n too. Under
such conditions, is it any wonder that Muenster became a city of the
mad, mad beyond the sane man's wildest dreams of excess?

A few of the least demented of Jan's followers at length determined
that the tragedy must cease, and the city was delivered into
the bishop's hands. "What judgment," writes Professor Pearson,
"his grace the bishop thinks fit to pass on the leaders of Sion at
least deserves record. Rottmann has fallen by St. Martin's Church,
fighting sword in hand, but Jan of Leyden and Knipperdollinch are
brought prisoners before this shepherd of the folk. Scoffingly he
asks Jan: 'Art thou a king?' Simple, yet endlessly deep the reply:
'Art thou a bishop?' Both alike false to their callings--as father of
men and shepherd of souls. Yet the one cold, self-seeking sceptic,
the other ignorant, passionate, fanatic idealist. 'Why hast thou
destroyed the town and _my_ folk?' 'Priest, I have not destroyed one
little maid of _thine_. Thou hast again thy town, and I can repay
thee a hundredfold.' The bishop demands with much curiosity how this
miserable captive can possibly repay him. 'I know we must die, and
die terribly, yet before we die, shut us up in an iron cage, and send
us round through the land, charge the curious folk a few pence to see
us, and thou wilt soon gather together all thy heart's desire.' The
jest is grim, but the king of Sion has the advantage of his grace
the bishop. Then follows torture, but there is little to extract,
for the king still holds himself an instrument sent by God--though
it were for the punishment of the world. Sentence is read on these
men--placed in an iron cage they shall be shown round the bishop's
diocese, a terrible warning to his subjects, and then brought back
to Muenster; there with glowing pincers their flesh shall be torn
from the bones, till the death-stroke be given with red-hot dagger
in throat and heart. For the rest let the mangled remains be placed
in iron cages swung from the tower of St. Lambert's Church.

"On the 26th of January, 1536, Jan Bockelson and Knipperdollinch meet
their fate. A high scaffolding is erected in the market-place, and
before it a lofty throne for his grace the bishop, that he may glut
his vengeance to the full. Let the rest pass in silence. The most
reliable authorities tell us that the Anabaptists remained calm and
firm to the last. 'Art thou a king?' 'Art thou a bishop?' The iron
cages still hang on the church tower at Muenste