and he could falter
out no more.

** Give the scared wretch some nunnents to compose
himself^" said Cardinal Adrian.

But the gibe was more effectual with the secretary
than had been the threat, and, with a desperate plunge^
he said : " His Eminence is in St. Angelo P

*^ Thou are scared, indeed ! " cried Soderini, with a wild
laugh. "Baffaello Biario in St. Angelo I Begone^
sirrah, with thy fool's errand, and to-morrow thou shalt
know something more."

**My lord, my lord!* returned the secretary, and
in a tone so beseeching that it commanded credence,
*^ spurn neither me hor my words, I pray yoiL His
Eminence t> in St Angelo. Paris de Grassis has just
t<dd me that his Holiness was not content with the mild
arrest under which he had placed him."

But a few seconds, and the room was empty. Each
of the other Cardinals had fled to his palace, to devise
plans of self-defence, leaving Soderini to arrange mat-*
ters within his own.

m

THE PATS OF LUTHEB. 15

CHAPTER III.

I

MoBE than a fortniglit elapsed before any public
movements aroused the reverend conspirators^ who
were still at large^ from the inert anguish into which
the foreboding terrors of their imagination and con-
science threw them. From the 22nd of May imtil the
8th of June, notwithstanding all their efforts to pre-
serve composure before others, and despite their eager
attCTapts to banish care amid the duties of their ghostly
office, and the recreations of literary pleasure and
voluptuous dissipation, it was obvious to many that a
*^ worm i' the bud" was active and insatiable in its
voracity. Not one of them dared to trust himself at
night to the guardianship of any but their most deeply
8wom attendants, lest, at some fitful moment, a dream
or a half-deepy paroxysm might commit them. The
multitttde were often surprised and euperstitiously ter-
rified at their frequent absence of mind, even when
occasionally assisting at Holy Mass. And their com-
panions looked wonderingly at each other, when
echdars, who had once been so felicitous in their
quotations and remarks, either uttered words most

16 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

inapposite^ or had to confess failures in their memory.
The once full and rose-coloured cheeks became lank
and jaundiced. Dispositions that had been cheerful
and considerate of even their domestics, betrayed gloom
and a spirit of exaction*

Thus unmanned, suspicious, irritable, they had to
obey the summons of the Holy Father to a solemn
conclave.

It was a dread sight, that of the conclave. For an
unusual period, the whole of the sacred college, then at
Brome, were kept in waiting for the approach of the
Holy Pontiff. This arose, not from any capricious or
insulting delay on the part of Leo, but from his
repeated ineffectual efforts to smnmon composure for
the meeting. Unprindpled though he had often shewn
himself, and faithless to his word, and designing in his
treachery, and careless of the interests and feelings of
others when in the field of strife political, his heart
was gentle, and affectionate, and confiding towards his
subjects — especially his Cardinals. He had passed a
fortnight as cruel as had any one of the conspirators.
Not to speak of his wearing anxiety from the startling
fact that assassins were aroimd him, the bare thought
that he had been nestling serpents in his bosom, gave
him constant shocks — worse than galvanic ones — as his
imagination dwelt upon their slimy coldness, the recent
nearness of their fangs to his heart's blood, and the
chance that, though they had been torn away, they
might have left some deadly virus behind them. Pope
Jjeo was no coward ; he had long and often shewn his

THE DAYS or LUTHER. 17

prowess in the battle-field, before he obtained his
throne. Neither had he become effeminate, although
his life had lapsed into luxury and indulgence ; for still
the most robust exercises were his favourite pastime.
But his soul was sensitive — sensitive to friendship, and,
with but few exceptions, loyal to its claims. And now
lie had to charge betrayal upon those who had been the
objects of his profuse munificence, and the welcomed
sharers in his joys. He sought, and again he sought
for an aspect of severity and resolution ere he con-
fronted his false friends ; but for a while he failed in
the attempt.

Suddenly, however, and, as if to fly from further
self-deliberation, he commanded the doors that led to
the consistory to be thrown open, and he entered.

Do we need a portrait of this distinguished Pontiff?
We have one, and more than one, from the pencil of
KaffaeUo, And thence we draw that which can be no
fiction.

He was scarcely forty-two years of age, and, as yet,
neither his physical sufferings nor his sorrows had — as
they soon did — unnerved his bodily energies or robbed
them of the full freshness of a lusty manhood. But
for the earnest intelligence of his eye, his face so
symmetrical, so wanting in any exaggerated salient
points, might have passed as simply indicative of
elegant benevolent good-humour. But that eye! It
betrayed no cunning — in that it was untrue to an
inner prototype. It revealed shrewdness — tempered by
good feeling and decision, though somewhat relieved

VOL. T. C

18 COUNT arensberg; or,

by mildness, — in that it was faithful. And his colour
was the olive of his country, yet Bunoounted with a
tinge.

At the moment of our tale, however, there had fled
all colour ; and the eyes were suffused, so that it was
but at intervals that a stem look could be detected —
a sternness which, even then, would have been doubtful,
save for the compression of his lips. He entered the
consistory, wearing his triple crown, and clothed in a
stole which but partially covered the splendour of the
stuffs and the gold and silk and ornamented borders of
his under robes. But no eyes from among the cardinals
dwelt upon the gorgeousness of his apparel: his face
caught the gaze of all, and all trembled. With slow
and firm dignity, without his customary greetings,
he moved towards his chair, on which shone the glitter-
ing golden ball — his own heraldic emblem — whilst on
a small table before him lay the Sacred Book in
vellum, and the silver bell. At liis side there sat
the Cardinals Giulio de Medici and De Kossi. The
convocation was aU dumb and motionless : —

" MoNSiGNORi, — On commencing the business of
this consistory, which, in the plenitude of our Holy
Power, we have summoned, we must first utter our
loud lament that cruel and insidious men should ever
have found enough blasphemous daring, even from the
arch-enemy himself, to assail our Sacred Person.

*^ Our life has been assailed — assailed. Great God I
that it should have been so — by no common frantic
bandit, by no forsworn layman, by no guilty agent of

THE DAYS OF LUTHEK. 19

any false foreign power; but by one, nay, by more
than one, among yourselves^ reverend brethren — by
some among yourselves, the Princes of Holy Church,
the spiritual guardians of that Church's Divine Head
on earth I

^^ Ever did you hear of the Pretorian guards of a
Koman emperor either unsheathing their swords, or
employing their poisons against the life of the monarch,
the basement of whose throne had been their shields ?
Yes, indeed, you may have heard of such, in your studies
of ancient story. Your eminences can recall the like
thereof, when Nerva and when Pertinax found treason
within their very homes.* But recollect, if you can,
we pray you, when hath the Vicar of Christ been
foully imperilled, and by a member, or by members
of his own Apostolic College ? When ?

" Our divine Prototype was indeed betrayed, and
by a member of His holy family. Into that blessed
household an Iscariot did intrude. And now it seemeth
that the disciple must be as his master, and the servant
as his lord ! Jesus Christ, reverend brethren, is again
betrayed in the house of his friends : the heel of his
guest hath been again lifted up against Him.

** And wherefore ? let us ask your Eminences. Have
we not raised most of you to the highest dignities in
the apostolic see ? Who of you can impugn the kind-
ness, the liberality, the love of your Holy Father?
Have we not so met and cherished your affections, so
sympathized with your confidence, so carefully be-

♦Notel.

20 COUNT ABENSBERG; OB^

thought ourselves of your revenues, your bishoprics^
your feudalities, that a low and scandalizing world has
charged us with a, weakness that is insulting? And, in
the lower forms of common life, wherever have we been
inaccessible or unbrotherly ? Have we ever lived apart
from you ? Tell us, if you can, what joy of science and
art, or what delights of social freedom we have ever
shared alone ?

*^ Ye have among your Eminences," cried the grow-
ingly impassioned voice of the Pontiff, — " ye have
among your Eminences men who have aimed at the life
of God's Vicar upon Earth — ^men, some of whom we have
raised from obscurity to splendour, from poverty to
wealth ; some whose high conditions we have consoli-
dated ; and some of ye have betrayed us ! Two of
such are now before us. Let them choose the alter-
native of confession or instant imprisonment."

The afflicted Pontiff covered his face with his sacred
robes and wept.

While Leo was expatiating upon his past kindnesses
to the whole of the sacred college, and uttering his in-
dignant reproaches of black ingratitude against those of
their number who had conspired against his life, the
consistory listened with comparative composure; for
they never dreamt that he referred to any, save Pe-
trucci, De Sauli, and S. Georgio, whom they knew to
have been arrested. But when he denounced two
others, though not by name, yet affirming that they sat
before him — when he threatened them with immediate
seizure, unless they made a prompt confession — the entire

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 21

assembly rose in consternation. The Pontiff, however,
still maintained his seat, and, in greater calmness, said
that he had finished his address. He employed himself
in narrowly scanning every look, every motion of the
disturbed cardinals. Chiefly did he follow with his eyes
two of them, whose guilt, though unknown to their
brethren, was well known to himself. And there was
also a little knot that had retired somewhat from the
rest, whose grave, sorrowful, yet open countenances,
touched his heart with an assurance of their sympathy
and innocence. It was soon evident that they had come
to a decision, for they returned to their seats, and,
all three then standing, one of them, the Cardinal
Kemolini, addressed the Pontiff in their name a^d in
his own: —

" We pray the Holy Father instantly to adopt some
step, in his sacred wisdom, that shall purge his faithful
councillors from so foul a stain. Our hearts were well
nigh broken as we learned the charges against our
unhappy brethren, who are now imprisoned. May our
Holy Mother grant that, on their trial, they may prove
their innocence ! But, Holy Father, for our sakes, for
the sake of the Church of the living God, for the sake
of the confidence which your Holiness hath ever shewn
ourselves 1 — their Eminences Accolte and Famese
unite with me in begging that we may each, here
present, be called, on oath, to answer a distinct in-
terrogatory whether he be guilty."

'* Be it so, my brethren," briefly replied tho
Pontiff.

22 COUNT arensberg; or.

Some six of the cardinals had passed the ordeal, the
Pope, meanwhile, giving but a passing, yet friendly
glance at each of them, as with unaffected tears they
kissed the cross and swore their innocence. His mind
was more intent upon one whose turn was rapidly
approaching. Without the slightest faltering, nay,
with an ease and alacrity which none who had pre-
ceded him had shewn, Soderini approached the holy
symbol, gave his oath, and returned to the interrogatory
a firm and a flat denial.

Tlie Pontiff started, but his sense of dignity re-
pressed all violence.

" My son," said he, " heap not perjury upon thine
other meditated though — thanks to our Holy Mother !
— unconsummated crime." And then he added, but in
a changed tone, ^* Beware ! "

The Cardinal, as if he had been another Ananias,
fell prostrate before the throne. Tears, and broken
accents of confession, and cries for pardon, and sad,
weak self-impeachments followed.

But Leo answered not a word. There, before him,
lay the Cardinal still prostrate and alone ; for aD his
colleagues had fled from near the spot.

" Pursue the questioning," said the Pope. " There
is yet another."

Again, a new set began to pass before him to
vindicate themselves, while the three proposers of the
ordeal crowded around one, on whose forehead big
conscience-drops had started, and were visible to all.

" O I my brother Adrian," said the Cardinal Accolte^

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 23

''follow not the steps of the guilty Soderini. Be it
that thou hast only heard of this design against the
Holy Father, and hast concealed it, confess it all.
Confess it, Adrian, ere thy lips touch the Holy Cross."

" I know nought of it — have shared nought in it,"
he angrily replied.

" Beware, monsignor 1 — beware 1 " came from the
Pontiff, in deep, sepulchral tones.

** Your Holiness condemns, then, without a hear-
ing ! " retorted Cardinal Adrian.

'' Beware, monsignor I — beware ! " And the voice
was rising in emotion and severity.

The guilty criminal sank into his chair in dogged
silence.

" He that hideth his sins shall not prosper ; but he
that confesseth them shall find mercy," whispered the
Cardinal Famese.

*' Guilty — guilty — oh God 1 guilty 1 " groaned the
pale, half-fainting, wretched man.

The amiable heart of the Pontiff was unable any
farther to prolong a scene so painful. And leaving it
to his more immediate ministers to impose a heavy fine
upon the delinquents, he gave hopes of pardon, and
then retired.

24 COUNT abbnsberg; or>

CHAPTER IV.

It will be enough for us to give a very succinct sum-
mary of the events which immediately followed upon
those of the last chapter.

The subordinate agents in this fold conspiracy —
namely, the surgeon Battista, Antonio Nino, Pe-
trucci's secretary, and Pocointesta, were sentenced to
death ; and after suffering excruciating torments, were
finally strangled, and their bodies quartered. The
Cardinal Petrucci, the prime author of the whole,
after having been deprived of his Cardinalate, was
strangled in prison. The Cardinal de Sauli, who
shared with him in degradation from high oflSce, was,
on the intercession of Francesco Cibo, the brother-in-
law of the Pontiff, spared, with the penalty of an
enormous fine ; but he died during the ensuing year*
S. Georgio was unqualifiedly pardoned. As to Sode-
rini and Adrian, the one retired to Fondi, and resided
there until the death of Leo; the other fled from
Rome, and never either returned to the capital, or
continued the discharge of his high ecclesiastical
functions.*

♦ Note 2.

I II II .1 Hi'Hjaj^,

THE DATS OP LUTHER, 25

As might be presumed, the whole city of Rome was
convulsed at a conspiracy so sacrilegious, and at results
so tragical. Nevertheless, the pertinacious policy of the
Papal See never relaxed for a moment, even when it
was directed upon single individuals; and, fiirther, it
now became its especial duty so to stimulate the fetes
of social life, that neither the clergy nor the people
should be disposed to linger long over the late enormi-
tiefe of the Sacred College.

What follows in some few chapters will confirm our
statement.

Within the palace of a Roman noble, and in a
spacious apartment furnished in all the magnificence
of that splendid era, when the revival of art proved
the power of its resurrection by creations that were
either exquisite or sublime, there sat a young lady
alone, and deeply engaged upon some delicate work-
manship in painting.

She was illuminating a missal, and the outline she
was filling up was a small miniature of Da Vinci's
"Last Supper," the immediate renown of which had
caused the industrious copyists at Milan to circulate
its form, as an ornament to books of devotion.

In a moment she ceased her work, held the vellum
from her, and, while gazing at the effect, passed
through the several emotions of sympathy with the
eager questionists, " Lord, is it I ? " — of repulsive
distrust at the dark, cadaverous, purse-clutching
Judas — of subdued awe at that mien of their Master,
in which, though there were expressions of love

26 COUNT akensberg; or,

wounded, there were, above all, those of anticipative
thoughtfulness, and of self-conscious power.

How lovely she looked as she was thus employed!
Above the middle height, yet she was so symmetrically
formed that she did not appear as tall as she really was.
Her fair, swan-like neck, and her falling shoulders,
were displayed to advantage by the dress she wore, —
a boddice of green velvet, cut low and square round
the bust, the sleeves of which were puffed with white
satin, and embroidered with oriental pearls.

On each little finger of her beautifully-formed hands,
glistened one ruby and one emerald ring. Her head
was unadorned, save by the rich profusion of her au-
burn, and somewhat dark, hair. It was braided over
her high, fair forehead, and such luminous gleams rested
on it, that you might have thought them sunbeams.
The arches of her brow, much darker than her hair ;
the bright hazel eye, shaded by long, black, silken
lashes; the full, ruby lips, shewing, as they parted,
teeth that rivalled the pearls she wore ; the fair, trans-
parent complexion, ordinarily pale; the face oval, and
the nose Grecian — all these, as features, may assist the
reader to realize her presence, and to regard her aspect
as one of high and refined maidenhood.

Having compared, for some time, the vellum painting
with the copy upon the easel before her, she replaced
it, and, leaning her head upon her hand, remained in an
attitude of thought. A side door of the apartment
opened, and a man who, from his dress and air, was
evidently an ecclesiastic, glided noiselessly into the

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 27

room. Bianca della Scala (for so was the young lady
named) started.

" Father!" she exclaimed in surprise, " I knew not
that you had returned to Rome."

'* Daughter ! " returned the Priest, " then is my re-
turn displeasing to you ? "

" Displeasing? Oh, no!" she answered faintly; yet,
seeing that he was about to address her with some
solemnity, she added, hastily covering her face with her
hands, " but, father, urge me no more upon the subject
on which you spoke to me when last I saw you, and
which you have so often urged. I cannot, indeed I
cannot, be a nun. In pity, use not your extraordinary
influence over my father, to induce him to sacrifice his
only child. Is it in order that he may bequeath his
wealth towards the building of St. Peter's?"

She laid special emphasis on the words "extraor-
dinary influence."

" Why — why such unusual vehemence, my daughter ?
And why make such sudden protests against being a
bride of Heaven ? Why not have waited till I again
made mention of it, if I ever should?" asked the Priest,
in well-feigned surprise.

*' Instinct, and instinct only, can account for it.
Father Francis," returned the lady. " Of what other,
save this awful topic, have you spoken to me for
months ? And, alas ! I feel I have no vocation to be
* a bride of Heaven.' I cannot" — ^and her tone be-
came warmer — *^ I cannot live buried within convent
walls. I cannot be shut out from all my heart holds

28 COUNT abensberg; ob^

dear. I cannot become a mere machine, moving at the
bidding of my abbess. I have always hated the bare
idea : I now hate it more than ever."

Father Francis stood silent for some moments —
looking at the Lady Bianca, as she still hid her face
in her hands, and spoke not. A singular expression
passed over his pale, intellectual countenance, as he
gazed upon the fair girl before him. At length he
broke the silence, and his soft, silvery tones seemed to
have a magic in them.

** Daughter," he asked, " advancing in front of the
chair in which Bianca was sitting, " why do you now
hate more than ever the peaceful, holy life of a bride of
Heaven?"

** Father," she replied, *' I am not now in the con-
fessional — yet hear me. I meant not that for any-
thing that has transpired since I last saw you, I
now hate a convent life more than ever. But the
more I think of it, the more unsuitable it seems for

me."

As she said this, her neck, cheek, and brow, were
suffused with crimson ; for she felt that keen eyes were
scanning her, and that she was not speaking the exact
truth.

Something had occurred since she had seen the
Father Francis, who had been somQ weeks absent
from Bome, on an embassy to a neighbouring
state.

" Father," after a pause she continued — " Father," —
and then again she paused, — *' will you forgive my

THE DATS OF LUTHER, 29

boldness if I ask a question ? May I ask it^ and that
freely?"

** The Lady Bianca ought to know me well enough
to make such a preface most unnecessary," returned the
Priest, with much courtly suavity.

He then came forward, and placed himself in a
carved chair opposite, in order that he might command
a full view of her expressive countenance while she
spoke.

Bianca saw the Priest's object, and nerving herself
for her task, she calmly fixed her eyes upon his face,
and answered, —

*^ Father, you have have been my instructor— my
confessor — from my childhood. You have taught me
the little all that I know of any value. I have often
thought that you regarded me with something of the
affection of a relative.'*

The Priest, whom this declaration took quite by
surprise, started. A mysterious colour fled to his
pale cheek ; but he recovered himself, and answered
nothing. Bianca was as surprised at that start, yet
continued,—

** Then why do you wish to condemn me to hopeless
misery?"

There was another pause. The Priest still was
silent.

^' I have sometimes thought," resumed Bianca, " that
even you, father — you, with your great gifts and
talents, could never live a monastic life. Yours,
father, is a stirring, active existence. We all know

30 COUNT arensberg; or,

full well that, in these degenerate days, priests endowed
like you are not doomed in this good city of Rome to
dull inertness. I have thought that you must have
sometimes regretted even your priestly character.
Why, then, have the cruelty to influence my parent to
consign me to a life I utterly abhor ?"

" Daughter," quickly, sternly, he rejoined, " these
are questions and surmises, idle — yea, worse than idle.
And you speak, strangely, too: 'degenerate days'?
and what meant the sneer, as you spoke of the ' active,
stirring lives of priests in this good city of Rome'?
Yea, verily, these are 'degenerate days'! The spirit
of schism and heresy, now so rampant beyond the Alps,
may have visited Rome itself. Eh?"

His voice, which at first had been so mellifluous, had
gradually acquired those notes that befit cutting, sus-
picious sarcasm ; and the lofty spirit of the noble
maiden immediately took fire.

" Yes, even to Rome they may have paid a visit ;
and what wonder?" she retorted. "Is there not much
in the present life of Roman ecclesiastics, as well as of
Roman laymen, to cloud with doubt and scepticism
the minds of those who would be the most faithful sons
and daughters of the Church?"

The Priest rose suddenly, as if an asp had stung
him.

" Daughter, what mean you by such fearful lan-
guage ? Whence have come to you these unhallowed
thoughts? They savour of .as foul heresy as do the
words of the blaspheioing Luther!"

THE DAYS OF LUTHEK. 31

His attitude, his flushed face, his eager, angry eye —
all these moved the Lady Bianca — not with terror,
but to self-control; for her fine instinct taught her
that his passion gave her a fair advantage.

** Nay, not so," she replied, quietly. " My faith in
all the doctrines of the Church is, I trust, unshaken.
But her practices, yes, her practices, they, indeed,
must stagger every honest heart. Think, dear Father
Francis — think of a Vicar of Christ, God's Vicegerent
upon Earth, presiding over such a court as this in
Rome: a court, graced by genius, it is true, and by
taste and learning ; yet a court where infidelity is
avowed — where profanity is smiled upon — where low
bufiToonery obtains the highest largess, even from the
Holy Pontifi*!"

" Have you finished, daughter?", sneered the Priest,
as Bianca hesitated to go on.

** Nay, I have not finished. The last entertainment
of His Holiness was one at which it scarcely befitted
a modest maiden to be present. Such heathen jests!
Such Pagan travesties of God and of his saints ! Such
license ! It seemed to my poor mind, that all did
emulate — not merely the learning and the taste, but
the vices of Pagan Bcnne ; and without any of its re-
deeming virtues!"

Had there been a dispassionate observer of this scene,
he would have detected in the countenance of the
Priest marks of thoughts and designs that were running
under current. There were, indeed, signs of astonish-
ment^ of anger, of horror^ so apparently unaffected.

32 COUNT abensberg; on,

that it was not stratige that they escaped Bianca^ whose
earnestness in her subject absorbed her. If it had
been otherwise^ she might, at least, have suspected that
much of his passion was but simulated.

The truth was, — his penetration had forewarned him
of the deep interest which the Lady Bianca was
beginning to feel towards a young German count.
He was well aware that so long as he himself was
present, almost hourly, in the palace of her father, her
consciousness of his own surveillance would restrain the .
natural development of that interest. He longed —
most anxiously longed— to sound the depths of her
young heart; and was well aware that the best
moments in which he might cast his plummet would
be those when the surface of her soul would be
unruffled, and the hand of the measurer of its
depths would be unseen. It was for this he had
eagerly sought for a fair plea for absence from Rome ;
and while thus absent, and while the subject of his
calculation was unsuspicious, he, by inniunerable
devices, kept up his calculations. To him, as he
thought, the danger of her affections being given to
this said German count was nothing in comparison
with the advantage which a thorough knowledge of
her heart would give himself. And so it was that
he delayed his return until, as he imagined, he had
attained his purpose. And, with nearly a full belief
that her vows of love and fealty had been exchanged
with those of her lover, he watched with the utmost
eagerness — yet with consiunmate art — all those indirect

^^^T'ffagBSi nitmmmwmimmmmmamBmBmmtmmBmmamw^^m^mmmmm

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 3S

presamptions^ which Bianca was now giving, of her
haying lent credence to the words and thinkings of
a native of Luther's country.

But no sooner had his fair pupil touched on topics
that were dangerous for himself even — unless he com-
bated her views — ^no sooner did he perceive that if
he combated them^ as the apparent obligations of his
priestly office required, he should risk his ancient
influence upon her — than he, as quickly, changed his
tone.

" A truce — a truce, my daughter," he said smilingly.
•* Happy is it for you that only Father Francis has
heard your philippics. Trust him. He will fully — and to
your satisfaction — answer them anon. But the time
hastens, — and Capello told me you were engaged to
the fete of his Eminetice ***#*, Adieu ! for the
present."

VOL. I.

34 COUNT ABENSBEB6; OB,

CHAPTER V.

The Ttalian noble, to whom the Lady Bianca had
referred as her father, was the Marquis della Scala.
His wife, the marchese, had died at an early age, leav-
ing him one only diaughter, in whose growing loveli-
ness and accomplishments he had found such solace,
that he had remained a faithful widower.

In strong contrast to the low morals of many of his
brother nobles, stood out the character and conduct of
the marquis. With that same love of magnificence,
and that devotion to the arts, which, at this period,
so generally marked the Italian aristocracy, he, stand-
ing almost alone, combined an unsuspecting ingenuous-
ness, such as, while it secured him the warmest affec-
tion and confidence from the virtuous, more frequently
exposed him to the schemes of the designing.

It was to this quality, which we would call a virtue,
but which then was deemed a weakness, that the mar-
quis owed most of his anxieties and dangers. He was
a soldier, and a frank and chivalrous one ; and not all
his feats of arms in the cause of Leo X. could save
him from distrust, simply because he avowed his dis-

m

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 35

approval of that Pontiflfs treacherous movements upon
Urbino. Add to this, several of those disaffected
Cardinals who were concerned in the conspiracy of
which we have already spoken, artfully cultivated his
companionship. And thence it followed that, while
the guileless soldier frequented their society, and saw
but little to disturb his high sense of fealty to his
Sovereign, the over-zealous spies at court pronounced
him as the partisan of treason.

And when half-whispered warnings reached him, his
own consciousness of innocence made him perilously
indifferent, and his trust in the integrity of com-
panions whom he had never seen reason to suspect,
made him, as a point of honour, continue in their
society.

Unhappily for him, he suddenly had reason to qua-
lify, yet not enough to warrant him to withdraw,
his confidence. And the same feeling of honour kept
him from breathing his dread secret to a soul, save to
his confessor. Father Francis.

But the moment that he had entrusted it to even his
confessor, his heart quailed within him ; not because it
might compromise himself, but because he saw instantly
it might compromise those into whose fellowship he
had been admitted: for then, and for the first time,
the thought crossed him, that no laws of confessional
secrecy might prevent Father Francis from divulging
that which might be inimical to the interests of the
Sovereign Pontiff.

It was this miserable thraldom to the chaplain of

86 COUNT abensbebg; or^

bis house, which quickly produced that change in
his wonted brave and independent bearing to which
his daughter made a reference as she spoke of the
** extraordinary influence " acquired over him by the
Priest.

Thus stood matters. The conspiracy, as we have
seen, had been extinguished, and the name of the mar-
quis had been never mentioned. Nevertheless, his soul
that had, heretofore, been so unembarrassed, had lost its
ease. That soul, once an unstained mirror, had been
breathed upon, and its cold fear had retained the dim*
ness upon its surface.

Great were the preparations being made in the
palace of the Cardinal ***** i^ prospect
of the fi^te to which the marquis and his daughter
were invited.

This comparatively youthful and newly-made Cardi-
nal was determined to distinguish himself by his enter-
tainments, and by this one in particular. He had, at
great cost, just finished the decorations and furnishing
of his palace, and on this night it was to be thrown
open to the fairest, and the noblest, and the most dis-
tinguished of the society in Kome.

The evening came. It was with feelings of proud
satisfaction that the Cardinal entered the long suite of
rooms, thirteen of which were thrown open and bril-
liantly lighted up for the entertainment. His gor-
geous dress betrayed the studied care with which its
clerical character might be left inviolate, although it
had even more Qmaments than were prescribed by the

THB DATS OF LUTHEB. 37

Church. He entered^ not alone^ but leaning familiarly
on the arm of Baffaello.

There was a difference in the aspect and the general
bearing of these two young men ; yet was it, at first
sight, scarcely perceptible save by their dress and the
long flowing auburn locks of Baffaello, in contrast to the
Cardinal's shaven crown. The predominance of scarlet
in the robes of the ecclesiastic marked him off, to the
eye, from the violet velvet that fitted closely to the
symmetrical figure of the layman. And the gait of
each might have been noticed as unlike; for whilst
the Cardinal, throwing off the stately dignity of his
profession and his rank, aped the ease and freedom of
the man of the world, and thus might have provoked a
smile, Kaffaello — buoyant with health and natural spirits,
moved forward with a lightsomeness and a grace that
were to be envied by the most refined* But, as to their
expression of features, there was a marked distinction.
Soth were eminently handsome ; both were full of
jollity and mirth; both were reciprocatinff jests; and
yet the voices of their faces were discordant. The
Cardinal's musical tones of speech were so artistic
that you could not forget the performer; those of
Raffaello were free, often wild in their freedom. Com-
mon observers would have pronounced them thought-
less ; for the words they conveyed leaped off and off,
from one topic to another, until at last such tame
observers would have said, — " How consecutive, even
'wlien trivial, is the Cardinal I How flippant and bird-
like is the great painter, even when he professes to be

38 COUNT arensberg; or,

serious I" Such judges of the human mind would have
been In error. True, the Cardinal was consecutive in
his words and thoughts ; but it was because — for this
time — one mighty passion bound him within all in-
tellectual license, to leave him afterwards to his old,
constitutional frivolity ; whereas, the great painter was,
for the time, abjuring the restraints of thought in their
logic sternness, only to resume them soon again, in all
their despotism. Yea, and even when his flights from
one object to another that was distant and apparently
unrelated, a thinker might have guessed, if not cer-
tainly detected, some bond of union which only the
highest genius could have found or used.

The frescoes upon the walls of the chamber which
they entered had been painted by RafFaello's pupils,
chiefly. The designs had been made, almost wholly,
by himself. He stopped involuntarily. The Cardinal
courteously stopped likewise : and as a train of liveried
menials followed his steps, to receive any orders he
might have to give as to improvements in the lighting
or decoration of the suite of rooms, Raflaello sug-
gested a stronger light, or a more subdued one, as
his taste dictated. We need not say how instantly and
perfectly it told. The Cardinal, himself an ardent
lover of art as well as of luxury, was enchanted.

Thanks, my prince of painters!" he exclaimed;
ten thousand thanks that that genius which designed
these glories does not disdain such an humble office."

^^ No thanks, may it please your Eminence," returned
Raffaello ; '^ your own exquisite judgment had left but

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 39

little to improve upon, and that little was only the
duty of the artist by profession."

" Spare me — spare my modesty," interposed the
Cardinal, laughingly. " And now, shall we proceed to
the other rooms?"

The next was a long gallery, adorned with statues,
whose antiqueness appeared to be unquestionable.
Between each was suspended a bronze lamp, of pure
Etruscan fashion, and the perfumed oil which supplied
it sent forth a delicious fragrance. On these Raffaello
gazed with more intentness and admiration than he had
shewn upon the pictures.

Within the last few years, a love of the antique had
been awakened, even to exaggeration; and the costly
sums which were lavished in the purchase of every
remains of former ages, stimulated the poorer classes
among the Komans to delve deep into the ruins of the
Eternal City. Nay more, as we learn from an incident
in the life of Michael Angelo, modem sculptors were
known to have buried the creations of their own chisel,
for the purpose of giving them a simulated value. And,
with the knowledge of this fact, and with his eye now
quickened to keenness, KafFaello scrutinized the various
forms and groups of marble through the vista of which
his Eminence was conducting him. Some of them
Ms intuitive taste instantly discarded, and he passed
on without remark, to the great annoyance of his host.
Others there were, however, before which he lingered.
A Jupiter Tonans, a Cybele, a head of Caesar, riveted
him to the spot. But his perfect courtiership kept

40 COUNT areksbebg; ob^

him silent; for he felt that to utter distinctioiis be-
tween what he felt to be genuine and what he knew
to be surreptitious, would be, to the la^t degree, invi-
dious.

Other apartments were there; but we will not
dilate upon their contents. As to the costly han^gs,
the large mirrors, the ottomans, the couches, all of
velvet or of satin, these gained but a momentarj
glance.

" Now, come and see my delidous retreat," said the
Cardinal, in a tone of slight impatience at Raffitello's
want of interest ; and, so saying, his Eminence led the
way to a room at the very end of the long suite. The
hangings that concealed the door were of sky-blue
velvet. On op^ng it, there appeared a sort of tent,
lined with pale pink silk. Piles, there were, of cushions
of the same material, embroidered in silver. A richly*
chased silver lamp shed its soft light over a besi^utifol
female statue. Some few gems of pictures, each of them
telling an eloquent story of love, adorned the walls.
A flight of steps led to a terrace and a garden below.
This flight of steps was guarded, on either side, with
the most fragrant orange and citron trees, which were
all lighted up with coloured lamps.

Baffaello smiled. He oould not r^ress the thought,
that all this lu3:ury savoured of too much voluptuous-
ness for a prelate of the Church. He, however, merely
expressed his admiraticm*

In one of the marble halls there was prepared a
sumptuous b$mquet. Gold and silver plate, to profti*

mmmfmm^rmmtmmmmmKmmmm^mmm

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 41

4

sion^ was ranged upon the tables. But^ undazzled by
the massive effect thereof^ Baffaello chiefly singled out,
for his examination, several richly-chased cups, on
which was engraved many a classic story, strangely
intermingled with representations of the holiest mys-
teries of our faith. And when we say, that several of
these cups were the workmanship of Benevenuto Cel-
lini — that young engraver whose &me was beginning,
though in another department, to rival that of Baf-
faello — there will be no surprise at the scrutiny he gave
them. What may surprise, however, yet what is un-
questionably true, is, that this noble-minded artist
seems to have been utterly unconscious of a jealous
feeling ; apd that so self-forgotten was he, in his love of
the creations of genius, that with the most ingenuous
fervour he lavished his praises much more than they,
to whom different professions left no ground for the
idea of competition, would have done.

The Cardinal had, at last, conducted his companion
through the entire suite of rooms. He then returned
to the reception-hall, and kept up an animated conver-
sation until the arrival of his guests.

The hall soon began to fill ; and quickly after, other
fialoons and rooms threatened to become crowded.

Very different was the appearance of the guests at
this fete, from that of an entertainment given by a
high noble of any court of Europe in the present day.
. If a variety of costumes is assumed now by gentlemen,
they have a want of ease and grace: they are un-
lM2CUstomed to the dress. But in the chivalrous age

42 COUNT ABENSBERG; OR^

of wWcli we are now speaking — the age of the gallant
Francis I. — the age of our own merry and gorgeous^
though bluff, Henry VIII. — in this age, every noble,
whether a simple knight or immediately attached to a
court, was habituated to such changes.

Rome then, from so many causes, the centre of
attraction — Kome, the favoured nursery of the revival
of the fine arts, where the fostering care of the Popes
Julius and Leo. X. had warmed the genius of a
Bramante, a Michael Angelo, and a Kaffaello, into fall
vigour — Rome, with her stronghold on the superstition
of many nations, though the gross abuses of her system
had weakened the faith of her own population — had
a constant arrival of devotees and pilgrims to swell the
number of her inhabitants. The Cardinal # * *
one of the chief favourites of the Pontiff, and over
whom his influence was vast, had been able to assemble
many a great, and many a renowned guest. It was
certainly no slight merit of this age, that genius and
learning, in every form, was highly appreciated by the
potentates of Europe. While, at Rome, even the im-
perious Julius had caressed a Michael Angelo and a
Bramante, and while Leo lived in closest fellowship
amid his learned companions, Francis I. adorned his
court with literary attractions, and Henry VIIL
laboured to do the same; and there is little doubt
that the wise Frederick of Saxony was first induced
to protect Luther, by the great Reformer's identity of
interest with the University of Wittemberg. While
scanty and cold is the patronage which this utilitarian

THE DATS OF LUTHEK. 43

age bestows upon Its great Kterary characters and
artists^ whose pen or whose pencil is, hereafter, to
confer that only immortality which many of their
condescending patrons can hope to attain, it was the
glory of the sixteenth century that rich and great
and powerful sovereigns prided themselves in receiv-
ing, on terms of a generous and graceful equality, the
scholar, the poet, the painter, and the sculptor. And,
as the voluminous annals of that day might shew,
this noble example was generally followed by the high
nobles and ecclesiastics that were around them.

But to return to our tale. Amid a crowd of car-
dinals and bishops, abbots and priors, dukes and
marquises, counts and knights, artiste and great
merchants, the distinguished head of Michael Angelo
might be seen in earnest conversation with some prince
of the Church, as to the means of obtaining funds for
carrying on that stupendous work, the all-absorbing
topic of the day, namely, the erection of St. Peter's.
There, in another spot, was a Papal Legate fresh from
Germany, detailing the, to him, appalling outburst of
public opinion, which threatened to shiver the chains
that for ages had fettered the human mind. And
great was the license indulged in against the supine-
ness of Pope Leo; for in this era of scepticism at
Kome, the comparatively tolerant sway of that Pontiff
contrasted favourably with many a former period.
Many a speculation was hazarded as to how the heresy
-w^ould end. But it is a remarkable fact, that all
seemed to expect that it would soon be crushed

44 COUNT arensbebg; or^

utterly — finally^ and that persecution was both the
necessary and lawful means to be adopted.

One other circumstance deserves our notice. Al-
though the {&te was held within the palace of a high
prelate of the Churchy many were the jests and tales
circulated as to the profligacy of ecclesiastics; bitter
were the sarcasms of the laymen present upon the
venality of the priesthood. Nor was there wanting a
ghostly man from Germany to dramatize^ for the amuse*
ment of the dignitaries present, the ludicrous scenes
which Tetzel in that auction of indulgences which he
was holding beyond the Alps, had exhibited.

From among a crowd so heterogeneous, the pur*
pose of our tale must single out one, over whose future
fortunes some of the Circumstances of this grand fete
held mastery.

His fair complexion, his light blue eye, his long
flaxen locks — apart even from his national costume —
plainly shewed he was of the Teutonic race ; whilst
both his own attitude, and the number of his suite,
shewed as plainly that he was a man of eminence.

Count Arensberg — so his followers addressed him —
was a young Saxon noble, who had been despatched by
the Emperor Maximilian as an envoy-extraordinary to
the Pontiff. He was apparently too young to have
been entrusted with an office of so much responsibility ;
but the fact was, he had carried to the Emperor, at
Vienna, special recommendations from Frederick of
Saxony; and the monarch, trusting to the assurances
thus given him of the count's great powers in

THE DATS OP LUTHEB. 45

diplomacy, had sent him on a mission that, from long
experience, he himself knew would require faculties of
the highest order.

How much he must have confided in the judgment of
the Elector Frederick, and how favourable must have
been the impressions which Count Arensberg made
upon the aged Caesar — so that the latter should confide
so great a stake to the hands of the former — may be
judged of from his own declaration : ** The Pope,"
said Maximilian, ^^ has used me like a rogue. I can
fairly say that I have never found sincerity or good
faith in any Pope I have met with ; but, please God, I
hope this will be the last of them."

Count -^ensberg had been accidentally introduced
to the Marquis della Scala, upon his arrival at Home.
The Marquis — then but just returned to the Eternal
City from the successful campaign against Francesco
Maria I., Duke of Urbino — ^had given several ffites in
celebration of the triumphs of the Ponlifi^s army ;
and at one of them Count Arensberg first met the
daughter of his host.

It will suffice to add, that the young Saxon became
a very frequent guest in the palace of the veteran ; the
one attracted thither by other influences than those
exerted by the Marquis, — and the latter glad to attract
him, from his admiration of his young friend's senti-
ments and morals. Those sentiments and morals stood
out in pleasing contr^t to what were avowed and
practised by the Epicurean society around him.

We have said that Count Arensberg was moving

46 COUNT abensbebg; ob,

among the varied groups in the palace of the Car-
dinal. He was anxious and restless. Pass a few
short days^ and he knew that he would have to return
to his imperial master^ for his mission was well nigh
concluded. And there had been sundry passages of
confidence and affection between the Ladj Bianca and
himself^ that no efforts of his to steel his heart with
the stoicism of duty, could obtain for him a corslet in-
vulnerable to the arrows of a virgin and an ardent
love.

As he roamed along the apartments, his eyes, we may
well believe, were in constant quest of Bianca.

At length, and to his delight, he descried her moving
onward, and leaning upon the arm of her father. She
was attired in all that splendour of costume for which
the Roman ladies of that period were so famous. It
was her father's pride to see her pre-eminent ; and it is
not to be denied that Bianca had taken unwonted pains
with her appearance. She did not forget that, possibly,
this was the last night on which she should meet Count
Arensberg before his departure. She wore a dress of
the richest white satin, and a camera, or boddice, of
the same material. The skirt was open at the sides,
and slashed with silver brocade in open work ; so, like-
wise, it was embroidered in silver in open work down
the front. The camera had wide, loose, open sleeves,
in the French fashion, slashed with silver brocade, and
lined with crimson satin. Over her dress she wore,
according to the custom of that time, an albemia
or mantle of crimson satin brocaded with silver in

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 47

relief; this also was open at the sides. Her rich and
abundant hair was curiously wreathed around her head,
so as to form a kind of coronet, such as that with which
Caterina Sforza is represented. In this coronet of
soft, lustrous hair, a chain of emeralds and rubies
(an heir-loom in her father's branch of the La Scala
family) was twined. Another and a similar chain
went down the front of the camera. These, with
a few costly rings, completed her costume.

Count Arensberg saw nought of all this splendour.
His gaze was &r too intent upon the countenance of
her he loved — a countenance whose native beauty was
shewn off by the foils of the artificial ornaments that
gleamed and sparkled near it.

While he stood, half musing at a dist^ce the inter-
val of which was so filled up by crowds of guests, as
to make it impossible for him to approach her, the
Lady Bianca, not having as yet discovered him, though
she longed to do so, was listening to those various con*
versations which we have detailed already.

For a while she had remained silent, sometimes
blushing at remarks that were too free, and sometimes
innocently interested and amused at descriptions or re-
partees that met her ear.

At last, that shameless travesty (which we have
above mentioned) of Tetzel's " Auction of Indulgences
in Germany," elicited from her lips : —

^'Oh! shame, shame! and cruel to the Church I
love I First, priests make a trade of sin, and then
indulge in burlesque of those fearful comic scenes

48 COUNT abensbebg; OB,

which superstition evokes from guilt-laden souls hj this
disgraceful traffic''

Her w(Mrds were heard and noted with all bitterness,
by the groups that were around her. But in so mixed
an assembly they deemed it inexpedient to retort^ and
so they moved off to a more retired spot to utter their
ribald jests.

Her father affectionately remonstrated with her for
her imprudence.

" My father," she replied, ** it was imprudent ; but I
trust I did not overstep the bounds of maiden modesty.
How could I hear such scenes described — described, too,
by such men, and in such a spirit — and not raise my
feeble voice in rebuke of such hypocrisy ?"

*' Thou art in the right I think, my child," returned
the Marquis ; ** yet, not to say that woman should be
ever backward in so publicly avowing her opinions,
beware ; for thou wilt make these men thine enemies,
and their very words this night might convince thee
they are unscrupulous."

*' Enough, dearest father, enough. You will forgive
the inconsiderateness of your daughter. I will take
heed in future, for your sake as well as my own."

Why is Bianca's face so suddenly suffused with
blushes? There seems to be no apparent cause for
such confusion. What moves her so? The stately
ambassador from the Emperor advances in all pomp,
and with him is the young German Envoy.

Bianca, recalling the words of Father Francis, could
not help feeling confused on seeing Arensberg. She

THE DATS OF LUTHEK, 49

saw too that he was regarding her with an intentness
of gaze, that made him but a bad listener to the gay
repartees of the Cardinal, with whom he was convers-
ing, and whose eye incessantly, and with the glances
of the basilisk, was reverting to herself.

The Cardinal had instantly detected the inattention,
as well as the earnest and admiring look of Count
Arensberg ; and he perceived, as quickly, Bianca's
blushes and confusion ; and thence he drew inferences
that might prove adverse to a scheme which he had
plotted for many a day, and which he proposed to him-
self, this evening, to further.

Father Francis was standing near, and only a look
passed between them, when the Priest, quietly, and
with assumed unconcern, glided to the side of the
Marchese, and engaged him in conversation.

It must have been in consequence of some masonic
hint during that conversation (for no request had been
uttered audibly), that the Marchese, accompanied by
his daughter, stole off to a saloon that seemed to be
the least frequented. And then — though still with
a reserve that was mysterious — Father Francis uttered
words which induced the anxious nobleman to follow
him still farther, leaving the Lady Bianca alone !

The Priest soon returned, but without the Marchese.
*^ Your father. Lady Bianca, has just received intel-
ligence, so important, that he has been obliged to leave
iknafite. And if," continued he, *^ you will come with
me to a more retired spot — say, yonder balcony,
which leads to the gardens of this palace — I can, per-

VOIi. I. E

50 COUNT abensbebg; OB,

Daps, more prudently, give you an insight into what
has alarmed him."

Many a day before, Bianca's fears had been aroused
by frequent meetings that had been held at her father's
palace, and by a mystery studiedly thrown around
those meetings. And, therefore, it was far from
strange, that her step was prompt and hurri^ as
she followed her Confessor to the spot that he had
indicated.

When they reached that pavilion — which the Car-
dinal had shown to Raffaello with so much eagerness —
Father Francis opened a secret door ; and, motioning
to Bianca to enter, closed it as soon as she had passed
through, without entering himself.

Bianca, to her surprise— alarm, we might say— found
herself alone with her host.

The Cardinal advanced, and, leading her to a seat,
commenced a high-flown— and far from clerical — strain
of compliments upon her beauty, — declaring that never
had it appeared to him so pre-eminent as on that
night.

" Hush ! my Lord Cardinal," said Bianca, ^^ such
adulation as this is but unseemly in a prince of Holy
Church, and to one of her humblest daughters. Why,
may I ask," she continued, " has your Eminence chosen
so strange a time as that of this gay fite^ for a secret
interview ? It could not have been simply to make me
listen to such idle compliments that you have with-
drawn me from the protection of my father. Why, I
repeat, am I here alone with you?"

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 51

«(

Lady Bianca,'' returned the Cardinali ^* true it is^
you were not brought here merely to listen to what
you term so scomAilly, idle compliments ; lliough^
sooth to say> I have not found Roman ladies so averse
to listen to the praises of their beauty as to call forth
remonstrance when those praises have been uttered.

** Am I not young ? Am I not powerful and
wealthy ? Am I devoid of attractions for the female
heart?" he asked^ in a lower tone. '* We are fettered^
Lady Bianca, by the trammels of our state^ as eccle-
siastics. Hard^ indeed^ would it be^ if we^ the princes
of the Churchy could not find some kind and lovely
fnenda ; a purely Platonic friendship with whom (and
I ask no more) might make us 8(»ne amends for the
cheerless celibacy to which our churchmanship con-
demns us. You^ fair lady, must have read of the pure
friendship great Plato taught."

'^ Platonic friendship I your Eminence/' said Bianca,
slowly rising from her seat ; " I know not what Pagan
philosophers may have taught ; but this I know, that
to my simple mind, right and wrong cannot be con-
founded by any sophistry of the schools ; be that
sophistry Pagan, or, worse still, adopted by a Christian
prelate for his own selfish purposes. No friendship,"
she added, with marked emphasis, '^ can exist between
your Eminence and myself save what is based, on my
part> on the great deference I tdsh to entertain for
your high dignity as an ecclesiastic; and, on your
part, my Lord Cardinal," — and the colour rose, and
her tones became still deeper and more distinct, — ^' on

52 COUNT abensberg; or,

your part, on the respect which the daughter of the
Marchese della Scala has a right to claim, till, by her
conduct, she has forfeited that claim."

The Cardinal gazed on her admiringly, and ex-
claimed, —

" Nay, by Jupiter 1 fair lady, if you are so averse
to grant me even a Platonic friendship, what say you
to having inspired a love so deep, so powerful, that,
with the hope of marrying you, I would be well con-
tent (as did the illustrious Caesar Borgia) to bid
farewell to all the power, as weU as fetters, of my
office; to resign my cardinalate; and (as one high
in the Pontiffs favour might in these changing times
hope to gain it) strive for some rich Italian principality,
where you, fair Bianca, might rule as queen? Pope
Leo would never visit this my desire of change with
any great severity; for, on my word, I believe that
these same official trammels at times sit heavily upon
the Holy Father."

" From me your Eminence could hope for nothing,"
replied Bianca firmly. *^ The man I could love (and
without love I will never wed) is not a recreant priest,
false to his solemn vows (fetters I your Eminence calls
them). Never! not though he were to realize the
project of Borgia the Infamous, and unite our poor
divided Italy beneath one crown, and wear that crown
himself 1 I hold no power to be desirable, if not
attained by virtuous means* But your Eminence must
be jesting — a sorry jest, however I"

" I implore you," she resumed, after a few moments*

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 53

pause, " let me return to my father. I would know
why he was induced to leave me so suddenly."

She spoke with tremulous eagerness, for she felt her
position was embarrassing and unpleasant, as the un-
principled Cardinal had betrayed sentiments and objects
to her so every way abhorrent. Bianca was too sadly
aware, since her residence in Rome — from the common
reports that were frequently alluded to by the society
assembled in her father's palace — how the Cardinals
were wont to use their power and wealth for unworthy
purposes* A sudden, fearful thought crossed her — lest
the absence of her host and of herself should be dis-
covered, and made the subject of sarcasm and jest ; and,
oh ! worst of all, lest Count Arensberg should hear of
and misinterpret it.

This fear once suggesting itself to her mind, the
recollection of the Roman ladies and high ecclesiastics
whom she had heard lightly spoken of, crossed her
memory; and the fear lest she should, however un-
justly, be ranked among them, called the tears into her
eyes, as with increasing anxiety she entreated the
Cardinal to allow her to rejoin her father.

