Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family
XXXIII.
Thekla's Story.
WITTEMBERG, 1540.
The time I used to dread most of all in my life, after that greatbereavement which laid it waste, is come. I am in the monotonous levelof solitary middle age. The sunny heights of childhood, and even thejoyous breezy slopes of youth, are almost out of sight behind me; andthe snowy heights of reverend age, from which we can look over into thepromised land beyond, are almost as far before me. Other lives havegrown from the bubbling spring into the broad and placid river, whilemine is still the little narrow stream it was at first; only, creepingslow and noiseless through the flats, instead of springing gladly fromrock to rock, making music wherever it came. Yet I am content;absolutely, fully content. I am sure that my life also has been orderedby the highest wisdom and love; and that (as far as my faithless heartdoes not hinder it) God is leading me also on to the very highest andbest destiny for me.
I did not always think so. I used to fear that not only would thisbereavement throw a shadow on my earthly life, but that it would stuntand enfeeble my nature for ever; that missing all the sweet, ennoblingrelationships of married life, even throughout the ages I should be butan undeveloped, one-sided creature.
But one day I was reading in Dr. Luther's German Bible the chapter aboutthe body of Christ, the twelfth of First Corinthians, and great comfortcame into my heart through it. I saw that we are not meant to beseparate atoms, each complete in itself, but members of a body, eachonly complete through union with all the rest. And then I saw howentirely unimportant it is in what place Christ shall set me in hisbody; and how impossible it is for us to judge what he is training usfor, until the body is perfected and we see what we are to be in it.
On the Dueben Heath also, soon after, when I was walking home with Else'sGretchen, the same lesson came to me in a parable, through a clump oftrees under the shade of which we were resting. Often, from a distance,we had admired the beautiful symmetry of the group, and now, looking up,I saw how imperfect every separate tree was, all leaning in variousdirections, and all only developed on one side. If each tree had said,"I am a beech tree, and I ought to throw out branches on every side,like my brother standing alone on the heath," what would have become ofthat beautiful clump? And looking up through the green interwoven leavesto the blue sky I said,--
"Heavenly Father, thou art wise! I will doubt no more. Plant me wherethou wilt in thy garden, and let me grow as thou wilt! Thou wilt not letme fail of my highest end."
Dr. Luther also said many things which helped me from time to time, inconversation or in his sermons.
"The barley," he said, "must suffer much from man. First, it is castinto the earth that it may decay. Then, when it is grown up and ripe, itis cut and mown down. Then it is crushed and pressed, fermented andbrewed into beer.
"Just such a martyr also is the linen or flax. When it is ripe it isplucked, steeped in water, beaten, dried, hacked, spun, and woven intolinen, which again is torn and cut. Afterwards it is made into plasterfor sores, and used for binding up wounds. Then it becomes lint, is laidunder the stamping machines in the paper mill, and torn into small bits.From this they make paper for writing and printing.
"These creatures, and many others like them, which are of great use tous, must thus suffer. Thus also must good, godly Christians suffer muchfrom the ungodly and wicked. Thus, however, the barley, wine, and cornare ennobled; in man becoming flesh, and in the Christian man's fleshentering into the heavenly kingdom."
Often he speaks of the "dear, holy cross, a portion of which is given toall Christians."
"All the saints," he said once, when a little child of one of hisfriends lay ill, "must drink of the bitter cup. Could Mary even, thedear mother of our Lord, escape? All who are dear to him must suffer.Christians conquer when they suffer; only when they rebel and resist arethey defeated and lose the day."
He, indeed, knows what trial and temptation mean. Many a bitter cup hashe had to drink, he to whom the sins, and selfishness, and divisions ofChristians are personal sorrow and shame. It is therefore, no doubt,that he knows so well how to sustain and comfort. Those, he says, whoare to be the bones and sinews of the Church must expect the hardestblows.
Well I remember his saying, when, on the 8th of August, 1529, before hisgoing to Coburg, he and his wife lay sick of a fever, while he sufferedalso from sciatica, and many other ailments,--
"God has touched me sorely. I have been impatient; but God knows betterthan I whereto it serves. _Our Lord God is like a printer who sets theletters backwards, so that here we cannot read them. When we are printedoff yonder, in the life to come, we shall read all clear andstraightforward._ Meantime we must have patience."
