The first glances between Emich and Bonifacius
were filled with those passions which each had so
long dissembled, and of which the reader has already
had glimpses during the more unguarded moments
of the recent debauch. In the eyes of the
Count, triumph mingled with hatred; while there
still remained a slight covering of artifice and caution
about the lineaments of the Abbot, masks that
he scarcely thought it yet expedient to throw entirely
aside.

“We owe this visit, then, to thee, Herr Emich?”
said the latter, struggling to appear calm.

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

“And to thine own desert, most holy Bonifacius.”

“What wouldst thou, audacious Baron?”

“Peace in this oft-violated valley—humility in
shaven crowns—religion without hypocrisy—and
mine own.”

“I will not talk to thee of Heaven, bold man, for
the word were blasphemy in such a presence; but
thou art not yet so lost to worldly policy as to overlook
the punishment of the Empire. Hast thou well
counted thy gold, and art thou sure thy coffers are
sufficiently stored to rebuild the sainted pile which
thy hand would fain destroy—or dost think thy riches
can replace all that pious princes have here bestowed,
during ages in which the Church hath been duly
reverenced?”

“As to thy vessels and precious stones, reverend
Abbot, it shall be my heed to preserve them to meet
this demand, which haply may never be made; and
as to the cost of rebuilding the Abbey, why the
same notable workman that helped first to set it up,
will owe me a good turn for punishing those that
outwitted him, and sent him away without the promised
boon of souls. Though, God's truth! were the
fact fairly dived into, I am of opinion that Limburg,
after all, hath sent more customers to his furnaces,
than all the drinking-inns and pot-houses of the Palatinate!”

This sally of their Lord produced a general and
deriding laugh among his followers, who now began
to flock into the church from other parts of the
Abbey, with the expectation that there was rich
plunder to be had in the sanctuary. It was about
this time, too, that a brand was cast among the
straw of the barracks, and the strong light which
glared through the stained windows very effectually
told the monks of the inefficiency of further remonstrances.

Notwithstanding his known licentiousness, and the

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

general freedom of his life, the Abbot had imbibed,
from the high objects of his calling, by that secret
process that renders even the least deserving in
some measure subject to the influence of their professions,
a cast of dignity, and perhaps we might
add even of sincerity (for there is often a strange
admixture of inherent faith and practical unbelief
about the dissolute) that caused him frequently to
rise to the level of his most solemn duties, A character
strong and masculine as his, could not be
aroused without displaying some of its latent energies,
be it for good or be it for evil; and Emich had
doubts of the result, when he witnessed the manner
in which his enemy succeeded in repressing his
fierce resentment, and the expression of clerical
dignity and official calmness that reigned in his
countenance. The Abbot arose, like a prelate in
the undisturbed exercise of his functions, and raising
his voice, so as to send his words to the deepest
recesses of the chapel, he spoke after the manner
of the peculiar rites of the Church he served.

“God, in his hidden wisdom, hath permitted to
the wicked a momentary triumph,” he said; “we
search not now into the reasons of this mysterious
dispensation; the truth will be known in his own
time:—but, as servitors of the altar—as guardians
of this holy sanctuary—as the sworn and professed
of Heaven—as one consecrated and blessed—there
remaineth a solemn, an imperative duty to perform.”

“Bonifacius, beware!” interrupted the Count of
Leiningen; “thou dealest not now with burgomasters
and weeping wives.”

“In the behalf, then, of that God to whom this
shrine hath been raised,” continued the unmoved
Abbot, “in his holy interest, and in his holy name”—

“At thy peril, priest!” and Emich shook, partly
in anger, and partly in a terror he could scarce explain.

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

“As his unworthy but necessary minister—as
consecrated and blessed—gifted with the power by
the head of the Church, and now required to use it,
do I pronounce thee”—

“Where are ye, followers of Hartenburg? Down
with the silly maledictions of this mad monk; remember
ye are not trembling women, to need a
Benedictine's blessing!”

The voice of Emich was drowned, as well as
that of the Abbot, by the noises that were now
raised in the chapel. The first interruption came
from a long dark instrument, that was thrust from
out of the aisle behind the throne of Bonifacius, and
within a few feet of his head; an interruption that
filled the whole edifice with the wild, plaintive
strains of the mountains.

This signal, which came from the cherry-wood
trumpet of Gottlob, who rarely went abroad without
this badge of his profession, was immediately followed
by a general shout from the band of the
Count, and by a variety of similar sounds, that were
raised by different instruments that had hitherto been
mute. The effect of these shrill strains, echoing
among the vaulted and fretted roofs, which were
brightly illuminated by the growing and fierce light
that now pervaded the church, and of the seeming
calm of the Abbot, who ended his malediction, spite
of the uproar, is left to the reader's imagination.
When he had finished the unheard curse, Bonifacius
looked about him in gloomy observation.

It was evident to his cool and instructed mind,
which was far too earthly in its habits, to cling to
any hopes of a merely spiritual nature, that the out-rage
had already gone so far, as to render it more
hazardous to his enemy to retreat than to advance.
Signing to the community, he descended slowly, and
with dignity, from his throne, and led the way from
the choir. The ready monks obeyed, the fraternity

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

walking from that extraordinary scene, in their customary
silent order. Emich followed the dark procession
with a troubled eye, for even the conqueror
regards the calm retreat of his foes with uneasiness,
and there was an instant of painful distrust of his
own purpose, as the last flowing robe vanished
through a private door that led to a secret postern,
by which the routed Benedictines quitted a mountain,
where they had so long dwelt, in the calm, and, we
might add, in the ease, of an affluent and privileged
seclusion.

The invaders of the Abbey took this open abandonment
of the place by its ancient possessors, to
be an unequivocal admission of their triumph. There
is no moment so likely to produce excesses, as that
in which the uncertainty of strife is changed to the
certainty of victory. The feelings seem willing to
avenge themselves for all their previous doubts, and
man is ever too ready to ascribe his successes to some
inherent qualities, which give him an apparent right
to abuse any advantages that may happen to be
their consequence. The band of the castle and the
people of the town, among whom a large proportion
had to the last distrusted the presence of the
community, to which vulgar opinion attributed the
power of working miracles, no sooner found themselves,
as they believed, in undisputed possession of
the mountain, than the reaction of feeling, to which
there has just been allusion, urged them to increase
their violence, and to redouble those efforts which
had momentarily been checked.

A shout of triumph was the common signal for
renewing the assault. It was followed by the crashing
of windows, and the overthrow of every fixture
in the body of the church, that was not too solid to
resist their first and ill-directed efforts, and a general
mutilation of the monuments and labored statuary.
Marble cherubs fell on every side, wings and limbs

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

of angels separated from the trunks, and the grave
and bearded visages of many an honored saint were
doomed to endure contumely and fractures. Even
the inferior altars were no longer respected, but they
and their decorations were ruthlessly scattered, as
if the enmity of the conquerors was tranferred from
those who had administered at them, to the dreaded
Being in whose name the rites had been celebrated.

The reader will imagine the confusion and tumult
that attended a scene like this. During the uproar,
Emich buried his face in his mantle, and paced to
and fro in the choir, which his presence, and perhaps
some lingering reverence for the sacred spot,
still preserved from violence. He was joined only
by the Burgomaster and Berchthold, the remainder
of the party having mingled with those who were
destroying the chapels and decorations of the church.
Heinrich seated himself in one of the vacant stalls,
for the recent scene and the subsequent parting with
his wife had shaken his resolution; while the young
Forester advanced respectfully to the side of his
lord.

“Is the Herr Count troubled?” demanded the
latter, after a moment of deferential silence.