'* The Marchese has left us — and so suddenly, de-
spite the claims of courtesy to me — his host — that,
I fear me, some affair of moment must have withdrawn
him," returned the Cardinal. ** And yet — and yet," he
continued, " be not anxious, fairest lady. By my
power, as a Prince of Holy Church, I pledge you,
there shall be no danger to your parent, will you but
deign to hearken to my prayers I"

54 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

" Monsignore," returned Bianca — and in a tone so
deep^ and with a deliberateness so full of thought^ that,
of themselves, they struck both the ear and the heart
of the Cardinal, — " Monsignore, we, the laity, hear
on all sides that the vices of the clergy is one of
the chief causes assigned for the rapid spread of
heresy. It is said the power of the Church is
waning. Her hold upon the affections of the people
in Rome, as well as in other lands, is grievously im-
perilled. In deep sorrow, I implore your Eminence to
lay this to heart. Use your high station, your power,
your influence, for purposes more worthy than those you
have this night disclosed, or God and the Church will
require of you an awful account for gifts misused.,
The conduct, my Lord Cardinal, which has been too
common among high ecclesiastics, will ere long blast
the very pinnacles of the Church. May her founda-
tions be left standing ! "

"By Minerva I" exclaimed the Cardinal, laughing
sarcastically, " the lady Bianca della Scala deems it
her vocation to teach and warn the princes of the
Church. No lady abbess could speak more like an
oracle ! But know, proud beauty, that this humour
in you suits me not. Beware ! you need my aid
more than you are aware," he continued, his voice
softening as he spoke. " You ask why you are
summoned here. I will tell you. You are here be-
cause I deemed that I could more tenderly than any
less devoted friend, commimicate to you the sad intel-
ligence, that your father has just been arrested — yea.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 66

here in these very halls — on the charge of conspiring
against the sacred life of the Pontiff. This arrest
here," he hastily added, " was not done with my con-
currence, but by the express orders of Leo, which I
dared not oppose.

** As a layman, you know well that little mercy will
be shewn the Marchese. Ere long, fearful tortures must
extort confession from even his brave soul I All men
will desert him when this charge is uttered. Think
then. Lady Bianca, — think then, is it well to make me
an enemy ? to make me, who could and would befriend
him?"

Bianca shuddered. All her previous suspicions rushed
upon her mind; and, strange to say, she doubted not
the truth of the arrest, though her noble nature revolted
at the baseness of such intelligence so used.

She, who hitherto had been glowing with the blood
of indignation and of scorn, became as colourless as the
neighbouring statue.

She sank not ; she fainted not ; a scream, that scarcely
escaped the double doors of the apartment, was the only
audible expression of her anguish. With her hands
clasped, she stood rooted to the spot.

The Cardinal, relentless though he was when the
gratification of his passions was concerned, was not
naturally hard-hearted, and he beheld not unmoved
her dire agony.

" Lady Bianca," the case may not be altogether
hopeless. I have influence with the Holy Father ; that
influence I will exert, only smile upon my suit."

56 COUNT ABEKSBEBG; OR5

These words unloosed the tongue of Bianca^ ahnost
paralyzed though it was by excessive grief.

"Is this true? Your Eminence could not have the
cruelty thus to trifle with a daughter's heart ? Is my
father accused of being a conspirator against the life of
the Pontiff, or have you invented this tale for the sake
of frightening me ? Answer me truly, as you hope for
mercy hereafter I "

"By all I hold most sacred, I speak the truth!" ex-
claimed the CardinaL

Bianca raised her eyes to his countenance, and saw
he spoke truly. She exclaimed, — " Oh ! my Lord
Cardinal, you say if I smile upon your suit, you will
use your influence to save my father. Do not yourself
or me such a wrong as to put a price upon your
friendly aid. My father is innocent of this foul charge,
I am certain of it. Promise me that you will serve him
unconditionally ?"

But the Cardinal, mortified by her rejection of his
proffers, resolute that he would nevertheless conquer,
impatient because his too prolonged absence might be
observed and commented on among his guests, would
only say, —

"I must return to my guests; yet believe that it
is my wish to serve you; but remember, that it is
only on certain conditions I will do my best to save
the Marchese. You must give me audience to-morrow
at the La Scala Palace."

" Lord Cardinal," returned Bianca, with indignation,
" the conditions you are not ashamed to speak of, as

wmmmrmmmmmm

THE DATS OF LUTHER* 57

the price at which I must buy your good offices for my
father, prove to me that I must immediately^ without
loss of time, seek aid elsewhere."

As she spoke, she first attempted to open the door by
which Father Francis had introduced her; but then,
reflecting that she could not re-enter the saloon un-
observed, she turned suddenly and fled down the steps
that led to the gardens of the palace.

The Cardinal rushed after her — partly from that
small particle of chivalry that still remained within
him, and that could not let him leave a woman in
agony forlorn — and partly from a fear lest she should
^leet with any of his enemies, whose suspicions might
be awakened at her distress.

If his mind had then been unexcited, and his heart
been open to the impressions of nature, the scene
which met him would have touched him, as he reached
the basement of the steps. From above, in her own
deep heaven, the full silver moon was gazing down
upon the maiden, who, pale, and speechless, and be*
wildered, stood looking around for some means of flight.
But instead of his catching influences that should have
been both gentle and purifying, and also inspiring to a
true knight, a new alarm arrested him. His quick
suspicious eye instantly discerned a tall figure just
crossing the dark shadow-line of the palace, and then
moving straight towards Bianca. The Cardinal made
haste to intercept him, and as he advanced, the alarm
became the greater ; for the unknown was habited in
.the robes of an ecclesiastic^ and his head was shrouded

58 COUNT ARENSBEBO; OH^

in his cowl ; and his Eminence began to dread lest he
should prove some fanatic purist of the Church, who
might not only be acute enough to read the matter, but
be bold enough to shout to the rescue.

.His suspense was short, however; for the cowled
figure no sooner saw that it was his Eminence than he
revealed his features, and the anxious Cardinal found
that he was Father Francis.

"Father," he said, earnestly, **take instant charge
of the poor heart-broken Lady Bianca, and accompany
her with her retainers to her home, I pray you. Her
terror for her father hath nearly unseated reason. I
will aid you to soothe her and protect her on the
morrow."

So saying he retired within the palace — not wholly
at his ease ; for long, and in many trying circumstances,
had Father Francis shewn an integrity that remained
unblemished. But the Cardinal knew his prudent
jealousy for the honour of the Church, and now — as he
could do no more— he must trust to his discretion.

Meanwhile, Bianca, timid from the suspicions of the
last hour, had, at first, thought of flying even from the
Priest. Might he not be in league with his superior ?
And her heart sank still lower within her when she
found them approaching one another.

The Cardinal was even then thoughtfully cunning
enough to make his speech audible to Bianca, with the
design of half propitiating her feelings.

We cannot say that her relief was great i^hen she
found that it was Father Francis who stood near her.

THE DAYS OP LUTHER, 59

Why had he shared in the arrest of her father ? Why
had he left herself so long in the society of the Car-
dinal? And why was he walking in the calm, quiet
moonlight despite her parent's danger, and not stirring
for his aid.

These thoughts and others, quick and barbed as
poisoned arrows, shot through her. Then as quickly,
yet soothingly, her long-cherished reverence for the
kind guide and instructor of her childhood swelled up
again within her bosom.

^^ My father I my father 1 where is my father? lead
me to my father!" she exclaimed, in broken accents,
as the Priest approached her.

He answered nothing, save by his finger upon his
lips entreating silence, and then motioning to her to
follow him. Nevertheless, by the clear moonlight, she
could read in his countenance such grief, such sym-
pathy, that the sense of forlomness vanished, and as
he hurried forward she kept beside him.

Re-crossing the shadow-line, he led her through a
postern into the palace-garden, crossed it, entered a
private door of the eastern wing of the building, and
through a labyrinth of silent, deserted corridors,
brought her — as if retracing their steps — back to the
central hall.

The sounds of the fete^ which had died away before,
now again grew in noise and in distinctness ; and
Bianca, who had begun to breathe more freely at the
belief that she was quitting that hated spot, became
alarmed and suspicious afresh.

60 COUNT ABENSBEB6; OR,

** No, no," she cried, shuddering, " take me not back
there ! Take me anywhere but there I "

He still answered nothing, but again placed his finger
on his lips.

The truth was this. The Priest had taken in, at a
glance, the whole of her position. He saw, far more
clearly than would have pleased the Cardinal, what was
the peril of his young charge. He saw how important
it was that she should leave the palace openly, and that
the ground of her withdrawal should be plausible, and
so blind the eyes of the curious and malevolent. It
was for this, that, aided by his knowledge of the palace,
he had conducted her through its secret passages, until
at length, by one of the ordinary doors that surrounded
the great hall, they opened upon the crowd of attend-
ants that were in waiting.

"The Lady Bianca della Scala's servants!" he de-
manded in a tone of haste ; and added with intentional
loudness, " the heat has brought on faintness. Haste,
haste ! "

Her litter was soon brought, and her bearers,
quickened by their grateful anxiety for their beloved
young mistress, carried her to her father's house so
rapidly, that the Priest had diflSculty to keep beside
her.

Brief though was this passage between the palaces,
it was long enough, now that Bianca's personal terrors
were removed, for her filial love to collect all its
energies and determination. She had observed the
wise efforts of the Priest to lull all suspicion, and now

THE DATS OF LUTHER. " 61

Quickly resolved to lend herself to the thoughtful guile
that he had practised.

She assumed faintness as the cause of her return so
early ; and the amazed servants about her person could
readily believe it. The Marchese — so the Priest let
them know — had been called in to give his counsel to
the State ; and that they readily believed likewise.

So far, both had instinctively co-operated, and Bianca
gained her room without the hazard of causing a sur-
mise or a rumour about her parent.

** I will leave you, daughter ; but will remain within
the palace. Let me counsel perfect quietness with your
Theresa; and may the Holy Virgin soon recover
youl"

Their eyes met, and no words were needed to con-
vey his wish, that she should be alone with her faithful
handmaid, and his purpose to return soon.

The doors were scarce closed when the long pent-
up agonies of Bianca burst forth. There were now
no restraints; for Theresa, her lost mother's lowly
friend and companion, had, since her death, been a real
friend to Bianca.

"The Virgin save us! What can ail my lady?"
she cried, as Bianca flung herself upon her couch, amid
sobs that seemed to struggle for the mastery.

It was some time before she could articulate, and
then her friend could catch nothing but the broken
words, " My father ! my father ! "

Nothing much more than this had passed between
them, when they heard the well-known private signal

62 COUNT ABEK8BEB6; OB,

of the Priest, and he entered by a door secret to all
save those who were now its inmat.ea>

(Let it not be thoaght extraordinary that Theresa
was allowed to remain and share the ooimcils of Biuica
and Father Frauds. None knew better than the
latter her truth of heart — ^her quickness, yet discretion
— ^her deep love of Holy Church, and tenderness for her
good fiune— and, above all, in the duties that might
devolve upon Bianca and himself, the absolute impos-
sibility of carrying them out without giving her their
fullest confidence.)

Both of them had to hang in amdous waiting over
Bianca, as gradually the sobs grew fiiinter.

** Take me — ^take me to my father ! Where is my
fether?'*

''What I action before thought?" returned the Priest
kindly.

''Take me to my fiitherl" she asked pascaonately.
"Where should his child be but. at his side, be he
where he may? Take me, dear Father Frauds !" —
that natural instinct that suggests terms the most per-
suasive now prompted her to call him so.

"What! action before thought?" again he asked.
" And," he added, " dares my daughter devise or take
one step without first seeking for the help and guidance
of the Holy Virgin ? "

So saying, he led her, by his example, to a small
oratory, and then, kneeling before a Madonna, he be*
sought the pity and the prayers of the Virgin Moliier
for the weeping maiden. Yea, and more; his pious

THE DATS OP LUTHEB. 63

soul, limited though it was, now burst beyond the con-
fines of the practice of his Church ; and, in a strain
that was then unwonted, he ascended to the very foot-
steps of the Throne of the Son of God, and, with a
humble yet earnest directness, implored His succour.

If he had done this solely with the purpose of calm-
ing down the agitations of Bianca's bosom, and of so
fitting her to think and to determine, he would have
acted wisely. For, as when his Divine Master stilled
the winds and the waves, and there was a calm, so
did this act of loving trust in Heaven stay the bewil-
dering anxieties of his young charge. But Father
Francis believed himself, and had taught Bianca to
believe, that devotion was more than a potent spell;
that, mighty as it was even though it were to terminate
in itself, it was still more mighty in its result of gain-
ing the gracious interference of the Most High.

" I have been wrong, most wrong. Father, in yield-
ing to the wild storm of terror, and while it raged I
forgot God," she said, in a tone of deep penitence, as
they rose from before the altar.

^ Bless Him, then, daughter, that amid its fierce
bowlings He hath caused thee to hear His voice, and
to remember Him," returned the Priest. " And now
that we have prayed, let us proceed to think and act.
A(ation should follow upon prayer, as well as prayer
should precede action."

Sianca gazed, for a moment, with a look much more
open than suspicious, yet, with a tremble of uncer-
tainty, upon the Priest.

64 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

" Father, though it delay action, oh ! first clear
away, for I am sure you can, the horrid fears that have
tormented me about yourself. Why have you had a
share in the seizure of my father ? Why did you leave
me alone, and for so long, within the power of his
Eminence ? "

" My acts must answer, daughter," returned the
Priest ; and Bianca saw a flush of ingenuous pride upon
features of habitual self-mortification and humility.
Still the face beamed with such guilelessness, even
its pride was so truthfully that of wounded innocence,
and his words, that refused an explanation yet de-
manded confidence, were so unlike those of insincerity,
that Bianca could vent only reproaches upon herself
for her injustice.

** Nay, daughter, waste not thy strength in such self-
punishment. Thou hadst apparent reason to distrust
me ; but my deeds, not words — not words now at least —
must answer for me."

" Then tell me— tell me all about my father, and oh !
lead me to him."

*^ I know nought more than that the Marchese has
been arrested, and is in St. Angelo."

** For what?" demanded Bianca, eagerly.

"Of that I dare speak nothing. Nay, 1 know-
nought, save from a few casual observations of the
Cardinal."

« The Cardinal I The Cardinal ! I see it all— the
villain I — ^he would make the child an orphan — that the
orphan might become his victim !"

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 65

Both the Priest and Theresa raised their hands
aghast at this frightful^ perilous outburst. The nature
of Bianca seemed to them to be changed utterly^ and
in an instant. The expressions of eyes, lips^ forehead,
colour, and tone — all were new to them, and they trem-
bled for her reason.

" You are silent 1 are you ? What I no word in de-
fence of an anointed Priest of the Most High?" ex-
claimed Bianca, with a wild laugh that rang ominously
through the room, and amid the gloomy silence of the
night.

"For the love of Godl be calm, dear lady," said
Father Francis. " I will go instantly in quest of in-
formation about the Marchese. Trust me, daughter, I
will do all a poor Priest can do ; but to gain admission
to the dungeon would be a thing unheard of."

With his cowl carefully drawn over his head, and
with a heart pierced with sorrow for the child and
despair for the parent, he retired noiselessly by the
same secret door through which he had entered the
apartment.

VOL. I.

66 COUVT ▲BBNSBCBa; (Ht,

CHAPTEE VL

Meanwhile^ Count Arensbei^ was a ^vej to anxieties
which, though natural, were not the less severe. He
had left the Jite, vexed at his ineffectual efforts to
ascertain the reasons of the sudden retirement of the
Lady Bianca and her father — efforts that had been in-
effectual chiefly because of those restraints upon bie
official character, which so ruled his movements as
made any direct inquiries to be difficult.

And the entire of the day following made him feel
still more uneasy; for, notwithstanding his re^peated
attempts to gain admission to the La Scala Palace, he
was mysteriously, though courteously, repulsed. These
more than fretting disappointments were soon aggrar
vated, almost beyond endurance, when in the evening
he had to quit the kindred gloom of his own chamberg
and to meet the glare and the hilarity of a grand banquet
to which he had been summoned by the Pontiff.

Two reasons had prompted his Holiness to give this
grand banquet. The one was, to restore that friendly
amity of the Sacred College which had been so recently
and so seriously disturbed; while he thus could inciden-

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 67

tally introduce to their body, under the most attractive
circumstances^ the thirty-one new Cardinals whom he
had just created. The other reason was^ to inaugurate^
with the highest pomp^ the Hall of Torre Borgia^
whose walls fiaffaello had covered with his frescoes.

This was the first occasion on which these glorious
paintings were uncovered. They are still known as
" the Burning of Borgo Vecehio," ^^ the Battle of Ostia,"
" the Justification of Leo III. before Charlemagne," and
" the Coronation of Charlemagne." And none will
doubt the policy of the Pontiff, as he strove, by assem-
bling them at such a banquet, to enkindle the soften
ing love of art in the breasts of the irritated Cardinals,
and to bring them back to feelings of loyalty and
gentleness.

" You are ill at ease, I fear me," said the Ambas-
sador-in-Ordinary, Von Teutleben, to Count Arens-
berg, "otherwise your lordship woiJd feel more zest
at a banquet such as this — one consecrated by the
presence of his Holiness, and ennobled by such great
men as sit yonder."

" In good truth, my lord," returned Arensberg, " I
am far from feeling want of zest. I may be silent,
but the scene around us is surely enough to make one
silent."

" Ought that trenches on the interests of our Mas-
ter?" asked the Ambassador, inquiringly.

"Not one jot," said Arensberg; "yet who could be
voluble, my good lord, while he is in the presence of a
Holy Pontiff? or, supposing that presence wanting.

68 COUNT abensberg; ob,

while he has the high privilege and honour of looking
at yonder divine frescoes, to say nought of the men
that are gazing on them with such admiration?"

No one can wonder that the latter of these speakers
failed in that manifestation of interest which each guests
save himself, was eagerly displaying. He strove, how-
ever, to conceal his languor.

These two German nobles could see, from the spots
they occupied, the Holy Father himself, who, though
seated alone at a table that was by several steps raised
above the basement of the hall, was able, as he was
ever willing, to cultivate companionship with his guests.
Around them, at their own table, were ecclesiastics of
the highest grade; and ambassadors from Foreign
Courts of the highest trust ; and last, though not least,
scholars, poets, sculptors, painters, many of whom had
already gained a distinction among their contemporaries
which posterity has recognised to have been deserving.

The newly made Cardinals Cajetan and Campeggio
— the one destined to take an important part in the
approaching controversies of the Christian world, and
the other to take such a stand in the struggle of our
Henry VIII. against his virtuous Queen Catherine ;
Bembo, so distinguished for his love and patronage of
literature, and especially for diplomatic power; the
poets Accolti and Tebaldeo; Paulo Giovio, Bibiena,
and Agostino Chigi — these, and others without num-
ber, might, and under other circumstances, ought to
have made Count Arensberg far otherwise than silent,
or, as some interpreted that silence, sullen.

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 69

" Is my lord iU ? " whispered Mellendorf — Count
Arensberg's young page — who was standing behind
him.
" Hush I look yonder and listen."
This arose from a conversation between three of the
guests which^ in its earnestness^ had become audible to
others, and which, from the character and position of
the speakers, attracted all ears around them.

"God be thanked that I was bom in the time of
Michael Angelo Buonarotti !" exclaimed RafFaello,
whom we have already introduced to our readers, for
the display of whose frescoes the present grand banquet
had been given, and who was thus shewing his in-
genuous fervour, in reply to a speech of a fellow-guest
who was sitting opposite.
This was what had called forth the exclamation, —
" I know whence hath come the beauty of form, of
proportion, of detail in those nude figures of yonder
Incendio di Borgio. They come, Messer Chigi, from
the soul of one who, let me say, though the world calls
us rivals, is, in himself, more than the ideal of our art.
Look at him, good Agostino, thinkest thou that even
Perugino hath divined beauty aud grace, masculine
though he is, more symmetrical in its form, and more
in perfect keeping in its movements ?

" And again, look at yonder figures," he continued,
pointing to the * Incendio,' "he niight have shewn
more learning as to their muscular action, as to out-
line in precision, as to harmony of movements, hut
(and think me not guilty of mock-modesty) who but

I

it'

70 * COUNT ARENSBERO; OR,

SaflTaello could have given nd such expression in the
countenance, or thought so full of pathos, or relative
positions of such interest ?"

" And what say you of its neighbour, the Battle of
Ostia?" asked Agostino Chigi, in delight at the dis-
criminating and magnanimous praises which Michael
Angelo was heaping on the works of his young friend.

" That in the choice of his subject RafFaello has shewn
consummate tact. Who can look at yonder victory
over the Saracens without praying with His Holiness
in his invoking Heaven, or without a Crusader's spirit
of triumph over those groups of enemies of the Chris-
tian name 9^ they lie prostrate at the Pontiff's feet ?
Could the Emperor and the King of France but see it,
then His Holiness would gain his fondest wish for an
alliance against those profaners of the Holy Sepulchre."

So spoke a man to whom, though he bore no symbols
of dignity, ecclesiastical or civil, every one of that
circle was shewing the profoundest deference.

His outward presence was commanding; but this
was principally owing to a face expressive of capacious
intellect, surmounted by a brow so lofty and marked
by corrugations so many and so broad and deep, that
no beholder could help feeling sure that it had had to
yield to the ploughshare of severe and continuous
thought.

'* God be thanked that I was bom in the time of
Michael Angelo Buonarotti !" was that deep murmur of
the heart which, as we have already mentioned, broke
forth in the voice 6f Raffaello.

THE I>AT8 OF LUTREB. 71

'^ Ah ! say you ecs Signor Sanzio ?" asked the former
speaker ; and, as be asked^ a bright flush brought
crimson upon bis attenuated cheeks. '^ Do y(m^ in this
yom: hour of triumf^, think of the exile amid the quar-
ries of Sienna?"

Michael Angelo^ in spite of those genial feelings that^
for the moment^ were in fall play within him, gave the
question in a voice of bitterness.

The fact was this ; whether from a jealousy of the
fame of Pope Julias^ who had so especially adorned
his Pontificate by the genius of Michael Angelo ; or,
whether on the one hand, from personal distaste for
this architect and designer, and^ on the other hand,
from equally personal preferences for Baffaello, the
fact, sad thoagh it is, is true, that Leo X. did his
utmost to discountenance the one^ and, by giving him
a sphere in which no competition could shew itself, to
encourage and advance the other.

Michael Angelo was now in Rome, on a short respite
from those comparatively degrading labours of a marble-
quarrier to which Pope Leo ha;d consigned him. He
had been summoned, in courtesy, to this great feast ; a
feast in which, though not avowedly yet really, there
was to be a celebration of the genius of a younger and,
confessedly, transcendant artist; a great feast daring
which he, as he looked around him upon all its studied
and most skilful pageantry, could not fail to think,
though not ungenerously, upon the conditions of his
own present life as in contrast to those of his earlier
glory.

72 COUNT ARENSBEBO; OR,

He thought within him, and it was natural, how the
lofty powers of his spirit had been brave enough to
dare the impetuous and warlike Pope Julius — ^how
firmly and successfully he had made that fierce Pontiff
to succumb to him, to pray for and to obtain his ser-
vices—and how, upon the death of his chivalrous patron,
he was handed over ta another Pope, who, though far
more enlightened about the principles and interests of
art, was, nevertheless, far more blind — that is to say,
prejudiced or personal — ^in his discrimination about its
claims.

^' Ariosto, great poet as thou art, and bound though
the Holy Father is to thee, his Holiness smiles upon
thee, just as a half-dark cloud smiles upon our Apen-
nines : it has no vivid light, and thunder it has neither.
Santa Maria I would that the Holy Father would shew
to me his thunderbolt. I could deal with that.^

It was while Michael Angelo was thus communing
with himself that an event occurred which, in an in-
stant, changed the banquet into a scene of terror. A
sudden and appalling blast of whirlwind swept over the
hall, and then followed a succession of sounds, as of heavy
falling bodies. The alarm was general ; but, when it
was ascertained that the tempest had hurled down the
angel on the summit of St. Angelo, which, in its fall^
had crushed an infant Jesus in a church, and had
knocked the keys out of the hands of a statue of St.
Peter, even the least superstitious of the company
shuddered as at an evil omen, and most of the old
members of the Sacred College, together with the rest

^^mmmmtmK^mmtmmmm^^m^ammemmmmma^^

iM

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 73

of the Roman people, regarded it as a mark of Heavenlj
displeasure at the Pope's summary installation of so
many new Princes of the Church.

Thenceforth, every effort failed to re-awaken a smile
or repartee, or collected conversation; and the late
buoyant guests betrayed an uneasy anxiety to leave.

All eyes were directed towards the Pontiff, watching
wistfully for the rising of his Holiness, who, either
because he himself shared in the general panic, or from
a wish to dissipate it' by separating his guests, with-
drew soon after.

And then, for some hours. Yon Teutleben and Count
Arensberg were closeted in deep conference; at the
close of which, the latter took his farewell of his com-
panion, for it was resolved he should immediately repair
back to the Imperial Cabinet with the results of his
mission extraordinary.

74 cmnrr abeksberg; or.

CHAPTER VII.

Without entering on any minute statements respect-
ing the special embassy on which Count Arensberg had
been sent to Home, we would simply remark that,
about this period, Charles of Spain — shortly afterwards
the celebrated Charles V. of Germany — was employing,
every possible diplomatic intrigue at the Papal court,
in order to obtain the coronation of his grandfather,
the Emperor Maximilian, without the necessity of the
latter presenting himself, in person, before the Pontiff.
Ever since his elevation to the throne of the Ca&sars,
numerous political and even personal perils had pre-
vented Maximilian from being crowned at Rome, ac-
cording to the custom of his predecessors. Neverthe-
less, Pope Leo had inflexibly insisted on its observance,
and, at length, the Emperor had made arrangements to
obey.

Suddenly, it came to the ears of both Von Teutleben
and Arensberg, that Francis I. of France was not
merely counterplotting with the purpose of preventing
Maximilian from thus gaining the Papal recognition
of his Imperial authority, but was, further, making

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 75

movemetits to oppose Mm by force^ in case he should
GOiXitneiice bis progress from Vienna,

And it was with the object of giving the Emperor
the earliest and most trustworthy notice of these diffi-
culties^ that Arensberg left the Eternal city in such
haste, and at a moment which, considering his perplex-
ing uncertainties about the Lady Bianca and her father,
was so inopportune.

We will not stop, during the earlier stages of his
journey, save to remark the striking affinity that re-
vealed itself between the Count's desolation of heart,
and that shroud which overspread the campagna he
had to traverse. It was not because a pall overhung
visible nature in that vast plain, for, all around him,
there was a vegetation flourishing in an almost tropical
luxuriance ; but because there was the silence of the
grave, interrupted only by sad soughings of the wind.
He could hear no bird's carol, see no peasant's cottage
or its curling smoke, nor fix his eye upon any prominent
object by the way-side, save when he met a cross that
marked some past scene of murder.

After days of weary travel, Arensberg, with his
suite, was within a short league of Mantua. The
night had overtaken them, and their fatigue from an
unusually long day's march had rendered the senses
of the whole party insusceptible of pleasure in those
objects which, though closed all around with darkneps,
beamed forth with brightness, apparently unreflected.
The moon, the planets, the stars, unshorn of their rays
by any mistiness of attiiosphere, were radiating, as if

76 COUNT arensberg; or,

from their own fountiuns of light. On either side of
their pathway there were thousands of luminous glow-
worms, flashing hither and thither as if they were very
elves in a mystic dance or dances.

It was at such a moment, and amid such a spirit of
unobservant weariness, that a sharp and piercing human
cry roused and nerved both man and horse. The
young Count bounded in his saddle, and his faithful
war-steed, as suddenly, raised his ears erect. A like
excitement awoke every one. Dashing towards a
thicket, from which the cry came, Arensberg soon dis-
cerned a small party in the act of dragging to a tree,
by a cord which they had thrown around his neck, a
man whose grey hairs bespoke his venerable age, and
whose general aspect was so marked, that, though the
moment was very hurried, it burst upon his recol-
lection.

^* Spare me ! spare me 1 ^ shrieked the half-choked
creature. *^ Send me not unshriven to my God ! My
gold, take it, all of it I Spare ! Spare 1 "

By a sudden bound, Arensberg's horse leaped with
its rider into the midst of the assassins. But the
Count was not long unseconded, for his page and
body-servant were instantly at his side. With one
stroke of his good sword he severed the arm of
the ruffian who held the rope, and, almost as quickly,
the others fled, save those of them who had been level-
led by the heavy maces of the Count's followers.

Their intended victim had fallen to the ground in-
sensible ; partly, in consequence of his excitement, and

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 77

partly from a casual wound that he had received in
the tumult. Bending over him^ Arensberg, to his
infinite pain and surprise^ detected the features of
Cardinal Adrian^ that Piince of the Church, whom he
had known at Rome well, and who, so he had been
told, had secretly left the city.

Yet he considerately withheld all tokens of recog-
nition, and charging his followers to bear the insensible
body with great care, he led the way to the adjoining
city of Mantua.

Here, then, was a relief to his lately depressed and
inactive heart.

** Did my lord recognize the features ? " asked his
young page. Count Mellendorf, in a tone so subdued,
as proved that he aimed at secresy.

" Not a word — not a whisper — an thou lovest me,"
returned his master. ^^ See to it, Mellendorf, that none
of our fellows, save good old Essel, get even a glance
at him. Send Essel hither; and do thou, dear boy,
heed thee to have the features covered, before we
come within yonder fire-light. Thou canst do it
cleverly, I know."

The page caught his lord's full wishes in an in-
stant, and falling back, as if unconcernedly, he
soon came beside the faithful body-servant of the
Count.

" And so, thou forward malapert," said the old
equerry, ** thou canst not leave his lordship to him-
self, though thou knowest well his wish to be undis-
turbed. Take heed, my young Count: I am an old

I

78 COUNT ARENSBEfiG; OR,

ft

grey-beard, and have seen many a blithe page £eu11 of
his knighthood through his forwardness.*'

^^ Ha I ha I Father Easel," and he laughed cheerily —
'^I but thought mj lord's horse girths were getting
wrong, and that, in his abstractions, he would tumble
off."

" Confound thee, Mellendorf," replied the old soldier,
sharply. '' Hath some evil fiend of impudence be-
witched thee? I trow, now, that I shall lose my
guerdon for thy nurture. Thou hast never made ine
fear for it before."

" Go thyself, and inquire of his lordship. Father
Essel, and thou wilt then absolve me."

" Never, never ; the good knight would sooner fall
and break his corslet than have such interference."

The little band were listening, and could not sup-
press their merriment ; and the sagacious page seized
the moment, and grasping the hand of his old con-
fidant with a touch of meaning, said eagerly, but in a
low tone, " Go, go, dear Father Essel, go."

The masonic touch of the young Count quickened
the faculties of the watchful retainer; and with the
instinct that his movements were to be unsuspected^
he grumbled out, —

^^ But I will move nearer to his lordship. Mayhap
he will turn round and want me, and I shall be at
hand to serve him."

" There, there he goes on his fool's errand," gaily
cried the page. " If his grey 'Chairs get what my curls
did, we shall be quits."

J

THE IDAVB OF LOTirBK. 7'9

And the^oldiers round Mm grinned right amusinglj;
but^ young though he wfts^ hk high rank refuressed any
audible impertinence.

Essel^ with every faculty of astuteness alive, to keep
his a<;tions from being ei^n an abject of sunnise, gra-
dually drew near his master.

The knight, relying upon the adroitness of his page,
felt sure that Essel would soon strive unsuspcctedly
to approach him. His ears — ^which were on the alert —
quickly detected the sound of hoofs, and he dexterously
seized on a plan for intercourse with some one of his
attendants.

** What, ho I my knaves, are none of you near at
hand ? '*

" My lord 1 " cried the equerry, as he gained the side
of his young master^ and with a profound military
salute waited his commands.

" Hie thee, Essel, to yonder cross-roads, and seek
some marks for our guidance ! " Then rapidly, but
almost in a whisper : " return, Essel, instantly."

On the return of Essel, the knight felt at ease, as
to any suspicion of his having any covert purpose,
and, therefore, calmly questioned his aged servitor.

" Good Essel, art thou now awake to the ruse which
the young Lord Mellendorf hath played thee ?"

** In good sooth I am, my lord. But believe me these
precocious blossoms never yield good fruit."

"Tush, man!" replied the knight, "the blossoms
are not quite so immature as thou thinkest. They come
from the seed thou didst sow long ago in my own poor

80 COUNT ARENSBERO; OB^

head. Essel^" he continued, '* I wished to tell thee,
yonder poor wounded man must be seen by no one.
Dost thou catch my meaning?"

" More than, perhaps, my lord may think."
^^ So soon as we gain our hostelry, do thou serve as
his leech: thou art full able. And let none but the
young Lord of Mellendorf approach his chamber."

The old soldier, and without a word, made his
military salute, held in his steed, and was quickly over-
taken by the escort.

-^ . ■ »» - ■ » » ■ " .^ ..... .

THB I>AT8 OF LUTHEB. 81

CHAPTER VIII.

Upon the knight's arrival at the hostelry in Mantua,
both his page and his equerry succeeded in preventing
any recognition of the wounded Cardinal, and having
removed him to a separate room, the latter devoted him-
self to the dressing of his wounds.

He still remained insensible, and Arensberg, think-
ing that the less he appeared to interest himself on his
behalf, the fewer would be the inquiries about him,
postponed his visit to the sick couch until the
morning.

"And how is the sick man?" he asked his page,
when the latter came to him at an early hour, in order
to receive directions.

" But sadly ill at ease, my lord ; for though Essel has
sbewn good leech-craft, and has restored him to his
senses, the scene has been, for many an hour, only the
more horrible."

*^ Hprrible, say est thou ? Why, Mellendorf, his is
not the first blood thou hast seen shed. Has it sickened
thee?"

** Nay, nay, my lord ; I speak not of his wounds. I

TOL. I. <»

[

82 COUNT arensbebg; or,

have seen too many a skull cloven by your lordship's
battle-axe that I should turn pale at a few scratches."

Then, why talk of the horrible ?"

He was long, my lord, before he began to move ;
then soon his ravings made my blood curdle ; but when
he became more clearly conscious he fairly frightened

me."

€S

Nonsense, Mellendorf ! Thou must inure thyself
to groans and curses as well as to ghastly corses, an'
thou wilt find thyself at home in a battle-field."

'^ The Holy Mother help me, then I" returned the
youth. " But, my lord, when I passed the long, long
night on the plain of my first soldiership, though
there were hundreds groaning, cursing, shrieking,
there was nothing like the devil's screech of yon
chamber."

" Bless thee for that night's love, dear boy. Thou
wast but a child then, or I had knighted thee upon the
spot. Where had thy lord been now, if thou hadst
not bathed my forehead, and kept guard with thy little
dagger against the felon harpies that came to strip and
murder? But Mellendorf, tell me, have any of our
men been near that chamber? Have they seen or
heard ought, thinkest thou ?"

" Nought, my lord. Essel quickened their curiosity
for broad pasties and good wassail ; and I know them
to have slept sound enough,"

*^ Lead me to the chamber."

As the door opened, and before the knight could
discern anything within the room, he heard in a low

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 83

heart-breaking voice, ** Vengeance is mine, I will
repay, saith the Lord."

No sooner had he crossed the threshold than the
anxious glaring eye of the sick man caught his figure,
and lighting on his countenance, he half shrieked, and
turning on his side towards the wall, buried his face
beneath the bed-clothes.

*^ Hold 1 hold I Count Arensberg," he groaned out.
^* Come not hither to add thy curse and scorn to my
woe and shame of conscience."

'* Leave us," said the knight, looking upon his page
and equerry; but he had need to give a sterner
order, ere his faithful followers could be made to quit
him.

There was a long and cruel pause, before he could
break his silence. Meanwhile, sighs on sighs, each
growing deeper than the other, and convulsive sobbings,
and muttered cries, fell in melancholy, muffled sounds
upon his ear.

"Be not so disturbed at my approach, my Lord
Cardinal," said the knight, gently. " Methinks that
yesternight might prove my readiness to serve your
Eminence."

But for a while there was no answer. Only, sundry
efforts of the sufferer, to repress his feelings, made the
Count wait patiently.

" Leave me, leave me," the Cardinal at length mur-
mured, " but do not brand me with ingratitude for my
reserved life. Life ! life 1" he continued, " if I may call
that a boon."

84 GOUKT ABENSBEBO; OB,

'* Then I will leave, but not desert your Eminence,"
replied Arensberg. " It may be that some few hours
will bring composure, and you can then convey to me
your wishes. Pardon me, my lord, that I have secured
no better leech than my poor body-servant. It was
because I deemed it safer. Shall I find another and
more skilled?"

"Oh I never, nevdtl" earnestly implored the Car-
dinal. " You, Lord Count, will surely not betray me.
And yet — yet," and he paused thinking for a moment,
" if I could but see the Canon Antonio of the Church
of Santa Maddalena 1"

** It shall be done, your Eminence," and the knight
proceeded to retire.

In making his last earnest entreaties, the fallen
ecclesiastic had suddenly raised himself, and his face
being exposed, the Count started at the still empurpled
countenance, swollen from the half-strangulation he
had overnight undergone. And this, added to the
terrified look and the suppliant tone, told terribly on
the observer.

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 86

CHAPTER IX-

Upon his entering Mantua^ Arensberg soon learned
that the eelebrated soldier, Francesco Maria^ had only
a few days before, arrived within its walls as an exile.

During his recent residence at Rome, the Count,
from his diplomatic position, had become familiar with
the details of the PontifPs conflict with the Duke
d'Urbino ; and, loyal though he was to the Roman See,
his 6est feelings had been shocked at finding how Pope
Leo had foregone all the claims of gratitude, and all
laws of right political, in his assault upon the do^
minions of one who was, formerly, his own host and
protector and had remained faithful to him as his
spiritual Suzerain.

Francesco Maria Delia Rovero, fourth Duke of
Urbino, was the nephew of Pope Julius II., the pre*
decessor of Leo X. When the clouds of ill-fortune
broke upon the House of Medici, its scattered members,
Griovanni, the future Pcwatiff, among others, bad found
a welcome and a graceful home at Urbino. Further, to
the Duke's influence oyer the conclave of the Cardinal
electors^ Leo had partly owed the Tiiaura.

86 COUNT ABEN8BEB6; OB^

Young as he was, not more than in his twenty-
seventh year, he had made his illustrious name still
more illustrious for his personal deeds in arms, for his
scientific tactics as a general on the field of battle, for
the devotion of his soldiership to the See of Kome, and
more than all, for his cultivation and patronage of the
arts.

Arensberg knew all this, and still more. He knew
that His Holiness, under the influence of family ambi-
tion, had resolved upon the seizure of the throne and
territories of his faithful friend and soldier; that for
this he had availed himself of every plot and counterplot
for which the angry, or revengeful, or sensual passions
of those around him furnished the materials. And, we
™ay say, that, on the Count's now hearing of the ruin
of the Prince, as the result of such policy, and on his
finding that he was in the very same city with the
illustrious exile, his ingenuous instincts prompted him
to go and tender his respectful sympathy.

He was perfectly alive to the political delicacy that
was involved in his taking such a step; for he bore
grave responsibilities, as the representative of the
Csesar. All these responsibilities and their condi-
tions he pondered over wisely, comparatively young
though he was ; at length, seeing that both his own
government and also that of France were maintaining,
for the time, an apparent neutrality, he gave way to
his own personal impulses, and, while awaiting the
interview which Cardinal Adrian had besought with his
friend, went to seek the residence of the Duke d'Urbino.

THE DATB OF LUTHEB. 8?

On his being ushered into the presence of the dis-
inherited prince, he found faim absorbed, not in de-
qranding grief, but in the contents of rich folios that
lay outspread before him, whilst several of his attend-
ants were busied in opening immense packages, and
drawing out irom them numerous manuscripts upon
whose rare value they were descanting with admi-
ration.

The fact was this : the Duke d'Urbino, on surrender-
ing lus states to the Pontilf, among other conditions,
had stipulated especially for leave to remove the valu-
able library of MSS. that bad descended to him from
the Duke Federiga It had but just reached him in
his retirement, and, eager both to divert his mind from
the sad thoughts of his humiliation, as also to gratify
his thirst for literature, lie was now plunging himself
into its sacred fountains.

To his great joy, the first MS. that had been drawn
oat, was that of his favourite Folybius.

As Count Arensbeig entered, the Duke, in a mo-
ment of admiration at what he was reading, was mut-
tering, though distinctly enough to be comprehended
by Girolamo Genga, one of the fiiithful followers
who still adhered to him, and who, in his military
school, had giuned particular distinction, —

*' ' Haudquaquam spemendus auctor,' indeed I* Thou
good Livy thonghtest sa Sooth to say, it was wise

• " A writer by no meaas lo be despised." Such was Liyy's
jtttgeneroaaly parsimonious praise of the great military Greek
Historiau, from wboot, to so great an extent, be plagiarized.

88 COUNT ABBNSBER6; OR,

of thee thus to depreciate, by cold praise, the wares of
a man whom thou wast about to rob."

'^ A writer by no means to be despised," the Duke
murmured again, as he unrolled the parchment, and
continued reading on.

" The Count Arensberg, the Imperial Envoy to the
court of Borne, is here, seeking an audience of your
Highness," interrupted Girolamo Genga.

"Ah!" exclaimed the Duke. "Ah Envoy from
Vienna?" and he hurriedly thrust the scroll aside, and
re-ossumed his princely attitude.

With a manner and address that were mild and
pleasing, yet mingled with an expression of bitter
humour, he welcomed the young Count.

" Our usher tells us you are arrived from the CiBsar.
Can it be to congratulate us on our late successes, and
to proffer an alliance ?"

" Not so," returned the knight. " I am the rather
on my road to my Koyal Master, and but approaidi
your Highness from respect, journeying as I am
through this good city."

"Respect? respect ?** answered the Duke sharply,
and his councillors around him began to tremble at
that choleric temper which had so often cost him
dearly. "Respect? now that the foul trickery of
Pope Leo hath robbed me of my heritage, and banished
me hither as a fugitive ? Sir Count, tell your master
from ourselves, that had he but withheld his interf^
rence merely^ I might now have been a friend worth
seeking for."

i'.eaHB^WHBHiV^iOTVn^«^nHM«H^P«i«OT^PPM^^^i^^^^a^W9^"""^"i^^«"""«IMi^^l«V"i"V^"*i«li^«"^

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 89

The position in which Arensberg found himself was
as unexpected as it was delicate^ and he strove with
ingenuous dignity to persuade the Prince that he was
personally ignorant of the question, and that, whether
or no, it was far above his province to entertain it.

The Duke d'Urbino, ever pas^onate, yet ever pla-
cable, was quickly soothed, — yet not so much so, but
that he returned again and again to the grievances from
which he was suffering so keenly.

*^ But though," said he — *^ though you bear, my Lord
Count, no official authority in our beggar court, your
courtesy will not decline to tell the Caesar, and from
me, that the Priest hath smitten the soldier, but it
hath been by his stratagems, and perjuries, and bribes.
Your Emperor is a layman, though, sooth to say, he
must be belied by fame if he be fond of the battle-
field ; yet he will feel for a warrior's evil chances."

This was an allusion the more unfortunate, as it was
well founded.

The Emperor Maximilian's military character was a
strong contrast to that of his successor — his grandson
Charles' V. And it was chiefly owing to his un-
warlike hesitations that the Duke attributed his own
discomfiture.

To all this Arensberg was as keenly alive as the
Prince could be, nevertheless he concealed his feeling.

"The Emperor i« my master, may it please your
Highness, and I will gage my glove to any one, be
he prince or noble vassal, who would wrong his
honour."

90 COUNT ABEN8BEB6; OB,

This bold and loyal answer, instead of irritating^
pleased the Duke.

" You say well and nobly, and I crave your pardon.
It ill became us to give the reins to feeling. And now
a truce to words that might be imbefitting to us both.
TeU me, my Lord Count, can we, in our poor for-
tunes, aid any of your wishes ? "

** Wishes, I have none, your Highness ; I but came
hither to shew reverence to a great prince and soldier
in misfortune."

" You have but lately come from Rome, I hear ? "
inquired the Prince, in a tone that shewed how grate-
fully the young knight's allusion to his soldiership had
fallen upon his bruised spirit. " Then, as your lord-
ship has no wishes for me to gratify, pray meet you
mine. Was the conspiracy of the Cardinal Petrucci
against his Holiness over when you left?"

** It was over, so far as the fates of his Holiness and
the conspirators were concerned," gravely replied the
Count.

*^ All that we know," returned the Duke. " The
Holy Father is safe once more — and for a time," he
added, with significance. " I would that my ancient
friend could place more faith in the honour of the
corslet than the cassock I "

^^ I doubt me much if his Holiness hath any faith
whatsoever in the corslet," answered Arensberg, sorrow-
fully. I have grave fears: before I left the city, even
his past friend and soldier, the Marquis della Scala,
bad fallen under suspicion."

THE DATB OF LUTHER. 91

** Santa Maria ! and for what ? " exclaimed the Dake>
starting from his seat^ and speaking with a vehemence
unusual even for him.

** The why and the wherefore, no efforts of mine
could ascertain. But . . . . "

" But what ? " the Prince eagerly interrupted.

" But, may it please your Highness," resumed
Arensberg, " sinister rumours were being spread about
that the brave Marchese was your own stern foe on
the field of battle, and your fast friend within the
closet."

" I see it all — yes, all," exclaimed the Duke, with a
fresh burst of passion.

Then there followed several painful moments, during
which it was evident that the Prince was struggling
to keep down a rage, that in spite of all his efforts
would seek vent.

** Though depressed, it recoils — aye, and it shall
recoil," were the only words which caught the ear , of
Arensberg, and which the Duke was repeating oft and
again. They were the words of his own device upon
his shield.

Is was long, however, before he turned suddenly
to the Count, and added, in a much calmer tone, —

** Your lordship will, we are sure, pardon us, that
such news — be they rumoiurs merely — should have
delayed our proffers of hearty welcome to our poor
Ciourt."

'' I dare make no stay, may it please your Highness,
save that a few hours' rest was indispensable for our

92 COUNT AKENSBERO; OB^

horses. I ought to have been leagues far away," re-
turned the Count, with reverence.

" Adieu, then," replied the Prince, " Mayhap, my
good young lord, we may meet again ; but," he added,
with a gracious smile, " let it not be to cross lances !"

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 93

CHAPTER X.

During the visit of Count Arensberg to .the Duke
of Urbino his equerry had, by his directions, sought for
the Canon Antonio, and brought him to the chamber
of the Cardinal Adrian. He had merely summoned
him as at the request of a sick man, so that, on his
entering, the Priest was wholly unsu0picious of the
scene that awaited him.

The page was found seated beside the couch; but
immediately upon the appearance of the ecclesiastic, he,
from delicacy, left the room.

We may here state, that the Canon Antonio had
owed the whole of his ecclesiastical preferment to the
Cardinal. Indeed, it was very generally surmised that
he bore to him the near relation of a son, and that he
himself was aware of the relationship. On the Car-
dinal's occasional visits to his see in England — (he
was Bishop of the sees of Hereford and of Bath and
Wells) — Antonio had invariably accompanied him in
the character of secretary, and this made him privy to
most of his Eminence's thoughts and purposes. He
had^ but some few days before, learned the frightful

94 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OR,

peril into which the Cardinal had fallen ; had felt but
partially relieved on hearing that his life had been
spared, though at the cost of his wealth and dignities ;
and he was, up to thaT moment, in a state of feverish
anxiety for news as to his movements and intentions.

In order to enter into the spirit of the interview
which we are about to witness, it is necessary for us to
recollect that Cardinal Adrian's crime against the life
of the Pope was that of connivance, not of active com-
plicity; that, notwithstanding his appalling guilt, its
degree was far below that which he would have in-
curred if he had been the originator or forward advo-
cate of the conspiracy ; that he had been beguiled into
its partnership by a number of under-working feelings
of which he was almost unconscious, instead of being
urged by deliberate hatred and revenge ; and that thus
the aspect of his mind was one of a sinful weakness
that still left him sensitive to holy remonstrant feelings,
instead of one of hard, harsh, shameless ruffianism.

But so much cannot be said for the Canon Antonio.
Favoured though he had been with the best facilities
for cultivating humanizing learning (for his putative
father was one of the most accomplished of the scholars
of his day), he had never lent himself to its high
pursuits. The indiscriminate fondness of the Cardinal
had allowed his passions to luxuriate — ^had supplied him
with means for their indulgence —had never rebuked
them even when developed in their darkest colours;
and so he had gone through a course of guilty discipline
that made sin a matter of indifference, and allowed him

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 95

to throw 8Com upon all sorrows of remorse. All his
regrets were for the consequences of evil doing, and
for them solely.

This will help us to appreciate the different attitudes
which the Cardinal and Antonio presented at this
meeting.

Selfish and unfeeling though the latter had become,
he could not stand unmoved as he scanned the con-
Yulsive features of the former and listened to his groans.

The CardinaFs eyes remained closed, yet he re-
cognized the presence of Antonio from his well-known
footsteps.

'^Antonio! Antonio! art thou here?'' he asked
faintly.

" I am here, your Eminence. But, by the Holy
Mother, what can have befallen you, that I find you
wounded and as if heart broken?"

** Treachery and sin," he groaned forth in answer.

'* And who has dared the treason against one of the
noblest Princes of the Church ?" asked Antonio, eagerly.
" But tell me, tell me, your Eminence ; and our chapter
will instantly avenge you."

Only another and a deeper groan followed.

At length he faintly murmured, —

" Villain servants, Antonio ! and all for the sake of
the poor purse left to their poorer master."

Antonio ground his teeth ; but the Cardinal con-
tinued, —

*' Hast thou heard nought about me, Antonio ?
nought of my crime — my shame — my ruin ? "

1

96 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

** Nought, your Eminence, but what by your own
great powers you may quickly obviate."

"Nought? Nought?" cried the sufferer, and he
seemed stung into energy, as he raised himself from his
pillow. " Nought ? Can any talents — any triumphs —
cleanse this foul bosom ? Oh I my God, my God !"

And he sank back again into still more prostrate
anguish.

" My Lord hath been only working for the Church's
weal, and our Holy Mother will bless him even though
unsuccessful."

** Antonio I" returned the Cardinal sternly, " in other
days, and when buoyant with health and power, I
might have lent my ear to such accursed pleadings;
but now — ^now .... Leave me, if thou wilt only
minister a false and captious logic to a bleeding
heart"

" Nay, your Eminence. Antonio is not so bad as
that. Only tell me now of your present peril, and in
after days let us dispute if necessary."

"Antonio!" returned the Cardinal. "Get me, at
any cost, across the Alps: then, and only then, may
I dare believe I am in safety. And miserable as thou
seest me, I would yet live — ^live for holy penance. Jesu
Maria I spare me."

