Begging friar and peasant’s son, no doubt, but judged by what a court! The room used for Luther’s first hearing had proved too small; the largest hall in the palace had been taken. Even this was packed to the great impairment of imperial dignity. From high windows the light of the afternoon sun was streaming in long golden panels over an august array of ducal caps and electoral “hats of presence.” At one end of the hall, upon a purple-covered dais, and under a like colored canopy, sat a young man with pale and somewhat vacant countenance, clothed all in black save for a wide collar of white lace, while on his head perched a wide black hat. This was Charles V, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, King of Spain and of Naples, Archduke of Austria, Prince of the Netherlands, Dominator of the golden Indies of the Western Seas,--the greatest monarch since Charlemagne. At his left side, on a lower chair, was Prince Ferdinand, his brother, destined soon to share in many of his thrones. On his right side was a vacant seat, reserved for either one of the Monsignori, the two Papal Legates; but they both were absent, utterly outraged at the mere thought of seeming to parley with a convicted heretic. To right and to left, on close-set benches, the greater princes to the front, were the Electors, Landgrafs, and Dukes of the Empire, by the score; and among them sprinkled the lordly mitres of the prince-bishops whose temporal power made them mighty potentates. As I ran my eye over the array one and another familiar face flashed before me: here was the handsome, sensual countenance of Albert of Mainz, the first patron of Tetzel; here was the hard and cynical face of his kinsman Joachim of Brandenburg, most venal and profligate of all the Electors; and on the rear benches was many a prince temporal or prince spiritual whom I knew wished Luther every ill. But I saw not enemies only. From the lords of Brunswick, Pomerania, Mecklenburg, Hesse, Lüneburg, there came friendly smiles; and on the Electors’ bench, closest to the dais, sat the man whose rugged bearded countenance lit up as my master entered--Frederick the Wise of Saxony, the prince of the pure heart, who had been Luther’s best friend, despite the fact that these days in Worms were the only times he saw him.