Emich dropped the cloak, and leaning a hand
familiarly on the shoulder of his young servitor, he
stood regarding the gorgeous riches and the elaborate
beauty of the high altar, all of which was rendered
doubly imposing by the powerful light that
now illuminated the whole interior of the edifice,
which was never more beautiful than as then seen,
with its strong relief and deep shadows.

“Berchthold, there is a God!” he said with emphasis.

“None but the fool doubts it, Herr Emich.”

“And he hath his ministers on earth—those whom
he hath commissioned to do him pleasure, and to
burn his incense.”

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

“We have high authority for this belief, my good
Lord.”

“We have—the authority is high, that hath so
much antiquity—which so suits our secret desires—
which descends to us from our fathers.”

“And which is so supported by proofs, sacred
and profane.”

“Thou hast been well schooled, good Berchthold,”
said the Count, looking earnestly at his companion.

“Heaven left me a pious and tender mother,
when it took my father away.”

Emich continued to lean on the shoulder of Berchthold,
while his eye, in which sternness of purpose
was singularly blended with the waverings of doubt,
never turned from its contemplation of the altar.
Above the chased and gilded cabinet which contained
the host, was a small picture of the Mother of
Christ, delineated in those mild and attractive colors
with which the pencil is accustomed to portray the
Virgin Wife of Joseph. Her eye seemed to meet
the gaze of Emich in sorrow. It was easy to fancy
the gentle expression was in reproach of the sacrilege.

“These Benedictines are at length unhoused”—
he continued, trying fruitlessly to avert his look
from that mild but expressive image; “they have
too long ridden roughly on their betters.”

Berchthold bowed.

“Dost thou see aught strange, youth, in that image
of Maria?”

“'Tis a skilful design, Herr Count, and a fair face
to regard.”

“Methinks it looks upon this violence with an evil
eye!”

“'Tis but the work of an ingenious man, my
Lord, and cannot look other than it hath always
seemed.”

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

“Dost think thus, Berchthold? There are many
who pretend that images and paintings have been
known to speak, when it was Heaven's pleasure.”

“They relate such legends, my good Lord, but
these are events that are little wont to touch those
who are not much disposed to see them.”

“And yet in these facts had my fathers faith, and
in this belief was I trained!”

Berchthold was mute, his own education having
been more suited to the growing opinions of the
times.

“That God can surpass the ordinary workings
of nature, to effect his pleasure,” continued Emich,
“we may at least believe.”

“It may be believed, Herr Count, but is it necessary?
He who made nature may use it at his pleasure.”

“Ha! thou hast no faith in miracles, boy!”

“I am myself a miracle, that tells me every moment
of the existence of a superior power; and in
that much I bend to its control. But it hath never
been my fortune to hear an image speak, or see it
do aught else that belongs to the will.”

“By my father's bones! but thou art fit to deal
with the cunningest knave that wears a cowl! How
now, brave followers!” turning towards his people;
“leave no vestige of the roguery and abominations
that have so long been done within these polluted
walls!”

“Herr Count!” said Berchthold eagerly, presuming
in his haste to touch the cloak of Emich, “here
are the Benedictines!”

The word caused the bold, and at that moment the
independent Baron to turn suddenly, laying a hand
on his sword, as he did so. But the hand released
its grasp, and the features of Emich immediately
reverted to their former expression of anxiety and
doubt, at what he now beheld.

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

By this time all of the different edifices which
composed the Abbey of Limburg were fired, the
church and its immediate appendages alone excepted.
The consequence was such an increase of light
within the latter, as penetrated the most obscure of
its Gothic recesses. The choir, above all, received
the strongest illumination; and young Berchthold
thought its tracery never appeared so beautiful as in
that fearful moment of impending destruction. The
candles and lamps of the great altar began to look
dim, and all around prevailed the glorious and fiery
brightness which accompanies a fierce conflagration.
During the instant that Emich was turned towards
his people, two monks had come from the sacristy,
and placed themselves on the steps of the altar. They
were the Prior and Father Johan. The former bore
a small ivory crucifix, which from time to time he
kissed, while the latter placed at his feet a massive
and curiously carved chest, of sufficient size and
weight to have required the aid of a lay-brother to
bring it from its repository.

The countenance of the Prior was mild, persuasive,
and filled with holy concern. That of his
companion flushed, excited, and bearing the look of
feverish fire, which is the effect of an enthusiasm
that springs as much from temperament, as from
conviction.

Emich looked at the Benedictines uneasily, and
he advanced so near, always attended by the Forester,
as to be within reach of his arm.

“'Fore God, but ye are tardy, Fathers,” he said,
determined to assume an indifference he was far
from feeling; “the pious Bonifacius hath departed
many minutes, and quickened, as he is, by love of
his person, I make no question that his footsteps
have already gone down the mountain side!”

“Thou hast at length yielded to the whispering
of the devil, Count of Leiningen!” returned the

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

Prior; “thou art resolute that this blot shall rest
upon thy soul!”

“We are not at confession, holy Arnolph, but engaged
in a knightly redressing of our rights; if thou
hast aught here, that is dear to thee, take it, of God's
name, and go thy way. Thou shalt have safe conduct,
were it to the gates of Rome; for, of all thy
fraternity, thou art he for whom alone I feel regret
or amity, in this just enterprise.”

“I know not this difference in love, when it touches
the existence of our shrine, or the duty that ties us
to its service. This question is not between thee and
me, Lord Emich, but between thee and God!”

“Have it as thou wilt, Herr Prior, so thou dost
but depart in peace.”

“I am not weak enough to resist when resistance
is vain,” mildly answered the Monk; “nor am I
quick to desert my post, while there is hope. Thou
hast not well bethought thee of this act, Emich;
thou hast not remembered thy posterity, nor thy kind
interest in the noble Ermengarde!”

“Dost fancy me an uxorious citizen, reverend
Arnolph, that thou wouldest fain stop a knight in his
onset, by speaking of the good wife and her babes?”

As he concluded, Emich laughed.

“Thou hast not well conceived me. This is not
a question of death in battle, or of the grief of those
who survive; for such thoughts are, unhappily, but
too common with those who rule the earth, to raise
disquiet; but I would speak to thee of the long
future and of its pains. Dost thou know, irreverend
Baron, that the God of Israel—who is my God and
thine—the God of Israel hath said, that he will visit
the sins of the parent upon the descendant, from
generation to generation? and yet, blinded by this
specious success, thou seemest to court his anger.”

“This may be so or not; for ye of the cloisters
have many subtle ways of reasoning as you wish:

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

but to me it appeareth better that each should suffer
for his own sins; and such, I take it, is what the
community of Limburg doth now undergo.”

“That we have done much evil, and neglected
much good, is, alas, too true!”

“By the kings of Koeln! thou art getting to be
of our side, holy Arnolph!”

“For such is the common course,” continued the
unmoved Prior,—“but that thou art not our judge
is equally certain. That each does and will suffer
for his own acts is beyond denial, but the fearful
consequences of crime do not stop with him who
hath committed it. This much is taught us by reason;
and what is still more sure, it is consecrated by
words from God's own mouth. Ponder, then, whilst
thou may, on the load of sorrow thou art heaping on
thy descendants: remember that thou standest there,
subject to goading passions, the miserable being
thou art, simply that in thy person thou payest the
price of a parent's sins. What our common father
did, is still avenged on us his children.”

“How now, Herr Prior, thou pushest my pedigree
much beyond its pretensions. Noble and princely,
if thou wilt, but I pass not the dark ages in any
of my claims. Let them that have greater ambition
pay for the purchase in the way thou namest; I am
content with more modern honors.”

Emich spoke jeeringly, but the attentive Monk
saw that he was troubled.

“If thou hast no thought for posterity—none for
thyself—none for thy God, Emich,” the latter resumed,
“bethink thee of those who have gone before.
Hast already forgotten thy visit to the tombs of
thy family?”

