made the scene mirthful; and disgrace had converted their feelings into a barren waste. Feasting was at an end, and wassail was known no more in Stahleck. A dark cloud hung over its noble chief, and obscured the hearts of all his dependants.

The pfalzgraf passed a few days in his chamber unseen by any one; he then came forth with a calm, clear brow, and ascended the highest turret of the castle. Resolution was in his eye; on his stern countenance sat determination. He gazed long and wistfully on the fair prospect before him; he looked at the broad, bright river, bounding onwards in its course, full of beauty in its birth-full of glory in its maturity—and he likened it to his own fate.

"It will finish in a swamp, thought he; 66 and I, how shall be my end? Oh, far more inglorious! I shall die with the brand of disgrace on my name:-yes, that is the only thing I shall transmit to posterity which will not be forgotten."

He sighed deeply as he spoke; and then gazed again as though his eyes would drink in every feature in the landscape. It was as if a man should look on the open grave of a friend: that look was his last. He descended to the principal hall, and summoned all his retainers around him. A sad and silent group they formed, as he stood on the dais of that spacious chamber, and thus addressed them, solemnly and slowly.

66 My friends, he spoke, "here are my treasures of gold and of silver. I bestow them all on you, as a requital of your faithful services to me and to my house-may they make you happy.

"

Sobs and tears-ay, tears from the eyes of the grim soldiers and bearded men who surrounded him-were the only thanks offered for these rich gifts.

་

"I leave you," continued he, his voice almost suffocated with sighs; "I leave you for ever." "Oh, no! no! no!" cried the weeping warriors; "leave us not; what shall we do without you?" "I leave you for ever," he went on; apparently unheeding this wild burst of natural sorrow so lost he seemed in his own thoughts. "I leave you the friends of my youth-the sharers in my dangers. I leave the home of my fathers-the home where I was born;-for dishonour has set its mark on me; and where I live, there do disgrace and degradation dwell also. I go to the depths of the solitary woods; where never more shall I mix in the affairs of this world; to pass the remainder of this life in penitential preparation for the next.

His followers would fain have spoken in dissuasion of this resolution; but he waved. his hand majestically, and said

"Nay, never say a word on it; my resolve has been somewhile taken. God keep you. Farewell. "

They then separated, sorrowing, and with heavy hearts. His followers soon found a new master; but never a one that they loved so well as they did Hermann von Stahleck. He sought a refuge in the Hartz forest; and there, in the guise of a pious hermit, ended his days, it is to be hoped, in peace. His titles died with bim, as he left no direct descendants.

Arnold von Seelenhofen, archbishop of Mentz,

his great enemy, finished his troubled career in a much more fearful manner. Every day the hate of bis subjects had increased; but it became considerably aggravated by his disgrace before the emperor and the Germanic diet. At this juncture he found, or fancied, a necessity for a journey to Rome; and to that effect he imposed an additional tax on the citizens of Mentz, which was levied under circumstances of peculiar harshness and atrocity. His ancient enemies, among whom were some of the neighbouring nobility, availed themselves of this opportunity; a conspiracy was at once formed; and every thing was speedily organised to carry it into effect. A tumultuous mob, excited by their leaders, hastened to the ecclesiastical palace and set it on fire; they then proceeded to plunder and burn the houses of all the clergy known as abettors and supporters of the archbishop; the rich treasure of the see, which was secured it the cathedral, was also seized by them, and appropriated to their own lawless purposes. This tumult was only appeased by the interposition of the emperor; who marched from Worms at the head of a powerful force; instated Arnold in his dignity; and compelled, at his solicitation, the richer citizens to make good the loss which had been sustained by the church, the clergy, and himself. The humane Barbarossa could not, however, be persuaded to punish the rioters further; though the archbishop repeatedly urged him to greater severity towards them. heads of the conspiracy alone were banished: all the rest were spared.

But the storm only slept

- ге

The

it was not over.

No sooner had the imperial forces vacated the

city, than a fresh conspiracy was set on foot: the ringleaders of the former returned from banishment; and a fierce mob was once more organised, ready for every outrage. Arnold was not altogether ignorant of these proceedings; but, with an infatuation which it is difficult to account for, he remained inactive,-nay, he affected to despise their efforts.

"Turn ye to the Lord," wrote the celebrated prophetess Hildegard, abbess of Rupertsberg to him, in a letter yet extant; "leave the paths of the wicked; for the end of your days is at hand."

The answer of Arnold (also preserved) is characteristic at once of his firmness and his folly. He thus replied to the pious nun's really prophetic warnings:

"The people of Mentz are dogs; they bark, but don't bite. I fear them not; for I despise them."

To which the prophetess promptly rejoined in another missive, the last he ever received from her

"Yea, they are chained dogs now: but, beware -they will break their chains yet and tear you to pieces, or you heed not."

Thus ended this strange correspondence.

Arnold, however, took up his abode soon after in a distant part of his archbishopric; and for a long while subsequent to the outbreak which has been just narrated, he never ventured his person within the walls of Mentz. But, overruled by his pride, and, perhaps, prompted by the secret agents of his enemies, he determined once more to make a triumphal entry into that city. Accompanied by a pompous crowd of useless follow

ers,

he approached it in state; and, to give sufficient time for preparation, took up his residence for the night in the monastery of St. Jacobsberg, then without the city walls. It was his last night on this earth. The abbot, whom he believed to be one of the trustiest of his friends, was, in reality, his bitterest foe, and a moving power at the bottom of every conspiracy that had ever existed against him; and, accordingly, the fullest information of his strength, and of all his proceedings, was at once depatched to the conspirators. The order was quickly given to their followers to assemble at various points of the city when night fell, and to be prepared with arms and munitions of war for the assault of the abbey, and the destruction of the archbiship. Thousands were at their respective posts at the hour appointed; the principal citizens of Mentz were among the number; and also many of the neighbouring knights and nobles. They marched silently to their destination; and drew up around it in such close order that no one could escape. The attack then commenced; they assailed the edifice at all quarters; and every accessible point was stormed by sanguinary crowds thirsting for the blood of their foe. The noise, the tumult, the confusion of the fray-the whizzing of arrows-the hissing of fire-brands-the clash of arms and armour, aroused the archbishop from a troubled sleep. He saw, at once, his danger; and he essayed to escape but there was no outlet through which even a mouse could pass unnoticed. The great gates of the abbey were quickly forced: every cell was filled with the infuriated populace. He