In other ways more than I can number he and his words have helped me. Noone seems to understand as he does what the devil is and does. It is the_temptation_ in the sorrow which is the thing to be dreaded and guardedagainst. This was what I did not understand at first when Bertrand died.I thought I was rebellious, and dared not approach God till I ceased tofeel rebellious. I did not understand that the malignant one who temptedme to rebel also tempted me to think God would not forgive. I hadthought before of affliction as a kind of sanctuary where naturally Ishould feel God near. I had to learn that it is also night-time, even"the hour of darkness," in which the prince of darkness draws nearunseen. As Luther says, "The devil torments us in the place where we aremost tender and weak, as in Paradise he fell not on Adam, but on Eve."
Inexpressible was the relief to me when I learned who had beentormenting me, and turned to Him who vanquished the tempter of old tobanish him now from me. For terrible as Dr. Luther knows that fallenangel to be,--"the antithesis," as he said, "of the Ten Commandments,"who for thousands of years has been studying with an angel'sintellectual power, or how most effectually to distress and ruinman,--he always reminds us that, nevertheless, the devil is avanquished foe, that the victory has not now to be won; that, bold asthe evil one is to assail and tempt the unguarded, a word or look offaith will compel him to flee "like a beaten hound." It is this blendingof the sense of Satan's power to tempt, with the conviction of hispowerlessness to injure the believing heart, which has so oftensustained me in Dr. Luther's words.
But it is not only thus that he has helped me. He presses on us oftenthe necessity of occupation. It is better, he says, to engage in thehumblest work, than to sit still alone and encounter the temptations ofSatan. "Oft in my temptations I have need to talk even with a child, inorder to expel such thoughts as the devil possesses me with; and thisteaches me not to boast as if of myself I were able to help myself, andto subsist without the strength of Christ. I need one at times to helpme who in his whole body has not as much theology as I have in onefinger." "The human heart," he says, "is like a millstone in a mill:when you put wheat under it, it turns, and grinds, and bruises the wheatto flour; if you put no wheat it still grinds on, but then it is itselfit grinds and wears away. So the human heart, unless it be occupied withsome employment, leaves space for the devil, who wriggles himself in,and brings with him a whole host of evil thoughts, temptations,tribulations, which grind away the heart."
After hearing him say this, I tried hard to find myself some occupation.At first it seemed difficult. Else wanted little help with her children,or only occasionally. At home the cares of poverty were over, and mydear father and mother lived in comfort, without my aid. I useddiscontentedly to wish sometimes that we were poor again, as in Else'sgirlish days, that I might be needed, and really feel it of some use tospin and embroider, instead of feeling that I only worked for the sakeof not being idle, and that no one would be the better for what I did.
At other times I used to long to seclude myself from all the happy lifearound, and half to reproach Dr. Luther in my heart for causing thesuppression of the convents. In a nunnery, at least, I thought I shouldhave been something definite and recognized, instead of the negative,undeveloped creature, I felt myself to be, only distinguished
from thosearound by the absence of what made their lives real and happy.
My mother's recovery from the plague helped to cure me of that, byreminding me of the home blessings still left. I began, too, to confideonce more in God, and I was comforted by thinking of what my grandmothersaid to me one day when I was a little girl, crying hopelessly over atangled skein and sobbing, "I shall never untangle it." "Wind, dearchild, _wind on_, inch by inch, undo each knot one by one, and the skeinwill soon disentangle itself." So I resolved to wind on my little threadof life day by day, and undo one little knot after another, until now,indeed, the skein has disentangled itself.
Few women, I think, have a life more full of love and interest thanmine. I have undertaken the care of a school for little girls, amongwhom are two orphans, made fatherless by the peasants' war, who weresent to us; and this also I owe to Dr. Luther. He has nothing more atheart than the education of the young; nothing gives him more pain thanto see the covetousness which grudges funds for schools; and nothingmore joy than to see the little ones grow up in all good knowledge. Ashe wrote to the Elector John from Coburg twelve years ago:--
"The merciful God shows himself indeed gracious in making his Word sofruitful in your land. The tender little boys and maidens are so wellinstructed in the Catechism and Scriptures, that my heart melts when Isee that young boys and girls can pray, believe, and speak better of Godand Christ than all the convents and schools could in the olden time.