“Thou hast me there, Arnolph!—those sacred
vaults have been thy convent's shield these many
months!”

“And thou art now disposed to forget them?”

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

“If thou wilt ask yon honest men, they will tell
thee, Prior, they have no order to spare the meanest
of thy marble cherubs, even though it hover over
a grave of mine own house.”

“Then do I indeed despair of touching thy heart!”
answered Father Arnolph, sorrowing as much for
the crime as for its consequences. “Then indeed
art thou madly and ruthlessly bent, not only on our
destruction, but on thine own; for pity for the child,
and love of the parent, are equally despised. Emich
of Leiningen, I curse thee not—this is a weapon
too fearful for human hands lightly to wield.—I
bless thee not; duty to God forbids the holy office.”

“Hold! reverend Arnolph, let us not part in anger—
I would, in sooth, crave from thy worthy hands
some touch of consolation—if—ay—if there be
chapel in this church, for which thou hast more than
usual reverence, let it be named, and I swear, by
knight's faith, unless the work be already done, it
shall stand unscathed amid the ruins, in testimony
of my love for thee—or if thou hast aught here of
price, whether of monkish or worldly value, point
it out, that it may be held safe for thy better leisure.
In return, I ask but the parting words of peace.”

“'Tis forbidden to those who war against God,”
returned the grieved Prior, releasing his robe from
the eager grasp of the Baron.—“I can and will pray
for thee, Emich; but to bless thee were treachery
to Heaven!”

So saying, the pious Arnolph buried his face in
his dress, to shut out the view of the profanation
that was working around him, and withdrew slowly
from the choir.

CHAPTER VIII.

Avaunt!
Incarnate Lucifer! 'tis holy ground:
A martyr's ashes now lie there, which make it
A shrine—
Byron.

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

During the foregoing scene, the Benedictine,
already known to the reader as Father Johan, had
awaited its issue with a species of lofty patience on
the steps of the altar. But in a character so exaggerated,
there remained little that was purely
natural; even the forbearance of the Monk partook
of the forced and fervid qualities of his mind. Conventual
discipline, deep and involuntary respect for
the Prior, and that very disdain which he felt for
all gentle means of recalling a sinner to the fold,
kept him tolerably tranquil, while Emich and his
spiritual superior held their parley; but there was a
gleam of wild delight in his eye, when he found, of
all that powerful and boasted fraternity, that he
alone remained to defend the altars. The feeling
of the moment in such a breast, notwithstanding
the scene of tumult that rather increased than diminished
in the church, was that of triumph. He
exulted in his own constancy, and he anticipated the
effects which were to follow from his firmness, with
the self-complacency of a prurient confidence, and
with the settled conviction of an enthusiast.

Emich took little heed of his presence, during
the first moments that succeeded the departure of
the Prior. There is a majesty, and a quiet energy,
in truth and sound principles, that happily form
their constant buttresses. Without this wise provision
of Providence, the world would be hopelessly
abandoned to the machinations of those who consider
all means lawful, provided the ends tend to

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

their own success. All near the Abbey of Limburg
had felt the influence of these high qualities in
Father Arnolph, and it is more than probable that,
as in the case of the city of Canaan, had the community
contained four of his spiritual peers the
Abbey would not have fallen.

The Count, in particular, who, like all that first
break from mental servitude, was so often troubled
with strong doubts, had long entertained a deep
respect for this monk; and it is not improbable, that
had the pious Arnolph fully understood his own
power, by an earlier and more vigilant use of his
means, he might have found a way to avert the
blow that had now alighted on Limburg. But the
meekness and modesty of the Prior were qualities
as strongly marked as his more active virtues, and
the policy of Limburg was not of a character to
rely on either for its security.

“There is good in that brother,” said Emich to
Berchthold, when his thoughtful eye again rose to
the face of the young Forester.—“Had he been
mitred, instead of Bonifacius, our rights might have
still suffered.”

“Few are more beloved than Father Arnolph,
Herr Count, and none so deserve to be.”

“Thou art of this mind! How now, Master
Heinrich! art in monkish meditation in thy stall, or
dost dispose of the lesson of the virtuous Ulrike,
more at thy ease, in a seat where so much substantial
carnal aliment hath been digested by godly
Benedictines! Come to the front, like a stout soldier,
and give us the savor of thy good wisdom in this
strait.”

“Methinks, our work is well-nigh done, Lord Emich,”
answered Heinrich, complying with the request;
“my faithful townsmen are not idle in the chapels
and among the tombs, and the sledge of yon smith
dealeth with an angel an' it were a bar of molten

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

iron. Each stroke leaves a mark that no chisel will
repair!”

“Let the knaves amuse themselves; every blow
is quickened by the recollection of some hard penance.
Thou seest that they place the confessionals
in a pile ready for the torch! This is attacking the
enemy in his citadel. But Heinrich, is the excellent
Ulrike wont to come forth with thee in thy frays
against the church? God's judgments! Were Ermengarde
of this humor, we should have no hope of
salvation in our castle!”

“You do my wife injustice, Herr Count; Ulrike
was here to pray, and not to encourage.”

“Thou mightest have spared the explanation, for
truly such encouragement never did soldier need!
Wert privy to the visit,—ha!—wert privy, worthy
Burgomaster?”

“To speak you honestly, Herr Emich, I thought
the woman otherwise bestowed.”

“By the Magi!—in her bed?”

“Nay, at her prayers, but in a different place.
But we do her too much honor, noble Emich, to let
the movements of a mere housewife occupy our
high thoughts in this busy moment.”

“Nothing that touches thee is of light concern
with thy friends, good Burgomaster,” answered the
Baron, who pondered with instinctive uneasiness,
even in that moment of tumult, on this visit of
Ulrike to the Benedictines, at an hour so unusual.

“Thou art well wived, Herr Heinrich, and all
that know thy consort do her honor!”

The Burgomaster was a man by far too well satisfied
with his own superior merits to harbor jealousy.
Self-complacency might have been at the
bottom of his security, though it were scarce possible
for one even much more addicted by nature to
that tormenting passion, to have lived so long in
perfect familiarity with the pure mind of Ulrike,

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

without feeling reverence for its principles and virtue.
The sentiments of the Baron were very different;
for though in his heart equally convinced of the
character of her to whom he alluded, he could not
altogether exclude the suspicions of a man of loose
habits, nor the uneasiness of one who had himself
been discarded. The answer of the husband, however,
served to turn the discourse, by giving the Burgomaster
an opportunity of placing himself in the
most prominent relief.

“A thousand thanks, illustrious Herr,” he said,
raising his cap; “the woman is not amiss, though
much troubled with infirmity on the score of altars
and penances. When we shall have fairly disposed
of Limburg, another reign will commence among
our wives and daughters, and we can hope for more
quiet Sabbaths. As to this grace of your present
speech, Lord Count, I take it, as it was no doubt
meant, to be another pledge of our lasting amity
and close alliance.”

“Thou talkest well,” quickly answered Emich,
losing the passing feeling of distrust in the recollection
of his present purpose; “no words of friendship
are lost, on a true and sworn supporter. Well,
Heinrich, is our affair finally achieved?”

“Sapperment! Herr Count, if not finished, it is
in a fair way to be so quickly.”

“Here remaineth a Benedictine!' said Berchthold,
drawing their attention to the Monk, who still maintained
his post on the steps of the altar.

“The bees do not relish quitting their hive, while
any of the hard earnings are left,” said the Count,
laughing; “what wouldst thou, Father Johan?—if
thy careful mind hath had thought of the precious
vessels, make thy choice and depart.”

The Benedictine returned the laugh of the noble,
with a smile of deep but quiet exultation.