" And can any spot beyond the Alps be safer than
our Monastery?" asked the Canon. " Our brothers,
i^ome of them, know your Eminence, and there you
shall find quiet, comfort, and all appliances of devotion.
Leave to me to remove you thither."

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 97

Go thither I never, never, good Antonio. Even
was it not that the slot-hounds of revenge are upon my
footsteps, or that this my sad accident has torn from
me all disguise, and so made every second to be one
of extreme peril, I would never desecrate thy holy
house. Let me be homeless — let me be a poor,
wretched, yet praying anchorite ; only give me a cell
that shall be secure."

^* Hath any one, then, recognised the person of your
Eminence?" inquired the startled Antonio, "for you
say your disguise has been torn off of you ; and before
whom?"

** Before Aim, dear Antonio, to whom I owe that I
am not now a corse strangled and hung up to be the
prey of ravens," replied the Cardinal, shudderingly.

"And he is— who?"

" Demand not so fiercely, brother," replied the Car-
dinal. " He wears no cassock, else," he added with
bitterness, "I might misdoubt him. Thou hast not
forgotten Count Arensberg of Saxony, hast thou?
Dost thou still bear him malice ?"

** Can your Eminence say what has brought him
hither?" asked the Canon, with a sudden calmness,
thus waiving all answer to Adrian's question.

^' Of that I know nothing," said the latter. " All I
know of him is, that he has been for months at E>ome,
as an envoy from the Emperor, and the chances are
that he is now returning to his Imperial master."

*^Did your Eminence see ought of him?" asked
Antonio, quietly.

VOL. I. H

98 COUNT ABENSBEBG; OB^

''Only at the assemblies of the Marchese della
Scala."

*' And was he his friend ?"

" So I should gather^ for they were most cordially
familiar with each other. But tire me no more with
questions^ good Antonio. I am faint. Hist I there
must be some one coming."

*' Be at ease, your Eminence : I all but see your path
across the Alps, and how I can bear you company/'
quickly whispered the Canon, as steps towards the door
of the sick-chamber became more audible.

The Priest, as he wended his way back to his monas-
tery, bore with him a heart in terrible conflict with
itself. It held within it strong natural love towards
one whom he had reason to believe was his parent.
It had an earnest purpose to protect him against his
many and very threatening dangers. It felt a mo-
mentary gratefulness to the young soldier who had so
opportunely and gallantly interfered to save the Car-
dinal. Yet, nevertheless, it contained within it the
angriest broodings over a wrong which he attributed to
Arensberg as its author; and, though his discerning
intellect shewed him that, without the Count's assist-
ance, the escape of the Cardinal would be most uncer-
tain, it was only by a compromise with his malice that
he, at last, determined upon availing himself of the aid
of Arensberg.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 99

CHAPTER XL

We must now pass over some few weeks, during which
Arensberg completed his journey to Vienna, had au-
dience with the Emperor Maximilian, and obtained
unlimited leave to repair to his family and estates in
Saxony.

But we must not omit to state, that, in consequence
of their interview, described in the last chapter, both
the Cardinal Adrian and the Canon Antonio had
sought permission to join his escort, and, in the guise
of ordinary ecclesiastics, to accompany him to Germany.
The Count was so deeply touched by the sorrows of
the Cardinal, that, although as deeply disgusted at the
levity and license of the Canon, he allowed them to
continue near his person, even after they had passed
the frontier ; and, moreover, to accompany him to his
own castle.

So wisely had his page and equerry concealed
the incognito of the Cardinal, that not one of their
lord's attendants saw in him ought but that of an
ecclesiastic, with whom their master had been ac-
quainted, and whom he had rescued so opportunely.

100 COUNT arbnsbebg; or.

As to the Canon, he lent himself to every species of
stratagem, in order to amuse the soldiery and ingra-
tiate himself among them, and thus lull any suspicions
that might chance arise. And he succeeded.

It was a thing so usual in those days, for a noble of
Arensberg's high rank and fortune to have about his
person men of the church and men of learning that
when, thus accompanied, he entered his own castle,
neither his mother nor his brother wondered, but
readily gave them a welcome suited to their professed
condition.

Lastly, for the guidance of our readers in the details
that will follow, we would add, that the Count had
volunteered his honour as a knight, and had pledged,
likewise, for his page and equerry, that not one — ^not
the slightest — ^hint should ever be conveyed, even to
those the nearest and the dearest to them, of the sacred
rank of the Cardinal. He, therefore, occupied the
easy and honoured post of a man of exalted learning ;
while it was simply avowed that he had, from personal
feelings, retired from Rome, retaining near him one
who had been his confessor.

It was at a late hour of a gloomy autumnal day,
that the good Essel blew his horn in summons to
the warder to lower the drawbridge of the Count's
castle ; and but a few moments passed before the most
gladsome welcome was given to their young lord by its
inmates. The Dowager Countess had been apprized
by a messenger of her son's approach ; and while she
could scarcely so far preserve her matronly dignity

THE DATS OP LUTHEB. 101

as to keep within the hall, her younger son, the Graf
Rupert, had uncontrollably burst forth, and, long be-
fore the arrival of his brother, had ordered the port-
cullis to be rais.ed, and had taken his stand in the front
of the gateway.

To pass over the family greetings that followed — the
feelings of the Count may be somewhat, though in-
adequately, judged, on our knowing that he now for
the first time entered the castle of his ancestors as its
master, his father having died during the son's absence
at Kome.

Those feelings became stiU more painful when, at
the evening meal, he took the chair in which, when he
was there last, he had seen his sire ; and, in struggling
manfully to conceal them, he fixed his gaze upon the
old familiar portraits of the warriors and statesmen of
his house. They seemed to be looking down upon him
as their representative, and calling him, by deeds of
enterprise, and wisdom, and virtue, to prove that he
was their descendant.

^' Thou must be fatigued, my Arensberg," said his
lady -mother, gently striving to draw him off from
thoughts which she divined were passing in his bosom,
and which the presence of strangers made it desirable
for him to postpone.

^' Not fatigued, my mother, but overwrought," he
answered, in a tone audible only to herself.

And then, looking towards his brother, and with the
effort to do his full duties as a host, he said gaily, —
Bupert, thou shalt preside here this evening, and

if

102 COUNT ABENSBEBO; OB^

thou wilt^ I know^ take good heed that my learned
friend and his companion fare them well. I trow me,
that even thou wouldst feel fatigued if thou hadst
ridden as they have done to-day. But tell me, Rupert,
where is Dr. Melancthon, of whom I have heard so
much ? and where is Nina, who used to be the first to
greet me, even before thyself?"

" They must have both missed thee, my son," replied
the Countess. ** Thy messenger had scarcely uttered
one syllable, ere the gentle, grateful orphan asked my
permission to mount her palfrey to go and meet thee ;
and your most learned brother Rupert — to get a holiday,
methinks — ^persuaded Dr. Melancthon to escort her."

"Nay, nay, my mother," returned Rupert, "I dared
not go myself, for I held the post of guardian until
Arensberg arrived ; yet, if I have lost a lesson, I will
learn two to-morrow."

** Thanks, dear Rupert," said Arensberg. ** I love
leamii^, but I love a soldier's duty better. And as to
learning, indeed," he continued, bowing with great
respect towards the venerable Italian (who, together
with the Canon, was seated at the table), — ** as to learn-
ing, indeed, we ^shall want for nothing, even should Dr.
Melancthon leave us."

The answer which the Cardinal was preparing was
suddenly interrupted ; for the great valves of the hall-
door opened, and there entered the very two about
whose absence the little party had been conversing.

The young lady, as far as her dress might indicate,
was of a grade subordinate to that of the mistress of

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 103

the noble house ; and the way in which she returned
the attention of the servants seemed to say the same.
For, although she shewed nothing of familiarity, as
if either to propitiate or bribe for future homage,^ her
mien and attitude wanted that graceful and uncon-
scious ease with which the high-born accept the offices
of dependents. All this, however, detracted but little
from the impression she produced. It might be that
she sprung from the bourgeoisie of her country, and that
her features awakened no surprise at their exceeding
beauty ; but even a dull eye would have been caught
by her countenance, so expressive was it of grave
thought and purpose, albeit relieved of any unfeminine
severity. At this moment her face, the skin of which
was transparently pure, was suffiised with flushes,
partly owing to a rapid ride from which she had just
returned, but chiefly to her coming within sight of
Arensberg.

Then there accompanied — somewhat followed — her, a
young-looking man, whose years could not have reached
the number of twenty-three at most. From his dress,
it was doubtftd whether he was an ecclesiastic or a
civilian. It was plain that he was neither priest nor
soldier; the debate was whether he was an abbe or
an advocate. He was habited in a long loose surcoat,
fringed with sables, and carried in his hand the three-
cornered cap which, at that period, was peculiar to
the learned professors. His features were moulded
with singular delicacy, and approached nearer to the
Grecian than the German outline. His late exercise

104 COUNT ABENSBEB6; OR,

had warmed him, but without relieying his attenuated
face of a pallor that betrayed great physical weak-
ness.

Such was the appearance of Philip Melancthon, of
whom^ as he will appear often and in much, prominence
before our readers, we would offer a few remarks.

We have mentioned already that he could scarcely
have attained the age of twenty-three. Nevertheless,
his fame for knowledge in universal, especially in
Greek, literature was European. Even so early as in
his thirteenth year, his university orations had gained
him such celebrity, that Bishop Latimer^ on taking his
degree of Bachelor in Divinity, thought it fit, in his
then zeal for the papal faith, to answer them. After
six years of eminent success at Tubingen, he was ap-
pointed by the Elector Frederick the Wise to the
Greek chair at Wittemberg. At this period in our
tale, he was seeking a brief recreation from his labours,
by a visit at Castle Arensberg.

It was curious to watch the faces of both the Car-
dinal and the Canon, as they scanned the countenance
of the young Melancthon when, after his introduction
to the Count, he took a seat opposite to them at
the table. The mind of the Cardinal was, as we may
have gathered from former chapters, so broken down
by self-reproach, and so unalive to the plays of social
amusement, that, whilst the Canon had been ever on
the watch for the least symptom of the ludicrous,
he had hitherto remained in silent passiveness.

^*You have had a hard chance ride, sir," said

mm

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 105

Antonio^ thus aiming to bring his new fellow-guest
into conyersation.

" Yes, indeed," returned Melancthon, " but it has
been refreshing.

*', Doubtless," replied the Canon, with a leer, *^I
have never known a ride otherwise, in such fair com-
pany."

The meek, gentle scholar remained silent, but there
spread over his benign face a cloud such as that which
may be often seen, suddenly darkening the soothing,
calm look of a retired valley.

^^ How is it possible, fair Nina," asked Arensberg,
whose distance from the Canon and Melancthon had
prevented him from hearing them, — " how is it possible
you should have missed us?"

We rode through Wittemberg," she answered,

and my maiden has already told me that your lord-
ship took the upper road. I thought you would be
sure to pass through the town, which you have so
much loved, and where you have so many friends."

"Oh, I purposely avoided it to-day. The crowd
might have delayed me with its kindness."

** Sooth to say, my lord, much as they love you,
you would have found them bent on something else."

" Some low burgher quarrel, or some college fight, I
gather," said the Countess.

" No ! Oh, no !" answered Nina, " Such a crowd,
and yet so peaceful, saw I never."

"Then the good Elector must have shewn him-
self."

ft

€t

106 COUKT ABENSBER6; OB,

'* Not that either, may it please yonr ladyship. I
own I was at first alarmed, and wished myself far
away; but the kind Dr. Mekncthon would stop and
make inquiries."

** May I ask you the result of those inquiries ?" said
Arensberg, addressing himself to the young scholar^
whose countenance he saw disturbed.

" I found, my lord, that our great Dr. Luther had
been taking some bold steps against Indulgences, and
had just affixed some theses on the gate of All Saints."
And could merely that excite the entire town?"
He had been preaching one of his most stirring
sermons, and that alone would have called all the town
together."

*^ Luther? Dr. Luther? That is the name of
which we heard such rumours when we were at
Rome?"

^^ The same, my lord; and, if I mistake not, he is
a professor in the university near here. It was said
that he had often made the Holy Father most
uneasy."

" A low, mischievoi}s, foul-mouthed, foul-living man^
by all accounts," exclaimed the Canon.

^^ I am sure you will soon form a difierent estimate
of him. Reverend Father, should you come to know
him," meekly returned Melancthon. ** Low he cannot
be called, for the great Erasmus pronounces him one
of the most learned of our day ; mischievous he is not,
except in his disturbance of the immoral ; foul-mouthed
they may call him, who have to tremble at his in-

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 107

dignant challenges; and as as to foul-livings we who
know him know the opposite."

** We will go and hear him, and perchance thou wilt
maintain against his theses," said the Cardinal, address-
ing the Canon.

" Hear him, I wiU with pleasure ; but to contest his
dogmas would be beneath mcj" was the answer.

108 COUNT ABENSBEBG; OR,

CHAPTER XII.

On the following Sunday, the Count — accompanying
his mother, and attended by their retinue — ^heard mass
at the Church of All Saints, Wittemberg. They had
been urged to worship there by Nina; and, already,
Melancthon — by his mildness, and refinement, and
learning — had so won the confidence and respect of
the young knight, that the latter became anxious to
see for himself the man in whose praise the former had
spoken with such earnestness. The Cardinal Adrian
— whose bruised spirit now sought for every chance
of hope in things to which, in former days, he had
been so indifferent — repaired thither likewise, but
alone. He had been so often disturbed and grieved
by the Canon's dangerous flippancy, that he shunned, as
far as possible, all his companionship, especiafly at this
moment, when he was desirous of having a mind
unruffled in the presence of the Almighty.

The Church of All Saints was so very inferior —
both in its architecture and its internal adornments —
to those Italian temples which Arensberg had^ of late,
been accustomed to frequent, that he felt chagrined.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 109

There were no long aisles, no sculptured columns, no
chapelries surmoxmted by rich pictures, no light mel-
lowed by painted windows, no crowds of priests and
acolytes. But there soon stole over, his consciousness
a solemnity that more than compensated for their
absence. Often while he was at Rome, and was bend-
ing before the high altar of St. Peter's, his earnest
German soul had been shocked at the irreverence and
haste he was called to witness. On his first arrival at
the Papal Seat, he had repelled with indignation the
scandals that were bruited as to the scepticism of the
Italian Priesthood. When it was told him that some
of them had been known so to profane the Holy
Sacraments as jeeringly to address the elements with —
" Bread thou art, and bread thou wilt remain ; and
wine thou art, and wine thou wilt remain," he had
rebuked his informant as a slanderer. Yet, after a
few visits to the churches, the indecent hurry of its
ministers so injured his devotions, that he suspected
the honesty of their own. But now when, in deep
sonorous tones, and with a countenance blent with awe
and emotion, the officiating Priest celebrated what he
hitherto believed to be a miraculous transmutation,
Arensberg felt no want of external magnificence, for
he seemed to breathe an atmosphere of spirit and of
Kfe.

The mass was ended, and, on the Priest's descend-
ing the steps of the altar, Arensberg was able more
attentively to scrutinize his features. Observer of
the hmnan face, as the science of diplomacy had

110 COUNT ABEK8BEBG; OB,

already made him^ he gathered much of the compara-
tively young ecclesiastic's character^ as he scanned a
£ftce now thin and spare, the muscles of which,
however, shewed that it had once been full ; as he
scanned that face — still youthful — with a black,
piercing, and fiery eye, surmounting a sunken cheek ;
as he scanned his mien — sad and dejected, yet replete
with solemn eamestness-^bespeaMng a mind in conflict,
and yet detemihied to maintain and triumph in that
conflict.

Such was the appearance of Martin Luther, for he

it was who had just celebrated mass, and was now
advancing to the pulpit.

Then came the sermon. In place of the frivolous
fables, semi-immoral jokes, fanfaronades, at which, in
other churches, Arensberg had been as often disgusted
as he had been amused ; in place of rhapsodies and
lying miracles, at which he and his companions had
so often laughed — he heard nought but what was grave
and severe in reasoning, heart-touching in pathos, and
authentic in historic statement.

Several times did he unconsciously rise from his
seat, so great was his interest, as he listened to the
preacher. True, his language was often homely, and
a severe taste might have recoiled at the illustrations
drawn from common and low life. Many a passage
was pervaded by a vein of slight vulgarity as well as
drollery. But on the other hand, no hearer, fastidious
howsoever, could withstand . his massive eloquence,
sustained as it was by the important aids of an action

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. Ill

that was ever appropriate^ and an earnestness whose
sincerity was transparent.

Some few of those passages that chiefly arrested
Arensberg's attention may be mentioned : —

'* Great is the strength of the Divine Word. In
the Epistle to the Hebrews, it is called * a two-edged
sword.' But we have neglected and contemned the
pure and clear Word, and have drunk not of the fresh
and cool spring ; we are gone from the clear fountain
to the foul puddle, and drunk its filthy water ; that is,
we have sedulously read old writers and teachers, who
went about with speculative reasonings, like the monks
and friars."

^^ Oh ! how great and glorious a thing it is to have
before us the Word of God! With that we may at
all times feel joyous and secure ; we need never be in
want of consolation, for we see before us, in all its
brightness, the pure and right way. He who loses
sight of the Word of God, falls into despair ; the voice
of Heaven no longer sustains him ; he follows only the
disorderly tendency of his heart, and of a world of
vanity, which lead him on to his destruction."

" The great men and the doctors imderstand not
the Word of God ; but it is revealed to the humble
and to children, as is testified by the Saviour in the
Gospel according to St. Matthew: — *0 Father, Lord
of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things
from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them

wmmmm

»^

112 COUNT abensberg; or^

unto babes.' Gregory says, well and rightly, that the
Holy Scripture is a stream of running water, where
alike the elephant may swim, and the lamb walk with-
out losing his feet."

Then there followed some other words, the connec-
tion between which and those that we have just
adduced, it was unpossible for Count Arensberg to
determine. But Martin Luther's audience, in the
general, could detect it, the most of them being well
apprized of the struggle to which he had been com-
mitted very recently.

" When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ says,
* Repent 1 ' he means that the whole life of his followers
on earth shall be a constant and continual repentance."

" This word cannot be understood of the sacrament
of penance (that is to say, of confession and satisfaction)
as it is administered by the priest."

*^ The Pope cannot remit any condemnation ; but
only declare and confirm the remission that God
has himself made of it."

^^ They preach devices of human folly, who assert,
that the moment the money sounds at the bottom of
the strong box, the soul flies away out of purgatory."

** Those who think themselves sure of salvation with
their indulgences will go to the Devil with those who
taught them so."

" Why does not the Pope, in his very holy character,
clear out purgatory at once, wherein so many souls
are suffering ? This would be bestowing his power far

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 113

more worthily than for him to deliver souls for money
(money so gained brings calamity with it); and for
what purpose, moreover ? For a building ! "

Such were a few of those burning words to which
Arensberg was listening. His feelings, it is true,
were somewhat different from those of most others
that were around him; and to his astonishment he
found that, whilst his own mind was thrown into a
ferment of admiration and anger — of acquiescence and
doubt — ^the general audience were giving signs, not to
be mistaken, of the most entire and hearty sympathy
with the preacher.

And what seemed to him the strangest of all was this :
he could perceive that his own revered and thought-
ful mother gave her assent. So too did the changing
features of his old playmate, Nina. Now her gentle ap-
proving smile, when Doctor Martin indulged in ridi-
cule ; anon her cheek mantled with virgin indignation,
when he spoke of the immoraUties of the clergy ; anon,
again, her tears, when he dwelt upon the all-suflSicient
sufferings of our Lord ; all these equally surprised
him. For, before he left for Italy, both his mother
and the young orphan had often ^hamed away his
irreverent mirth by their own grave and soul-absorbed
devotion.

Then, moreover, the conduct of the congregation in
general was inexpUcable to him- How often, in former
days, had he witnessed in this same church hurried for-
mal prayers, and self-crossings during Ma^s, the wor-
shippers^ even while in the very act of devotion, ex-

VOL, I. I

114 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OB5

changing the most worldly glances^ and, as soon as
their prayers were over, moYing off with jokes and
thoughtlessness ! And how often had he joined in the
grinning deUght of those who had remained to listen
to the bald absiirdities of the preacher! Whereas
now the grave syndics of the town stayed and listened
in homage, not with sneers. And the artisan lingered
and showed that he thought over what he had heard
Even the young maiden stood mute and earnest, though
she had been wont to bound away from the house of
God to laugh and frolic in the town.

All this struck Arensberg; and the fact that the
novelty of the opinions uttered by the great Doctor
Martin kept him in a state of personal incertitude about
them, added to the impressions made by the obvious
confidence of his hearers.

One class of the congregation arrested his survey
and his thoughts more than any other. This was a
numerous band of college-men from the adjoining Uni-
versity. Among them he noticed many who were
evidently weighing every word, every argument of the
speaker. Pale, keen-eyed, self-constrained men they
seemed to be ; and yet their heads gave acquiescence^
and their gradually glowing faces showed their interest.
There were, however, dissentients among them; but
their white surplices offered a suggestion, if not an
explanation, of the cause.

His eye dwelt most especially upon the face of the
young scholar who had been his guest. To look care-
fully at him he was tempted, not only by his late feel-

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 115

ings of regard for his person and respect for Us great
talents, but likewise by the profound deference that
had been shown him by all classes as he had gone to
take his seat. That face was, indeed, to Arensbeig a
study! It seemed to him as if its changes both in
lineament and colour made the rapid successions of the
preacher's thoughts as rapidly visible. The Count
could catch pain on it when Doctor Martin became
fierce and denunciatory; he could see the gradual
tension of the eyebrows when an argument began, and
an increased frowning when it appeared fallacious, and
a relaxing brow of satisfaction when it became con-
clusive.

As the Count retired from the Church, true it is that
the vast masses waited without ; but both their serious-
ness and his own made the Sunday greetings so diffe-
rent from those which he had so often witnessed in
former times that his heart failed him ; and it was not
till his quick eye discerned quiet but deep looks of
regard that he felt reassured.

He and his immediate suite passed onward towards
the Castle in unbroken silence. Their attention was
called off from their grave thoughts only when, some-
w^hat in advance, they discerned the Cardinal and the
Canon, both in earnest argument : the latter, however,
attracting notice by attitudes that were excited and a
tone that was vociferous.

116 COUNT ABENSBEBG; OB,

CHAPTER Xm.

** You must have risen early, Monsignore !" said Count
Arensberg to Cardinal Adrian, whom he met, the next
morning, walking in the grounds at a considerable dis-
tance from the Castle.

"And may I not express the same surprise as to
yourself, my Lord Count?" returned Adrian, with a
courteous yet faint smile. " But," continued he, as the
smile gave place to a look of alarm, "pray, utterly
forget my rank, even amongst these trees, for know
you that here, and though at an hour so private, I feel
that I am watched."

"Watched?" demanded Arensberg, sternly, "and
by whom ? Hath either my old equerry or my page
shown your Eminence discourtesy ? "

" Not so, my lord. All—all— the highest and the
lowest of your noble house have my most fervent
thanks and prayers — for they all are good to the for-
lorn stranger."

" Then it must be Dr. Melancthon, of whom your
Eminence is hinting," said the Count, and a dark
shade overspread his countenance.

THE DATS OF LUTHEE, 117

*^ Then I should do him a most grievous wrong,"
replied Adrian. ^^ Heretic though I must deem him,
his learning is exceeded only by his guilelessness and
charity."

*^ You can have no traitor. Father, save in your own
fiincy," answered Arensberg. ** But stay, did any one
at Wittemberg recognise your Eminence ?"

"Not to my knowledge, my Lord Count; but
forbear to question me," he added, sighing. **I
dare say no more than that I am suspected and am
watched."

The two walked forward in a restrained uneasiness,
when ere long Arensberg thought he could discern,
gliding stealthily through a covert, the form of the
Cardinal's confessor. His eyes reverted to the face of
Adrian, and the deadly pallor and deep grief which it
betrayed, raised a tumult of suspicions within his bosom ;
but he made no rem9>rk.

" I will withdraw, my Lord," at length said Adrian.
** Perchance you would be alone?"

" Nay," rejoined Arensberg, " unless you seek soli-
tude for yourself, I crave your company. Indeed, my
mind, since yesterday, has become so disturbed with
thoughts and uncertainties, that I had resolved to seek
a conference."

" What of yesterday has so disturbed you, my good
Lord? " asked Adrian.

" Did your Eminence listen to Doctor Martin, and
remain unmoved ? " answered Arensberg.

"Moved I was, for eloquence — be its argument

118 COUNT abensbebg; or,

what It may — must move one. And yet, my Lord
Count, I came away from Doctor Luther's sermon
nearly as untouched in conviction as I was when I
went to hear it."

** And so did I, your Eminence ; and yet — and yet —
the bare memory of that hour moves me still. To hear
assaults upon our Holy Faith, and, while all along I
scorned them, to have been borne away by the elo-
quence of the defamerl It has weakened my self-
respect."

*' Alas I that self-respect," groaned the Cardinal.
" Once I had it. Oh I would that it could come
again I

These last words were uttered with such a bitter
plaint, and the Italian's speaking features were so
vocal with anguish, that Arensberg was silenced, and
the two walked on together — each one looking on
the ground that seemed to come to meet them — both
being so absorbed in their thoughts, as to be uncon-
scious of their own personal movement.

They had not proceeded to any great distance before
they were called off from their painful self-communings,
by the sounds of several voices. Both stopped, waiting
for the new comers, who, it was evident, from their con-
versation growing louder and more intelligible, were
coming towards them.

** Is not this a little too severe. Reverend Father ? "
asked a voice, which, though the speaker was as yet
hidden among the trees, Arensberg knew must have
come from his mother^

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 119

" Severe I sayest thou, daughter ? and because I
told the people that they, who think themselves assured
of salvation by the purchase of Indulgences, will go to
the Devil with those who teach them so ? "

** I would presume, dear Doctor," added a third
speaker ; ** I would presume to take part with our
noble hostess. We both bow profoundly to your great
doctrine; but must we damn all those who hold the
contrary ? "

' But this half-concealed debate was closed as soon as
the last two speakers emerged forth into the broader
light of the little valley. For both parties descried
each other, and mutually approached.

With the forms of the Countess-mother and Melanc-
thon Count Arensberg and the Cardinal were, of
course, familiar. Not so exactly, however, were they
acquainted with the other speaker. It is true that
they did detect some resemblance between him and the
preacher of the day before. And yet they were for a
while uncertain. There walked towards them a man in
the habit of a monk ; he had nothing peculiar in his
stature, it was of the ordinary height. What struck
them, nevertheless, was the firm, vigorous step of one
whose appearance — that of extreme emaciation-^might
have warranted a walk of feebleness.

When the two parties aj^roached, there was, in

addition to the mutual morning greetings of those who

were known to each other, a special introduction of the

stranger.

, It had happened, that the lady mother of Count

120 COUNT ARENSBEBQ; OB,

Arensberg had invited Doctor Martin to the castle;
and that — to shew him especial courtesy — she had
walked forth, accompanied by Mehtncthon, to meet him
on the border of the forest-parL This will account
for the above reunion.

Doctor Martin Luther, at this time about thirty-
four years of age, had abready much distinguished him*
self for erudition, and eloquence, and high moral
courage. Only recently a monk in the Augustine eon-
vent at Wittemberg, he had obtained, first, the chair
of theology in its yet nascent University — had gained
high praise as its most eloquent preacher — and farther,
had shown the boldest daring in his challenge of Tet-
zel, the Pope's agent, who was now on a pilgrimage to
promote Indulgences.

As we have said above, he was not peculiar in any-
thing of his outward appearance, save that his whole
port and bearing betokened the results of the gravest
care, or self-discipline. At this period in our tale,
the great Keformer was, as yet, concentrated in his
thoughts upon the Papal doctrine of Indulgences, and
upon that alone. Obviously this, although at first
sight it was an incidental circumstance, was the starting
point of all the subsequent reasonings and ecclesiastical
movements of Doctor Martin. And whatever may
have been his sudden words upon the more general
subject of Justification by Faith, we are right in
assuming that thitherto he was more specially aroused
against what was flagrant in practice, than against
what he afterwards regarded as flagrant in theory.

■ I 9 ■^f^'^'^—^^^W^'^^"^^'^—^* ■■■■■» iPi H I

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 121

■

Then^ again^ hia constitutional manner was nigged and
dogmatic, fitting him but little for intercourse with the
more refined and considerate habits of the family of
Count Arensberg.

The latter, as of course, advanced towards him, and,
in courtesy, welcomed him to his castle.

One might have thought that there was nothing pe-
culiar in the way in which the great preacher accepted
the proffered hospitality. His bearing, however, was
different when he was introduced to the Cardinal
Adrian, although the latter was spoken of as simply
an Abbate in the Count's household. An observer
woidd have been aroused to a variety of suspicions, if
he had watched them when they exchanged glances.
The eye of Doctor Martin was penetrating : so was
that of the Abbate. But this fact alone would not
have accounted for the scrutiny with which they
observed each other. There was memory in the
glance of each; and each respond,ed to the other,
just as — ^now we know the fiwjts-^might have been
expected.

The truth was this : Luther had seen the Cardinal at
Rome, and the latter had, at the same tune, observed
the young Augustinian monk when, in the discharge of
the mission he had received from his monastery, he
appeared before a consistory of which Adrian was the
chief.

But Doctor Martin — rough and precipitate though he
was — ^had too much innate delicacy to allow him to
manifest any recognition. He perceived in a moment

122 COUNT abeksbebg; ob,

that the Cardinal was under an assumed character
That was enough for him« Never was any man more
credulous in the professions of his fellow-men. Never
did any man incur more fearful perils from a charitable
construction of the acts and motives of his fellow-men.
And now^ concluding that the Cardinal had some wise
and strong reason for keeping himself unknown, he
made none other advances than such as were due to
the occasion.

And although Martin Luther gave the Cardinal no
verbal assurance that he might trust to his honour, yet
Adrian understood, appreciated, and, without a fear,
trusted him. He could not forego the thought that then
passed his brain — ^^'How is it that this man, who is
thus committing himself to a perilous assault upon our
Church, and who now has within his power to sacrifice
one of its Princes, and to avail himself of my awftil
fall, rises far above all the chance facilities that may
come to him and behaves thus forbearingly, and not as
a knavish Monk to whom every little aid to his cause —
bad though it be — is a very god-send? "

The feelings that were then rife within the breast
of Count Arensberg, as also those conditions of courtesy
which prevented him from alluding to the conversation
that he and the Cardinal had accidentally overheard,
confined him within the restraints of a common, though
his disposition made it a cordial hospitality ; and the
day passed away within the Castle just as would be
supposed any such day would pass where the host was
full of intelligence, and large knowledge ^of life, and

THE DAYS OP LUTHEB. 123

frankness of disposition, and severe yirtae ; and where
his distinguished guests played away, alternately, in
assertions and rejoinders, all of which were distin-
guished by learned but good-humoured altercation.

124 COUNT AEENSBEBG; OK,

CHAPTER XIV.

It was inevitable but that Luther and Melancthon
should seize the present opportunity of having as
many and as private conferences as courtesy to their
noble hosts and their fellow-guests would sanction.
Luther — but a few days before — had, in the publication
of his Theses, thrown down the gauntlet, and had chal-
lenged controversy upon some of the most important
dogmas of the church of Rome. And we have also
seen that Melancthon was entertaining the warmest
sympathy with the views and feelings of the great
Reformer.

We are about to bring both of them, in earnest
conversation, before our readers ; but, in order to un-
derstand their conversation, there is need of some few
preliminary observations.

Up to the period of which we are now speaking,
Luther's antagonism had been directed against only-
one, though the most flagrant abuse in the Church
of Rome. Earnestly and conscientiously was he a
clergyman of that Church. No doubts had crossed
him upon the Universal Bishopric of its Pope; none

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 125

respecting the exclusive validity of its orders and its
sacraments. The bare thought of secession from its
communion had never whispered a purpose which, if it
had sought a hearing, would, have been defined as
blasphemy.

What, as yet, made him a marked man was chiefly his
pre-eminence among his brother-ecclesiastics in his self*
struggles to obtain perfect peace of conscience before
God, and his ever-increasing holiness in both his spirit
and his life. This arose not from any extraordinary
instigations of remorse; for his conduct, both as an
ecclesiastic and as a man, had been exemplary. But
it had been his happiness to study the Holy Scriptures
for himself, whereas by far the majority of his brethren
had never opened them ; and thence it followed that,
in the place of the puerile modifications and. pallia^
tions of personal sin which the Church taught, he had
learned the inflexible spirituality of God's law ; and
his groans for pardon had become those of heart-pierc-
ing agony.

It was while, day after day, this anxious monk either
paced the corridors of his monastery, or spent whole
nights upon his knees, within his cell, crying, " Where-
with shall I come and appear before God ? shall I give
thousands of rams, or ten thousand rivers of oil ? " it
was then, we say, that, to his pious horror, he was met
by the words of an agent of the Holy Father, **that
souls would fly out of purgatory, the moment that the
money paid for their redemption was thrown into the
preacher's box ; that there was no sin, howsoever great.

126 COUNT ARENSBERO; OR,

which the Indulgences would not absolutely and at once
efface."

And 6O5 when, as the outburst of his honest indigna-
tion, he propounded those theses to which we have
before referred, whatever was the warmth of his pas-
sion, or whatever was the anger of his language, no
one of even his fiercest opponents could afiirm that
his purposes were schismatic. In truth, he was more
of a moral than a theological reformer, in this com-
mencement of his career. Truly evangelical were his
doctrinal convictions as to Justification before Crod;
but the characteristic position which he took was far
more like that of a Socrates against the Sophists, than
that of an Aristotle against Plato.

Indeed it may be said, that he was possessed of
the passion which is peculiarly distinctive of an eccle-
siastic — VL passion which can more forcibly, than by any
other words, be called the ** esprit du corps" — ^which
threw around him manifold restraints, and prejudices,
and fears: whereas, on the other hand, the young
Melancthon, who never entered holy orders^ retained
the calmer feelings of a laic, — much more even than
did Erasmus, who, though ever anxious to appear the
layman, was nevertheless, both by ordination and
its attendant influences, within the ranks, though
in the lowest, of the officers of the church. And
thence it followed that Melancthon, cool both by
temperament and from his purely secular profession;
at the same time amiable for his spirit, and uncom-
mitted by his office ; prudent in moral calculation, and

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 127

unbiassed in his considerations about life and about
men, presented a contrast, though not an opposite con-
trast, to his Mend.

They were together and alone in Melancthon's
chamber, in the Castle. It was at the close of the
day on which we met them in the previous chapter.

The room was that of a student, crowded with
books, most of which were heaped indiscriminately one
upon the other in disorder, grievous to the eye of the
mere dilettanti scholar, but all in order such as the
associations of the young student classified. In one
spot might be seen his Aristotle, guarded round by
his Quinctilian — for he was writing his book on Khe-
toric ; in another spot there lay his Greek Testament,
opened at St. Paul to Titus ; lectures upon which he
was preparing for his class in the University.

It was a chamber small, and, though one of the best
furnished within the Castle, we of the present day
would have called it an apartment most meagre. But
it contained one rich and precious ornament. It was
a portrait, by the then young Albert Durer, of the great
John Reuchlin, the literary patron of Melancthon —
the restorer of letters in Germany — ^the terror of the
German Papal Church because, forsooth, he cultivated
Hebrew — that language in which the Almighty pri-
marily spoke to man, but which Keuchlin's contem-
poraries declared were the articulations of the Devil.

This portrait was so placed upon Melancthon's table
that, whenever he raised his eyes from his books or
from his papers, it was sure to meet his gaze. The

mm^^^^'^i'mmmm

128 COUNT ABENSBEBa; OB,

young Professor had thus placed it, for he felt the
need of the human sympathy it spoke out, when
he was worn and wearied with earnest study, and
felt discouraged at the ignorance that was around
him.

*^ I am weary of the day, dear Melancthon,'* said
Luther somewhat petulantly, as he took his seat. ^* What
fitness is there," he continued, " in a man of public
action having to modulate his voice, and words, and
manners ? '*

" A moral trial, reverend Father," meekly returned
Melancthon.

** A moral trial ? " demanded Luther, somewhat
abruptly, " yea, verily ; but if I had had only a little
foresight, it would never have occurred. It shall be a
lesson to me for the future : I will have no more of
them of my self-creation."

This referred to a strife of words into which, at
dinner, he had been imperceptibly drawn by the Cardi-
nal Adrian's astute and malicious confessor. That
flippant and sinister man had called up all his powers
to fret and throw off his guard the accuser of the
Priesthood. And Doctor Martin's bold, uncalculating
temper had betrayed him into language too forcible,
and, for present circumstances, indiscreet. He, there-
fore, had adjourned to Melancthon's rooms, in painful
self-discomposure.

** But away with this, dear Melancthon," resumed
Luther : " my stay here can be only until to-morrow's
dawn, and I have much to say to thee, and about

THE DAYS OF LUTHEH. 129

much to ask thy counseL Cajist thou prolong thy
vigils?''

^^ Even through the nighty reverend Father ; and
that right willingly. But suffer me to listen rather
than to speak."

" Of course thou art aware of aU."

'• Of all ? " inquired Melancthon. « Nay, that I
cannot be, retired as I have been, for the sake of a little
respite from my work at Wittemberg."

" Then learn, dear friend, that profligate monk, Tet-
zel,hath made me lose all patience."

** Should you not have waited for the Archbishop's
answer to your letter ? " meekly asked Melancthon.

"Waited? waited? have I not waited, and all in
vain ? And how long is the Professor of Divinity, the
Provincial Vicar of the Augustins, the Pastoral Visi-
tor of Misnia and Thurfngia — how long is he to wait,
when the cause of Holy Church — ^nay, the cause of
morals— is at stake?" asked Luther, somewhat quickly.

'*Be not angry — think me not presumptuous; but
may we, in no case, leave wickedness to bum out
itself? "

** Yea, verily, if the fire be in a desert, where it can
only be its own victim. But, brother Melancthon,
how long wouldst thou wait with a pail of water, if
the flame burst out in thine own dear homestead?"

*^ I am silenced. Father."

** Well, then, teU me truly, have I been too rude,
if not too sudden ? Mind me, I have done little more
than make use of the Pope's own language, as set forth

VOL. I. K

130 COUKT abensbebg; OB,

in the decretals against the rapacity and extortion of
the collectors."

*^ Yet were reflections upon his Holiness ineyitable?"

^' Ah ! there again — ^why Dr. Staupitz asked me^
* What, would you write against the Pope ? What
are you about ? They will not permit you to do this,' "

** And what, reverend Father, was your answer?"
asked Melancthon, anxiously.

'^'But suppose they must needs permit it 2' re-
pUed I."

These last words were uttered with a look of bold
defiance, which, however, was but momentary. The
great natural courage, joined to the quick tempera-
ment of Doctor Martin, oflen led to outbursts — ^not so
much of high thoughtful passion, as of simple physical
daring. It was so in the case before us. Every one
who will study his history — whether as to be gathered
from his own words, or from his letters to Pope
Leo X. — ^will be convinced how great still was his
reverence for the Papal See at this period; and how
truly he meditated no subversive assault upon the
power or the ecclesiastical claims of the Pontiff; but
rather an indignant protest against the immoral prin-
ciples and pretensions of his subordinates.

At the time of our tale, the orthodoxy of Martin
Luther (using the term orthodoxy as the members of
the Church of Some use it) was far less questionable
than that of Fenelon and Pascal in later times, although
they lived and died in her communion. If, therefore,
Luther could then have been called a ^' Beformer "

THE PAYS OF LUTHEB. 131

at all; it was as a refoHner^ not of doctrine, but of
morals.

Melancthon, upon the reply of Luther, which we
have given above, continued silent, and grew pale and
more pale. The heart of Luther was one of the utmost
tenderness (rude, rugged, unmeasured, though were
most of his acts), and he felt pained at the expressive
silence of his gentle but most learned friend. His,
however, was not a soul to yield itself long to even
such amiable constraints from duty.

^' Adieu, Philip," he said, using, for the first time,
that Christian name, of which he afterwards made such
frequent and affectionate use — " Adieu, Philip ; woe is
unto me, if I do not what I feel to be my duty ;" and
then he retired to his chamber.

132 coxnrr abbksbebg; ob.

CHAPTER XV.

With what yarious feelings did the party in the castle
separate^ and what different scenes did their sleeping
apartments present that night I We have witnessed
what took place between Luther and Melancthon. But
little need be said respecting Arensberg and his lady-
mother, save that both retired in severe disgust at the
discourteous conduct of the Canon^ and with grateful
interest in Luther. The latter feeling was only in
perfect keeping with that high reverence which the
Coimtess had for many a month been entertaining for
the great Reformer ; but^ in the case of Arensberg, it
was more novel: for, to say the truth, his taste, made
fastidious by his residence at Rome, had felt a frequent
jarring with the unpolished, unrestrained words of
Doctor Martin — to say nothing of the natural distaste
he experienced towards the almost coarse impugner of
what he had been taught to regard as sanctities. But
the Count's love of genuine nature, of intrepid open-
ness, united with his pleasure at Luther's sympathy
with his young brother Rupert (to whom he was de-

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 133

votedJy attached) — all these wrought an immediate
change in his favour. Then came his intolerable dis-
gust at the Canon's behaviour, coupled with those sus-
picions which had awoke within him in the morning,
when he thought he had detected him as a spy upon
the afflicted and unassuming Cardinal.

How much all this operated in influencing Count
Arensberg as to the relative merits of Luther's and the
Canon's opinions, we will not say.

As to Cardinal Adrian, be it, at present, enough
for us to state that, after having long, and with piteous
groanings, knelt before the ebony crucifix that was in
his room, he flung himself upon a hearth-rug, no longer
daring to sue for physical comfort on a bed ; and there,
through the long night, he lay vigilant and restless,
employed in weaving fancies of self-torture.

In strange contrast, the slumbers of both Rupert
and Mellendorf were almost immediate. And yet you
might have seen that the youthful sleepers were not
quite at ease ! There were no strange changes of the
countenance such as might have argued mental dis-
comfort, but there were quickly-passing movements
that shewed pleasurable excitement; and, more than
once, Rupert's voice would give an earnest of the sport
and the struggle of the morrow.

May we now intrude upon the sanctum of Nina?
It was a neat little room : a fit bower for a maiden.
Its furniture was very simple and modest. There was
a crucifix, it is true, upon her toilette-table ; but it
lay flat, as if she had removed it, but only half re-

134 COUNT abensberg; ob,

moved it^ from her devotional contemplations. What,
however, was most striking was the number of books
that were arranged around her. She was leaning upon
her elbow over an old, but richly chased vellum folio
(it was a Bible) ; but, evidently, she was not reading.
Often she had to wipe off tears that came unbidden,
and to throw back her long hair which her grief had
somewhat disordered.

What had grieved that gentle spirit? What but
some artless, yet most unlucky, words of the young
Graf Rupert, as to her influence over his brother
Arensberg? Had she ever thought that she held
influence aught over his mind? Never. She loved
him deeply, fervently; but she loved him with all
those high, honourable controls of feeling that had
ever kept her from even the bare imagining she might
feel aught towards him, save that of gratefid friend-
ship. This was not because she thought herself to be
somewhat plain, and, in this respect, hopeless of at^
tracting Arensberg's regards ; but, because she felt
that, in her penniless orphanhood, affection for herself
would be little short of wrong to Arensberg. Her
father's honour, as a noble soldier's, had been infused
into herself. Long and right faithfully had he been
the humble companion-in-arms of the late Count.
And he had left his child a legacy to the friendship of
his lord.

What then made her feel so acutely miserable ? It
was, that the bare idea of her maidenly influence upon
Arensberg should have ever been broached. She

THE DATS OP LUTHEK. 135

*would have gladly spent her life in silent^ unavowed
devotion to the noble son of her father's chief.

Her tears were indeed most bitter. And before
she cast herself upon her couch, the few words, ^' thou
Father of the Fatherless," uttered as they were with
broken sighs, might easily tell the auditor how even this
early and apparently trivial grief drove her to nestle, as
it were, in the infinite love and protection of her God.

But all these different forms of slumber passed away.
You could scarcely call it dawn — the pale hue of the
morning's streak fringed the lowest line of the horizon —
when merry voices of men, loud neighs of horses, deep
hayings of hounds in the court-yard of the castle,
awoke its inmates.

It was not long ere young Rupert and his friend
MeUendorf were in their midst. The light of morning
was but feebly struggling with the glare of torches.
From amidst a crowd of grooms and stable-men, there
might be seen one little group of some three or four,
whose movements appeared to be more direct than were
those of others. The keen eye of Rupert instantly
detected the Father Martin in the act of mounting
Max, the young Graf's favourite roan, and he instantly
bounded to the spot.

" A fair field to you, my kind young lord," said
Doctor Martin, as he began moving toward the port-
cullis.

" If I am lucky to-day, reverend Father, will you
think a boy presumptuous, if he begs you to accept
some of the game ?" asked Rupert, blushingly.

136 COUNT AREKSBERO; OR^

*' Bless you, my eon !" returned Luther, much moved
and pleased with the youth's modesty and good feeling.
** It will rejoice me, if you can report to me your
•own success. Doctor Philip tells me you are fond of
music. I have such a violin ; wiU your lordship accept
it from a poor monk's gratitude ? "

" Oh, yes I I will — I will ; but not till I bring you
a good boar's haunch, reverend Father. And I will
come and fetch it."

This Kupert uttered, walking beside his friend
Max, often caressing his loved steed, trying to soothe
him ; for he seemed somewhat restive at his unwonted
mission.

As Doctor Martin issued from the gates, Kupert
bade him farewell, saying, —

" Max, Doctor Marlin, must stop with you, till I
bring the boar ; but do not let him grow fat from doing
nothing."

Kupert had not time to get back before almost the
whole of the hunting-party were mounted, and were in
march. But, as soon as he had sprung into his saddle,
with what glee did he make his horse curvet and
caracole !

** A laggard, Rupert 1 A laggard ! and on your
own holiday ? "

" Nay, nay, brother Arensberg, no laggard ! Were
we not here, Mellendorf, the first ? "

" Well, let us onward."

And the band of hunters, having crossed the moat,
and allowing the prickers, with their dogs, to advance

imm^^wr*^^if^ vi

THE DATS OP LUTHEK. 137

forward, paased somewhat slowly through the more
cultivated park, until they reached the ravine in
which the scouts were waiting their arrivaL

There was only one of the hunting-party who was
not too absorbed in the coming chase, to allow of even
a glancing notice of the face of Nature. That one was
Nina. Like aU the ladies of that day, she gladly lent
herself to the inspiration of the sport. Not merely
pleased with the gentle undulations of a well-trained
jennet, but full of glee as her courser leaped, fled, over
mounds or prairies — quick in ear to the varied music of
the welkin — loving eagerness in all its virtuous forms
— no one was more passionately fond of such sports.
Still, she had vowed never again to enter on it when
the stag, the monarch of the forest, was to be its object.
Once she had seen him — not brought to bay — then his
own daring courage might have merely called up her
own — but lying low and panting, and with human
tears ; and that was enough for her ! But the boar,
a beast so savage, to slay him seemed to her to be no
violence to gentleness.

She, however, had composure enough to look upon
and rejoice in the scene around her. They had ridden
far, and had but just approached the fringe of a wide-
spread and sunny glade. Immediately before them was
a deep gorge of the mountains, either side of which was
dark, almost impervious, from the forest-trees and brush-
wood. For a while all around was in breathless silence,
and, in fact, but for the motion of some boughs whose
quiet was being disturbed by the dogs and prickers.

138 COUNT abensbebg; or,

the whole mass might have been thought inanimate.
Soon, once and again, the impatience of Kupert was
increased by sounds, as if the hoimds were beginning
to give tongue; but the wary Essel restrained his
young lord, with the assurance that they came only
from the younger dogs, and were not to be relied on.
Quickly the very brushwood became instinct with life.
Hares, pheasants, bounded into the more open path,
and fled. It was only when a large-antlered stag
leaped into the arena, and stood proudly and defy-
ingly for a moment, that the hunters thought of pur-
suit.

^* Whoop! whoop I" cried Rupert, and dug his spurs
into his gallant horse.

" Back I back I back, I say, Rupert I" exclaimed his
brother ; " is that a boar, sir ? "

While the little party were following with admi-
ration the stag, as it leisurely scaled the open face of
the mountain, the bay of the hounds burst upon the
ear, with tones increasing every second in number and
in depth, that there could be no mistake. Arensberg,
looking round him, shouted the halloo. Then quietly
drawing near to Nina, to be at hand for her pro-
tection in case of need, he waited.

And now every moment added to the excitement
The loud crashing of the boughs betokened that some
huge beast had been disturbed from his lair, and was
rushing through the forest. Nearer and nearer came
the sounds, and the practised ear of Essel taught him
that the quarry was coming straight towards them.

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 139

It was not the object of the hunters to effect a capture
without some sport, and, therefore, they drew aside
from the mouth of the gorge, to allow their victim
scope for flight over the open glade. This move was
fortunate, for on the instant that they made it, out
there burst, upon the very spot they had left, an enor-
mous brute — Essel learned afterwards that she had
lost her cubs — and that accounted for the more than
wonted savageness which she betrayed, and which the
aged hunter had never before seen equalled at so early
a moment in the chase. At first she seemed inclined
to diverge from the straight course, and to turn upon
the party. Every boar-spear was in readiness, but the
quick burst of the gallant hounds sent her rushing
across the plain.

" One minute more ! one minute more, dear Rupert ! "
cried Arensberg, as the youth was beginning to dash
forward. " Let the brute have some little chance, and
ourselves some sport."

Onward, onward rushed the pack ; the foremost soon
reaching within leaping distance of their prey. It was
then that, with a signal from Arensberg, the young
hunters, Rupert and Mellendorf, gave rein to their
steeds, who had now become almost ungovernable.
The Count, with the others, kept himself in the rear,
anxious to give the noble youths a free scope for emu-
lation, and yet to be so near them as to obviate any
danger that might arise from their inexperience. The
chase itself was long — long unusually ; and before the
game had been brought to bay, many a hoimd fell back

140 COUNT areksbebg; OB,

exhausted, and the very horses, covered with flakes of
foam, began to work heavily.

