“On June 27th the Wittenberg disputants entered Leipzig. Carlstadt was in the first wagon, Luther in the second with his new friend and protégé, young Professor Philip Melanchthon, whom, they say, is the greatest classical scholar of Germany. The learned travellers seemed dusty and shaken, thanks to the springless, open wagons. As escort marched some two hundred fantastically arrayed Wittenberg students, all carrying pikes, come to win fair play for their university champions. A mandate of the local bishop was posted on the church doors, forbidding the whole debate, but no one heeded it. Bishops do well to walk warily in Germany just now. “The disputation did not actually begin until the 27th, the interval being consumed in much preliminary wrangling over details. Officialdom in Leipzig was only coldly courteous to Dr. Luther, for the place had been too long a ‘Dominican town.’ Merely a few ‘Nicodemuses’ called on him in the evenings, while the university professors gave great feasts, with plenty of Torgau beer, for Eck, his opponent: but everywhere men’s tongues went buzzing, morning, noon, and night. I am told that several learned ‘doctors’ lodging together even fell into such violent disputes that their good host was fain to station a police sergeant at the head of the table, with a halberd, to ensure peace during the meals. “Distinguished guests, too, entered the city: Duke Barnim of Pomerania, then Rector Magnificus of Wittenberg University, also the young Prince George of Anhalt, and a privy councillor to Elector Frederick. The night before the disputation I found myself in a cool, dungerous, underground wine-room on the Grimmaische-Strasse, known as Auerbach’s Keller. The wine was excellent. The crowd of tippling students and well-to-do burghers varied and interesting. I was sitting a little alone, meditating over my beaker, when I saw at the long black table before me a capped and gowned doctor I knew by description must be Magister Eck, Luther’s adversary; and I was curious to observe this self-appointed champion of the Vatican. I believe it was not mere partiality that prevents me from praising him highly. He is a tall, broad-shouldered fellow; his voice strong, even strident, and with a southern brogue that betrays his Suabian birth. I can best describe his face by saying he seemed to possess the mouth, eyes, and cheeks of a butcher rather than of a divine; nevertheless I easily gathered he was of no mean acuteness and learning, and the event proved that he was not an unworthy champion in the lists against Dr. Martin. “Before one or two Dominican companions Eck was delivering himself as to the approaching debate. Perhaps the good cheer had loosened his tongue a little. At least his opinions were not cautious.