“Assemble thy followers, rude Baron,” he said;

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

“call all within thy control to this sanctified spot,
for there yet remaineth a power to be overcome of
which thou hast not taken heed; at the moment
when thou fanciest thyself most secure, art thou
nearest to disgrace and to destruction.”

As the excited Monk suited his words by a corresponding
energy of emphasis and tone, Emich
recoiled a step, like one who distrusted a secret
mine. The desperate character of Father Johan's
enthusiasm was well known, and neither of the
three listeners was without apprehension, that the
fraternity, aware of the invasion, had plotted some
deep design of vengeance, which this exaggerated
brother had been deputed to execute.

“Ho! without there!” cried the Count—“Let a
party descend quickly to the crypt, and look to the
villanies of these pretended saints; cousin of Viederbach,”
revealing in the eagerness of the moment
the presence of this sworn soldier of the Cross, “see
thou to our safety, for the Rhodian warfare hath
made thee familiar with these treacheries.”

The call of the Count, which was uttered like a
battle cry, stayed the hands of the destroyers.
Some rushed to obey the order, while most of the
others gathered hastily into the choir. It is certain
that the presence of fellow-sufferers diminishes the
force of fear, even though it may in truth increase
the danger; for such is the constitution of our minds,
that they willingly admit the influence of sympathy,
whether it be in pain or pleasure. When Emich
found himself backed by so many of his band, he
thought less of the apprehended mine, and he turned
to question the Monk, with more of the calmness
that became his condition.

“Thou wouldst have the followers of Hartenburg,
Father,” he said, ironically, “and thou seest
how readily they come!”

“I would that all who have listened to schismatics

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

—all who refuse honor to the holy Church—all who
deny Rome—and all that believe themselves on
earth freed from the agency of Heaven, now stood
before me!” answered the Benedictine, examining
the group of heads that clustered among the stalls,
with the bright but steady eye of one engrossed
with the consciousness of his force. “Thou art in
hundreds, Count Leiningen—would it were God's
pleasure that it had been in millions!”

“We are of sufficient strength for our object,
Monk.”

“That remaineth to be seen. Now, listen to a
voice from above!—I speak to you, unhallowed
ministers of the will of this ambitious Baron—to
you, misguided and ignorant tools of a scheme
that hath been plotted of evil, and hath been brought
forth from the prolific brain of the restless Father
of Sin. Ye have come at the heels of your lord,
vainly rejoicing in a visible but impotent power—
impiously craving the profits of your unholy enterprise,
and forgetting God!”—

“By the mass, priest!” interrupted Emich; “thou
hast once already given us a sermon to day, and
time presseth. If thou hast an enemy to present,
bring him forth; but we tire of these churchly
offices.”

“Thou hast had thy moment of wanton will,
abandoned Emich, and now cometh the judgment—
seest thou this box of precious relics!—dost thou
forget that Limburg is rich in these holy remains,
and that their virtues are yet untried?—Woe to
him who scoffeth at their character, and despiseth
their power!”

“Stay thy hand, Johan!” cried the Count hastily,
when he saw that the Monk was about to expose
some of those well-known vestiges of mortality to
which the Church of Rome then, as now, attributed

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

miraculous interventions; “this is no moment for
fooleries!”

“Callest thou this sacred office by so profane a
name!—abide the issue, foul-mouthed asperser of
our holy authority, and triumph if thou canst!”

The Count was much disturbed, for his reason
had far less influence now in supporting him than
his ambition. The party in the rear, too, began to
waver, for opinion was not then sufficiently confirmed
to render the mass indifferent to such an exposure
of clerical power. Whatever may be the
difference that exists between Christian sects concerning
the validity of modern miracles, all will
allow, that, when trained in the belief of their reality,
the mind is less prepared to resist their influence
than that of any other engine by which it can be
assailed, since it is placing the impotency of man
in direct and obvious collision with the power of
the Deity. Before such an exhibition of force, nature
offers no means of resistance; and the mysterious
and unseen agency by which the wonder is
produced, enlists in its interest both the imagination
and that innate dread of omnipotence which all possess.

“'Twere well this matter went no farther!” said
Emich, uneasily whispering his principal agents.

“Nay, my Lord Count,” answered Berchthold,
calmly, “it may be good to know the right of the
matter. If we are not of Heaven's side in this affair,
let it be shown in our own behalf; and if the
Benedictines are no better than pretenders, our consciences
will be all the easier.”

“Thou art presuming, boy—none know the end
of this!—Herr Heinrich, thou art silent?”

“What would you have, noble Emich, of a poor
Burgomaster? I will own, I think it were more for
the advantage of Deurckheim that the matter went
no farther.”

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

“Thou hearest, Benedictine!” said the Count,
laying the point of his sheathed sword on the richly
chased and much reverenced box that the Monk had
already unlocked,—“this must stop here!”

“Take away the weapon, Emich of Leiningen,'
said father Johan, with dignity.

The Count obeyed, though he scarce knew why

“This is a fearful instant for the unbeliever,” continued
the Monk; “the moment is near when our
altars shall be avenged—nay, recoil not, bold Baron—
remain to the end, ye dissolute and forsaken followers
of the wicked, for in vain ye hope to flee
the judgment.”

There was so much of tranquil enthusiasm in the
air and faith of Father Johan, that, spite of a general
wish to be at a distance from the relics, curiosity,
and the inherent principle of religious awe, held each
man spell-bound; though every heart beat quicker
as the Monk proceeded, calmly, and with a reverential
mien, to expose the bones of saints, the remnants
of mantles, the reputed nails of the true cross, and
morsels of its wood, with divers other similar memorials
of holy events, and of sainted martyrs. Not
a foot had power to retire. When all were laid, in
solemn silence, on the bright and glowing shrine,
Father Johan, crossing himself, again turned to the
crowd.

“What may be Heaven's purpose in this strait, I
know not,” he said; “but withered be the hand, and
for ever accursed the soul, of him who dareth violence
to these holy vestiges of Christian faith!”

Uttering these ominous words, the Benedictine
faced the crucifix, and kneeled in silent prayer. The
minute that followed was one of fearful portent to
the cause of the invaders. Eye sought eye in doubt,
and one regarded the fretted vault, another gazed
intently at the speaking image of Maria, as if each
expected some miraculous manifestation of divine

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

displeasure. The issue would have been doubtful, had
not the cherry-wood trumpet of the cow-herd again
sounded most opportunely in his master's behalf. The
wily knave blew a well-known and popular imitation
of the beasts of his herd, among the arches of the
chapel, striking at the effect of what had just passed
by the interposition of a familiar and vulgar idea
The influence of the ludicrous, at moments when
the passions vacillate, or the reason totters, is too
well known to need elucidation. It is another of
those caprices of humanity that baffle theories, proving
how very far we are removed from being the
exclusively reasoning animal we are fond of thinking
the species.

The expedient of the ready-witted Gottlob produced
its full effect. The most ignorant of the castle
followers, those even whose dull minds had been on
the verge of an abject deference to superstition, took
courage at the daring of the cow-herd; and, as the
least founded in any belief are commonly the most
vociferous in its support, this portion of the band
echoed the interruption from fifty hoarse throats.
Emich felt like a man reprieved; for under the double
influence of his own distrust, and the wavering
of his followers, the Count for a moment had fancied
his long-meditated destruction of the community
of Limburg in great danger of being frustrated.

Encouraged by each other's cries, the invaders
returned to their work laughing at their own alarm.
The chairs and confessionals had been already
heaped in the great aisle, and a brand was thrown
into the pile. Fire was applied to the church wherever
there was food for the element, and some of
the artisans of Deurckheim, better instructed than
their looser associates, found the means to light the
conflagration in such parts of the roofs and the other
superior stories, as would insure the destruction of
the pile. In the mean time, all the exterior edifices

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

had been burning, and the whole hill, to the eye of
him who dwelt in the valley beneath, presented
volumes of red flame, or of lurid smoke.