It was a stirring sight — that of the hunters coursing
like the wind over the wild prairie ; each managing his
inspired horse with infinite address ; each eager to out-
strip his rival Both, however, arrived close together
at the scene of action. It was enough to make far
older hunters a little anxious.

The enormous creature, with her tusks covered with
foam and blood, was standing in a second's peace from
his persecutors ; for several of the most noble hounds were
lying on their backs, ripped up and moaning piteously ;
whilst others, warned by the fate of their companions^
were content to show their fury at a distance.

"At her. Bran! — ^at her!" shouted Rupert to his
favourite dog — and the brave hound sprang upon the
boar, and held it fast by the ear. The brute shook him
off, leaving a portion of the lacerated, bleeding monster
in the dog's maw, and then turned viciously upon
Rupert.

He lost not the twinkling of an eye, before he hurled
his boar-spear, and with a true aim, but his strength
was insufficient for pinning the monster. Nevertheless,
she fell, and the unenvious Mellendorf, crying " Bravo,
Rupert!" flung himself from the saddle. As quickly
so did Rupert, and with their drawn hangers, were
rushing upon their victim.

" Hold, hold, my lords I" almost screamed Essel, who
had now come up to them. " Hold, hold I — go not near
her yet ! "

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 141

The noble youths were shewing their courage^ but
their inexperience just as much.

^' Take her on her flanks I take her on her flanks, my
lords I" cried Essel, " pray let me face her !"

Bupert had no time for answer, for the boar, gather^^
ing herself up, and maddened with the wound, rushed
straight at him. The youth's slight hanger, though he
had poised it skilfully, snapped asunder in his attempt
to meet the onslaught. The beast, however, fell a se-
cond time, but it was with Kupert underneath her.

It would have been well then, if Arensberg had
maintained the same self-possession that the aged
equerry was displaying. On the contrary, however, he
forgot aU his science in woodcraft, in his uncontrollable
anxiety to rescue his young brother, and unwarily ran
forward with his boar-spear. The beast, making one
last expiring effort, seized the spear in her mouth, and
rushing upon the Count, who was now weaponless,
bore him to the ground ; and with one of her enormous
tusks, ploughed up the right thigh and arm of her un-
fortunate assailant.

But now came a woman's hand, by love nerved.
Nina, who had been breathlessly watching the conflict,
no sooner saw the mishap of Arensberg than she urged
her trembling jennet near to the infuriated savage, and
by a well-directed stroke, pierced its heart.

What woe then met ^her eyes I Rupert, indeed,
although bruised, had sprung up, the moment that the
boar left him to attack Arensberg ; but the Count lay
bleeding and deeply gored.

142 COUNT ABENSBEBG; ORy

It was the moment when that veil, with which she
had long and studiously concealed her affections, was
rent in twain* Arensberg had fallen into a state of un-
consciousness, so that he knew not the eagerness with
which she tore up her scarf into shreds, in order to make
bandages for his wounds. That, if he had witnessed it,
would have seemed only natural; but a painful sus-
picion awoke within him when, on his recovering from
his swoon, he found Nina walking beside the litter on
which he was being carried, and in the act of gently,
weepingly, kissing his hand.

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 143

CHAPTER XVL

Seyebal dajs had to elapse ere the whole family
at the Castle recoYered from the consternation and
anxiety that had been excited on the return of the
hunting-party, with the Count borne upon a litter,
senseless and bleeding. Several days and nights had
been passed by the noble sufferer amid those pains
which, through fever and delirium, and their re-action,
had supervened. Meanwhile, the Countess-Mother
would delegate her watch at the bedside of her son to
no one : no prayers of the faithful Essel, or of the
Coimt's foster-mother, could induce her to accept their
services in substitute of her own* These two, but none
others, were suffered to remain permanently within
the chamber. Even Rupert was allowed only some
few brief glances at his brother.

And all the others remained without, in deference to
the maternal interdict.

Once, however, and but once — and when, from the
gloomy looks of the physician, it was argued, that
there was but little hope — the solitary Countess was
disturbed. It was by the Canon, who sought, by

144 COUNT ARENSBEBG; OB;

means of Essel, to obtain leave to discharge his spiritual
functions to the invalid. This, his offer, arose not
from any religious impulse on his part, utterly scep-
tical as he was ; but from the earnest anxiety of the
Cardinal. Gladly — oh, how gladly ! would he have
proffered his own services; but his self-remorse — ^his
knowledge that the Count was well acquainted with
his fall — and then, the necessity of hi^ maintaining his
disguise — ^prevented him.

We cannot say, whether it was that the good Essel's
mode of communicating to the Countess the Canon's
wish, involved his own entreaty that she should not
accept it; or whether she had taken insuperable dis-
gust and suspicion as to the Priest's person and charac
ter; or whether now, for the first time, her long-
slimibering religious feeling felt the necessity of
making a practical protest against the mere manual
virtue of the Priesthood; yet, so it was, she firmly
but mildly declined them.

Much may be said, to account for this, upon groimds
purely naturaL The mother's heart would " hope even
against hope ;" and clinging to the frail belief that her
son's strong manhood woiild prevail over all disease,
she shuddered at an act of the Church, which, by
^^ supreme unction," would have seemed to make death
more desirable than recovery. But for that hope,
neither her own imperfect views, nor the lessons of
her revered Doctor Martin, would have warranted
her opposition.

This self-struggle, however, would have been too

^immmmmmmfmmrs^mKM

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 145

powerful, if it had lasted long ; but, most mercifully
for her widowed heart, Arensberg soon — and, in spite
of all forebodings — ^rallied.

*^ M7 mother," one evening, he said, faintly, " would
my kind leech let me see the Abbate? Should I
die, I would have some moments with him, and
alone.^

** Wait but till to-morrow, dearest Arensberg, and I
will beg permission for him."

'* I would see him now."

'^ But he is not a Priest, you know. Do let me
send Mellendorf for Doctor Martin. And yet — and
yet — dear Arensberg, this need not be. Thou wilt
soon be well and strong, and thine own dear self again."

** Mother, think me not disobedient. I would see
the Abbate now."

And then, for the first time since she had seen him
lying wounded and unconscious, she left the room,
seeking for the wise and kind physician.

*^ Is the Count calm ?" he asked.

" Calm, yet pertinacious."

" Then the Abbate had better see him. This Italian
friend of his seems to be a gentle and quiet man. The
danger will be less than to leave the Count fretted and
expectant."

It was with a heart that palpitated with grave and
sorrowful emotion, that Cardinal Adrian entered the
sick chamber. As he had been approaching it, there
crossed his memory, and with vividness, the scene when
he himself had lain wounded and conscience-stricken at

VOL. I. L

146 COUNT arensbebg; OB5

Mantua^ and when Count Arensberg had shewn him
such considerate pity and attention.

** Would — would," he murmured to himself, ** that I
could change places with him ! He, so innocent^ and
now, perchance, djing in the cause of fraternal love,
whereas, I am fallen — fallen ! And dare I minister to
him God's mercies, whilst I doubt them for myself?"

Such, and many more like them, were the feelings
of that poor heart ; for the high truths of Christianity,
with which his then unrivalled learning had made him
familiar, but which, in past days, he had gathered up
only as a science or as objects for his philosophical
contempt, had begun to germinate within his bosom.
True, they had hitherto but re-appeared in his long
barren bosom, after that the ploughshare had, to his
anguish, torn up and rent his inmost fibres. Yet was
he, already, an earnest, honest penitent ; and he sought
for no guilty anodynes.

He stepped noiselessly to the Count's couch, and
without words, without even broken ones, took one of
the pallid hands of his young, generous protector.

" Are we alone ?" faintly asked Arensberg.

" We are alone," returned the Cardinal, in as low a
tone. But such were his own personal restraints, and
such his grief at the sight of the worn and wasted
nobleman, that he could say no more.

"Raise me but a little, my Lord Cardinal, for I
would speak."

" Speak not, my Lord Count I Conscience, con-
science has spoken long before you sent for me."

THE DAYS OP LUTHEK. 147

Arensberg looked upon him wistfiillj^ and then^ as his
eje caught a glimpse of the pale^ shuddering speaker^
with a pressure of his hand, he said,—

'* Nay, my lord, do not misconceive me so ! I but
asked your presence to provide for your future safety,
should I die."

^^Dieldiel"

The words were very low, almost inarticulate; for
meanwhile the Cardinal had been breathing forth a
deep burthened sigh so soon as he had found that the
scene was to be one of kindness not reproach.

*' Yes, die," said Arensberg. ** That may be— that
is probable : and my last hour wiU be the happier, can
I but save you."

His weakness now made him pause — ^the Cardinal
still unable to do more than look and listen.

** This ring," resumed Arensberg, " I would beseech
your Eminence to give to my good and gracious master,
the Elector Frederick. Fear not to entrust him with
every passage that hath been between you and me;
&nd — and "

The Cardinal was silent, and but for his grateful
looks and the big tears that fell audibly upon the
pillow, Arensbei^ might have inferred that he was
offended.

**And — and — I crave but one poor boon. Your
Eminence may have the power to exonerate the Mar-
chese della Scala. But do it, and then the blessing of
him that is ready to perish . . . ."

"For God's pity's sake I speak more fully. Command

148 COUNT ABENSBEBG; OB^

me more. Command everything and anything. Com-
mand my life. What ? have they entwined the Mar-
quis within their toils ? Have they . . . . "

** Only swear to me, your Eminence, that you will
exonerate him."

" My lord, I dare swear no longer by that Church
I have betrayed; I swear, by the pity of the Holy
Virgin for a broken heart."

** Enough," sighed Arensberg, and then reclined
back upon his pillow as if seeking sleep.

Some time had thus passed away, when at length
the Count murmured to himself, quite unconscious of
the presence of the Cardinal, —

*^ Would that I could see some ghostly father before
I meet my God I Father Antonio ? No, no. I like
him not. Ah I I doubt me but he intends some mis-
chief to his penitent but noble patron. I wonder,
ought I to ask his Eminence ? Would my God ratify
his fallen minister's absolution of me ?"

None but God could tell the agony of the Cardinal
whilst thus he heard, as from the precincts of the othet
world, a disallowance of his priestly functions. He
was not aroused to anger. He bowed his head in
trembling acquiescence.

And none but God could tell how fraught with the
highest good was this sad moment of the Cardinal's
humiliation.

" My lord," he said, as he leaned over the suflferer^
** shall we send for Father Martin ?"

But even this he had delayed to utter for some

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 149

time. Delicacy had thus waited, with the hope that
Arensberg might have forgotten his allusion to him-
self.

"Father Martin?" asked the Count, endeavouring
to recall his consciousness, — "Father Martin? Yes!
send for him."

150 COUNT abeksberg; ob»

CHAPTER XVII.

Although in the last chapter no mention has been
made of Philip Melancthon^ it will not be supposed
that he had failed in sympathy with the afflicted re-
latives of the Count, or that he had not held himself
in readiness to do each and everything that their
circumstances might render kind and desirable. From
hour to hour did he approach the chamber, wistful
for some early news from its interior. Anon did he
retire back to his own room in order that, unseen,
unheard, he might supplicate the aid of the Great
Physician. High proof was it of his affectionate and
absorbing anxiety, that his favourite volumes and the
manuscripts about which he had been so eager, re-
mained untouched.

But, indeed, his part in this afflictive scene was also
active. For when, debarred from his brother's cham-
ber, Rupert, in the anguish of his fears, would pace
the corridors of the castle through the livelong day,
and when the sobs of his young- heart would burst
upon the ear of his friend and tutor as he kept vigil,
then it was that Melancthon would glide to his side —

THE DAYS OP LUTHER. 151

would, without any intrusive directness^ aim to suggest
hope — would softly lead his young charge to think of
the Divine Arbiter of human life, and of His accessi-
bility to prayer.

The day, at the evening of which the events of the
previous chapter took place, had been the most touch-
ing of the whole. Rupert had left the chamber with
the physician. With youth's instinct he had drawn
sad inferences, and with its sanguineness, he had ag-
gravated them to himself. And almost frantic with
alarm he had flung himself upon a couch, writhing with
convulsive sorrow.

Mellendorf had followed him. Very dear had they
been to each other ; but they were dearer now. The
two youths could only look each in the face of the
other, then separate, but after a sad grasp of hands.

But, on this occasion, Mellendorf was irresistibly led
to follow Rupert.

Yet, what could he do? His own heart was too
big with sorrow to leave him power to help his friend.
And so he flung himself silently upon a seat, and
watched until the paroxysm of Rupert frightened him.

What did he ? Instinct, that pointed to the wise and
tender tutor, sent him rushing to his room.

The door was ajar : Melancthon — such was his own
sorrow — ^had forgotten to close it ; and there, within,
the page saw him rising from his knees.

" Rupert — Rupert," was all that he could utter ; and
grasping Melancthon's sleeve, he looked imploringly for
him to follow.

152 COUNT ABENSBER6; OB^

''Die! he muBtn't die! he shan't die!" were the
words that met their ears, long before they reached
the chamber.

And when they entered it, there lay the youth, or
rather, there he rolled in anguish.

He did not hear their entrance.

Deeply moved though he was, Melancthon betrayed
no haste — ventured upon no words ; but seated himself
upon the couch.

It was some time before the silent sympathy suc-
ceeded, but it did succeed at last; and, almost in-
sensibly, the paroxysm gave way, the hard heavings of
the chest ceased, until, at last, Bupert became calm.

It might have seemed to some, who knew not human
nature, as if the youth had become sullen, so long
did he maintain his silence. But Melancthon, young
though he was himself, was more aware of the tran-
sitions of the heart.

"While there is life, there is hope," whispered
Melancthon, so soon as his thoughtftil mind led him to
break that silence.

**My dear young lord," resumed Melancthon, **it
may be (such other cases have been) that you could
save your brother."

" Save my brother I him who is now dying because
he would save me?" exclaimed Bupert, starting up,
with as much suddenness and energy as that with
which he had first flung himself upon the couch.
*^Save my brother? Oh I tell me how."

With great care and caution, Melancthon had thus

THE DATS OP LUTHEB. 153

endeayoured to arouse Rupert from the abandonment
of despair. And then, without the fervour of the
fanatic, without presumptuous confidence in the war-
rants of Holy Scripture, with thoughtful guards
against his counsel being taken as a prophecy or
promise, he gravely urged man's last and best resource
in Pbayeb.

It was not strange that Rupert listened and was
soothed and swayed by such a counsel. Rarely, if
ever, does the hmnan heart repel such when in mo-
ments of helplessness and dismay, however scornfully
it may have condemned it during those of activity and
confidence.

We dare not intrude upon those earnest moments
that ensued upon Melancthon's counsel. It is enough
for us to know that it was acted on. And then, after
that, the trio, composed of Rupert and Mellendorf, and
the good, wise Philip, sat in deep, anxious, meditative
silence.

It was broken by voices in the corridor. They were
those of the Abbate and the Canon ; and it was im-
possible but that they should be heard.

" And why not see me, a faithful minister of Mother
Church? Why send for one who has already scorned
the Holy Father, and assailed his Priests?" demanded
some one, vehemently.

" Do you forget, brother, that Father Martin is the
cure of the parish?" was the mild reply.

'^ Beast! heretic I spawn of Satan, that he is!" was
the rejoinder.

154 COUNT abensbebg; or,

" But can your Eminence " (and the speaker^

as if terrified at his own imprudence^ stopped ; but, by
his pause, only made his indiscretion the more notice*
able) • • . . ''Can you lend yourself to bring that
Doctor Martin hither, presumptuous villain as you
know him to be against the Church and against St.
Peter?"

"I know nothing about that now," said the same
mild voice. *'That he is a Priest of Holy Church,
and that the Count desires his presence, is enough
for me ; and," added he in a lower tone, *' do thou,
Antonio, pray, be prudent."

"Does my brother wish for Father Martin?" ex-
claimed Rupert, rushing from the chamber.

''He does, my young lord," gravely replied the
Abbate, "and I was now in search of his fnend.
Doctor Melancthon, to learn the quickest means of
finding him."

This he said in a calm voice, though there was the
most painful uneasiness within him, at the fear lest
the Canon's indiscretion should have betrayed his
rank. The Canon himself was furious at his preci-
pitancy.

Rupert waited not. He determined to go him-
self in quest of the being whose presence his brother
had desired, and was in the act of mounting his horse,
when, whom should he see arrive, and in haste, but
Father Martin himself?

This is easily accounted for. Melancthon, who for
days had l^d aside his pen, had resumed it, to tell

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 155

his friend the anguish of the family and of his own
heart ; to tell him how needfiil ghostly counsel might
become ; to tell him how much he distrusted the
Canon^ whilst^ at the same time, he expressed his
wish that the Abbate had been in full orders. And
it was from this, that Luther^ prompt in affectionate
impulses^ as well as in cold^ stem action^ made so
sudden a re-appearance.

^ God be thanked ! " exclaimed Rupert, as he sprang
toward Father Martin : " I was just mounting to go in
quest of you."

Luther understood all, yet said nothing; but fol-
lowed the rapid steps of the young noble.

It was not long ere he gained admittance to the sick
room ; though, as he advanced to it, he met the Canon,
whose countenance, as that of a disappointed, vengeful
prowler, surprised but did not alarm him.

May we say what took place within that chamber ?
May we tell how Count Arensberg gave forth his
feelings and his fears, and how Father Martin met
them?

If we do, it will be no breach of the sanctity of the
confessional; for we can record only those that were
preliminary.

"I am a sinner. Father. Oh! how little have I
done that I knew I ought to do : how much have I
done that I knew I ought not to do I " said Arensberg,
in a low, but in a touching tone.

**Good, my son," said Luther, but with a voice so
silvery, so kind, that the Count could scarcely iden-

156 COUNT ABENSBERG; OB,

tify it with that which he had heard from the pulpit,
and in stem colloquy ; *^ good, my son ; and * if we
confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us
our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' "

** I will — I will confess. Father," ejaculated Arens-
berg, *^ and do you assign my penance. All — all, save
the rights of Rupert, you may command for Holy
Church."

** Confess first to God, my son : confess to Him, and
by yourself alone; confess to Him, never forgetting
for one moment that *the blood of Jesus Christ
cleanseth from all sin'; confess to Him, sure that
' though your sins be as scarlet they shall become as
wool, and though they be red as crimson they shall
become white as snow.'"

** Then, Father, you would withhold from me your
priestly absolution, though I may soon have to meet
my God," groaned Arensberg.

*' Nay, nay, my dear lord," returned the Priest ; ^' if
need be, I will ensure your safety, upon this, which is
God's own word. Confess to God, through Christ,
my son. Do that, and I absolve thee : confess not to

me."

" Father," returned the Count, ^* in yonder drawer
are some thousand sequins. They are my own, and
fairly, honestly won in our Elector's service. Pray
take them and provide, according to your wisdom, for
masses for my poor souL"

" My dear young lord," replied Luther, with tender
earnestness, ^' think not, speak not so. Our blessed

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 157

Saviour's mercy is without money and without price,
and yet is worth all money and all price. Only believe,
and thou shalt be saved.''

"But, Father, I have not obeyed^ rejoined the
Count.

" * Not by works of righteousness, but by His
mercy are we saved,' saith St. Paul," answered Father
Martin.

This solemn colloquy would have continued, and
Luther would have gone on to insist upon the need of
not only repentance and faith, but of hearty repudia-
tion of all sin. And his postponement of priestly con-
fession and absolution, would have been as firmly
vindicated, on the ground of Christ being the aU-
sufficient source of pardon. And, meanwhile, he
would have avowed his readiness to give his assurance,
as God's ambassador, of the validity of such pardon ;
but the strangeness, nay, the happiness of these
blessed words, suspended Count Arensberg's power
of conversing ; and soon after, Luther felt justified in
recalling the Countess-Mother, and in leaving him
to the peaceful slumber which he saw was creeping
over him.

158 COUNT abensbebg; OR3

CHAPTER XVIIL

Leaving Count Arensberg for a short time— during
which he was lying disabled — we must resimie pur
narrative of the fates of the Marchese della Scala and
his daughter.

Most of what we are about to state took place during
the earlier portion of Arensberg's late journey.

Our readers will recall some of our former chapters,
in which we gave a few general details of the Cardinals'
conspiracy against the life of the Sovereign Pontiff.
It was natural that the Boman Priesthood, and that
the Pope especially, should feel horror at the thought
that the authors of the crime were ecclesiastics solely,
and should cast about for some plausible ground for
charging its origin upon the laity. Could they but
succeed in this, then, how disgraceful soever might
have been the conduct of some members of the sacred
college, the Church would be spared the shame of
having been a principal.

To effect this, but small sagacity was needed. Any
great and inveterate foe of Leo X. might feasibly be

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 159

put forward as its prime instigator, who, by his wiles,
had seduced the Cardinals.

With this scheme, all eyes instantly rested on the
Duke d'Urbino. The whole of Europe would know
how implacable was the hostility between him and the
Pope. All would know how his only chance of re-
covering his fortunes was the death of Leo. Every
one was familiar with the fact that there were many,
among the subjects of the Pontiff— both priests and
laymen — who deeply sympathized with the Prince in
his mkfortunes, and who had not been dow in giving
utterance to their feeling. And such sympathy might
be regarded as reproachful of Leo X., not so much
as the Head of the Church as the temporal Sovereign
of the Boman States. And so, even a Cardinal might
bie guilty of disaffection to his chiefs conduct in the
latter character, whilst his fealty to his infallible master
might remain intact.

A distinction so convenient, and providing a sphere
for such innumerable sophistries, that it has ever been
a favourite with a Papal dialectician I

And so, the Duke d'Urbino was selected as the
scape-goat. What mattered it, that the guilty Car-
dinals, while they cravenly confessed their guilt, never
by word or inuendo implicated him? Better, far
better, that the broad, open, innocent forehead of a
layman should be branded, than that the shameless
brow of the Church should remain so scarred.

As we have said before, the Marchese had, un-
happily for himself, given vent to the indignant emo-

160 COUNT ARENSBERa; OB^

tions of a fair-fighting soldier^ at the bad and tortuous
designs of Pope Leo against the Duke. The voice of
history has pronounced scorn upon the conduct of the
former as piratical and treacherous ; and, although the
duty of a soldier forbids his canvass of the proceedings
of his Sovereign when he is in actual service, it was
not strange that, upon his return from the battle-
field, the Marchese should have allowed his opinions
to escape hiuL This he did ; but it was only among
men whom he regarded as bosom-friends. But bosom-
friends can sometimes become bosom-foes; and one
such had betrayed him to the Cardinal * * * *.

With what instruments, then, was the Cardinal not
furnished, wherewith to display his eagerness to de-
fend the fair fame of the Church ! and thus, while
he ingratiated himself with the Pontiff, to wield an
influence on Bianca that, he might think, would be
irresistible.

Little dreaming of the foul purposes, and too cre-
dulous in the assumed Church-loyalty of the Cardinal^
Father Francis had facilitated the arrest of the Mar-
chese, as we have seen in the previous chapter. He
loved — he revered the Marchese. With a purity, such
as the holiest office would justify, he loved Bianca.
But he loved the Church still more ; and, as may be
often seen in other though different cases, it allowed
of the utmost tenderness for other objects so long as
its own supremacy remained inviolate ; but could be-
come fierce and impitying as the grave, the instant
that the lowest step to its throne was touched. So

THE DAYS OP LUTHEE, 161

Father Francis no sooner heard from Cardinal * # # *
how their disgraced Church might divert her shame to
others, and no sooner was the charge, though against
his patron, shown to be most probable, than he crushed
his other feelings within his heart, and, notwithstand-
ing that it bled at every pore, gave himself eagerly,
devotedly, to the vindication of his Holy Mother.

When, by his entreaty, the Marchese left his
daughter and followed him to a retired chamber, the
father of Bianca instantly divined his own danger, but
he assured himself that his good confessor was arrang-
ing his escape. Sad, and for many a day, had been his
presentiment; open and full had been his disclosures
to his ghostly guide ; but he little knew that chi-
canery of Church feeling, which could produce within
the mind of even an honest-hearted priest the most
credulous suspicions. Father Francis, who, on other
subjects, was wont to weigh evidence, and to lean
to charity in the conclusions to which he came, had
leaped to the belief that the Marchese, even at the
confessional, had adroitly revealed but half the
truth.

At first, the priest had resolved on breaking the
whole subject to the Marchese, so soon as they had
gained the chamber. But when they entered it his
courage failed him, and he could do no more than
stand fronting his benefactor, looking aghast upon his

face.

** Speak, Father Francis ! fear not for an old soldier's
firmness. I see that you would spare me."

VOL. I. M

162 COUNT ABENSBEBO; OB,

The Priest could only wring his hands. He had
thought himself adequate to unsheathe the knife for
the sacrifice; or, in other words, to give, with Ids
own voice, the command to arrest the Marchese ; hut
his soul could not give the mission to his tongue,
and if it could, that tongue would have been unable to
obey.

The Marchese was be^miing to reproach him with
pusillanimity, when the arras that concealed the win-
dow opened, and a man, wearing the uniform of the
Procurator-fiscal's office, stepped forward, and, bowing
low, said, —

"The Marchese della Scala is my prisoner, in the
name of the Holy Father."

The noble veteran, on the sudden, seized his sword's
hilt, and might have drawn it, had not Father Francis
run forward imploringly.

" Draw not ! Oh ! draw not, my noble — ^my once
true-hearted lord ! Draw not I it will be in vain ;
and the act itself will be a crime of disobedience to
the Church."

" And so thou — thou false - hearted, treacherous
knave!" exclaimed the Marchese — "thou art the ad-
vocate of the Church I Bad advocate I Lead on.
Signer," he continued, with ineffable haughtiness :
" I follow. ' Et tu quoque. Brute,' " he added bit-
terly, turning again with a flashing eye upon the

Priest.

"To St. Angelol" said the officer to a band of
disguised soldiers, so soon as he and the Marchese

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 163

liad crossed the threshold of a private door of the
palace of the Cardinal.

Brave as he was, and therefore not likely to quail
before the danger that was thus threatening him ; and
full of conscious innocence as he was, and therefore
sure to be sustained by mighty moral strength ; yet
it is not certain that, as he accompanied his keepers,
and to a fortress of ominous import, the mind of the
Marchese would not have pondered sadly upon his
peril, and would not have gloomily indulged itself
in converting his late and frequent presentiments
into prophecies ; even his physical transition from the
blaze of light in the saloons of the Cardinal to the
darkness of the streets of Kome, might have given
aggravation to his melancholy : but his anxieties were
elsewhere and bitter. His quick soldier's eye, so long
used, not only to watch, but to interpret movements,
had caught the Cardinal ♦ ♦ ♦ *'g manoeuvre with
Father Francis ; but he had felt himself at fault in his
attempt to assign to it a meaning. Then, but very
indistinctly, he had thought that the Cardinal's gaze
upon his daughter was such that, if it had been a
layman's, would have provoked his indignation. Then,
what could mean the studied art with which he had
been severed from his child, and at the time, too, when
he had but little ground for doubting his immediate
return to be her guardian. And then again, what but
the most vile of artifices could have linked together the
young prelate, and such an ungrateful, traitorous villain
as Father Francis ? — for such he now thought him.

164 COUNT ABEN8BEB6; OB,

These bitter — thrice bitter aiixietiesj we bslj, called
him from his own personal perils.

His abstraction, however, was disturbed, and some-
what rudelj, as, on having passed the portcullis and
several corridors in St. Angelo, his prison-guide called
out to him, —

** Look to your steps, my lord 1"

The advice was necessary, though administered with
a roughness such as he himself had never used to a
private soldier. For his black-visaged keepers led him
down steps of slimy slipperiness ; and, without care, the
veteran might have fallen. If any weaker thoughts,
than those which we have mentioned, had prepossessed
him, he would, most assuredly, have marked and shud-
dered at the damp and darkness of the balustrades.
When they reached the bottom, he was ushered into a
cell, which stood open upon his left hand, and which
was made discernible in the gloom by the pale light
that feebly radiated from a lamp within.

He entered and took a survey of the home that had
been assigned him. It was a small dungeon, and with-
out an aperture, even for air. save one small orifice in
the iron door. Its walls were black, unwashed stone —
dark, most probably, from the smoke of the oil lamps
that had there been burned, and had there successively
expired, for centuries. Its roof was low and semicir-
cular. On those dark, sooty walls, were engraven by
some poor predecessors words of despair, epigrams of
cynic rage, sketches, some solemn in their tragic mean-
ing, others as caricatures still more painful as the voices

^A^M

THE DAYS OF LUTHER, 166

of half-Idiotic merriment. There were inscriptions of
all languages and letters, in shape of every country.

" Signor," said the Marchese, calmly, " who are my
accusers, and of what am I accused ? "

" I know nothing, my lord," returned the officer ;
and then, with a profound bow of courtesy, he retired,
leaving his prisoner to himself.

But the prisoner had but a few hours' time either to
arrange his miserable room, or to indulge his thoughts.
He was seated upon a low, broken settle, just begin-
ning to battle with his mingled anxieties, when the
door of his cell opened, and there entered a figure
clothed in dark serge, with his cowl drawn over his
face, a rude cord bound across his loins, a common
crucifix and still coarser beads hanging on it, his feet
bare.

" Follow," said his sepulchral voice. ^^ Follow."

The Marchese now, for the first time in his long and
warrior life, had to feel the questionings of duty and of
right. Hitherto, he had never been called to debate
between them. But the former feeling triumphed^ and
he followed with all calmness.

He crossed the threshold of his cell; he mounted
those steps which he had so recently and with such
vague anxieties descended ; he, while thus moving, felt
called upon to recollect and rebrace his energies, and he
did so.

The hall, to which his sinister conductor led him,
was very near at hand ; yet was not so near, but that
in walking thither the Marchese could call consecu-

166 COUNT abensberg; ob^

tively before his memory those facts to which his late
presentiment gaye an importance that was most special

That chamber was not a particularly large one. It
was so dark^ however, that even if he had had the
power to scan it, it would have remained in mystery.
At first, the Marchese saw nothing but sundry lamps
burning in front of a raised tribunal. Then his eye
followed their glare and caught the high-vaulted ceil-
ing, on which were drawn, in fresco, all those ill omens
of the final Judgment that were well fitted to appal a
criminal. Miserably little-minded were these hollow
devices of a State that found that the terror of truth
was inappropriate because its own hands dared not
wield truthful weapons.

Behind the lamps — they had placed these lights
before them, the more to throw themselves into the
relief of darkness — behind the lamps, there sat four
men, habited in black, and wearing masks as black.

To the great surprise of the Marchese, all the four
commissioners rose, so soon as he had advanced near
enough to confront them.

The veteran soldier returned their courtesy, but his
soldier's bearing, so unbending, yet so full of possessed
homage to the claims of civil life, was a fine contrast
to that of the deliberate and calculating hypocrisy of
his judges.

" Will your lordship be seated ? " said the chairman
blandly ; *^ we iare but the servants of the Holy See,
and would, therefore, pray your lordship's pardon for
thus solicitinc: an interview."

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 167

** I can standi Monsignore," returned tbe Marchese
(his keen instinct had penetrated the mask) — " I can
stand, Monsignore : I sit with companions only."

" Resistance^ note you down, Crucellio," said a young
voice from one of the masked faces, to a secretary
who sat beneath the tribunal pen-in-hand.

The dark mask of the chairman shot forth two beams
of light from the orifices that had been left open for
his eyes, and a voice of unduly eager remonstrance
cried, —

"Patience, patience, brother I"

"Your lordship much mistakes us and our com-
mission," said the same voice courteously, " if you dis-
dain our fellowship. Our orders are but to seek your
lordship's aid in finding out the Duke d'Urbino's ma-
chinations, both past and present, against our Sove-
reign PontiflF."

" Then, and for that purpose, why question me ?
why so insult a soldier and a general of the Koman
States as, before his trial even, to tear him from the
presence of his host, and, in the midst of Koman
nobles, to bear him to the dungeon of one con-
demned?"

" Tbe eager, presumptuous zeal of oflScers,^' returned
the judge. " This court prays your pardon, my Lord
Marchese, and will instantly avenge your honour."

"I want nothing. Signer," replied the Marchese,
with cold, bitter haughtiness, "but instant — yes, in-
stant release, and then your apologies I may judge of
and determine."

168 COUNT arensbebg; ob,

"At Urbino?" inquired one of them with caustic
impertinence.

It was some few seconds before the Marchese deigned
an answer.. It was obvious^ from the expression of
his countenance, that his first impulse was indignantly
to throw back the insult, for so foreboded the sudden
crimson spots upon his cheeks, and the kindling of
his ey.e. But these soon gave place to a smile that
was as thoughtful as it was contemptuous ; and it was
plain that he was feeling that his dignity would be
compromised, should he lend himself to a fight so un-
equal.

" Signori," at length he said, and with a firm
voice, " either you have brought me hither under
some foully-forged authority, in which case I shall
hold me truly to avenge such insolence; or you have
brought me hither by the direction of his Holiness : in
that case, your duty is to question, but not to taunt ;
my duty is to answer, but nought more."

"Secretary, read the depositions against the pri-
soner," said the chairman : " this hall was never built
for bandying recriminations. Proceed, sir."

**Your Excellency but lately called this meeting
a companionship," said the Marchese calmly; ^^you
have now unveiled your purpose in calling me a
prisoner."

"Proceed!" cried the chairman fiercely, evidently
stung with chagrin at his detection.

The Marchese proudly folded his arms and listened,
as the secretary deposed, —

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 169

**That the Marchese della Scala^ on the oaths of
Francesco Sfforta, Bartolomeo Mancini^ and Gasparo
of Siena, had often, during the late campaign against
the Duke d'Urbino, indulged in factious language
against his Holiness, and had thus disheartened the
troops under his command, in their movements against
the enemy ; that the Marchese, on his return to Rome,
and after the aforesaid Duke d'Urbino had been de-
feated, had maintained a correspondence with him,
though the Duke, meanwhile, was loud in his vows
of vengeance upon the Holy Father; that the Mar-
chese had held frequent and secret meetings with
the Cardinals Petrucci, de Sauli, and Adrian; and,
on oath, the above-named witnesses charge the Mar-
chese della Scala to have been an agent of the
Duke d'Urbino, and to have beguiled their Enii-
nences into a complicity with the designs of the
Duke d'Urbino-"

It had been difficult to determine, from the changes
of the Marchese's countenance, what were his varying
thoughts and feelings while these depositions were
being read. The concluding ones, however, were very
patent. And they were those of grave sorrow and
concern. He saw immediately with what treacherous
skill the informations had been laid ag^nst him. He
saw how, whilst in his love of truth he should have
to make admissions to sundry of the above points of
allegation, it would be plausibly inferred that he was
guilty of them all.

Has your lordship listened?" asked the president.

t(

170 COUNT ABEHSBEBG; OK,

*' I have, M(»i8ignore.''

" And what defence have you to offer ?"

'^ Take the articles of accusation seriatim, asd I will
reply to each," returned the Afarchese.

**Nay — never!" interposed the other judge, whose
interference had before been so malicious and ill-
timed ^^ Guilty or not guilty upon all the counts, my
lord?"

" Guilty to none, in so far as guilt can be con-
cerned," replied the prisoner. " Let the voice that has
so often fawned upon and flattered me, and the month
that has often feasted in n>y halls, prejudge me if they
treacherously will."

This the Marchese added with horror, as he detected,
in his malicious questioner's voice, one who had been
his parasite, and had often eaten of his salt

*^ We want but truth and justice, Lord della Scala,"
said another of the judges mildly. Hitherto he had
spoken nothing. His voice was broken — ^it betokened
age. What was the Marchese's feeling when that voice
recalled an old and long vindictive foe I

" We want but truth and justice — the counts shall
be taken seriatim. Prisoner, did you or did you not,
during your last campaign, inveigh against the war
policy of his Holiness ? Did you or did you not in-
duce, by those your murmurs, disaffection and half-
heartedness among your troops?"

^^ That I disapproved of a war for so mean a purpose
as the aggrandizement of the young Lorenzo, God's
fear must keep me from denying. Further, I admit

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 171

that men who called themselves my bosom friends
shared in my confidence about it — the curse of abused
friendship be upon the traitor I but that one soldier in
the host knew of it — that one soldier lost his vigour
because of it — I defy such traitor to his teeth to
prove."

" Prisoner," demanded the same hostile voice, '* you
have heard the allegation that you have maintained
correspondence with the Duke d'Urbino, since he has
been in arms against his Holiness. Guilty, or not
guilty?"

"Never did I receive one line from his Highness
— never did I write one line to him, whilst he was
in arms against the Pontifi^," replied the Marchese
firmly.

*^ But that is no answer, my L(wrd Marchese," said
his first persecutor. " The question is — Whether or
no you have corresponded with his Highness since he
was in arms against his Holiness, and while you know
his vows of vengeance upon your Sovereign."

The Marchese did not hesitate, although he saw the
insidiousness of the question.

" We have corresponded, but only after that his
Highness was reconciled to the Holy See ; and as to
his personal feelings to the Pontiff, he never told me
them. His father was my oldest friend."

" Humph ! and though his Highness may not have
told you of his disaffection, yet you must have heard
of it I And yet you corresponded t " said the malicious
retorter.

172 COUNT abensbebg; os,

" I knew of the Duke's unforgivingness from your-
selforAj^ returned the Marchese boldly.

^^ Again, and kstly," said the president, as if he had
heard nothing of this fresh recrimination, ** it is sworn
that you held secret meetings with the Cardinab
Petrucci, de Sauli, and Adrian, and that you beguiled
them into their infamous conspiracy. Guilty, or not
guilty, my Lord Marchese ? "

" Let the scars upon my forehead— let this wounded
arm plead my fealty to the State. If they are power-
less to defend me, I need answer nothing."

** Fealty to the State — to the State ! Mark you the
emphasis the prisoner lays upon his fealty to the State,
as if in contradistinction to fealty to the Pontiff," said
his relentless persecutor, addressing his brother judges.

The judges all bowed in acquiescence with this re-
mark, and there was a pause of some few minutes,
during which they conferred together.

The Marchese still proudly declined a seat, and
stood, his arms still folded; preserving a countenance
open, unblanched, and so dignified that it was even
free from a trace of irritation.

" Marchese della Scala," said the president, " the
Court requires a more specific answer to the last count
of accusation. They would know more definitely,
whether or no you held secret meetings with those
aforenamed unhappy members of the Sacred College ;
they invite you also to confess all and everything.
And confession and penitence, believe U6, are the safest
for your lordship."

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 173

'^ You have already had my honest and truthful
answer, Signori : and if threescore years devoted to the
wars of the Church ; if my estates, half-ruined in her
service ; if these wounds from her foes plead not satis-
factorily for my loyalty, I can say no more.'*

The secretary — on a sign from the bench — rang an
iU-omened silver bell, and, shortly after, large curtains,
behind the Marchese and in front of the judges, were
withdrawn. The sudden jar of the curtain-rings upon
one another, made the Marchese turn back his head,
and he perceived, in the recess, several pulleys, and
his quick eye and collected mind could observe that
each had iron weights of different sizes lying beneath
them. He saw also a bright burning brazier, with
tongs adjoining; a rack, with cords and windlasses
carefully adjusted; and a dark-looking villain, with
his sleeves tucked up over his red, brawny arms, wait-
ing his attitude, and with a gleam of ferocious pleasure
upon his countenance.

" They are only our successors in the questioning,"
said the judge that had so often striven to annoy the
Marchese by his taunts. ** Perchance your lordship
may give them a reply more categorical than you have
deigned to give to us."

In truth, we cannot say that the heart of the noble
veteran did not, for some moments, quail at these
dreadful apparitions. Wounds, honourable wounds,
he had often welcomed, coming, as they did in fair
fight, and with no foul hand, but only the bright steel
or the cold iron touching his person.

174 COUKT ABEKSBEB6; OB,'

''Wliich of all these questioners — these ourselves, or
those yonder, would you prefer, my lord ? " asked the
president; and his tones were even moumM.

What would have been the reply of the noble
prisoner, we must leave our readers to conjecture ; for,
before there was time to answer, the hall-doors were
thrown widely open, and then entered the Cardinal
* * * *. That it was he, and none other, was
evident. He had thrown off the large, dark mantle
with which he had shrouded his person while hurrying
through the streets of Bome, and now stood before the
judges in those very vestments in which he had been
clothed for the recent entertainment.

The startling surprise of the Marchese was not
greater than that which the law-officers apparently
exhibited. But, while the prisoner contented himself
with silence, and could only interpret, from this appa-
rition, that the Cardinal had impeached him and
come thither only to consummate his treason, the
judges, one and all, lent themselves to words of
wonder, nay, some of them to words of remon-
strance, at an infraction upon the sanctity of the
Court.

'" I admit it fully," said the Cardinal, when they had
finished, "that such proposed interference, on my
part, with the course of justice is, apparently, most
reprehensible ; and, while these appearances are against
me, I very humbly crave your pardon, Eccelenzi.'*

" Then your Eminence proposes to interfere ! — and
with the jurisdiction of the Holy Father I " exclaimed

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 175

the judge whose rugged hostility to the Marchese was
no secret.

" The Holy Virgin forbid I " returned the Cardinal
^* I presume on nothing, save to submit to your High
Mightinesses what may facilitate your justice."

The Marchese^ at these words, felt more confirmed
than ever in the hideous truth of his suspicions, and
was bravely waiting for some fresh, unblushing act of
perjury ; when, what was his astonishment, as the Car-
dinal continued, —

" My lords, I have been, as you well know, absorbed
this evening with the rites of hospitality. Would that
your grave and sudden duties had allowed you to have
used them I But this night was shorn - of its bril-
liancy so soon as I lost yon noble prisoner as my
guest, and heard of his impeachment. Deign to pardon
me, Eccelenzi, that I have fled hither to assist a friend
in his defence, if his innocence needs defence at all."

The Marchese did not breathe more freely, for all
this.

^'Does your Eminence know the grounds of the
impeachment of the prisoner at the bar?" asked the
president.

"Nay, good sooth, my lord," returned the Car-
dinal, smiling. " There may be grounds for impeach-
ment, if courage and frankness, instead of cowardice
and chicanery, be criminal."

" Your Eminence, so far, does the ancient foe of my
house no more than justice,'^ replied the Marchese's
avowed enemy upon the bench, "And God grant

176 coinrr abensbebg; ob,

that there be proof that in thu only he be cnnunal;
for, at Rome, to be brave and truthful is a crime !
But," added he, ''ere your Eminence becomes a war-
rant for the innocence of the accused, you should know
the depositions ; and forgive my sayii^ my Lord Car-
dinal, it brooks not the Court's dignity to submit them
even to your Eminence.''

**I have been wrong, perhaps very wrong, Sig-
nori; I dare ask for no irregularities, even for my
friend. But, assuredly, you will suffer me thus far to
proclaim my sympathy with this noble prisoner."

The Marchese was moved at this, and began to ac-
cuse himself as ungenerous.

''Your Eminence is too kind, and, pardon me, too
unsuspicious in your kindness," said the judge whose
tauntings have been so often noticed.

" Will your Excellencies hear my prayer that yonder
questionings be postponed," asked the Cardinal, with
apparent earnestness, " and will you suffer me to have
access to the prisoner? Be he guilty of whatsoever
he is accused, perchance my influence may anticipate
the need of what your own souls revolt at ; should I
fail, then, I shall only have to weep over the fall of a
degraded friend."

The Court conversed long and earnestly, but in a
tone so low as to be inaudible to either the Marchese
or the Cardinal. At length they closed the con-
ference.

*' May it please your Eminence," said the president,
" your deep interest in the prisoner — your avowed con-

(THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 177

victionB in his fevour-your own exalted rank-your
judgment — ^all these sway the Court. The Marchese
shall be remitted, but our duty forces us to keep his
person within the fortress. Your Eminence may have
every facility of approach to him. And we will do
ourselves the honour soon to apprize you when we
resume the trial."

VOL. I. K

178 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OB,

CHAPTER XIX.

It will have been indirectly inferred by our readers^
that the late scene between the Marchese and his
judges was chiefly owing to some contrivance of the
Cardinal The truth was — his passion for Bianca ex-
acted all his powers of sagacity and intrigue, in order
to devise fresh and more powerful means whereby to
sway her in his favour. His last temptation had,
as we have seen, failed most signally. He had thus
come to be convinced that no allurements of plea-
sure, or of flattery, or of wealth, were of avaiL And
she had proved herself equally superior to all threats.
He had, therefore, and with consummate skilly re-
solved to wield her affection for her father — that
affection which he had often observed to hold a supre-
macy in her heart. Could he but place that parent's
life in jeopardy ; could he but, meanwhile, bring her,
the haughty beauty, a& a suppliant to himself, on that
parent's behalf; could he but luU her into insuspicion
and artless confidence by his own skilful and apparently
repentant withdrawal of his own suit ; could he but
obtain frequent interviews with her as means necessary

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 179

for the defence and deliverance of her father^ and de-
ceive her as to the sincerity of his efforts, — then,
thought he, I may win her heart : let me but be satis-
fied of that, and I can easily protect him ; be she still
obdurate, and then — then I

We need not wonder that, at this period, the courts
of justice were as corrupt at Borne as were all its
other classes of society. Without the aid of history
we might be sure that wherever a body politic has
sunk into criminal license, then either the administra-
tion of law, having previously become impure, has
given birth to the immorality of the people ; or,
supposing the people to have become previously
immoral from other causes, the administration of
law will be almost sure to sympathize. This will
happen even in states where the functionaries of
justice arc at the appointment of the subjects,
and where eveu hypocrisy, which often guides a
guilty individual to assume indignation at all crime,
might cause the Public to hide its shame beneath the
ermine purity of the Bench. But at Bome, where all
legal offices were in the hands of ecclesiastics, it was
impossible that they should not lend their high powers
to subserve or defend the conventional interests of the
Church.

And the Cardinal knew all this; nay more, he
had often used it. He had been the means of
placing upon that bench, before which the Marchese
had been summoned, several of his own creatures —
one, especially ; and that one it was whose intem-

180 CODHT AXEHEBEBO; (W,

paste foncaidBem bad been so near mtTeiHi^ an
intzigae.

Nerertbelea, tlmre wtxe several drcnmstaDees tlwt
bade the Cardinal be waiy aa to bow be used this in-
strnment in bie de^ns i^aiiut Bianca and the Mar-
cbeae. Tbe &ct whidi we bave joat moitioned, of the
beedleBB malioe of one judge, i^^ti if not watded
md controlled, inoravouently nnmaek the pnrport *^
the wbf^. And then, another of tbe judges — that
<Hie of whose declared hostility to the Mazchese we
have qxAeo — ^wmb well known as an ezc^ttion to Ids
brethren, for high hoooar and int^rity. It was sure
of him, that the mon deadly he had sworn himself aa a
file, the more rigi^y would he in^st upon the rectitiide
le laws of combaL

f both these hazards the Cardinal had taken a
)erate acooanL Taking care to confide bat little
ay of the jodges save to his above deeply-compro-
id creature, he bad sabomed witnesses to charges,
e of wluch were half true, whilst the rest were
! ; he bad well craicerted the place — the hour — of
seizare of the Marchese ; with the utmost accurate
mapped out, for ^e direction ol the subordinates,
very road through which the accused should
conducted to St. Aagelo, and the dungeon thafr
lid be qiedally asdgned him; the counts of
gation, and the order in which they ^onld be
need ; the hour when the Court should assemble ;
period to which, through the artifices of his agents,
trial should be jwotracted; and, finally, that scene

THE DATS OP LUTHEB. 181

of threatened torture in which he engaged himself to
interfere.

No sooner had Bianca frantically left his palace,
on the night of his grand fSte, terrified at both his
conduct to herself and at the danger of her father,
than the Cardinal repaired back to his guests.
The perfect mastery that he held over his coun-
tenance, had subdued even the flush that had arisen
from his late excitement ; and calmly, and with a
skill that deceived those around him into the belief
that he was wholly absorbed in contributing to
their pleasure, he discharged every duty of hospi-
tality.

But his mind was ill at ease. Cautious and well-
trained scouts brought him constant notice when the
trial was approaching. Often, oh ! how often, did he
watch the time as it appeared too rapidly to approach
the hour of the trial, and the assembly had shown no
signs of breaking up! Yet must he betray no im-
patience — must still smile as blandly — ^must talk, with
all readiness, and variety, and self-possession I And
should they not retire in time I Should his agents fail
in protracting the assize I Should the indignant Mar-
chese goad some of the other judges into inflicting
summary torture! Should his brave heart burst
with rage and fury at such dishonour 1 Then —
then, where would be his power over the orphan
daughter?

But the evil fates were propitious for that night, and
hb breast heaved with reUef when he bade the last of

182 couHT areksbkbg; ob.

Ids gnesto sffieu, tnd found that diere was yet time for
action*

We hare seen how lie emplojed it. Bot we most
retom again to Kanca.

THE DATS OF LUTHEB.

CHAPTER XX.

As we have stated in the earlier part of our tale, Father
Francis had lefit the presence of the Ladj Bianoa with
the proniiBe to do his utmost to procure for her an order
of admission to her father ; now that she was left
alone with Theresa, her soul so overwrought sought
vent in passionate weeping.

" TeQ me, dear lady," said her bumble friend, as ehe
sat down upon a low stool, that was beside the couch.
" Oh I teU your fwtbful Theresa aH"

Bianca hesitated. "Would it be prudent to say
more ? Had she not already," she bethought herself,
*' said too much ?"

But the human heart, especially the young heart
seeks for a soothing balm in the sympathy of friendshif:
and often the more readily when that friendship is
long-tried one. And we have seen how tender, hov
confiding, must have been that between Theresa am
Bianca.

" I can trust you, dear Theresa ; that I know. Yoi
are faithful and discreet, not one of those babblisj
maidens who betray a confidence by their anxiety t<
prove they have been trusted."

184 couirr abensbebg; ob,

" Trust me, noble lady ? What power, what torture
oould tear finom jour poor Theresa anything to the
prejudice of your interests ?"

The two sat in unbroken silence for many a minute ;
Theresa waiting anxiously, while Bianca seemed to
be revolying a variety of plans, and as each one of
them was discarded as hopeless, looks of disappointment
clouded her brow.