"Such youth in your grace's land are a fair Paradise, of which the likeis not in the world. It is as if God said, 'Courage, dear Duke John, Icommit to thee my noblest treasure, my pleasant Paradise; thou shalt befather over it. For under thy guard and rule I place it, and give theethe honour that thou shalt be my gardener and steward.' This isassuredly true. It is even as if our Lord himself were your grace'sguest and ward, since his Word and his little ones are your perpetualguests and wards."
For a little while a lady, a friend of his wife, resided in his house inorder to commence such a school at Wittemberg for young girls; and nowit has become my charge. And often Dr. Luther comes in and lays hishands on the heads of the little ones, and asks God to bless them, orlistens while they repeat the Catechism or the Holy Scriptures.
_December_ 25, 1542.
Once more the Christmas tree has been planted in our homes atWittemberg. How many such happy Christian homes there are among us! OurElse's, Justus Jonas', and his gentle, sympathizing wife, who, Dr.Luther says, "always brings comfort in her kind pleasant countenance."We all meet at Else's home on such occasions now. The voices of thechildren are better than light to the blind eyes of my father, and mymother renews her own maternal joys again in her grandchildren, withoutthe cares.
But of all these homes, none is happier or more united than Dr.Luther's. His child-like pleasure in little things makes every familyfestival in his house so joyous; and the children's plays and pleasures,as well as their little troubles, are to him a perpetual parable of theheavenly family, and of our relationship to God. There are five childrenin his family now; Hans, the first born; Magdalen, a lovely, loving girlof thirteen; Paul, Martin, and Margaretha.
How good it is for those who are bereaved and sorrowful that ourChristian festivals point forward and upward as well as backward; thatthe eternal joy to which we are drawing ever nearer is linked to theearthly joy which has passed away. Yes, the old heathen tree of life,which that young green fir from the primeval forests of our land is saidto typify, has been christened into the Christmas tree. The old tree oflife was a tree of sorrow, and had its roots in the evanescent earth,and at its base sat the mournful Destinies, ready to cut the thread ofhuman life. Nature ever renewing herself contrasted mournfully with thehuman life that blooms but once. But our tree of life is a tree of joy,and is rooted in the eternal Paradise of joy. The angels watch over it,and it recalls the birth of the Second Man--the Lord from heaven--who isnot merely "a living soul, but a life-giving spirit." In it theevanescence of Nature, immortal as she seems, is contrasted with thetrue eternal life of mortal man. In the joy of the little ones, oncemore, thank God, my whole heart seems to rejoice; for I also have myface towards the dawn, and I can hear the fountain of life bubbling upwhichever way I turn. Only, _before_ me it is best and freshest! for itis springing up to life everlasting.
_December_, 1542.
A shadow has fallen on the peaceful home of Dr. Luther: Magdalen, theunselfish, obedient, pious, loving child--the darling of her father'sheart--is dead; the first-born daughter, whose portrait, when she was ayear old, used to cheer and delight him at Coburg.
On the 5th of this last September she was taken ill, and then Lutherwrote at once to his friend Marcus Crodel to send his son John fromTorgau, where he was studying, to see his sister. He wrote,--
"Grace and peace, my Marcus Crodel. I request that you will conceal frommy John what I am writing to you. My daughter Magdalen is literallyalmost at the point of death--soon about to depart to her Father inheaven, unless it should yet seem fit to God to spare her. But sheherself so sighs to see her brother, that I am constrained to send acarriage to fetch him. They indeed loved one another greatly. May shesurvive to his coming! I do what I can, lest afterwards the sense ofhaving neglected anything should torture me. Desire him, therefore,without mentioning the cause, to return hither at once with all speed inthis carriage; hither,--where she will either sleep in the Lord or berestored. Farewell in the Lord."
Her brother came, but she was not restored.
As she lay very ill, Doctor Martin said,--
"She is very dear to me; but, gracious God, if it is thy will to takeher hence, I am content to know that she will be with thee."
And as she lay in the bed, he said to her,--
"Magdalenchen, my little daughter, thou wouldst like to stay with thyfather; and thou art content also to go to thy Father yonder."