During the progress of this scene, Emich paced
the choir, partly exulting in his success, and partly
doubting of its personal fruits. Over the temporal
consequences he had well pondered; but the motionless
attitude of Father Johan, the presence of the
long-reverenced relics, and the denunciations of the
Church, still had their terrors for one whose mind
had few well-grounded resources to sustain it. From
this state of uneasiness he was aroused by the noise
of the sledge, at work in the crypt. Followed by
Heinrich and Berchthold, the Count hastened to descend
to this place, which it will be remembered
contained the tombs and the chapel of his race.
Here, as above, all was in bright light, and all was
in confusion. Most of the princely and noble tombs
had already undergone mutilation, and no chapel
had been respected. Before that of Hartenburg,
however, Albrecht of Viederbach stood, with folded
arms and a thoughtful eye. The cloak which, during
the commencement of the attack, had served to
conceal his person, was now neglected, and he
seemed to forget the prudence of disguise, in deep
contemplation.

“We have at length got to the monuments of
our fathers, cousin;” said the Count, joining him.

“To their very bones, noble Emich!”

“The worthy knights have long slept in evil company;
there shall be further rest for them in the
chapel of Hartenburg.”

“I hope it may be found, Herr Graf, that this ad
venture is lawful!”

“How!—dost thou doubt, with the work so near
accomplished?”

“By the mass! a soldier of Rhodes might better
be fighting your turbaned infidel, than awakening

[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]

the nobles of his own house from so long a sleep, at
so short a summons!”

“Thou canst retire into my hold, Herr Albrecht,
if thy arm is wearied,” said Emich, coldly; “not a
malediction can reach thee there.”

“That would be poor requital for a free hospital
ity, cousin; the travelling knight is the ally of the
last friend, even though there be some wrong to
general duties. But we cavaliers of the island well
know, that a retreat, to be honorable, must be orderly,
and not out of season. I am with thee,
Emich, for the hour, and so no more parley. This
was the image of the good Bishop of our line?”

“He had some such reverend office, I do believe;
but speak of him as thou wilt, none can say he was
a Benedictine.”

“It had been better, cousin, since this church is
to be sacked, that our predecessors had found other
consecrated ground for their dust. Well, we sworn
soldiers pass uneven lives! It is now some twelve
months or so, that like a loyal and professed Rhodian,
I stood to my knees in water, making good a
trench against your believer in Houris and your
unbeliever in Christ; and now, forsooth, I am here
as a spectator (none call me more with honesty),
while a Christian altar is overturned, and a brotherhood
of shaven monks are sent adrift upon earth,
like so many disbanded mercenaries!”

“By the Three Kings! my cousin, thou makest
a fit comparison; for like disbanded mercenaries
have they gone forth to prey upon society in a
new shape.—Spare the angel of my grandfather,
good smith,” cried Emich, interrupting himself; “if
there be any virtue in the image, 'tis for the benefit
of our house!”

Dietrich stayed his uplifted arm, and directed the
intended blow at another object. The marble flew
in vast fragments at each collision with his sledge,

[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

and the leaders of the party soon found it necessary
to retire, to avoid the random efforts of the heated
crowd.

There no longer remained a doubt of the fate
of these long-known and much-celebrated conventual
buildings. Tomb fell after tomb, monuments
were defaced, altars were overturned, chapels sacked,
and every object that was in the least likely to resist
the action of fire, received such indelible injuries
as rendered its restoration difficult or impossible.

During the continuance of their efforts, the conflagration
had advanced, as the fierce element that
had been called in to assist the destroyers is known
to do its work. Most of the dormitories, kitchens,
and outer buildings were consumed, so far as the
materials allowed, beyond redress; and it became
apparent that the great church and its dependencies
would soon be untenable.

Emich and his companions were still in the crypt,
when a cry reached them, admonishing all within
hearing to retreat, lest they become victims to the
flames. Berchthold and the smith drove before them
the crowd from the crypt, and there was a general
rush to gain the outer door.

When the interior of the church was clear, the
Count and his followers paused in the court, contemplating
the scene, with curious eyes, like men
satisfied with their work. No sooner was the common
attention directed back towards the spot from
whence they had just escaped, than a general cry,
that partook equally of wonder and horror, broke
from the crowd. As the doors were all thrown wide,
and every cranny of the building was illuminated
by the fierce light of the flames that were raging in
the roofs, the choir was nearly as visible to those
without, as if it stood exposed to the rays of a noon-day
sun. Father Johan was still kneeling before the
altar.

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

In obedience to the commands of Emich, the
sacred shrine had been stript of its precious vessels,
but none had presumed to touch a relic. On these
long-venerated memorials, the Benedictine kept his
eyes riveted, in the firm conviction that, sooner or
later, the power of God would be made manifest in
defence of his violated temple.

“The monk! the monk!” exclaimed fifty eager
voices.

“I would fain save the fanatic!” said Emich, with
great and generous concern.

“He may listen to one who beareth this holy emblem,”
cried the Knight of Rhodes, releasing his
cross from the doublet in which it had been concealed.
“Will any come with me, to the rescue of
this mad Benedictine?”

There was as much of repentant atonement in
the offer of Albrecht of Viederbach, as there was
of humanity. But the impulse which led young
Berchthold forward, was purely generous. Notwithstanding
the imminent peril of the attempt, they
darted together into the building, and passed swiftly
up the choir. The heat was getting to be oppressive,
though the great height of the ceilings still rendered
it tolerable. They approached the altar, advising
the monk of his danger by their cries.

“Do ye come to be witnesses of Heaven's power?”
demanded Father Johan, smiling with the calm of
an inveterate enthusiast; “or do ye come, sorestricken
penitents that ye have done this deed?”

“Away, good father!” hurriedly answered Berchthold;
“Heaven is against the community to-night;
in another minute, yon fiery roof will fall.”

“Hearest thou the blasphemer, Lord? Is it thy
holy will, that”—

“Listen to a sworn soldier of the cross,” interrupted
Albrecht, showing his Rhodian emblem—

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

“we are of one faith, and we will now depart together
for another trial.”

“Away! false servant! and thou, abandoned boy!—
See ye these sainted relics?”—

At a signal from the knight, Berchthold seized the
monk by one side, while Albrecht did the same
thing on the other, and he was yet speaking as they
bore him down the choir. But they struggled with
one that a long-encouraged and morbid view of
life had rendered mad. Before they reached the
great aisle, the fanatic had liberated himself, and,
while his captors were recovering breath, he was
again at the foot of the altar. Instead of kneeling,
however, Father Johan now seized the most venerated
of the relics, which he held on high, audibly
imploring Heaven to hasten the manifestation of its
majesty.

“He is doomed!” said Albrecht of Viederbach,
retiring from the church.

As the Knight of Rhodes rushed through the
great door, a massive brand fell from the ceiling
upon the pavement, scattering its coals like so many
twinkling stars.

“Berchthold! Berchthold!” was shouted from a
hundred throats.

“Come forth, rash boy!” cried Emich, with a
voice in which agony was blended with the roar of
the conflagration.

Berchthold seemed spell-bound. He gazed wistfully
at the monk, and darted back again towards
the altar. An awful crashing above, which resembled
the settling of a mountain of snow about to
descend in an avalanche, grated on the ear. The
very men who, so short a time before, had come
upon the hill ready and prepared to slay, now uttered
groans of horror at witnessing the jeopardy of their
fellow-creatures; for, whatever we may be in moments
of excitement, there are latent sympathies in

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

human nature, which too much use may deaden,
but which nothing but death can finally extinguish.