At length she cried^ *' I have it — yes, I have it.
Dear Theresa I let me take some few hours* rest. Gain
it, if it be possible, I must, for my ficither's sake ; for
mind and body— every power of them both I shall want
to-morrow. Yes, and to-morrow, early and di3guise4,
we will seek for Messer Agostino Chigi. My father has
surely a firiend in him. And who, firom his boundless
wealth, has greater influence with the Pope ? I will
advise with him; he can obtain me admission to my
father's dungeon."

"Yes, he can," returned Theresa; **and «ven if he
should fail, he can influence another, who can succeed
with Leo, if any human being can. But why talk of
the Chip's influence ? The great Bafiaello cannot re-
sist beauty such as yours, if you but ask him to obtain
an audience with the Pope, and beg this favour. If re-
port speaks truly, Leo holds this glorious painter in
more regard than he does the whole Sacred College put
together. Try our great Raffiiello's power, dear lady.
Try it.. I will watch by you here, and at early dawn
we will to the Chigi's princely palace."

" Nay, good Theresa, but you must sleep also," re^

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 185

plied Bianca. " We can do nought to-night ; and both
of us will need all our eneigies to-morrow. Nothing
shall be left untried."

The cautious Theresa had long before dismissed
Bianca's handmaiden^ and now set , herself to unrobe
her mistress, who, standing before a beautiful Vene-
tian mirror which adorned the sleeping apartment,
was removing the rich robes and jewels, and un-
£B»tening the rubies and emeralds from the hair,
which when displaced gave to view the long silken
tresses that, in their fall, nearly covered Bianca's form.
A loose robe of white flowered silk, with hanging
eleeves, was then presented. Ejieeling, Bianca took
from Theresa's hands a carved rosary, and then, though
worn and weary, offered up all her evening prayers
with a fervour full of anguish, and which felt that its
only hope lay, not in her own wisdom, but in the aid

of God.

After a time she rose from her knees, and finding
Theresa, whom she had begged to retire to rest in an
adjoining apartment, stUl sitting by the side of a
small couch, of classic form — everything after the
antique was then the fashion in Borne — she again
urged her faithftil attendant to seek repose. But
Theresa was pertinacious, yet respectful, in refusing.

'^ I will sleep in this chair, dear lady, for we must
start for the Chigi palace at the earliest dawn, if we
would avoid observation. Pray let me stay here, and
Bleep cm this comfortable seat."

Biaofia was^ at last, obliged to yield ; and throwing

186 couirr abensbebg; ob^

herself upon her own couch, she — ^but not tiU after some
time of wakefuhiefls — obtained a few hours of distarbed
and broken sleep. Visions of sorrow passed before her
mind's eye — ^visions of her &tfaer in a dungeon — ^visions
of her father under torture, and, at last, in death. She
dreamed, that she saw him first strangled, and then his
body predpitated into the Tiber. So painfully aliye
was her conception, that she saw the dread process of
strangulation as it advanced — ^the swollen yeins^ the
convulsed features, the eyes starting from their sockets.
Then she heard the dull, leaden plash of the body,
as it fell heavily in the yellow, slimy river; and the
lazy waters seemed incapable of even a ripple as they
crept onward.

With a scream she started up : —

** Oh, God! they have murdered — murdered him ! "

** Nay, nay, dear lady, it is but a dream," returned
Theresa, soothingly. She had already risen, and had
been watching the disturbed features of the sleeper.

Bianca gazed wildly at her attendant, and, at first,
could not understand her words ; but slowly returning
consciousness showed her where she was.

^^ Yes, it is but a dream," she repeated, almost me-
chanically. " God and the Holy Virgin he thanked !
it is but a dream. And now, then," she exclaimed^
springing from her couch, '* now, then, Theresa, let ufl
be up and doing, to prevent this fearful vision from
becoming a reality."

^^ Yet stay!" she added, holding her hands upon her
forehead ; ^' what was arranged last night ? Oh I to go

THE DATS OF LUTHEIL 187

to the Chigi and implore his intercession with the
Pope! Theresa^ how can we best reach his palace,
and attract no notice ? It would not be fair to involve
him in the suspicion which the visit of an accused
conspirator's daughter would create."

^ I have been thinking of it all, dear lady," replied
Theresa; **and if you would but order two mules to
be saddled, we in black masks — such as, you know,
were conunon among Roman ladies in the gay days of
the Borgias — and enveloped in conunon mantles, shall,
at this early hour, avoid all observation. The distance
is not far."

Theresa, having liastily assisted her to dress, sum-
moned the faithM old seneschal, who had passed a
sleepless night, and was up-— as are most Italians — at
the earliest dawn. Theresa, we say, summoned him to
his mistress's withdrawing-room.; and then Bianca re-
vealed to the good old man the arrest of the Mar-
chese, her fixed determination to obtain leave to see
him, and her intention of proceeding, at once, to the
princely merchant, in order to gain his powerful aid to
procure this boon.

The old seneschal entered calmly into the plan, and
only urged his being allowed to accompany them, lest
they should meet with any insults or obstructions from
any gay gaUants who might be returning from their
revels of the midnight.

To this Bianca immediately assented, and all being
soon arranged, they started, mailed with black domi-
noes and veiled, for that splendid palace of Agostino

188 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OB,

Chigi, now called the Famenna. Thelitde party had a
ooDsideiable round to take in order to avoid the bridge
acroes the Tiber; and their time was sadly taken up
before they could gain and pass the ferry ; but at last,
safely and, as they hi^ed, without detection, they
pressed onward.

J

THE BATS OF LUTHEB. 189

CHAPTER XXL

Whilst Bianca is approaching the house of him whose
advocacy with Pope Leo she is about to solicit^ we
would seize the interval of depicting his character and
position.

Agostino Chigi was one of those men of whom, as
a class^ though individually peculiar in his high aris-
tocratic relationship, Lorenzo de Medici was the head
in great mercantile pursuits. At the period of our
tale, the commerce of Italy bore as pre-eminent an
attitude as that which Great Britain does now in
Europe ; this being the one single difference : that her
merchants were princes in refinement, in enlightened
patronage of the sciences and arts, and often in per-
sonal acquirements as well as in wealth. But many
as they were in number, and distinguished as they
were in action, not one approached, in rivalry, to
Agostino Chigi. Arising partly from his own great
commercial talents, and partly from several accidental
advantages, such as the salt monopolies which he had
obtained at Borne, he became one of the wealthiest

190 COUNT asensbebg; oii»

men of Europe. To him the French monarch, Charles
Vlll., oonld have recourse for loans, and find his
resources adequate. From him the Holy See itself
had often to obtain large and opportune assistance.
And many a time, both before his attainment of the
Papal Chair and afterwards, had Leo X. the comfort
of falling back upon his purse.

This, however, whether we regard it as conferring
upon him political influence^ or as binding the Holy
Father to him in the claims of grateftd obligation, was
even less in its power than the authority which he
had secured by his wise and most munificent conduct
towards men of learning and of taste. The revival
of Greek literature found him with a bosom full of
sympathy : to him we owe the first printed edition of
Pindar. By his sumptuous taste the skill of Bal-
dassare Peruzzi (the Raffaello of architecture) was
fostered, giving birth,, by the warmth of his patronage,
to various palaces and churches, among the former
of which his own special house, the Famesina, was
not the least. And to add to all, not even the costly
friendship of Pope Leo towards Raffaello himself ex-
ceeded that of this great Siennese merchant, whose
walls were adorned by the Psyche and Gralatea of the
inimitable painter.

There are but few historians who charge Leo X
with littleness, in the form of jealousy, in political
competition. There are none who charge him with
it in regard to science or to art. On these points,
if he ever showed his individuality, it was on the side

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 191

of fair and honest intellectual ambition. The dis-
coverer of an antique became his fiiend for ever.
And in this fraternity of letters and art, it was not
strange that Agostino Chigi should be one of his best
beloved companions. It is easj^, therefore, to imagine
how potent in influence upon the mind of his Holiness
must have been that voice which might on one day
be charming him with congratulations about the dis-
covery of the Laocoon, Mid, on another day, might
be assuring him of the means to gratify his favourite
tastes, or carry out his political schemes.

Were this the place, we might descant much upon
the example which a great merchant offered to all who,
in similar pursuits of gain, might strive to emulate him.
And it would be no unfair test on which to argue,
that the highest, and best, and most politic aim of
wealthy men, who would gain a standing in the world's
aristocracy far above that which, by any possibility,
they could have inherited, is, not simply to accumulate
wealth, and then to expend it in displays that vanish
in their using, but to seek, as did Agostino Chigi, to
transmute their gold into the inconvertible but im-
mortal marble; to purchase with it not the Tyrian
dyes that must fade, but the ever-living hues of the
inspired easel; and far above all this, to erect for
themselves monuments in great works which have for
their object chiefly God's glory, and the benefit of
mankind.

On their reaching the Famesina Palace, the old
seneschal summoned the porter, and, having ascertained

193 COUNT ABBK8BEB0; OB,

that its master was already risen, bade Um announce
that the Lady Bianca della Scala desired to speak
with him. The porter returned quickly and erayed
her pardon, in his master's name, for conducting her
to some distant offices, instead of to an audience-
chamber.

'^ My master, lady, is engaged in watching the print-
ing-press which he has had erected in the house, and
prays that you will honour him with your presence
there.''

As we have said above, the Chigi was earning the
gratitude of posterity by his princely patronage of
letters. On this morning of our tale, he was deeply
absorbed in the printed sheets of Theocritus as they
came out in succession from his press; and knowing
well the cultivated and inquiring tastes of his young
friend, he aimed both to gratify her with the sight and,
at the same time that he gave her an interview, to
avoid leaving off his beloved pursuit.

Bianca, as we may well imagine, with her mind full
of sad presentiments about her father's fate, would
have much preferred seeing the Chigi alone and enter-
ing immediately upon her suit ; but, after pausing for
a moment, she assented, and declared herself ready,
leaving Theresa to follow the servant.

She reflected that the Chigi was an enthusiast in
this one of his favourite pastimes, and that to show
an interest in it would enlist his sympathies in her
behalf. Nor did she wish to excite observation as
to the cause of her early visit ; for she hoped that

i

THE DAYS OF LUTH£B. 193

as yet, the arrest of the Marchese was known to those
only who were immediately concerned.

Bianca followed the conductor through several of the
galleries and corridors of this splendid palace to one
end of it, and striking was the scene that then pre-
sented itself. A door, when opened, gave to view the
Chigi in a dress of black velvet, his fine features lit up
with enthusiasm and delight, as the printer, kneeling,
was showing to him and to the accomplished scholar
by his side, the clear and beautiful impressions of the
edition of Theocritus. The art of printing, though
then comparatively in its infancy, was carried to
great perfection as to correctness in the Chigi's
press; and no one, pretending to scholarship, will
question that the edition of Pindar which the Chigi
had printed two years before is one of the most cor-
rect in existence.

" Will the Lady Bianca come near and behold one of
the triumphs of inventive genius?*' said the princely
merchant, after he had welcomed her to his house in all
the terms of the refined courtesy of the age. ^^ It is in
the advance of science and the arts I feel that the
wealth I owe to God and the Holy Father is, indeed, a
boon. See what skill and care have produced," he con-
tinued, holding up the clear and beautiful type. "I
am about to take this to-day to the Holy Father.
How he will delight to see Theocritus in this new
form ! Happy Bome ! to have a Sovereign, as well as
Christian Bishop, who has so true a sympathy with
all that learning, literature, and taste can produce.

VOL. I. o

194 COUNT AB3BNSBEBG; OB^

Surely the future will regard him as the creator of ^
second Augustan age.

**And now, lady," he resumed, *'I will show you
our Saffaello's last glorious design. I sometimes feel
my abode too highly honoured by its being thus con-
secrated by the works of genius."

Agostino then led the way to that part of the palace
which is immortalized for containing some of Kaffaello's
most exquisite creations. He paused at the entrance,
and, on knocking, he received answer from two of
BafFaello's pupils, who were filling up some part de-
signed by the great painter, that Kaffaello had been at
the Cardinal's f6te, and had not appeared that morn-
ing — ^nay, that it was uncertain if he would be there
that day.

"Ah!" said the Chigi, *^what diflSculty I have in
inducing him to continue his work, though I have fitted
up a noble suite of apartments for him I But," he
added, for the first time perceiving (such had been bis
pre-occupation) the sad and altered appearance of his
young favourite, '* why looks the Lady Bianca so sad
and careworn amid glorious works of art, that are of a
character to make one gay ? and now I think of it, to
what am I indebted for this early visit ?"

" I would speak to Messer Chigi alone," said Bianca^
mournfully 5 " I come to ask a favour from you."

*^ A favour I nay," said Agostino ; ^ I know no
favour which the Lady Bianca could ask, and I not
feel it a high honour to grant; for I acknowledge
devotion to the cause of elegance and beauty, real or

. THE DATS OP LUTHEB. 195

ideal — always excepting," he added, in a lower tone,
as a rumour which he had almost forgotten (it was of
so unauthorized a character) suddenly recurred to his
memory — "always excepting what might he inconsis-
tent with my duty to his Holiness and the State."

'* May I speak to you in private, good Messer
Chigi ? " asked Bianca, imploringly. " I will not de-
tain you long from your glorious pursuits; and may
you many years be spared, the munificent friend of
science and the fine arts ! "

** Many thanks, fair lady," he replied ; *^ you would
confer with me alone. Let me then conduct you to
where we shall be free from interruption."

He then led the way to a magnificent studio, adorned
with many a gem of sculptured vase and excavated
urn; for, like his great patron Leo, he watched the
excavations then going on amid the ruins of Rome,
and was always ready, with princely munificence, to
purchase a genuine antique that might be discovered.
And yet was he too discriminating a connoisseur, not
to detect all fraudulent manufacturers of antiquities
who then, as well as now, abounded throughout
Europe. Rich were the carved bookcases, containing
printed volumes, manuscripts illuminated, and missals.
The tesselated floor was in imitation of the ancient
Mosaic

But Bianca heeded nought.

** You have not then heard," she said, as soon as —
the door being closed — she found herself alone with
the Chigi, and took the seat he offered her — " you

196 COUNT abeksbebg; ob,

have not then heard that your friend, my fiitber, was,
last night, arrested by the Pope's order, while at the
Cardinal's palace."

'' What ! the Marchese arrested ! and by the orders
of his Holiness! And for what, dear lady?" he ex-
claimed. All his former happy placidity of manner
fled, and his eye became eager and anxious.

^' Alas I that he was arrested is too true. I was
beside him at the fete, when, by stratagem, they tore
him &om me. And for what I know not exactly ; save
from the rumour that he is charged with having
been an accomplice in the late conspiracy."

^' But you believe him innocent," said the merchant,
fixing his keen and searching eyes upon Bianca.
'' Fear not, dear lady ; his Holiness, you know, is
clement even to the guilty. He will be sure to vindi-
cate the falsely accused."

" As innocent of all part in the plot, or of any sinis-
ter intentions towards the Holy Father, as you are your-
self, Messer Chigi. My unhappy father knew some of
the conspirators well, and they have been in his housOi
and they may have uttered discontent with some part of
Leo's rule. You are aware that, in the army, the Pope's
irregular and uncertain payment has been a cause of
many murmurs. As to knowledge of some of the con-
spirators, you know weD, Messer Chigi, that to be in-
timate with these Princes of the Church was but lately
accounted a high honour. I have internal evidence —
satisfactory to my own mind (but, alas I I know not
that it would be satisfactory to others) — that my father

THE DATS Ot LUTHEB. 197

knew nothing of the plot against his Holiness. I must
obtain some evidence of this my firm conviction from
himself, that it may be alleged before the Pontiff. For
this purpose I must see my father, and it is to crave
your assistance to obtain this boon that you see me
here thus early. Dear Messer Chigi, will you intercede
with the Pontiff for me ? You, I know well, are all-
powerful with him ; for I have often heard my father,
and others well-informed, say that Pope Leo could not
carry on his multifarious political schemes, or even his
munificent patronage of the arts, without your loans."

" Nay, nay," replied the Chigi, " you greatly over-
rate my influence. I am but a poor banker merchant,
and to his Holiness's gracious favour, and that of other
princes, I owe the little wealth (greatly exaggerated,
I believe) which I possess. It may be that Leo, being
himself a Medici, whose princes are merchants also,
and finding in me some congenial tastes in art and
literature, has, with a royal condescension, overlooked
the immeasurable distance between us, and treated me
with friendship. But," he added, " I must not pre-
sume upon this favour. And, further. Lady Bianca,
I am informed that the Pontiff naturally looks with
suspicion on all who in any way implicate themselves in
this vile conspiracy, even by pleading for the conspira-
tors. Pope Leo is (and who can wonder at it ?) deeply
incensed at the bare mention of this painful subject.
It quite disturbs his customary urbanity. He alludes
to it little himself; and, therefore, little opportunity
even is offered for others to do so. I may lose his

198 COUNT abensbebg; ob,

favour for ever by so doing, and should fail to meet
your wishes, lady. No, I dare not."

The Chigi paused, and it was evident to Bianca
that, polite and courteous as he was, he wished to
excuse himself from all advocacy of her suit with Leo.
This, however, did not relax her urgency; and, con-
sidering well the cautious character of the great mer-
chant, she assumed all cahnness in endeavouring to
persuade him that to plead on her behalf could not
compromise his interests.

''Pray, hear me further, Messer Chigi. Of course
I have no right to beg you to grant me my request
to your own injury. But I cannot believe that any
disfavour from the Pontiff would befall you by so
doing. What is it you would ask? Only to allow
a daughter access to her only parent, who is in afflic-
tion and in prison 1"

"Yes," returned the Chigi; "but the strictest orders
have been issued that none, however implicated in this
foul conspiracy, should be visited by their relatives or
friends. Such has been the ban laid upon Princes of
the Church ; and think you, dear lady, that a layman
will be treated with greater leniency?"

" But my father has not been proved guilty. Only
upon suspicion has he been seized and incarcerated.
Surely he should be allowed some means to refute the
charges made against him by, probably, a malignant
enemy."

" Rely upon the justice of the Holy Father, lady/'
replied the Chigi. " My influence is not so great as

J

THE DATS OF LUl-HER. 199

you suppose. I dare not attempt erer so little to em-
ploy it."

"Oh, say not so!" returned Bianca, imploringly.
" Disparage not your power thus, dear Messer Chigi I
What is one source of it? enormous wealth — wealth
which you have never hoarded, so that it should be of
little or no use to its possessor or the world. What
cannot that effect? Anything. Does it not, as in
your own noble case, move the secret springs by which
Princes and Courts are acted on? Without it, can
political projects, be they grand, glorious, and useful —
sucl| as leave their beneficent stamp upon future ages —
or be they merely the cruel and desolating wars
often undertaken to gratify a low ambition or a fell
revenge — without wealth, can political projects such
as these be ever carried to a successful issue ? And
your power, as the wealthiest private individual in
all Europe — as the great banker of its monarchs — is
everywhere acknowledged. Even the Pontiff's favour-
ite passion, his munificent patronage of art and science
— his great attempt to consummate the sublime design
of his predecessor to raise a temple unto God, such as
neither the past nor future may ever rival — none of
these darHng purposes can he indulge without your
aid. He needs the gold you can provide him. Gold !
gold ! what can it not procure ? Through it, did not
even the haughty Julius listen and grant you much ?
1*0 you, our present Holy Father, kind and courteous
as he is, and bound to you by kindred tastes — to you
he will hearken. Oh I disparage not your power with

200 COtTNT ABBNSBEBQ; OB,

him. You have a talisman that can overcome every
difficulty. For mercy's sake! apply it to obtain ijae
my request. My request! what is it? Not to be
allowed to stifle truth and defeat justice — only that a
child may see her father I Believe me, Messer Chigi,
the day will come when not a gem that you possess^
antique or modern^ will be so dear to you as the
thought of having listened to the prayer of the un-
happy daughter of your ancient friend.

^^Ahl" she resumed eagerly^ after a short pause>
" you tell me, you are going to the Pontiff to show
him your new, costly, beautiful Theocritus ; the occa-
sion will be favourable. Plead my suit."

It was somewhat curious to observe the countenance
of the Chigi, as he listened to this urgent appeal.
When Bianca spoke of the influence which he un-
doubtedly possessed in Kome, and which not only
there but elsewhere among the princes of Europe he
had long exerted, a half smile of satisfaction stole over
his features, in spite of his late feigned humility, that
another should so forcibly assert it. But then he was
an Italian of the sixteenth century, and policy was the
leading principle of his conduct ; and he was not in-
clined to involve himself in any difficulty with the
justly-incensed and suspicious Pontifil

He remained silent for a moment, and Bianca was
beginning to feel a sanguine hope that her earnest-
ness and innocent flatteries had swayed him. Alas I
she only found that he could be coorteoud and humane*
when it cost him nothing.

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 201

'* Dear lady^ you rate the power of wealth more
highly than maidens do in generaL I deny not that
much you have said is true. But there is one who
possesses over our present Pontiff a sway far greater
than any to which I dare pretend. The divine Kaf-
faellol But get him to become your advocate. The
Pope can refuse him nothing, especially just now.
He has access at all hours to the Vatican. But get
him to become your advocate, and I will back his
pleadings with every suggestion I can offer. We may
prevail together."

** But can I," said Bianca> somewhat hesitating — *^ can
I ask of the young and gallant Baffaello a favour too
great for you, the old and tried friend of my childhood,
to grant me? Can I ask him to run any, the least,
risk of incurring, on my behalf, the Pope's displeasure ?"

" Lady," he said, solemnly, " if you hesitate, your
suit is hopeless."

^^ Then I will lay aside all scruples," she exclaimed,
hurriedly. *' How know I " — and she shuddered —
*^ but my father may already be under the torture ?
Oh I send for Baffaello, good Messer Chigi; send for
him, and I will crave his pity."

But, just at this moment, there was a slight knock at
the door of the apartment, and, on Agostino giving the
word, BaffaeUo himself entered.

" I use my privilege of entering your palace freely
and unannounced," he said, gaily : but immediately, on
perceiving Bianca, he, with a deep, courteous reve«
rence, drew backward.

202 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OB,

'' I knew not that jou were engaged, or, I am mire,
I had not intruded. Pray pardon me, fair lady, my
unintentional indiscretion. I but wished to beg you,
Messer Chigi, to come and give me your opinion on
my new design of Psyche. I will retire and wwt your
pleasure."

" Nay, leave not, my Prince of Painters,** exdaimed
the Chigi, as Raffaello was huixiedly withdrawing.
** This lady has a boon to ask of you. When you
arrived, we were consulting how to arrange an inter-
view. I will leave her to urge her own request, while
I wiU go and give some directions to my printer."

So saying, Agostino left the apartment. Bianca felt
for a while considerable confusion. She knew Raf-
faello but slightly, though they had often met at the
Pontiff's court, and in many of the gay palaces at
Kome. He was now at the zenith of his fame, and
there was a halo around that fame which has scarcely
ever been exceeded in brightness by that of any
created genius. He was the idol of his age ; not merely
beloved and honoured by the mighty Pontiff whose
familiar associate he was, but courted by the greatest
sovereigns of the age : Francis I., for instance, was
endeavouring, though vainly, to entice him to his
court, by every species of flattery and promise.

It has rarely been the happy lot of any individual
genius — during lifetime — to attain so high and un-
disputed a homage as did this great painter; nor has
posterity diminished that renown* Eaffaello is still
regarded as the greatest master of his art. His fame

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 203

-^not like that of our own Shakspeare and Milton^
which had, from small and qualified beginnings, to pass
through various vicissitudes, before it was established
on a world's unanimity — has met with no voices of
dissent.

Women are peculiarly susceptible of enthusiasm for
genius; and it was something of this feeling towards
the comparatively young and singularly handsome Raf-
faello, that made Bianca confused and silent.

" What can I do to serve you, lady? Pray deign
to tell what you would have of me ? ''

** Have you not heard. Signer," she replied, with
deep emotion — " have you not heard, Signer, that
yesternight, at the f£te of Cardinal * * * *, my father
— the Marchese della Scala — was arrested on suspicion
of having been acquainted with the late foul conspiracy
against his Holiness? They tore him thence; they
have imprisoned him, I know not where ! "

** I was at the fSte, fair lady," returned Baffaello,
with a look of generous concern, '^ and I heard nothing
of it."

** My father is innocent: for the truth of this I will
gage my life. And would that I could but see him I
not merely to afford him a daughter's solace, but to
learn what proofs of his innocence he would adduce
before his judges, and, if possible, to assist him in the
collecting witnesses in his favour : in short, to con-
sult with him. I have no claim on you. Signer; yet
such is your reputation for gracious kindness towards
all who are in distress, that I venture to implore you

204 COUNT abensbebg; or«

to use your undoubted influence with his Holiness, to
obtain for me access to my imprisoned parent."

She threw herself at his feet, and it was not in the
heart of Rafiaello to behold unmoved so beautiful and
touching a picture as that of this fair impersonation of
filial love pleading upon her knees.

Her loose and flowing robe of white flowered silk
fell in ample folds around her form, fastened at the
waist by a purple girdle, richly embroidered in gold
and wrought flowers. Her black domino she had re-
moved on entering the Chigi's palace. Her beautiful
eyes, the long lashes of which were wet with tears,
which the doubtful success of her suit with the princely
merchant had caused to start forth, though she had
made every efibrt to restrain them, were raised in
earnest supplication to the painter. The feeling, akin
to awe, which she felt at his almost universal fame,
united to her own modest confusion at pleading upon
her knees with a young man whom she knew but
slightly, for so great a boon, her fears for her father's
fate conquering, however, every other emotion — all
these gave a holy and touching expression to her coun-
tenance. Kaflaello was struck forcibly with that ex-
pression, of which afterwards he may have made use
upon his canvass.

** The love of a daughter for a parent is a holy and a
beautiful thing," he said, as if in soliloquy.

Then gracefully stepping forward, he continued,
" Rise — pray rise, dear lady. This attitude to me is,
in truth, unmeet. Forgive my asking you one solemn

J

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 205

question : you say that the Marchese is innocent.
Have you any proof of this, or is it merely your own
pious belief? The Pontiff is my generous patron — ^my
kindest, most considerate friend. In addition to the
deep abhorrence with which I, and every true son of
Holy Church, must look upon the designers of such an
awful crime as that of an attempt to murder Christ's
Vicar upon earth, I — as you must feel well assured —
could, least of all, plead for favour towards such delin-
quents."

He held forth his hand to raise her, as he spoke, and
earnestly scrutinized her features. She, however, re-
fused to rise, but met his gaze unshrinkingly.

'^I have an internal conviction of his innocence,
gracious Signer. If you ask me why, I answer — Could
the unholy plotter of such a crime sleep as calmly
as an infant? It was but lately that, overcome by
fatigue and heat, he dropped asleep, and I accidentally
approached his couch while sleeping. How peacefully
he rested! A sudden noise disturbed him. ^What,'
said he half-waking, half- asleep — * what, said I not you
will never have peace, my Lord Cardinal, if you allow
such revengeful feelings to find a place within your
bosom ? They will lead you on, in spite of your better
nature, to dark thoughts and darker purposes. A good
conscience is better than gratified revenge, my lord I '
I should add. Signer," she continued, ** that his Emi-
nence Petrucci had left our house just before my
father fell asleep, and, on this very interview between
him and the late conspirator, I hear from Father

206 COUNT ABEKSBEBO; OB,

Francis that much of the suspicion is urged against
my parent. He awoke fully as he uttered the above
words, and finding only his daughter within hearing, he
smiled so sweetly and so peacefully upon me I . • •
No dark traitor ever slept so calmly or awoke in such

fearlessness Oh I do not reject my suit,

noble BafFaello ! plead — plead for me that I may see my
father. I will not rise until you promise me 1"

" I will ask it of his Holiness. I will plead for it,"
answered Kaffaello. *^ In faith in your touching proof
of the innocence of the Marchese, I will undertake your n
suit. Then rise, fair lady, and suffer me to say fare-
well My success must be uncertain ; for the PontiflF,
kind and generous as he is, is deeply, justly incensed.
Let me but get the Chigi to bear me company, and
under cover of going to announce the late discovery of
a Vespasian (which, indeed, I meditated doing before I
saw you), I will obtain audience, and you shall, with all
speed, be made aquainted with the result."

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 207

CHAPTER XXn.

But a short time had elapsed, when there might have
been descried approaching the Vatican, both KafBiello
and Agostino Chigi. It was curious to see how, in
these two, the same anxiety of purpose was differently
associated. Kaffaello moved onward with an expres-
sion of face that was earnest, yet which occasionally
gave place to looks of interest in the objects of his
own dear art. His eye, which had been gravely fixed
on the path before him, was suddenly enkindled as
he scanned the growing piles of St. Peter's; and it
argued great and necessary self-command, that he
quickly withdrew that eye from the creations of Bra-
mante and Michel Angelo, as also, from his own
designs, and re-settled himself to the immediate object
of his mission to the Pontiff.

On the other hand, Agostino Chigi walked by his
side with a gaze undiverted for a moment even : not
that his soul was insensible to art, but he felt as a
merchant, and was absorbed in calculations upon the
consequences of his interview with Pope Leo, in suit of
favour towards a suspected conspirator.

208 COUNT ABEK8BER6; OB,

Rafl^llo's place at court as the Cubiciilarius, or
groom of the chamber, gave him and his companion
instant admission within the sacred palace. He learned
that the Pontiff was in the Hall of Constantine, and
was inspecting the progress of his own designs-de-
signs which were fated to be left unfulfilled through
the early death of the great painter.

Baffaello and Agostino Chigi directed their steps
thither ; and, on entering it, stood in reverent silence,
watching the Pontiff's movements, and waiting for his
recognition and commands to approach nearer.

Thej saw Pope Leo now intent on scanning some
new result of the painter's pencil; then entering on
eager conversation (which they could hear) upon its
merits with Cardinal Bibbiena ; and then, again^ lower-
ing his voice, as if in the strictest confidence, so that
its tones became inaudible.

" Look there, your Eminence," exclaimed the Pontiff
to the Cardinal, as he pointed to the outline of the
Vision of Constantine, upon which Raffaello had been
working only the day before. " What a moment," he
continued with enthusiasm, ^^ our Kaffaello has chosen I
The Emperor is haranguing his soldiers. And see
how faithfully he has observed the costumes of anti-
quity ! Why, all is in perfect keeping with the has
reliefs on the Trajan column. The whole is as good
as an antique I"

" And your Holiness will admire too the Emperor's
attitude and looks?" returned Cardinal Bibbiena
inquiringly. ** Still, I like not this new design of

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 209

painting in oil upon plaster. Why should RaffaeUo
take lessons of Sebastiano del Piombo?"*

" Yes, indeed," said Leo, without heeding the latter
question; "that moment of Constantine's addressing
his troops might have been chosen by any common-
place designer. But see you what our Raffaello has in-
spired into that moment ? All the Emperor's eloquence
is arrested in an instant. He had been warmed and
absorbed by his own speech — his eye had kindled with
brave Roman thoughts; but you see that eye now
rivetted on Heaven, and they who had just been look-
ing on him alone are now looking thitherward; and
whereas the whole assembly had before been con-
fident in their own prowess, all are now in the atti-
tude of deference and dependence on yon cross —
iv ToiuT(d NCkcl.

"I wish that our RaffaeUo would be more indus-
trious and complete this hall," continued Leo, with an
impatience that was flattering to the artist, whilst it
betrayed inconsiderateness ; for, at this very time, the
great painter was likewise engaged at work on the
Transfiguration — that last and most glorious of his oil
paintings.

" Per Bacco ! Raffaello is here himself, and must have
heard our criticism and our eagerness. Approach, my
son," exclaimed the Pontiff, as his glance caught the
form of his distinguished protege.

" Pardon me and my companion, may it please your
Holiness," returned Raffaello, as he advanced and drew

♦ Note 3.

VOL. I. P

210 COUNT AB£NSB£RG; OB9

onward the hesitating Agostino. " We were only wait-
ing to seek audience."

" And thou hast heard praises and complaints about
thyself, my Kaffaello ! " replied the Pope, witii affection-
ate condescension. " And for why do ye seek an audi-
ence? Has Messer Chigi framed some new plot to rob
us of thy services?"

** May the servant of your Holiness again humbly
pledge his best obedience to your commands bo
sacred!" answered Baffaello. "And may he utter his
gratitude, for the complacency which" your Holiness
has just avowed in his poor works ! May he further
ask for consideration, if his progress is but slow ?"

"Ask what thou wilt, dear RafFaello," answered
Leo, " save ask us to remit thy labours. But stay —
ask for consideration ? For what ? That thou hast thus
immortalized not thyself only but also this the capital
of our faith ? that thou hast bound ourselves to thee in
love, yea, gratitude, by thy priceless genius ?"

*' Consideration for a servant of your Holiness, whose
thoughts are laggard upon the flight of time," rejoined
RafFaello modestly.

" That we will not give, my son. Thy thoughts
laggard upon the flight of time! We would not
that time's wings were fleet enough to overtake
them."

As Pope Leo was thus condescendingly and aflPec-
tionately bantering Kaflaello, his eye caught some
papers in the aitist's hands, as also a richly-embossed
volume in those of Agostino.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 211

** You seem to have brought us some precious trea-
sure, Messer Chigi."

" Only a new volume from my poor press, which me-
thought your Holiness's love of letters would deign to
examine," answered Agostino, as he humbly presented
on his knee the copy of Theocritus of his superin-
tendence of which we have already spoken.

The Pontiff eagerly received the volume, and some
moments passed in silence, during which he scanned
its pages with the delight (we must say) more of a
typographer than a scholar. For though he had been
taught Greek by Peter CEgineta, his taste led him
rather to the comedies of Aristophanes than to the
pastoral beauties of Theocritus.

"Deo gratias — good Agostino 1" said the Pope, as he
closed the volume. " We would that our old tutor
CEgineta were here to-day to thank thee. We shall
not be behind that half-heretic Erasmus in our Greek,
shaUwe?"

"And I, also, have. to crave the notice, and mayhap
the approval of your Holiness," said Kaffaello, modestly.

"What!" returned Leo; "art thou still insatiate?
Could we love thee more, or praise thee more, my
Raflfaello?"

" Nay, Holy Father," he replied, " in deep humble-
ness I seek for no more praise; for my debt of grati-
tude is already beyond my powers to repay."

**We propose to make thee a Cardinal, KafFaello.
We will that the Sacred College shall be the embodi-
ment of all truth — truth of art and truth of science.

212 COUNT abensbebg; ob,

as well as truth of religion. Paganism had her three
graces ; and we will have three likewise. Monsignore
Bibbiena^" his Holiness continued^ ^^ shall it not be
so?''

This last question, directly addressed as it was to
the Cardinal, placed him, and Baflfaello also, in em-
barrassment. The kind-hearted Pontiff uttered it in-
tentionally, in order that he might ascertain the weight
due to rumours that had reached him, that Bibbiena
had offered a daughter of his house in marriage to
Baffaello, and that Baffaello was deliberating on the
distinguished overture. And on thus suddenly prof-
fering the Cardinalate to the great painter — thus pro-
posing what would make his marriage impossible — he
aimed at discovering the extent and the earnestness of
the engagement.*

Nevertheless, Pope Leo made this offer in perfect
good faith. And, according to the constitution of that
great body, it was not necessary that a Cardinal should
have been in holy orders previously. Neither was it
necessary that the office should be purely ecclesiastical.
It, however, would have been incongruous and would
have entailed upon Baffaello the necessity of abandon-
ing all prospects of alliance with Bibbiena^

The Cardinal and Baffaello exchanged glances, but
not without Leo's perceiving them. Still, there was
nothing of sinister secresy in their wish to shun the
topic for the present; and the Pontiff, having thus
far learned that there was some mutual understand-

• Note 4.

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 213

ing between them, gracefully relieved Kaffaello from '
all difficulty.

" You disdain all transitory honours, my son. You
aim at an enduring-no conventional inmortaUty?"

*' Forgive me, may it please your Holiness!" re-
turned KafFaello, " if, at this moment of your sacred
munificence, I presume humbly to become a suitor, not
for myself but for another."

** Ask for anything, for thyself or others, good Raf-
faello, when thou hast finished either ^ The Transfigura-
tion' or this Hall of Constantine, and we will give
it thee," replied the Pope.

'^ Alas! Holy Father," answered RafFaello, and with
unusual earnestness, " no toil, no zeal of your poor ser-
vant would be in time."

"Not in time?" asked Leo — "not in time? Has
my son become bondsman for some friend, and is the
creditor insolent and pressing ? Good Chigi here will
take our surety, and will help thee instantly."

" Again let your poor servant pray pardon of your
Holiness," returned RafFaello, as he bent his knee be-
fore the Pontiff. " I am not a bondsman for a friend, but
if I were, our Holy Father hath given me ample means
for his redemption. Be not angry with nje, if I crave
pity for a noble maiden, and for a noble maiden's noble
father, gracious Sovereign* The good and loyal Agos-
tino has come with me to unite in prayer an their
behalf."

" Raffaello— and thou, Messer Chigi — ^kneel not so,
and speak not so," interposed the kind-hearted Pontiff.

214 COUNT arensbeeg; or,

" We love not such scenes. They as much as say that
our heart is hard and pitiless. Has a cry from any of
our children ever found us deaf? Kise, both of you,
and tell me straightforward what it is you want."

" I had a maiden on her knees before me, this very
morning, may it please your Holiness !" began Raffaello.

'* And no wonder," broke in the Pope : " thy grace
and beauty, and wit, and genius, must have brought
thee many love-suits. Now go, KafFaello, we will give
this said maiden a princely portion."

Baffaello with unwonted solemnity continued : " And
as she bent, I rarely saw her like or equal, neither with
these eyes nor with my mind's eye. And as she wept,
I saw her tears were no tears of a Magdalena ; yet their
drops were as big and as many. Neither, Holy Father,
did she utter plaints from a heart love-stricken. She
was a poor bird moaning for a parent whom the fowler
had ravished from the nest."

" For an aviary, or for death?" asked Leo, with deep
interest.

" For St. Angelo !" returned Raffaello, gravely.

At that ill' omened name — a name so cruelly asso-
ciated, in the gentle soul of Pope Leo, with the recent
treasons of his friends and ministers — the Pontiff's fea-
tures suddenly became pale and rigid. And he was a
long while silent, Raffaello, meantime, gazing beseech-
ingly upon his troubled countenance.

*^ Beware — beware, my son I" he answered, as he
broke the painful silence. *^ St. Angelo never opens
but to traitors to our person and our Holy See. And

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 215

thou — ^surely thou wouldst never intercede for them?
Or wouldst thou, our loyal Chigi ?"

*^ Never I never, Holy Father I" exclaimed both of
them, with emphasis.

" Never T" Eaffaello again repeated ; " but God grant
that the Marchese della Scala be found no traitor!"

" The Marchese della Scala 1 the perfidious rebel 1
the forsworn soldier!" cried the Pontiff, vehemently.
" The villain ! the bribed partisan of the Duke d'Urbino !
And you plead on his behalf!"

"We implore your Holiness to listen to the object
of our prayer," said Raffaello. *^We prostrate our-
selves, not to ask pardon for a criminal, should the
Marchese della Scala have even dreamed against the
sacred life of our Holy Father. Neither would we
aim to prove his innocence ; for in regard to that, we
have nothing but high presumptions. But deign, your
Holiness, to hearken to his daughter's supplications.
She begs for nothing save admission to her father's
dungeon. She aims at nought except to comfort him,
or, if means present themselves, to obtain proofs that he
is guiltless. And that these are her sole purposes, I
will gage my life."

** Kaffaello," returned the Pope, much moved, ^^ thou
dost ask for what costs me more to give thee, than if
thou hadst asked a province. Know you not how our
life hath been betrayed — how they who have eaten of
our bread, have lifted up the heel against us ? Never-
theless, it shall not be said that Leo ever distrusted
Baffaello. T^l^e this signet, and use it on thy good

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216 COUNT AR£NSB£BG; OB5

faith and judgment. The maiden may see her father,
when and as often as thou deemest right. The fealty
of the Priesthood has been violated : we will, at least,
try the fealty of Art."

With this, the Pontiff, taking a small ring from a
finger and offering it to Kaffaello, was preparing to
withdraw.

** And may this precious signet be employed to stay
any tortures of the wretched Marchese, until your
Holiness shall give an express command ?" prayed
Raffaello, humbly.

*^ Stay I stay, my son I That boon I cannot give
thee. That would be to usurp the function of our
judges. That, too, would but embroil thee with them.
Be satisfied with what thou hast obtained already ; and
be sure that we remember mercy as well as justice."

Both Baffaello and Agostino Chigi perceived that to
urge their suit farther, would only peril the interests of
the Lady Bianca and her father; and they, therefore,
with deep reverence and gratitude, retired,.

"'^^^^"^^^^"^^""■"•■■^"■■'liVi^lV'WMISRliVBHeHiiVHBiWaMiVnBliiiPiVHHDIIB

THE DAYS OF LUTHER, 217

CHAPTER XXIII.

Meanwhile, the Cardinal * * * * had been far from
idle. On his return to his palace from the tribunal
at which the Marchese della Scala had been arraigned,
and where, with such subtle hypocrisy, he had ap-
peared to befriend him, the excitement of his plotting
spirit made sleep impossible, and he spent the remain-
ing hours of the night in weaving fresh meshes for his
proposed victim.

He determined to allow the whole of the morrow to
pass away without obtruding himself upon Bianca, and
to be content with sending to her a skilful messenger
to assure her of his sympathy and active vigilance in
favour of the Marchese. Then, again, he resolved to
provide her with access to her imprisoned father,
hoping that she would learn from him how he him-
self had generously interfered to save him from the
torture. "This," thought he, "may touch her, and
dispose her towards myself. At all events, it will
convince her how utterly her father is within my
power."

But that morrow had not long dawned before he

218 COUNT ABEK8BEBG; OB,

found that other and unanticipated moves were neces-
sary.

Several of his creatures^ whom he had placed to
watch the La Scala Palace^ brought him word that
they had seen two masked females leave it^ and had
followed them to the house of Agostino ChigL Then,
some hours after, there came others, who had re-
mained as spies, and announced that Bianca and her
attendant had returned home.

All this gave him but slight uneasiness ; and when it
did, he speedily threw it off in scorn at the idea that
the merchant's influence should be measured with his
own.

But the case was more alarming when another, a
third scout, arrived to inform him that the great mer-
chant and (a greater and more influential man) Raf-
faello had repaired to the Vatican.

His fears argued no extraordinary sagacity. Per-
haps — yet even this would have been dangerous self-
confidence — he might be warranted in undervaluing
the power of Agostino Chigi with his Holiness; but
he knew the influence of Kaffaello was almost irre-
sistible, and he began to fear lest Bianca should find
his own aid unnecessary^

We have said, that he had resolved to keep aloof
from her through the entire day. Now, however, the
thought struck him, that, if he could forestall the
interview which he judged it likely Raffaello would
seek with Bianca, after his audience with the Pope,
he might still acquire her gratitude for his assistance*

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 219

He took his resolution; and while the ingenuous
and single-hearted painter was, in the Hall of Constan-
tine, interceding with the Pontiff, the Cardinal, full of
the wiles of selfishness, determined to repair to the La
Scala mansion.

** Hath the Lady Bianca sufficiently recovered from
her last night's illness to receive me, think you, Hip-
polito?" he inquired of the aged seneschal, on his
arrival at the palace.

'^ The Lady Bianca is still ill at ease, and denies
herself to every one, may it please your Eminence," he
replied, sadly.

*' But, good Hippolito," whispered the Cardinal,
^^bear to her that I am here, and on a matter most
urgent about the Marchese."

'^ I will obey your Eminence," said the servant ;
but his tone of voice and his look left the Cardinal
uneasy; for the old man's faithful heart, without any
conscious reason, connected him with his lord's peril,
and he shrank from paying his wonted cordial homage
to a Prince and Prelate of the Church.

** His Eminence must be admitted," sighed Bianca,
as Hippolito, after having striven to induce his mistress
to refuse him, was reluctantly retiring — " he must be
admitted, be it only to gain time."

On entering, the Cardinal met a scene for which
even he was unprepared. With her friend Theresa
bending over her, and attempting to soothe down her
agitation, he found Bianca haggard and trembling like
an aspenJeaf. All bloom had fled from her cheeks;

220 COUNT arensbebg; or,

and her lips, that yesternight rivalled coral, were of an
ashen whiteness. Her dress, too^ was without even those
few ornaments which ordinarily he had seen her wear,
and had admired for their simplicity.

All this his keen eye had noticed, although Bianca
suddenly rose from her chair, and, with desperate self-
command, assumed an air of dignity and composure.

*^ You are still unwell, I fear, fair lady," said the
Cardinal, and with an expression of sympathy that,
for the time, was natural. " I had not dared thus to
intrude upon your sadness, did I not bear with me
what I trust will prove an anodyne."

Bianca looked inquiringly, as he drew from his vest
a paper, and, while tendering it, added, —

" I have wrought all this morning to obtain it, and
my heart has often quailed at my numerous failures ;
but at length there it is — the order for your admission
to the Marchese."

And there it was indeed, duly signed and counter-
signed — an order hitherto unheard of; for it had been
the unvarying policy of Rome to conceal the dun-
geons of St. Angelo from all eyes save those of
its wretched inmates, few of whom ever left them —
none without taking an oath of silence as to their
interior.

What a moment was that to Bianca I Had such a
boon been proffered her by any other hand, the depths
of her filial gratitude would have been broken up, and
they would have outpoured their fervour of thanks-
giving. But all her trust in the Cardinal's honour and

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 221

good faith was undermined. And little did his mind
— so blind had his passion made it — little did his mind
suspect how this his apparent kindness was being con-
strued; for Bianca^ sharpened by her past conflicts
with his treacheries, concealed all signs of her distrust,
although she felt it impossible to enact the hypocrisy
of joy.

What she would have said or done it were difficult
to state, and it is unnecessary. For, without making
any previous announcement (so his young mistress had
given him orders), Hippolito threw open the folding-
doors of the apartment, and the amazed Cardinal was
confronted with Kaffaello and Agostino Chigi, who, on
their glad errand, had delayed not since they left the
Vatican.

But Raffaello had taken only a few steps forward
when, with a face of gladness which he trusted Bianca
would understand, he said, —

*'We must be intruding, fair lady. We knew not
that his Eminence was with you. We will wait,
should you be willing, at a more convenient moment,
to give us audience."

** Nay, nay, my Prince of Painters," interposed the
Cardinal, anxious to be present, and thereby to learn
the object and the result of their mission to the Pon-
tiff. "I have no secrets with the Lady Bianca. I
have but come hither to tender my best services for
my honoured friend, the Marchese. And, dear B.af-
faello," he continued, with well-aflTected sweetness,
^'seel have I not done something? Yon paper is

222 COUNT arensberg; ob,

an order of admission of her ladyship to St. An-*
gelo."

**Then we have all three been working for the
same object I " the unsaspicious BaiFaello exclaimed
triumphantlj. *^ Behold here, fair lady," and kneel-
ing on one knee before her, he held up a costly ring :
**here is a signet of his gracious Holiness, at which
even St. Angelo opens. But, God be thanked ! that
if our poor suit had failed, the power of his Eminence
was suflScient."

"And will that signet open St. Angelo to my
father, most kind sir?" asked Bianca eagerly, and with
her eyes fixed devouringly upon it,

" It may hereafter, dear lady, though it will not yet,"
replied Raffaello with solemn fervour.

" Think me, oh I think me not ungrateful, that I
am slow in thanks, my gracious and generous friends.
To you, my Lord Cardinal, I am indebted also. The
Holy Virgin grant that my father may be saved to
show our deep sense of obligation I And you, Sig-
nori,'* continued Bianca, addressing Agostino Chigi
and Raffaello, " will be sure how much, too much for
words, I am now feeling."

"Only deign, fair lady, to accept my efforts in
pledge of future and unceasing sympathy, and I am
richly rewarded," answered the Cardinal. " And now
let me offer counsel. This signet from his Holiness,
the Pontiff's tribute to the glorious genius of our
divine Kaffaello, must supersede the plain paper I pro-
cured. May I ask for it back again ?"

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 223

'^ Pray, require it not back again/' Agostino inter-
posed. ^* There may be occasions when Baffaello
cannot act in person ; and your Eminence well knows
that he must not part with so invaluable a talisman."

" But, Messer Chigi, Raffaello will hold himself
and this signet at the command of the Lady della
Scala," returned the painter. " This order, which his
Eminence has so graciously procured, may now be
cancelled. And, indeed, to employ it would be a re-
flection upon the power of his Holiness."

RafFaeUo said thus much in pure simplicity of heart.
The heart of the Cardinal, however, was far less in-
genuous. It reasoned, agreeably with its natural cun-
ning, thai if Bianca should be thrown utterly upon
the protection of Kaffaello, there would inevitably be
numerous interviews between them. And he feared
the attractions of a form so graceful — of a genius and a
disposition so fascinating.

"Messer Chigi is right," he answered; "I would
counsel the Lady Bianca to retain both these facilities
fer access to the noble Marchese. ^Nunquam Deus
intersit sine node' Let the signet of his Holiness be
kept for grave emergencies — yon order will be enough
for the present, at the least."

*^ Then I will retain it," answered Bianca, and, for
the first time since the seizure of her father, a smile
(but it was a faint one) played upon her features.
For, with her suspicion of the motive of the Cardinal,
her quickened far-sightedness taught her that her pos-
session of such a document would commit him.

224 COUNT areksberg; ob^

((

I am your devoted and faithfiil servaat^ fair
lady," said Raffaello. " I reverently yield to your judg-
ment. And pray believe me, — only command me at
any future moment, and be my engagements what
they may, this signet of the Holy Father shall share
in my obedience,"

When these two friends, Raffaello and Agostino
Chigi had retired (which they did immediately, yet
not without their interchange of the most kindly
glances with Bianca), and when she found herself
alone with the Cardinal (for Theresa had, at the first
stage of this scene, withdrawn), she felt all the change
there is between that of being at home with friends,
even although a traitor is in the midst of them, and
that of being alone with a foe subtle and impla-
cable. But fi^lial duty nerved her, and, assured now
that she had supporters faithful and powerful, she
calmly and collectedly awaited the words of the dreaded
ecclesiastic.