Said she, "Yes, dearest father; as God wills."
Then said the father,--
"Thou darling child, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Then he turned away and said,--
"She is very dear to me. If the flesh is so strong, what will the spiritbe?"
And among other things he said,--
"For a thousand years God has given no bishop such great gifts as he hasgiven me; and we should rejoice in his gifts. I am angry with myselfthat I cannot rejoice in my heart over her, nor give thanks; althoughnow and then I can sing a little song to our God, and thank him a littlefor all this. But let us take courage; living or dying, we are theLord's. 'Sive vivimus, sive moremur, Domini sumus.' This is true,whether we take 'Domini' in the nominative or the genitive: we are theLord's, and in him we are lords over death and life."
Then said Master George Roerer,--
"I once heard your reverence say a thing which often comfortsme--namely, 'I have prayed our Lord God that he will give me a happydeparture when I journey hence. And he will do it; of that I feel sure.At my latter end I shall yet speak with Christ my Lord, were it for everso brief a space.' I fear sometimes," continued Master Roerer, "that Ishall depart hence suddenly, in silence, without being able to speak aword."
Then said Dr. Martin Luther,--
"Living or dying, we are the Lord's. It is equally so whether you arekilled by falling down stairs, or were sitting and writing, and suddenlyshould die. It would not injure me if I fell from a ladder and lay deadat its foot; for the devil hates us grievously, and might even bringabout such a thing as that."
When, at last, the little Magdalen lay at the point of death, her fatherfell on his knees by her bed-side, wept bitterly and prayed that Godwould receive her. Then she departed, and fell asleep in her father'sarms. Her mother was also in the room, but further off, on account ofher grief. This happened a little after nine o'clock on the Wednesdayafter the 19th Sunday after Trinity, 1542.
The doctor repeated often, as before said,--
"I would desire indeed to keep my daughter, if our Lord God would leaveher with me; for I love her very dearly. But His will be done; fornothing can be better than that for her."
Whilst she still lived, he said to her,--
"Dear daughter, thou hast also a Father in heaven: thou art going tohim."
Then said Master Philip,--
"The love of parents is an image and illustration of the love of God,engraven on the human heart. If, then, the love of God to the human raceis as great as that of parents to their children, it is indeed great andfervent."
When she was laid in the coffin, Doctor Martin said,--
"Thou darling Lenichen, how well it is with thee!"
And as he gazed on her lying there, he said,--
"Ah, thou sweet Lenichen, thou shalt rise again, and shine like a star;yes, like the sun!"
They had made the coffin too narrow and too short, and he said,--
"The bed is too small for thee! I am indeed joyful in spirit, but afterthe flesh I am very sad, this parting is so beyond measure trying.Wonderful it is that I should know she is certainly at peace, and thatall is well with her, and yet should be so sad."
And when the people who came to lay out the corpse, according to custom,spoke to the doctor, and said they were sorry for his affliction, hesaid,--
"You should rejoice. I have sent a saint to heaven; yes, a living saint!May we have such a death! Such a death I would gladly die this veryhour."
Then said one, "That is true indeed; yet every one would wish to keephis own."
Doctor Martin answered,--
"Flesh is flesh, and blood is blood. I am glad that she is yonder. Thereis no sorrow but that of the flesh."
To others who came he said,--
"Grieve not. I have sent a saint to heaven; yes, I have sent two suchthither!" alluding to his infant Elizabeth.
As they were chanting by the corpse, "Lord, remember not our formersins, which are of old," he said,--
"I say, O Lord, not our former sins only, nor only those of old, but ourpresent sins; for we are usurers, exactors, misers. Yea, the abominationof the mass is still in the world!"
When the coffin was closed, and she was buried, he said, "_There isindeed a resurrection of the body._"
And as they returned from the funeral, he said,--
"My daughter is now provided for in body and soul. We Christians havenothing to complain of; we know it must be so. We are more certain ofeternal life than of anything else; for God who has promised it to usfor his dear Son's sake, can never lie. Two saints of my flesh our LordGod has taken, but not of my blood. Flesh and blood cannot inherit thekingdom."
