AT THE DIET.

Charles hurried to convene his council, saying, "Luther is come; what
shall we do with him?"

A chancellor and bishop of Flanders urged that he be despatched at
once, and this scandalous humiliation of the Holy See terminated. He
said Sigismund had allowed Huss to be burned, and no one was bound to
keep faith with a heretic. But the emperor was more moral than the
teachings of his Church, and said, "Not so; we have given our promise,
and we ought to keep it."

On the morrow Luther was conducted to the Diet by the marshal of the
empire. The excited people so crowded the gates and jammed about the
doors that the soldiers had to use their halberds to open a way for
him. An instinct not yet interpreted drew their hearts and allied them
with the hero. From the thronged streets, windows, and housetops came
voices as he passed--voices of petition and encouragement--voices of
benediction on the brave and true--voices of sympathy and adjuration
to be firm in God and in the power of his might. It was Germany,
Scandinavia, England, Scotland, and Holland; it was the Americas and
hundreds of young republics yet unborn; it was the whole world of all
after-time, with its free Gospel, free conscience, free speech, free
government, free science, and free schools,--uttering themselves in
those half-smothered voices. Luther heard them and was strengthened.

But there was no danger he would betray the momentous trust. That
morning, amid great rugged prayers which broke from him like massive
rock-fragments hot and burning from a volcano of mingled faith and
agony, laying one hand on the open Bible and lifting the other to
heaven, he cast his soul on Omnipotence, in pledge unspeakable to obey
only his conscience and his God. Whether for life or death, his heart
was fixed.

A few steps more and he stood before Imperial majesty, encompassed by
the powers and dignitaries of the earth, so brave, calm, and true a
man that thrones and kings looked on in silent awe and admiration, and
even malignant scorn for the moment retreated into darkness. Since He
who wore the crown of thorns stood before Pontius Pilate there had not
been a parallel to this scene.[13]

FOOTNOTES:

[13] A Romanist thus describes the picture: "When the approach of
Luther was heard there ensued one of those deep silences in which the
heart alone, by its hurried pulsations, gives sign of life. Attention
was diverted from the emperor to the monk. On the app