“Come forth, young Berchthold! come forth, my
gallant forester!” shouted the voice of the Count
above the clamor of the crowd, as if rallying his
followers with a battle-cry. “He will die with the
wretched monk!—The youth is mad!”

Berchthold was struggling with the Benedictine,
though none knew what passed between them. There
was another crash, and the whole pavement began
to glow with fallen brands. Then came a breaking
of rafters, and a scattering of fire that denoted the
end. The interior of the chapel resembled the burning
shower which usually closes a Roman girandola,
and the earth shook with the fall of the massive
structure. There are horrors on which few human
eyes can bear to dwell. At this moment nearly
every hand veiled a face, and every head was averted.
But the movement lasted only an instant. When
the interior was again seen, it appeared a fiery furnace.
The altar still stood, however, and Johan
miraculously kept his post on its steps. Berchthold
had disappeared. The gesticulations of the Benedictine
were wilder than ever, and his countenance
was that of a man whose reason had hopelessly departed.
He kept his feet only for a moment, but
withering fell. After which his body was seen to
curl like a green twig that is seared by the flames.

CHAPTER IX.

Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves.”

[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

The constant moral sentinel that God hath set on
watch in every man's breast, but which acts so differently
in different circumstances, though, perhaps,
in no condition of humiliation and ignorance does it
ever entirely desert its trust, is sure to bring repentance
with the sense of error. It is vain to say that
this innate sentiment of truth, which we call conscience,
is the mere result of opinion and habit, since
it is even more apparent in the guileless and untrained
child than in the most practised man, and
nature has so plainly set her mark upon all its workings,
as to prove its identity with the fearful being
that forms the incorporeal part of our existence.
Like all else that is good, it may be weakened and
perverted, or be otherwise abused; but, like every
thing that comes from the same high source, even
amid these vicious changes, it will retain traces of
its divine author. We look upon this unwearied
monitor as a vestige of that high condition from
which the race fell; and we hold it to be beyond
dispute, that precisely as men feel and admit its influence
do they approach, or recede from, their
original condition of innocence.

The destruction of the Abbey was succeeded by
most of those signs which attend all acts of violence,
in degrees that are proportioned to previous habits.
Even they who had been most active in accomplishing
this long-meditated blow, began to tremble for
its consequences; and few in the Palatinate heard
of the deed, without holding their breaths like men
who expected Heaven would summarily avenge the
sacrilege. But in order that the thread of the

[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

narrative should not be broken, we will return to our
incidents in their proper order, advancing the time
but a few days after the night of the conflagration.

The reader will have to imagine another view of
the Jaegerthal. There was the same smiling sun,
and the same beneficent season; the forest was as
green and waving, the meadows were as smooth and
dark, the hill-sides as bright beneath the play of
light and shade, while the murmuring brook was as
limpid and swift, as when first presented to his eye
in these pages. Not a hut or cottage was disturbed,
either in the hamlets or along the travelled paths,
and the Hold of Hartenburg still frowned in feudal
power and baronial state, on the well-known pass of
the mountains, gloomy, massive, and dark. But the
hill of Limburg presented one of those sad and melancholy
proofs of the effects of violence which are
still scattered over the face of the old world, like so
many admonitory beacons of the scenes through
which its people have reached their present state of
comparative security;—beacons that should be as
useful in communicating lessons for the future, as
they are pregnant with pictures of the past.

The outer wall remained unharmed, with the
single exception of the principal gate, which bore
the indelible marks of the smith's sledges; but above
this barrier the work of devastation appeared in
characters not to be mistaken. Every roof, and
there had been fifty, was fallen; every wall, some
of which were already tottering, was blackened;
and not a tower pointed towards the sky, that did
not show marks of the manner in which the flames
had wreathed around its slender shaft. Here and
there, a small thread of white smoke curled upwards,
losing itself in the currents of the air, resembling
so many of the lessening symptoms of a volcano
after an explosion. A small crucifix, which popular
rumor said was wood, but which, in fact, was

[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]

of painted stone, still kept its place on a gable of
the ruined church; and many a peasant addressed
to it his silent prayers, firm in the belief that God
had protected this image of his sacrifice, throughout
the terrors of the memorable night.

In and about the castle, there appeared the usual
evidences of a distrustful watch;—such ward as is
kept by him who feels that he has justly become obnoxious
to the hand of the constituted powers. The
gates were closed; the sentinels on the walls and
bastions were doubled; and, from time to time, signals
were made that communicated with look-outs, so stationed
on the hills that they could command views
of the roads which led towards the Rhine, beyond
the gorge of the valley.

The scene in Deurckheim was different, though
it also had some points of resemblance with that in
the hold. There was the same apprehension of
danger from without, the same watchfulness on the
walls and in the towers, and the same unusual display
of an armed force. But in a town of this
description, it was not easy to imitate the gloomy
reserve of baronial state. The citizens grouped
together in the streets, the women gossipped as in
all sudden and strong cases of excitement, and even
the children appeared to reflect the uneasiness and
indecision of their parents; for as the hand of authority
relaxed in their seniors, most wandered idly
and vaguely among the men, listening to catch such
loose expressions as might enlighten their growing
understandings. The shops were opened, as usual,
but many stopped to discourse at the doors, while
few entered; and most of the artisans wasted their
time in speculations on the consequence of the hardy
step of their superiors.

In the mean time there was a council held in the
town-hall. Here were assembled all who laid claim
to civic authority in Deurckheim, with some who

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

appeared under the claim of their services in the
late assault upon the monks. A few of the anxious
wives of the burghers, also, were seen collected in
the more public rooms of the building; for domestic
influence was neither covert nor trifling in that uxorious
and simple community. We shall resume the
narrative within the walls of this municipal edifice.

The Burgomaster and other chief men were much
moved, by the vague apprehension which was the
consequence of their hazardous experiment. Some
were bold in the audacity of success; some doubted
merely because the destruction of the brotherhood
seemed too great a good, to come unmixed with
evil; some held their opinions in suspense, waiting
for events to give a value to their predictions, and
others shook their heads in a manner that would
appear to imply a secret knowledge of consequences
that were not apparent to vulgar faculties. The latter
class was more remarkable for its pretension to
exclusive merit than for numbers, and would have
been equally prompt to exaggerate the advantages
of the recent measure, had the public pulse just then
been beating on the access. But the public pulse
was on the decline, and, as we have said, seeing and
understanding all the advantages that were to be
hoped from the defeat of Bonifacius, uncertainty
quickened most imaginations in a manner to conjure
disagreeable pictures of the future. Even Heinrich,
who wanted for neither moral nor physical resolution,
was disturbed at his own victory, though if
questioned he could scarcely have told the reason
why. This uneasiness was heightened by the fact,
that most of his compeers regarded him as the man,
on whom the weight of the Church's and of the
Elector's displeasure was most likely to fall, though
it is more than probable that his situation would have
been far less prominent, had there been no question
of any results but such as were agreeable.

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

This sort of distinction, so isolated in defeat, and
so social in prosperity, is a species of revenge that
society is very apt to take of all who pretend to be
wiser or better than itself, by presuming to point the
way in cases of doubtful expediency, or in presuming
to lead the way in those that require decision
and nerve. He alone is certain of an unenvied
reputation who, in preceding the main body in the
great march of events, leaves no very sensible space
between him and his fellows; while he alone can
hope for impunity, who keeps so near his backers
as to be able to confound himself in the general
mass, when singularity brings comment and censure.

Heinrich fully felt the awkwardness of his position,
and, just then, he would gladly have compounded
for less of the fame acquired by the bold manner in
which he had led the attack, in order to be rid of
some of his anxiety. Still a species of warlike instinct
led him to put the best face on the affair, and
when he addressed his colleagues, it was with cheerfulness
in his tones, however little there might have
been of that desirable feeling in his heart.