Among other things, he said,--
"We must take great care for our children, and especially for the poorlittle maidens; we must not leave it to others to care for them. I haveno compassion on the boys. A lad can maintain himself wherever he is, ifhe will only work; and if he will not work, he is a scoundrel. But thepoor maiden-kind must have a staff to lean on."
And again,--
"I gave this daughter very willingly to our God. After the flesh, Iwould indeed have wished to keep her longer with me; but since he hastaken her hence, I thank him."
The night before Magdalen Luther died, her mother had a dream, in whichshe saw two men clothed in fair raiment, beautiful and young, come andlead her daughter away to her bridal. When, on the next morning, PhilipMelancthon came into the cloister, and asked her how her daughter was,she told him her dream.
But he was alarmed at it, and said to others,--
"Those young men are the dear angels who will come and lead this maideninto the kingdom of heaven, to the true Bridal."
And the same day she died.
Some little time after her death, Dr. Martin Luther said,--
"If my daughter Magdalen could come to life again and bring with her tome the Turkish kingdom, I would not have it. Oh, she is well cared for;'Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur.' Who dies thus, certainly haseternal life. I would that I, and my children, and ye all could thus alldepart; for evil days are coming. There is neither help nor counsel moreon earth, I see, until the Judgment Day. I hope, if God will, it willnot be long delayed; for covetousness and usury increase."
And often at supper he repeated, "Et multipicata sunt mala in terris."
He himself made this epitaph, and had it placed on his Magdalen'stomb:--
"Dormio cum sanctis hic Magdaleni Lutheri Filia, et hoc strato tecta quiesco meo, Filia mortis eram peccati semine nata, Sanguine sed vivo, Christe, redempta tuo."[13]
[Footnote 13: A friend has translated it thus:--
I, Luther's daughter Magdalen, Here slumber with the blest; Upon this bed I lay my head, And take my quiet rest.
I was a child of death on earth, In sin my life was given; But on the tree Christ died for me, And now I live in heaven.]
In German,--
"Here sleep I, Lenichen, Dr. Luther's little daughter, Rest with all the saints in my little bed; I who was born in sins, And must forever have been lost. But now I live and all is well with me, Lord Christ, redeemed with thy blood."
Yet indeed, although he tries to cheer others, he laments long anddeeply himself, as many of his letters show.
To Jonas he wrote,--
"I think you will have heard that my dearest daughter Magdalen is born again to the eternal kingdom of Christ. But although I and my wife ought to do nothing but give thanks, rejoicing in so happy and blessed a departure, by which she has escaped the power of the flesh, the world, the Turk, and the devil; yet such is the strength of natural affection, that we cannot part with her without sobs and groans of heart. They cleave to our heart, they remain fixed in its depths--her face, her words--the looks, living and dying, of that most dutiful and obedient child; so that even the death of Christ (and what are all deaths in comparison with that?) scarcely can efface her death from our minds. Do thou, therefore, give thanks to God in our stead. Wonder at the great work of God who thus glorifies our flesh! She was, as thou knowest, gentle and sweet in disposition, and was altogether lovely. Blessed be the Lord Jesus Christ, who called and chose, and has thus magnified her! I wish for myself and all mine, that we may attain to such a death; yea, rather, to such a life, which only I ask from God, the Father of all consolation and mercy."
And again, to Jacob Probst, pastor at Bremen--
"My most dear child, Magdalen, has departed to her heavenly Father, falling asleep full of faith in Christ. An indignant horror against death softens my tears. I loved her vehemently. But in _that day_ we shall be avenged on death, and on him who is the author of death."
And to Amsdorf--
"Thanks to thee for endeavouring to console me on the death of my dearest daughter. I loved her not only for that she was my flesh, but for her most placid and gentle spirit, ever so dutiful to me. But now I rejoice that she is gone to live with her heavenly Father, and is fallen into sweetest sleep until that day. For the times are and will be worse and worse; and in my heart I pray that to thee, and to all dear to me, may be given such an hour of departure, and with such placid quiet, truly to fall asleep in the Lord. '_The just are gathered, and rest in their beds._' 'For verily the world is as a horrible Sodom.'"
And to Lauterbach--
"Thou writest well, that in this most evil age death (or more truly, sleep) is to be desired by all. And although the departure of that most dear child has, indeed, no little moved me, yet I rejoice more that she, a daughter of the kingdom, is snatched from the jaws of the devil and the world; so sweetly did she fall asleep in Christ."