**I was wrong — most «adly wrong— beautiful and
good Bianca, yesternight," said the Cardinal, as soon
as his vigilant eyes told him that they were both alone.
** God wotteth how deeply I mourn over my sad sins.
And this morning I awoke with the purpose of atoning
for my fault, first, by activity on your behalf, and then,
by penance. Will the Lady Bianca pardon me and
trust me ?"

" Your Eminence," replied Bianca, ** hath been kind
— most kind ; and I will try to trust you. But past
scenes must never recur again I"

iBwaaiHIBHMmHMmnwBWWHBa^iMm^Winv Ik iim ai^vw*^^

1

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 225

** Never I" exclaimed the CardlnaL ''Never! Be
it my aim in life to show my devotion to your priceless
beauty, gracious lady! And I mil show it in the
rescue of the Marchese first of all."

" Then let me go to him instantly," answered Bianca.

VOL. I.

226 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OB^

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Lady Bianca^ accompanied by the Cardinal and
one old servant of her house^ reached the castle of St.
Angelo. By the pre-arrangement of the Cardinal^
obstacles from the guardians of the dreaded fortalice
presented themselves; and he managed^ with such
address^ to overcome them all, that even Bianca's
suspicions of the sincerity of his penitence were
giving way.

Her heart beat almost audibly as, preceded by the
gaolers, she threaded her way amid damp and gloomy
cells, from some of which there issued sighs, from others
maniac curses. Many a time did her steps falter ; and
then, the Cardinal, with a winning gentleness, en-
couraged her by words of kindness.

At length — and how endless and dismal had the
passages appeared to her ! — ^at length the gaoler stopped
before the door of a dungeon. The bolts grated in
their sockets, as they were withdrawn. The door
opened, and by the dim flicker of a lamp, which the
gaoler placed on the floor, Bianca discerned her father
seated upon a miserable pallet, and so deep in thought.

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 227

which the expression of his countenance showed to be
painful, that he did not at first mark the interruption.

That countenance — deadly pale — was, nevertheless,
composed and rigid with a fixity of purpose which,
considering the awful predicament* he was placed in,
was surprising. For, be it remembered, that the Mar-
chese della Scala was thoroughly aware that the com-
mon fate of traitors — nay, even of those whom it was
the Papal policy to treat as traitors — was secret assas-
sination; perhaps, too, after having been questioned
(as it is called) by fearful tortures. There is some-
thing in the hourly dread of assassination which tries
the strongest nerves, beneath which the stoutest heart
has quailed. He had heard that even a Prince of the
Church had been lately strangled in one of the ad-
jacent dungeons, for the very crime of which he was
accused.

So soon as, despite the dimness of the cell, his eye
rested on the form of his beloved daughter — upon
whose unprotected situation his thoughts, even in these
moments of terrible suspense, were dwelling — the
revulsion of feeling was too great, and, with a cry of
agony no tortures could have extorted, he exclaimed, —

*^ Thou here, my child I thou in this fearful dun-
geon ! Oh I there needed but this to fill my cup of
sorrow to the brim I "

^* Say not so, my father," returned Bianca : '* I trust
I bring you freedom, or the first step towards it. But,
God be thanked I I see they have not tortured you.
Oh ! how I have been dreading that I "

230 COUNT akensberg; or,

should be immediatelj resorted to^ as that one whose
good fame was implicated with his own^ and who alone
could provide him, the Marchese, with the means of
ample vindication.

When the Lady Bianca had regained the La Scala
Palace, she immediately secluded herself in her own
room, giving special orders that she should be secured
from interruption. These orders she gave, not so
much because her agitation and fatigue suggested rest
and seclusion, as because she felt an incipient purpose
within her which would exact such efforts and such
preliminary arrangements as would require the most
exclusive deliberation.

As we have just said, during her interview with her
father, the latter had incidentally hinted at his past
relations with the Duke d'Urbino, and at the possi-
bility of such relations having some connection with
his present impeachment. Bianca's natural sagacity,
now aided by the foresight of her heart, seized upon
that hint, and immediately, of what at first was only
a vague and almost meaningless conception, these two
powers of prophecy created suggestions, and plans, and
hopes. But these all rushed in upon her spirit toge-
ther. They were tumultuous, and, therefore, appa-
rently discrepant; and she felt the need of silence,
in order that she might review and compare their
several voices.

'*Yes," she said to herself, while seated in a chair,
deeply meditating — " yes, the Duke d'Urbino must
have somewhat to do with my dear father's peril!

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 231

My father has often— often, and even when I was
present, spoken of the Duke in praise ! But, thank
the Holy Virgin, he .never spoke of him without
regretting he was an enemy of the Holy See I Stay,
were there not some letters lately sent here through
the Duke's private courier? I wonder if my father
has destroyed them ? Or have the sbirri seized them?"

With very mingled feelings of dread and hope —
coupling, too, therewith that innate delicacy against
presumption, which is ever felt by a right-minded
chad in approaching the secrets of a parent-she went
to a box of private papers belonging to the Marchese.
She found it open, and her heart sank within her.
"What I" she exclaimed, ** have these, too, been
rifled?"

Fortunate it was that this casket had been left
unlocked ; for this Uttle circumstance had blinded
the police, and they passed it by as requiring no in-
vestigation.

Bianca drew forth its contents and perused them
eagerly. For some time her face betrayed successive
disappointments ; at last, however, her eye glistened,
trembling, nevertheless, between hope and alarm, as
she opened a paper that bore the signature of the
Duke. It was as follows : —

" To his Eccelenza the Marchese della Scala, &c.

" We thank you, deeply from our heart, for both the
sympathy you avow in our misfortunes, and for the
generous estimate of our struggles, which, as a soldier.

232 COUNT abensbebg; ob,

yoa have so firanklj uttered, and which^^ as coniing from
one so renowned, we appreciate most highly. Grod be
our witness, we hold no enmity to the Holy See, other-
wise, this, our note, to an officer so loyal to the Sacred
Pontiff, would be a low and treacherous insult. Ke-
member us in your prayers to the Holy Virgin. — Dated
Perugia, April 1518.

^' Uebino."

All of this document pleased her, yet there remained
upon her young heart a strange fright, especially as
she saw written within the envelope some words in
cypher 1

** What can these mean ?" she said to herself. ** My
high-minded, my honoured father deserves — oh I how
well he deserves this Duke's praise of his loyalty to the
Holy See ; yet what can this cypher mean ? This
cypher I this cypher I" she exclaimed loudly enough to
be heard.

**What cypher, daughter?" asked Father Francis,
for whose admission to her room access at all times
was provided. " What cypher, daughter ?"

The affiighted girl thrust the paper into her bosom,
terrified at the barte sound of a voice, even before
her sense detected that it was the voice of her
guide and her protector. And she was too alarmed to
answer.

** Cypher 1 And doeS my daughter doubt either my
power to read it or, when read, my fealty to your noble
house even if its meaning should be dangerous ?"

m^mmmmmmmmmammmmmi^wmmimmmtmmmmam^ammmi'mmmmmvv^

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 233

«

Nay, indeed, reverend Father," replied Bianca,
taking the paper from her vest ; " but your voice
startled me."

*'As is too sadly natural in our present circum-
stances," returned the Priest. "Yet lend it to me:
perchance I may, from former training, find a key
to it."

" And will you risk it. Father ? and will you do so
with your oath upon you to conceal nothing to the
advantage or the detriment of the Holy See ?"

** Is it a cypher to the Marchese, dear lady ?"

« It is."

" Then give it me," replied Father Francis. " He
holds no dangerous secrets. He is too good, too true
a son of the Church to harbour any wrong against
her. Only for some few hoUrs did I hold any surmise
about his innocence. May God and his saints forgive
me!"

Bianca placed it confidingly in his hands ; but her
face bore a most anxious expression, while he strove to
interpret it.

Soon, however, a smile beamed upon his worn coun-
tenance. At first, that smile was so calm that it fanned
her impatience. At length, it became triumphant and
assuring.

" With this cypher," said Father Francis, " I ought
to be familiar ! Is it not the very one which the illus-
trious Duke d'Urbino employed throughout my recent
embassy at his now fallen court ? • Cheer up, daughter.
If the Virgin but give us wit and wisdom, and if time

234 COUNT ABENSBEBG; OB5

fails not^ these few mysterious lines shall save the
Marchese,"

** Oh 1 read them^ read them to me, reverend
Father," cried Bianca. " Pray read them to me."

" They are simply these," returned the exulting
Priest, " and yet they will, or I know not the Holy
Father, bring liberty and life to your noble parent : —

*^ ' Distrust us not. It has reached us that the life
of the Sacred Pontiff has been placed in serious danger ;
and, further, that there are rumours rife that we sanc-
tioned the assassins. Prove now that thou hast a sol-
dier's faith in a fellow-soldier's honour. We war, but
we never poison.' "

" And is that all ?" gasped out Bianca in disappoint-
ment. " Father, how can that save us ?"

"Not save us?" asked Father Francis eagerly.
" Why, daughter, it goes far more than to disclaim the
Duke's complicity with the treacherous Cardinals; it
proves, beyond all question, his confidence in the Mar-
chese as a soul of honour."

" And how will that avail us ?" asked Bianca.

"Why, I will hie me to the Vatican; I will gain
instant audience with his Holiness; I will show him
this blessed document," replied the Priest.

" Show it to his Holiness," answered Bianca bit-
terly, " and he will question whether it be not forged.
Tell him — for he will demand it of thee — how
thou didst obtain it; and when he learns that it was

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 235

found in an open casket^ he will suspect that it was
placed there intentionally to hoodwink the officers of
justice."

" I have not so read his Holiness," answered Father
Francis firmly.

A quick, hurried knock at the door of the apart-
ment, followed by the quick informal entrance of the
seneschal, cut short the conversation.

** The sbirri are at the gates, and are very threaten-
ing in their demands for entrance," exclaimed the
agitated servant*

" Then admit them instantly," returned Bianca
proudly.

Scarcely had the priest concealed the paper within
his cassock, when the myrmidons of government were
rudely treading the halls of the palace.

As their tramp sounded nearer and nearer, Bianca
pointed to the secret door, a suggestion to Father
Francis to consult his safety and to fly.

But he shook his head in token of refusal, and,
gathering himself up with high dignity, he remained
standing.

" Your ladyship must pardon my apparent rudeness,"
said the young officer of the band, as he entered the
apartment and bowed to Bianca ; " but my duty is to
arrest, and in the name of the Holy Inquisition, the
reverend Father who stands before me.''

" Resist not, daughter," interposed the Priest, as he
saw scorn and indignation beginning to mantle upon
the brow of Bianca. " Do your duty, officer : yet.

236 COUNT arensberg; or,

methinks. Priest as I am of the Most High God, I
might claim to see your warrant."

** Then, there it is, reverend sir," returned the cap-
tain, holding up his authority, yet still retaining it.

Father Francis scanned it for a moment, smiled
bitterly, then added, —

** Lead on, sir ; trust me, I follow : the signature is
regular; but the writing of the order is the Car-
dinal'sl"

And now, did Bianca weakly succumb to this fresh,
this terrible misfortune ? Did she yield up her spirit
to laments and despair ? She had just lost the guide
of her youth ; and, to make the loss the greater, at the
very moment when his sagacity and his resolution
were feeding her with hope. This, indeed, might have
paralyzed even her strong mind ; but the parting
words of Father Francis, " the writing of the order is
the Cardinal's!" both diverted her attention into another
channel than that of her own immediate sorrow, and
aroused afresh her suspicions and her anger. This
acted as a counter-irritation, and the result was that,
with both her mind and her bolder feelings in singular
vivacity, she resumed that train of purpose on which
she had been meditating 'when Father Francis entered
her chamber. It was, however, somewhat quickened
by this new proof of the Cardinal's deep treachery.

** I cannot help Father Francis, save to the peril of
my own noble parent, or I would remain in Rome.
Stay here, and it may be that this loathsome serpent
will so coil his folds around me, as will render any

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 237

movement of mine impossible. And then^ could I but
gain access to the Duke d'Urbino ! Chivalrous I
know he is. Would he not, on the instant that he
learned my father's peril, and the way in which his
own fair name is implicated, confute accusers, and at
whatever risk?"

So far she was communing with herself. But then,
how could she, a lone maiden, attain her purpose?
The Duke had retired to Mantua, far, far away from
Rome. And even could she escape unnoticed from
the city, and, aided by the retainers of her house,
reach Mantua and the presence of the Duke, what,
meantime, might not the disappointed fury of the
Cardinal perpetrate upon her father?

She had been, for a considerable time, pacing up
and down her apartment, in anxious but fruitless effort
to solve her difficulties. And, at last, that most pain-
ful of all moments in trouble had arrived, when her
reason, yea, even her imagination, could suggest no
device wherewith to extricate herself.

**May I enter, dear lady?" asked Theresa, gently
opening a door. ^^ You know how long and sacredly
I have respected your wish to be alone ; neither would
I violate it now, but Signer Ra&ello has been long
and earnestly seeking for an interview."

Pray, beg him to come instantly," cried Bianca.

Thanks, a thousand thanks, Theresa, for thy con-
siderateness ; but had I known that B^ffiiello (good
as he is great) was here, it might have saved me a
world of torturing anxiety."

it

238 COUNT AKENSBEB6; OB^

**Your ladyship's wilKng and devoted servant is
before you, and humbly waits your orders," answered
KafFello, with profound courtesy.

"Theresa, thou wilt remain," said Bianca, as her
humble friend was retiring. **Thou and I have no
secrets from each other; and with your permission,
Signor Baffaello, I would hope that the Qoncert of two
poor women's wisdom may not offend you I "

"Your pleasure, gracious madam, will ever be a
law to me," replied Kaffaello; and, although there
might have been a smile within him, it lay unre-
vealed.

"First," said Bianca, and with an earnestness that
was very emphatic, " suffer me to thank you, gracious
Signor Sanzio, for your great, your chivalrous kind-
ness. I have wanted an occasion fitting for the avowal
of my deepest gratitude."

" Speak not so," returned Baffaello, reverently.
*^ Rather suffer me again to tender my poor services,
and to hasten to that which has made me so presuming
in this my intrusion on your solitude. Time presses,
fair lady."

^^ Speak — speak, then, kind Signor. Oh I why not
have forced an entrance, and earlier?" exclaimed
Bianca.

^^ Your ladyship is beset with immediate peril, and I
crave the honour of striving to repel it," said Bafiaello,
very gravely.

" Tell me not, Signor, of any peril to myself. . How
is my father?"

THE DAYS OF LUTHEB. 239

'^Nay, dear lady, but peril to yourself is peril to
your noble father, and, therefore, let me pray you to
belieye, that, in this instance, selfishness is a filial
virtue. I know that the creatures of Cardinal * * * *
are commissioned to seize you, and on the most grievous
charges against the State."

" The Cardinal I He my accuser ! Signer Kaffaello ?
He, who, as you know, was, so recently as this
morning, my friend, the friend and advocate of my
father!"

*^ His myrmidons are on the threshhold of your
palace, noble lady."

*^Then adieu to faith in human nature!" almost
shrieked Bianca. "Yes, adieu to all confidence in
religion and in humanity I"

" Neither to confidence in religion nor to confidence
in humanity say adieu. Lady Bianca," returned Raf-
faello, solemnly. *'God, I humbly hope, sendeth me
hither, and, through me, he commandeth yon to fly, ay,
and on the instant."

**Fly? and whither?" cried the anxious, perplexed
Bianca.

" Your ladyship, most assuredly, will find a welcome
and protection in the Chigi palace. Pardon my ur-
gency, seek refuge there," prayed Raffaello.

"Refuge? and from what?" gasped the bewildered

lady.

" Yes, refuge, dear lady," murmured Raffaello.
" And be assui?«d I will soon prove to the Holy Father
that yours is no flight from his sacred justice. But

240 COUNT ABEN6BEB6; OB,

pardon me, for time so presses that your cause will not
suffer me to stay, even to tender you my escort."

Saying this, and gathering from Bianca's look, though
she remained mute, that his advice would be imme-
diately adopted, the noble-hearted Raffaello left the
apartment — not to escape the responsibility of openly
aiding her in her flight, but for the purpose of ad-
vancing her interests in the highest quarter.

- »■»■< » ^-y— ^w^M— »i^m»»"W^>^w»*^

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 241

CHAPTEK XXV.

Some few days had elapsed when, early in the morn-
ing, BafFaello presented himself at the Vatican. He
did so, for it was his turn to discharge his duties as
Groom of the Chambers at the palace of his Holiness.
There he found, anxiously waiting for audience with
the Pontiff, both Agostino Chigi (with whom our
readers are already familiar) and no less important
a personage than John Heytmers de Zonvelben, one of
the Pope's special nuncios.

In our aim to appreciate somewhat the character of
Leo X., it is necessary for us to advert to this last-
named individual.

Never will the lovers of letters forget the great debt
they owe to Pope Leo X., for the costly enthusiasm
with which he strove to recover any long-lost vestiges
of ancient authors. One of the most pleasing proofs
that remain to us of this, is the commission which he
gave to the above-named Heytmers. In the beginning
of one of his letters (still extant) to Albert, Arch-
bishop of Mentz and Magdeburg, we read the fol-
lowing:—

TOL. I. H

242 COUNT akensberg; ok^

"Venerable Brother, — Health and Apostolical
Benediction ! We send our beloved son John Heytmers
de Zonvelben, Ecclesiastic of the Diocese of Liege,
Commissary of the Apostolical See to the illustrious
nations of Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and
Gothland, to search for valuable and ancient books
that have been lost through the injury of time, in
which business we spare no expense, only that, as we
have determined from the very beginning of our Pon-
tificate, solely with a design to promote the honour
and glory of the Most High, we may, by God's assist-
ance, cherish, promote, and serve famous men of all
sorts, especially the learned." . . . .*

Heytmers had just returned to Rome, and was eager
to lay before the Pontiff the success of his literary
mission ; and it was for this purpose that he was now
standing, in the expectation of a summons, in the ante-
chamber of the Vatican.

*^Your silence is not a little dogged, I must say.
Mynheer Heytmers!" said Agostino Chigi, and not a
little wrathfully either.

These were the words which met RaffaeUo's ear,
immediately as he crossed the sacred precincts.

"Signori," said RaflFaello, while he bowed to them
both most gracefully, and from courteous thoughtful-
ness made no exception by recognising Agostino
Chigi, "I fear I am behind my time^ and so may
have unworthily disturbed your equanimity."

♦ Note 5.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 243

*' Disturbed our equanimity! and by your being
somewhat late!" exclaimed the excitable Italian mer-
chant. *^ Disturbed our equanimity I No, never, great
Haffaello ! His Reverence here has indeed disturbed
mine : for though he knows I am half wild to know his
great literary secrets, and though he knows I would
gladly, thankfully pay for any of them, he will reveal
none."

" I am the servant of his Holiness," was the only
reply of Heytmers.

** Signori, you shall, both of you, and together, soon
unbosom all," cried EaflTaello, laughingly.

So saying, he repaired to the inner apartments, and
on finding that the Pontiff was within the library, he
directed his steps thither, and having announced their
names, received orders for their admission, both at
once.

" Welcome," said the Pope, as the reverend biblio-
maniac approached to do him homage. " And wel-
come — thrice welcome. Signer Chigi," he continued.
*^ Commerce and learning — learning and commerce :
they shall be twin-sisters. Yet, no — ^no," added Leo,
seeing a slight shade upon the Chigi's countenance ;
"at least, in thy case, my son, commerce is the
handmaid unto learning."

" I wish I could find out the identity of commerce

and learning," murmured the Pope's buffoon, who stood

beside him. " Alas 1 —

* Archipoeta' facit versus pro mille poetis,*
and gets no pay for it."

244 COUNT AB£NSB£RG; OBj

** Silence, fool T' answered Leo playfully, adding with
exquisite readiness, —

* £t pro mille aliis Archipoeta bibit.* *

** And now for news, Keverend Father," resumed
the Pope. "We are consumed with hope. What
hast thou on these parchments beneath thine arm?
Answer, my son; the Chigi here is as interested as
myself. Hast thou got for us that book of Livy, for
which we sent thee?"

" Alas ! may it please your Holiness," replied Heyt-
mers sorrowfully, " my countrymen either cannot read
it, or, if they can', will not disclose their treasure." +

« The barbarians 1 " murmured Agostino.

*^ Not barbarians either, may it please your Holi-
ness," continnued Heytmers, while a spot of anger
glanced out from his fair Saxon cheek-bone at the
insulting comment of the learned merchant. " Here is
not, indeed, the thirty-third book of Livy, after which
your Holiness did so specially commission me ; but
here is what will be, perchance, as valuable — ^the latter
parts of the fortieth, and from chapter thirty-seven all
complete."

"Deo gratias! Deo gratiasi hand it us, dear bro-
ther I" exclaimed the Pontiff, forgetting, in his ardour,
the reserve and calmness fitting for his high station.

What a picture there was then in the long library
of the Vatican 1 While the monk was uncasing the
precious treasure — his hands made tremulous by the
sacred presence of the Pontiff, yea, and not a little by

♦ Note 6. t Note 7.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 245

his own reverence for that treasure itself — the group
of observers that was watching him was of itself a
spectacle.

A precious fragment of the great historian Livy
was being unclothed of cerements that for ages had
been wound around it ! And it was the unclothing of
what bade fair to be far more vital than the best con-
served mummy-monarch of a pyramid. Filippo Be-
realdo— the Pope's encyclopaedic librarian — forgot the
daring he was guilty of as he peered over the Pontiff's
shoulders^ so absorbing was his learned eagerness.
Agostino Chigi was just as much carried away, and
Raffaello felt it — ^for the merchant grasped his arm so
tightly that he shrank with pain. He himself was
excited not a little: painter though he was, and
painter, too, of subjects that were mostly ecclesiastical,
his soul had drunk deep of the Pierian springs. Then,
moreover, and beyond all, there was Leo's face, now
warmed into a vigour such as no mere fashionable
scholar's ever glowed with ; and there were his pierc-
ing eyes too, aided by the glasses he had eagerly
put on, watching every leaf of cover on the precious
manuscript.

** Stop, stop ! good Berealdo ! " cried the Pontiff,
smiling, to his librarian, whose curiosity was becoming
uncontrollable, when the old papyrus came to light.
" Stop I we ourselves must have the first look at
least."

He took it from the hands of Heytmers, and began
with avidity to decipher it.

246 COUNT ABENSBEBG; OB,

" Praetor Ti. Minucius," read the Pontiff, and stopped
a moment to recall the place with which this fragment
of the great Latin historian would agree.

" Titus Minucius Pr»tori " exclaimed Berealdo.
" Why, please your Holiness, the thirty-fifth chapter,
eleventh book, speaks of Titus Minucius Molleculas,
Publius Cornelius Mammula, and — and ** — and there he
stopped.

" Dormiyit Homerus," affectedly gibbered the poet-
buffoon.

" Peste, Quemus I " said the Pope, angrily ; ** keep
thy foolery till dinner-time.

** * Praetor Ti. Minucius, et hand ita multo post con-
sul C. Calpurnius moritur multique alii omnium ordi-
num inlustres viri: postremo prodigii loco ea clades
haberi coepta est.' "

" True — most true, your Holiness. Does not the
very last chapter we have got of Livy, ^eak of a
pestilence ? " asked Agostino.

And so, on went this little group of learned men —
listening, reading, helping each other to decipher — all
of them, at length, exhausted with excitement and with
toiL

This was the day when those long-lost portions of
the great, though credulous Latin historian were
brought to light ; and but few months elapsed ere they
were given to the world through the newly-created
power of printing.

" You will follow us, Messer Chigi, to our cabi-
net," said the Pontiff, addressing the merchant in a

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 247

tone the most affable; and^ with a gentle adieu to
the group around him, he withdrew, followed by the
Chigi.

So soon as Leo had settled himself in his chair —
within his most secret chamber — he thus began : —

" My good friend, Agostino, you came here in
obedience to our own special smnmons. And already
that good obedience has been rewarded amply, hath it
not ? ""

" Rewarded, may it please your Holiness ? What
greater honour could even your Holiness have con-
ferred upon me, than thus, and so signally, to have
made me a partaker in such joys ? "

" And yet," replied the Pope, smiling, *^ we will not
play the hypocrite. True it is that, if I had known of
this visit from Father Heytmers, and of the inestimable
treasure he would bring with him, I should have sent
for thee. But, my son, that was not the purport of our
commands."

The Chigi waited for his Holiness to proceed. The
expression of his face was ' apparently unaltered as to
its profound reverence: yet the brow began to wear
one that was thoughtful and vigilant. Leo detected
this — slight, almost imperceptible movement, though it
was.

*^ Agostino ! our long and fast friend I we want
another loan, and that instantly. , Canst thou help us?"

** May your unworthy servant humbly assure your
Holiness that he will most thankfully answer all ex-
penses for the printing of these dkcovered fragments.

248 COUNT abensberg; ob^

and will your Holiness deign to order the impression,
however costly it may be ?"

"Play not with us, Agostino," returned the Pope
with seriousness. " So much as we feel anxious for
this precious fragment, we have another and a deeper
care, and for that we want a loan."

The banker-merchant, more than he had ever done
before, showed embarrassment.

" What I have the salt mines lately failed, my son ?^
asked Leo, with surprise.

" We want aid," he continued, and with an earnest
emphasis,* « we want aid in that purpose to which we,
in our Pontificate, no more than do all good Italians,
look with ardour, as our highest hope. Wouldst thou
not have thine own fair, glorious country free f
Fancy thyself, Agostino — fancy thyself a Kegulus, or
a Fabius, or a Scipio, or a Marius even, and feel, as
either of them would have felt, at the sight of Gauls
or Teutons holding, not simply ravaging, our fair
Lombardy. Agostino 1 would either of them have
thought of scudi, when he was called to pay for his
native land's redemption ? Thou knowest that to that
redemption we vow ourselves : wilt thou help us with
thy scudi?"

" God wotteth," returned the merchant with enthu-
siasm, " how I abhor that Transalpine arrogance with
which our fair Italy is treated — ^how I long that its
every State may again be governed by its own native
prince, and by its own laws, never again to be ao-

♦ Nate 8.

^fm^mm^mi^^f^mm^^^iimii^^^mmmmmmmtmimdf^f^^

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 249

quainted with a foreign yoke ! Bat> may it please
your Holiness, where is the brute force that can deliver
ns ? We may be — we are — ^infinitely the superiors of
these barbarians, in skill, in letters, in science, in art.
Alas I how immeasurably they transcend us in their
numbers 1"

" True, good Agostino," replied the Pope, " but not
in the artifices and refinements of negotiation. Let us
but play off the French against the Teuton, let their
own mutual savageism destroy each the other, and your
loved Italy may regp.in her rights. We want but a
bold, though small soldiery in order to reseize them.
And we can have the Swiss to serve us, if we have but
the money."

** Then your Holiness shall have them, if your ser-
vant can command the sum," the Chigi answered with
a noble promptitude.

** But we want a hundred and fifty thousand crowns,
my son !" said Leo, scarcely daring to hope that a sum
so large could be obtained.

" They shall be in the hands of your Holiness's trea-
surer, this very day," said Agostino.

" Our blessing be upon thee, my son," exclaimed the
grateful Pontiff. " Let my nephew say what he will,
thy leases of both mines shall be renewed and length-
ened. And, furthermore, can we do aught else to serve
thee?"

The moment was very critical for the fate of Bianca
and her father; and the Chigi, a shrewd student of
human nature, felt it to be so.

250 COUNT areksbebg; ob.

He hesitated : " Whether or no," said Agost'ino to
himself, " will it be wise for me now, and at a juncture
so delicate, to urge the suit of my poor friends ? His
Holiness will not — cannot refuse ; and yet, will he not,
as soon as I have left, feel as if I had ungenerously
wrung from him the pardon of the Marchese, whom he
honestly regards as criminal ? And then, will he not
find out some plea for entrapping him again ? No :
I will say nothing— ask nothing— respecting him. Let
me but hold fast my influence and there may — oh !
may there I — come another moment when I can help
his honour as well as secure his safety."

Thus Agostino reasoned ; and he reasoned rightly :
for, even if he had obtained the release of the Marchese
della Scala, that release would have borne the character
of a purchased pardon. The accused would have re-
gained his liberty, but with a blighted name. And
Agostino knew that for his friend to have lived beneath
that blight would have been far bitterer than any tor-
tures.

We have said the Chigi hesitated. The PontiflF
might have pursued his proflerings, and the merchant
might possibly have been foiled, by his Sovereign's
skilful scrutiny, in his efforts to conceal his thoughts,
had not Eaffaello entered and announced that the Car-
dinal * * * * craved an audience.

'^ Adieu, then, good Agostino, and let us hear at
your earliest of your plans for printing Livy."

THE PAYS OF LUTHEB, 251

CHAPTER XXVL

** Your Eminence hath^ of late, been somewhat scant
in your attendance on our person," said Pope Leo, as
the Cardinal, after having paid his reverence, stood
waiting.

This Pontiff was ever mild and gracious to his sub-
jects — yea, was even disposed to look with incredulity
upon the charges that were constantly being brought
against individuals of them. His generous heart had,
for long, repudiated the allegations adduced against
the conspirators for his life. Nothing save stem facts
could or would have convinced him. It was, there-
fore, no easy task for even an influential councillor
to persuade him of the guilt of the Marchese della
Scala, an officer in whom he had had the utmost con-
fidence.

His tortuous policy, prompting him to cast the
crime of the conspiracy upon the Duke d'Urbino and
his lay agents, had, at last, disposed him to lend an ear
to the charges against the Marchese ; but his love for
Saffaello, and his regard for the Chigi, counterbalanced
somewhat this disposition.

252 COUNT abensberg; or^

Then, too, although the Cardinal was insuspicious of
it, the Pontiff had been apprized, by some of his police,
of the unwarranted interference with the courts of
justice of which he had been guilty, as in the recent
examination of the Marchese.

Altogether, his Holiness was unwontedly severe and
caustic when the Cardinal was presented. And as a
slight, yet not a trivial, addition to his uneasiness,
we may mention his annoyance at having been inter*
rupted at a moment of such intercourse with Agostino
Chigi.

" The servant of your Holiness hath been absent
from the Vatican, solely because the weightiest services
of the State have called him elsewhere," replied the
Cardinal in an humble tone.

" Ah 1 services of the State : your Eminence might,
however, have left them to their proper oflScers," said
Leo.

'* Then, alas 1 though I have been only eager for the
protection of the sacred life of your Holiness, I have
incurred displeasure !" said the Cardinal.

'^Our life? — our Ufe?" the Pontiff demanded
eagerly ; " why, your Eminence has discovered no fresh
conspiracy ?"

** Pardon me, may it please your Holiness, but,
rather than an accomplice in the late horrible parricide
that was attempted should escape, I have wrung from
my heart the roots of an ancient and a dear, most dear
friendship."

'^Indeed I" exclaimed the Pontiff, and in a tone of

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 253

such well-affected alarm and sympathy that the Car-
dmal himself^ adept though he was^ failed to penetrate
the veil that covered more than incredulity in his Holi-
ness.

" The Marchese della Scala^ my father's friend^ and
one of the captains of the army I "

'^ And what of him ? speak, your Eminence I speak
instantly I ^ cried Leo.

" Ah me I He was — I found it so (would that
another — any other — had so found it rather than my-
self !) — ^he was in league with the Duke d'Urbino.
The Cardinals, your Holiness, were but beguiled by
them. The Princes of the Church were tempted : they
never originated the crime."

" But prove that to us, your Eminence, and you will
restore peace to our half-broken heart. But show us
that, instead of having had vipers nestling in our own
bosom, there came to us, from without, some fascinating
serpents, and we shall, by the Holy Virgin, again feel
able to repose at home," answered Leo.

" That peace — that security— your Holiness shall
enjoy, then, and to the full, will you but entrust your
servant with the investigation," replied the Cardinal,
confidently. Then he added : —

** But forgive me I may it not be presumption, or a
breach of Christian charity to say it, the crown of
Christ's Vicar is endangered from another quarter."

"Indeed!" still more earnestly than before, ejacu-
lated the Pontiff.

" Yea, verily, your Holiness. The study of beauty.

254 COUNT abensbebg; or,

and the culture of high — ^the highest art — yea, even so
— the love of literature — ^boundless though may be the
apparent sacrifices to such muses — may — yes, do hide
within them a demon worship."

*^ Proceed, my son. We are aghast — are horrified I "

*' These men, may it please your Holiness, are — yes>
they are in concert with the Marchese. Let your
servant pray you I be not deceived, through your own
infinite ingenuousness : the fingers that can mix colours
for your glorious frescoes can mix medicaments of poi-
son. And the wealth that can be lavished on papyri of
antiquity can purchase death's plasters."

" My son, ^ charity hopeth all things.' It shall
be said never that Leo distrusted art or learning,
whatever may have been our diflSdence in the pro-
fessions of religion. Your proofs I your proofs, Mon-
signore 1 " demanded Leo, sternly.

" The proofs are at hand, your Holiness. "Would,
would that the Blessed Virgin had spared me this task !
Raffaello, Holy Father, is the lover of the daughter of
this Marchese, and she is now within the halls of
Agostino Chigi, whither she hath sought refuge, and
hath found it, from the oflScers of justice."

" Leave our presence, Monsignore 1 Leave it, or we
will hand you over to ministers you will not like. And
is it not enough of anguish for us, that some Princes
of our Church should conspire against a Father that
never wronged them ; but that here another of them
should coldly, calculatingly assail the greatest embodi-
ment of genius and the most unselfish, the most glo«

THE DAYS OF LUTHEE. 255

riously lavish patron of all learning ? Great Jove 1
is our reign to be one of rebellion against religion,
against taste, against knowledge ? Begone ! Lord
Cardinal."

His Eminence, as was natural, quivered from limb
to limb.

He could answer nothing to the Pontiff's adjura-
tions, save, —

The proofs ! the proofs ! Holy Father."
The proofs? the proofs?" returned Leo, fero-
ciously. " Yes ! we have the proofs. Lord Cardinal 1
proofs that thou didst beguile this unhappy Marchese
across thine own threshold ; proofs that thou hast
dared to interfere with our tribunals — bribing some
judges, threatening others, hoodwinking all ; proofs
that thou hast been outwitted in thy plottings by
men — mark thou ! — who held no office in our Holy
Church, but who — quick to sympathy with the op-
pressed — have now, Jupiter be praised I foiled thee.
Begone, Lord Cardinal ! thine own net hath taken
thee.

" Begone, my Lord I " again exclaimed Leo, as
the overwhelmed prelate stood rooted to the spot,
motionless, save that he trembled in every limb and
feature. "Would you be your own retiarius and
your own executioner in this miserable amphitheatre

of life?"

The Cardinal actually fled from the august pre-
sence. The amiable Pontiff — though so recently
and so strongly infuriated — relapsed into the

256 COUNT abensberg; ob^

deepest sorrow^ as soon as he found himself alone.
Meanwhile, notwithstanding, the Cardinal's accusa-
tions against Raifaello and Agostino Chigi were not
without their influence. So true it is that few men
have sufficient power within themselves to throw off
the colour of suspicion with which even the most
improbable calumny may dye the outer texture of
the spirit.

" I will, at all events, be watchful," said Leo,
musing. ** There must be gross, bad, yiUanous
falsehood in these insinuations. But would the Car-
dinal have been such a fool as to hazard those in-
sinuations, if there had been no ground for them
whatsoever? I owe Raffaello immense sums, and he
knows I cannot pay them ; and, such is his influence,
on my death he may even barter this my triple, mine
uneasy crown, for those vast moneys. And Agostino
Chigi — did he not hesitate just now ? Did he ever
hesitate before, when I asked a loan ? So 1 they wish
me gone 1

** Yet, silence, my uncharitable heart 1

"Dear BafFaelloI thou art too bright, too trans-
parent; and thou, too, Chigi, art too honest — yet let
me be on my guard."

Thus closed this very painful interview between
his Holiness and the Cardinal * ♦ * # , And now
we must leave both of them for awhile; indeed, we
must leave the Cardinal for some months, consigning
him to all the results that naturally were attendant
upon his humiliation, and the frantic passions of

m^^

XHE DATS OF LUTHER. 257

shame^ and circumvented policy that preyed upon him.
Whither he went In his disgrace, and what he pur-
posed, and how he succeeded, must appear here-
after.

VOL. I. S

258 COUNT AR£NSBEBG; ob^

CHAPTER XXVII.

LETTER I.

" Castle of Arensberg, Oct. 30, 1518.

**SiGNORA, — Your ladyship will feel surprised, on
opening a letter written in an unknown hand, yet
dated from a spot with whose name, I am told, you
must be well acquainted. I will, therefore, hasten to
meet and endeavour to dispel that surprise, by directly
stating that she, who has the honour of addressing
you these few lines, is the grateful dependant on the
Countess Arensberg, and, having been admitted to the
confidence of my Lord the Count, has been employed
by him thus to address your ladyship.

^^ Not to provoke any undue anxiety which my thus
acting as the Count's amanuensis might occasion, per^
mit me to state directly, that his lordship has met with
a severe wound in hunting, which disables,, we trust
for a short time only, his right arm. And yet, so weU
now and awake to life is he, that he feels an earnest
wish to convey to your ladyship the avowal of his
memory of past days. I simply adopt his own lan-
guage, as his humble friend and secretary in this act.

THE DAYS OF LUTHEE. 259

And suffer me to add^ that the Count's painful illness
would^ I am sure^ soon be alleviated^ if he could re-
ceive some tidings of the welfare of yourself and of the
noble Marchese della Scala.

** With the highest consideration and respect,

'^ I am, jour ladyship's most humble servant,

"Nina Wintbndobp."

«<

LETTER IL

^^Rome, December 3, 1518.
SiGKORA Mia, — Your kind and polite letter has
reached me only this morning, but my grateful recol-
lection of the kindness of the Count Arensberg during
his stay in Italy, compels me to answer you imme-
diately.

"Alas! I fear me that your considerateness has
made you veil some grievous accident that has hap«
pened to the Count ; and that he has met with a
far more serious calamity than that which your letter
would communicate. May I, as a sincere friend of
Count Arensberg, ask a somewhat fuller account of his
afflictions ?

" Pray, assure him that I do not forget him ; that
my father — who, alas! still remains a prisoner in St.
Angelo — forgets him neither ; and that should his
duties to . the State soon send him back to Bome
(and the sooner the more joyous will it be), we shall
exult in reciprocating the * loyalty of memory.'
'* I am, Signora Mia, your grateful servant,

"Bxanca PELLA SCAliA."

260 COUNT ARENSBERG; OR^

These two letters were written, as our readers
will have imagined, during the Count Arensberg's
long illness, in consequence of the wounds received
on the hunting-field. But to explain them further,
we must add that while Nina, the playmate of his
childhood, was in the tender watching of Count
Arensberg during his recovery, and that when, during
moments of half-possessed consciousness — such as often
elicit from a convalescent thoughts too consecutive to
be called delirious, and too self-unbosoming to be called
collected — ^he had murmured the name of Bianca, and
had soliloquized about her beauty, about her high
intellect, about her grace, about her peril, about the
perils of her father, about the Pope's revenge, about
scaffolds of blood, about shame — poor Nina, half-dis-
tracted though she was at these, the Count's ebullitions
of interest for another, nerved up her courage for the
self-sacrificing effort of obtaining comfort for her almost
brother.

The letters which we have transcribed, will show
our readers the relative conditions of the two young
women who wrote them. Will it be an intrusion oa
their sagacity to say, that the note of Nina Winten-
dorf reveals her delicacy of soul, her acquiescence in
the laws that controlled her own lowly rank, and yet, a
woman's sensitive fear, which nothing could disguise ?

** Kead it to me, dear Nina," said Count Arensberg
to his young nurse. " Bead it to me," he said again^
reaching forth his pallid hand, which held the second
of those letters we have transcribed.

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 261

Nina read it to him ; and, indeed, even a more sus-
picious man, and one who, in health, might have been
more alive to facts around him, could discover nothing
in the calm, self-controlled, precise tone of voice that
Nina gave to it.

"Very unsatisfactory, is it not, dear Nina?" said
the Count, breathing heavily a she lay, still unable
to rise from his couch. '^ Very unsatisfactory, dear
Nina I" he continued. "I have much to fear for her
father, the brave old Marchese ; and the Lady Bianca
says nothing satisfactory. I wish I was at Rome ! "
Would you were, my dear lord!" returned Nina,

so that you were in health. Ah ! would to God you
had never left the eternal city, and then you never
would have been wounded !"

Arensberg could only smile faintly at her earnestness.

He continued silent for some time, evidently ponder-
ing over the letter that had just been read to him, and
taxing his powers to clear up what his sagacity told
him was intentionally obscure.

He was thus engaged, when his brother Rupert
broke in upon the quiet of the sick chamber, bear-
ing with him letters which a royal courier had just
brought for Arensberg, and for which he waited in-
stant answers.

It will be enough for us to state that, on reading
them, the Count found that the Emperor Maximilian
had died the week before, and that the writer, Fred-
erick of Saxony, would have the young noble be imme-
diately near his person.

262 COUNT abensbebg; or.

a

Forgive me, dear Nina," he said, after a short
pause, ''if I am ungracious in begging to be left
alone with Rupert. These parchments are about
affairs of state, and you, I know, would wish to shun
them.**

" Only promise me that you will not exert yourself
to write, my lord, in answer," said Nina anxiously, and
then left the room.

"And now, Rupert, for your first act in public
life!" said the Count to his young brother. ''You
must sit down and write for me to our liege lord."

" I heard the courier tell the very grooms that the
Emperor was dead, and that our wise Frederick would
soon have the throne."

"The fool I" returned the Count, somewhat sharply.
" Then let the grooms believe him, if they will. Read
this, Rupert," he continued, handing him the parch-
ments ; " but first, though it be but for form's sake,
take oath of secrecy in the service of our princely master.
If not now, there soon may be occasion for reserve."

Rupert coloured, for he felt wounded at the pre-
caution of his .brother. But, as quickly, he drew
his small dagger from his side, and kissed the cross
upon the hilt, in pledge that his secrecy should be
inviolable.

Now, read /Aa^," said Arensberg, affectionately.

We shall just as rigidly exact thine oath when we
give thee the spurs of knighthood. God grant that
that may be right soon, and may I be thy god-
father 1"

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 263

This was said as opportunely as sincerely^ for it
soothed the susceptibility of Bupert, and he sat down
readily and proudly to his new commission.

The letter was as .follows : —

" To the Count Arensberg of Arensberg,

**0n the receipt of these letters, we wish you to
hasten instantly to our Court at Frankfort. If the
rumour hath not already reached you, know that, on the
12th of January, the King of the Romans* departed
this life ; and as, during the Interregnum, the Vicariat
of our Saxony devolves upon ourselves,^ and you have
so won our favour during your recent service at Rome,
we would more especially have your aid and counsel.

" Given at this our palace at Dresden.

" Frederick."

"February 3rd, 1519.

"May I speak?*' asked Rupert, with a dash of
boyish petulance, yet so archly, that his graver brother
could but smile.

** Speak," returned the Count.

"Then, my lord," said Rupert, giving a studied
gravity to the title — my lord, ^' may I ask what
means his Highness about ^ the Vicariat devolving on
himself during the Interregnum ? * "

" It means simply this," returned his brother : " that

♦ For the reason of Frederick's giving this title to the Emperor,
see Robertson, iii. 221.
t Ibid. iii. 264.

264 COUNT arensbebg; or^

until an Emperor is elected^ our good and sage Elector
hath an Emperor's ecclesiastical authority within his
own dominions."

Then, thank God for that I" cried Rupert, earnestly ;

and may the Interregnum continue ever ! Dear
Father Martin, whose life has been a torment, will, at
last, have some peace."

** Take care, Rupert 1" said the Count, ahnost sternly.
*^ Take care ! If thou become a partizan, thy vows of
silence may be in danger."

^/I have vowed," was all the young Graf would
answer, as he bit his lips.

There was a moment of continued silence, and,
truth to tell. Count Arensberg, who had already ac-
quired the calm dispassionateness so necessary to diplo-
macy, was turning in his mind whether or no he was
acting wisely in committing so frank and earnest a
youth to the perils of his honour. But he had studied
Rupert well and thoroughly, and he dared the ven-
ture.

" And now," he said, *' thou must answer this note
of his Highness for me, Rupert. Sit thee down and
do so."

It gave him infinite satisfaction to see with what
promptness, and how uninquiringly, Rupert gave up
himself to obedience to command. He thence augured
that his young brother was now starting forth in suc-
cessful conflict with his own impulses, which, generous
though they were, might need the dictates of prudence
to marshal them for action.

€C

, THE DAYS OP LUTHER. 265

Write, dear Rupert, —

•* The Count Arensberg, of Arensberg, to his Serene
Highness Frederick, Elector of Saxony.

" May it please your Electoral Highness, your
liege subject and servant begs your gracious pardon
that, from his right arm having been for a time dis-
abled, he is compelled to employ an amanuensis to
answer the gracious summons of your Highness.

*^ Your Highness's grateful subject and servant will
command immediate preparations to start for Dresden,
praying that, Tshould aught impede his quick arrival,
your Highness will most graciously consider his long
illness as the cause. Dated, Feb. 10, 1519, from the
Castle of Arensberg.

" Your Serene Highness's

** Devoted subject and servant,

" Arensberg.

*^ Now despatch the courier, and take measures with
Essel that we leave to-night. Murmur not, for my
sake : order me a litter ; and, perhaps, before we reach
the court, I may be able to mount my horse. But go
I must, and thou shalt go with me."

Here we may leave this scene, unintruding upon
any of those social details that preceded the painful
effort of the Count Arensberg to obey the summons of
his Sovereign. It will require but little, if any, imagi-
nation, to conceive of the loyal suppression of all her
personal fears by the Countess-mother; of the quiet.

266 COUNT ABENSBEB6; OB,

yet intense alarm of Nina ; of the dignified conscious-
ness of the importance of his new trust and office with
which Rupert issued his commands ; of the ready sym-
pathy of the young page^ Count Mellendorf ; of the
assiduous care and skill of the good equerry and the
followers under his command. It will be enough to
say, that the call to active and responsible duty told
upon the whole frame of Count Arensberg, as the
trumpet of the battle-field^ and that it helped him, for
the time, to cast off much of his immediate weakness
of body.

THE DATS OP LIJTHEK. 267

CHAPTER XXVIII.

But what was going on in other parts of the Castle
Arensberg, during the scene depicted in the previous
chapter ?

Nina, in retiring from the chamber of the Count,
was pensively passing along one of its extensive corri-
dors, with the purpose of repairing to the distant wing
in which the Countess-mother resided ; when, through
an open door, she saw a party intent on hospitable
treatment of one who was evidently travel-worn, yet
whose dress and bearing showed him to be above the
ordinary class of even a royal courier. And there, too,
she descried the Countess seated, and in earnest con-
versation with him.

There, then, could be no scruple as to her intrusion ;
and roused not merely by a curiosity that was natural,
but by an undefined interest in the guest, whom she
recognized, she entered.

The quick eye of the lady-mother detected, in-
stantly, a surprising vivacity in the fatigued traveller,
when he rose to greet Nina as she entered; and she
involuntarily, yet thoughtfully, smiled.

268 COUNT AREKSBER6; OR^

" May I trust that Mistress Nina is well and happy ?"
said the courier, with grave, courteous earnestness.

" Well and happy. Master Schwartz," returned
Nina, in a cordial tone. ** Save that your mission
hither has given our lord and master some cares of
moment, for which his illness unbefits him."

" They will rally his strength — they will rally his
strength, Nina," eagerly returned the Countess. " 111
as he is, his noble heart will beat strongly and whole-
somely at the news that Master Schwartz hath
brought him. Pray, sit you down, sir, and continue
your repast ; for you say you must return back to-
night, to Dresden, with the answer of the Count.
And will it weary you if, while my son prepares his
answer to his Highness, I but question about news — I
mean not news as to your despatches ?"

" I need no more to refresh myself wherewithal,
thanks — great thanks — to the hospitable providence of
your ladyship," said the courier ; ^* and pray, therefore,
question me. But can I obtain some few minutes'
audience with the great and good Melancthon, before
I leave ? I learned that he was again a guest within
your castle, and," added he, casting a quick, meaning
glance toward Nina, "my hopes of seeing once more
mine honoured tutor urged me to volunteer on this
mission to the Count."

" You . rightly call him, sir, * the great and good
Melancthon.' Essell" she continued, "thou wilt find
means for knowing if he will interrupt his studies and
see this gentleman."

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 269

** I have but little to tell your ladyship more than
I have told already," said Master Schwartz, whom now
we must introduce to our readers as a student of Wit-
temberg, who had been at Dresden on the arrival of
the news of Maximilian's death, and who, from his deep
interest in the fate of Martin Luther, was anxious to
be the first and the most authentic authority for a fact
that bore so importantly upon the interests of the great
Keformer. We may add in passing, as our sagacious
readers will have surmised already, there was another,
though more covert, attraction for him at the Castle of
Arensberg.

" You have just told us, sir," returned the Countess,
**that our Emperor-elect is dead May I ask, has
rumour bruited aught as to who may be his suc-
cessor ?"

" Of whom could our Fatherland dream, save of
Frederick the Sage ?" asked Schwartz, earnestly.
" Who, but he, is the toast at all our college revels ?
Who, so surely aa himself, can make Germany at
peace with her own self? Who, so well as he, can
know and appreciate and realize the great intents of
Father Martin? And that, I know, your ladyship
will admit to be one of his Highnesses most glorious
claims upon the throne of Caesar."

"But are no competitors adduced?" rejoined the
Countess.

"Oh, yes I" said Schwartz, "but what of that?
Who is Charles of Spain, and who is Francis of
France?"

270 COUNT abensbebg; or^

Schwartz would have given rein to his eloquence
(for which he was beginning to he much distinguished
at his uniyersitj), and might have adduced some of the
most forcible objections that had already been mooted
against both the Spanish and French monarchs^ had
not the attention of the little circle been interrupted
by the appearance of Melancthon in person.