“Well, brethren,” he said, looking around at the
knot of well-known faces, which surrounded him in
the gravity of civic authority, “this weighty matter
is, at length, happily, and, as it has been effected
without bloodshed, I may say, peaceably over! The
Benedictines are departed, and though the excellent
Abbot hath taken post in a neighboring abbey, whence
he sends forth brave words to frighten those who are
unused to more dangerous missiles, it will be long
before we shall again hear Limburg bell tolling in
the Jaergerthal.”

“For that I can swear,” said the smith, who was
among the inferiors that crowded a corner of the
hall, occupying as little space as possible, in deference
to their head-men;—“my own sledge hath
helped to put the fine-tuned instrument out of tune!”

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

“We are now met to hear further propositions
from the monks; but as the hour set for the arrival
of their agent is not yet come, we can lighten the
moments by such discourse as the circumstances
may seem to require. Hast any thing to urge that
will ease the minds of the timid, brother Wolfgang,—
if so, of God's name, give it utterance, that we
may know the worst at once.”

The affinity between Wolfgang and Heinrich existed
altogether in their civic relations. The former,
although he coveted the anticipated advantages that
were to result from the downfall of Limburg, had a
constitutional deference for all superior power, and
was unable to enjoy the triumph, without the bitterest
misgivings concerning the displeasure of the
Elector and Rome. He was aged, too,—a fact that
served to heighten the tremor of tones, that, by a
very general convention, are termed raven.

“It is wise to call upon the experienced and wise,
for counsel, in pressing straits,” returned the old
burgher, “for years teach the folly of every thing
human, inclining us to look at the world with moderation,
and with less love for ourselves, and our interests—”

“Brother Wolfgang, thou art not yet yielding so
fast as thou wouldest have us believe,” interrupted
Heinrich, who particularly disliked any discouraging
views of the future. “Thou art but a boy—the
difference between us cannot be greater than some
five-and-twenty years.”

“Not that, not that;—I count but three-and-seventy,
and thou mayest fairly number fifty-and-five.”

“Thou heapest honors on me I little deserve, friend
Wolfgang. I shall not number the days thou namest
these many months, and time marches fast enough
without any fillips from us to help him. If I have
yet seen more than fifty-four, may my fathers arise

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

from their graves to claim the little they left behind,
when they took leave of earth!”

“Words will make neither young, but I could
wish we had found means to lay this unquiet spirit
of Limburg, without so much violence and danger
to ourselves. I am old, and have little interest in
life, except to see those who will come after me
happy and peaceful. Thou knowest that I have
neither chick nor child, neighbor Heinrich, and the
heart of such a man can only beat for all. 'Twere,
indeed, folly in me to think of much else, than of
that great future which lies before us.”

“Sapperment!” exclaimed the smith, who was
disposed to presume a little on the spirit he had
shown in the late attack.—“Worshipful Burgomaster,
were Master Wolfgang to deal out some of his
stores a little freely to the Benedictines, the whole
affair might be quietly settled, and Deurckheim
would be a great gainer. I warrant you now, that
Bonifacius would be glad to receive a well-told sum
in gold, without question or farther account, in lieu
of his lodgings and fare in Limburg, of which he
was only a life-tenant at best. At least, such had
been my humor, an' it had pleased Heaven to have
made me a Benedictine, and Bonifacius a smith.”

“And where is this gold to be had, bold-speaking
artisan?” demanded the aged burgher, severely.

“Where but from your untouched stores, venerable
Wolfgang,” answered the single-minded smith;
“thou art old, father, and, as thou truly sayest, without
offspring; the hold of life is getting loose, and to
deal with thee in frankness, I see no manner in which
the evil may be so readily turned from our town.”

“Peace, senseless talker! dost think thy betters
have no other employment for their goods than to
cast them to the winds, as thy sparks scatter at the
stroke of the sledge? The little I have hath been gained
with sore toil and much saving, and it may yet be

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

needed to keep want and beggary from my door.
Nay, nay, when we are young we think the dirt
may be turned to gold; hot blood and lusty limbs
cause us to believe man equal to any labor, ay, even
to living without food; but when experience and
tribulation have taught us truth, we come to know,
neighbors, the value of pence. I am of a long-living
stock, Heaven help us! and there is greater
likelihood of my yet becoming a charge to the town,
than of my ever doing a tithe of that, this heedless
smith hath hinted.”

“By St. Benedict, master! I hinted naught: what
I said was in plain words, and it is this, that one so
venerable for his years, and so respected for his
means, might do great good in this strait! Such
an act would sweeten the few days thou yet hast.”

“Get thee away, fellow; thou talkest of death an'
it were a joke. Do not the young go to their graves
as well as the old, and are there not instances of
thousands that have outlived their means? No, I
much fear that this matter will not be appeased
without mulcting the artisans in heavy sums;—
but happily, most that belong to the crafts are young
and able to pay!”

The reply of the smith, who was getting warm
in a dispute in which he believed all the merit was
on his own side, was cut short by a movement
among the populace, who crowded the outer door
of the town-house; the burghers seemed uneasy, as
if they saw a crisis was near, and then a beadle
announced the arrival of a messenger from the
routed community of Limburg. The civic authorities
of Deurckheim, although assembled expressly
with the expectation of such a visit, were,
like all men of but indifferently regulated minds,
taken by surprise at the moment. Nothing was digested,
no plan of operations had been proposed,
and, although all had dreamed for several nights of

[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

the very subject before them, not one of them all
had thought upon it. Still it was now necessary to
act, and after a little bustle, which had no other object
than an idle attempt to impose upon the senses
of the messenger, by a senseless parade, orders
were given that the latter should be admitted.

The agent of the monks was himself a Benedictine.
He entered the hall, attended only by the
city-guard who had received him at the gate, with
his cowl so far drawn upon his head as to conceal
the features. There was a moment of curiosity,
and the name of “Father Siegfried” was whispered
from one to another, as each judged of the man by
the exterior.

“Uncover, of Heaven's mercy! Father,” said
Heinrich, “and seat thyself as freely in the townhall
of Deurckheim, as if thou wert at thine ease in
the ancient cloisters of Limburg. We are lions
in the attack, but harmless as thy marble cherubs,
when there is not occasion for your true manly qualities;
so take thy seat, of God's name! and be of good
cheer;—none will harm thee.”

The voice of the Burgomaster lost its confidence
as he concluded. The Benedictine was calmly removing
the cowl; and when the cloth fell, it exposed
the respected features of Father Arnolph.

“He that comes in the service of him I call master,
needeth not this assurance,” answered the monk;
“still I rejoice to find ye in this mood, and not bent
on maintaining an original error, by further out-rages.
It is never too late to see our faults, nor yet
to repair them.”

“I cry thy mercy, Holy Prior! we had taken
thee for a very different member of the fraternity,
and thou art not the less welcome for being him
thou art.”

Heinrich arose respectfully, and his example was
followed by all present. The Prior seemed pleased,

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

and a glow, like that which a benevolent hope creates,
passed athwart his countenance. With perfect
simplicity he took the offered stool, as the least
obtrusive manner of inducing the burghers to resume
their seats. The experiment produced the
effect he intended.

“I should pretend to an indifference I do not feel,
were I to say, Heinrich Frey, that I come among
you, men to whom I have often administered the
rites of the church during long and watchful years,
without the wish to find that my ministrations are
remembered.”

“If there dwelleth knave in Deurckheim whose
heart hath not been touched by thy good works,
Father, the hound is without bowels, and unfit to
live among honest people.”