So mournfully and tenderly he writes and speaks, the shadow of thatsorrow at the centre of his life overspreading the whole world withdarkness to him. Or rather, as he would say, the joy of that loving,dutiful child's presence
being withdrawn, he looks out from his cold anddarkened hearth, and sees the world as it is; the covetousness of therich; the just demands, yet insurrectionary attempts of the poor; thewar with the Turks without, the strife in the empire within; the fierceanimosities of impending religious war; the lukewarmness and divisionsamong his friends. For many years God gave that feeling heart a refugefrom all these in the bright, unbroken circle of his home. But now thenext look to him seems beyond this life; to death, which unveils thekingdom of truth and righteousness, and love, to each, one by one; orstill more, to the glorious Advent which will manifest it to all. Ofthis he delights to speak. The end of the world, he feels sure, is near;and he says all preachers should tell their people to pray for itscoming, as the beginning of the golden age. He said once--"O graciousGod, come soon again! I am waiting ever for the day--the spring morning,when day and night are equal, and the clear, bright rose of that dawnshall appear. From that glow of morning I imagine a thick, black cloudwill issue, forked with lightning, and then a crash, and heaven andearth will fall. Praise be to God, who has taught us to long and lookfor that day. In the Papacy, they sing--
'Dies irae, dies illa;'
but we look forward to it with hope; and I trust it is not far distant."
Yet he is no dreamer, listlessly clasping his hands in the night, andwatching for the dawn. He is of the day, a child of the light; andcalmly, and often cheerfully, he pursues his life of ceaseless toil forothers, considerately attending to the wants and pleasures of all, fromthe least to the greatest; affectionately desirous to part with hissilver plate, rather than not give a generous reward to a faithful oldservant, who was retiring from his service; pleading the cause of thehelpless; writing letters of consolation to the humblest who need hisaid; caring for all the churches, yet steadily disciplining his childrenwhen they need it, or ready to enter into any scheme for their pleasure.
WITTEMBERG, 1545.
It seems as if Dr. Luther were as necessary to us now as when he gavethe first impulse to better things, by affixing his theses to the doorsof Wittemberg, or when the eyes of the nation centred on him at Worms.In his quiet home he sits and holds the threads which guide so manylives, and the destinies of so many lands. He has been often ailinglately, and sometimes very seriously. The selfish luxury of the richburghers and nobles troubles him much. He almost forced his way one dayinto the Elector's cabinet, to press on him the appropriation of some ofthe confiscated church revenues to the payment of pastors andschoolmasters; and earnestly, again and again, from the pulpit, does hedenounce covetousness.
"All other vices," he says, "bring their pleasures; but the wretchedavaricious man is the slave of his goods, not their master; he enjoysneither this world nor the next. Here he has purgatory, and there hell;while faith and content bring rest to the soul here, and afterwardsbring the soul to heaven. For the avaricious lack what they have, aswell as what they have not."
Never was a heart more free from selfish interests and aims than his.His faith is always seeing the invisible God; and to him it seems themost melancholy folly, as well as sin, that people should build theirnests in this forest, on all whose trees he sees "the forester's mark ofdestruction."
The tone of his preaching has often lately been reproachful and sad.
Else's Gretchen, now a thoughtful maiden of three-and-twenty, said to methe other day,--
"Aunt Thekla, why does Dr. Luther preach some times as if his preachinghad done no good? Have not many of the evil things he attacked beenremoved? Is not the Bible in every home? Our mother says we cannot betoo thankful for living in these times, when we are taught the truthabout God, and are given a religion of trust and love, instead of one ofdistrust and dread. Why does Dr. Luther often speak as if nothing hadbeen done?"
And I could only say,--
"We see what has been done; but Dr. Luther only knows what he hoped todo. He said one day--'If I had known at first that men were so hostileto the Word of God, I should have held my peace. I imagined that theysinned merely through ignorance.'"
"I suppose, Gretchen," I said, "that he had before him the vision of thewhole of Christendom flocking to adore and serve his Lord, when once hehad shown them how good He is. _We_ see what Dr. Luther has done. _He_sees what he hoped, and contrasts it with what is left undone."