It was pleasing to observe the greetings between this
young, but distinguished, professor and his not, much
younger pupil. The latter, as if caught in an act of
assumption, blushed deeply; but, rising quickly, ad-
vanced towards the former with an homage that would
have well befitted the presence of a king, yet with an
eye of enkindled pride and affection that seemed to
say, *^ This is mine own great yet gentle master." And
that master in letters ever was as gentle and as un-
assuming as he was great ; and the reception which ^e
gave his pupil was calm yet cordial, and without one
particle of condescension.

*^ I did not wait for thee to come to me, good
Schwartz," he said; *^for I learned that thou wast
weary with long travel, . and wast strengthening thyself
for further riding. Let me be seated beside thee,
while thou doest proper duty to the wine-flask. I
will not," he added, smiling, ** scan its growing
emptiness."

" And we will leave you," interposed the Countess ;
** for, methinks, this royal messenger wishes a private
audience. Come, dear Nina."

"Nay, nayl" returned Schwartz, with sudden eager-

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 271

ness, and looking deprecatingly towards Nina. ** Pray
let me not be the cause of your witlidrawal. I dare
assume no such importance in what I have reverently
wished to state to the Professor. I have but to say to
him what your ladyship has heard already^ and then to
proffer my poor services in bearing any letters to the
capital^ should you^ sir/' he added^ addressing Melanc-
thon^ " deign to honour me with such trust."

" Then will the noble Countess consult her own
gracious pleasure ? ^ courteously returned Melancthon.

** Nina and I will wait and listen ; and Doctor Me-
lancthon must not scruple to request us to withdraw
whensoever he may deem it prudent. But, fair sir,"
she continued, speaking to Schwartz, ^* from what I
gather from your own speech, you will only find in
both myself and Nina fast friends in the cause with
which you sympathize."

Schwartz bowed with a look of ingenuous pleasure ;
whereas Nina betrayed no little confusion —what with
her silent anxiety about the steps that Count Arens-
berg might, at that instant, be taking ; her new curio-
sity as to the grave news that Schwartz had just
divulged ; and, above all, her uneasiness at the imequi-
vocal, though most courteous, glances that he had cast
upon her.

To all this the undisturbed, gentle gravity and
patience of Melancthon were in contrast ; and it was
not until all the little circle were seated that he broke
silence.

" And now, Schwartz, open thy budget But shall I

272 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

first play the seer," he asked, smiling, " and prove to
thee that I know beforehand all that thou wouldst tell
me? Thou wouldst say, that our Emperor-elect is
dead ; that, at least imtil the throne of the Csesars is
again refilled, the Church will be under the gracious
rule of our own wise Frederick; and that thou wouldst
tender thy best services to our Doctor Martin for the
good use of a time of such facility. Say I not well,
Schwartz ? "

A short silence followed, during which Melancthon
observed* a shade of disappointment, almost of vexation,
upon the brow of the young scholar. Taking him
by the hand, he soon, by considerate words, restored
his equanimity.

**Take it not ill, dear Schwartz, afi if I had been
bantering. I but meant to give thee one more proof
of my knowledge of thy character, and of the con-
fidence I repose in it. As to the facts of Maximilian's
death, I heard it from thine own mouth, whilst I was
seated at my study-window, when thou didst reach the
castle. As to the immediate consequences to our
religious movement, I needed be no seer to foretell
their value. And as to thy readiness to help in using
them, has thy tutor been so undisceming as not to
augur thy thoughtfulness and thine honour?"

Schwartz could answer nothing ; but his grateful look
was more, as an acknowledgment of the kindness and
trust of Melancthon, than would have been a host of
thanks.

" I would hasten back to the room with which you

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 273

hsfve so hospitably favoured me," said Melancthon to
the Countess, ^* and with your ladyship's pennission I
would send some letters unto Dresden, on the return of
this my friend and pupiL"

" By all means," replied the Countess ; " and Doctor
Melancthon will not forget that the courier will have
to depart right soon, or I mistake the promptitude of
my son the Count, ill though he is."

" * Hora ruit,' indeed ; but, be your ladyship assured,
I will be no detainer of my young friend,'' said Me-
lancthon, as he instantly left the hall.

"I leave you for some moments, for I must hold
myself in readiness for any message from my son the
Count. May I entrust to my young friend Nina — an
old acquaintance, is she not?— 'to discharge the wel-
come with which we shall ever receive vou to Castle
Arensberg?"

So saying, she left the two young acquaintances
together. We cannot, in truth, affirm that the
Countess did so merely to stand prepared to attend
to any wishes from her eldest son ; for her know-
ledge of human character had detected something in the
looks and the modulations of the speech of Schwartz ;
and, with her sensitive dread lest anything more than
brotherly or sisterly affection should arise between
Nina and the Count, she was more than ready and
anxious to cherish, if practicable, a preventive.

These two young persons were thus left together ;
and, to understand their mutual position, it will now
be well to state, that Schwartz had been from Nina's

VOL. I. T

274 COUNT ARENSBERG; OB,

earliest days her playmate; that, humble though was
his origin, his fine ardent mind — selecting learning as
its expression — had so far raised him in society, that
although Nina, through the patronage of the Countess,
had outdistanced him, he had felt himself warranted in
indulging the love of his childhood.

And of the blessed hours of that human spring-
time; of its flowers and green fields, and bubbling
brooks ; of the coy plays, quarrels, and loving makings-
up of its breezy yet smiling days ; of its infent
vows, and kisses, and tears, frettings and joys ; of all
these, in which Nina and Schwartz had been such
sharers, neither of them was forgetful. Yet, to say
truth, Nina, not from her long separation from the
betrothed of her childhood, nor from low, degrad-
ing ambitions of higher life, but from the power of
gratitude to her kind patrons, had suffered the earlier
emotions of her heart to become eclipsed. And when
our readers will recollect all this ; when they will but
think that almost unconsciously she had given her
heart to Count Arensberg; when, too, they recall
that she was in that most painful of all incertitudes,
namely, that of a woman loving, and being assured
that that love was unretumed, nay, fearing lest it
was put aside as absurd, — they will enter into her
difficulties, not of heart but of self-command, as she
thus found herself alone with Schwartz.

" Does Mistress Nina approve of Schwartz's ardour
in this great movement?" he asked, but somewhat
restrainedly.

TIIJS DATS OF LUTHEB. 275

*^ Fully, wholly," returned Nina, glad to avail herself
of some subject that gave her a hope that one more
personal might be avoided.

"And will Nina give to Schwartz the smiles of
olden times, while he struggles on in this new life
that lies before him ? Nina used to bless him before
he began to climb the crag, in order to get a flower
for her. Nina used to watch him as he vaulted over
its dark chasms, and crept round its barbed points,
and Nina then would grow pale and shriek, yet bless
him again and again when he brought back the woven
chaplet. WiU Nina do so still?''

It was well for both these young hearts that no
answer could be given ; for, meanwhile, there entered
the page. Count Mellendorf, bearing back from his
noble master despatches for the Elector.

"My Lord the Count," he said, with a considera-
tion in his behaviour that showed he knew he ad-
dressed more than an ordinary courier — "my Lord
the Count would have you bear back, as speedily
as may be, these papers to our Sovereign. And he
commands me say, that but for his severe illness he
would in person thank you, sir, for your faithful and
loyal service."

The page had left the room, and Nina, pale and
agitated, was about to retire also, when Schwartz, in a
manly and quiet, yet determined manner, walked up
to her, and gently laying his hand on hers, said
gravely,—

" Stay, dear Nina, for a few short moments. Unless

276 COUNT AB£NSB£BG; OB,

you are indeed greatly changed, you will not grudge
me them. I cannot go from hence, on the new career
opening before me, without seeking to know if I may
indulge a hope of ever realizing my only idea of earthly
happiness — the bliss of one day calling you my wife. I
am," he continued, after a slight pause — *^ I am, as you
know, an honest German of the burgher class, and, per-
chance, my speech may be more rude, my mien may be
less refined, than the voice and the demeanour of those
with whom, in this lordly eastle, you have for years
associated. But if ever honest and devoted love dwelt
in a human heart, it dwells in mine towards yourself.
Amid all the great interests that are now affecting our
Fatherland — yea, even the whole human race — interests
with which, God knows, my heart beats with as warm
a sympathy as can the hearts of the great princes and
prelates on whom they seem more immediately to depend
— amid all these I say, dear Nina, that my soul craves
for your love, for your alliance, while I am battling in
the strife. It is its master passion. It has grown with
my growth and strengthened with my strength* Speak,
dear Nina I Can you — will you— K^rush me to the earth,
by destroying this fond hope ?"

Nina answered nothing, but she trembled.

*^ A dark foreboding there is over me," resumed
Schwartz. " You must be changed — at least to me I
Speak, Nina I — anything is better than suspense."

Still Nina gave no answer. Her eyes were fixed
upon the ground ; for she dreaded to raise them to the
manly countenance of her lover. To her this love was

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 277

no new tale : she had long dreaded this moment, for she
felt she loved him but only as a sister ; nor was she
one of those heartless maidens who are willing, from
coquetry, to encourage the devotion of a lover they yet
mean to reject.

She spoke not, and Schwartz — for the human heart
is prone to believe what it wishes — thought that her
silence might proceed from maiden bashfulness. He
therefore continued, —

*^ Nina, my father and mother sanction and approve
my choice. My mother declares that there is no
maiden in all Thuringia she would so soon call
daughter as yourself. Will you be to her a daugh-
ter?"

Nina slowly gasped forth, ** I cannot be your wife :
you shall be to me as a beloved and valued friend —
your wife I can never be !"

Schwartz struggled to speak calmly.

"And why not, Nina?" he said. "I surely, at
least, have a right to ask, in my agony, do you love
another, then?"

His whole soul seemed to hang on her reply.

It rived Nina's very soul to see the bitter disappoint-
ment, occasioned by her silence, upon the fine, manly
countenance of Schwartz. She felt that, unless she
gave a direct answer to the question he asked, it would
be impossible to convince him that his suit was hopeless.
Yet what modest woman, with a proper sense of dig-
nity, ever confesses an unreturned affection ?

" I respect you ; I admire your character, dear

278 COUNT arensbekg; or,

Schwartz," she murmured ; " but of love or marriage I
think not — I wish not to think. I am happy as I am."

But Schwartz was not to be thus put off. The
young German burgher's idea of happiness was bound
up in winning Nina Wintendorf, as his bride.

" Nina," he said, again taking her hand, " listen to
me once more. You are not speaking honestly to me.
Something has changed you since the eve of the day
I first entered the University of Wittemberg. Re-
member you not that I then told you, that if I ever
became a scholar or gained any other virtuous emi-
nence, I should owe it to the impulse of the hope of
gratifying you ? You then did not bid me to despair ;
something, therefore, must have occurred since that
happy evening. If you prefer another, say so, and the
rough German burgher will be too proud to ask from
compassion what he had so long and so fondly hoped
to receive from love — I mean this little hand," he
continued, pressing it fervently to his trembling
lips.

" Oh, Nina !" he resumed, after a long pause, ** be-
fore your reject me utterly, think how happy we might
be together. How many hopes, and aspirations, and
tastes, have we not in common ! I love learning ; I have
obtained some praise for this love, from those whose
praise is fame. Who, than yourself, can more grace-
fully and eflficiently help a man to those uses to which
that learning, especially in these days, ought to be
applied ? You might save me, dearest Nina^ from be-
coming a mere book-worm. Oh, think! these times

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 279

are big with events the most important. Our country,
our class, both are being elevated in the scale of na-
tions and of humanity. The days — the barbarous days
I call them — when noble birth alone was supposed to
elevate a man — when all placed by their Creator in a
lower grade were looked down upon as the very beasts
that perish — ^these days are passing away. Learning
and virtue may now elevate to equality with the highest
noble in the land. Commerce, which gives power and
wealth to cities, is now teaching our own German towns
that there are resources in the masses ; and those
masses are using, not abusing, the capabilities God
has given them. But to leave all this — think, dearest
Nina I You share, I know, with me in those higher
religious, as well as political, aspirations which our
great, our good Doctor Martin has evoked for us from
the pure, the unadulterated Word of God. I have a
competence from my parents, but share it with me,
Nina ; and, to speak of lesser things, our humble board
will be graced by Doctor Martin, in his full flow of
religious thought, of learning, and of humour, and by
mine own refined and accomplished Master Melanc-
thon ; or, to speak of higher things, I may, sustained
by your gentle and therefore inspiring impulse, attain
both power and the right tendency in wielding it.
Surely, dearest Nina, such associates and such lofty
duties would leave you no room to repine after lordly
halls and their knightly visitors."

" Nay," returned Nina, half smiling, " though I
affect not to despise noble birth, as you seem to do.

280 COUNT arensbebg; ob^

yet, not being noble myself, I think I sbould be hap-
pier with society of my own degree ; and the society of
such glorious and exalted characters as our great
Doctor Martin, and the learned Melancthon, would be
a boon I should highly prize — to say nothing," she
added affectionately, " of a certain Hermann Schwartz,
who wants neither intellect, nor learning, nor worth,
nor lofty aims, to make him a desirable companion.
I doubt if I should be worthy of the manly love you
so freely proffer, and for which — though I am com-
pelled to repeat that I can never be your wife — I
feel grateful, most grateful, believe me I "

A silence ensued. Nina, grieved at the pain she
felt compelled to inflict — and Schwartz, from the vio-
lence of his emotion, were both unable to speak.

During this suspense Count Arensberg entered the
hall, moving across it with pain and difficulty. He
perceived directly how affairs stood between Nina and
the royal messenger ; and, but for the urgency of duty,
his feelings of delicacy would have made him retire
without a word.

But the injunctions of his Sovereign to use all haste,
rendered such thoughtful courtesy impossible.

" Forgive me, dear Nina, for thus unchivalrously
breaking in upon your conversation with one who, my
mother tells me, is your old friend. And forgive me,
sir, I beseech of you," he added, addressing Schwartz :
^^ his Highness, our gracious master, insists upon all
speed, and you will make myself bounden to you,
as also you will do good service to the State, i^

^^^^^^'^^^^mifmi^^mammmmfmmmm^msmimmm^mimfmm

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 281

without delay, you will bear back to Dresden the
packet I have entrusted to your careful keeping.

" But," continued Arensberg, " tell me, if some
hours' rest are not essential to your discharge of duty.
Never think, young man, that ardour in the State ser-
vice can be diminished by a prudent calculation on our
powers in the discharge of its grave duties. Take rest,
I beg of you^ if your calm judgflient should determine
that it is necessary."

" I have but to ask your lordship to provide me
with another steed — mine own is too far spent in the
service of his Highness — and I will be in the saddle on
the instant," returned Schwartz.

"I would that I could spare you this effort and
exertion," answered the Count ; " still, believe me, I
am not capriciously exacting on your energies. Ill as
I am myself, I must follow you as quickly as possible."

Hermann Schwartz was too unnerved to allow him
to reply. The Count withdrew rapidly; and then
followed the bitter moment of the young German's
ife.

On the Count's entrance into the hall, the eyes of
Schwartz had been opened, and he saw clearly that
of which he had hitherto formed only a dull sus-
picion.

Nina, at the first sight of the Count, blushed even
much more than the interruption of a love-scene could
have occasioned. Happily for his own future peace of
mind, as also for his feelings towards Nina, Schwartz's
shrewd eye detected no appearance of shame. But the

282 COUNT abensberg; ob^

crimsoned face and neck of Nina instantly made her
lover think that his suspicions were right.

** Enough, Nina : I see that you love another. God
grant this love may never cause you the agony I now
feel ! But remember" — and, as he said this, his fea-
tures became stem to an unwontedness that made Nina
tremble — " but remember, that when we love out of
our degree — when a man or woman, such as you or I,
loves any one of that haughty class which deems us
to be of but earth's common clay — nought save misery
can follow. God save you, henceforth, from the bitter
pangs I am now enduring 1 Nina — mine own long-
loved and cherished Nina! — days of disappointment,
days of deep, dark anguish may come to you. I see it
all— and do not smile back upon me, as if I were affect-
ing to be a prophet — I see it all, through the vista of
the close-coming future : thou, mine own cherished
Nina, wilt . . . ."

Stay ! " exclaimed Nina, as Schwartz rose to leave.

What mean you ? You are mistaken."

Stay I dare not!" replied Schwartz, mournfully;
and he hurriedly left her presence.

THE DATS or LUTHER. 283

CHAPTER XXIX.

While the Count Arensberg is performing his journey
to Dresden^ we must beg our readers to allow us to
transfer them to the town of Wittemberg, a town
which, notwithstanding the smallness of its size and the
political unimportance of its position, had attained an
imposing rank in Germany. We have had already to
make incidental allusions to the university which had
been established within its walls, but, the claims of our
tale now require us to give a more exact description of
its origin, and its condition at this period.

We, as Englishmen, must not hide from our sight
that, while our own universities— Cambridge somewhat,
but Oxford unanimously— were presenting the most
furious obstacles to the revival of Greek literature,*
the Princes of Germany, as patrons of letters, found
a ready and thankful co-operation among their people.
And it will be instructive to us to recall, that whilst
Philip Melancthon was attracting to the university of
Wittemberg (a university that had been established

♦ Note 9.

284 COUNT ARENSBERG; OE,

only so recently as in 1502 by Frederick the Wise) the
best students of all nations by his great lectures in
Greek, at this very time the illustrious Erasmus had
to record — " England has two universities. In both,
lectures on Greek are delivered: at Cambridge, in-
deed, but with sufferance, where its chancellor is
Bishop Fisher, its most distinguished man both as to
his life and his theological erudition. But at Oxford,
while we admit that some of its students are not, in
a mere ordinary sense, but exemplarily, devoted to
Grecian studies, the efforts to give a general impulse
to such pursuits are met with the most atrocious, yea.
Bacchanalian resistance."

Meanwhile the small town of Wittemberg, the resi-
dence of the Electors of Saxony, had become a scene of
deeper interest and excitement to a learned man, than
any great court splendour and magnificence could have
awakened. On this point, the truth of the words of
Luther has been confirmed by historians whose impar-
tiality remains unquestioned. Luther says of Wittem-
berg, " It is a complete hive ;" and of the truth and
appropriateness of this figure we need have no doubt.
The honey of Hymettus attracted unto Wittemberg
the lovers and purveyors of the sweets of Grecian
knowledge. Melancthon, the proteg6 of a sovereign
powerful yet not rich ; Melancthon, young and compa-
ratively undistinguished by any great European uni-
versity honours ; Melancthon, despite the special reli-
gious partnership that he adopted, could and did hold
forth to Europe the rich, succulent flowers of old Hel-

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 285

lenic thought and beauty, and it were strange if such
attractions had not lured a multitude from the banks
of the Cam and of the Isis.

**I have heard," says a contemporary, '^from our
preceptors, that students from all nations came to
Wittemberg to hear Luther and Melancthon. As soon
as they got within sight of the town, they returned
thanks to God with clasped hands.*

It was in the rooms of Martin Luther, reader and
professor of theology in this young yet glorious college,
that the following scenes took place, early in the spring
of 1519.

" Dost thou think the Dean will take notice of this
uproar?" asked Luther of Melancthon, who was seated
opposite to him at a rude table, where, among a crowd
of books, parchments, and papers, there stood a foaming
tankard. " Will he interfere ? Listen."

The cause of his putting such a question was this : —
sundry students, of the university, were in the act
of singing, somewhat uproariously, we must admit,
beneath the windows of Doctor Martin. They had
dared to do so, well knowing the leniency with
which the great Professor ever treated the innocent
exuberance of youthful spirits. Li fact, on many
former occasions, when their voices had been well-
attuned and their songs worthy of the melody, Luther
had been known to throw open his casement and unite
right joyously in the chorus.

It woidd seem, however, that on this evening the

♦ Note 10.

286 COUNT abensbebg; ob^

political condition of their fatherland had roused them
to undue excitement. What, then, was their surprise
when the casement did indeed open; but, instead of
the loved yoice chiming in with the chorus, it shouted,
in a kind yet commanding tone, " Begone, ye knaves !
Wist ye not that I need quiet for the morrow's read-
ings?"

** Shall we have lectures to-morrow, Magister Re-
verendissime et Doctissime ? " asked one of the fore-
most of the young college revellers, doffing his cap in
unaffected homage.

"Lectures? and why not, sir?" demanded Martin
Luther.

**Is not this an Interregnum, most Reverend Fa-
ther?" returned the student.

** Oh I yoimg men — young men — begone, I beg, I
command you I And so ye must become Provencals !
must ye? Albeit, I like your music. Go to your
homes, good lads, and bethink ye, this is time for
grave prayer, not for merriment."

So saying, Martin Luther shut up the window.
** I like all that," said he, as he drew the bolts. " I
like it, Philip. I like it, for it is the voice of the
honest Burschencraft. I like it, for it is human. God
wotteth, I would sooner have such hearty roundelays
than a thousand of your mock-formal psalters from
such young men."

** They will now retire to their rooms," returned
Melancthon, evasively ; " and may we. Doctor, resume
our subject?"

THE DAYS or LUTHEE. '287

" Philip," said the great Reformer, ** thou^ at least,
wilt not misconstrue my conduct. Should I ape those
wretched, miserable imps of Satan, those monks who,
while loving and abusing their good cheer, have been
wont, and so are still, to look down in sanctified con-
tempt upon the playsomeness of boyhood? Philip,
hear me : dear to me — and thou knowest how dear it
is — dear to me ^s is the truth of God, I could not,
would not, peril my whole life, my being, on its behalf,
did I not believe it to be the lover of, and not merely
the compromiser with, a broad humanity ! Thou dost
not, surely, condemn this late boyish outburst ? "

" Nay — oh I nay. Doctor Martin," returned Me-
lancthon ; " yet I would that we had not been inter-
rupted, for time and thought are precious."

" Then so do not I," said Luther, briskly ; " that
slight breeze of human thought and sympathy will
have put to flight many a vapour. Come, dear Philip,
wake up, I pray you, and be not so over-anxious. In
the name of the God we serve I what but joy should
touch our hearts, now that the wise Frederick will
have the rule, for some months at least ? Come we to
the point. Shall we use our influence in hope that he
may be elected Emperor ? Were we to gain tkat^
where would be Pope Leo ? Did not Maximilian even
talk of consecrating himself when Leo was so obstinate
about the empire ? What if we obtained that Frede-
rick should become his Holiness I "

To explain this, it is desirable to say that the buoy-
ancy of Martin Luther's spirits was ever irrepressible.

RM^a

288 COUNT abensberg; or,

even under the most trying circumstances ; and, fur-
thermore, that beneath all this buoyancy there was
ever the strong, equable under-current of grave feeling
and purpose. There may be light, flippant breakers in
shallow waters ; but there are also the «portive, curling
waves from the deep heart of the Atlantic.

" First of all, dear master," reiterated Melancthon,
"think for yourself; think for that great cause for
which your own safety is indispensable. But secure
that your own person shall be inviolable, even in the
teeth of Leo, and then let us think of other things."

" Bah I Melancthon," answered Luther ; " and must
I spend all my days in thinking of my own poor
miserable self ? Have I more than one head to lose,
brother ? Let us but gain that our Elector be made
Emperor, and how many more heads, thinkest thou,
will then not stand more firmly upon their shoulders ? "

" I am not so sure of that, dear master, should
your own fall," said Melancthon. " But pray, waive
all this, and tell me, wiU the Elector still refuse to ^ve
you up to Rome's tendw mercies ? How has he met
the Pope's late attempt at cajolery in sending him the
golden rose ? "

" How has he met the cajolery of the holy blunderer,
dost thou ask, Philip?" returned Luther, laughing.
" Why, Leo the Crafty is no match . for Frederick
the Wise, and now he will find it out. True, it was
playing a deep game, was it not, for Pope Leo to
send his Highness a distinction which has been gene-
rally reserved for Kings and Emperors? And the

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 289

bauble might bare caught even an Emperor, and poor
Father Martin might thus have easily been purchased.
The holy knave ! " continued Luther, waxing warmly ;
" and so he thought of carrying some of his base
wares to even the court of Frederick the Sage ! The
base truckster ! Yet T pardon him for this tomfoolery.
A golden rose for Martin Luther I God wotteth, I
will show him that if he could have struck that bar-
gain, his success in trade would have been greater
than if he had sold his base, low, lying, blasphemous
Indulgences for the whole of the wealth of Europe and
the Indies in return."

"But has the bargain been declined?" asked Me*
lancthon anxiously.

" Declined I" Luther shouted out — " declined ! Why,
the Elector declined to receive even the golden rose
from the hands that brought it.* The present of the
god Leo was transferred to the keeping of a servant
of the Court. And what say you to the Elector's
answer to the request for my own poor body> as
the purchase-fee ? * Assure the Pope,' his Grace said
coldly, ^that I am an obedient son of Holy Mother
Church; that I entertain very great respect for his
Pontifical Holiness; but that I wish Father Martin
to be examined by judges not liable to suspicion/
Was this saying less to his Infallibility than that he,
Frederick himself, saw through- him ? "

** Thank God for thatl" said Melancthon gravely,
as he heaved a sigh — a sigh, not of terror but of

• Note 11.

VOL. I. u

290 COUNT AREN8BERG; OR,

relief. *' And now," he added, *' now that our Elector
is at least Regent of Germany for a time, he will surely
be more firm than ever."

"Yes," said Luther, "and to keep him so, let us
do our utmost to make him Emperor. What said
Maximilian — ^the weak, timid Maximilian? Said he
not of our Holy Father, ^ This Pope has acted
towards me like a rogue. I can fairly say that I
have never found in any Pope I have met with,
sincerity or good faith ; but, please God, I hope this
will be the last of them.' Philip I "^ — and Luther rose>
and emphatically stretched out his hand and raised
his voice — " Philip I let but Frederick be upon the
throne of Caesar, and our cause — the cause of God^ —
will find protection. Thou knowest well I hate not,
yea, rather I love the Holy See ; but, in Christ's pure
name and truth, let us drive these money-changers
from the temple!"

" But, Father, whom wouldst thou leave then in
the temple ? Err I in believing that thou art stiU an
obedient son of our Holy Mother?"

"Philip ! " exclaimed Luther, and his countenance, that
had of late been so joyous and apparently void of care,
changed its expression — "Philip," and placing his hand
upon Melancthon's shoulder, and looking stedfastly and
with the deepest solemnity into his face, he added, ^' I
do love the Holy See ; • I am still her son, and would
be honestly obedient. Nay, even more, read yonder
papers, and thou wilt see how fervently I love her;
despite her foUies, yea, her crimes, I love her. What

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 291

but if I thought of her only as the visible exponent
of Christian unity, I should yet hold her in reverence.
Thinkest thou that I could wish to destroy a fabric
so religiously sublime; a fabric that, though it has
risen from small beginnings, hath its foundation rest-
ing in the centre, while its turrets sparkle in the
skies ; that I would be the man impiously to inquire
how that structure was first projected, whence its
scheme was taken, how it was improved, by what
assistance it was executed, from what stores its ma-
terials were collected, whether its founder dug them
from the quarries of nature, or demolished other build-
ings to embellish his own? Thinkest thou that I
would destroy that temple, Philip, or even that I
would cast scorn upon its architecture?"

**May I ask, what are these papers which my
reverend master has written, and to which he points
me?" asked Melancthon calmly.

^* Kead them," said Lather, as he somewhat passion-
ately threw them towards Melancthon.

Melancthon read : —

** Most Holy Father, — Necessity once more com-
pels me, refuse of society and dust of the earth that
I am, to address your exalted Majesty ; and I implore
your Holiness to listen to the bleatings of the poor
lamb that now approaches you.

** Charles von Miltitz, private Chancellor to your
Holiness, a just and worthy man, has in your name,
accused me to the illustrious Prince Frederick, of pre-

292 COUNT ABENSBEBO; OB,

sumption, of irreverence towards the Roman Churcli,
and demanded, in your name, satisfaction ; and I have
been filled with grief at the misfortune of being sus-
pected of disrespect towards the column of the Church,
— I, who had never had any other wish than to assert
and defend its honour.

" What am I to do. Holy Father ? I have none to
counsel me, on the one hand ; on the other, I dare not
expose myself to the effects of your resentment. Yet
how avoid them ? I know not. Ketract, you say.
Were the retractation demanded from me possible, it
should be made. Thanks to my adversaries, to their
fierce resistance and to their rabid hostility, my
writings have spread abroad far more widely than
I had anticipated; my doctrines have penetrated too
deeply into men's hearts for them now to be effaced.
Germany is at this time flourishing in men of
learning, of judgment, of genius : if I desire to do
honour to the Roman Church, it will be by revoking
nothing. A retractation would only injure her in the
estimation of the people, and expose her to ill misre-
presentations.

" They whom I oppose, most Holy Father, are the
men who have really injured and disgraced the Holy
Roman Church ; those adorers of filthy lucre, who
have gone about in your name, involving the very
name of repentance in discredit and opprobrium, and
seeking to throw the whole weight of their iniquities
upon me, the man who struggled against their mon-
strosities.

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 293

**Ah! Holy Father, before God, before the whole
creation, I affirm that I have never once had it in my
thought to weaken or shake the authority of the Holy
See. I fully admit that the power of the Koman
Church is superior to all things under God ; neither in
heaven nor on earth is there aught above it, our Lord
Jesus excepted. Let no credit be given by your Holi-
ness to any who seek to represent Luther to you in
any other light.

" As to Indulgences, I promise your Holiness to
occupy myself no further with them ; to keep silence
respecting them for the future, provided my adversa-
ries, on their side, remain silent; to recommend my
people, in my sermons, to love B.(Hne, and not to im-
pute to her the faults of others, not to give implicit
faith to all the severe things I have abusively said of
her in the excitement of combatting those mounte-
banks ; so that, by God's help, these dissensions may,
in brief time, be appeased; for my whole desire has
been that the Roman Church, our common mother,
should not be dishonoured by the base lies and jargon
of these lucre-hunters, and that men should learn to
prefer charity to Indulgences.* — March 3, 1519."

During the time that Melancthon occupied in read-
ing the above draft of Luther's letter to his Holiness
Pope Leo X-j the countenances of these two great
Reformers would have given a subject of profound
study to an enlightened physiognomist.

♦ Note 12.

294 COUNT AKEN8BER6; OR,

Why did Martin Lnther^ as he sat in hb study-
chair, looking at Melancthon, cast his eyes down
upon the ground, raise his eyebrows, then again knit
them and compress his lips, and, at last, become
flushed in face and send forth flashes of scorn and in-
dignation ?

And why did the pale, worn Mdanctbon lose for a
time the hectic spot that had become the tenant of Ir~~
high cheek-bones ? Why did he, as if in concert with
his friend, raise his eyebrows ? Why did his lips part ?
and why, on replacing the papers on the table, did his
face still retain the expressions of surprise and of incer-
titude ?

It must not be concealed that, owing to the slow
degrees by which Luther arrived at fixed conclusions
concerning the Papal Hierarchy, he meanwhile showed
frequent inconsistency. And t^ was only natural;
and instead of its indicating any unworthy disingenu-
ousness, it only proved the honesty with which he
wrought out what, during such a process, became a
temporary conviction. Ko sooner were these transi-
tion stages over than he commenced a course as uni-
form as it was determined ; whereas, up to that date,
his pure soul would one day vent its indignation
against the flagrant enormities of his Holy Mother
Church, and on the next day, blinded by his filial
afiection, it would pour forth vows of constancy and
obedience.

" I have not yet made up my mind (let me whisper
it in your ear),** he writes to Spalatin at this period.

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 295

** whether the Pope is Antichrist himself, or only the
apostle of Antichrist."

To all candid minds this will be some explana-
tion how he could use the language, which we have
adduced above, in his conversation with Melancthon ;
how at the same time, he could pen to the Pope the
letter we have quoted ; and yet how even his fearless
spirit might tremble lest Melancthon and others should
not comprehend him.

With Melancthon, however, the case was somewhat
different. Not that his mind was not passing through
similar oscillations, but that he was not called upon
to make them visible by oscillating action. He was,
therefore, far more likely than was Luther himself to
feel startled at any obvious incongruity. And thence
it was that he studied the above letter with amaze-
ment.

^* Is my dear master prepared to carry out all these
concessions, and to realize all these pledges of devotion
to the Holy See ? And will not Pope Leo, contrast-
ing all these words with words and acts that have gone
before, conclude either that Martin Luther is so terri-
fied that he, his Holiness, may make his own stipula-
tions; or that Martin Luther is only playing fast and
loose in order to deceive, and that therefore his Holi-
ness must counterplot?" asked Melancthon solemnly.
^* And in either case," he continued, " what but serious
mischief can then follow ? "

"Oh, Philip I beloved Philip!" exclaimed Luther,
wringing his hands passionately, while his masculine

296 COUNT abensberg; or,

features lost all their hardness, so wrung was he with
emotion. "Little, little will the world believe how I
loathe rebellion against our Holy Mother I I feel,
more and more every day, how difficult it is to lay
aside the scruples which I have had so long within me.
God alone wotteth what pain it costs me, though I
have the Scripture on my side, to justify it to myself
that I should dare to make a stand alone against the
Pope, and hold him forth as Antichrist. What are
not the tribulations of my heart? How many times
I ask myself with bitterness the same question which
the Papists put to me, ' Art thou alone wise 1 Can
everybody else be so mistaken? Can so many ages
have been mistaken ? How will it be if, after all, thou
thyself it is who art wrong, and art thus involving
in thy error so many souls who will then be eternally
damned?'"*

Here he paused : and so deep was Melancthon*8
sympathy with the griefs and Catholic emotions of his
friend, that he could answer nothing.

" Let me send this letter to his Holiness, dear
Philip ; let the Church never have to say that I rashly
made a schism in the body ; and bethink thou, will not
men say in after ages (and they will say the truth),
* Father Martin tendered a truce with the Pope, but
it was not when his own danger might have counselled
his submission, but when the fresh power of his own
Sovereign enabled him to set that Pope at defiance'?
And think again, Philip ; is not Leo astute enough to

• Note 13.

'.^f^nm^m^m^mm^^mm^imm^Ht^^^mmmmr^lfsmgrmmmmmm^

THE DAYS OP LUTHER, 297

see tbat what might have been my cumiing, while in
peril, can be only my honest love and reverence, now
that I am in safety ?"

*^ Assure me. Father, of that thy safety," replied
Melancthon, " and then I will yield to thy last argu-
ment."

" Philip, forgive thy brother's telling thee, thou art
of little faith. Dost thou not know the wisdom, the
openness, the dignity of our good Elector ? Could ke
play the dishonourable game of encouraging his poor
Luther in his work, and then of deserting him, though
he has the fullest power to protect? Never I And
could he now be authorizing his own confidential
Spalatin to translate into our honest German, and
to circulate among his people, my * Consolation to all
Christians,' and yet intend to sacrifice the author?
Never ! I will dare to trust him ; and should he fail
us, why then the wrath of God may be administered
by our agency, as it is written, ^I will make their
princes as children, and the feeble shall reign over
them.' "

Melancthon incredulously shook his head*

*^ But suppose," he said, " his Holiness should proffer
aid to our Elector, in furtherance of his gaining the
throne of Caeisar, and should stipulate for thy surrender,
as one of the conditions ! Will poor human nature be
firm against the tempter?"

** Suppose — and suppose — and suppose for ever !" ex-
claimed Luther with impatience, ^^and then, I tell
thee, Philip, God's work will be never done I I should

298 COUNT ab£XSB£bg; or,

like to hear thee lectare in the schools upon the text,
'The slothful man saith^ There is a lion without^ I
shall be slain in the streets.' "

Melancthon felt deeply wounded, the more so be-
cause he felt that he deserved it. And Luther saw
it. And then ensued one of those most touching
changes of emotion which occurred so often in the life
of the great Reformer, and which both proved the
power of apparently opposite emotions within his
bosom, and, at the same time, that he was a true child
of nature.

'^ I have grieved thee, oh, my brother I" he cried, as
he seized both his hands. " May God forgive me !
brute as I am to thy gentle care and tenderness for
a poor miserable monk : forgive — forgive me, Philip !
Thou, I know, wouldst go with me to prison and to
death."

" Thou, dearest master, hast never been aught but
kind to me," said Melancthon, tenderly and reverently.
" The righteous hath reproved me, it is as excellent oil
that doth not break the head. But, Father, my fears
have not been selfish, save that to lose thee would be to
lose my earthly all."

The deep-toned bell of the cathedral clock tolled
midnight. The two Reformers listened, counting its
tones ; and this simple act relieved them from aU
further mutual explanations. Its twelfth note was
still dying away in the distance when Luther seized
his flute.

*' Philip, thou wilt go with me to Frankfort, on

THE DATS OF LUTHER. 299

the morrow ? Trust me we ought to go ; and, as
we journey, perchance we may be able again to
consult together — and to quarrel," he added, smiling,
" But now we will to rest. Yet before we separate
let me sing thee my new psalm — ay, and to a new
tune."

As was his wont, in singing a midnight hymn, he
threw open the casement; then gazed out upon the
stars that moved calmly amid the deep blue ether;
then took his flute ; played the air that he had
only that afternoon composed ; and then, at last,
sang, in the grand diapason voice for which he was so
distinguished, that Psalm of David which may be
said to be one of the most poetical, and which,
just at that moment, was so appropriate. It was the
133rd.

The whole town and university lay quiet beneath
the moon and stars. There were slumbering within
the houses and monasteries many men, women, and
maidens, of all degrees, albeit their minds, during the
day, had been agitated with anxieties about the future
Emperor, and about the fate of their great Doctor
Luther. There slept in peace the students of the
university, of which Doctor Luther was the glory.
Even in his own Augustine convent the vigils of his
brother monks were calm ; for they felt they reposed so
surely on the wisdom, and courage, and fidelity, of
their famous brother.

The only other exceptions to this calm, sleeping
community, was that very body of students whose

300 COUNT arensbebg; oe,

Aerenade had, some hours before, called forth the rebuke
of their great professor. He knew it not, but they
had bound themselves into a body-guard for his per-
son. The song they had sung was but a feint, as they
took their nightly observation, and assured themselves
of his presence and his safety. Well they understood
the spirit of his remonstrance : nay, they acted on his
orders; and retired to pray on his and their father-
land's behalf. But some of them kept sentinel beneath
his windows ; and who that knows, from observation
and sympathy, the power of harmony over the German
mind — who that has watched the serious and deep
feeling that is so eminently its characteristic — who
that has ever had the chords of his own heart shaken
by some mighty sorrow, and has felt the power of
song in preventing him from succumbing beneath
an overwhelming feeling — who, thus qualified, will
think us guilty of exaggeration when we affirm that
those young, brave, yet tender-hearted students bowed
their heads, wept, unconsciously felt for their zagers,
which their collegiate grade allowed them to wear,
and then, as they heard the soft, dulcet tones of
the flute, and then, again, the manly notes of their
revered professor — the professor who was not more
the asserter of the rights of the Church than he
was the patriot in his claims for the true liberties
of his father-land — swore that they would guard him
to the death-breach?

Melancthon, by this time, had left Luther alone. The
latter had remained at his window, with earnestly up-

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 301

V

cast ejesj breathings again and again, the air of the
psalm upon the flute, when fchere arose u{>on his ear a
sound — it was only one sound, for the voices were so
harmonious.

He listened. Oh ! how did his loving soul melt
from its hard manliness into the genial tender-
ness of youth 1 He caught the psalm-note, and
his young guards, taken by surprise, found their
harmony sustained by a voice modulated to the dis-
tance.

Luther closed his window ; or another and inoppor-
tune scene might have been begun.

But before he threw himself upon his pallet, he
bowed before his God. And, seeing that he has re-
corded it himself, we are guilty of no profanation of
his consecrated chamber, as we add a portion of his
prayer: —

. . . ^^Who am I, great God, a poor miserable
monk, that I should make head against the majesty of
the Pope, before which the kings of the earth (nay,
earth itself, hell, and heaven) do tremble ? Pity my
deep dejection — pity dejection — not imaginary nor af-
fected — but my soul prostration, shall it be ? my utter
despair. Light ! oh, for light ! to light me on my
dark path, from dead, mute masters — from these
theologians and these priests I Oh, for light I for
the living counsel of the Churches of God; for
the voices of pious men, illumined by thy Holy
Spirit; for their compassion and advice, in aid of
my own good and that of all Christendom I Pope,

302 COUNT arensberg; or.

Cardinals, Bishops, Theologians, Canonists, Monks,
Priests — what spirit dare I seek from them ? God
help me I" . • . *

Luther then sought repose and slept.

♦ Note 12.

THE DAYS OP LUTHEB. 303

CHAPTER XXX.

Without entering on any minute details concerning
the separate journeys of Count Arensberg and Luther
to Frankfort on the Maine, and merely mentioning
that the change of scene and, above all, the excite-
ment of being called into the field of action, had
wrought the happiest effects in the recovery of the
former, we would now introduce our readers to the
city at which they had arrived.

We have to introduce a variety of distinct scenes,
yet their unity of direction will soon be obvious.

It is the evening of June 16th 1519.* The ancient
city — once the capital of Germany — well filled and
busy though it always was in appearance, was now so
more than ever. A traveller, who was approaching it,
first perceived the antique towers that marked the
boundaries of its ancient banlieu, each guarded by
double sentinels ; and then, on drawing nearer, massive
fortifications, that now are exchanged for boulevards,
frowned upon him ; and their gloom was far from les-
sened by the solemn foot-falls of numerous warders.

• Note 14.

304 COUNT abeksbbbg; or^

Having passed^ amid groups of grim soldiery, through
its eastern gate, this same traveller found it difficult to
take in separately the various, even dissimilar knots of
persons who were gathered in the great square in front
of the CathedraL Man of taste though he was, he
who, on another day, would have been absorbed in
admiration of this recent structure — one which we>
in our days, have to prize as the last specimen of
pure German architecture — his eyes roved to and fro
in wonderment at the motley assemblies that were
around him ; whilst his ears rung with a Babel not
only of German dialects, but of other tonguea
Mailed knights, followed by their esquires and men-
at-arms, each troop with a pennon peculiar to itself,
and each taking its separate direction ; priests and
monks in numerous processions, many of them with
bishops or mitred abbots at their head — their goi^eous
colours of white and gold and scarlet having for relief
the dark hues of collegiate gowns, that formed defiles
through which they passed; grave statesmen moving
hither and thither, thoughtfully but quickly ; sober
citizens now with impassioned gestures and in earnest
talk: all these exciting objects would have bewildered
him, had he not been aware, already, that it was the
eve of the Diet for the election of an Emperor of
Germany — ^an event, in the decision of which those
knights, those statesmen, those priests, those scholars,
yea, the very burghers, were feeling the strongest par-
tisanship.

The two leading competitors for the throne of the

THE DAYS OF LUTHER 305

Csesar were Charles, the King of Spain and Arragon,
the Netherlands and the Indies ; and Francis I., the King
of France. Henry VIII. had withdrawn his name,
preserving his dignity from defeat upon the plea that
he had been too late in entering the lists. There were,
however, other princes, such as Frederick of Saxony,
and Joachim the Marquis of Brandenburgh, and Lewis
the King of Hungary and Bohemia, and Lewis, Count
Palatine of the Rhine, each of whom was eligible, and
some one of whom might, by possibility, have been
chosen. There were, thus, the mightiest interests at
stake; the honour of the two great potentates who
were special rivals seemed to be gaged ; the rights of
all the other minor princes were deeply implicated;
above all, the discordant policies of the Papal Church,
and those of the nascent Reformation, appeared to
hang upon the crisis.

We shall soon learn some others of the diplomatic
reasonings, and arts, and cabals, that were employed
during the session of the Diet ; but, ere we enter on
that one to which we devote this chapter, we must
state an impression under which our traveller had
entered Frankfort.

Miles away from that city he had fallen in with
numbers of troops, who, as he found, were in the service
of King Charles, and whose destination was in the
neighbourhood of the Diet. This fact he noted, and
its meaning was most obvious. Then, again, he met,
at different spots, small armies belonging either to the
Swiss, or the Duke of Wirtemberg, or the Free Towns

VOL. I. X

306 COUNT arensbekg; or,

of Germany ; and, while passing through the midst of
each of them, he learned their purpose to prevent the
transfer of the crown of Germany to the brow of the
French monarch. This fact, likewise, he took careful
note of; and he had been long and anxiously weighing
both, when we introduced him to our readers.

But he has been introduced some time ago. He
was none other than the Canon Antonio ; he who had
left Italy with Cardinal Adrian, and who, when we
last took leave of him, was an inmate of the castle
of Arensberg, as an ecclesiastic in attendance upon
the Cardinal.

Since that time, months had intervened. But he
passed them not amid the solitudes of the Thuringian
forest. His restless, intriguing soul would seek some
more stirring duty than that of soothing the sorrows
of the Cardinal. He had once more reached Rome,
and had insinuated himself into the confidence of
the Court ; and he was now returned to Germany,
bearing despatches and oral instructions of the utmost
moment.

His mission was to Roberto Orsino, Archbishop of
Reggio, the Papal Nuncio in Germany; and he lost
not even a moment in repairing to his residence.

But to reach it he found was a work of time and
labour. The Nuncio was the guest of the Prince Pri-
mate, whose palace of Tour and Taxis stood on the left
bank of the Maine, at Sachsenburg, and his path, there-
fore, lay across the bridge. That bridge was thronged ;
and as the Canon had, for purposes of secresy, foregone

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 307

all escort, it ws^s his lot to be jostled by the crowd, and
to have to hear the free words of peasants, soldiers,
and burghers, who pressed upon him.

What strucK the Canon most was, that the crowds
of human beings that met him from the opposite side
of the bridge were, almost all of them, at short in-
tervals, shouting, " To the Raemer — to the Raemer !"
(He knew that this was the Town Hall, so famous,
if not for its architecture, yet for its history, as the
scene of the election of Emperors.) And then fol-
lowed loud vivas, as an immense company of young
men, evidently students, sang, and with well- modulated
voices : —

" Silence all ye ! each one call ye
Unto solemn tones his ear !

Hark ! the song of songs I raise now ;

German brothers, join in praise now :

Sound it— sound it — back a chorus clear !

** Of your fatherland the song ;

Fatherland ! thou land so famous,
Sacred to thy glory claim us ;
Germans proudly, swell ye loudly,
We, our swords, to thee belong ! "

And then the hoarse crowds re-echoed : —

" Fatherland ! thou land so famous,
Sacred to thy glory claim us." *

" Whurra ! Whurra ! " screamed the women. " No
civet-cat Frank Emperor for our fatherland I "

* Note 15.

308 COUNT abensbesg; or,

" Ha ! " murmured the Canon, as he strove, \m-
observedly, to breast the living torrent.

He succeeded ; and, having crossed the bridge, and
gained entrance to the palace Tour and Taxis, it cost
him but little time before he had placed his papers in
the hands of the Nuncio's secretary, and found himself
summoned to the presence.

" You are welcome. Father Antonio," said the Arch-
bishop, courteously, yet somewhat coldly; for the all-
hearing statesman had caught some German rumours
about the Canon.

•* The Holy Father," he continued, " hath informed
me, by these letters, that you are empowered in per-
son to communicate to me — the servant of his Holiness
— some words of moment. Be seated. Father, and I
will listen."

The Canon was scarcely prepared for such a cool
and formal reception. Nevertheless, he adroitly con-
cealed his chagrin, postponing all ideas of repayment
till another day.

" The Holy Father," returned the Canon, in an
humble tone, " hath deigned to entrust my voice with
his own unwritten message."

So I read here," replied the Nuncio, quickly;
pray hasten to transmit that message; for see you
these papers ? — each pulse of time is precious."

^* Perhaps your Eminence may find that delay in
attending to those papers may be in keeping with
the wishes of his Holiness," answered the nettled
Canon.

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 309

The Nuncio saw his advantage in an instant.
There were reasons^ of which we shall learn here-
after, why he felt warranted in thus receiving a Papal
emissary; and he knew full well, that the only way
by which he could secure sound materials for judging
as to the Canon's information, was to throw him off his
guard.

Discharge your mission," commanded the Nuncio,

and presume not to speculate upon its influence."

" His Holiness condescended to inform me, that he
had enjoined upon your Eminence to cherish, in the
French king, hopes of his sacred influence in his pre-
sent struggle for the throne of Germany."

The Nuncio bent his head, and waited listening for
the Canon to continue.

**I am commanded by his Holiness to urge your
Eminence somewhat to modify your assurance of the
friendship of the Holy See."

** Indeed I" murmured the Nuncio, raising his eye-
brows.

" The Holy Father would have your Eminence re-
present to his Grace, that the candidateship of the Bang
of Spain is almost sure to be successful, because he is
of German origin, unless some other German prince
can be placed in competition. * Tell this to the Arch-
bishop,' said his Holiness, * and give him our direction
to aim at a division of the German forces ; and then,
perchance, his Grace of France may come in, at the
moment of their schism.' "

*^ All this, Father Antonio," replied the Archbishop,

310 COUNT akensberg; or,

" I have been commanded before you came. Another
messenger seems to have been more speedy."

" Not so, methinks, may it please your Eminence ;
for, if the messenger was Father Ghioberte, I was com-
missioned to follow him, and to add . • . ."

** What ?" asked the Nuncio.

" That your Excellency," continued Antonio, but
slowly and maliciously — '^ that your Excellency should
employ these sums, of which I have been the faithful
bearer, for the purpose of enlisting the Electors of
the empire to favour some one of their brethren, and
to urge, especially, against Charles, that the laws of
their constitution exclude the Kings of Naples for ever
from the throne."

So saying, the Canon placed an order for 400,000
ducats upon the banking-house of Trappani before the
Nuncio.

^* Then I am to understand, that his Holiness would
not have his Grace of France triumph in this struggle ;
that neither more would he desire that of Charles of
Spain ; that, again, he would prefer some inferior poten-
tate for such high honour?"

"Your Excellency's wisdom will, I am sure, draw
right conclusions from my mission," answered Antonio,
with studied formality. " May I withdraw, Mon-
signore?"

"Yes, Father," returned the Nuncio; "but pray
remain near at hand. I may want your services."