“Most true!” exclaimed the smith, in his audible
by-play. “The Burgomaster doth us all justice! I
never struck spark from iron, more freely than I will
render respect to the most reverend Prior. His
prayers are like tried steel, and next to those of him
of the hermitage are in most esteem among us.
Fill me an abbey with such men, and for one, I
shall be ready to trust all our salvation to their
godliness, without thought or concern for ourselves.
Sapperment! could such a community be found, it
would be a great relief to the laymen, and more
particularly to your artisan, who might turn all
his thoughts to his craft, with the certainty of being
watched by men capable of setting the quickest-witted
devil at defiance!”

Arnolph listened to this digression with patience,
and he acknowledged the courtesy and friendliness
of his reception, by a slow inclination of the head.
He was too much accustomed to hear these temporal
applications of the spiritual interests of which
he was a minister, to be surprised at any thing; and
he was too meek on the subject of his own

[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

deserving, to despise any because they were weaker than
himself. The Christian religion seems to be divided
into two great classes of worshippers; those who
think its consolations are most palpable in their
direct and worldly form, and those whose aspirations
are so spiritualized, and whose thoughts are
so sublimated, as to consider it a metaphysical theory,
in which the principal object is to preserve the
logical harmony. For ourselves, we believe it to
be a dispensation from God, to those of his creatures
who are fearfully composed of the material and
immaterial, and that so far as it is connected with
our probation here, it is never to be considered as
entirely distinct from one or the other of the great
attributes of our nature. It is evident that such
were not the views of the honest smith; and it is
probable, had the matter been thoroughly sifted, it
would have been found that, as respects Deurckheim,
he was altogether of the popular party.

“Thou comest, Father, like the dove to the ark,
the bearer of the olive-branch,” resumed Heinrich;
“though for our northern regions a leaf of the oak
would more likely have been the emblem, had Ararat
been one of these well-wooded hills of ours.”

“I come to offer the conditions of our brotherhood,
and to endeavor to persuade the misguided in
Deurckheim to accept them. The holy abbots, with
the right reverend fathers in God, the Bishops of
Spires and Worms, now assembled in the latter city,
have permitted me to be the bearer of their terms,
an office I have sought, lest another should forget
to entreat and influence, in the desire to menace.”

“Gott bewahre! thou hast done well, as is thy
wont, excellent Arnolph! Threats are about as useful
with Deurckheim, as the holy water is in our
rhenish, both being well enough in their places; but
he that cannot be driven must be led, and liquor
that is right good in itself needeth no flavor from

[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

the church. As for this old misunderstanding between
Limburg of the one side, and the noble
Count of Hartenburg with our unworthy town of
the other, the matter may be said to be now of
easy adjustment, since the late events have cleared
it of its greatest difficulty; and so, from my heart,
I wish thee joy of thy mission, and felicitate the
town that it hath to treat with one so skilful and so
reasonable. Thou wilt find us in a friendly humor,
and ready to meet thee half-way; for I know not
the man in Deurckheim that desireth to push the
controversy a foot further, or who is not at heart
content.”

“No, that would be out of reason and charity,”
said the smith, speaking again among the auditors,
“We ought to show these Benedictines an example
of moderation, neighbors; and therefore for
one, though no better than a poor artisan that gaineth
his bread by blows on the anvil, do I agree with
the worshipful Heinrich, and say, of God's name!
let us be reasonable in our demands, and be content
with as little as may be, in the settlement of our
dispute.”

The Prior listened patiently, as usual, but a hectic
glowed, for an instant, on his cheek. It disappeared,
and the benevolent blue eye was again seen shining
amid features that the cloister and the closet had
long since robbed of all other bloom. “Ye know,
burghers of Deurckheim,” he answered, “that in
assailing the altars of Limburg ye set a double
power at defiance;—that of the Church, as it is
constituted and protected on earth, and that of God.
My errand, at this moment, is to speak of the first.
Our Father of Worms is sorely angered, and he
has not failed to address himself directly and promptly
to our Father at Rome. In addition to this reverend
appeal, messengers have been dispatched to
both the Elector and Emperor, as well as to divers

[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

of the Ecclesiastical Princes who rule on the banks
of the Rhine. This is a fearful array of power to be
met by a mountain baron, and a city whose walls
can be measured by the leg in so short a time.
But chiefly would I lay stress on the evil that may
flow from the displeasure of the Head of the Church.”

“And should he read the late exploit with severity,
reverend Prior, what are we to look to, as its fruits?”

“To be denounced as excluded from the fold,
and to be left to the wickedness and folly of your
own hearts. In a word, excommunication.”

“Umph!—this might prove a short way of recruiting
the followers of Brother Luther! thou knowest,
holy Arnolph, that men look more and more
closely, every day, into these disputed points.”

“Would that they looked with more humility and
understanding! If ye consider the denunciations
and benedictions of him to whom has been confided
the authority to bless and to curse, as of little weight,
no words of mine can heighten their effect; but all
among ye who are not prepared to go the length
that your Burgomaster hath just hinted, may deem
it prudent to pause, ere they incur the heavy risk of
living under such a weight of Heaven's displeasure.”

The burghers regarded each other in doubt, few
among them being yet prepared to push resistance
so far. Some inwardly trembled, for habit and
tradition were too strong for the new opinions;
some shrewdly weighed the temporal rather than
the spiritual consequences, and others ruminated on
the possibility of enduring the anathema in so good
company. There are thousands that are willing to
encounter danger in large bodies, who shrink from
its hazards alone; and perhaps the soldier goes to
the charge quite as much stimulated by the sympathy
of association, as he is sustained by the dread
of shame or the desire of renown. The civic counsellors
of Deurckheim now found themselves in

[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

some such plight, and each man felt assurance or
doubt, much as he happened to meet with either of
those feelings expressed in the eyes of his neighbor.

“Have ye any less godly proposition to make?”
asked Heinrich, who perceived that the moral part
of his civic support began to waver, “for these are
points in which we are better skilled, than on those
that touch your doctrinal niceties.”

“I am commanded to say, that, as becomes their
divine office, the brotherhood of Limburg is disposed
to pardon and forget, inasmuch as duty will
allow, the late act of Deurckheim, on conditions
that may be named.”

“Ay, this is christian-like, and will meet with a
ready return, in our dispositions. On our side, too,
holy Prior, there is every wish to forget the past,
and to look only to a quiet and friendly future—
do I interpret the intentions of the town well, my
neighbors?”

“To the letter!—no clerk could do it better.”—
“Yes, we are of the community's mind; it is wise
to live at peace, and to pardon and overlook;” were
ready answers to this appeal.

“Thou hearest, father! a better mood no minister
or messenger need wish! 'Fore Heaven! we are
all of one mind in this particular; and I know not
that the man would find safety in Deurckheim, who
should talk of aught but peace!”

“It is to be mourned, that ye have not always
been of this humor; I come not, however, to reproach,
but to reclaim; not to defy, but to persuade;
not to intimidate, but to convince. Here are the
written propositions of the holy divines by whom I
am charged with this office of mediator, and I leave
it for a time to your private consultations. When
ye shall have well digested this fit offer, I will come
among ye in peace and friendliness.”

The written proposals were received, and the

[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]

whole assembly rose to do the Prior honor. As the
latter left the hall, he asked permission of several
of the burghers, among whom was Heinrich Frey,
to visit their families, in the spirit of Christian guardianship.
The desired consents were obtained without
demur or doubt, on the part of any; for whatever
may be said or thought of the errors of public
opinion, it is usually right where the means are
possessed of at all giving it a true direction. The
high estimation in which Arnolph was held, by the
mere force of popular instinct, was never more
plainly seen than on the present occasion, when
even those who had so lately warred against the
community, threw open their doors without reserve;
though it was well known, that the late policy of the
town had many a secret enemy, and many a bitter
commentator, in that sex which is sometimes as
slow to incite to violence and resistance, as at others
it is thoughtless and hasty.