To explain all this, it will be necessary to state
that Pope Leo X., in this competition for the Empire,

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 311

was gravely anxious lest either of the two great
candidates should succeed. Strange fact was it^ as
to this Pontiff's habits, that, so long as political move-
ments gave him no concern, so long did he abandon
himself to every species of indolent, yet refined self-
indulgence. Thus long would be surrender up him-
self, in thoughtless pleasure, to all forms of recreation
— the banquet, the chase, or the pursuits of taste and
literature. But, that holiday of life once over, to
the intrigues of state no diplomatist ever sacrificed
more care and toil. It was his aim to urge on Charles
of Spain and Francis of France, each against the other,
with the hope that their mutual collision would involve
mutual defeat ; for it threatened to be fatal to the smafl
temporal power of the Holy See, should any monarch,
already powerful, attain the additional aggrandizement
of being made the German Emperor. His great poli-
tical genius thus foreshadowed that which shortly after
assumed the name of "the balance of power." And
it was no afterthought that led him to give new in-
structions to the Archbishop Orsino, his envoy ; but
pne the application of which he, from the first, had
deliberately timed.

Further, to explain the conduct of this envoy, such
as that which we have above stated, it may be well
to add, upon the authority of Guicciardini, that he was
singularly wanting in such gravity and faithfulness to
the interests of his master as became the minister of the
Pontiff.

" Then I must now change all my schemes," he mur-

312 COUNT abensberg; ob^

mured to himself, when the Canon Antonio had with-
drawn. " I must enact another part with the ministers
of this impetuous Frank king. I must — ^must I ? — ^play
with him as if I were an angler ! I must vow to cir-
cumvent him, and yet hold out promises of alliance and
of help I Ah ! would that I were back again in mine
own dear diocese I I can. speak fair, and not false,
there!"

' ■■"•■■ •«^""^«P"^^>w*^^Np*MHWt«ia«|iHWIPHHPmWHMPKm

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 313

CHAPTER XXXI.

During the interview between the Papal Nuncio and
the Canon Antonio, which we have just narrated,
another one was taking place between men whose
characters and modes of action were singularly different.
It was held within- the palace of Frederick of
Saxony. As will have been already learned from the
previous history, his consummate prudence had gained
him the name of ** Frederick the Wise." His great
talents, joined to his proved patriotism and his ex-
alted rank, had secured to him the regency of Ger-
many while the election of an Emperor was pending.
Years before the appearance of Martin Luther he had
conciliated to himself the fervent regard of men of
letters, by his enlightened and powerful sympathy with
Keuchlin, the great reviver of Grecian and Oriental
literature in Europe. Ecclesiastics of devout piety,
even at that early and unexciting period, had been
soothed by his kindness, and cheered onward in their
pursuit after religious truth; and the commonest pea-
sant joined with the noble in blessing him for his sage
and paternal sway. He was cautious, yet not sus-

314 COUNT abensbebg; on,

picious ; slow in his largesses, yet munificent ; debate*
fill, yet never undecided; overtly a Roman Catholic,
though awake to the enormities of his Church ; yet not
firom any disposition to temporize, but fi*om a broad
comprehensiveness of foresight which apprized him of
the disorganization of the religious world, he was a
tolerant observer of its disturbed elements. In one
point he may be said to have abandoned this neu-
trality: he favoured, loved, fostered Martin Luther;
and he founded and cherished with his best powers the
University of Wittemberg, which had become already
the nucleus of the Reformation.

It is into one of the chambers of the palace of this
great Prince that we would now take our readers. He
is reclining in his chair, watching earnestly, both with
eye and ear, whilst some three or four men, all dis-
tinguished-looking as to intelligence, and some aa to
rank, are in earnest conversation. The noble features
of the Elector are haggard, as if from recent and
exhausting thought; and this need not be wondered
at, seeing that the whole day had been employed in
grave interviews with his brother Electors, who, even
before the assembly of their Diet, had offered the
crown of Germany to himself. It cannot be said that
the bare possibility of having such an offer had never
crossed his brain, and that, therefore, surprise had be-
wildered him. For he well knew himself and his
position : he knew that, not simply as Regent but as
Duke of Saxony, he, a native German Prince, stood
nearest to the throne ; he knew that the gravest objec-

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 315

tions that were urged a^^amst the election of either
Charles or Francis were inapplicable to himself; he
knew that his name had become a watchword in the
Fatherland. All this he knew^ and more: his saga-
cious eye had unravelled the tortuous policy of the
Pope; and he foresaw that, rather than that Charles
or Francis should obtain the sceptre, the PontiflP would
consecrate it in his hands. Need we then wonder at
the exhausting agitation that was now taking place
within him ? Shall he accept that sceptre ? Shall he,
with no hereditary dominions of his own, save purely
German ones, and thus with no personal interests
that could clash with the interests of the Empire, give
to that Empire a unity it had never before ? Shall
he now avail himself of a mighty power wherewith to
further his cherished aims for the instruction and re-
novation of the people ?

These and a thousand other thoughts were passing
through his bosom.

" Speak openly and fearlessly, good Spalatin. This
is no formal council- chamber ; neither need you mea-
sure words as if you were addressing me. Speak all of
you, I pray, as if I were not present. Let me, after
this weary day, feel that I am at home."

The Elector had addressed Spalatin, the secretary
whom he had long honoured with his utmost confi-
dence, simply because he had, just before, been speak-
ing, but in a tone so low that his princely master
could not detect his meaning.

'^ I was, may it please your Highness," returned

316 COUNT ARENSBEBG; OB,

Spalatin — " I was but fencing with the martial reason-
ings of the noble Count beside me."

" And what were thy reasonings, Arensberg ? " asked
the Prince. " Come^ my lord, suppose this a tent
upon a battle-field, and let it be our council-room. I
and you know, of yore, what that means, for honour
and for frankness^ Speak, my lord, with all thy wonted
faithfulness."

" Pardon me, your Electoral Grace," said Arens-
berg, " the good Spalatin declares he was only fencing
with my martial reasonings, and I was but sharpening
my wits on his keen wisdom. I simply argued, that
our German frontier was in danger from the host of
Selim, and that we should need numbers as well as
courage to defend it"

** And that were I, your liege, to become Emperor,
I should lack men — ^not courage ; whereas Charles of
Spain could add his own southern forces to protect
Cajsar's throne: didst thou not add tliat^ my lord?"
asked Frederick^ gravely.

" Nay, indeed, your Grace," returned the Count,
with earnestness ; " I was waiting for a different
conclusion.'

"Now then for the conclusion, Spalatin!" and so
saying, the Elector rose from hie reclining posture,
evidently eager for the answer;

" That national unity is more than a substitute for
numbers; that a pure German force, warmed with
unmixed patriotism, led by a pure German monarch —
one that was bone of their bone, and flesh of their

THE DATS OF LUTHEE. 317

flesh—- one whose o^wn interests were part and parcel
of their own — that such a force would indefinitely mul-
tiply itself."

Spalatin uttered this with fervour; and as he
closed^ the Prince^ reclining back again^ remained some
moments in the deepest thoughtfulness. Meanwhile
there was unbroken silence.

** I have not heard your voice, reverend Father," re-
sumed Frederick, directing his voice towards an eccle-
siastic who was seated at a lower portion of the table.
The Elector had often stolen glances to that quarter,
and his eye had caught many a mood crossing the
Priest's speaking countenance, and they made him
muse.

" What can mean that curl upon the good Father's
lip ? And now he becomes pale : can Arensberg's words
alarm him ? Ah ! how his rich, full eye flames I Then
he agrees with Spalatin I "

Thus the Prince had mused, while watching him
whom he now addressed.

*^ Can Doctor Martin, so wise, so eloquent, as we
know he is within the schools and at the church, can
he say nothing to this soldier and this statesman ? "

The fact was that, notwithstanding his many cares
and duties at this period, the wise Frederick had
seized the occasion of Luther's presence at Frankfort,
and relief from collegiate labours, to keep him near
his person. He delighted in the rich, masculine elo-
quence of the great Reformer. He loved his en-
thusiastic learning. And who would not have pur-

318 COUNT AKENSBERG; OR,

cbased, at any price, the pleasure of listening to
his humour— 80 homely, yet so sage; so cutting, yet
BO honest?

** * Ye shall be called to speak before princes,' said
the King of Kings, may it please your Highness,"
returned Luther, humbly rising from his chair. " But
that prophecy refers to our appearance before per-
secuting monarchs; whereas thou, great Elector, hast
been to us like ' the shadow of a great rock in a weary
land.' "

" Then have ye no commission to princes that are
your friends, good Father ? " asked Frederick, smiling.

" God hath said, ^ Kings shall be your nursing
fathers, and queens your nursing mothers,'" replied
Luther; and his deep voice quivered with sympathy
at the tender promise.

" Thy God, Father Martin, well wotteth, I humbly
hope, how I would protect and cherish all good men,"
said the Elector, with deep solemnity.

" Then suffer me, your Grace — suffer me, poor
monk though I am, to tell you that the Lord of
Lords now offers you a sword and shield for that
holy purpose. Did your Highness command me to
speak as a lover of our Fatherland, I could only echo
the noble words of our Spalatin. Let Germany feel
that she is individual, and she will stand all the more
firmly because she will stand alone. Could I doff my
cassock and take the arquebuss, should I not fight
more bravely if my comrade spoke good Deutsche
than if he cheered me on with some broken Lingua

THE DAYS OF LUTHER. 319

Franca, or some Castilian braggadocio ? But, your
Highness, I am Christ's priest, and to me even country
must be nought in comparison with His Church.
Nay, so should it be to your Grace — to every Christian
man. And yet, the great God be thanked I the inter-
ests of the Empire, and the interests of the Church,
are now the same and one. Only let your Highness
ascend the throne, and preserve tolerance of inquiry,
and shield the combatants against abuses, and guard
God's word inviolate, and you may look proudly down
upon the Turkish hordes, for the battle will be the
Lord's — the Lord God : He it is that will fight for you.
Your Grace may then say, * Though a host encamp
against me, I will not fear; and though war should
rise against me, yet in Thee will I be confident.'

" Despise not this, my serene lord ! " continued
Luther as he grew in warmth. "Despise it not as
a poor monk's baseless enthusiasm I I preach no fana-
tical crusade. Reason tells us, that already the great
German heart is beating with the love of truth and
knowledge. Should you seize upon and wield that
passion, you will find it mightier than was any love
of holy sepulchre. Your warriors will be God's war-
riors, and they turn not their backs. But, on the
other hand, let Charles of Spain light up among us
the fires of his Inquisition — or let Francis, as the
soldier of the Pope, unsheathe his sword upon our
people — and then, alas! my country, thou, rent — nay,
rather self-consuming in thy divisions, wilt be no match
against the Moslem I"

320 COUNT arensberg; or.

It was clear to all who were beholding him, that
the Elector felt deeply moved. The voice and words
of Luther had been impassioned, yet his manner was
most reverent. He had said nothing — done nothing —
that could grate upon the Prince's feelings, but much
that gave the highest pleasure, if not a decisive im-
pulse.

** You have spoken right loyally and bravely. Father,"
said Frederick, " and I will weigh it alL"

- ^^m'rFl'-wr^m'm*'imt»^mmmrmmmr'^mr -rmr vai^

THE DAYS OP LUTHEB, 321

CHAPTER XXXIL

Thebe were many other palaces and hotels in Frank-
fort in which conferences were taking place, and all
of them upon the same absorbing topic. Vast sums
of money were put in circulation by the several agents
of the Pope and the two great competitors — some to
influence the Electors indirectly through their im-
mediate servants, some as direct bribes of the Electors
themselves. Of these Electors, the greater part had
been, long before, conciliated in favour of King
Charles, when his grandfather Maximilian had used
his influence to lead them to elect his grandson King
of the Romans. Already several of them were, in a
manner, secured as to their votes ; for they held, as
certain, sums of money to the amount of 200,000
ducats, on their engagements to invest him with that
dignity — a dignity which was an inevitable preliminary
to the Franconian throne.

Yet, on the other hand, the Marquis of Branden-
burg had received large offers of money, and had
bound himself, by some secret articles, not only to
^ve his own vote for the French monarchy but also

VOL. I. Y

322 COUNT ABENSBERO; OB^

that the Archbishop of Mentz, his tm)ther, should do
the same.

We do not pretend to say that, at the very time
before us, such biassing influences were suspected —
much* less acknowledged. But the voice of history
assures us that such was the fact.

For several days the Diet was in anxious deliberation
'upon the respective merits of the French and Spanish
monarchs. This, at the opening of its sitting, was
unanticipated; for although, as we have just stated,
so many of its members were somewhat compromised,
they all turned their eyes towards Frederick, and
imanimously offered him the Imperial crown. They
found it impossible to ignore the great maxim of the
German constitution — U) depress and limit the power
of the Emperor. They coidd not shut their eyes to
the enormous power with which either Charles or
Francis would ascend the throne. In either case,
they saw themselves individually, yea, collectively,
eclipsed and overborne. They saw a master, not a
head.

It was then that Frederick gave the world one of
the greatest, if not the greatest, instances of self-
abnegation.''^ True it is that, years afterwards, when
the same Charles assembled all the States of his
mighty monarchy, threw aside his ermine, laid down
his sceptre, removed irrevocably his many crowns from
his brow, and retired to a convent, comparatively
young though he was, another example of self-renun-

• Note la

THE BATS OF LUTHEB. 323

eiation filled men with awe. But Charles V. was
sated with power and worldly honours — was worn with
toil and disease — ^was disgusted with his son — wbDr
apprehensively alive to the approach of a mightier
tempest than any of those furious ones which he had
ruled. Whereas, what may not be said of the
higher heroism of the Elector Frederick? He had
known what power was, only so far as to be able to
appreciate its sweets, and to rejoice in its facilities
for doing good. The voices of all his brother princes
hailed him to its far loftier enjoyment and discharge.
The reverent homage of a vast people besought him
to ascend and grasp it. Science, literature, pure
religion shouted forth their suffrages. Whence then
came it, that this prince — no craven one — one not
deterred by personal fears of the battle-field or the
council-chamber — ^instantly and peremptorily declined
the proffer?

"Your Highnesses,** said he, "have been insisting
on a great German maxim. Nothing, however, can
be more impolitic than an obstiiiate adherence to that
maxim which, though sound and just in many cases,
is not applicable to all. In times of tranquillity we
wish for an Emperor who has not power to invade
our liberties; times of danger demand one who is able
to secure our safety. The Turkish armies, led by a
gallant and victorious monarch, are now assembling.
rthey are ready fo pour in upon Germany with a
violence unknown in former ages. New conjunctions
call for new expedients. The Imperial sceptre must

324 COUNT abensbebg; on,

be committed to eome hand more powerful than
mine^ or that of any other German prince. We
possess neither dominions, nor revenues, nor au-
thority, which enable us to encounter such a formid-
able enemy. Recourse must be had, in this exigency,
to one of the rival monarchs. Each of them can
bring into the field forces sufficient for our defence.
But as the King of Spain is of German extraction —
as he is a member and prince of the Empire by the
territories which descend to him from his grand-
father — as his dominions stretch along that frontier
which lies most exposed to the enemy — his claim is
preferable, in my opinion, to that of a stranger to
our language, to our blood, and to our country ; and,
therefore, I give my vote to confer on him the Imperial
Crown."

This speech, so magnanimous and so sustained by
weighty reasonings, made a deep impression. The
Electors closed their sitting — at one moment, absorbed
in admiration of the man who, from a spirit of pure
patriotism, could refuse an Imperial monarchy, and, at
another moment, equally absorbed in the new steps
they would severally have to take.

We will not stay to dwell upon the commotions of
feeling that ensued, so soon as this memorable decision
was made known. What was not the mortification of
the Papal Legate, when he found that such noble
sincerity had foiled all the schemes and plottings of
his Holiness, his master, who, by a strange infatuation^
had held himself prepared to accept as Emperor the

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 325

friend of Luther^ thus welcoming a moral enemy in
preference to either one of his two most powerful
spiritual subjects I What was not the grief, the
anguish of Martin Luther, who, upon Frederick's
acceptance of the sceptre, had founded hopes of his
own personal safety, and had augured the most
powerful protection of learning and religious truth!
Strange conjuncture, yet opposition of interests I Had
the Pontiff succeeded in defeating Kings Charles and
Francis, the territories of the Holy See might have
remained invulnerable, and the world might never have
heard of a Constable Bourbon besieging Rome, and of
the Emperor's army sacking it, and imprisoning a suc-
cessor and a brother of Pope Leo. And had Martin
Luther's fervent reasoning prevailed with the Elector,
the Church of God might never have heard how that
a poor monk, clothed in the panoply of Christ, could
dare the sword of a second Charlemagne; how that
truth could show its divine power of revivescence even
beneath the shade of the dark upas-tree of imperial
vengeance.

Both of these great partisans. Pope Leo and Luther,
were eager for the same event, though for different
hopes and projects ; and both were doomed to disap-
pointment, though from different fears. But, although
then he knew it not, there was one of these two
whose prayers God was answering. Albeit that the
fostering care of the Elector Frederick might have
founded and cherished schools of free thought and
free inquiry, that the confessors of the reformed faith

326 COUNT absksbebg; ob,

might haye become the ecclesiastical magnates of the
empire, yet there had been the peril of a tame,
and luxurious, and effeminate literature and theology,
and both the world and the Church would have suf-
fered : the latter from the loss of the vigour which it has
always derived from a time of trial ; the former from
the loss of that which it now knows — ^the fact that
men's minds and souls hold the true emperorship of the
world.

Luther both wished and prayed that God's science
and God's word might flourish as no sickly plant,
whose premature shootings were those of an indulgent
horticulture ; but rather as the slow,, firm, well-
gnarled oak, the roots of which should have power
enough to make the granite even a tributary to its
strength and its stability ; and the Divine Husbandman
sent it no early and unseasonable sunshine, but dark
and nipping skies, the cold favour of the snow-storm,
and the conflict of the tempest.

The Diet again re-assembled.

''You must have been, most mighty lords," said
the Elector of Treves, " amazed with wonder and
admiration at the sublime self-denial of our brother
of Saxony.* Unconvinced though I may be by his
reasonings, there can be no reply to his princely re-
solution. To the latter we must yield ; but, I humbly
submit to your high mightinesses, that his vote for
King Charles of Spain is open to objection. Yoor
lordships cannot have overlooked the fact, that now is

• Note 17.

THE DATS OP LUTHER. 327

the occasion (and it hath come but tardily) to show
the princes of the House of Austria^ that the Imperial
Crown is elective and not hereditary. And further,
and with all high respect to the young King of Spain,
Naples, and the Netherlands, you will concede, I trust,
that we need a sovereign matured in judgment — of
approved abilities — one able to hold the reins of go-
vernment in a land where such unknown opinions
concerning religion have been published as have
thrown the minds of men into an agitation that
threatens the most violent effects. Shall we, then,
elect a young prince without experience? Further-
more, with the Sultan Selim at our gates — a warrior
grown old in war and in the career of victory — shall
we elect a young prince who, hitherto, has given no
specimens of his genius for command ? Suffer me to
point your lordships to a king who, even in his
early youth, triumphed over the very Swiss, till
then thought to be indomitable. Would he be an an-
tagonist unworthy of this eastern conqueror? Could
aught resist the discipline and stability of our Ger-
man infantry, sustained by the fire, the impetuosity
of the French horse, and led onward by such a cap-
tain? Whereas now we have to wait the approach
of the forces of the Ottoman, might we not with
such a leader carry hostilities into the heart of their
dominions ?

"And then again, my lords, bethink you that the
election of King Charles to the Imperial Crown would
violate one of our fundamental constitutions. He who

328 COUNT ABEN8BEBG; OR,

holds the throne of Naples is, by Pope Clement's
ordinance, excluded from aspiring to the Imperial
dignity. Let King Charles — the King of Naples as
well as the King of Spain — let him but gain this
dignity, and your lordships will soon have a war in
Italy. He pretends to the Duchy of Milan : our em-
pire will soon feel the effects of those pretensions, and
will be imperilled by them. So, therefore, in respect-
ful disallowance of the claims of Charles of Spain,
Arragon, the Netherlands, and Naples, I give my vote
to confer the Imperial Crown on Francis I. of France.'*

*^Then his Grace of Treves," exclaimed Herman
Count de Wied, Archbishop of Cologne, ** his Grace
of Treves would forego all our national and inevitable
prejudices against the French candidate I Does his
Grace forget that the monarch whose claims he advo-
cates — ^noble, generous, ay, chivalrous though he is 1 —
is a stranger to the German language and to German
manners? — that his genius, that the laws, that the
customs to which he has been accustomed render it
impossible there shoidd be any cordial union between
him and us ? Does his Grace forget all this ?"

There was some slight asperity in this last speech.
And it remained unanswered, in that dignified as-
sembly.

But soon after rose the Abbot of Mentz : —

"I need not assure your Serene Highnesses with
what grief, and yet with what awe and veneration, I
listened to the speech of him whom I will, henceforth
call the Great Elector of Saxony. I would that his re-

tmtf^^^m^^ltr

THE DATS OF LUTHEB. 329

solve were not irrevocable. For, my lords, apart from
the high power and virtues of Frederick the Wise —
powers and virtues which, so I believe, would have
bound our Fatherland into a compact and invulnerable
unity, thus neutralizing one of the most perilous evils
of our Constitution, I mean, our discrepancies of
opinion, of local interests, of municipal rules — apart
from all this, I would have had a pure German for our
Emperor. Seeing that the great Frederick, and with
such claims on our German fealty, declines this
highest of all earthly honours, we must look be-
yond ourselves. And, so it seems to me. King
Charles of Spain presents himself as a claimant, the
most natural. German he is, even though his de-
scent be partial. And, moreover, are not some of
his chief dominions Austrian ? Who so natural a
barrier to the empire against the encroachments of
Turkish power ? True it is, and as grave as it is
true, that the conquests, that the abilities, that the
ambition of Sultan Selim 11. have spread a general
and a well-founded alarm over the whole of Europe.
True it is, that his victories over the Mamelukes,
his extirpation of that gallant body, his absorp-
tion of Egypt and of Syria within his empire, have
secured him such tranquillity at home, that he can
turn his arms against Christendom beyond. What
can stop the progress of this torrent ? What, save the
election of an Emperor whose extensive dominions
are upon the very border — who can combat this
fierce foe, not merely with our own German forces.

330 COUNT ABENSBBBO.

aided bj troops from his own vast hereditary do-
minions, but by the wealth of the Indies and the
commerce of the Netherlands ? I give my vote that
the Imperial Crown be offered to King Charles of
Spain." •

Manifold and debatefiil were the reasonings used by
the different partisans in this great contest. It was
worthy of wonder, however, that although the remon-
strances of the German people against the Elector
Frederick's resolution were incessant; although both
the Pontiff and the reforming monk, the court and
the universities of his own patrimonial domain be-
sought him to re-consider ; although, too, he was
aware that one hint of vacillation would have been
seized most eagerly by his brother Electors, so that
they might, with all care of their dignity, re-offer him
the Crown, Frederick remained calm and impassive.

That day six of the Electors declared for the King
of Spain. The Archbishop of Mentz, one who had
been so firm an adherent of the French claims, at last
joined his brethren, and King Charles was, by the
unanimous voice of the Electoral College, raised to the
Imperial Throne.

• Note 18.

END OP VOL. I.

NOTES TO VOL. I.

NOTES TO VOL. I.

Note 1, page 19.

Dion. 1. Ixviii. p. 1121, and Plin. Second. Faneg. ; also, Eutro
plus, viii. 16. Niebuhr, lect. Ixvii. pp. 251, 293.

I^OTE 2, page 24.

^* About this time a serious conspiracy against Leo was dis*
covered. The prime mover in it was Alfonso Petrucd, Cardinal
of Siena, whose property having been confiscated, and his family
ruined by the Pontiff, he burned for revenge, and induced one
Battista, a £unous surgeon of Yercelli, along with the Pope's
valet, to enter into his views. Leo being ill, it was arranged that
Battista, who had procured recommendations as a skilful operator,
should introduce poisons into the dressings. The plot was re-
vealed in time, and the Pontiff used every art, with promises of
reconciliation and renewed favour, to entice the principal culprit
to Rome. Having with difficulty effected this, he imprisoned him,
along with his brother cardinals Raffaello Biario, and Bandinello,
Bishop of Sauli, along with the captain of the Sienese troops.

334 NOTES.

Cardinal Alfonso was secretly put to death ; the surgeon and
▼alet were publicly hanged and quartered^ Sauli, condemned to
perpetual imprisonment, was liberated but to die; while Riario,
after purchasing, at a high rate, restoration to his escheated dig-
nities, spent the brief remainder of his life in yoluntary exile.
Cardinals Soderini and Adriano, of Cometo (the latter of whom
held the sees of Hereford and Bath, and was papal collector in
England), having confessed, in open consistory, their privacy to
the plot, escaped from Rome.** — Dennistoun's Memoirs of the
Dukes of Urbino, vol. ii. pp. 375-6.

'*0n the eighth day of June, the Pope again assembled the
cardinals ; and i^^er bitterly complaining that his life should have
been so cruelly and insidiously attempted by those who, having
been raised to such high dignity, and who, being the principal
members of the Apostolic see, were bound beyond all others to
defend him; and after lamenting that the kindness and liberality
which he had unifonnly shown to every individual of the Sacred
College, even to a degree which had been imputed to him as a
weakness, had met with so disgraceful a return, he proceeded to
inform them that two others of their members were concerned in
the conspiracy, and called upon the guilty to make their peace by
a prompt confession, threatening that otherwise he would imme-
diately order them into custody. By the advice of three of the
cardinals, Remolini, Accolti^ and Farnese, each cardinal was called
upon to answer, on oath, the interrogatory, whether they were
guilty. When the question was put to Francesco Soderini, Car-
dinal of Yolterra, he denied the fact ; but upon further admonition,
he feVL prostrate, and with many tears acknowledged his offence,
yielding his lii^ to the discretion of the Pontiff. Leo then ob-
served that there was yet another concealed traitor, when die
three cardinals before-mentioned, turning to Adrian di Cometo,
Cardinal of S. Crisogono, advised hiin, in like manner, to humble
himself. With great reluctance, he^ too, confessed hiff guilt. It
was then determined that the penitent cardinals, after paying a
heavy fine, should be restored to favour. This fine was settled at
twenty-five thousand ducats ; but when they had raised that sum
by joint contributions, Leo insisted that it was intended they
should eadi pay that amount, whereupon they availed themselves

NOTES. 335

of the earliest opportunity to effect their escape from the city.
The Cardinal of Yolterra retired to Fondi, where he remained
under the protection of Frospero Golonna, until the death of the
Pontiff; but what became of Adrian is wholly unknown, no
tidings having been received of him after his flight from
Rome/'—Boscoe's Life of Leo X., vol. iii. pp. 165-6-7.

It may be interesting to have thus near at hand the remarks of
Lord Bacon respecting Cardinal Adrian : —

"As for the Pope's embassy, which was sent by Adrian di
Castello, an Italian legate, and, perhaps, as those times were, might
have prevailed more, but not for the ambassador. For passing
through England, and being honourably entertained and received
of King Henry, who ever applied himself with much respect to
the see of Eome, he fell into great grace with the King, and great
familiarity and friendship with Morton, the Chancellor ; inso-
much as the Bang, taking a liking to him, and finding him to his
mind, preferred him to the bishopric of Hereford, and afterwards
to that of Bath and Wells, and employed him in many of his
affairs of state that had relation to Rome. He was a man of
great learning, wisdom, and dexterity in business of state ; and
having not long after ascended to the degree of cardinal, paid the
King large tribute of his gratitude in diligent and judicious adver-
tisement of the occurrents of Italy. Nevertheless, in the end of
his time, he was partaker of the conspiracy which Cardinal Al-
phonso Petrucci, and some other cardinals, had plotted against the
life of Pope Leo. And this offence, in itself so heinous, was yet in
him aggravated by the motive thereof, which was not malice or
discontent, but an aspiring mind to the papacy. And in this
height of impiety there wanted not an intermixture of levity and
folly ; for that, as was generally believed, he was animated to
expect the papacy by a fatal mockery, the prediction of a sooth-
sayer, which was, ^That one should succeed Pope Leo whose
name should be Adrian, an aged man, of mean birth, and of great
learning and wisdom.* By which character and figure he took
himself to be described, though it was fulfilled of Adrian the

MiBPB^MMViHBiVBni«B«iBHBPIBIH*hlfl

336 NOTES.

Fleming, son of a Dutch brewer, Cardinal of Tortosa, and pre-
ceptor unto Charles the Fifth ; the same that, not changing his
Christian name, was afterwards called Adrian the Sixth.** — Lord
Bacon*s Works, vol. y. pp. 59, 60.

See also — ^Rymer, Foed., torn, vi, par. i., p. 141 — ^the letter of
the Cardinal Giulio de Medici to Wolsey, upon the Pontiff's de-
position of Cardinal Adrian from his bishopric.

In respect to the fate of Cardinal Adrian — subsequent to his
escape from Rome — ^the historians of the day give us nothing
satisfactory ; thus leaving fair room to the probabilities of imagina-
tion.

Gukciardini says (1. xiiL) : " He left Rome in private, but,
whatever became of him, he was never, as far as we know, found
nor seen in any place afterwards.**

Valerian de Literat infelic^ lib. i., p. L, states from the then
general supposition, that he was murdered by one of his servants,
for the sake of the gold which he had secreted about his person,
in his flight.

I have availed myself of this uncertainty about the fate of
Cardinal Adrian. However, should his personal history be of
interest to any ecclesiastical scholar, it may be of service to him
for me to quote the following from a work of great elegance and
research (Dennistoim) : — " A mystery which hung over the fate
of Adriano has been partially cleared up by my friend Mr.
Rawdon Brown, from the Sanuto Diaries, wherein it appears
that he safely reached Venice, through Calabria, and that the
occasion of his unaccoimtable disappearance was a journey to the
Conclave, on Leo*s death, not his flight from Rome in the present
year, as stated by Guicciardini, Yalenano, and Rosooe.***

• Vat Urb. MSS', No. 907, f. 28, 80.

NOTES. 337

NoTB 3, page 209.

" Towards the close of Raffaello's life, a Venetian painter,
Sebastiano del Fiombo, whose talent it was sought to oppose to
that of Raffaello, had, in his ignorance of fresco, formed the de-
sign of painting in oil upon plaster. Raffaello, equally expert in
both methods of painting, desired also to try the new process ; and
he proposed to employ it in the paintings of the hall of Con-
stantine. The stucco was accordingly prepared with this view.
We learn from Vasari that the success did not correspond to the
hopes which had been formed of this innovation. In fact, Giulio
Romano, when he afterwards proceeded to paint the Battle of
Constantine, removed the stucco that had been prepared for oils,
and returned to the ordinary process employed in fresco painting."
— History of the Life and Works of Raffaello, by Quatremere de
Quincy, p. 386.

Note 4, page 212.

" Vasari, a contemporary historian, relates that Raffaello had
been flattered with the intimation, that when he should have ter-
minated all the works of the Vatican, his recompense should be a
Cardinal's hat, which the Pope reserved for him. In fact, Leo X.
did project a numerous promotion of personages ; amongst whom,
says the same biographer, several had far less merit than Raffaello.
Nearly all the writers, both of the time and later, have mentioned
the circumstance, and the following observations may render the
statement additionally probable.

" In the first place, as in many other points, we must be careful
not to judge the proceedings of one age by the proceedings of
another. The eminent dignity of Cardinal was not always con-

VOL. I. Z

338 NOTES.

sidered under the merely religious point of view, which has since
been attached to it. It did not then — any more, indeed, than now
— require that the person decorated with the purple should be in
orders. We can say further, that, at this epoch, there had been
introduced into the bestowal of ecclesiastical benefices, as well as
into the manners of the clergy, some abuses which strongly con-
trasted with the regularity which has since prevailed. It hap-
pened, too, more than once to Leo X. to subserve in the choice of
persons for the cardinalate, less the duty of a Pontiff than the
predilections of a man of taste — ^the passionate friend of arts and
letters.

"With reference to'Raffaello himself, considered as a painter, we
will observe, that the opinion of time had not established as to
some professions, certain incompatibilities which depend on the
various ways of viewing things, according to time and country.
The distance which later centuries may have established between
the exercise of the arts of design, and the possession of an eminent
dignity in the church, would not exist, at least in the same degree,
at a period when painting, being principally employed in decorating
sacred places, almost exclusively treated of religious subjects, and
when the cloisters themselves contained able artists in every
class.

" Lastly, knowing as we do, that celebrity, riches, and high
position of fortune, ever confer upon those who enjoy such advan-
tages a consideration which justifies the elevation to which they
aspire, we must acknowledge that all these titles to social supe-
riority were united in Raffaello. He had at Rome a considerable
property, possessing a beautiful palace in the city, and in the
neighbourhood a pretty country house. He was very rich. Cselio
Calcagnini calls him vir prcedives. He held at court the office of
groom of the chamber (cubicularius), and he had much credit
with the Pope. Yasari tells us, that he lived not as a painter,
but as a prince : non da pittore ma du principe,

" But certain more special facts warrant the belief that he
aimed at the cardinalate. To render this ambition on his part
more practically intelligible, we must observe, that in disposing of
a hat, the Pope conferred a distinction with which he bestowed
the title and the revenue attached to it, and dispensing the pes-

NOTES. 339

sessor from spiritual functions, answering to what is elsewhere
called a sinecure. It appears that the state of marriage was not
compatible with this title; and here, again, we have explained
Baffaello's repugnance to marrying, or, at least, his delay in
accepting the honourable match offered to him.

*' Intimate with the most distinguished persons in Rome, he
reckoned among his friends Cardinal Bibbiena, who, wishing to
marry, offered him his niece.

" We have the proof of this, not only in Vasari, but also in a
= letter from Raffaello himself, to one of his uncles. In this letter
he refers to the proposal of marriage made to him by the Car-
dinal, and which the uncle supported ; but he then says, ex-
pressly, that he thinks he has, for rejecting the offer, more
reasons than his uncle has for counselling him to accept it." — Ibid,
pp. 407-8.

Note 5, page 242.

" Men of letters, of what religion or nation soever, are bound to
praise and bless the memory of this Pope for the care he took to
recover the manuscripts of the ancients : he spared neither pains
nor bost in searching for them, and procuring very good editions.
I have two anecdote letters which are a proof of it. They were
communicated to me by M. de Seidel, privy-counsellor to his
Prussian majesty. . . The copy he was pleased to send me of these
two letters of Leo X. is faithful and exact ; he has the originals
written by him — written in Sadoleto's own hand. I shall observe,
by-the-by, that they have printed in the Nova literaria Maris
BaUici et Septentrionis (86), for the month of November 1699, a
letter written on a subject of the same nature to his Danish ma-
jesty, by Leo X., the eighth of November 1517." — Bayle's Diet,
art. LeoX.

340 NOTES.

In the text, I have adduced the beginning of the first of these
letters. His Holiness proceeds to say : —

" We have been informed that, of the said ancient books, there
are not a few in possession of your fraternity, or in the places
subject to your jurisdiction, especially relating to Roman history.
Wherefore, intending to procure the publication of as many such
books as can come to our hands, for the common good of all
learned men, we affectionately exhort your fraternity, and earn-
estly exhort you in the Lord, that if ever you propose to do a
grateful action, you would transmit to us, as soon as possible, fair
and correct copies of all those books, or which we rather wish, the
books themselves, which shall be returned to you, as soon as
transcribed here, according to an obligation drawn up in our
apostolical chamber, or such as the said John (Heytmers) our
commissary, bearer of these presents, sufficiently instructed for
that purpose, shall think fit to be drawn up in the name of the
said chamber. And because the said John (Heytmers) has pro-
mised in a short time to give us the Thirty-third Book of Livy,
of the Macedonian war, we have commissioned him to give it into
your fraternity's hands, to be transmitted as soon as possible, by a
faithful messenger, to us, or our beloved son, Philip Bersaldus,
librarian of our apostolical palace. But because we have ordered
to be paid, here in the city, to the said John (Heytmers) a certain
sum of money, and are indebted to him a certain quantity, for
expenses already made and to be made, we will, and authorize, and
command your fraternity, after he shall have received the said
Book of Livy, to pay, or cause to be paid to the said John
(Heytmers), 147 gold ducats of the chamber, out of the money
arising from indulgences granted through those provinces, in
favour of the royal fabric of the Prince of the Apostles ; which
sum we will allow in the accounts between your fraternity and
the apostolic chamber, as at present we do allow and order to be
allowed. You are, likewise, to assist the said John (Heytmers)
with safe-conducts, letters, and aids, and help him, through your
provinces, in coming at books, and if occasion be, engage your
word for him, that the books shall be returned at a certain time,
and sent back to their places; which if your fraternity shall do,
as we are fully persuaded you will, you will acquire a great

KOT£S. 341

reputation among learned men, and perform a thing most ac-
ceptable to us.

" Given at Rome, at St. Peter's, under the Fisherman's Ring,
Noyember 26, 1517, in the fifth year of our Pontificate.

" Ja. Sadoleto."

Here is the second of these letters : —

" To our venerable brother, Albert, Archbishop of Mentz,
Electoral Prince and Primate of Germany.

"Beloved Sons, Health and Apostolical Benediction.

" Our beloved son, John Heytmers de Zonvelben, Ecclesiastic of
the diocese of Liege, whom we lately appointed special Nuncio
and Commissary from us and the Apostolical See, to the illus-
trious nations of Germany, Denmark, Sweden, and Gothland, to
search after ancient books, has informed us, that he has received
letters from a certain person, whom he had appointed for that pur-
pose, in which he acquaints him, that he had found in your library
an ancient book, containing all the decades of Livy, and that he had
obtained your leave to transcribe them, not being allowed to have
the original book. We commend your humanity and benevolence
to the Apostolical See. But, my beloved sons, we resolved from
the very beginning of our Pontificate, to promote and favour,
with God's assistance, all men of merit, especially learned men.
With this view, we procure these kind of ancient books, so much
wanted, as many as can come to our hands, to be first corrected by
very learned men, of which there are many, by the gift of God, in
our Court, and afterwards to be carefully printed, for the common
benefit of the learned. But, if we have not the original books
themselves, our design will not be fully answered, because these
books, the copies only being seen, cannot be published correctly.
We have given orders in our Apostolical Chamber, that a suffi-
cient security be given that these books shall be restored whole
and uninjured to their owners, as soon as they shall have been
here transcribed ; and the said John (Heytmers) whom we have
again deputed as Commissary for the aforesaid purpose, has a

342 KOTES.

suffident order to the same Chamber, to oblige it to the said
restitation, in the manner and form he shall think proper. We
only aim at the benefit and advantage of learned men. Of which,
onr beloved sons, the Abbot and Convent of the Monastery of
Corvey, of the order of St. Benedict of Faderbom, are ample
witnesses ; out of whose library, when the five first books of the
Koman Ilistory of Cornelius Tacitus were stolen, and through
many hands, came at last into ours, we took care to have them
first corrected by the aforesaid learned men, residing in our Court,
and were at the expense of printing them, with the rest of the
works which were extant of the said Tacitus. Afterwards, the
matter being discovered, we sent one of the volumes of the said
Tacitus, corrected, printed, and handsomely bound, to the said
Abbot and Monastery of Corvey, to be placed in the library, in
the room of that which was stolen. And that they might know
that this theft turned rather to their advantage than disadvantage,
we sent them a perpetual indulgence for the church of their
monastery. Wherefore, with the utmost affection, and in virtue
of holy obedience, we exhort and, with sincere charity in the
Lord, require you and any of you, that if you ever intend to
oblige us, ye would admit the said John (Heytmers) into your
library, and suffer him to transmit to us from thence both
the said book of Livy, and others that he shall think proper,
which shall be returned to you by us, together with no common
reward.

'* Given at Rome, at St. Feter*s, under the Fisherman's King,
December 1, 1517, in the fifth year of our Pontificate.

" Ja. Sadolsto."

Note 6, page 244.

What I have quoted in the text ia but an innocent play at
dexterity in the rhythm and classical recollection of Roman poetry.

NOTES. 343

Quemus, the Pope's Laureate, or Jester, kept up much such ver-
sicular play with the Pontiff.

It must be confessed, however, that the Pope's love of
buffoonery was very seldom so innocent. — Jov. in Elog., cap.

IXXJQL

Note 7, page 244.

See Hist. Eom. duobus libris Auctae, cum Flori Epitome, k
Desid. Erasmo et Ulric Hutteno. Mogunt. ap. Joan. Schoeffer,
1518, fol. The first edition, in which the thirty-third book, with
the first seventeen chapters almost effaced, and the fortieth, from
the thirty-seventh chapter, were made known to the world.

Note 8, page 248.

"The efforts of Leo X. for the promotion of liberal studies,
were emulated by many persons of rank and opulence ; but by no
one with greater munificence and success than by a merchant who
had for some time resided at Rome, and who deserves more par-
ticular commemoration in the annals both of literature and art
than he has hitherto attained. Agostino Chisij Chigi, or Ghisi^
as he is variously named, was a native of Siena, who, having fre-
quent occasion in his mercantile concerns to resort to Rome, at
length fixed his abode there, and erected for himself a splendid
mansion in the Transtevere^ which he decorated with works in
painting and sculpture, by the greatest artists of the time. He
had long been considered as the wealthiest merchant in Italy;
and on the expedition of Charles VIII. against the kingdom of

344 NOTES.

Naples, had advanced for the use of that monarch a considerable
sum of money, which, however, there is reason to believe he had
not the good fortune to recover. That he carried on an extensive
intercourse with foreign parts, may be conjectured from the appli-
cations made on his behalf to the French court for the liberation
of certain ships belonging to him, which had been captured during
the contests between Louis XII. and Julius II. and detained in
the ports of France. On the rejoicings which had taken place on
the procession of Leo X. to the Lateran, Agostino exceeded in the
magnificence and taste of the devices exhibited in honour of the
Pontiff, every other individual in Rome. A great jwrt of his
wealth was supposed to have arisen from his having rented, under
Julius n. the mines of salt and of alum belonging to the Roman
see. On the elevation of Leo X. the profits of the latter had
been granted to Lorenzo, the nephew of the Pontiff; but after a
long negotiation between him and Agostino, in which the latter
appears to have conducted himself with great propriety, and even
liberality, the contract with him, as sole vendor of this article, was
renewed. From this period we find him frequently mentioned in
the confidential correspondence of the Medici family, as their asso-
ciate and friend. Of the liberal encouragement which he offered
to the professors of painting, sculpture, and every other branch of
art, and of the partiality and attachment with which he was re-
garded by them, instances will occur to our future notice ; but the
professors of literature were not without his share of attention ;
and whilst Leo X. was employing all his efforts for the restoration
of ancient learning, Agostino had devoted himself to the same
object in a manner which confers great honour on his memory.
Among those learned men whom he had distinguished by his par-
ticular favour was Comelio Benigno, of Viterbo, who united to a
sound critical judgment an intimate acquaintance with the Greek
tongue, and had before joined with a few other eminent scholars
in revising and correcting the geographical work of Ptolomseus,
which was published at Rome in the year 1507. Under the
patronage of Chigi, Cornelio undertook to superintend an edition
of the writings of Pindar, accompanied by the Greek Scholia . . .
A printing-press was established in the house of Agostino, and at his
expense, and by the labour of his learned associates, a fine edition

NOTES. 345

in quarto of the works of Pindar was published in the month of
August, 1515," &c. &c. — Roscoe's Life of Leo X., vol. ii. pp.
361-5.

Note 9, page 283.

" When the fin^t lectures in Greek were given at Oxford, about
1519, a party of students arrayed themselves, by the name of
Trojans, to withstand the innovators, by dint of clamour and
violence, till the king interfered to support the learned side. See
a letter of More, giving an account of this in Jortin's Appendix,
p. 662. Cambridge, it is to be observed, was very peaceable at
this time, and suffered those who liked it to learn something
worth knowing. See Erasm. Epist. ccclxxx.

" Antony Wood, with rather an excess of academical prejudice,
insinuates that the Trojans, who waged war against Oxonian
Greek, were * Cambridge men, as it is reported.' He endeavours
to exaggerate the deficiencies of Cambridge in literature at this
time, as if ' all things were full of rudeness and barbarousness ;'
which the above letters of More and Erasmus show not to have
been altogether the case. On the contrary. More says, that even
those who did not learn Greek contributed to pay the lecturer." —
Hallam's Lit. of Europe, vol. i. p. 285, note.

Note 10, page 285.

" The increasing celebrity of Luther attracted to Wittemberg
an immense concourse of students. It was a complete hive,
Luther himself tells us. An author, nearly contemporary, says,

346 NOTES.

^ I have heard from our preceptors, that students from all nations
came to Wittemberg to hear Luther and Melancthon. As soon as
they got within sight of the town, they returned thanks to God,
with clasped hands; for from Wittemberg, as heretofore from
Jerusalem, proceeded the light of evangelical truth, to spread
thence to the uttermost parts of the earth/ — (JSchvJUetus^ annul -
Unu^ anno 1517.)" — Michelet*8 Life of Luther, p. 41, note 2.

Note 11, page 289.

'^Instead of receiving with satisfaction and respect the high
mark of pontifical favour of which Miltitz was the bearer, the
Elector desired it might be consigned to an officer of his court,
who would convey it to him without the formality of a public
interview ; and to the remonstrances of Miltitz respecting Luther,
he coldly answered, that he would not act as a judge to oppress a
man whom he hitherto considered as innocent.***-Koscoe*s Life of
Leo X., vol. iv. p. 6.

NoTB 12, pages 293 and 302.

See Lutheri Opera in Fraef., and Michelet's Life of Luther
(Hazlitt), p. 55, \

Also, Luth. opp. (L.) xvii., p. 389.

NOTES. 347

Note 13, page 296.

See Luther*s Mental and Spiritual History, by Bamas Sears,
D.D., p. 171 ; and fl.lso Luther's Briefe, ii. 107.

NoTB 14, page 303.
See Kobertson's Charles V., Book i. p. 221 (Talboys' edition).

Note 15, page 307.
See Howitt's Student-Life of Germany, p. 317.

Note 16, page 322.

" Such were the hopes of the candidates, and the views of the
different princes, when the diet was opened according to form at
Frankfort. The right of choosing an Emperor had long been
vested in seven great princes, distinguished by the name of Elec-
tors ; the origin of whose office, as well as the nature and extent
of their powers, have already been explained. These were, at
that time, Albert of Brandenburgh, Archbishop of Mentz ; Her-
man, Count de Wied, Archbishop of Cologne ; Richard de Greif-

348 NOTES.

fenklaUf Archbishop of Triers ; Lewis, Ejng of Bohemia ; Lewis,
Count Palatine of the Rhine ; Frederick, Duke of Saxony ; and
Joachim the First, Marqnis of Brandenbui^h. Notwithstanding
the aitfol arguments produced by the ambassadors of the two
kings in favour of their respective masters, and in spite of all their
solicitations, intrigues, and presents, the Electors did not forget
that maxim, on which the liberty of the (merman constitution was
thought to be founded. Among the members of the Germanic
body, which is a great republic, composed of states almost inde-
pendent, the first principle of patriotism^ is to depress and linut
the power of the Emperor ; and of this idea, so natural under
such a form of government, a Grerman politician seldom loses
sight. No prince of considerable power or extensive dominions
had for some ages been raised to the Imperial throne. To this
prudent precaution many of the great families in Germany owed
the splendour and independence which they had acquired during
that period. To elect either of the contending monarchs would
have been a gross violation of that salutary maxim ; would have
given to the empire a master instead of an head ; and would
have reduced themselves from the rank of being almost his equals
to the condition of his subjects.

^* Full of these ideas, all the Electors turned their eyes towards
Frederick, Duke of Saxony ; a prince of such eminent virtue and
abilities, as to be distinguished by the name of the ' Sage,' and
with one voice they offered him the Imperial crown. He was not
dazzled with that object, which monarchs, so far superior to him
in power, courted with such eagerness ; and a^r deliberating upon
the matter for a short time, he rejected it with a magnanimity
and disinterestedness no less singular than admirable. ^ Nothing,'
he observed, * could be more impolitic than an obstinate adherence
to a maxim which, though sound and just in many cases, was not
applicable to all.' * In times of tranquillity,' said he, ' we wish for
an Emperor who has not power to invade our liberties ; times of
danger demand one who is able to secure our safety. The Turkish
armies, led by a gallant and victorious monarch, are now assem-
bling. They are ready to pour in upon Germany with a violence
unknown in former ages. New conjunctures call for new expe-
dients. The Imperial sceptre must be committed to some hand

KOTES. 349

more powerful than mine, or that of any other German prince.
We possess neither dominions, nor revenues, nor authority, which
enahle us to encounter sueh a formidable enemy. Recourse must
be had in this exigency to one of the rival monarchs. Each of
them can bring into the field forces sufficient for our defence. But
as the King of Spain is of German extraction ; as he is a member
and prince of the Empire, by the territories which descend to
him from his grandfather ; as his dominions stretch along that
frontier which lies most exposed to the enemy ; his claim is pre-
ferable, in my opinion, to that of a stranger to our language, to
our blood, and to our country, and therefore I give my vote to
confer on him the Imperial crown.' "—Robertson's Charles V.,
Book i. pp. 227-8.

Note 17, page 336.

" On proceeding to the act of Election, on the twenty-eighth
day of June, Charles of Austria, King of Spain, was elected
Emperor by the joint votes of four Electors : the Archbishop of
Mentz, the Archbishop of Cologne, the Count Palatine, and the
Duke of Saxony ; but the Archbishop of Triers gave his vote
for the Marquis of Brandenburgh, who also concurred with him
in the election of himself. Nor was it doubted that if, by the
equality of votes, the Election had come to the disposal of the
seventh Elector, the event would have been the same, for Lewis,
King of Bohemia, who was also King of Hungary, had promised
his vote to Charles." — Guicciardini, L. xiii., 134-5.

Note 18, page 330.

" The King of France was every day more and more deluded
by hearkening to the mighty promises of the Marquis of Bran-
denburgh, one of the Electors, who having received from him

350 NOTES.

very large offers of money, and perhaps a sum in hand, had not
only obliged himself by some secret artifices to give him his vote,
but promised that the Archbishop of Mentz, his brother, one of
the three Electoral Prelates, should do the same.*^ — Guicdardini,
1. ziii., 132.
The King of France had indeed been deluded.

END OF NOTES TO VOL. I.

London :

Printed by Stewart and Muskat,

Old Bailey.

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